#Roswell nm fanfic

[maeglinthebold]

OT3 Battle, Roswell, NM edition

Before you say "why pit two bad bitches against each other" just know that these two would be the final matchup in any RNM OT3 bracket. I'm merely skipping to the end. 😤

Before you say "¿por qué no los dos?" this is for which one should/would/could have gone canon. No way any network would allow two.

Put your reasoning in the tags!

[daughterofelros]

I Need It So Bad I Can Taste It || RNM Kaliz fic

Have some Max/Kyle/Liz Orgasm Delay/Denial with cock rings and cock cages for RNM After Dark 2023

@rnmafterdark

[dayscrazed]

Chapters 14 & 15 posted!!!!!

Before his father pressures him into enlisting in the Air Force, Alex and Michael fall in love...but Michael ends up pregnant. When Alex's gone, Jesse Manes finds out and the consequences are devastating.

Ten years later, could the very thing that broke their hearts be the thing that brings them back together? Alien secrets could mean a miracle and a happy ending.

Based off of the musical, "Bright Star," by Steve Martin and Edie Brickell. Every chapter is based off of a song from the musical. It's very Malex!

[leohtttbriar]

7, 12, 16, 18, 20 - that's a lot so take your pick, I just always like seeing your opinions

right back at you! was secretly hoping you would reblog the game :)

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

never really encountered this phenomena before cobra kai except for the vaguest hint of an aversion to samwise gamgee after everyone kept calling him the "real hero," but that aversion never took, and i'm ashamed to admit such weakness even now.

johnny lawrence was one of my favorite characters in cobra kai season one and then i logged onto tumblr and now i just Do Not Get It. a feeling i think from pre-season 3, even, when he was still a good and consistent character in the show. another character was robby. predictably, he was a bit babygirlified and he got soooo much more attention than sam and tory and even miguel and tbh, that made me pout massively. like. i don't care about him :(

i could be intellectual about this (and, okay, clearly the root of this petty hate is that particular sort of frustration that comes over a girl when all the boys in her fourth grade gym class get mad at her for being faster than them and then they refuse to let her play in their recess soccer game even though she's the best player--and it then sticks with her for the rest of her life) but in a vacuum i probably wouldn't feel the way i do. like, my ire is definitely in response to how other people feel about the bully character from 80's sports movie karate kid.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

you can bet that any female character that has ever been called annoying is at the top of this list. feels like girls like that are always popping up and torturing pop-culture consumers. the only one i can name right now is sam larusso, since that's the most recent model.

but also i read pride and prejudice in seventh grade. didn't get a single word of it, but i did understand that mrs. bennett was extremely annoying. then i read it again a few years later and have been her fierce defender ever since. female characters with high-pitched voices and anxiety: i adore. if you don't like those characters, in my head im thinking you're only as intelligent as me at 13.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

any sort of portrayal of spock as someone who is violent and angry and just holding it back constantly bc he hates being half human--i do Not Get It. any sort portrayal of an alien species on star trek in which the aliens learn to embrace their humanity, or something. like, i can't stand it.

i want spock to be super-duper logical and stoic. i want that to be a good thing. i want all alien characteristics to be embraced and explored. i want the weirdness. new trek just isn't doing weirdness enough! and if human morality and social structures are so universally important, stop being cowardly and explain whyyyyy.

this also applies to fanfic which is, in fact, disastrously worse on this subject. especially fanfic based on the 2009 star trek movie.

but okay it's like---the roswell conspiracy is really fun and stuff cause it is really just the government stoking some nonsense so the russians can't figure out all the special-stupid weapons and spy-equipment they're making. and then it means that everything in roswell, nm is alien themed: little green faces everywhere, three-fingered hands waving at you on billboards, "greetings earthlings," 50's era space-art, and so on. I am very into that aesthetic, especially in the middle of nowhere southwest desert with not a mountain or forest for hundred of miles. of course people were looking up and being like "there must be Something out there. look how big."

all good, yes, and silly. but people really believe it and they really believe that the aliens look the way they do! the way the "witnesses" described little looking men with big ol eyes in a big ol head and extra long arms. sweeties! that's a primate! that's an earth-creature! there's no imagination! there's no weirdness! what if the aliens didn't have a face. what if they didn't have eyes! what if they were made of a chalky substance that molted every few minutes to maintain a needed basic pH and their way of observing electromagnetic radiation was not light projected thru a lens but like little pores of mucous all over their body like the one's on sharks (ampullae of lorenzini) that absorb electromagnetic radiation and also give the creature poles which means they can block all visible light with special mind powers and maybe photosynthesize or something.

i realize that fanfiction is largely concerned with two attractive men going at it, but for all that people claim to be "monster fuckers," that really hasn't borne out in star trek fanfic. explore eroticism with the weird, with the actually alien. i want that. that'd be great. i know octavia butler and others already Did That but i want to see a star trek go boldly, you know what i mean. also, i want something more like eroticism for the sake of the erotic--not as metaphor about feminine subjugation or something (no offense ms. butler).

even if that doesn't happen, would love to read a fanfic or watch a tv show in which, for example, spock's journey is not about how oppressive being a vulcan is, or whatever.

[planetsam]

Hmm I’d be interested in your take on how they process all this mess and work it out. I’d love some Gregory manes wingman assistance to help them get back together

“My brakes are acting funny.”

Micheal bites back his grumpy sigh. He can blame it on sleep depravation. Greg saved his life, the least he can do is make sure his breaks are working properly. Even though the truth is he’d rather have an entire break from the Manes clan. Life saving brothers included.

“Sure I can take a look,” he says.

“I appreciate it,” Greg says.

Michael nods and gets his stuff together. Greg stands there, doing the thing Alex does where he’s perfectly still and completely unrelaxed. Alex does it. Now Michael knows for sure where he got it from. Michael sighs and drops his tools and turns.

“You can just tell me I was a dick,” Michael says, “leaving during Alex’s song? It was a dick move.”

Something like respect shines in Greg’s eyes and it surprises him how much he likes seeing it there.

“I was actually coming to see if you were alright,” Greg says, “I know what it feels like to walk away from Alex.”

“Yeah, it’s not the first time I’ve done that,” Michael mutters.

Greg nods. Again it’s really like seeing an older version of Alex. Michael always wondered how Alex managed to appear like a warped version of his father, especially when he was in his military uniform. Looking at Greg, he doesn’t have to. It’s not a warped version of Jesse, it’s the older Manes Alex has been emulating all these years.

“Is it the last?” Greg asks. Michael swallows and wishes that he had an answer. Greg doesn’t look disappointed, but Michael almost wishes he would. A faint smile that is not very comforting comes to Greg’s lips, “if it was, I’d tell you that the ‘dick move’ wasn’t just leaving during the song.”

“I’m not good for him,” Michael says, “not right now.”

“Who decided that?” Greg asks. Michael fumbles with whether or not the question is rhetorical, “I’m guessing it wasn’t Alex. All things considered.”

“Alex doesn’t always know what’s good for him.”

Even Greg can’t fully deny that one and the smile he gives is bitter but genuine, something Michael can’t help but reciprocate. Anyone whose loved Alex understands that. It’s part of loving him, even though it never gets any easier. Loving Alex usually means trying to keep him safe and happy—take the occasional breather, maybe eat every once in a while. But trusting that Alex knows what’s good for him is a whole other thing.

“So what would make you good for him?” Greg asks.

“Huh?” Michael looks at him, waiting for a sign he’s joking but Greg’s smile is gone and he’s really fucking serious.

“I asked what would make you good for him,” he says, “if you know you’re not, do you know how you would be? And what you would do to be there?”

Michael opens his mouth and then closes it. Saying he should be successful and stable, with a job and a college degree all seems insufficient. Saying he wants to have a house so Alex can come home and a name so Alex doesn’t have to grimace when he signs his seems so far off he guesses they’ll be old and grey by the time he accomplishes any of it. He opens and closes his mouth again and then has to shake his head. Greg gives away nothing as he nods. Michael has every reason to trust him but some part of him is still perversely glad that he doesn’t have a tool in his hand when he does.

“We both know my brother doesn’t love lightly,” Greg says, “none of us are wired that way. Now I don’t know what your plan is. I think you want to be with my brother and I think you’re willing to work to get there—“

“I am,” Michael cuts in. Greg gives him a look that has him locking his lips.

“But you’ve set Alex up to have his heart broken. Again.”

Michael winces.

That’s the thing, saying if Alex dates someone else they can be even—that’s bullshit. And they both know it too. Alex doesn’t date in half measures. Hell he and Michael haven’t dated properly and he hasn’t done half measures there either. He loves Alex and he knows Alex feels the same way. He also knows there have been times when the passion between them has been so toxic he’s stunned any of the love has made it through. Michael isn’t much better at the half measures thing. Which makes the realization all the worse.

“Shit,” he swears loudly, barely resisting the urge to throw the nearest tool. Greg looks relieved he caught on and less than thrilled at him swearing. Michael doesn’t care, “we needed a clean break,” Michael explains.

“Did you talk about that?” Greg asks. Michael looks away. Greg shakes his head, “it’s a little ironic how you know all our dark family secrets and can’t talk about your relationship.”

“It’s hysterical,” Michael snaps back, “shit,” he repeats, “I didn’t want to do this again,” he looks at Greg, “you gotta know I didn’t want to hurt him again.”

Greg gives him a hard look that is two thousand percent protective older brother. If Michael wasn’t so in love with Alex, he’s pretty sure he’d cave to it. The real irony is that of the Manes men who have threatened him to stay away from Alex, Greg is far more terrifying. Jesse may have done monstrous things but everyone still came out of it alive. Greg killed him to keep Alex safe. Michael’s seen it with his own eyes. Thankfully Greg is only looking mildly annoyed and frustrated, not murderous. Still Michael doesn’t relax.

“I know,” Greg says.

“Seriously I—“ he stops, “you do?”

“Yes,” Greg says, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he sighs, “Alex has a date with Forrest tonight.”

Michael swallows the panic in his throat. Alex has a date. That’s a good thing, or it was before his big brother came and dropped some serious truth bombs on him. Now it’s not. If Alex is going on a date then he’s got feelings. Or the start of feelings. He refuses to fully name the feeling jealousy. It’s definitely mixed with his own worry about everything that Greg has just told him.

“I don’t want to ruin it,” Michael says.

“I don’t want you to ruin it either,” Greg agrees, “I also don’t want you to put my brother through another heartbreak,” he glances at his watch, “it’s 2pm. If you’re going to say something the sooner the better. His date’s picking him up at 8.”

Michael nods.

“Let me look at your car—“ he begins. Greg rolls his eyes, “your car’s fine,” Michael realizes, “got it,” he says, “I’m gonna—“ he motions towards his truck.

He manages to not get any speeding tickets as he gets to Alex’s house. Michael has no doubt that’s where he is. He hopes that Alex isn’t in the shower but that’s a bridge he knows he’s going to have to cross when he gets to it. He rings the doorbell quickly and when the door doesn’t open instantaneously, he finds himself pacing. He’s never been the best when it comes to talking about his feelings, especially where Alex is concerned. And Alex is embracing the fact that he’s some kind of wordsmith genius. Michael has no idea how much he’s about to be dressed down, but again that is a problem that belongs squarely in the later bucket.

“Guerin?”

Michael turns. Alex looks confused to see him standing there. Michael doesn’t know why he suddenly whips his hat off his head, maybe he needs something to hold. Or kill himself with if this blows up in his face. Concern is written all over Alex’s features. Michael gives himself one last moment to cling to the dream that he’ll be a good and whole man when he tells Alex his feelings. That he’ll tell him he fought his way back and beyond. Not just for Alex but because Alex has always made him believe in the good of people. The good of himself. He’s got nothing to back those words up with. It’s a hard fucking dream to let go of.

“I know you have a date,” Michael says. Alex clenches his jaw, “and I, uh, I was trying to get better. Swear to god I was,” he fumbles, “and I was gonna come back when I was,” he adds, “when I had proved I was,” he grips his hat tighter, “but I don’t want you to get your heart broken or have to break someone’s heart—“ he braces himself for Alex to laugh but he doesn’t.

“He’s nice,” Alex says, “I like being around him,” Michael nods, “there could be something there. We could be happy together,” he glares at him, “maybe you’re not the only one who wants to be good for someone, Guerin.”

“I deserved that,” Michael mutters.Alex’s glare turns venomous, “you are good for someone—you’re good for everyone,” Michael argues. 
“I don’t need a pep talk from you,” Alex says.

Fuck, Michael’s forgotten how hot quiet, confident and angry Alex is. Now is not the time to give into how attractive he is. Michael really thought he would be better at this. Even just the whole not focusing on how hot Alex is thing. But he’s failing pretty spectacularly at that as well.

“He’s nice,” Michael says, “and maybe you two are gonna be good together. But you don’t love him.” 
“I don’t know him that well,” Alex argues, “I could.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, though the possibility hurts, “you could,” he looks at him, “but it’s not going to be the same.”

Alex looks away. Michael reminds himself that the conversation was going to come back to this. It had to come back to this. Because Michael’s been at the crossroads where Alex is. But Michael’s a coward, he always has been. Especially when it comes to Alex.

“I wanted you to have a chance to be with someone else,” Michael says.

“Why?” Alex questions.

“You deserved it,” Michael says, “I know you don’t need me to tell you that,” he adds quickly.

“You think I deserve it because you dated Maria?” Michael nods. Alex sighs, “I can’t help you make us even for your decisions,” he says, “and I can’t do this,” he adds, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I know,” Michael says as Alex turns, “look, I know. You’re not me, I know being even like that isn’t the same thing to you, it’s not to me either,” he tells him, “not when it comes to you.” Alex rests his hand on the doorframe but he’s not slamming the door in Michael’s face, “I thought about you dating him,” Michael continues, “and I thought about you breaking someone’s heart and—“ he swallows, “I don’t want that. I thought if I got better first it would be the right thing to do. But I don’t want to get better first if it’s gonna me you’re hurt in the process.”

Alex stays frozen and Michael is both glad and furious that he can’t see his face. He wants to know what Alex is thinking and he also wants to never see him again so he doesn’t have to feel rejected. He knows Alex could tell him to fuck off and if he does, Michael knows he’s going to have to figure out what to do next. If there is a next. He presses his lips together as Alex just stays there. It’s better than him walking away but it’s not exactly how Michael saw this going.

“Are you trying to say that you’re ready to be with me?” Alex asks finally.

“I’m saying I want us to both make that call,” Michael says, “I want us to meet in the middle.”

Alex whips around as Michael tries not to choke on his own pounding heart. He hadn’t meant to throw the lyrics out there. Alex’s cheeks go pink and Michael feels his own face turn red. Alex holds his gaze for a moment before he seems to come to some kind of decision.

“I’m not cancelling my date,” he says, “it’s in a few hours. That’s not fair to Forrest,” Michael nods around his breaking heart, “I’ll call you afterwards.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael mumbles.

“I’m not going to date him,” Alex says, suddenly a lot closer, “but I’m not going to stand him up or cancel with hours to spare after he asked me out and I said yes.”

Michael feels like he has whiplash.

“You’re not going to date him?” He repeats.

“I’m not going to promise anything,” Alex says, “we’ve talked about doing this before. It’s too soon to say if this is going to be different,” Michael nods, “but I’d like it to be.”

‘Me too.”

Alex holds his gaze and nods.

“Then I’ll call you later,” he says.

To his credit, Michael makes it until 8:30 before he parks himself outside of Alex’s house. He knows Alex doesn’t believe that they have to be even, but he doesn’t agree. Not on everything. Not on this. So he sits there. It’s hours before Alex’s car pulls up and when Michael sees that he’s alone, his heart jumps. Or maybe that’s also because Alex looks really good as he gets out of his car. When he walks up and sees Michael there he stops and shakes his head, though the smile on his lips is what catches Michael’s eyes.

“I was wondering why you weren’t home,” Alex says.

Michael swallows as he stands up. Alex went to his trailer. That’s the thing that turns over in his head as they close the distance.

“I was trying to surprise you,” he admits.

“I thought we could talk,” Alex says. Michael nods, “really talk. We need to talk about a lot.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees.

“Should we—“ Alex’s lips press together and then part as he nods towards the door.

“Yeah, we should.”

Neither of them move.

“Guerin,” Alex starts.

“Yeah, uh—“

“What?”

Michael knows they’re supposed to be working on their communication and he doesn’t even get to say he’s human as an excuse. Which is good because excuses aren’t really something he’s interested in as he closes the distance between them. Alex inhales sharply as their lips touch, but after a moment he sighs into the kiss, his lips parting as Michael remembers what home feels like. It’s not a long kiss, he doesn’t expect it to lead anywhere, but they still wind up standing with their foreheads pressed together and the world fading away.

“Did I completely misread that?” Michael rasps and Alex shakes his head.

“No,” he says.

“Oh thank god,” Michael breathes. Alex gives him an amused but slightly dazed smile and Michael feels something unravel in his chest, “we should talk,” he finishes.

Alex nods and takes his hand and together they go inside.

[angsty-nerd]

The Great Divide, Pt 4

Is it Super Bowl Sunday? Do you need a distraction from the racists vs the Ex-Pats? Well, lucky for you, I just updated my Max Valenti fic again! ☺️👍.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476075/chapters/69775341

[motleymoose]

For Her Own Sake

Fandom: Roswell NM (2019) Characters: Rosa Ortecho Words: 522 TW: Suicide, Self-Harm and Major Depression

When she had been inside the creepy alien egg, Rosa Ortecho didn’t dream.

That was one of the few things she missed about being dead. In death, she was at peace. She couldn’t feel anything. There was no brain activity. And that meant that she didn’t have the recurring nightmares that she was being chased by a strange man during a rare lightning storm in her hometown of Roswell, New Mexico, a nightmare where she almost always ended up dying.

It was the third night, the fifth night, the twentieth night in a row that she woke up with a strangled scream and gasping sobs that wracked her body and left her even more tired when she awoke in the morning. The man had said things to her, awful, hurtful things that made her want to cry and whimper and cut herself. She didn’t know who he was or what exactly he wanted, and she didn’t want to find out. She just wanted it all to stop.

Rosa Ortecho wanted to not exist. Because not existing meant she wouldn’t have these feelings of hopelessness and regret and guilt that manifested into anger and drug abuse. Not existing meant she wouldn’t have weird dreams about a maniac trying to needle her into doing horrible things to people she barely even knew. No longer being meant that she wouldn’t have to see the pain and the hope in her baby sister’s eyes, wouldn’t have the crushing guilt of being alive while Max was dying lie heavily on her shoulders, wouldn’t feel the urge to protect her sister from things she herself didn’t understand.

And Max. The thought of what he had done stabbed at her caged heart. She never asked for this. Being dead, there had been nothing. Being brought back to the living was confusing and frustrating and painful. It felt like she had fallen asleep and woken up to find that all of her things had been moved a foot to the left. The world didn’t make sense and her feelings didn’t make sense and the fact that everyone she’d loved was either dead or a decade older than who she was familiar with.

It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair and she would not allow herself to rely on any of them for help. Because if she did, she knew that they’d fuck up. It was only a matter of time before it happened, so she might as well beat them to the punch and just blow all of her relationships, no matter how fresh and confusing and needed they were.

She wasn’t going to allow herself to be hurt or used again. She was taking her life into her own hands, and if she wanted to stop existing, that was her choice.

She’d not had a say in her first death or her resurrection, but Rosa Ortecho wasn’t going to let that stop her from doing what needed done. For her own sake.

[8verity8]

Chapter 1 of my 12 Days of Malex fic is now up!

Check back daily for chapter updates throughout the event as we count down the days till Christmas! 🎄

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

A Place To Call Home, Ch 1.

Fandom: Rosewell, New Mexico.

Summary: A canon divergent take on Roswell, New Mexico, and the relationships between Isobel, Noah, and Rosa; later parts will shift the focus to Michael and Alex, as well as Michael and Noah. What is it like to share a body with another alien? Can broken trust be mended? Do the ends really justify the means?

Rating: M.

Tags: Canon divergence, minor character death, not really character death, body sharing, polyamory, hurt/comfort, addiction problems, sickfic, revenge, fix it, friends to enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers, Noah is complicated, cw: dubious age stuff for a little bit considering Nasedo/Noah is who-the-hell-knows how old.

Word Count: 1293

It was supposed to be a simple journey.

The ship was small, by  the standards of their world; discretion had ensured the escape of the  Royal Family and their court. Still, it had been strong, well-supplied.  It would take time to find a new world, a safe one, but it was worth it  for the chance to start over. They already had a few worlds selected to  explore. Soon enough, they would have a new life somewhere else.  Somewhere free from the toxic, murderous regime that had taken over  their homeland.

But then a sensor went off in the lower decks.  Nasedo stirred, feeling the psychic call of his masters; something was  wrong. He grabbed a weapon and headed down, following an unfamiliar  scent to the control deck. Someone was at the wheel, changing the  coordinates. He wouldn't remember, later, who it was that he fought  against that fateful day. All he remembered was a flash of metal, fists  connecting to flesh as he tried to defend the ship. He was a Protector,  and he was willing to die to defend his people.

Nasedo didn't die.

He  managed to get control back of the ship, but only in time to save it  from completely disintegrating in the atmosphere of Earth. The ship  smashed into the ground, exploding outward in a spray of fire and  iridescent shards. Nasedo tried to stand, but pain ripped through his  body. He cursed under his breath, but at least he had breath; the  atmosphere was survivable. Rich, heady, too much, but... But he didn't  have time to adjust to his surroundings. There was a shout from his  queen. He barely heard the words, but he understood the order: protect  the children. Nasedo scanned the wreckage, finding the three pods flung  towards some nearby mountains. Safe. Intact.

There was a cave in  the mountains. Nasedo sensed it, hollow and cool and sheltered. Perfect.  It was difficult, pushing the pods into the tunnel and tucking them  away from immediate sight. His muscles and ribs burned, and he felt  blood leaking from a gash along his head, but his king and queen were  relying on him to keep the heirs safe. Once they were safe, Nasedo  headed back out to try and find other survivors.

A few dead  bodies lay among the wreckage, but it could have been worse. It seemed  like most of the survivors had exited their pods already, huddling  around their leaders. The queen was speaking to their people; Nasedo  turned away, grabbing what pods he could find and moving them towards  the other caves nearby in case they needed to shield themselves. He had  heard of Earth as a child, in his classes, but the planet was largely a  mystery. He wished he'd paid closer attention. Now, most of the teachers  were dead. They were some of the first to have been slaughtered by the  invading regime.

Nasedo was walking back from the mines when he  saw them. Metal vehicles rolling along the ground, rumbling and belching  an acrid smoke, two bright lights glaring from the front like the  malevolent eyes of some desert animal. Something inside twisted in  unease. He walked faster, as fast as he could manage, his heart drumming  even quicker as the vehicles stopped and beings emerged. Pale in the  moonlight, bipedal, two arms. Forward facing eyes. Predators.

Run.

Nasedo froze, hearing the voice of his queen in his head once more.

RUN.

He  barely turned when he heard it. Pop, pop. Small explosions, rapid,  followed by the sound of screaming. Nasedo clenched his teeth, diving  behind pile of stone that felt all too small as he listened to his  people die. His nails dug into his palms as he fought the urge to get  up, to go back, to fight. He was supposed to be a warrior, he was  supposed to be out there between his king and queen, not...

...  The heirs. Nasedo crawled along the ground, slowly making his way to  where he'd hidden the pods. Protect them. He had to protect them. Keep  them safe. It was too late for the others, he knew. Just as the queen  must have known. He felt them die, one by one, feel their agony in his  head and chest. But if he would die, too, he would die keeping those  bloodthirsty monsters away from the children. He dragged himself in  front of the tunnel entrance, weapon in hand as he waited.

No one  ever came. He lay there, listening to the gurgling, fading, wet cries  of his people. He kept silent. He kept still. It was hours later, but  the Earthlings left. Nasedo stayed put for another hour. Two. Three. No  one came back. It was then that he finally stood, reaching out with his  mind to try and search for someone. Anyone. Nothing. Pieces of the ship  were gone. The rest of the pods were gone. The only thing left was  blood, body fluids, and some terrible chemical smell. He open and closed  his hands, a choking noise building in his throat. All that escaped was  a whimper.

What now, what now? What to do? The pods weren't  open. He couldn't pull the children out until they were ready. There was  no way to know when that would be. There was no one to give him orders.  No one to give him direction. He felt frozen in place, exhausted and  miserable and covered in his own blood. There was only one possible  action left: survive. That was all he had left. Survive, and when the  time came, protect the heirs.

Nasedo found himself at the other  cave where he'd managed to hide the only other pod he'd salvaged. It was  broken. Barely functional. Still, 'barely' was better than 'not at  all'. With a little luck, it would keep him alive until the children  were ready to come out. And then, Nasedo thought with grim satisfaction,  they would find a way to survive, together. And then, perhaps, they  would find a way to thrive. If they could send out a distress call to  other ships out there...

Nasedo slipped into the pod, shivering as the mist inside enveloped him.

He  didn't heal. He didn't sleep. He curled there, awake and aware of every  second that ticked by, as the days turned into months and the months  turned into years. He recited all the commandments of his home. He  repeated the oath he'd sworn when he became a Protector. He went over  every scientific fact, every constellation and star he'd memorized,  every song his mother had taught him as a child, all the names of every  weapon and fighting form he'd learned from his teachers. When that grew  stale, his mind began to turn to blood.

Thoughts of vengeance  played through his head, little trickles at first that kept his mind  busy. He pushed them away at first. It wasn't honorable. But as the  years became decades, the little thoughts came more and more, turning  from a small stream into a roaring, cold flood of hatred and venom. It  pumped through his veins, keeping his heart beating. They would pay for  what they'd done, and he had all sorts of delicious plans for how he  would make them suffer.

Fifty years passed before he felt it. A  flicker, small and afraid and desperately crying out. Nasedo tried to  break free of the pod, clawing at it until his nails bent and his skin  bled, but he was trapped. His body was atrophied. Weak. All he could do  was press his withered face to the side of the pod and wait, praying  with everything he had left in him that someday, they would return for  him.

Seven years after that, he heard a scream.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Would You Like Fries With That?

Prompts from @roswellprompts

outsider pov of liz and michael’s budding friendship

when liz won’t stop calling michael ‘mikey’ he retaliates by calling her elizabeth

Would You Like Fries With That?

A Roswell: New Mexico Fanfic

The first time Arturo ever saw Michael Guerin he was an underfed preteen sharing a table with Max and Isobel Evans.  He only ordered a side of fries the first time, and paid in all change. If Arturo had made sure the side of fries was bigger than it would normally be, no one was the wiser.  In the years that followed, Max Evans would make sure he ordered first and buy two meals. The other boy never looked happy about it, and insisted he would pay him back later. It wasn’t until his teens that he ever ordered a full meal for himself  - after he’d been hired by Sanders’ Auto. If his best cooks all knew to make the size of the meal slightly bigger when they saw the teen’s name on the ticket, it was a shared secret.

In the years that followed Rosa’s death, Arturo didn’t see the young man as often.  Nor did he ever seem to be with the Evans anymore. He’d come in, always alone, and always order to go.  Roswell was a town that loved to talk, and Michael had two different reputations. There was the drunk with the speeding tickets and the gambling charges.  Then there was the young man the ranchers and Sanders talked about. The mechanic who could fix anything, and never missed a day’s work. Of course, among the ranchers and ranch hands all three listed offenses were more par for the course than a shocking example of poor behaviour.  Despite holding a better reputation among his co-workers than the townsfolk, Arturo still always saw the sullen young man alone.

The first time he saw Liz talking with Michael after she returned to Roswell was an afternoon - right before she headed into work at the hospital.  They stopped outside the Crashdown Cafe to talk. He couldn’t hear a word they were saying, and at first he wondered if it wasn’t about Max Evans. Liz had admitted to feeling conflicted over her feelings for Max, seeing as they knew so little about each other’s lives in the years apart.  If she wanted to know more about Max’s life in Roswell, he supposed she could be talking to his friends. However, the conversation went on a far longer than he expected, and they both seemed to be very animated about whatever the subject was. Liz suddenly looked at the time on her watch, and it was clear she was cutting the conversation short as she went to her car.  MIchael came in to order his meal to go as if nothing new had just happened. If he still slipped him extra fries, Michael didn’t catch on.

The next time he saw Liz with Michael together, it was when he’d come in to order his usual meal to go. Liz had taken his bag to him, but ten minutes later he was still at the counter, nibbling fries out of his to-go container and talking to her. This time he heard enough of their conversation to know they were discussing chemicals, which was definitely not the conversation topic he’d expected.  Nor was it a topic he expected two people to seem to enjoy so much or have such strong opinions on. Apparently he was wrong on both accounts, though, because Liz and Michael seemed to have very strong opinions on chemicals and were able to discuss them for another fifteen minutes until Liz had to get back to the counter. Of all the people to suddenly break the bubble of solitude around the young man, the last person he’d expected was his daughter.  Especially when Liz seemed determined to live in a bubble of solitude of her own.

Apparently Liz’s bubble was breaking, though.  She went with Maria on a trip to Texas, and upon her return was smiling like he hadn’t seen her smile in a long time.  The next morning, over another batch of her frankly terrible healthy version of churro pancakes, she told him that she was thinking of pursuing a relationship with Max.  Arturo would be lying if he said he didn’t approve. Max Evans was a good man, and he knew he’d always had a soft spot for his daughter.

When Michael showed up in the afternoon to pick up a late lunch, Liz’s eyes lit up the same way they would have if Maria or Alex had walked in the door.  “Look what the cat dragged in from Texas.”

“I’d say something witty about my truck making it back in one piece, but that would only be if you got to drive, cuz Max drives like an old lady.”  Michael told her.

“Yah, he obeyed the speed limit.”  Liz admitted readily. “Even on the rural highway where everyone else was driving over a hundred.”

“Told ya.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“Yah, I don’t want details when it comes to you and Max.”  MIchael shook his head.

“Should I be insulted?  Cuz I’ve been told I’m pretty hot.”  She gestured to herself, despite being dressed in the cafe uniform.

“It’s not you, it’s Max.”  Michael assured her. “Or possibly the antenna.”

“So if it was me and Kyle you’d want details?” Liz tormented.

“Gross, I was hungry, Ortecho.”

“You just don’t have any taste, Mikey.”

“Okay, seriously?  Mikey? I thought that was a drunk Liz moment. Nobody calls me that.”

“Well, I think it fits.”

“No.”

“I’m going to call you that from here on out.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Look on the bright side, you’ll always know when it’s me calling you.”

“So I can run the other way?”  MIchael gestured to one side in exaggeration of the idea.

Liz only smiled at his teasing.  “How’s Maria? I have to stop by still.”

“Oh, as delightful as always.”

“You seemed into it in Texas.”

“I was drunk in Texas.”

“Aw, did you get shot down, Mikey?”

“Did you and Max seriously get separate rooms, Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth?”  LIz repeated. “Okay, no.  No bueno.”

“I think it fits.”

“Okay, Mikey, we’ll see how long you can last at this.”

“Sure thing, Elizabeth.  Anyhow, I’m here for lunch.”

“Oh, you’re buying me lunch?”  Liz grinned. “That’s so sweet.”

“Why would I buy you lunch at your family’s cafe?”

“So you’re buying me lunch elsewhere?”

“You aren’t getting a free lunch out of me.”

“I’m hurt, I thought we were closer than that.”

Friendship, Arturo decided, looked good on both of them. And if he still added extra fries, only Liz gave him a speculative glance over it.

Fini

I needed something fun and light, and not angsty.  

The timeline from the return from Texas actually has me confused.  Cuz somehow Liz gets back from Texas, goes to the lab, then to the cave.  They leave the cave for some reason - basically so their kiss is scenic and not in the pod cave and so Noah can find Isboel - but then they go back into the cave to give Isobel the serum.  Then take Isobel to Max’s, but Liz somehow needs to go to work, again, even though she seemed to just come from there. Somewhere, sometime, Michael found out Isobel was awake cuz he goes to the hospital to make sure she’s alright.  And he’s wearing different clothes than he and Alex’s initial face off in the junkyard - because then he was in his clothes from Texas. Wait, isn’t he in different clothes when he and Alex talk and he shows him the bunker? Did Alex just hang around outside while he showered or something?  The bottom line is, I have no idea if their scene at the Crashdown can believably occur cuz I’m super confused how much time passed. LOL But for the fic's sake I’m saying somewhere a day passed and it happened.

[echo-bleu]

Looking Straight At The Sun

Chapter 2 is up!

Title: Looking Straight At The Sun

Fandom: Roswell New Mexico

Chapters: 2/2

Words: 4734 (story), 2669 (chapter)

Relationship: Alex Manes & Liz Ortecho, Alex Manes/Michael Guerin, Liz Ortecho/Max Evans

Characters: Alex Manes, Liz Ortecho, Michael Guerin (will show up in part 2)

Summary: Alex and Liz have a much needed discussion about Max, Michael and childhood memories, and then go on a much needed bender to forget it all. Set post season 1.

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol, Drinking, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Max is mentioned, but not actually there, Because he’s temporarily dead, Alex&Liz friendship, Canon Disabled Character, Post-Season/Series 01, Light Angst            

A/N: Part two of two. I love friendships, and I love the friendships on this show especially, so this my tribute to that. It’s got more Malex than Echo, but there’s some of both. I hope you like it!

Thank you to @eveningspirit for beta-reading and providing all the encouragements I need and more.

Read on AO3

(chapter 2 excerpt)

“How did you get this cabin?” Liz asks once they're both settled around the low table with a beer. They didn't talk much on the way over, each lost in their thoughts, but Alex is grateful that silence with Liz is still as comfortable as it used to be.

“Jim Valenti left it for me,” Alex answers.

“Wow. I remember you and Kyle were friends when we were kids, but−”

Alex bites his lip. “Jim was...I didn't understand back then, but he was stuck. He didn't approve what my father was doing, to me, and probably to the aliens at Caulfield too, but my father must have threatened him with something really big.”

“You know he was−” Liz trails off, hesitating.

“Rosa's father? Yes. Kyle found pictures and files here, actually. I think Jim wanted to make up for all of it, when he was dying. So he wrote Kyle some coded notes, and left me this place.”

Read the rest on AO3

[angrycowboy]

Walking into the Unknown

For Alex Manes Appreciation Week 2019

Prompt #3: Alex interacting with others he hasn’t yet…

On AO3

------------

There have not many many moments in Alex’s life where he’s been taken completely by surprise. The way Michael Guerin had looked at him in the shed that day 10 years ago was among the first. The Air Force had since taught him to be prepared for any eventuality, to cover his bases and not allow for surprises, not allow to be taken off guard. Being taken by surprise in the Middle East could mean death, and even if he believed for a certain amount of time there weren’t many people left who would mourn him, Alex always planned on surviving. The Air Force was not a death wish to him - it was a way to win battles that he’d never been given the correct tools to fight before.

But seeing Rosa Ortecho sitting on the sofa in Max Evans’ living room is something he is completely and utterly unprepared for, and he has no problem admitting that.

“Rosa?” His voice cracks saying her name, but Alex finds he doesn’t care.

She’s alive.

Liz is sitting next to her, and Maria is perched on one of the stools next to the kitchen counter. Alex spares a moment to wonder where Max Evans is, since it’s his house, but knows it’s doesn’t really matter because Rosa is alive. He stands inside the door, unmoving because he doesn’t quite remember how in that moment, staring at her, just taking her in - how she looks exactly the same, which shouldn’t be such a surprise because this is Roswell, and aliens exist, so is it really surprising someone can be brought back from the dead?

“How?” He asks, still standing just inside the door, because it’s been ten years, this shouldn’t be possible.

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, and Alex finally unsticks himself from where he’s standing and nearly collapses on the sofa into the space next to her, wrapping his arms around her. He feels her do the same, feels her arms wrap around his back, hears her laugh, feels her breath on his neck, feels her hair brush across his face - all reminding him that’s she’s here, she’s alive.

When he pulls back from her finally, he notices that Liz and Maria are gone, as if knowing that Alex needed - wanted - his own moment with her. Clearly they’d already had their own, and he appreciates that level of love and understanding between the four of them.

“How about you tell me what I’ve missed.”

Alex knows there are tears in his eyes, because he loves Maria and Liz, but it had been Rosa who really knew about how bad it was at home for him. It was Rosa he’d confided in 10 years ago about the almost-kiss in the shed with Michael. It was Rosa who helped him plan how to get out of Roswell and away from his father after graduation, and never look back. Rosa had been the glue in their group, and her death had left them shattered and into pieces - fragments scattered to the wind.

“I’ve missed you,” he replies instead, and just watches as the smile spreads across her face. He lets her reach up to rest her hand on his cheek, relishes in the touch, because it just keeps reminding him that she’s real and she’s here and she’s alive.

“You had Liz and Maria.”

Alex shakes his head.

“I’ve spent the past ten years in the Air Force,” he finally admits, his voice quiet, waiting for the disappointment to appear on Rosa’s face, because he knows he deserves it for giving in, for doing that one thing he always swore he wouldn’t.

“What happened?” Rosa reaches out and takes his hands in hers, and Alex feels himself deflate. Lets his shoulders relax, feels the last bit of tension fall from his body. Because of course, of course, she doesn’t judge him. Of course she’d just ask him to explain what happened instead. “It must have been bad for you to-”

Alex looks away, trying to find the words.

“It was perfect,” he starts, bringing his gaze back to hers. “Michael looked at me, and I just - but we were in the shed, and my dad found us.” Alex pauses when he feels Rosa squeeze his hand, because she knows. Even before he says it, he knows she knows. “He shattered the bones in Michael’s hand, and something in me broke that night.”

Rosa gets that look in her eyes, the one that tells Alex she understands.

“And now it’s like, we’re never on the same page,” Alex continues. “Like too much time has passed. But I still love him.”

It feels freeing, in a way, to finally say the words out loud. To finally admit them, free of metaphors and hidden meanings.

“You look happy.”

Does he? It’s taken months for him to get to this point. Coming back to Roswell, learning how to be himself again - relearning what that even means, has been the biggest challenge. He and Michael have crashed together, and fallen apart, and Alex has walked away, and Michael had put his own walls up in the meantime, and Alex isn’t quite sure if happy is the right word, but for now he’ll take it. Maria’s hopeful feels more accurate, but Alex isn’t about to argue with someone who just came back from the dead.

“I’m still dealing with my dad. Trying to stay one step ahead of him.”

Rosa bites her lip, as if debating what to say next, and Alex can’t help but raise his eyebrows at her, egging her on. From everything he’s learned over the past several months, he doubts there’s anything she can tell him that he doesn't know now. Though to her, it might seem like he shouldn’t know anything. He’s not entirely clear on what the passage of time has been like for her - if it exists at all.

“You’ve missed a lot.”

“Like how now everyone finally knows about aliens?”

Alex just smiles in response, unsure of how to even respond to that. He’d guessed that Rosa had known after he and Kyle had come across the bunker at the cabin, and after he’d found the alien glass hidden in the wall. Process of elimination told him that it was unlikely Rosa hadn’t told Jim Valenti her suspicions - especially if she was able to figure out on her own that he was her biological father.

“Or that you're actually a Valenti?” Alex can't help himself.

“I mean, you’re the one who kissed an alien in the UFO Emporium,” Rosa laughs, and Alex hasn’t even really let himself think about that.

He levels her with a look, and raises his eyebrows, because of course he’s thought about it. Ever since he confronted his father about Project Shepard in the bunker all those weeks ago, and came across his father’s research into the Evans twins and Michael Guerin, it’s been something that Alex has occasionally thought of. But he’d never gotten the chance to bring it up to Michael, it’s never been the right moment for the two of them to laugh over the ridiculous perfection of that moment. Even during their talk in the junkyard, they’d both skipped over that day, as if the memories were too painful for either of them to bring up.

“So I guess you know it wasn’t really Isobel Evans that-”

“Yeah, Liz cleared that up.”

Alex nods, because he knows he’s changing the subject, but it hurts talking about Michael. It hurts thinking about Michael, because Alex hasn’t talked to him since that night in the Airstream, and he has no idea if he’s okay, or what’s happened to him in the meantime. But it’s been less than 24 hours since that happened, and Alex knows the main reason Liz called him over here is probably to help piece together some sort of identity for Rosa, though he’s still unsure how they’re going to explain anything to anyone - specifically Arturo.

“You’ll figure it out,” Rosa says, doubling back to their original topic, and Alex feels watched now, as if she’s regarding him, and trying to make sure she’s getting a reading on him - it’s very similar to the look Maria gives him when she’s doing her psychic thing. “Tell me more about what you’ve done to your father.”

“For starters,” Alex begins, “I outrank him.”

Rosa doesn’t need to say anything, but Alex can just see how proud she is in the way she laughs, and in the way she smiles, and in the way she squeezes his hands in encouragement. And nothing is better, there's still so much for then to deal with, but it feels good to finally be able to take a moment and breathe.

[lire-casander]

Alex is not focusing on the homework glaring at him from the desk. He’s attempting to get through his shift at the ticket booth at the UFO museum. He needs his algebra done for tomorrow, but the equations are a blur before his eyes as he recalls how stupid he’s been, for even thinking Michael Guerin was into guys – into him, even.

With a huff, he puts his notebook aside. He’s not going to get anything done today if he keeps thinking about what ifs, so he better do something productive. Although, when he looks up at the street behind the glass, there’s no one to sell tickets to, so his attempt at distracting himself from beating thoughts is futile. He fidgets in his seat, green visor in place blocking part of the sun and helping him avoid curious glances as he scolds at himself for being childish. If Guerin doesn’t like him like that, he has to man up and accept it. It’s not as if he’s already head over heels for him. He can’t be.

He isn’t.

First time writing an Au, so please be gentle. @ubiestcaelum and @hannah-writes are to blame for this insane 3k+ AU fic idea, without them this would not even have been written in the first place. Love you both!

[dayscrazed]

Chapters 9, 10 & 11 posted!!!!!

Before his father pressures him into enlisting in the Air Force, Alex and Michael fall in love...but Michael ends up pregnant. When Alex's gone, Jesse Manes finds out and the consequences are devastating.

Ten years later, could the very thing that broke their hearts be the thing that brings them back together? Alien secrets could mean a miracle and a happy ending.

Based off of the musical, "Bright Star," by Steve Martin and Edie Brickell. Every chapter is based off of a song from the musical. It's very Malex!

[ub-sessed]

In which Michael and Maria figure out more than they were expecting to

Alright folks, here’s a little ficlet for ya, just over 600 words. Implied Maria x Michael, Malex, Rosabel (yes, I’m a multishipper). Totally PG.

“What happened to your hand?”

Maria wouldn’t usually be so blunt, but she was still riding a post-coital high, and, to be honest, a bit of that high she always got from singing in front of an audience. Besides, she was starting to think she could form a real connection with Guerin, even if he was, well, Guerin. She remembered that he used to play guitar too, when his left hand still worked.

Michael was silent long enough that Maria finally snapped out of her reverie and noticed that Michael’s face had turned to stone.

“I’m sorry, you don’t need to --”

“Jesse Manes.”

“Jesse Manes?! Why --?” But Maria’s usually finely tuned intuition (surely it was nothing more than that, just a way to make an extra ten dollars here and there) kicked back in, and the whole story was suddenly clear before her. “Oh my god. You’re the mystery boy. From the museum.”

“How do you know about that?”

“That’s the night -- That’s the night you broke your hand. You and Alex --”

Michael stared darkly at his hand, all traces of the recent joy on his face gone.

Maria could feel everything that had been taken from Alex and Guerin. “That sick bastard.” He had no right. He had no --

Suddenly it occurred to her to ask: “Wait, are you guys still…? Do you still…?”

Michael laughed. “Hell no. Alex is an airman. He can’t be seen with a lowlife like me!”

Guerin’s bitter, twisted smile was reassuringly familiar, but the cynicism spoke clearly of a recent pain. Even someone less intuitive than Maria would have been able to tell that at least some of Alex and Guerin’s history was a lot more recent than high school.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just slept with Alex’s boyfriend! He’s one of my best friends! How could --?”

“I am not Alex’s boyfriend. I am just some guy he likes to fuck until he remembers there’s a chance that somebody might find out about me.”

But Maria was already sitting up, pulling the covers over her chest. “No. No, you are more than that --"

“He has made it abundantly clear that I’m not good enough for him. I don’t need that shit in my life.”

"No, Guerin, I saw him, that night. I know Alex. I just didn’t know it was you! Why didn’t he tell me --?”

“You’re really gonna bail just because I’ve slept with one of your friends? I’ve slept with lots of your friends! Hell, if this freaks you out, you would definitely not be able to handle all the other shit.”

“What do you mean? What other shit?”

“Look around, Maria! ‘Sex in a truck, smells like a river, never introduce him to your momma’? I’m not a good guy.”

Maria softened and lay down again. “I’m sorry, Guer. I just… it caught me off guard. You’re right.”

Michael sighed grimly. “For once… I’d just like to be with someone who’s not ashamed of me.”

A chill crawled over Maria. Michael noticed. “What now?”

“That’s what Rosa said.”

It was Michael’s turn to sit up. “That’s what Rosa said when?”

“Just a couple days before she died.” Guerin was obviously urgently interested in what Maria had so say, so she continued. “She was seeing somebody new. She wouldn’t tell me who, but I guess… they were acting weird, like pretending not to know her when they were in front of other people, and then asking her to run away with them. I never figured out who it was, but… I think it was a girl.”

[planetsam]

S2 prompt if you ever feel so inspired: Michael Sanders AU. Walt spends the time between asking to adopt Michael and when Michael returns to Roswell getting his life cleaned up. Not being able to help Michael was the shake up he needed. When Michael returns to Roswell Walt is able to become a foster parent. Gruff!Dad Walt is able to eventually adopt Michael. Michael learns about his mom from Walt much earlier and when Caulfield comes around they are more prepared and get Nora out safely.

Michael’s perched on the bed and all Walt can think about is how he looks like a bird about to take flight.

He’s been told a messed up story about the kid and though he’s grateful for him to be out of those hell places, there’s a difference between knowing a thing’s going to be hard and having it sitting perched on a makeshift bed in a makeshift bedroom clocking the exits. Michael’s eyes are focused on him even before he knocks on the wall to ask for entry. Michael says nothing and Walt fights the urge to smack his head against the wall. He’s lost his damn mind doing this.

“You gonna let me come in or should I try again later?” He asks and Michael flinches.

“It’s your house,” he says.

“And it’s your room,” Walt reminds him. Michael looks down and mumbles something along the lines of thank you and it makes Walt want to build a time machine, go back and kick his own ass until he gets his shit together a lot sooner, “you don’t gotta thank me.”

“Sorry,” Michael mutters.

“You don’t gotta apologize either!” He winces at the own exasperation in his voice. This kid needs professional help and neither of them is in a position to do that. Michael seems to curl in on himself, his eyes squeezing shut and his fingers clenching on the bed sheet, “be careful of your—“

“I need to get some air,” Michael says and scrambles to his feet.

“Don’t—“

“Excuse me.”

Michael doesn’t make it an option as he barrels past him and scrambles out. Walt hears something thud and fights the urge to reach for the bottle. He can tell why someone would think the things that are in Michael’s too thick file. Demons are a easier sell pretty much anywhere that isn’t here.  Walt scrubs his face and looks over at the shape watching from the couch. The damn dog is more judgmental than the people of the town but she helps.

“Well don’t get up and help or anything,” he says and goes after him.

Michael’s standing a few feet away breathing hard. Walt walks past him and looks at the other side of the car, the one that was facing the house. He sighs at the massive dent in it and looks back at Michael who looks like he’s going to be sick. At first Walt thinks it’s with fear, but then he doubles over and spews the contents of his stomach. No-one’s puked here since he went through withdrawal but he supposes that’s as good a run as he’ll ever get. He waits for Michael to be done and collect himself before he straightens up.

“Can you pop it back out?” He asks. Michael goes pale, “the dent, can you pop it back out?” He asks.

“I didn’t do that,” Michael blurts out.

“I’m not deaf,” Walt snaps, “or as stupid as your other fosters,” Michael looks stunned and it’s an odd look for such a young kid, “and I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s clear Michael doesn’t believe him and Walt can’t say he blames him. The world’s a messed up place, he figures he knows that better than most people. He was probably younger than Michael when he learned it, but Walt’s not one to compare. No-one should be in that fucked up contest. Walt sighs and scrubs his face and pushes the itch for a bottle out of his head.

“I can help you fix the car,” Michael says abruptly, “I’m good with my hands.”

Briefly Walt wonders if the feeling of ‘this is never going to work’ is ever going to go away. Maybe it’s just part of being a parent. Walt remembers that he never wanted kids for a damn good reason. But one’s here and he’s gonna have to deal with it.

“Let’s go inside,” he says.

“You don’t have to call them,” Michael volunteers abruptly, “I didn’t mean to lie—“ he freezes as the sound of groaning metal echoes, “that’s not me!”

“Would you stop lying long enough to catch your breath? I know damn well it’s you,” Walt says, “why the hell else do you think we’re in a junkyard?”

Michael’s so surprised that whatever he’s doing cuts off and Walt hears something snap. He looks over to see one of the racks has cracked and watches one of the cars slide off and land on it’s roof. It looks almost comically like a bug that’s been turned over. Walt’s known for a long time he wasn’t cut out to be a parent to a regular kid. He’s got no idea what he’s going to do with a god damn alien. He figured this was a good place to start but he wasn’t expecting it to involve so many broken cars from the onset.

“How—“

“I knew your mother,” Walt says, figuring it’s best to rip the bandaids off in one go. Michael sways on his feet, “you gonna be sick again?”

Michael manages a nod before he hurls this time.

It might be the first honest thing he’s said.

Walt supposes it’s as good a start as any.

He steers the boy back inside and gets him into the chair. Nora hops off the couch and trots over, laying her head on his lap. Walt doesn’t have ginger ale but he’s got ginger beer which he guesses will have to do. He sets the can in front of Michael who looks ill at the sight of it.

“What do you need?” Walt asks. 
“Acetone,” Michael says.

“You better not be killing yourself in this house,” Walt mutters, getting the bottle out, “what’s this do for you?” 
“It makes things hurt less,” Michael says.

“Don’t drink too much then,” Walt tells him. Michael takes a few mouthfuls under his watchful gaze and then sets the bottle down. Some of the color has returned to his face. Walt takes the acetone and reminds himself he’s gonna have to lock it up and hope the kid respects him enough to listen, “well you don’t look half dead.”

“Is my mom dead?” Michael asks abruptly. Walt winces at the swerve but Michael’s apparently not done, “when did you see her? Do I look like her? Did she talk about me? Who was she with? Was my dad there? Could she move things with her mind too or did she read thoughts or channel electricity?”
 He cuts himself off breathing hard. It’s the most desperate Walt’s seen the kid since he’s been back. He’s got no business dealing with a desperate kid like this. He can picture his own old man’s reaction. Michael keeps look at him like a starving man and Walt has to remind himself he’s a kid who just found out someone knew his mother.

“I don’t know is the answer to most of that,” Walt says, “I saw her when I was about your age. She wasn’t the worst last thing to see with two eyes,” Michael looks surprised, “she mentioned you. Said you had her whole heart. You do look damn like her,” he leans back, “she said her name was Nora.”

“Did she say what my name was?” Michael asks. Walt shakes his head and Michael looks down, disappointed.

“Michael’s a good name,” he says.

“What about her powers? What could she do?”

“Well I saw her make fields grow,” Walt says. Michael perks up, “and some other things but that was the most impressive,” he looks at the boy, “can you do that?”

“Kinda,” Michael says, “I’m not good at it though, I usually make the planters explode.”

Walt blows out a breath and tries not to think about how this is going south faster than he could have thought.

But they’re here and they’re just going to have to deal with it.

** “This is ridiculous.”

Walt keeps his mouth shut as Jesse Manes checks his watch again. He guesses it was inevitable that the two would go at it eventually. He just prays to every God he knows that Michael didn’t do any of that alien shit. It’s going to be hard enough to explain this to the social worker as it is.

“Have we been called in yet?” Jim Valenti asks as he joins them.

“No,” Jesse says.

Jim nods.

Walt wonders what the hell he’s doing sitting with two people who represent the government. He’s been in trouble with the law enough to not want to be here. He’s also been in trouble enough in his school days to not want to be in there either. But he’ll take the slap on the wrist over the cuffs. When they are motioned in he’s the first up. Michael twists the second he walks in and gives him the barest head-shake. Walt lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. No alien shit then.

“What happened?” He asks.

“Your foster son fought with one student and attacked another,” the principal says.

“Why?”

Michael doesn’t answer.

“I told you—“ Kyle Valenti starts up in a tone that makes Walt want to plug his ears.

“The question wasn’t directed at you,” the principal cuts in, “Mr. Guerin, would you care to explain?”

Michael flinches like he’s the one whose been hit and Walt wishes things were different but he can’t be Michael Sanders if the paperwork doesn’t go through. Kyle looks smug. Alex whose been silent the whole time shifts in his seat. The look his father gives him is eerily familiar to Walt, the urge to grab Michael and get the hell out of there is a strong one. Alex wavers and then looks at the principal.

“His name’s Sanders,” Alex Manes pipes up.

“Not yet,” Kyle says.

“I started the fight,” Alex continues, “I was teasing him because he doesn’t have parents. Kyle got involved because he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“No, I got involved because I don’t want to be in the locker room with someone who likes boys.”

The air vanishes.

Walt’s surprised to see Michael look equal parts devastated and furious. Alex looks angry as well, but anyone can see how hard his father is gripping his shoulder. It’s only Jim Valenti who looks ashamed.

“So it’s Kyle’s fault,” he says.

“Huh?” Kyle whips around.

“It’s his fault, clearly. You going to suspend him?” The principal looks surprised, “I think being off the team for the rest of the year sounds appropriate too.”

“Dad!”

The principal nods slowly. Jim hauls his devastated looking boy out. Alex lets out a sharp breath that Walt might mistake for relief until he sees Jesse’s hand hasn’t moved. Michael has seen it too and though Walt wants to tell him to mind his own business he knows that’s not what’s about to happen.

“I think that’s a fair resolution,” he says and sticks his hand out to Jesse in a sign of friendship. The main claims to be full of honor but it takes him a moment to pry his fingers off, “you boys want to apologize to each other?”

They both mutter sorry and Alex seems hard pressed not to rub his shoulder.

They’re all sent home. In the front seat Michael looks straight ahead. Walt gives him a moment, then a few more. When it’s clear he’s not going to be speaking up, he finally looses whatever patience he has left.

“I’m waiting for a explanation,” he says.

“His family killed my mom,” Michael snaps.

“We don’t know that!” Walt shoots back, “do you think she wants you getting yourself locked up or worse?” Michael looks down, “that wasn’t a rhetorical question!”

“No,” Michael says finally.

“How did Valenti get involved?”

“I was fighting Alex and he tried to back me up. He said because Alex likes boys.”

Walt would normally say that you need backup in life, that Michael shouldn’t let his stubbornness get in the way of that. But he can see how this doesn’t fall under that. He doesn’t like the Manes family on principal, not after the shit they’ve done, but even he’s not stubborn enough to see that Alex is like them. He might one day be, but right now he’s the same kind of prepubescent nightmare Michael is. Walt wonders if that’s a nightmare across all universes or if being in earth has just made things like that for Michael.

“It sounds like you did the right thing,” Walt says, finally catching onto Michael hanging on his every breath.

“You don’t think it’s wrong Alex likes boys?” Michael asks quietly. Walt cringes and Michael’s face falls, “got it.”

“No, you don’t,” Walt says, “I don’t care who you like, I just don’t want to be called into school for you pulling anyone into the bleachers or wherever you kids are making out these days. We have your hearing in a few weeks and we’re on thin ice with the noise complaints as it is.”

It’s nauseating how fast Michael whips to look at him. And how quickly he dives forward to hug him. Walt claps his shoulder as Michael jumps back into his seat. Sure maybe he never counted on raising a kid liking other boys, but he didn’t count on a kid period. And in the face of being an alien, well, Walt’s seen what Max is doing with his blackouts. Michael’s in trouble no matter who he wants to make out with. At least Walt can console himself there’s no risk of a cross species baby. He’s not sure he’s ready to add being a grandpa to his list of jobs.

“How long’ve you known?” Walt asks.

“Always I guess,” Michael says, “it’s like being a—“

“Not on school property,” Walt cuts in sharply.

That’s the last thing they needed added to this mess. There’s only one thing that could make it worse. 
Thankfully he and the Manes boy hate each other.

** Michael staggers in and Walt sighs deeply.

He’s done his best to keep liquor out of the house, for one he’s not strong enough to deal with that and two Michael’s got enough reason to drink. He doesn’t need to throw temptation in his face. Michael’s grown up into a good man, a man Walt’s damn proud of. He hasn’t done any of the stupid shit the other seniors are doing. Walt knows he’s a good man, he also knows how one drunken night can lead to a lifetime of regrets.

“You know I’ve got half a mind to keep you from that and let you feel the hangover,” he says finding Michael fumbling with the medicine cabinet.

“M’not drunk,” Michael slurs out.

“Sure you’re not,” Walt says sarcastically, “come on,” he says, “let me—“

“No!” Michael gasps and Walt suddenly finds he can’t move. Michael doubles over with a sound that goes straight through him, “just gimme a minute.”

“Okay, okay,” Walt says, “take your time. Breathe.”

Michael sucks in air and sobs on the exhale. Something in Walt aches to comfort him but he’s being held back. It’s been a damn long time since Michael lost control of his powers like this. Walt waits and after a long time he finds he can move. He forces himself to approach carefully, though he doesn’t think Michael will hurt him. He just doesn’t want him to stop him either. He crouches down on Michael’s level where he can see he’s shining with sweat, snot and tears. Like the first night he came. Walt doesn’t ask anything stupid like what’s wrong, he can see the way Michael’s got his hand clenched to his chest.

“Jesus,” he says and Michael pulls it closer with a whimper, “easy, easy,” Walt says. Comforting hasn’t ever been his forte. He settles his hand on Michael’s shoulder and eases him down to sit on the floor. He crouches in front of him, “let me see,” Michael shakes his head, “come on, give it here.”

Michael sobs as he supports his hand and eases it away from his chest. Walt pulls back the makeshift bandage. His hand is a mess of torn and twisted skin and misshapen bones. It looks bad. Walt can’t imagine how it must feel. Michael hasn’t offered any bullshit like it’s an accident. So Walt has nothing to go on but that it isn’t.

“We need to call your brother,” he says. 
“No,” Michael tells him.

“Why the hell not?” Walt questions.

“This can’t just vanish,” he says, dragging in a lungful of air, “they’ll know.”

“I don’t give a damn—“

“Jesse Manes did it,” Michael says and Walt finds he can’t breathe, “he did it because I got between him and Alex.”

“Why would you do a stupid thing like that?” Walt demands, “Manes boys are trouble, you know that. I thought you and Alex hated each other.”

Michael’s throat bobs.

There’s a frantic knock on the door. Michael tries to push himself up so fast he nearly falls over. Walt stops him from trying to scramble up and helps him brace his hand on his other one. He gets to his feet and gives Michael a warning look before he goes to the door. For a moment he lets himself be stupid and say that it’s going to be Max here or Isobel, someone who can actually help. But the stupidity only lasts as long as it takes him to look through the peephole.

“What do you want?” He questions sharply.

Despite having been frantically knocking on his door a moment earlier, Alex jumps. Walt can’t say he likes Alex, the boy seems to put sticking out like a sore thumb above everything else. Like survival. But he can’t say he hates him either and there are definitely teenagers he hates. Alex sneaking around with his son though, that’s a big mark against him. The worry on his face lessens that mark only slightly.

“Sorry to bother you so late, is Michael home?”

“He’s home alright, you wanna tell me what happened to his hand before I press charges?”

Alex pales but his jaw clenches and he meets Walt’s eye. Which is more than Walt would’ve expected from the boy whose been sneaking around with his son.

“I can tell you but pressing charges isn’t going to do any good,” Alex says, “Sheriff Valenti won’t do it.”

“He will if he knows what’s good for him,” Walt snaps.

“He doesn’t,” Alex replies. He looks anxiously over Walt’s shoulder and even under the mess on his face, he fucking lights up.

“I told you to stay put,” Walt says, turning around to see Michael leaning against the wall. He looks back at Alex who looks maybe five seconds from charging through his front door if he doesn’t move aside, “oh now you two don’t want to sneak around?” He looks between the two of them, “well does Romeo or Juliet want to answer me?”

“I didn’t want my father finding out,” Alex says. He looks at Michael’s hand, “I told him not to tell you.”

“Jesus,” Walt repeats.

He’s not a praying man but he’s going to need all the strength he can get if these two are planning on continuously sacrificing themselves for each other. One of them is going to do something stupid if he doesn’t move and he’d rather not deal with the telekinesis part of that. So he steps aside and nods Alex in. Alex scrambles forward so fast they nearly add another injury to the growing tally. Michael sinks down with a pained sound as Alex falls to his knees, his hands fluttering over Michael like he doesn’t know where to touch him. Michael tries to smile up at him but winds up folding over his hand. Alex pulls him close and even though it’s his own damn house, Walt turns away to give them a moment.

Thankfully he hears the car.

He shuts the door.

“You boys better get upstairs,” he says, “I think your dad’s here.” It’s hard to say who goes paler, “upstairs,” he repeats.

“I should—“ Alex starts.

“I wasn’t asking,” Walt says, “be glad I’m letting in you in his room at all after this,” he adds, helping get Michael to his feet, “and keep the door open.”

He takes the eye patch off. When he opens the door and Jesse goes a shade paler at the sight of that mess, he’s glad he did. It takes him a moment to recover and Walt wonders if he knows how involved his family is. He supposes that’s a question for another day. 
“Is my son here?” Jesse asks.

“Why would your son be here?” Walt counters, “did something happen?”

Jesse’s got some major balls on him to stand there.

“My son is involved with your—“ he begins

“Let me help you out, my son,” Walt says. Jesse presses his lips together, “don’t tell me you have as big a problem with adoption as you do with your son liking boys,” he says.

“You’re noble looking after him,” Jesse says.

“I’m not,” Walt shoots back, “I’m keeping a promise to a friend,” Jesse’s eyes narrow. Walt figures if he’s in for a penny, he’s in for a pound, “you’re damn lucky my boy’s a better man than the ones they produce here.”

“I’d watch your tone,” Jesse starts.

“I’d get the hell off my property,” Walt says.

Jesse holds his gaze for a moment longer but Walt’s faced down worse than some insane army man on a power trip. He’s sure as hell not folding. Not once Michael���s been hurt. Jesse at least seems to have enough sense to know Walt’s insane enough to take him on. Hell Walt’ll be insane if that’s what it takes. Jesse glances up and Walt ignores it. Michael’s barely standing and he sure as hell ain’t stupid enough to be by the window.

“If he comes by tell him I’m looking for him.”

“Do I look like a damn answering machine?”

It’s not easy to turn his back on a man he knows would shoot him, but for Michael he does and gets back into the house, making sure to slam the door behind him. He can’t tell if his heart is racing because of that, because Michael is hurt or because Michael’s got the boy he’s been sneaking around with in his room. He figures one thing at a time and goes for the first aide kit. Only to find it’s gone.

The door’s not closed all the way—because Michael has yet to meet a rule he doesn’t like to skirt. But it’s closed enough that he can peer inside quietly. Alex is splinting Michael’s hand. Michael barley lets him see him cry but both of them are snot nosed and teary, though Alex seems to have his wits about him. It’s not the worst splinting Walt’s ever seen. It’s on his lips to announce that Alex is sleeping in there over his dead body, but Michael’s laying his head on Alex’s lap and Alex’s fingers are moving through his curls.

He’s sleeping there for one night and one night only.

** “Is Michael here?”

Walt turns to look at Alex. It’s almost normal now to see him without his makeup and piercings, though Walt’s not sure he’ll ever get the image of him shipping off and looking out the window for a boy who wasn’t there out of his head. He’d ripped into Michael so badly that the boy had stopped whatever spiral he was on. College hadn’t been his favorite time but at least he could say he got his boy through that. Even if he’d continued to live at home. Walt’s not about to take that from him.

“No,” he says, “can I help you with something?”

Alex stares at him long and hard like he’s trying to read Walt’s mind or find out his secrets. He looks like he’s in shock, not an easy thing for someone whose been through the shit that Alex has been through. Walt sighs.

“Let me guess: you know.”

Alex looks so relieved that Walt knows his guess was right. Michael’s an adult. Hell Liz knows already. So it’s not like this is the first person to find out. But Alex is a Manes who looks uncomfortably like his father when he’s in his uniform. But Walt knows that a part of him still loves his boy. The fact that he’s not here with a team of scientists is proof enough of that.

“Do you—“

“Of course I know,” Walt says, “he’s my boy,” he drops his tools, “I knew his mom too,” Alex’s brow furrows, “oh you don’t know about that?” He shakes his head, “your family goes way back with his.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” Walt looks over as Michael pulls into the driveway. He gets out of the car and stops dead when he sees Alex standing there staring at him, “you’d better come over here,” Walt says.

“I thought we were avoiding each other,” he says. Alex’s throat bobs before he straightens up.

They’re both adults, entitled to make their own mistakes. But Walt’s not sure he’s got it in him to watch them act like fools for another second. It’s been ten years of this pining, dancing around each other bullshit. Even now that they’re in the same place, neither seems to be able to get out of each other’s way long enough to do something productive. Even just standing next to each other they’re both struggling to be taller, though they damn well know Alex has an extra inch on Michael.

“Can we stop the dick swinging contest,” Walt says, “you both are ridiculous,” he looks between them, “well?” He prods Alex.

“I know,” Alex says.

“Know what?” Michael jabs. Walt swears he raised a smarter child. Alex looks annoyed, “what do you know?”

“He knows you’re an alien,” Walt says. Both whip to look at him, “I’m not standing here watching you two be idiots,” he says.

“Could you go inside then?” Michael asks. Walt raises his eyebrows, “please?”

He figures he can give them a moment before they need anything filled in. But if they start making out in his yard he’s going to ground them both. How that will work, he doesn’t know, but he figures it’s a start. There’s no making out, there’s just some arguing and a lot of gesturing from Michael. Alex eventually sits down because he’s still getting used to his missing leg. Michael paces like a wild animal. Walt watches and wonders if parents of straight human children have to go through shit like this. When they come inside neither of them is moving slowly or has shut up. What he isn’t expecting is for Alex to stay in the doorway and Michael to go upstairs and return with a bag.

“There’s an alien prison we’re going on a rescue mission,” Michael says.

“Bye Mr. Sanders.”

They’re both gone just like that.

It’s a full day before they pull up and Walt has decided he’s going to murder both of them so it’s a moot point. But he wants an explanation first. Just so he doesn’t have to have any guilt on his conscience when it comes to it. He’s fully ready for the murder too when Kyle ‘no longer an asshole’ Valenti gets out and jogs around to the passenger side. He’s not ready to see Michael helping out an old woman. She’s old and bald and wearing rags, but he’d know her anywhere. When she looks at him, she’s so surprised she nearly faints. But Michael keeps her upright.

“Walt Sanders,” she rasps, “you’ve gotten tall.”

Funny because he doesn’t feel tall.

Especially when she takes his hand.

“Hi Miss Nora,” he says.

“I guess I have two dance partners now.”

Walt looks over his shoulder as Alex gets out of the car. Even though he’s holding his mom’s hand, Michael is already watching him. Miss Nora sees it too. She squeezes his hand to get his attention and Walt looks at her. He has no idea if this is a thing where she comes from, but there’s nothing but soft pride in her eyes when she looks at Alex and Michael. And nothing but sharp humor when she looks at him.

“Well maybe just the one,” she says, “but I think you’ll do.”