Past
Alex was back at home.
Just like he had expected, there was Christmas ham and Fruit Cake lined up in the kitchen island next to him.
Jack? "Jack?" He called out. No answer. He retraced his footsteps. He knew he wasn't supposed to be home until after Christmas. Why were there fruit cake and ham on the table? Knowing Jack, she may have pushed back the celebration for him. The calendar on the kitchen island still said December 25 though, and the sun outside was looking bright.
So he did make it back by Christmas Day. He could still go out with Tom then maybe watch a movie with Jack that night. "Alex." Alex was moving to hurry upstairs and change and maybe get a message to Tom when he heard a voice behind him. He instinctively looked back to see a petite blonde.
"Mum…" He had seen his mother before, in pictures and maybe even in a few dreams. It could have been his familial instincts that helped him recognize her, maybe it was those instincts that were responsible for that warm feeling inside him. The same warm feeling he got in rare moments when Ian wasn't so busy and they actually had a few minutes to just wind down together, the same warm feeling he got spending holidays watching movies with Jack and eating fruitcake and christmas ham when Ian was away. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas huh?" The blonde raised her eyebrows. "I expected more from you. Ian didn't raise you to be this inarticulate."
Alex's body could have been moving on its own at that moment. He rushed to touch the woman in front of him, only to see that he felt nothing, as if he had just gone through her. "Generally the dead aren't supposed to be interacting to the living. We were worried about you."
"We? Worried?" It was Christmas. He was spending it with Jack and Tom. What was there to be worried about? At the back of his mind, he knew it was unrealistic to even see his mother in front of him, doing more than what was expected of a hallucination. Like in all dreams though, the brain always works overtime to rationalize apparitions in dreams and at that moment, more than anything, he felt at home seeing his mother. I'm here because you're on the verge of crossing the line. I want to make sure you don't."
"What do you mean make sure I don't? I'm right here."
"You're not here. You're back in Cairo."
Alex looked around him and the hallucinations were starting to clear. He recalled the hostage rescue, he remembered leaning on the wall and slumping down on the ground for a quick rest.
And then the blood.
The blood.
Alex looked at his hands as he recalled the last few seconds he remembered. The blood that stuck to his hands after he quickly ran them through his chest. "What day is it today?" He looked to the calendar on the island. "December 25. It was December 24 last night." He assured himself as he recalled the events of yesterday night in Cairo.
"Jack changed that date last night at 12am. It was her Christmas vigil as she waited for you to come home. During that same time, somewhere in East Africa, they were rushing you out of the field. You sustained multiple bullet wounds. Only emergency procedures could be done in the area. They had to rush you to a hospital in Cairo by plane." His mother explained.
"But I'm home." He said. He almost considered rushing upstairs to his room to confirm whether it was really his home or a look alike house. The TV was the same one. The sofa was the same one Ian had bought on a trip from Italy. The coffee and tea were in the same matching jars Jack had bought on a trip to Harrod's in Knightsbridge.
Helen shook her head. "Your body is in Cairo."
"And Jack?"
"On a flight to Cairo." Within seconds, Alex put two and two together and he didn't need to ask any more questions.
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