Forget Them Not IX
Summary: Alex does and doesn't remember. Something happened, something that left him without any memories. Was it a mission that left him like this? Or was it something else? Alex remembers. A collection of connected oneshots.
There were memories here, Alex thought. Memories of a lifetime.
On his walls were pictures of him and Ian and Jack. He knew that there was a picture of his parents in his drawer, carefully hidden away from plain sight. He didn't know when it was taken; Ian hadn't said. A year or two before he was born, Alex guessed from a sign in the background of the city picture. He rarely looked at it.
On the floor was a small ball bought in Spain. He'd gotten it on a return trip after Ian and his first stay there. Ian would throw it to him when he was bored at the airport or train station. It was a fond memory. There were other souvenirs placed around the room from other places that Ian used to bring back with him. Tucked away in his cupboard was a small American flag once given to him by Jack.
On his desk; a small travel card from Sabina and a picture of Tom covered in cake batter, a failed experiment. Residing with those keepsakes were mountains of homework that would soon be impossible to avoid or ignore. It was certainly a Herculean task.
Alex didn't feel quite up to it yet.
On his night table, in a big pile, were get-well cards. A joking one from Jack. Formal ones from Mrs. Jones, MI6 and the Prime Minister, who for some reason unknown to him had felt the need to congratulate him. Friendly ones from Tom, Sabina and James Sprintz. A confusing one from a man named Connor, stating simply: 'Forget them not'. A hasty one from Ms. Bedfordshire. Unexpected ones from Wolf, Ben and Tamara Knight.
They remembered him.
He remembered them.
He thought he must have most of his memories back by now. At the very least most of them.
He could remember everything he did with Ian, with Jack and his friends. He could remember what happened after his uncle's death and what he went through because of the so-called missions MI6 sent him on.
He could remember seeing people die, nearly dying several times himself, the relief of knowing that everything was going to be okay after all and even seeing the earth from space(he had wondered about that for a moment before it all fell into place).
He remembered his life.
Not all of the memories were good ones. Not all of the good ones were as good as they should have been with the memory of what had come after that. Some of them would have been better left forgotten. But they were his and they were there to stay.
He remembered.
Alex tried to calm his thudding heart as he crouched behind the crate. Any sound made would be one sound too much. He did his best to ignore his twisted ankle that was throbbing painfully along with with his heartbeat. He didn't have the time to care. Not in this situation. Not when a hurt ankle was nothing compared to imminent death.
MI6 had either dreadfully underestimated the League or dreadfully overestimated him. He wasn't quite sure which yet. Alex couldn't see a way of getting out of the harbour safely from where he was. He had set off the panic alarm, well-hidden in his shoe, but he doubted that he would get back-up quickly enough. He never seemed to so it was better to disregard the notion of actually being rescued.
Miracles were for idiots. Alex would rather do his best to get out of there on his own instead of just sitting to wait. Waiting never helped anyone.
The largest problem he could see were the guards, each armed with a gun. He couldn't make out what kind they were in the dark, but he was certain that the guns in the guards' hands could fire quickly enough to kill him should he try anything.
Alex fingered the computer chip in his pocket and considered his chances.
The loss of the computer chip had already been discovered, he knew that, and the guard had been tripled. No one was to make it out of here alive. They probably wouldn't even care if he died. Not even if it meant that the chip was endangered.
The League dealt with many things, the dangerous data chips containing deadly information on highly illegal and classified weapons for one, and they took revenge very seriously. He knew that. He'd seen it happen to a woman already. He didn't like thinking of her floating, dead form in the water. It didn't help his situation. He couldn't think of what might happen to him should he be caught.
It started raining. Heavily.
The veil of rain suddenly hid him from view and muffled the small sounds he would inevitably make while escaping. It was his one and only hope.
Alex started creeping around the crate and as soon as possible started jogging towards the only possible exit to the north. If he could get a drop on the guards he could make it. He had to.
He fingered the vial of toxin in his pocket as he met the first guard on his way to the gate. He pulled it out and managed to open it and make the guard inhale it before pulling away. He watched dispassionately as the guard bent over and clawed at his throat. Alex felt a bit guilty but quickly pushed it away. He didn't have time for compassion. Later maybe but not now.
He would just have to hope that the sound of coughing could be excused in the damp weather. It was certainly loud enough to attract attention.
Alex ignored it and quickly went past the guard and down the next corridor created by the crates.
Alex could see a gate as he peered around the corner at the end of the corridor. Unfortunately for him the man in front of it had a gun pointed in his direction. It didn't seem promising. But there had to be a way out of here. Some way for him to escape safely.
The sound of footsteps behind him made Alex tense up and start to turn around. He never made it. Something or someone slammed his head into the wall beside him and everything started to go out of focus.
There was something he was supposed to protect, something he had to do, but Alex couldn't quite remember what. He tried to get up but his body wouldn't cooperate. He tried to grab the legs of his attacker; there was nothing within reach.
Alex didn't know what to do. His eyesight was blurring and his body was useless. His ankle was throbbing painfully and everything was getting cold and wet. Suddenly a lot of sound started up around him. There was yelling and running and he thought he could hear gunfire in the distance. Something was happening, but Alex didn't know what.
He never saw the knife coming.
Fin.