NOTE: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS, WHICH RIGHTFULLY BELONG TO ANTHONY HOROWITZ. I ONLY OWN THE PLOT.
Sometimes revelations come in the morning, when the sun rises, and the dew glitters, and everything's new.
Sometimes revelations come in the middle of the night, when the moon's glowing, and the world's asleep and all's right with the world.
Sometimes revelations come in the form of love, joy, childbirth, adventure, heartbreak.
But they also come during life-threatening situations. Like, for example, when there's bullets flying around you, or a when psychopath terrorist is about to blow your brains out.
For Alex, this particular time was lingering more on the terror of claustrophobia. Who knew Eagle got attached so easily?
Alex took a deep breath, trying to get oxygen into his lungs (a losing battle really), but it was rather difficult with a heavy SAS soldier cutting off his airways.
"Oh my GOSH, Alex don't ever do anything like that again!" Eagle gushed, while a laughing Falcon attempted to pull him off of Alex.
"I didn't do anything." Alex protested, placing a hand on his chest in a weak attempt to stop it from aching. His head was spinning; he definitely still had the drugs in his system.
"Yes, you did. It's time you owned up to your mistakes, Alex." Eagle said sternly.
Falcon stood there, one arm flung across Eagle, the other clutching his stomach, his hilarious laughter echoing off the white-washed walls. He was crying, Alex realized, when the brown-haired Irishman wiped his eyes.
"Seriously. I didn't do anything." Alex continued, confused and a little wary by the fact that two very grown men were acting very ridiculous right in front of him.
"Your heart stopped, Alex. That's what he's referring too." Falcon replied, his face sobering up, his tears mopped by an old blue sweatshirt that must have belonged to someone else at some point, because there is no way it's his size. For one, it's way too small. The ends of the sleeves barely reach his wrists, and the sleeves hug his muscular arms. But, if he is wearing something that's not his, it must be for a sentimental reason, thus meaning he's upset about something. Was it his fault? Was Alex the reason he was upset?
If Alex had protested Ian's leaving for Cornwall, if he'd thrown a fit and made Ian stay, his uncle wouldn't have died. A small part of his brain reminded him that hundreds of school children, probably him included, would have died if Ian, and subsequently him, wouldn't have gone on that mission.
If Alex hadn't let Jack go with him on his mission, if he hadn't let her try to escape (because he knew it was pointless but there was no other way) then she wouldn't be dead.
If Alex hadn't flirted with Sabina, and agreed to go on vacation with her than Scorpia never would have targeted her family, and her dad never would have been crippled and they never would have moved to America.
Alex was always the reason people's lives were ruined.
"Hey. Focus buddy. I'm right here."
Alex blinked, and suddenly he was alone with Falcon. Eagle was long gone. The Irishman was holding his hand, running his fingers over Alex's knuckles. Alex's chest felt tight.
"Hey." Falcon smiled. "You blanked out for a moment."
"Is it my fault?" Alex whispered.
"What?" Falcon moved closer, trying to hear Alex's soft voice.
He tried again, the guilt rising up and threatening to consume him. "Is it my fault? You're upset about something, because you're wearing clothing that's not yours but it's not a female's either, so it's got to be a friend, and I'm guessing they died and it's probably my fault and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He broke off into tears, a feeling of worthlessness threatening to crush him. He knew he was being irrational, but his walls were down, the drugs still spinning through his system. His feelings were raw and unchecked, all the pain and guilt of the last year rushing over in a tidal wave.
"Oh Alex." Falcon slipped into bed next to him, pulling Alex into his lap, much like the first night, one hand carding through Alex's curls, the other rubbing his back soothingly. "Alex. No. No, it's not your fault. It could never be your fault." He kissed the top of Alex's head, and the teen sobbed, the physical touch more than he could handle. When was the last time someone besides Jack had held him like this, comforted him, hugged him?
He couldn't remember. Ian had always loved him. Of that, Alex could be sure. But he had never been one for physical affection, and that hurt Alex, who loved through how much physical attention he gave someone.
"What happened was long ago, probably before you were born. And no, they're not dead." He chuckled, the deep sound of it strange among Alex's shuddering sobs. "We... we just haven't seen each other in a while. I didn't even realize I was wearing something of theirs. I've had it for years and years. But you're right, it's not a female's. It's from a friend. There was a time, when we were much younger, about your age actually, when we lived together, traveling the world and all our clothes just sort of got dumped in suitcases, mixed up with everyone else's. I haven't seen them since that last trip three years ago. There didn't seem any point in returning their clothing, since they still had mine. And... I suppose I couldn't. It meant a lot to me those years we were together. I couldn't let it go for the longest time. I guess I sort of... joined the military... to... put it behind me. The others didn't have a problem, but I- I've never been one for letting go." Falcon sucked in a shuddering breath. Alex clutched the man's sweater, its soft fabric distracting.
He waited, listening to this strange confession.
"You remind me a lot of them sometimes. We all had our fair share of panic attacks growing up." Falcon finally said. He suddenly shifted, turning Alex around so he could look the soldier in the eyes. They were a startling pale blue, serious, dangerous, but beautiful.
"Alex. I promise to always be here for you, while you're here with us. I won't let you down. I won't tell our unit anything you don't want them to know, understand?"
Alex nodded, his vision blurring, tears falling down his cheeks.
Our unit.
"Do you know what a unit means, Alex?" Fox looked away from the road for a split second to flash Alex a look, probably trying to read his emotions. Alex hoped his deadpan expression worked in dissuading the man.
It didn't.
"It means that we're family. We tell each other things. Things that we struggle with. Like if you, hypothetically, had PTSD, you'd tell us what triggers you so that we can be here for you and help you through the healing process. You're not alone in this, Alex. Not anymore. We're here for you."
The unspoken words hung in the silence between them. 'You can trust us.'
"Alex."
Alex blinked, the memory vanishing, Falcon's worried face appearing directly in front of his.
"Where were you?"
Alex opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he explain that trust for someone other than himself was something he'd never have again?
"Thank you, Falcon. I'll keep it in mind." Alex wiped the tears from his face, a headache slowly forming.
Falcon nodded, clearly understanding what Alex was actually saying.
He would tell Falcon nothing.
"I'll let you sleep now." Falcon stood up, and Alex avoided his gaze, feeling guilty for sending away the only person he knew wouldn't leave him without permission.
"Don't push me away Alex. Please. I'm only trying to help." Falcon's hand rested heavy on Alex's shoulder.
Alex turned away, new tears coming unbidden. He didn't deserve this.
Why didn't they see it? Why didn't they see that he couldn't accept their help, because there was nothing left to save?
******************************
Falcon softly closed the door to Alex's room behind him. His hand shook on the handle and he breathed deeply, clenching his fists and shaking them out. That conversation had taken more out of him than he thought.
Why had he told Alex about..? His friends from another life? There really was no other name for them.
They had taken. So. Much.
And left him with nothing.
But he still loved them.
Loved them like brothers.
Falcon laughed out loud at the insanity of it all, startling a passing patient. He quickly apologized, heading to the nearest elevator, away from all the strange looks.
Maybe he should find a therapist, talk about it, flush it all out of his system.
They used to joke about getting therapists, him and his... what? Brothers? Friends? He wasn't sure what they should be called now. Everything in his head was a mess and he really needed to sort it all out. Before someone got hurt.
On the other hand, he'd done just fine all this time.
He could hold it all together for a few more years, right?
That's all it would take if what Eagle said about Afghanistan was true.
"The minute you step off the 'copter it's like hell on earth. There's bullets flying everywhere. Before you can even blink the man in front of you is down, his blood splattered on your face and fatigues. No matter how much you'll scrub at it, it'll never come out."
The soldier takes a long swig of his beer, his eyes bitter and haunted.
"The smell, it hits you like a brick wall. I've been here for seven months for recuperation and eval; I can still smell it." He closes his eyes, tipping his drink back, and Falcon watches, maybe just a little concerned at the amount of alcohol this man is consuming within the space of two hours. "Now, the screams, they're something else entirely. They never ever leave you. Wolf says that the smell goes away after a while but the screams- they don't."
Eagle gives Falcon a long look.
"Take my advice. Do something wrong and get kicked out of training. Because you won't last a minute out there. They'll kill you before you even remember that there's a gun in your hand and it's loaded. Before you can even aim, they'll have a bullet in your chest and you're going down. You'd better hope it's while you're within the compound, because if it's outside it, there's a good chance Headquarters won't be able to send a body bag home to your family. If the Taliban doesn't get to your body first, the mosquitoes will."
Falcon swirls his glass, before swallowing the alcohol down in one gulp, the familiar burn relaxing. "Guess it's a good thing nobody's waiting for me back home, then, isn't it?"
The other soldier stares back at him, something unreadable in his brown eyes. Concern? Confusion? Curiosity?
Falcon's heart begins to pound in his chest. 'What will Eagle say? Will he tell the others? Will he pity me? I don't need his pity.'
Eagle opens his mouth and the blood rushes in Falcon's head but in the end all Eagle says is, "Let me buy you another drink. You'll need it."
That was three months ago; they still hadn't been shipped out.
That was three months ago; they had Alex now and Fox was back.
That was three months ago; the others still didn't know about his past.
That was three months ago; not much had changed.
Falcon prayed it would stay that way. He wasn't sure he could keep up the fragile walls around his past if the others started poking and prodding.
Tears stung in his eyes as memories flooded back. The soldier angrily wiped them away, ducking into a nearby supply closet. It was old and clearly unused.
He was alone.
Anger welled up in his chest, and he kicked the wall. Why did everything always have to change?
Why did they have to leave? The room blurred and swam around him as the tears increased, blocking his vision. He had relied on them so much. He'd needed them. And as much as he liked to pretend that this new unit was enough, it wasn't. No-one would ever be able to replace his family.
Sinking to the floor, he fisted his hands in his hair, trying to block out the faces, the laughter, all those haunting voices.
"Why won't you let me go?" He whispered into the silence.
And that's another one folks! Hope you enjoyed!
Please feel free to leave comments, votes, and questions!
Over and out,
AgentAlexxRider101
P.S. If you think you know where I'm headed with Falcon's character and who he really is, please PM me and tell me your thoughts. I'm still unsure about this, but if you think I should carry one with it, please let me know. Thanks so much for reading!
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." - Hebrews 12:1-2