#Jim valenti is the only bitch I trust

[antoine-triplett]

The number of grown ass men sniffing around these high school girls is kind of not okay though like I know Katherine Heigl looks like she’s 25 but Isabel is supposed to be 16 or 17 please stop and that UFO dude hitting on Maria is definitely like 30 😬😬😬😬

[lambourngb]

"Explain the tearaway pants again?"

“you can stay afraid ( or slit the throat of fear and be brave)” - title from Gang of Youths, and that’s all @haloud ‘s fault.

“Explain the tearaway pants again?” Alex asked, picking up the soft, shiny fabric from the box with an incredulous look to Kyle. Of all things he would have predicted as a birthday gift from Kyle, tearaway stripper pants was on the last page of the book, right before a father-son vacation voucher. 

Which he had also received, as a birthday gift from Eric, his latest and most recent now ex-boyfriend. His heart was in the right place, since Alex did say he was estranged from his dad, and well-meaning but ignorant Eric, who called his parents daily, thought a trip to baseball parks would help.

It was hard to explain to anyone he dated that when he said he wasn’t close with Jesse Manes, that it wasn’t just parental tension over his sexuality that could be eased with more talking. How do you say to someone that your dad didn’t just hate his sexuality but had attacked and maimed a teenager over it. That even drugged up with Alex waving a white flag of surrender, even faked as it was, his father had shut down any mention or acknowledgment of who Alex was. 

It was just easier to say that he and his dad did not see eye-to-eye and that it was unlikely to change. Alex had that weird thought that people, even alien shaped people, should be treated with dignity and not eradicated from the earth. There was no common ground to be found over genocide.

“I thought on the weekends, when you were wearing the prosthesis, you might find some use in easy to remove pants if you had your boyfriend over.” Kyle smiled, and moved to show him the tearaway seams that were cleverly hidden. “You told me that sometimes the mood fizzled because of getting undressed-”

“Ah,” Alex acknowledged, looking down at the box again. Another small white lie was coming back to bite him. It was true, getting undressed with someone new, was an ordeal. Forrest had handled it the best, outside of Michael, knowing just when to offer help and just when to back the hell off, but ultimately the secrets and running off because of a text about alien nonsense wore thin with him. After Forrest, he gave up on trying for a deeper relationship considering the number of secrets he guarded and went back to using a dating app which resulted in a few less-than-desirable responses to his leg.

Blaming the fizzle, on his awkward way of undressing, to Kyle was easier than mentioning that some guys lost their interest when the theoretical knowledge of his amputation became factual.

“You hate them.” Kyle reached for the box, which Alex tightened his grip on stubbornly.

“No, these are great and thoughtful, thank you. I was just thinking about the fact, I ah, Eric and I broke up today.”

“What?! Seriously?” Kyle glanced around Alex’s house with a clenched fist, as if he was waiting to see Eric appear, so he could fight him. “That dick broke up with you on your birthday? I never liked that douche.”

Alex smiled weakly, “You thought Eric was great, don’t lie.”

“I thought he was great because he didn’t act weird about your friendship with Guerin, and he’s one of the best scrub nurses in the OR but if he broke up with you on your birthday-”

“Okay well no need for workplace awkwardness, I broke up with him. In fact, you should probably take his side.” Alex gathered the wrapping paper to ball it up, and stood up to head into his kitchen, with Kyle following on his heels. He lifted the trash can lid, picking up the trip voucher on top to hand over to Kyle before disposing of the colored paper. “It’s not his fault, he is just probably too idealistic about the world for my taste.”

“Jesus, a father-son bonding trip? Yeah, no.” Kyle shook his head, before leaning against the countertop and studying Alex intently. “I don’t blame you for dumping him, I mean, you told him about how your dad treated you right?”

Once upon a time, to keep Kyle from demonizing Jim Valenti, the only man who was ever kind to Alex, he had revealed the extent of the abuse he suffered growing up. He never imagined that Kyle would end up being a part of his daily orbit, so it was at the time, a safe admission. The only reason he had any sort of comfort around Kyle now was he knew that Kyle had his own reasons for hating Jesse Manes. The support he received wasn’t pity, it was shared pain. Kyle understood, and of course Michael understood, but the rest of the world? He couldn’t trust it.

There were days when he wished he had been able to conceal the truth from Maria as a kid.

“My dad is a level of evil that approaches comic-book villain. It’s hard to come up with the vocabulary to explain it. It’s definitely not first date ground to cover.” 

“You could just say what you said to me, that he was an abusive, homophobic dick.”

“I tried that actually, with Matt, but his dad is Army, so he thought I was just talking about typical macho man bullshit. His dad called him a fairy and won’t pick up the phone when he called his mom, but he’d never tried to kill him for being gay.” Alex rubbed at his forehead, and shrugged dismissively, “even if I could explain it, there’s still alien bullshit to worry about. Forrest couldn’t deal with my secrets, so…”

“Now that, my friend, we can commiserate over. Even if Stef understood my friendship with Liz, she was less supportive of running out on her to answer Isobel Evans' every little call. As Rosa calls it, those bitch ass aliens, strike again.” Kyle picked up his half-empty beer from the counter to clink against Alex’s in solidarity.

Later, after Kyle was gone, Alex wandered out to his patio to light a fire. Despite the voucher from the now ex Eric and the funny gift from Kyle, his birthday had gone well. Maria had treated him to an amp for his sound setup, an expensive gift had it been new, but this one was reconditioned by Guerin. Liz and Max had treated him to lunch at the Crashdown with a four show pass at the local concert hall. Rosa had baked a gourmet cake, and even Isobel had dropped off a bottle of expensive scotch. 

Though it hadn’t worked out, Forrest had texted a nice birthday message along with an invitation to join a group of his friends for an antique market trip to Santa Fe. 

Alex tipped his head back in his chair, listening to the crackle of the firewood settling in the pit and finally allowed himself to think about Michael, or more specifically the absence of Michael today. It was pressing on a bruise, to consider the gift from Maria might actually have been a joint gift. He didn’t think they had gotten back together again, but he wasn’t sure.

The gap in knowledge about Maria warred with the feeling that maybe Michael had forgotten, and it ached. He wasn’t sure which hurt more. 

His phone vibrated against his leg. Alex placed his beer on the ground next to his chair and opened the notification. It was his security system letting him know that someone had pulled up to the front of the house. His heart thumped painfully but hopefully as he recognized Michael’s truck.

Sitting with his back to the gate made him itch in anticipation but not fear as he heard the crunch of Michael’s boots against the gravel. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Um, happy birthday” Michael replied as he closed the distance in the dark to Alex’s chair. He threw himself into the chair gracelessly, before picking up his phone to check the time, “I’m not too late am I? This says it’s after midnight.”

Shivering a little, even though it was warm, Alex took a sip of his beer. “You’re never too late, Michael.”

The words settled between them, weighty and revealing. Alex immediately wanted to take them back. That was too truthful. Perhaps he was getting maudlin because of his birthday, but having Michael, someone who knew him inside and out, after a day of feeling just out of step with everyone else, was a balm on his heart.

Michael placed his hat next to them on the patio, glancing back toward the house with a sympathetic glance. “I figured. And um, I heard from Valenti about Eric, so, I thought you might not turn me away if I showed up.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Alex took another long swallow, staring into the flames, as the previous comfort of Michael’s presence faded. Not a pity visit. He couldn’t take that. Not daring to look at Michael because seeing his profile lit up by the firelight always did things to Alex’s heart, he finished his beer. Things he was still working on letting go of for his own good. “I’m fine, it wasn’t serious with Eric.”

“I’m glad you’re fine, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

There was a rustle of paper that caught Alex’s attention, and as he finally turned to face Michael, he froze. There was a folder in Michael’s hand. He couldn’t help but remember the recent past, where the cover of a folder barely covered the horrors of within. It was always gruesome intake forms or grisly after action reports that gleefully detailed the murder of civilians and the incarceration of aliens.

Michael shook the folder gently, “go on, it’s not gonna bite.”

Pressing his lips together in resignation, Alex reached for the folder. As rocky as things had been in the past, he was certain Michael wouldn’t try to hurt him on his birthday. It wasn’t his fault that Alex was a pessimist. Flipping open the manila cover, he paused again. His eyes roved down a list of names and numbers, along with a familiar family name.

“That’s my grandmother’s name,” Alex furrowed his brow in confusion looking over to Michael, as he leaned forward in happy anticipation.

“So last year, remember how I went to Texas with Max,” Michael began, and paused at the pained expression on Alex’s face. Right, it was unlikely that the beginning of Maria’s feelings had been forgotten. “Dumb question, okay well, we met an old woman from the Mescalero Res and her granddaughter. They were practicing some fake faith healing con game, which kinda pissed me off, until I realized the props they used were drawn from a visitor they had.”

“A visitor?”

“Yeah, they used lights to make their hand glow when they healed. She described a woman who lived there, and never spoke but had that ability. I drove there last month to ask her more about it. It turns out this woman was introduced to the tribe by your grandmother.” Michael smiled broadly, his fingers tapping with impatient energy. “So I went to the Diné people to ask about her. I know she’s passed on, but she left stories. An oral history. Err, they didn’t want to talk to me, being a white guy, but after I fixed just about every car on the Res-”

“That’s where you’ve been every weekend?”

Michael looked pleased, “You noticed?”

Caught out by just how aware he was of Michael’s movements, Alex gestured, “That’s not important, um keep going with your story.”

Still looking pleased, Michael picked up his tale, “So after I fixed every piece of shit car, every finicky generator, and promised that I would only repeat this to another member of the People, they told me what happened. Your grandmother and great-grandmother ran a sort of underground network for women in trouble. One night, in 1947, a group of ...visitors found her and her mom on the side of the road. They were waiting for supplies, from a sympathetic doctor.”

“Wait,” Alex stuttered, looking down at the list of names and numbers. “Are you saying-”

“They saved ten crash survivors that night, and scattered them to other tribes for safety.” Michael reached over to tap the paper, “I have no idea where they went, that’s still a secret to me, but… some of my people lived, free. Because of your family.”

Overwhelmed, Alex squeezed his eyes shut tightly. It was no use, he could feel the tears spilling out rebelliously down his cheeks, as he sucked in an unsteady breath. The weight of his name, of the evil done by his father, was still there, but now there was a counter-balance. Harshly Alex gasped for another breath, shuddering as a sob broke through his control.

“Sweetheart, oh god, I didn’t mean to make you cry-” Michael murmured, distraught as he shifted closer, placing a tentative hand on Alex’s shoulder. The simple touch unleashed what shaky hold on control Alex had, as he collapsed into Michael’s arms. Without hesitation, Michael pulled Alex into his embrace, letting him shake in the safe confines of his strength.

The poison that Alex had felt, writhing under his skin, from as long as he could remember was slowly being lanced and drained. It didn’t matter that Michael had never blamed Alex for his family, no words could touch that reservoir of toxin inside him that marked him a Manes Man. Only actions could. 

On the day celebrating his birth, Alex could finally feel peace regarding the blood in his veins.

“I’m sorry, I should have let you know I was looking into your family after Arizona’s grandmother mentioned it. I was going to, if my campaign of fixin’ shit didn’t work, ‘cause you’re a member, they would have talked to you, I just wanted to give you some good info. But if I crossed the line, I’m sorry-”

Alex silenced Michael’s apologies with his lips.

His action halted Michael for a moment, before he groaned against Alex’s lips and deepened the kiss hungrily. His hands came up to cup Alex’s skull gently even as he increased his efforts of climbing into Alex’s skin through the sheer connection of the kiss. Long moments passed as Alex bit gently before diving into the silky heat of Michael’s mouth.

The need for oxygen won at last over his other instincts and reluctantly Alex broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against Michael’s as they traded deep breaths in the silence. Closing his eyes, Alex spoke quietly, “If *I* crossed a line just then-”

“You didn’t, as long as you’re not sorry.”

Looking up at Michael’s dark, still slightly stunned eyes, Alex smiled weakly, “I’m not, but I admit, I didn’t see this happening. With you. I thought you didn’t want to go down this road again.”

Michael reached up, combing his fingers through Alex’s soft, growing dark locks gently. “I don’t want to go down the *same* road, but I was hopin’ we might find a different path. And full disclosure, we’re kinda ahead of my plans. I didn’t think you were gonna dump Eric today-”

Huffing a soft laugh, Alex replied wryly, “I wasn’t planning on it, but he thought my dad and I could patch things up by going to Wrigley Field together. He bought me a Field of Dreams-themed trip for me and dear old dad.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Michael blinked a few times, clearly running the words through his mind for meaning. “For one thing, you don’t even like baseball, and for another, your dad is a homophobic murdering psychopath.”

Alex burst out laughing at the offense in Michael’s voice. Pieces slotted into place, knowing that Michael understood not just on a theoretical level, but a deeply personal level just how fucked that suggestion was about Jesse. “God, you’re right, I hate baseball.”

He captured Michael’s hand, still stroking through his hair, and pressed a soft kiss on his rough calloused palm. Hands that had spent weeks working tirelessly for free just to get Alex some answers and peace about where he came from and who he was. A fresh burn of tears threatened as he thought about the effort Michael had expended.

“More tears?” Michael remarked softly, feeling the wet brush of Alex’s eyelashes against his hand. 

“Happy tears.” Alex straightened and got to his feet, holding onto Michael’s hand. He cast a considering eye on the fire, deciding it had burned down low enough to install the fire pit cover. Rubbing his thumb against the silky seam of his pants, he tugged Michael toward the house, “So Kyle got me these pants for my birthday, and they were the second best present I had today.” His smile turned wicked as he led the way toward the bedroom with confidence, “I would really like to show you how they work, if you’re interested...”

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (For You) Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Come Back (I still need you)

In this chapter: In the past, Michael and Alex, scarred both physically and mentally, part ways. In the present day, Kyle Vale's trustworthiness is called into question. Some new information about Michael comes to light, once again shaking up Alex' theories. Meanwhile, time is running out on solving this murder. 

A/n: As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

Last week's chapter title hasn't been guessed yet! I have to admit, it might be because it's a niche song? I have no idea about it's popularity, the only reason I know it is because we sing it in my Rock Choir. So it's still open, be my guest and keep guessing!

Can anyone guess this week's?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

February, 1925

Alex stood at the regional airport, the most basic of his belongings in a duffel at his feet, looking miserably at the small plane that would fly him to Albuquerque, where another plane would take him across the country.

Today was the start of basic training, and Alex was absolutely miserable.

He hadn’t even said goodbye to Michael.

Since the…incident, they’d barely seen each other. Alex’s father had put him on house arrest and Michael had been in hospital for a while. When he came back to school – the only place they could still safely see each other – his hand was in a thick bandage and he told Alex in clipped tones that it would probably never heal properly. Alex had barely been able to look at him and also noticed that Michael was avoiding him.

Alex never blamed Michael for that. No, that was Jesse Manes’ fault.

Jesse Manes, the man who called himself his father, who threatened Michael’s life. After Michael had left that night, Jesse Manes had sat Alex down and instead of beating him, had done something far worse.

“If you value that boy’s life at all, you will do as I say from here on out. The army is recruiting a new wave of soldiers. You turn 17 soon. You’ll start your training in February.” Alex had tried to protest, but Jesse Manes went on, “You will go into the army, Alex. They will beat this disgusting perversity of yours out of you. If you don’t go, or if you have the nerve to desert, a very nasty accident might happen to rash, hot-headed Michael Guerin.”

Alex’s heart still ran cold at the memory, and he shut his eyes against the pain. He knew he had no choice, knew his father had finally found the one thing that would keep Alex in line. Threatening Michael was so much more effective than the threat of personal physical harm.

So Alex was here, five feet away from his father at all times, watching as Master Sergeant Jesse Manes conversed with the officer that was going to take him away from his home, his life, his Michael.

And Michael would never know why. Alex could still see the hurt and anger in Michael’s eyes when Alex told him he was leaving the next day. He hadn’t been able to tell Michael why, and it had sparked a fight between them unlike any Alex had ever had. Michael had stormed off, and Alex had left.

Maybe it was better like this, Alex tried to convince himself. Michael would be better off hating him. It would hurt less.

“Alex!” Master Sergeant Manes called authoritatively, and like an obedient dog, Alex came. “This is private Jackson. He’ll escort you to basic training.” Alex nodded to the young man, who seemed fairly nervous in the presence of the Master Sergeant. “Now,” Manes continued, “I expect you to uphold the valour and honour this society has begun to expect from the Manes family. Your brothers are war heroes. Try to live up to them. Then maybe, finally, I can be proud of you.”

Alex hated the way his heart jumped, hated that after all this time, making his father proud still held appeal. Alex hated everything about the man. But he was still his father. “I’ll try,” Alex said shortly. He took up his duffel and nodded to his father. “Bye, dad.”

His father gave no reply but watched Alex board the plane and the plane start to take off. “You did well,” Master Sergeant Manes said coldly. From behind a crate, Michael Guerin appeared, watching the plane take off with red-rimmed eyes. He didn’t comment, so the Master Sergeant continued. “This is what’s best for him, Michael. You pushing him away only made it easier for him to go after his destiny. It was the smart decision.”

Michael snorted, flexing his healed, but permanently disfigured fingers in anger. “It wasn’t my decision. You said you’d do to Alex what you did to me. I couldn’t let that happen. At least now he’s safely away from you.” Michael spat on the floor in front of Jesse Manes’ feet and turned on his heel, leaving the man behind.

On the plane, Alex was oblivious to this exchange. He and Jackson were laughing together, bonding over their mutual dislike of the Master Sergeant. “Hey, did you see the news?” Private Jackson held up the newspaper, and Alex took it. The paper was a local Roswell paper, the headline was in aggressive bold letters, shouting: Sheriff Jim Valenti found dead at Santa Fe, New Mexico home. Police suspect suicide.

“Jesus,” Alex murmured, scanning the rest of the article. Apparently, the unsolved case of Rosa Ortecho had always haunted him, even after moving to another town and trying to start over. The pressure and the guilt seemed to have finally gotten the better of him.

Rosa Ortecho’s murderer was still wreaking havoc, even five years after the murder.

Jim Valenti (41) leaves behind a wife, who will take over his position as sheriff in the interim, and their fifteen-year-old son, Kyle. The family was not available for comment.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

“Son of a bitch,” Alex cursed, taking off towards the corridor, barely avoiding a full-on collision with a wide-eyed Max Evans as he made his way quickly towards the voice of miss Otto. Kyle Vale – no, Valenti, son of disgraced Sheriff Valenti, who killed himself because he couldn’t solve Rosa Ortecho’s case – was standing over her, inspecting the wound and looking up startled at Alex’s less than subtle entry. “You!” Alex said, his heart beating fast. “You’re Kyle Valenti, aren’t you? You’ve been lying about your identity all this time, haven’t you?”

Kyle’s eyes widened almost comically, basically giving himself away before he could ever defend himself. “Alex, you don’t understand…”

“No, I think I understand perfectly,” Alex said, controlling his voice with difficulty. “Your father was on Rosa Ortecho’s case. He couldn’t solve it and killed himself over it. This was cold-blooded revenge.”

Several gasps sounded behind him. Alex turned and realised he hadn’t exactly been quiet. Every passenger was standing at the door, staring at the two men staring each other down, with miss Beth sitting in between them, looking shocked. Not very professional, Alex. “Kyle Valenti?” he heard someone whisper incredulously.

“Alex, I didn’t – ” But Kyle could only bluster, his face red, as good as a confession.

“You knew the open window would speed up the temperature changes in a dead body. You purposefully pretended not to know that! You murdered him and opened the window and then lied to my face about everything!”

“No, I – ”

“It’s true, Alex, he didn’t!” Maria said loudly, pushing forward and shrugging off her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry, Alex, I lied to you. I was with Kyle the entire night. After our game of cards that night before, Kyle invited me back to his cabin for a nightcap, so that my mother could get some rest, and we just…kept talking. I promise, Alex. Kyle had nothing to do with this.”

Alex turned towards Kyle, who shrugged with a half-smile. But Alex was done. This entire case had fucked him over multiple times, nearly cost him his life and also cost him a second chance with the love of his life. He wasn’t going to bend so easily. “Then why was your identification altered? Kyle Vale?”

Kyle’s smile vanished immediately and opened his mouth to reply. He closed it again after a few seconds. “Yeah,” said Alex, scoffing, “that’s what I thought. Michael!” Michael stepped forward, his eyes barely meeting Alex’s. “Please take Mr Valenti’s keys from him and lock him in his cabin. I want him locked up until the matter is resolved,” Alex said, throwing a hard look at Kyle as he did, who had the decency to look ashamed as he handed over his keys.

Alex turned around, but not before he saw the look Kyle was shooting Maria, who was looking wide-eyed at the scene before her. “Alex, you can’t – ” Maria said desperately, grasping Michael by the arm to stop him. “Michael, don’t let him do this!”

“Miss DeLuca, while I appreciate your input, this is the first solid lead this case has had so far. Unless you can provide me with a better one, I have no other choice than to detain Mr Valenti for the time being. If he didn’t do this, we’ll know soon enough. If he did, do you really want a murderer in your midst for even a second longer?”

To that, Maria had no retort, and Michael escorted Kyle to his cabin. A dreadful, pressing silence filled the train. Even the noise of the engine seemed to bend to its presence. Alex immediately knew that the equilibrium had shifted; before, everybody could still believe the other innocent. Now they had a target. Someone they liked, someone they trusted.

Alex knew how they felt.

And yet.

It didn’t feel right.

Kyle was his best suspect, and yet only a fraction of the evidence pointed his way. It was more than to other people, to be sure. But still, Alex mused, it wasn’t his most solid case by far. He knew the courts would probably not even touch this case on this little evidence.

Sighing, Alex left Miss Otto’s cabin, with Beth still looking stunned, behind and went back to the dining carriage. He pushed open the door thoughtlessly, and found it was not empty.

“Michael, please, just a few more – ”

“ – no, Max, I can’t do this anymore! I can’t lie to – Alex!”

Michael and Max Evans were standing very close together, both with red faces and looking as though Alex just caught them having a very heated argument. “Is everything okay?” Alex said, suspiciously, closing the door behind him. “What can’t you lie about, Michael?”

“It was nothing – ” Max began, but Michael cut him off.

“Max, for once in your life, shut the fuck up.”

Both Max and Alex looked at him in surprise. Alex knew Michael had a foul mouth, but he was polite when he needed to be, when his job required him to be. He would never talk to guests this way… “What’s going on, Michael?”

Michael ran his hands through his curls, trying to make up his mind. “Damn it. Alright." He sighed. "I've been sick of secrets for a long time now. It's time." Alex frowned, his heart picking up its pace as Michael straightened up and looked him square in the eyes. Was Michael going to confess...? "You remember I told you my siblings found me?” Alex nodded, a realisation dawning on him. “Max is my brother. Isobel is my sister. I’m sorry,” Michael said to Max as the latter began to protest, and then again to Alex, who stared, open-mouthed, at the two, “I just can’t lie anymore. Not to you.”

“Michael, I – ” Alex looked from Michael to Max and back. The two couldn’t be more different. Where Max and Isobel shared the same bone structure, the same facial features, even the same shape of their mouths, Michael didn’t look anything like his siblings. He was soft where they were hard, wild where they were reserved. But now that he was looking closer, he could see it in the colour of Michael’s eyes and the set of his shoulders. “How?” he managed to choke out. “How are they both here? Why? Precisely on your train?”

Michael shook his head miserably, but Max stepped in. “Michael got us the tickets. We wanted to be with our brother. It was easy to pull Noah along. He didn’t even realize.”

“You realize how this looks, though. A man gets murdered, and his wife’s two brothers are on the train. One of which, they didn’t have contact with until a couple of years ago! What am I supposed to make of this?!” Alex was well aware his voice was beginning to crack. So many emotions raged through him. He wanted to get to know Michael’s brother, wanted that happiness for Michael, but he also was scared of what it all meant. The coincidences just kept piling up around Michael.

“Nothing,” Michael said, stepping forward and taking Alex’s hand.  “You’re not supposed to make anything out of this, because it’s not anything! Alex, please.”

“Why did you lie?” Alex croaked, his eyes boring into Michael’s. “Just give me a reasonable explanation. You sat there,” Alex gestured wildly at the table they had sat at not a day ago, “and told you me your siblings found you and you just…neglected to mention they were on this train? Why?”

“Max asked me to. He didn’t want you to think exactly what you’re thinking now. Alex, I would do anything to protect my family. You know that better than most.”

“Oh, do I?”

“You think I got this,” Michael held up his maimed hand, and Alex flinched at the memory that surfaced with it, “for fun? You think I would’ve let you go to the army if I didn’t think you were safer there than you were with me?”

“Let me?!” Alex yelled, near hysterical now. “I chose to go into the army! To protect you, from my father! He would’ve killed you, Michael! You couldn’t have stopped me, even if you tried! Which you didn’t!”

Max was backing away from the conversation, looking startled at this sudden change in subject, but Alex barely noticed. Michael was eyes were wide and tears were threatening to spill over. “I didn’t stop you, because your father threatened you! He said he would do to you what he did to me! And I couldn’t let that happen! Your father was going to kill you one day, and I knew that pushing you away and towards the army was going to save you!”

A ringing silence hung between the two of them as they processed what the other had just said. “He did what?” Alex eventually managed. Michael nodded, a few tears escaping. “So my father threatened both of us.”

“We both thought we were doing what was best for the other.”

“And in the end, it was Jesse Manes who got what he wanted,” Alex finished bitterly. “As per fucking usual.”

“I’m so sorry, Alex.”

Alex let out a broken laugh. “What for? You were trying to protect me, I was trying to protect you…we were both hurting and stopped communicating. Jesus, we’re both fucking idiots.”

Michael let out a surprised laugh as well. “Yeah, we are.”

And without waiting another second, Alex flung his arms around Michael’s neck and pressed him into a hug. Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and squeezed tightly. Alex felt warm and fuzzy inside, and for a second – as happened often around Michael – he forgot his current predicament. The hug lasted forever, or so it felt to Alex, and it made him feel warm inside, giving him a strength he hadn’t realized he had been missing. In the end, it was Max’s uncomfortable cough that broke the two apart.

“So,” Max said, scratching his ear, “you must be the Alex Michael’s always going on about.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at Michael, who shrugged noncommittally. “I guess I am.”

“Then let’s start over. I’m Max Evans, Michael’s brother.” Max extended his hand to Alex, and Alex took it without hesitation.

“Alex Manes. I’m Michael’s…well, we don’t have a name for it.”

“I think I got what you two are from the many, many, many stories Michael has told us,” Max said teasingly, winking at the pair of them, earning a disgusted scoff from Michael and a chuckle from Alex.

Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. “So what now?”

Alex rarely encountered three words that could change an atmosphere so profoundly. What now, indeed? “It’s all going in my book, that’s step one.” Alex took out his notebook and traced a line between Max, Isobel and Michael. SIBLINGS, he wrote over the line. “And as for after that? I honest to God have no fucking clue.”

The train slowed down and Michael, Alex and Max watched as the train pulled into a train station. The sign on the platform read LAUSANNE. They’d reached Switzerland.

Their final stop before Paris.

Time was running out.

[pastelwitchling]

Malex one-shot Angst/Fluff Prompt List #9 (Prompt #3)

3. “What happened to you?”

***

               “Maybe we’ll find something in his journals,” Kyle said, already making his way to the pile of notebooks and loose paper.

               “Great idea,” Michael said dryly, his feet on the table in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “The old man’s diary entries, that ought to be helpful.”

               “Do you have anything useful to say, or do you just plan on sitting there all night?”

               “Most useful thing I have to say, Valenti, I’ve already said it. Trusting you is a bad idea, especially considering the fact that I’m just now finding out that you and Alex have been getting awfully cozy in this bunker for months –”

               “We’re partners,” Kyle said, and Michael’s expression hardened. “I trust him a lot more than I trust any of you to work with on this, and believe me, if it hadn’t been for him, you would not be here right now.”

               He stood. “You and Alex aren’t partners. Don’t use that word again. He only got roped into this because of you and your big mouth.”

               “So you’re upset he knows the truth now? Were you having that much fun lying to his face every day?”

               “You son of a bitch –”

               “Enough!” Alex snapped. His hands were clenched into fists on the console, and there was a slight slump in his shoulders as if standing for so long was draining. He looked over his shoulder, annoyed. “You’re giving me a migraine with all this ridiculous bickering, can you please give it a rest for two minutes and focus?!”

               Michael leaned against the table with a scoff, but said nothing. Alex huffed, and said, “I read through the journals—”

               “-All of them?” Michael asked, his brows raised slightly in surprise.

               “-and none of them have said anything about aliens, mentioned the letters, or explains why they’re written in that new language.” He looked over his shoulder at Kyle. “You’d probably have a better chance at finding something, if anything’s there at all. He may have used a special word or nickname that I’m just unfamiliar with.”

               “Gotcha,” Kyle nodded once, and Michael couldn’t help but be bitter at how familiar they sounded. He knew they’d been working with each other for months, but part of him had imagined – or hoped, really – that Alex had hated every second of it, had forced himself to be around Kyle for the sake of uncovering a mystery and making things right.

               Now, as Alex nodded back to Kyle and turned to resume his work without question, Michael could see the amount of trust they shared.

               We’re partners, Kyle’s words rang in his ears, and he pursed his lips, watching with a glare as Kyle glanced at him before taking the notebooks and leaving.

               In the quiet, Michael could hear Alex muttering to himself, typing rapidly on the keyboard as if he knew what each next move was.

               “What’re you doing?” Michael asked, pulling himself off the table and taking a step towards him.

               “Cross-referencing the symbols from that broken UFO piece to any kind of ancient epigraphy. Jim Valenti was clearly working on the same alien symbols, even used them himself, which means they’re a language. If I can locate a similar written pattern recorded at any point in Roswell, especially around the initial crash time, I can find whoever else Jim might’ve been in contact with.”

               Michael stared. “You used to play guitar. Do you still do that?”

               Alex blinked, as if Michael’s statement made no sense, as if he wasn’t talking about Alex at all. “What?”

               Michael came closer, and leaned his back against the console, his eyes on Alex. “You used to play guitar. You used to wear makeup, and ripped jeans, and you talked about wanting to making music.”

               “So did you,” Alex said with a smile that did nothing to hide the pain in his eyes. Michael shook his head. Had Alex always looked so… sad?

               “What happened to you, Alex? Now you’re talking about coordinates a-and ancient languages and you’re using words like in contact with. And this isn’t because of the alien crap, you were like this when you were still making jokes that it didn’t exist.”

               “War happened, Guerin,” Alex said very matter-of-factly. There was no venom in his voice, no cruelty, no taunting… but it still made Michael’s face fall, any false humor in his tone gone.

               “I’m smarter than you give me credit for, you know,” he smirked, and Michael didn’t fail to miss the hurt that flashed his face, as if he thought Michael had considered him incapable of anything to do with intelligence. Michael wanted to close the gap between them and take Alex in his arms, but Alex had gone rigged all over, signaling he didn’t want to be touched.

               “I got good, quickly, and the better I got, the more they wanted me to do.” He scoffed. “It’s a tough mindset to get out of when you’ve been in it long enough. There’s always a war, a fight, a battle to be won or lost. Always.”

               Michael swallowed, his fingers digging into his arms as he kept them crossed. “Why didn’t you ever say no? You could’ve walked away. You could’ve come home.”

               Alex smirked. “Home. What, to my dad, who hates me? My brothers who think I’m a waste of space? Liz, who had left Roswell and gone off to who-knew-where? Maria had her own problems, Kyle and I barely looked at each other at the time, and you…” he trailed off, and resumed his typing, his eyes focused on the screen.

               “I didn’t have a home to come back to, Guerin.”

               “But now you do?”

               Alex’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard, and Michael pained at how easy it was for Alex to dismiss having no one to be there for him. He was used to it, so expectant of it, that when he talked, Michael felt it as a sort of resignation. Alex thought he had been abandoned by everyone. He still thought that way, and the worst part was… he didn’t mind.

               “Now,” he said, pulling Michael out of his thoughts, “I have this.” He gestured to the screen with his chin, and went back to work. “It’s something.”

               Michael said nothing for a moment – what could he say? – and Alex chuckled. “Don’t feel too bad for me, Guerin. I got hurt saving my brothers-in-arms, I can proudly and confidently say that. There are worse ways to lose a limb. And for what it’s worth, Kyle didn’t tell me anything about the alien stuff, I figured it out on my own. Like I said; I’m smarter than you give me credit for.”

               Michael stared at Alex as he searched his screen, unable to look away. He stretched an arm out, his hand hovering over Alex’s head, his fingers close to brushing his hair. He wanted to touch Alex, to hold him tightly and breathe in his scent, if only to prove to himself that while Alex had changed, he was still here. With him. And he wasn’t going to disappear anywhere else, ever again.

               But then the door opened, and Kyle walked back in, an entirely new stack of notebooks tucked into one arm, the recent ones in his other.

               He set them on a table with a loud thump, and Michael took a step back from Alex, unable to help but glance at him even as Kyle watched him.

               “I brought everything I could find that he ever wrote in,” Kyle said, his eyes having gone to Alex as he plopped down in a chair beside the table. “Better get started, huh?”

               “I’ll help you look through them again,” Alex said, turning away from the computer and taking a seat beside him.

               “Good idea, it’d be a lot faster,” Kyle agreed.

               “Just tell me if there was any secret word or phrase that you shared, something that might help us decode whatever clue there might be in here…”

               Michael tilted his head as he watched them, their heads huddled together, pouring over the journal entries. He felt a jealousy burning in his stomach, but there was something else beside it. Something scarier and darker and sadder. Michael realized with an uncomfortable jolt that forced him to look away from the two as they worked that Alex had made a family when he returned to Roswell, but it wasn’t him. It was Kyle.

***

The prompt is courtesy of @hellsdemonictrinity.

Kyle Valenti deserves all the love in the world for being the first and only person to properly appreciate Alex. I’m completely in love and dedicated to Malex, but some Kylex was in order, I think.