#you have your orders soldier ( alex shepherd )

[imaginedreamwrite]

Happier Than Ever

Part 4: Fate Thou Art Twisted

“My base is your base.” The words were reminiscent of what Colonel Vargas had said before, when Ghost mentioned Commander Graves of the Shadows assisting in finding Hassan.

The join task force would hunt Hassan down in the hills he was hiding in, leaving no single crevice in that hideout uncovered. There was no probability of failing, this mission had to be a success, and whatever missiles Hassan had, needed to be found.

With the weight of more than just American lives on the line, the task given by General Shepherd and Laswell couldn’t afford any small measure of force. There would have to be an unseemly pressure put on Hassan and the hills he was hiding in.

“You good for this?” Soap had questioned you again, as if you had the opportunity to back down, as if you could change your mind and head back to the US. “You’re heading into gunfire.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your heart was racing, and dread had settled in your stomach. It was your 4th mission with Ghost & Soap, and you’d yet to gather or steel your nerves. Not like they had, and not how you particularly should have.

You followed Soap & Ghost into the armoury, standing nearby as they grabbed ammunition and assault rifles, checking the weapons over. There was no shortage of artillery here, heavy and handheld weapons to kill or disarm, another necessary adage to the mission.

While you were a medic, and you had completed your nursing degree, you weren’t necessarily a soldier. You had gone through your 6 weeks basic training, you had learned to survive in a war zone, as best as Alex Keller could teach you.

You had gone through your crash courses, you had gone through as much training to solidify your skills as a combat medic. Pushing yourself through every necessary test to get your rank as private, you hadn’t faltered.

You completed your training, but you were not like Soap & Ghost. You wanted to put your focus on keeping them alive, on keeping them breathing.

“Take the damn gun.” A smaller rifle was handed to you, an order from Ghost.

As your CO, he had been responsible for yourself and Soap, and any fatalities were purely his responsibility. “And keep your head on straight.”

“An XM7,” Soap had spoken over Ghost, tapping the barrel of the gun with his fingers, twice, and then looked over his shoulder, “sergeant Parra is taking you to the med-bay. Get whatever supplies you need, we leave in 10.”

He already had his gear on, with the Kevlar bulletproof vest that bared the flag of his country, his rank, and the emblem belonging to Los Vaqueros. His vest was similar to Ghost & Soap’s, the indicators that would lead anyone to know that they were soldiers.

Unlike the soldiers' bulletproof vests, your tactical vest was emboldened with MEDIC, in English, in bright white letters at the front, with MÉDICO, in Spanish, below.

As on the front, there were the same distinguishing patches on the back of your vest, accompanied by a caduceus, a snake, and a pair of wings to symbolize your status as a healer rather than a fighter. A commonality among the three of you was the flag from your countries, a patch that identified just how international this mission was.

“Leave in ten.” You nodded your head, acknowledging the order Ghost had given you, and then you stepped toward Sergeant Major Parra.

He was waiting for you, and had reviewed you once, before he directed his attention behind him with a nod of his head.

When you first approached, you noticed his hands were held behind his back, though when he began walking with you, they dropped to his sides. As you walked with relative silence between you, you glanced over at him, rather of the identifying soulmate mark on his wrists.

One, you noted, was already emboldened and lined with black. One of the phrases was securely etched into his skin, as usual with marks like that, meaning he had found one; however, there was another out there.

You diverted your attention once you had reached the doors of the med-bay. The small clinic was dark upon your approach, something that had been rectified when you’d stepped inside. The automatic lights turned on, and you were greeted with shelves upon shelves of medical equipment.

“Take what you need.” Rudy Parra had leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, waiting for you to gather some things.

“Yes sir.” You stepped toward one shelf, looking over the different kinds of bandages and gauze there was, and then further to the threads for stitching.

You grabbed what supplies you hadn’t already had, mostly newer gauze and bandages, some cold compresses and extra thread, before you took a side-eye toward the narcan. You reached for the glass vial, looking over the label before you closed your fingers around the bottle and shoved it into your bag.

“You don’t seem like the type to be in a fight like this,” Rudy’s voice had caught you off guard, and you’d looked over your shoulder toward him.

“I’ve got more interest in being a medic, or combat nurse, than I do physically being caught in gunfire. But… I’ve always wanted to be in medicine, I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.” You moved down the shelves and then hummed under your breath.

“Looking for something?” His accent was light, his voice was relatively calm as he stepped further into the med-bay, closer to you.

“Necesito un frasco de morfina.” It was just natural for you to ask in Spanish, given that he was a native-born Spanish speaker, and you’d never questioned yourself until Rudy looked at it with furrowed brows.

“Hablas español?” He reached above you, grabbing a few glass vials of the drug you were looking for, handing them down to you.

“Yeah, I’m… I wouldn’t say I’d be as fluent as someone who was born in Mexico, but I learned Spanish from the time I was 7 to 18.” You thanked him and placed the vials into your bag, feeling at odds with yourself for letting your second language slip.

“Es necesario en los Estados Unidos, no?” He didn’t question why you weren’t forthright with your ability to speak Spanish, rather, he’d questioned you about something related.

“The United States has a lot of Spanish speakers in the country. I don’t know if it's mandatory to learn it in school in every district, county or state, but in my school it was.” You took another look around the med-bay, double-checking your supplies and what you’d taken, before you zipped the top.

“Tu español es muy bueno.” Rudy held the door open for you when you finished.

“Gracias.” You stepped by him as he allowed you to step out first. It was while you were stepping by him that you tilted your head, eyeing the edges of his second soulmate mark.

The words were lined with an edge faint black, as if he had come in proximity to his soulmate, but the words themselves weren’t spoken. They were in Spanish, and while you had said the words in your head, you whispered them under your breath.

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez?” You whispered faintly under your breath, almost entirely incomprehensible.

You glanced toward the mark again and then looked away, your eyes drawn toward Soap & Ghost as they stood by the fleet of humvee’s. They were geared up, as usual, bearing weapons that were far more formidable than your own, even though yours had the same potential to maim and kill.

“PT!” Soap called your rank from across the open space, directing you toward a series of vehicles parked and waiting. “Move your ass!”

“Yes sir!” You walked directly to your CO’s, your gun by your side and ammo stashed in the pockets of your tactical vest.

There was a certain amount of tension in the base that was directly tied to the mission to find Hassan. It was a tension that overshadowed any previous anxiety you had, with the knowledge that this could be someone’s last day breathing.

This could be your last day breathing.

“Get your head screwed on right, lass. This could get ugly.” Upon approaching Soap, he motioned with a single nod to get into the vehicle beside Ghost, the position open for you.

You’d tossed your bag to the floor of the humvee and climbed inside, taking your place beside Ghost, while another soldier had taken his place to the right of you.

Ten minutes had been enough time for you to grab what you needed, to secure necessary and life-saving tools to keep them safe. It was also enough time for you to reveal yourself as someone who could not only understand Spanish but speak it fluently enough to carry a conversation.

You hadn’t been aware of Soap or Ghost wanting you to keep your ability to speak Spanish a secret forever. Nevertheless, there was a certain expectation that you’d act as their translator, and it was impossible to do so without someone, at some point, knowing you were bilingual.

“You good, kid?” Soap turned in the front passenger seat, looking back at you as Colonel Vargas drove. “You ready for this?”

“You’re three years older than me, if you call me kid, can I call you senile?” Your back and forth with Soap was ordinary for the two of you.

It was partially due to his boyish charm that never faded, and your relationship that was like brother and sister. You were friends, but it also felt like you were family.

Your comment drew a cold response from Ghost, a side-eye that you had grown used to when in his company. At this point, you hadn’t even known if he was aware of what he was doing, or if it was some natural reaction to the people around him.

However, if Ghost had given you a dirty look, then Soap was almost gleeful about the comment.

He had laughed, as he usually did, and shook his head, flipping you off over his shoulder. He was eased, far more than you were, yet not as calculated as Ghost was at the moment. He was the neutral point between the two of you, the balance between your anxiety laced anticipation and Ghost’s cold composure.

The drive away from the compound and base was quick. The trip toward the hills outside the city, that had been overrun by the Cartel and had been the hiding place of Hassan, had taken less than twenty minutes. The overhanging cliff side and rolling hills had come upon you, with a single road in and out of the encompassing stronghold.

As the vehicles had come to a stop, Colonel Vargas voice came through the earpiece in your right ear, the order firm. “Team leaders circle up on me. Weapons hot Vaqueros. Let’s move.”

You had followed Ghost out of the humvee, your medical bag and supplied thrown across your shoulder to drape on your hip. The XM7 rifle was heavier than you anticipated now that you were on the cusp of the first assault to find Hassan.

“You’re with me, private.” Ghost addressed with his usual calculated and neutral tone, an order that you couldn’t disregard.

You regarded his order with a nod of your head, and adjusted your grip on your rifle. You’d been placed here as a medic and your job was to keep them alive, you had the tools and the training to save their lives to the best of your ability in the field.

You had 6 weeks of basic training, you had been taught how to handle weapons. Alex Keller had taught you everything he could in six weeks to prepare yourself for missions like this. It was always a possibility that you would have to lean more into the military training rather than medical, and this was one of the moments you had been trained for.

Regardless of whether you wanted to classify yourself as a soldier or not, you were going to have to defend yourself if someone had come upon you without being stopped by the soldiers that had come before you.

“Where are they holding Hassan?” Soap approached Alejandro and Rudy, and almost immediately got an answer.

“White two-story building. Back of town.” Alejandro raised his hand, directing Soap’s attention to the village tucked behind 7 foot white sun-stained walls.

With the direction given, the soldiers had begun to move, their weapons raised and their guards up. They approached the first gate that kept the village contained, a thick wooden double set of doors that had remained barricaded.

“Todos los vencedores en espera.” Alejandro had spoken into the comm system, his voice echoing in your head as you approached the last soldier, hanging behind like you had usually done.

“Tres, dos, uno...ejecutar.... ejecutar!” The order was given, and the doors had been kicked open, the soldiers pouring into the compound.

A sense of resolve had taken over every sense you had, and your instincts lead you. You tuned out the world, centred your mind, and followed Ghost and Soap as they stormed the abandoned town like planned.

The houses were empty and used as storehouses or labs for whatever the cartel wanted. The civilians had fled the town, no safety within the walls of the village that was now taken over by the Las Almas Cartel.

“Down! Get down!” The first rounds of gunfire erupted, and you ducked behind cover as commanded, the tang of smoke from the ammunition spent stinging your nose.

This, all this around you, was the shadowy underbelly of the beautiful city.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

You kept yourself quiet, studious as you dug through your bag and compartmentalized the hours between hitting the ground in Las Almas, and the moment you were in now. The gunfire in the abandoned village had resulted in finding out that Hassan had been there in the hideout, until he was moved.

Further up the river and in a secondary hideout is where they had found him hiding, with the assistance of Commander Graves and the Shadow Company. The joint Taskforce had succeeded in securing the terrorist to be questioned; however, there was little to be said about the methods of interrogation he may be hit with.

You had done the task given to you, you had succeeded being a combat nurse after another gunfight. Bullets were removed, gashes and wounds were secured and cleaned, and no one had lost their lives. It was a “success” by the standard; however, there was more to this task than anyone had even known.

You, as you sat on the sidelines and dug through your bag, had rattled nerves. It wasn’t just due to the gunfight you’d survived, it wasn’t just a circumstantial effect of patching up soldiers in the field.

No, this was something entirely different. And when all eyes were off you, you looked at your arms and felt your chest constrict.

“Maldito cabrón,” had been harshly yelled through the gunfire by the leader of Los Vaqueros, a fact that hadn’t hit you until you had a moment to think.

“Maldito hijo de puta,” had come through the communication system, something spoken by a voice you thought was Rudy Parra’s.

Both men, both Mexican special forces officers, had spoken the keywords to solidify themselves as your soulmates. And those key identifying words were ensconced in thick black lines, emboldened and complete. It was a moment that was life altering, coming at the worst possible time for you, and for them.

Still, you remained quiet about this revelation, and you distracted yourself by paying attention to the brief interrogation of Hassan, and the sound of his feet being dragged across the gravel. The only light had come from the yellow hued headlights of the truck and humvee that were driven here, one of which was Hassan’s escort.

“On your knees.” Soap had grabbed Hassan’s right arm, escorting him to the focal point before a camera as Alejandro removed his hood.

“Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves crouched under in front of a truck, adjusting the angle to get Hassan completely unveiled by the camera.

“Crystal.” General Shepherds voice echoed through the comm, and you leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, hands tucked under your chin.

“All set.” Laswell was the next to speak, the next to address in this interrogation effort, while Hassan was kept hostage.

“Alright. We are live, folks.” Commander Graves stood straight and walked toward Hassan, almost arrogantly, before stopping in front of him.

You were aware of Ghost’s position near the back of the truck, a position he took as a guard in case Hassan decided to bolt. Soap and Alejandro were standing behind Hassan, far enough away not to distort any recognition tactics.

“You speak Arabic?” Hassan’s hands were held behind his back, a set of stiff cuffs keeping him bound.

“No.” Graves stopped in front of Hassan, hands on his hips and a look of compressed disapproval on his face.

“Farsi?” Hassan’s lips began to form a smirk, another arrogant expression that was almost fitting for the mad bastard.

“No.” Graves replied with annoyance, and as he did, you could hear howling coyotes and the noises of nature at night in the background.

It was another reminder that although beautiful, there was more wilderness to this place than you realized.

“Of course not. Then I’ll speak your bastardized Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” He looked around at you all, that same cocky half-smirk on his face, even as Graves stepped closer.

“Ahh, see...we’re getting off to a bad start, Hassan.” Graves, ever disappointed, kicked some gravel toward Hassan and shook his head.

“You’re talking to a Quds Force officer.”

“You're the commander of a foreign terror organization.” Graves continued the interrogation, a sight that you had briefly tuned out when you looked back at your wrists, and the soulmate identifying words that had now become a reality.

Fate had decided that it was time for you all to be intertwined. Fate, the fickle bitch, was not going to wait any longer and this was the time for you three to come together.

Regardless of circumstances or opportune timing.

Wildlife and coyotes yipped again, signalling more scurrying from the distance as the night carried on. You had lifted your head, directing your attention from the soulmate marks to the man being questioned. The terrorist still on his knees while Soap and Alejandro were nearby.

“I’m a hostage here, this is illegal.”

“You’re a prisoner of war.” Alejandro’s accent and husky voice had drawn your attention to the fearless leader, and dull heat boiled in your stomach as the recognition re-centred itself.

“Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws. These men and their commanders are the lawbreakers.” He pulled against Alejandro’s hand, tugging twice before he was settled back into a place of submission at the colonels hands.

“You and your beloved general Ghorbani broke every—“ Soap had spoken, and a physical and verbal reaction from Hassan had made both men nearly lose their hold on him.

Hassan had stood with rage, he spoke with fury as he cut Soap off. “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

“You executed him, and you will pay for your crimes—“ Hassan had looked at Soap, at all of you, like you were the scum of the earth.

You averted your eyes and shifted positions where you sat, just as heat blistered your stomach from the inside out. It was a visceral reaction to the settling bond that had been melded. Nothing more complicated than breathing, it was almost as natural.

The curse words in Spanish, inked on your skin as a gift from Fate, had now been completely visible and strengthened after being spoken. You wondered if you had managed to say the trigger words for them. If you’d managed to give them what they needed to feel this same heat.

“—without proof, we need to turn him loose, see where he leads.” Shepherd spoke again, a kind of finality in his tone.

“He’s right here, you can’t be serious.” Soap had taken an approach you knew was palatable, one that even you had felt.

If they let him go, would they find him again?

“Did we get anything from his phone?” Ghost spoke after looking down at the phone in his hands and then glancing toward the camera.

Laswell had remained silent for a single moment before she replied with something good, something minutely hopeful. “Affirmative. We got a hit.”

“Good, now take him back and let him go.” Shepherds order was forcibly accepted, and with a nod of his head, Ghost had signalled to Alejandro.

The bag was pulled, with force, over Hassan’s head and the terrorist was yanked to his feet. “Hasta el culo. vamos.”

He was being led away by Alejandro, the interrogation over. With this whole incident wrapped up open-ended, you had also risen to your feet. You yanked your medic bag up from the gravel road and slung the strap over your shoulder, feeling the thud against your hip.

“You really have to let him go?” You questioned Ghost, glancing slowly from Soap to himself, stepping toward the vehicle. “That’s bullshit.”

“That’s an order.” Ghost spoke plainly, matter-of-factly, tugging on the door handle to the truck. “Get your ass inside.”

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez.” You muttered under your breath as you got into the truck, sliding to the rear driver's side.

“English, L/N.” Ghost took the rear passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

“Everything can be airdropped at least once.”

[pastelwitchling]

I love the way you write Michael so much

He's protective and jealous and possessive but he's not controlling

They're codependent but not in a toxic way

Like you write a real relationship not some 2 dimensional crap

Kind of a prompt? I loved your one shot that was Alex being bait for a the military guy, but Michael and alex WERENT together yet. It would be so cool to see your take on a similar situation but now they're married, bonus if Kyle is also overprotective and just as mad as Michael

@brittz-2123

***

                “No,” Michael demanded. “No way.”

                “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Kyle groaned, arms crossed, “but I agree with Guerin.”

                “Told you they’d love it,” Alex said dryly from where he was bent over a table, studying something on his laptop screen.

                “Alex, no,” Michael argued. “We’re not using you as bait for some Project Shepherd military freak.”

                “Besides,” Kyle chimed in, “you destroyed their entire underground op years ago, what’s one stray soldier going to do?”

                “Plenty,” Eduardo sighed, standing at Alex’s side, his eyes also narrowed at the screen. “Project Shepherd’s entire objective was to destroy the alien race from the inside. One wave is all it takes to start a flood.”

                “Fine,” Michael growled, “whatever, but why does Alex have to go?”

                “Because I’m the only one they’ll trust,” Alex said, voice frighteningly hollow and eyes even more so as he said it. “Word might’ve gotten around that Gregory was the one who shot dad, Clay’s off the grid as usual, and Flint’s just starting to get his head on straight, so I don’t want him near this.” He met Michael’s gaze, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I call myself.” He looked down again as his smile dimmed. “I’m still a Manes. Nothing’s changed.”

                Michael clenched his jaw. He hated this. He hated that Alex sounded so empty, like he knew that the Manes family name would follow him around forever and was resigned to the burden. He hated it worse that he couldn’t do anything about it. No matter how tightly he held onto Alex, however many kisses he pressed into his skin, how fiercely he promised him he loved him—especially on Alex’s worse days—Jesse Manes’s legacy kept following him around.

                Even when he was dead, the bastard was still giving his son orders.

                “That’s not true,” he said, and came around the table to grip Alex’s shoulders. “Everything’s changed, Private. For one thing, you’re not fighting this damn battle alone anymore. I’m right here, every step of the way. You’re not doing it alone, Alex.”

                Alex’s expression softened, and he took hold of Michael’s wrist. It felt like a reassurance to the both of them. Like Alex was trying to calm the distress in Michael’s heart as much as his own. Always protecting him, always looking after him, always there for him.

                That, Michael realized miserably, is what he needs from me right now.

                “Say . . .” he started slowly, “say I’m okay with this. Would we be close by? And I mean seconds away, if that?”

                “We’d be watching him like a hawk,” Eduardo promised, “with men on the ground, too.”

                “Then that’s where I’ll be,” Michael said. “The ground, right next to him.”

                “Guerin,” Alex shook his head, “that’s too dangerous—”

                “I’m invoking my husband card here, Private,” he argued. “We either do this together, or not at all.”

                Alex’s eyes warmed, and he chuckled under his breath. “Michael . . .”

                Kyle sat on the edge of the glass table. “And I’m invoking my best friend card.”

                Michael pointed, mouth already opened to argue, then deciding it wasn’t the time, merely said, “Later.”

                Kyle shrugged, unimpressed. When Michael turned back to Alex, he saw him looking from him to Kyle. He smiled, touched and amused.

                He cleared his throat. “You guys know I can handle it by myself, right?”

                “That’s kind of the point, Manes,” Kyle said with a fond shake of his head, and Michael’s grip tightened on Alex’s shoulders.

                “You’ll never have to again.”

***

Happy Malex Monday ❤

[league-of-sam]

Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

Ghost x Reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Simon 'GHOST' Riley x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

Catching A Ghost: Masterlist

The next few days, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of a special ops mission, that's how perfect life had been. 

Every now and then, Ghost had waited for you in the mornings, allowing you to join him on his runs.

Slowly, he'd been opening up to you a little more. 

Barely, but it was enough for the others to visibly notice a difference between the two of you – especially the few times they'd heard you call him Simon when you thought no one else could hear. 

He'd been helping you train, too, showing you control, but you still continued grinding his gears where you could. You'd not gotten back to wearing your mask just yet, but everyone had been encouraging and supportive.

But now, it was time to move on. 

Hassan was on the move, and Laswell wasted no time in rallying everyone together. There was no say in when she'd arrive with the new troops she'd mentioned, so now, you were all gathered in the HQ. 

Ghost stood over the maps with Price and Gaz. Soap, Alejandro, and Rudy were doing some target practise, leaving you back in the ring with Alex.

"Thanks for coming back in with me, Al." you said as you circled him.

"Not a problem, sweet cheeks," he whimpered, "just don't break my arm again."

"I won't." you giggled.

"So, what's going on with you and the L.T.?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Ghost, very cosy, huh?"

"N-no...I have no idea what you're talking about." You said, raising your fists to hide your face.

"Oh my god, (Y/N) Price, you have a crush on him too!"

"The fuck you mean, 'too'?"

"He likes you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Does too."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

He was about to open his mouth again, and so you rolled your eyes, lunging for the boy. 

He was so distracted from teasing you, he didn't even register your movements until he was on his back, winded. You pinned his arms to the floor, and then your head snapped up as you heard the cheers of your team celebrating your win.

Smiling, you whooped, throwing your arms in the air, giving Alex enough time to push you off him so you laid next to him, laughing.

"Gotcha."

"You cheated."

"Shouldn't have got so distracted taking the piss then, should you?"

Ghost yelled over a quick celebratory compliment, and immediately your face was red. 

"Oh my god, you really do like him."

"Shhhh! You can't tell anyone, I'm not ready, and I don't think he's the type of guy to do feelings."

"Cross my heart." Alex said, making the motion with his fingers.

The door hissed open then, and in came Laswell, with around 20 soldiers on her tail. 

They were wearing a dark uniform with helmets, and a light blue crest sat on their chests. 

Oh no. 

Your assumptions were deemed correct based on the empathetic, pleading look that Laswell threw to you as you stood up, pulling Alex to his feet also.

Price and Ghost noticed too, giving the others a small whistle, beckoning them to gather. Alex stood close behind you, the two of you still in the ring. The others got to the space in front of the ring, just in time for the final person to enter the room.

"Damn, 141! It's a mighty fine base y'all got yourselves here." Just like that, sauntering over to the group, was your ex-fiancé.

"This base is owned by Los Vaqueros." Your brother corrected, his tone harsh and hostile.

"Ah, Captain Price, pleasure to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Aw come on now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"General Shepherd has ordered that the Shadow Company oversee this mission, and frankly, we need their expertise and their equipment." Laswell said before any more could ensue.

"Exactly. From here on out, we're a team. You need us."

"We don't need you." You spoke, deadpan.

"(Y/N)! Baby! There you are, been lookin' for you everywhere, princess. This is where you've been hiding from me?"

He turned to you, sauntering over as if he owned the place. 

You scowled, quickly looking to your team. 

Ghost's eyes were hard, his stare burning holes into the side of Graves' face. Soap was the same, and even Alejandro had scooched that little bit closer to you.

"Wasn't hiding, 'cause if I was, you wouldn't have been able to find me."

"Damn," Graves muttered, looking you up and down, licking his lips, "my little Reaper."

"I'm not yours anymore." You growled in a low voice, stepping forward.

"Stand down, L.T." Price whispered in your direction.

You looked down to where he was gesturing, and you'd barely even noticed that your hand had moved to the concealed dagger strapped to your thigh. 

Clearly, Graves was getting under your skin more than you cared to admit.

"If you say so." Graves waved you off, looking you up and down intensely. "Surprised you're even back in there."

"She's a damn good fighter." Gaz jumped to your defence.

"Better than him?" one of the Shadows said, pointing to Ghost.

No one answered, and Graves let out a cocky chuckle, "Course not, that's the big bad Ghost right there, boys. Legendary."

"Graves." Ghost grunted.

"Pleasure to see you again, lieutenant."

"With all due respect, which is none, watch your mouth, Commander." Alex said, moving to stand level with you, pulling you into his side.

"Keller...wow, should'a known she'd run straight to you." Graves scoffed as he looked at you.

"He's my best friend." you said, spitting venom.

Ghost stepped forward, then, nodding his head to switch places with Alex. 

Every person watched in silence as he stepped into the ring with you, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside.

"Let's go, L.T."

"What?"

"You 'n' me, now, let's go."

"You won't let me win this time?" you whispered, desperate to not be embarrassed again.

"Promise."

"This should be good." One of the Shadow soldiers murmured.

"Alright." You said, and pulled the knife from its hiding place, launching it across the room without looking, "no weapons."

Eyes followed it as it skimmed Graves' face by barely a centimetre, flying through the air to hit the target on the other side of the room, right in the bullseye. Impressed whistles sounded from the Shadow soldiers, while Soap and Alejandro gave Graves a knowing smirk. 

You smirked too, knowing that looked badass.

Graves looked at you, jaw hung wide, "Are you mentally deficient?!" he screeched. "You could've just took my fuckin' head off."

"If I were mentally deficient, I would've missed," you said, squatting down to his level, "Check that out, bullseye."

Snickers rang around the room at your response, the Shadows marvelling at your skill and attitude towards their commander.

With a nod, you and Ghost began sparring, and then it turned into a full on combat session. Punches were thrown and missed on both sides. 

He really wasn't letting you win this time. 

It continued for a good ten minutes, before he managed to get the better of you, getting you into a headlock.

"Put on the mask." He grunted to you, holding your head under his arm.

"What? No!"

"Do it, Price. You're holdin' back. I can take it. Put it on."

With that, he tossed you backwards into the ropes, and you staggered, barely keeping yourself upright. 

Looking around, you took in the faces. 

The Shadows had the same cocky grin that Graves wore, satisfied that you were losing, and anger boiled within you. 

No, he will not have this power over you. 

You are good enough.

Ghost came to you, dragging you up to his chest by your tank top, "Put it on, and show that prick wha' ya made of."

"I can't." you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"You can. Go as hard as you can on me, I'll tap you three times here when it's over." He said, two fingers pressing into the side of your thigh.

"You trust me? After what you saw?"

Ghost looked at you for a moment, before answering, "With my life."

Fighting the smile desperate to break free, you separated, walking to your corner. You made eye contact with Price and Laswell, who nodded to you. 

With a flick of your hair, you placed the mask on your face. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath; now was the time to prove yourself. 

Snapping your eyes open, you turned swiftly, the speed of your movements taking everyone by surprise, and you lunged at Ghost.

Your eyes were wild, your hair was messy, and your forehead was laced with sweat. 

Yet, there you were, straddling Ghost's chest with your forearm pressed harshly into his neck. Your knees held his arms tight to his side, and his hands sat lightly on the side of your thigh.

Pinned.

One tap. Two taps. Three taps.

Release.

You did it. You didn't lose control, and you won. 

You beat the Ghost on your own, and in front of everyone.

"That's fucking it, Reaper! That's my bloody girl!" Price screamed, swinging his fists in the air as Gaz started off the applause.

You looked up, smiling under the mask as you looked to your team. 

They were fucking proud of you, and you were fucking proud of yourself. You threw your arms up, whooping, which only egged the boys on more. 

Looking to your right, you saw Laswell, smiling proudly to you nodding her head, and next to her, Graves pouted. That gave you a rush of confidence and satisfaction; you'd proven him wrong, so wrong.

Distracted, Ghost looked up at you, still held down by you straddling his chest. 

His lips curling upward slightly under his mask, he planted his hands on the ground, pushing himself up. You yelped, tipping backwards, but his hands fastened quickly behind your back, letting your legs only drop as far as his waist. With almighty strength, he now had you both upright.

Your hands gripped his muscled shoulders to keep yourself up, and his large hands were still cupping your thighs, keeping your legs tightly locked over his hips. Your back was arched, chest pressed against chest. 

He held you like it was nothing; you looked fucking tiny clinging onto him, and God, he liked it. 

He groaned quietly, enough for you not to hear him over the sound of your quickened breathing, and set you on your feet gently, stepping back from you.

"Nice work, Reaper." He said, his voice low and husky.

"T-thanks." You stuttered, breath betraying your beating heart.

Ghost nodded, then exited the ring, holding the ropes open for you to follow. A quick glance around the room told you that everyone was just as thrown by Ghost's actions as you were. With a deep exhale and a shake of your head, you followed. 

Waiting to pull you into their arms when you dropped down was Laswell.

"Well done, sweetheart." She whispered into your ear.

"Thanks, ma." You whispered back.

You'd gotten into the habit of jokingly calling her that a few years back, after she completely lost it when you got hurt on a mission. She was just like a mother bear protecting her cub, yelling at anyone who tried to stop her from coming to your aid. Now, she really was like your mother. You and Price had been alone in life for years, so it was nice to have a parental figure again.

"Right, we get it. She's amazing." Graves rolled his eyes. "But we have a mission to get to, in case you forgot."

"You were always one to rush things, weren't you, Phillip?" you said, and it made his soldiers chuckle.

Shooting his team a deadly glance, he stepped close to you, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, princess."

"Mmm, I think you do."

"You never seemed to mind." He bit back. 

Brave.

"Sure... how's Elena, by the way?" you smirked.

Graves' face went a pale white then. 

It was obvious now that he thought he'd gotten away with his infidelity. 

But no – you knew, and you sure as hell weren't letting it go.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he said, changing the subject with an awkward laugh and a rub to the back of his neck.

Yes, let's.

[raichoose-moved-again]

throw hamburger meat into the schsim's maw like you're feeding the dolphins at seaworld

[raichoose-moved]

send me 🎰 and i’ll randomise our muse lists and give the first five as possible connections - Accepting

 @historias-multorum​​ asked: 🎰 

According to my randomizer, some possible connections for our muses would be:

Souichi Tsujii and Sasuke Uchiha

Heather Mason and Tamaki Amaiiki

Nancy and Tsunade Senju

Guzma and Natsuo Todoroki 

Alex Shepherd and Hana Inuzuka 

I have linked their bios above, and I provided their tags below; let me know if any of these muses interest you!

[staticfog]

HELPING MY INJURED MUSE SENTENCE STARTERS - Accepting

@pyrocicle​ asked: { someone in silent hill, probably? cryptid trash child sez henlo } "Stop squirming, I'm trying to help."

"Well, it hurts! Damn it, don’t we have a Health Drink or something - That stuff tastes like shit, but - FUCK -” 

Under normal circumstances, Alex would probably not be swearing as much as he was. Dove was, after all, just trying to help - which was a lot more than he could say for most of the other people he’d met since coming home. Between the Order, the monsters, that guy in the junkyard who worked with the Order, all of his evidently insane old neighbors ...

It was not a fun leave.

“ ... Look, I’m sorry. I’m - really on edge right now. I just want to find my brother and get out of here.” An angry sigh. “I do appreciate you helping me. You probably noticed, but most of the people around here are kind of ... Uh. Violent. Crazy. Fanatical. Take your pick.” 

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

A sequel to "A Forgotten Memory"

Alex is once again tasked to continue his mission in pursuing the threat that had caused hundreds of missing persons turn up dazed the next day. But now he isn't alone, join him along with the elite Task Force 141 as they hunt down Nero, discover the secrets behind his plans and put an end to this memory erasing nightmare.

Chapter 1 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Resurgence"

"Alex"

CIA Warcom

Boracay Island, Philippines

Alex basked himself on the warm sandy beaches of the Philippines. He wasn't able to enjoy his vacation after the Nero mission, because he was sent immediately to Urzikstan and Verdansk immediately followed. And now that all of those were over, he now laid down on a beach chair and let the ocean breeze blow on his relaxed state.

Philippines was a nice country, the people were hospitable, the food was delicious and unique and the scenery was beyond amazing. Despite his metal leg, people still looked up at him the way they look at tourists and he was all of the hospitality and attention from his fellow Americans who are also on vacation to locals who were just amazed on how the leg works.

It's been a lot of months ever since Samantha forgot him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'll meet again, that's why no matter many women try to show interest in him, he shrugs them off politely by pretending he has a girlfriend. A simple lie that he built for himself in hopes of a miracle of meeting her again.

He always brought her letter with him, some edges of it got burnt from the time he manually detonated a C4 explosive to destroy a gas factory, It was almost torn and faded, but he couldn't leave it somewhere safe. He wanted it to be with him wherever he goes. 

'Don't you dare forget about me'

His phone rang. He quickly fished it from a small pouch he bought that the locals made and immediately answered.

"This is Alex speaking." he chimed.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of day Alex, but I have a feeling you'd want to jump in on this." a British accent so familiar informed him over the other side of the line, It was none other than Captain John Price or Bravo Six, a comrade he once fought with back in Urzikstan.

"I'm all ears." he said, sitting up straight and letting his metal leg sink in the sand.

"Looks like your boy Nero is back on the grid. That Sneaky bastard kidnapped the Daughter of the Head of Defense, again." Price relayed.

Alex's heart thumped faster, his breathing became quick. He wished to meet her again but not like this. Not her being in harm's way all over again.

"Shit. Count me in. But.." he hesitated. He wanted to help but remembered he disobeyed CIA orders back in Urzikstan, making him unable to provide support.

"I've talked to Laswell. She's creating a special assignment for you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means welcome to the 141, Alex." Price said as he cut off the call, followed by a message regarding his departure to their base.

~

Alex can't help but worry about Samantha's condition. They've played with her memories multiple times and he thought that it would all be over after she decided to alter everything about them. Guess the enemy didn't know and they're still after her.

The soldier leaned on to the small circular glass pane as he looked at the clouds pass by. His hands were fidgeting each other while his non-metal foot bounced up and down at a fast rate. His seatmate, who happens to be a teenager, noticed his distracting leg movement but ignored it as rock music blasted from his ears. He was a completely different Alex right now and he believed that he'll be back to normal as soon as he sees Samantha safe and within his grasp.

When you have a heavy metal stick as a leg, customs is going to be the most annoying place in the world. Everyone looked at Alex as soon as he passes the metal detector and everyone else's eyes were on him. Of course with a few more safety checks and a whole lot of explaining, Alex was good to go. 

"So, you're the one they call Alex" the heavily British accented driver mused, breaking the silence of their ride to the 141 base. He was looking at him via the rearview mirror, chewing on what Alex hoped to be gum.

"Yep. That's me." he replied, turning to the view of the British streets which confused him a lot as it was the opposite of American or even Global streets.

"Heard they thought you were dead back there. In Georgia." he added. He was quite the chatterbox but CIA Agents are all about the information.

"Yeah. Tried to manually detonate the C4. After that… I just ran for my life." Alex answered, his head was realizing why he did it. What pushed him to think that he could make it out alive. Was it because it's for the greater good? The idea of freeing Farah's country from the harm of the gas? The idea of a chance to meet Samantha all over again? Or something he couldn't explain.

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Alex. But it's a shame it's no longer in the CIA." the driver waved as Alex opened the door and unloaded his stuff.

"As long as it's still about saving the world." he replied, making the driver smile. 

"That's what we do, right?" he agreed as he entered in his car leaving Alex in front a quiet gray building, the Task Force 141 Base, his new home.

Alex pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large hall, multiple round sofas were embedded to the ground and a huge staircase that split left and right greeted him. Multiple heads turned as he opened the said door and slowly walked his way to the nearest person who happened to be panting from exhaustion by the sofa. His metal leg clanked on his every step as the soldiers begin to recognize him. They smiled as soon as Alex's eyes met theirs and some even waved, Alex met them from several missions from the past, some were from the Demon Dogs and his previous designations, Delta Force.

"Where's the briefing room in this huge building?" he asked the soldier in a black t shirt drenched in sweat as he spun his towel trying to keep up with his breathing. He didn't speak but he nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the hallway on the left. Alex left him a thanks and he walked his way to the direction where he pointed.

Just a few steps after the beginning of the hallway, the people from the main hall cheered and laughed, this made Alex turn around and he saw a young blonde man with spiky hair dash across him, he looked like he's on his way to your destination as well.

"Excuse me! Sir!" he yelled and Alex immediately halted. The young man panted in front of him and took a few seconds to breathe before he countinued his words.

"I'm Gary Sanderson, and I was supposed to guide you to the briefing room. You must be Alex." he reached out a hand and Alex shook it, quietly making your way to the room.

The huge door slid open and they found themselves in a dimly lit room, a huge screen loomed just by the wall and chairs were placed around a long circular table. Alex could spot a few familiar faces, faces he once saw and fought alongside with in Verdansk. There was the balaclava boy, Ghost, the Mohawk Man, Soap, their Captain, John Price and a few big heads from the United States. There were also new faces like Gary, who was now discussing something with another new soldier, a female soldier who sat by Price and a few new more who were already sitting on the chairs. There's also someone missing, Kyle Garrick, he pondered where he was.

The former CIA quickly saw Gary rush to Price's seat and whispered something causing him to lean on his chair, stand up and walk to his side. 

"Glad to see you back in the fight, Alex." he muttered, patting Alex's shoulder.

"I won't skip out on this mission, this one's close to home." he replied, patting his back in return.

"Yeah, heard this was your last mission before the Russian Gas." 

"Yeah. It's a loose end on my side." Alex nodded, crossing his arms.

"Good thing Shepherd had some sense in him. Not unlike your CIA heads, huh?" 

Alex nodded. He remembered he did an illegal thing against the CIA, and that was siding with Farah's forces, who were reclassified as global terror groups at that time. He silently thanked he could still step back in the fight along with the good guys even after that event.

"Yeah. I might have to thank him soon enough." Alex murmured and Price guided him to the briefing which was about to start in a few minutes.

~

"Before we start our mission briefing, I'd like to welcome each and everyone of you to the 141. A group of the most elite warriors from around the world tasked to eliminate terrorist threats lurking in the shadows. One of which, goes by the name Nero…" General Shepherd's voice was deep and serious, while the screen showed a photo of the guy they're after. His face looked punchable, as manifested by the way Alex clenched his fists while he stared at his soulless eyes.

"… whose goal is still unknown. He poses a threat as he has been out in American soil, which we believe is the one behind the multiple missing and reappearing person cases across the country." he continued, eyeing Alex. He knew a little bit about the case, maybe because he read his report.

"Since he poses no evidence of terrorist activity as of now, we are assigned to rescue and locate the daughter of Richard Coleman, America's Head of National Defense. We don't know why she was kidnapped but we believed it is or ransom or threatening purposes." The general explained, pacing back and forth, his shadow covered the screen.

Alex wanted to say something. Something about the details surrounding the case. It was written on his report. But then again, maybe the general already knew about the alteration, and since Samantha doesn't remember any IP Address, it was no longer worth noting.

Samantha's face was projected on the screen. Alex's heart began to beat faster, she looked different now, a little chubbier, longer hair and her smile felt happier. It was heartbreaking that she got caught in the crossfire again. After all those efforts of making her life normal.

'If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever. '

'Don't you dare forget about me.'

Her words echoed in his mind, using the same voice she had when they were together. 

"I will save you again if I had to.." he promised to her mentally, as he tightened the clench he was already doing.

"Our intel reports that twelve hours ago, local informants spotted an unknown flying vehicle just by the Georgian Border, local authorities confirmed that this wasn't one of their aircraft and we believe it could be the getaway vehicle of Samantha Coleman and her captors… We are still looking on to this so for the meantime I want each and one of you to be fully alert and ready for deployment."

Everyone else fell silent. It meant they agreed at what the high ranking official said. A few more words were exchanged such as new additions to the team, aside from Alex. He didn't seem to focus much on the second part of the brief as his mind worried a lot about Samantha. If his instincts were right, she's probably sedated once again, taking a trip down her own memory lane.

Chapter 2 : F.N.G.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

For @isakvaltersnake, happy birthday babe! I hope you are having a day as wonderful as you! 😘

Isobel

“Here you go,” Isobel slid a peanut butter milkshake across the table as she sat down.

Michael stared at it suspiciously. “What do you want?” Isobel hated peanut butter ice cream to the point where she’d usually complain if she even had to see it. For her to order it and hand it over meant bad things were coming.

“Why do you assume-” Michael glared at her. Isobel shrugged. “I just want to talk.”

“Uhuh,” Michael nodded as he unwrapped a straw and dropped it into the shake. “About what?”

Isobel waited until he took a sip. “Alex.” 

If she was hoping for a reaction, she was sorely disappointed. Michael just looked at her. “What about Alex?” They’d been back together, or maybe finally together depending on how you looked at their relationship history, for just under a month.

Isobel wavered, her face contorting into a weird expression. “Do you-” she stopped and squared her shoulders. “Are you sure this thing with him is a good idea?”

Michael straightened. “What?”

“When you told me about him you said that loving him was like a crash landing, that you loved him but that loving him hurt you. I just- you and Maria were so good together!” She reached across the table but Michael pulled out of her reach. “And if Maria’s not the one I’m sure there’s someone else. Someone who doesn’t hurt you.”

“Alex is it.” Michael stared at her in shock, hurt radiating through him. “There’s no one else.”

“Alex is going to hurt you,” Isobel urged quietly. “You said it yourself, that’s what he does.”

“What exactly is your problem with Alex?” Michael huffed. “I thought you two were friends?”

“We are! I like Alex. I just don’t like Alex for you.” Isobel sighed and leaned back. “Michael, I know you think you hid your relationship with him well or whatever, but it was really obvious whenever you would speak to him or see him. For ten years I watched you get really happy for a day or a week and then you’d spend weeks or months depressed because he left you. Again.” Michael turned away from her, unable to take her earnest expression. “Right now you’re in the really happy phase and I’m happy for you but I know what comes after and I just- maybe if you get out now, you’ll be okay.”

“So you want me to leave him before he can leave me?”

“Yeah. It’s harsh, I know. I’m not trying to be mean or whatever, I just want you to be happy.”

Michael glared at her. “I am happy, Isobel. Right now. With Alex.”

Isobel paused. “And what about next week? Next month? He’s going to leave again, you said it yourself he always does. What happens then?” She grabbed Michael’s hand and squeezed tightly. “I want you to be happy always, Michael. Not just right now.”

Michael yanked his hand away. “Thanks for the milkshake.” He stood up and walked out. 

Kyle

“I brought tamales!” Kyle kicked the door shut behind him. There was no answer. “Alex?” Still nothing. The cabin was silent except for a distant, rhythmic thwacking. Kyle followed the sound out to the back deck where he found Alex leaning over the back railing, coffee forgotten in his hands as he stared out into the distance. The sound was louder out here. 

“Hey,” he greeted. Alex’s shoulders had stiffened when the door opened but now they relaxed. “I brought tamales.” He joined Alex at the railing and frowned at what had Alex so captivated. A few feet away Michael was shirtless and surrounded by a pile of wood, chopped and unchopped. The thwacking was the sound of his axe splitting logs cleanly in half, again and again. “Alex?”

“Hmm?” Alex blinked and finally looked over. “Hey. Tamales?” He grinned as he reached for the platter in Kyle’s hands. “What’s the occasion?” He wandered over to the little table set up on the side of the deck and put the platter down. Kyle shrugged as he joined him.

“Mom made way more than we could eat.” More like he’d begged his mom to make more than they could eat so he could use the leftovers. “Thought I’d spread the wealth.” He left Alex to unwrap them while he went inside for plates and napkins and forks. “Here,” he handed them over as he sat down.

“So,” Alex asked as they dug in. “What’s the occasion?” He asked again, a keen look in his eyes as he stared at Kyle across the table. 

Kyle listened to the continued thwack of Michael’s axe and shrugged. “Just wanted to share the food.”

“Uhuh,” Alex stuffed his face. “You know, when we were 12 and we broke your dad’s memorabilia case, you begged your mom for tamales so you could break the news over dinner.” Kyle cringed. “And last year, when they told Maria the truth about aliens? Tamales.” He pointed his fork at Kyle. “So. What’s the occasion?”

Kyle looked over his shoulder at where Michael stood in the yard. He couldn’t see him, but the message was clear.

“What about Michael?” Alex’s voice was a distinct tone tenser than it had been before.

“I’m just- I’m worried.”

Alex blinked. “About what?”

“About you. About, well, him,” Kyle jerked his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re happy. It’s just- he chose someone else before and I remember what you were like then and I just-”

“Kyle,” Alex’s voice was hard. “I appreciate your concern but butt out.”

Kyle nodded as he took a bite, thinking as he chewed slowly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Alex. And Michael, he- he can hurt you like no one else can. And he has, in the past.”

“Just because he has, doesn’t mean he will. And if he does, that’s none of your business.”

“You’re my friend, Alex. If he hurts you, then yeah, that is my business.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, the food forgotten in front of him when footsteps on the stairs cut him off. Kyle hadn’t even noticed the sound of the axe going quiet. 

“Valenti,” Michael greeted. “Are those tamales?” Kyle nudged the platter towards him without a word, Alex glaring at him from across the table.

“Help yourself.”

“Thanks. I’m just gonna grab some water first.” Michael pressed a quick kiss on Alex’s upturned lips and disappeared into the house. 

As soon as the door closed, Alex started speaking. “My relationship is my business, Kyle, not yours. You don’t get a say in it, at all. I appreciate the concern but it’s not needed and it’s not wanted. Michael’s not going to hurt me.” The words were all the right ones and Alex’s voice was strong and stern but there was something in his eyes that belied them. A kind of vulnerability, Kyle might even call it doubt. 

“Okay,” Kyle agreed and left it at that.

Max

“So.”

Michael groaned. No conversation with Max that started with ‘so’ ever ended well. “No,” he tried to cut him off at the pass.

“You’re dating Alex,” Max bulldozed on.

“No,” Michael tried again.

Max furrowed his brow in confusion. “You’re not dating Alex?”

“No, I am. I just meant no, I’m not talking about this with you.”

“But I don’t understand.” He turned on Michael with the godforsaken earnest expression that Michael fell for every time. “You told me he reminds you of how much humans suck, about how love is pain. And Isobel said you were with Maria for over a year while I was…gone.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed slowly. “And now I’m with Alex.”

“But why?”

Michael stared at him. “Because I love him.”

“But he hurts you.”

Michael blinked. “If Liz broke your heart would you still love her?”

“Of course,” Max replied easily.

“And if she wanted to try again, would you?”

“Yes,” Max agreed again. “But I’m not sure I’d keep going back for thirds or fourths or fifths or whatever number you two are on. I mean, this is attempt number…ten?” Max shook his head. “I feel like I watched the Alex Manes roller coaster about once a year so after almost 12 years, excepting the year you dated Maria, this has gotta be into double digits now and I just- I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself.”

Michael took a large swig of his beer and looked out at the fire. “Because I love him.” Like that was enough. In Michael’s mind it was. It should be all that’s needed.

“Just because you love him doesn’t mean he can’t destroy you,” Max warned, unknowingly echoing Michael. “I don’t want to see that happen again. I don’t want to see you hurt like that again.”

“You know, Isobel gave me this same speech a month ago. Why the hell are you two suddenly so gungho about protecting me from Alex?”

“Because for ten years we didn’t,” Max answered immediately. “And we’re trying to do better now. We stood there and watched as he hurt you, as he broke you, again and again and we can’t do it anymore.” He reached out and clasped Michael on the shoulder. “Is it really worth it to be happy now for a little while even though you know it’s going to hurt like hell later?”

“Yes,” Michael replied instantly. Max just smiled sadly, like he didn’t believe him and honestly, Michael wasn’t quite sure he believed himself.

Jenna

“I leave for two years and the town goes to shit,” Jenna dropped into the chair opposite him.

Alex raised an eyebrow, french fry poised above his milkshake. “Jenna,” he greeted. She’d been in town for a little over two weeks but this was the first conversation they’d had. “Roswell isn’t that bad.”

Jenna scoffed as she reached over and stole one of his fries. “There is exactly one, count them one, deputy in the Sheriff’s department. Gun violence is up 12%. The Air Force is literally in your backyard and there is an internal investigation into your whole family as well as the continued existence of Project Shepherd. And you’re dating Michael Guerin.”

“One of those things is not like the others,” Alex pointed out as he popped a fry into his mouth, ignoring the other points she’d raised. She wasn’t wrong.

“Heard he dated DeLuca,” she pointed out.

“He did. Your point?”

Jenna shrugged and stole another fry. “No point. Just surprised. He seems like a really bad idea. Especially for a soldier.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “He’s not.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged again before seamlessly transitioning into a status update on all things Roswell. She may have been gone for a while but she was ready to jump back into the thick of things now that she was back.

Alex obliged her, filling her in on what she’d missed, but he’d be lying if he said her comment didn’t stick with him.

Liz

Liz hung back as Michael and Alex said goodbye, her eyes averted as their goodbye kiss stretched on and on. 

“Bye Liz,” Alex finally said and she waved as he escaped Michael’s wandering hands and managed to get into his car and drive away. Michael pouted after him.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Liz pointed out with a short laugh.

Michael shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, a whole 36 hours with no Alex. I don’t know how I’ll survive,” he whined dramatically as he fell back into his chair next to her. Liz winced in sympathy as the old metal thing clanged. She didn’t spend much time out here at Michael’s fire pit and these chairs were a large part of why. 

Liz stared after Alex for a long while, worrying her lips as she thought about what she wanted to say. “You really hurt him,” she accused softly.

Michael stilled next to her, his phone falling to his lap as he turned to face her. “What?”

“Alex,” she clarified needlessly. “When you cho- when you dated Maria. You really hurt him.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because I don’t want to see him hurt like that again.” Liz turned to Michael. “I’ve been a crappy friend to him in the past but I’m trying to do better and I don’t want to see him like that ever again. He was a mess. He hid it whenever you or Maria were around but he was not okay.”

“Liz-”

“You have this power to hurt him like I’ve never seen before. His dad- his family messed him up pretty good emotionally and Alex doesn’t let people in far enough to really be able to hurt him. Except for you. He let you in and you repaid that by breaking his heart. And I know that you’re doing better, the two of are together and it’s good. Alex is happy. I just- I have to wonder how long it’ll be before you break his heart again.” Liz kept her voice soft, not wanting to hurt Michael with her words.

Michael didn’t say anything for a long while. He sat quietly and finished his beer, getting up to throw it away without a word. When he came back, he bypassed his chair and went straight to the door of his trailer and yanked it open. With a foot on the bottom rung he paused and turned to her. “With all due respect, Liz? Fuck off.” He vanished inside, the door slamming loudly behind him.

Maria

Alex smiled around his bottle as he caught sight of Michael over by the pool table talking to a younger guy. He knew the quirk of Michael’s lips, knew the gently teasing tone of his voice right now even if he couldn’t hear it, he even knew the light blush on the other’s guys cheeks. Michael was a friendly guy, he flirted as a way of communicating, and Alex enjoyed watching him make other people squirm just a little.

“Here,” Maria dropped a fresh bottle at his elbow. 

Alex looked at it then at her. “I didn’t order it.” They were getting better these days but their friendship hadn’t fully recovered just yet.

Maria wiped her hands on a towel and cut a glance across the room at Michael. “Thought you might need it. Three months, right?” She didn’t wait for Alex to reply. “That’s about when he started last time, too.” She nodded at where Michael was now leaning over the other guy, his head bent low as he whispered into his ear. The poor guy’s face, neck, and ears were flaming red. “He’s cute.” She smiled sadly at Alex and left to help someone else.

Alex looked back over at Michael. He knew, he knew, that Michael would never do anything with someone else. It wasn’t even a concern to him. But the smile on Michael’s face as the guy started to flirt back gave him pause. That wasn’t a smile Michael wore often. It was nice to see, less nice to see someone else putting it on his face. Kyle’s words from a few weeks before rang loudly in his head. Alex shook them away. Michael wasn’t going to leave him and he wasn’t going to choose someone else.

Not again.

“Hey,” Maria was back. “If you want to talk…”

Alex glanced at her and shook his head sharply. Even if he did want to talk about his relationship, he couldn’t do it with Maria. But he appreciated that she’d offered. “Nothing to talk about,” he forced a smile.

Maria looked from him to Michael and back again. “Alex…” she stopped and nodded. “Okay. But if you change your mind, offer’s always open.” They both knew he wouldn’t, that it would hurt both of them too much for Alex to even really consider it, but the offer was there.

Michael and Alex

“Talk to me,” Michael urged as soon as the door closed behind them. Alex walked into the bedroom, shedding his jacket along the way. 

“About what?” He played dumb.

“About why you’ve been so quiet,” Michael followed him. “You didn’t say a word the whole drive back.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“Alex.” Michael sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “We said no more secrets.”

Alex paused, his shirt falling to the floor. “It’s nothing, really.” Michael scoffed and Alex sighed. “Just-” He stopped and shook his head before joining Michael on the bed. “Are we making a mistake?”

“A mistake? About what?”

“This,” Alex gestured between them. “Us.”

Michael froze even as he leaned away from him. “Do you think we’re a mistake?”

“No!” Alex hurried to say. “But everyone else seems to and I don’t know. Maybe they’re all seeing something we’re not.”

“Who?” Michael shifted to sit sideways, one knee coming up onto the bed. “Who said we’re a mistake.”

Alex sighed and mirrored his position. “No one said we’re a mistake. Just- Kyle’s worried I’m going to get hurt again, Jenna thinks you’re a bad idea, and Maria warned me that you like to flirt.”

“Do you think I like to flirt?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex answered easily and Michael leaned away again. “But that’s not a bad thing. I don’t think you mean anything by it and I don’t think you’ll ever do anything with someone else.”

“So why does it matter what Maria said?”

Alex paused. “Because I saw the way you were smiling with that guy tonight. You looked happy, like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was,” Michael admitted. “He was a nice guy and he knew how to play pool better than most people here. But that doesn’t mean we’re a mistake, Alex. Flirting with a guy at the Wild Pony does not mean anything for us.”

“Maybe it means there could be something better for you out there than me. Kyle’s not wrong, you know, we’ve hurt each other, a lot, and we’re trying to make this work because we think we’re meant to be but-”

“We are,” Michael argued. “And I don’t care what Valenti, or Isobel, or Max, or Liz, have to say. Just because we’ve hurt each other before doesn’t mean we will in the future. We’re better now.”

“We are,” Alex agreed. “But what if we could be even better with other people and we’re forcing this just because we think we have to?”

Michael stood up and paced a bit before stopping. It didn’t escape Alex’s notice that he stopped on the other side of the room. “So what?” He shrugged. “I love you and you love me, why isn’t that enough? Why does everyone keep focusing on the past?”

“Liz and Isobel and Max talked to you?” Alex asked quietly.

“Yeah? So what? They think we’ll hurt each other again. They’re wrong. I’ve been ignoring them for months, why can’t you?! ”

“Are they? Maybe we’re too close to this to think rationally,” Alex suggested sadly. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe we’re just meant to hurt each other.”

“Alex-”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Michael.”

“Then shut up!” Michael yelled. “This,” he waved between them, “this is hurting me right now. You thinking we can’t make it is hurting me.”

“Michael-”

“I need a shower,” Michael turned and fled. The shower kicked on a minute later. Alex sat on the bed and listened to it run, his mind whirring. 

There was a picture on top of the dresser opposite the bed and Alex couldn’t help but stare at it. It was a selfie, taken one night about a month prior. Michael had had it printed and stuck it in a frame and Alex honestly wasn’t sure why. It was a good photo of them but they had a dozen like it on each of their phones. Alex had taken it on Michael’s phone one night while they watched a movie. They had considered going out to the drive in before ultimately deciding they didn’t want to waste their night around other people. Alex had picked a random movie off of Netflix that he honestly couldn’t remember because he’d been so focused on Michael’s thumb rubbing circles into his hip. At one point, Alex had sank so deeply into Michael’s embrace that they were almost horizontal and he’d grabbed Michael’s phone on a whim and snapped a picture of them. It was just a standard Friday night for them. 

He stopped and thought about that. A night spent watching a movie, wrapped in each other’s arms after having dinner and talking about their day. That was standard for them now. And that picture wasn’t special for any reason other than the fact that they had a dozen more like it. 

His mind replayed all of the time they’d spent together over the last three months and he realized it was good. It was better than good, really. They hadn’t jumped into anything, they’d taken it slow and built it from the ground up. They were solid. And fuck their friends for doubting them.

Alex grabbed his phone and pulled open the group chat.

[From: Alex]

We appreciate the concern but stay out of our relationship. The next person who suggests that it would be better if we broke up is getting punched in the face. Consider this your friendly warning.

The shower cut off just as he hit send so Alex quickly dropped the phone onto the nightstand and joined Michael in the bathroom. He was just stepping out of the shower, his skin still wet as he reached for a towel. Michael glanced at Alex but didn’t pause as he started drying off.

“I’m sorry,” Alex started and that caused Michael’s head to snap up. “I shouldn’t have listened to any of them. I shouldn’t have doubted us.”

Michael sighed. “Then why did you?”

“It’s hard to hear someone else say your insecurities. I have bad thoughts sometimes, I get a little afraid that maybe we’re making a mistake, but I usually ignore them or find a way to shut them up. When it’s someone else saying it, it made me think maybe I shouldn’t be ignoring them.”

Michael straightened up, the towel hanging loosely in his hand. “So what exactly changed while I was taking a shower?”

Alex shrugged, really wishing Michael wasn’t naked for this conversation. “I did? Or I guess my mindset did?” He took a step closer to Michael. “We’ve built a relationship. We’ve had countless conversations talking about literally everything and I know we’re solid. I forgot that our friends, as much as they love us and want the best for us, haven’t seen any of that. They think we’re the same people we were in the past and we’re not. And this relationship isn’t the same. It’s so much better.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked, surprisingly shy.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded firmly. “We are great.”

“Hell yeah we are,” Michael agreed. He reached for Alex at the same time that Alex reached for him. They met in the middle, Michael’s hands finding their usual place on the sides of Alex’s face while Alex’s hands slipped on Michael’s wet skin. “Was that a fight?” He asked between kisses.

“Yes?” Alex replied.

“So we just made up?” Michael grinned, causing Alex to laugh and nod. “Awesome,” he breathed into their next kiss as he gently guided Alex back to the bedroom. 

[roswelldetails]

Episode 202: Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space - Details

EPISODE SUMMARY:

Liz (Jeanine Mason) is forced to put her latest experiment on hold after Rosa (Amber Midthunder) begins to struggle with her new life in Roswell. Reluctant to face the truth about his mother’s past, Michael (Michael Vlamis) turns his attention to helping Maria (Heather Hemmens), who is dealing with her own family crisis. Elsewhere, Isobel (Lily Cowles) agrees to join her mother for a day of spiritual healing to keep herself distracted. Finally, Rosa turns to Kyle (Michael Trevino) to learn the truth about what really happened the night she died. Tyler Blackburn and Trevor St. John also star. Lance Anderson directed the episode written by Eva McKenna (#202.) Original airdate 3/23/2020.

DETAILS:

Secret lab is in an Indian Boarding School that was shut down. The Air Force bought it. It's been empty for 40 years (i.e., since approx. 1979). Part of Alex's job is to monitor it.

Security was set up by Alex’s team. They follow orders and don’t ask questions. (But that also means other soldiers know about it.)

Max's password was password. 🙄

Liz lies to Rosa. "It was beautiful. The whole town came. Everyone joined in the rosario. Mom sang Las Golondrinas. Dad wanted you in a white dress but I insisted on your Live Through This t-shirt."

According to: https://blog.sevenponds.com/cultural-perspectives/tradition-spanish-funeral “Nine days after the death, the family holds a ceremony known as a “rosario.” It consists of candles, flowers, prayers and sharing memories of the person who has died. The rosario also takes place every year on the anniversary of the person’s death.”

Las Golondrinas

Rosa Nightmare #1… unclear when it started since it flowed directly from her on the couch, doing graffiti around town, seeing her dad. Assuming it starts when she goes to the Wild Pony, pours herself a drink, hesitates, and then Max appears.

Max and Rosa's exchange:.

"What are you waiting for? You have to stop Liz. Tell her she can't bring me back, Rosa."

"Why? Why don't you want her to save you?"

"I can't take it anymore. Just end it."

"They'll figure it out. They'll save you."

"I can't wait that long. It's like burning alive from inside."

"She's never going to stop trying."

"Then you have to stop her. Please!"

Rosa wants her sketchbook from the bookshelf in their room. (Later in the episode when she breaks in we see that the bookshelf is empty. Liz cleared out Rosa's things in 1x07.)

Rosa's old email everunclear@yahoo.com (90s music reference to the band Everclear).

Michael is experimenting by blow torching a piece of alien ship.

Apparently it was Lindsay (of Hank and Lindsay) that Michael made out with. Seeing as it's only been a month since Hank died (2 weeks passed in 2x01, Maria says in 2x02 that her mom has been missing for 2 weeks), and the big guy was pissed about Michael making out with her, she moves on pretty quickly!

Maria is meeting with a private detective.

Science babble! "Human tissue can obviously regenerate from stem cells. With the right methodology I could use your blood (Isobel) to make adjustments for alien physiology. I have to monitor exactly when cell degradation begins, down to the second. I can't miss it. Eight hours before I need to be back.

Michael is developing nanotechnology to make the transplant possible. "It's like replacing parts in a broken machine."

They harvested all of Noah’s primary organs. "I have his body parts in jars."

Isobel steals what looks like an empty syringe. But at the end of the episode she has the serum in it.

New brand of fake beer! (Last season it was always Copper black lager. Now it's Hunks and Heroes Lager! Broken bottles were on the ground in the cemetery, Wyatt Long is carrying a bottle at the beginning of the scene when he and Michael fight (which could tie him to the graffiti on Rosa's grave), and also has a bottle in front of him on his YouTube video.

Michael is holding a bag from Milikan Value Hardware Store.

Flint's report on Caulfield: "Shepherd Protocol was activated. Bodies were disposed of without incident. Local papers ran an item confirming that the long-scheduled demolition of the prison was a success."

Exchange between Jesse and Flint:

"Dad, I don't think we should have covered it up. People should know."

"Do you have any idea what would happen if we confirmed that alien specimens were once housed at Caulfield but are now suddenly gone? It'd be dismissed as fake news. Buried by a racist tweet within seconds. No, we need to make a bigger statement."

"'Cause justice can't be served until after disaster has struck."

"That's right."

Really don't want to transcribe the racist rant from Wyatt Long that Rosa watches, although I will if y'all demand it. I don't think it's relevant beyond Rosa learning the truth. However as a detail I want to note, the video is titled BUILD THE WALL! IN MEMORY OF KATE LONG and it's dated September 3, 2010 (so 2 years and a few months after they died). Amusing side note. The comments on the video. Great fake usernames:

fayhuman: Kate Long didn't deserve what happened.

Curious Murphy: I just donated to the cause!!

thecyberwitch48: is this really the best solution?

Isobel’s baby is at 5 weeks, the size of a lentil.

Isobel calls Ann "Mama". Good note for fic writers! 😉

Maria's class: "Woman as Warrior: Strength Training for the Mind, Body, and Spirit."

Under the Bridge - same location as in 1x03 where Liz finds Rosa's paint canister.

Maria's cards:

Maria DeLuca

Psychic Reader

Spirit Leader

Social Media Revitalizer

Great line: "The infinite reservoir of strength and healing within us all" 😂👏

Rosa's chart…

"What's this error here?"

"Must be a contaminated sample."

"No way. I'm meticulous."

Steph says regarding the error on Rosa’s test “Congrats. Looks like you just discovered a protein never before found in the human body. Or you didn't get the Flamin' Hot orange dust off your hands when you scrubbed in. Whichever's most likely."

Michael to Liz, "I was working. I went home to find formulas I worked out years ago…"

Rosa is reciting Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer, which is commonly used by AA and other 12 step programs.

Noah was struck by lightning directly in the heart.

Isobel’s moment of epiphany:

"Using your newfound goddess strength I want you to get up and throw your fear into the fire. Set yourself free. You're a warrior. You aren't afraid of anything. Draw upon your feminine power. Why are you hesitating, Isobel? The sooner you throw your paper in the fire the sooner you can leave."

"Look, it's not that simple, okay? I can't just throw this into the fire." Maria gasps and rubs her chest, similar to how she did when she realized her necklace was missing at the beginning in 1x10) "I'm trapped.

Ann: "This is my fault. I put too much pressure on you."

"It's nobody's fault. It's just here."

Maria: "Whatever it is, you can choose to set yourself free. Say it. 'Say I choose to set myself free.'"

"I choose to set myself free."

Maria: "Louder."

"I choose to set myself free."

Rosa breaks into the Crashdown. It mirrors her first nightmare in 2x01, but it's not a dream. She goes to her room, sees the empty bookshelf, goes to the closet, and snags a hidden bottle of tequila.

Camera lingers on Steph stuffing a bottle of nail polish remover in her purse. Note: she was actually doing her nails.

Michael and Alex's conversation mostly mirrors the information we learned from the file in last week's episode. She wasn't caught until October 1948 and the crash was June 1947. She was the last alien captured and admitted into Caulfield. Alex thinks people in Roswell might have known her.

Liz says that the accident never made sense to her because when Rosa was 12, Mamma Ortecho drove drunk with Liz and Rosa in the car, hit a bike, and flipped the car. Rosa told Mamma Ortecho that she would kill her if she ever drove drunk with Liz in the car again.

Rosa's tequila brand: Blistering Rose.

Rosa’s 2nd Nightmare: Rosa runs into the cave and starts beating on the pod. When she hits it, it sounds like metal (which doesn't seem like it would make sense given what we know about the pods).

Her conversation with Max:

"Leave me alone, you dick!"

"I am so much pain, Rosa."

"Oh really? So is everybody. Man up."

"Have some mercy. I saved your life."

"My life is gone. My mom bailed, I can't talk to my dad, my entire town hates me, and my sweet little sister is somebody that I don't even know. But I do know that she'll save you. She's gonna fix you and until then, leave me alone."

"I'd Liz won't stop then you have to do it. Go to the pod, pull me out, and walk away. You won't be killing me, Rosa. I'm already dead."

"I said no. Leave me alone."

"As long as that handprint is on you I can reach you."

"Fine. I'm an expert at quieting voices."

"No. Rosa, wait. Don't do anything stupid."

"I never dreamed when I was using."

MUSIC:

1. Oasis "Wonderwall"

2. Gord Bamford "#Rednek"

3. Hamish Anderson "Trouble"

4. Radiohead "High And Dry"

[fraudulentzodiacs]

never let me down, just lead me home

I’m supposed to be working on my RNM Week fics, but this wouldn’t leave me alone. Inspired by this amazing Bellarke gifset. I hope it’s okay I borrowed this beautiful poem! Set during S2, with Alex disappearing and his return becoming Michael’s sole focus in life. 

For @partsofthesamecosmicbeing and @bisexualalienblast, for just being them. 

Clotho declares “He is gone”

And he breaks

Alex is gone for two days before anyone notices.

Kyle bursts into the makeshift lab he and Liz have set up in Max’s house, both desperately working to find a way to revive a now pod-bound Max.

“Kyle?” Liz asks in a worried tone, and it’s only then that Michael looks up from the latest test results to see the wild, scared look in the man’s eyes.

“Alex is gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Michael feels his entire body tense at Liz’s question, the worry quickly escalating to panic clear.

“I mean, I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, so I drove out to the cabin to check on him, and he’s not there.”

“It’s not too out of the ordinary for Alex to take off. Not lately, anyway.” Liz replies, and Michael doesn’t need her to look at him to know that he’s the reason why Alex has taken to disappearing. They haven’t been on the best of terms since he began dating Maria - in fact, they hadn’t said more than a handful of words since their last showdown at Michael’s trailer the day Max died. Since then, Alex had distanced himself from their group, which Michael understood despite having to live with the hurt and guilt in his girlfriend’s eyes when Alex flatly refused to speak to her at all.

“No, it’s not.” Kyle agrees. “But when I got to the cabin, the door was busted open, and it looked like there had been a fight. One that Alex apparently lost.”

“Jesse?” Michael pushes away from the table, sidestepping Liz.

“No, he’s still in the coma. This is something else.”

“Aliens?” Liz asks, and Kyle’s shrug sends a jolt of irritation down Michael’s spine.

“It didn’t look like it. Looked human, and it could have been any of Jesse’s Project Shepherd cronies.”

“Flint.” Michael states, and Kyle nods.

“Probably. We haven’t heard anything about him since Caulfield, but Alex was digging around in the hard drives we were able to steal. He told me a few days ago that he was trying to track Flint’s movements, see if he could find another blacksite.”

“Show me everything you have.” Michael uses his telekinesis to pull his jacket from across the room, gesturing to the door.

“I don’t need your help, Guerin.” Kyle argues. “I can find him myself, I just wanted Liz to know.”

“It’s Alex.” Michael replies, his voice like steel. “You’re getting my help whether you like it or not.”

“Wish you had been this concerned for Alex while you were busy breaking his heart and sleeping with his best friend.” Kyle throws back, and Liz slips between them before he can escalate the fight.

“That’s enough.” Liz warns. “We all care about Alex, and we are all going to work together to find him. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Michael deflates. “I’ll meet you outside, just give me a minute to call Isobel.” Liz nods, guiding Kyle out of the lab as the man shoots daggers in Michael’s direction.

Once they’re out of the room, a shaky breath escapes Michael as he leans against the wall, the chaos in his head even worse than usual as he thought of Alex missing - Alex gone - with no clue as to where he was or what was happening to him. It was Alex’s deployments all over again, only this time worse, because Michael could do something about it this time, but he had no idea where to start. Tears burned in his eyes as he struggled to control his breathing, and he could feel Isobel on the edges of his mind as his panic increased, probing and searching and Michael is sure that all she can get from him is Alexalexalexalexalexalexalex. He takes a few more deep breaths before hitting the call button on his cell, Isobel picking up almost immediately.

“Alex is missing. Meet us at the Crashdown.” He manages to get out.

“I’ll be there in ten.” Isobel replies. “Are you okay?”

“I have to be.” Is all Michael replies before hanging up. He can’t afford to break right now.

Alex is depending on him.

Lachesis pronounces “You will never have him again”

And he crumbles

Michael spends the next five days in the Project Shepherd bunker. The place makes him physically ill, but it’s the best place to be as they search for Alex. Kyle is there outside of any shift he can’t get out of. Liz alternates between the bunker and their lab - Michael loves Max, but he can’t spare any time while Max is relatively safe in the pod and Alex is gone. Maria and Rosa make sure everyone is properly taken care of and that Michael survives on more than energy drinks, acetone, and pure stubbornness. Maria doesn’t question Michael’s determination, but he can’t miss the faraway sad look in her eyes when she thinks he isn’t looking. He can’t worry about that now, though, because he has to bring Alex home. Everything else can wait.

Isobel is a steady presence, seeming to understand instinctively when to be there to support him and when to leave him to his work. It’s the most together she’s been since Max died, and Michael thinks that it has more to do with Isobel feeling needed when it comes to Michael than a desire to find Alex.

Michael loses all sense of time in the bunker, only marking the passing of the days by his visitors changing their clothes. Isobel arrives with coffee and bagels, and manages to pull Michael away from the computers and into a chair at the table long enough for him to give her a decent conversation.

“Have you made any progress?” She asks as she spreads her bagel with cream cheese, watching him closely to make sure he eats his own.

“No. Maybe. It’s hard to tell.” Michael admits, running his hand through his hair. “It feels like we’re always three steps behind them. I think I found the site they were holding him at initially, but the site went dark before we could even think about getting out there.”

“Why do you think they’re holding him? I mean, they haven’t made any demands or anything. What do they want?”

“To keep him quiet. He knows about everything, but he’s against his father and that makes him dangerous.”

“But, Michael, if they want to keep him quiet…” Isobel begins, but Michael gives a cold glare before she can finish.

“Don’t.” He replies, begs, his voice harsh and sharp.

“I know you want to bring him back, Michael, but maybe you can’t track him because there’s nothing to track.”

“That’s not true. He’s alive, Iz. I know it.”

“Michael…” Michael feels Isobel move her chair closer to his, can feel her on the edges of his mind.

“He has to be alive.” Michael hears the sob in his voice before he feels it escape. “I would feel it, I would know.”

He hasn’t cried, not once, since this whole thing began. He had refused, because - after Max, and now Alex - he’s afraid that if he starts he’ll never stop. Isobel pulls him into her arms and he cries into her neck, her familiar perfume the only thing he can sense with any clarity.

“I can’t, Iz.” Michael sobs, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably despite Isobel’s attempts to calm him. “I can’t, not now. After Max, I…”

“I know, Michael, I know.” Michael can register the wobbly, wet tone in Isobel’s voice, which just makes him cry harder against her.

He slowly calms in his sister’s arms, though she doesn’t let go of him until his breathing is even and steady once again.

“I have to find him.” He finally says, and Isobel nods.

“And we will. We just have to find Flint first, right?”

“But he’s always ahead of us, always gone…” Michael drifts off, his gaze returning to the computer monitors. “We need someone who knows Flint’s mind, who knows his orders…”

“Michael…” Isobel’s voice is wary. “You can’t…”

“Call Valenti, tell him to wake up Manes.”

Atropos taunts “He is lost to you forever”

And he falls

It takes Kyle a full day to get Jesse stable enough to sneak him out of the hospital and into the bunker. Alex has been gone for over a week, and Michael feels like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin as he waits. He knows that Jesse is their best chance at tracking Flint - at finding Alex - but the thought of bringing the person he hates most in the world out of the coma that’s kept them all safe makes him want to be sick. But, he reminds himself, they’re not all safe, not until Alex is home. Not until Michael can have him in front of him and know that he’s not suffering and dying for trying to protect Michael and his siblings from his own family.

They set Jesse up in one of the small interrogation rooms in the bunker, shackled to an uncomfortable metal chair by his hands and feet despite the fact that Jesse is too weak from months of being bedridden to be any kind of real threat. It’s just him and Valenti in the room with him, Isobel, Maria, Liz, and Rosa waiting in the main room of the bunker.

“Where would Flint take Alex?” Kyle asks evenly, staring hard at Jesse Manes.

“I have no idea.” Jesse replies, his voice lacking any kind of emotion as he stares at the man he shot not six months earlier.

“Wrong answer.” Michael informs him.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been in a coma. How would I know?”

“Because Flint is a good little soldier who always follows Daddy’s orders.” Kyle snaps back. “He wouldn’t do anything as stupid as kidnapping Alex without knowing it’s what you would want. We know he has him, now tell us the locations of the blacksites or how to contact Flint.”

“Why, exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll let Isobel in here and have her turn your brain into pudding.” Michael points out, and Jesse scoffs.

“You wouldn’t. You do that, and you’ll never find my degenerate son.”

“You help us get Alex back, and I’ll think about not putting you back under. How about that?” Kyle offers, and Michael can see every muscle in his body tense.

“If Flint has taken Alex, he is gone.” Jesse turns to look at Michael, disgust clear on his features. “He is lost, forever, and good riddance. You’ll never see him again.”

Kyle yells out at him to stop as Michael stands so quickly the chair he was sitting in flies across the room. The chains holding Jesse snap as Michael uses the full force of his powers to pull him away from the chair, pinning him against the wall, his healed hand wrapping itself around Jesse’s neck.

“Tell me where he is, and I won’t snap your neck here and now.” Michael growls, using both his hand and his power to tighten his grip.

“That’s it, prove me right.” Jesse wheezes, his eyes cold as he stares at Michael. “Prove that you’re the monster you’ve always been. Kill me. You and my son deserve each other.”

“You’re the monster, not me, and not Alex. Alex is good and kind and all we ever did was love each other. But you couldn’t stand that, could you? Couldn’t stand that he wasn’t just like you. That he was better. He’s better than all of us, he could never kill you. But I could.” 

“Michael!” Maria calls, and Michael pulls away from Jesse, turns to see that the girls have entered the room. He lets his telekinetic hold on Jesse go, the older man slumping to the floor. He turns back to Jesse, coughing as gasping as he stares up at Michael with pure hatred. He crouches down, gesturing over his shoulder at Isobel.

“You don’t want to tell us where Alex is? Maybe you’ll tell Isobel.”

Michael stands and moves to where Isobel is, watching him with wary eyes.

“Do whatever you have to do.” He instructs her before slipping out of the room.

They decree “This time you cannot save him”

And he defies them all

Michael leaves Isobel to deal with Jesse, his breathing heavy as he stumbles out of the room, out of the bunker, and into his truck. It’s the first time he’s left the bunker in days, and he’s not sure where he’s going until he’s driven out of town and is pulling up to Alex’s cabin. It looks just like it always has, Liz, Maria, and Rosa having come over and cleaned it up to give them something to do while they searched for Alex. He uses his power to unlock the front door, the house quiet and still, everything in its place. He wanders through slowly, taking in the small pieces of Alex that he finds. It’s tidy, orderly in a way that Michael has to assume comes from years of living with Jesse Manes and then serving in the military. When he enters the bedroom, however, his eyes go straight to the leather jacket resting on the back of a chair, the jacket he’d been wearing when Michael had finally pushed him away, looked away from him and at something easier, less painful.

He cares about Maria - loves her, even. She is everything that is bright and hopeful and new on this godforsaken planet. She makes him feel lighter. He ran his hand over the jacket, feeling the soft material on his fingers, pictures gripping it in his hands while Alex wore it. Pictures it lying across the counter in his trailer, thrown aside haphazardly as Michael surrounds himself in everything Alex the way he had always wanted to whenever he was near. If he hadn’t been so out of his mind that day, if he had fought one more time for them, maybe Alex would still be here. Maybe he could have protected him.

“I thought I’d find you here.” A familiar voice calls out, and Michael turns swiftly to find Maria leaning against the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, and Maria shrugs.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I figured this was where you were headed.”

“Has Isobel…”

“No, not yet. Apparently, he’s fighting her pretty hard despite the fact that he just got out of the coma.”

“Okay.” Michael murmurs, turning his gaze back to the jacket.

“I don’t know how I ever missed it.”

“Missed what?” Michael asks, and he hears Maria sigh. When he looks at her again, tears are bright in her eyes.

“You love him.”

“You knew that.” Michael points out.

“Yeah, but I thought that it was over. But it isn’t, is it? It never has been. It’ll never really be over between you two.”

“Maria…” Michael begins, and Maria interrupts him with a raised hand.

“I’m not going to say it’s okay, because you used me, and Alex was my best friend. We both made a mistake. But, that’s not a conversation we need to have today You have to know, though, that it’s over between us.”

“I’m sorry.” Michael tries, collapsing onto Alex’s bed, his head in his hands. He feels the mattress sink next to him as Maria sits.

“I know.” She replies. “I’m worried about you though. What if this doesn’t work? What if you can’t save him?”

“I will, I have to.”

“Michael, what if he’s already gone?”

“Have you been talking to Isobel?” Michael snaps, his tone harsh.

“She has a point, Michael.”

“No, she doesn’t, because Alex isn’t dead. He’s not, you’re all wrong, and I’m going to save him. I’m going to fix this.”

So the shears break against his thread

And he vows, “Watch me do it anyway”

Alex has lost track of the days.

He knows that he’s been moved several times, presumably from one blacksite to another. But they stagger his meals, keep him in darkness, making it impossible for him to know where he is or how long he’s been there. It feels like it’s been months, though he knows that it hasn’t. They’ve taken his prosthetic, making it impossible to do little more than hobble from one end of his cell to the other. Flint shows up every now and then - usually when he’s about to be moved. He doesn’t say anything beyond ordering him around, and Alex stopped asking questions when he realized that he wouldn’t be getting any answers. The fact that he’s alive, however, has convinced him that they need him for something. He assumes that he’s meant to be bait for Michael and Isobel, a way to get the aliens they’re hunting to expose themselves. Alex prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that Michael doesn’t take the bait, but he knows Michael well enough to know that will never happen. Michael will come for him. Alex knows that in his bones. It’s what keeps him going, because Michael has always been what keeps him going. Despite the pain, and the bullshit, and the military, and Maria, Alex’s faith in Michael is something that never wavers.

He sleeps in fits and spurts, uncomfortable on the metal bed and thin mattress he’s been provided. They never question him, never torture him, and the endless silence has him crawling the walls. He can fight an enemy, an interrogator, but he can’t fight loneliness. He’s been trained to withstand all sorts of interrogation techniques, forms of torture, but this is difficult, the waiting. Perhaps that’s the point, he thinks. Their ultimate goal will be to drive Alex crazy in solitary. Then, Flint doesn’t get his hands dirty with his own brother’s blood. He doesn’t see his father, which gives him some measure of comfort. It means he’s most likely still in the coma that Kyle put him in, locked away in his own body and unable to hurt any of them. But Flint is still obviously following his orders, including holding the son he hates prisoner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by a distant crash, the sound of bullets. He pulls himself up and leans against the wall, his ears straining for any other sounds. It gets closer, then there’s silence until the door to his cell begins to shake. The wall groans until the door flies off the hinges, revealing Michael, his hand in mid-air. Alex feels a shaky breath escape him with a short laugh.

“About time you got here.”

“Alex.” Michael’s voice is rough and heavy with emotion as he rushes in. He pulls Alex into his arms, his face in Alex’s neck as Alex’s arms go around him instinctively, gripping his waist tightly.

“I’m here.” Alex soothes, rubbing his hands up Michael’s back. “I’m okay.” He feels Michael drag his face up his neck, then his jaw before burying his nose in Alex’s hair.

“I love you.” He whispers harshly, and Alex grips Michael tighter.

“I know.” He replies as he pulls Michael against him.

“As heartwarming as this is, we really need to get out of here.” Isobel’s voice calls from the doorway.

“They have my prosthetic.”

“On it!” Liz replies, slipping past Isobel with his prosthetic above her head like a trophy.

“I’ve got it.” Michael responds, taking his leg as Liz helps him onto the bed. He attaches it with a familiarity that makes Alex’s heart stutter in his chest. It feels strange to be wearing it again after days without it, but he and Michael follow Isobel and Liz out of the cell and through the winding hallways of whatever underground facility they’re in. Kyle and Rosa are waiting in what looks to be the main entrance, both guarding an unconscious Flint.

“What do we do with him?” Rosa asks, and Michael looks to him.

“Leave him.” Alex decides.

“He kidnapped you!” Michael argues. 

“And he’ll pay for that, but not today.”

“Let’s get out of here before more of their friends show up.” Kyle orders, and soon enough Alex is seeing daylight for the first time in however long. Maria is waiting behind the wheel of his Humvee, looking almost unrecognizable in her stolen Air Force uniform.

“How…?” Alex asks as they move to the vehicle.

“Isobel may have visited your father, forced him to admit some truths.” Michael replies, helping Alex into the backseat before Maria peels away from the blacksite. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I knew you’d come for me.” Alex leans into Michael, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Always.” is the last thing he hears from Michael before he passes out.

For the fates could never touch a love like theirs

[haloud]

any other rose

ao3

With Dad in a coma and Flint nowhere to be found, Alex takes a leave of absence from Roswell to check on the other ducks in this particular row. He goes alone, though Kyle offers to come with him, puffing his chest up like that jock he used to be, only this time it’s to protect Alex from theoretical threat, and it’s frankly fucking adorable. He doesn’t even tell Michael he’s leaving until he sends him a text at a rest area a hundred miles away to tell him he’ll be back within two days.

This is something Alex has to do for himself. He needs information, something more tangible than what he can read off his computer screen, before he declares open war. His family may be hateful to the core, maybe, maybe, but a lot can change in relatively little time, and Alex just—can’t keep walking blind not knowing who his actual enemies are.

As Flint so eloquently put it, Alex has always been the black sheep of the family. His brothers, well, they toed the line much more skillfully, and grew closer together because of it. When Alex sets out to track down his two oldest brothers, he first runs into a wall. The eldest, Harlan? His military records check out up until the very recent present, then he just disappears. Definitely concerning, but maybe he just turned into a doomsday prepper and is living in a bunker made out of nonperishable food somewhere in the Midwest.

Robert, in contrast, doesn’t appear to be hiding his tracks at all. His whole life unspools for Alex in a perfectly neat paper trail—which is funny, because Robert is the one who hasn’t spoken to anyone in the family since 2013, making the possibilities frankly endless. Deep cover? Maybe, but his credit card activity is bland and consistent every statement Alex rifles through. A fight or falling out with Dad, Harlan, or Flint? Well, Flint doesn’t have the backbone to really ‘fall out’ with anyone, and if it was a fight with Dad then the old bastard would have taken it out on the rest of them tenfold. Harlan is a distinct possibility, but what might be so bad that both of them would drop off the grid, with Robert maintaining a convincing facsimile of civilian life?

No, there are two possibilities that Alex deems actually likely.

First: Robert is as neck-deep in conspiracy, murder, and torture as Dad and Flint, and he cut off contact with the family as a minimalization of risk. If one arm of Project Shepherd gets discovered, then a manufactured estrangement offers plausible deniability that the others had no knowledge of it whatsoever.

The second possibility has Alex pacing his floor at three in the morning more nights than he’d like.

(Why? Why? The world went dark around him as he stared at his computer screen with his hand over his mouth, staring at the name of a niece he’s never met. Aubrey Alexandra Manes. Why?)

A phone call would be too much warning, would give Robert time to hide or come up with a story. So Alex just finds his address, gets in the car, and goes searching for answers. What he finds is a simple ranch house six hours out of Roswell, one with a flag hanging from the porch and a slightly overgrown yard full of soccer goals and Barbie jeeps and other childhood detritus.

Maybe Robert knew to expect him somehow; maybe he just wasn’t expecting a car in the driveway at this time of day and therefore came out to inspect it. Either way, Alex doesn’t even make it up the porch stairs before Robert opens the door and brings them face to face for the first time in a long, long time.

“Alex!”

The shock would almost be funny, if Alex wasn’t bracing for either a punch or a bullet.

“Hey, big bro,” he says, curling his mouth in a deliberate smile. “It’s been six years since I got a courtesy Christmas phone call. What’s new in your life?”

Face thunderous, Robert steps over the threshold and closes the door behind him. “Cut the crap. Believe it or not, I’ve been following your career. I know you could find out anything you wanted about me, and hell, I know you probably did. So it’s you that needs to start talking.”

Alex nods pensively. Reevaluates. Strange, to be properly estimated by a family member. It is true, though—Alex never would have gone in blind, and the research he did produce some interesting results.

Six years ago, Robert stopped coming to holidays. He stopped picking up the phone. He made polite, manly excuses whenever their dad pressed him, but he made those excuses every single time. And what did Alex find when he went looking? A birth certificate for a little girl, dated 2013; immunization forms; preschool and elementary registration; another birth certificate dated two years later. Aubrey Alexandra. So yeah, Alex knows, as if the yard cluttered with toys wasn’t enough of a clue. What he doesn’t know is why, so that’s what he’s here to find out.

“What’re their names?” Alex asks casually. He keeps his hands still at his sides, empty and loose. Not a threat. He has no interest in making Robert fear for his family, and if he’s being generous, he knows that Robert has no more reason to believe Alex isn’t working under their father’s orders than Alex has to trust him.

“Hope and Aubrey,” Robert says, the like you don’t already know hovering understood between them. He takes a step forward and shoves his hands in his pockets, shrewd soldier’s eyes scanning Alex just as much as Alex scans him. It’s a little strange, more so than Alex expected, to discover that Robert actually is a stranger now, not frozen at eighteen and stocky and mean-spirited.

Robert doesn’t move forward like he’s making threats. He presumably came outside because he felt either surprised or threatened by an unexpected vehicle in the driveway, but he isn’t even wearing a holster. Not even the suggestion of a weapon on his person. Is he the kind of military father who locks his guns away? Their dad was never that conscientious—presumably because it builds character for a little kid to accidentally shoot himself; either that or he just assumed his boys were too scared to go near anything of his. A fair assessment.

But what is a fair assessment of Robert? Maybe he just thinks girls can’t handle exposure to guns—safer parenting, to be sure, but still indicative of a toxic mindset. After all, Robert would’ve gotten suspended three times for snapping girls’ bra straps if dear old dad hadn’t intervened every single time.

“And are they why you’ve been MIA all this time?” Alex asks, point blank.

“You’re going to have to tell me why you’re here before I give you any information about my children. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Fair.” Alex holds his hands up in surrender, then lowers them as Robert takes another step his way.

“Are you here because of dad.” The question falls flat, like he doesn’t really want the answer. Robert’s face is inscrutable, his tone still thinly pleasant, but something darker lurks beneath the surface.

“In a manner of speaking.” Alex tilts his head and looks his brother up and down. Robert’s put on a little weight since the photos Alex saw from his last deployment; he’s got laugh lines around his eyes. They’re all of them getting older, but Alex—once again wrong-footed, and he’s getting increasingly frustrated with himself—Alex never expected Robert to wear his age so openly. “I’m doing a little reconnaissance. You see,” this time it’s Alex who steps forward, “Last time I saw Flint, it was in a secret torture prison our father has been running for decades, and he had a gun to my head. Harlan appears to have gone off the grid, so one can only guess what’s going on there. Which leaves…you. I thought it was high time we had a little reunion, bro.”

Genuine shock flicks over Robert’s face, and his eyes dart up and down Alex’s body as if looking for injuries. He is a military man, however, so the emotion is quickly replaced with more grim impassivity. “What kind of information are you looking for? Are you in danger right now? God damn it, Alex, my family—”

“Aren’t home at the moment, and I will happily be long gone before they get back. This is about our family, not yours. Hope won’t need to be picked up from school until 2:30, and your wife takes Aubrey to Tiny Tots ballet classes after preschool from one to three every Monday and Thursday. No one knows I’m here; if you’ve really been following my career, you know I know how to cover my tracks. I didn’t come here to make threats, Robert.”

“Then why are you here? You seem to know pretty much everything already.”

Alex feels a pang of…actual guilt at the fear lurking on Robert’s face, in his defensive posture, in the way he clenches his hands compulsively in his pockets. Rattling off his kid’s routines like that…might have been an excessive show of force, and Alex grimaces at himself. Robert is a soldier, sure, but somehow…somehow Alex forgot that not everyone has been unraveling earth-shattering revelations for the past year. He dug into Robert’s life remembering the dick who did shit like flushing his toothbrush down the toilet and dying all his clothes pink because he was ‘basically a girl anyway, right?’, and he did it expecting to find yet another monster with Alex’s same blood pumping through his veins.

He needs to remember: high school. Ten years to the left. Alex nods sharply to himself. He went about this the wrong way—it’s a reunion, not an op. If it goes poorly, he walks out of here with better knowledge of his enemy and the exact same amount of family he walked in here with. Nothing to lose.

“I just needed to see for myself, I guess. The reason why you haven’t even talked to dad in over half a decade. Or me. I don’t know about Harlan and Flint, but I’m guessing they’re getting the same treatment?”

Robert thinks for a minute, then he jerks his chin towards the rocking chairs squeezed into the corner of the narrow porch. “I’m not inviting you inside just yet, but I’ll get us some beers. We can sit out here and talk.”

Alex takes a seat in one of the rocking chairs and rests his hands on his knees. In between the two large chairs are two little ones, painted all kinds of crazy colors, sponge-stamped with bunnies and butterflies and dinosaurs. A pang of—something echoes deep in his chest. Can you be nostalgic for something you’ve never, ever had?

“Okay.”

Robert sticks a beer in Alex’s face. It’s already open; Alex sniffs it, swishes it in his mouth, holds it on the back of his tongue before swallowing. Well, if Robert was keeping undetectable poisons around on the off chance he got to slip it into Alex’s drink, he probably wouldn’t be walking around without a gun. Alex takes a real swig and waits for Robert to start talking.

His brother doesn’t look at him, just stares into the middle distance as he says, “You might remember Alanna, my wife. I think you met her a couple times.”

“Of course. Dad didn’t ‘approve of her family,’” Alex says with a thin, sarcastic smile. The real reason, of course, is that Alanna is black, but Jesse would never be so uncouth as to say something like that outright. No, it’s always dogwhistle central with that man.

Robert snorts and spits in disgust, the largest show of emotion he’s displayed since Alex pulled into the driveway. “Yeah. Fucking hell. You and I both know how deep Dad’s hatred runs. For everyone and everything that doesn’t march to his fucking tune.”

Alex folds his hands in his lap and does a terrible job of keeping the knives out of his voice. “Of course. I just wasn’t sure how you would approach the topic. Of hatred, that is, since I was the only member of the family not invited to the wedding.”

It’s surprisingly difficult to get the words out. How many times is he going to have to go through this? First with Flint, now…Robert may not have pulled a gun on him (yet), but it’s still a piece of Alex’s soul that gets chipped away bringing up this old pain. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of being the black sheep,’ Flint said, and the answer is, frankly, not fucking likely, considering the standards set by the other Manes men past and present. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to be alone, doesn’t mean he didn’t feel the lump in his throat and the pain in his chest when he saw the wedding pictures on Facebook and realized he was deliberately excluded.

Alex clenches his fists on top of his knees and gets pissed at himself for showing even that much of a reaction.

Robert cuts his eyes away, clenching his jaw. Finally, he says, “Fuck. God damn.”

“No, I get it.” Alex forces a laugh. “Couldn’t have the gay gaying up your big day. We’re not here to talk about me. Forget I brought it up.”

Shaking his head sharply, Robert says, “I’m airing old shit, and I’m doing it once, then we’re getting back on topic. I didn’t invite you to the wedding because Dad already invited himself, you had just gotten stationed far away from Roswell, and I didn’t want to put you back in his path. That’s the sum of it. End of story.”

An ugly laugh, a real one this time, busts out of Alex’s chest. God, that’s even more rich than Flint’s bullshit about protection!

“I’m serious,” Robert snaps. “’Lanna opened my eyes to a lot of shit, okay? I won’t pretend I was some kind of amazing fucking ally back then, but I wasn’t afraid of your gaying, got it?”

And Alex wants to fight back. He does. He’s still owed a fucking pound of flesh. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—Aubrey Alexandra. And it gets him back on track. It even lets him see the humor, because, come on, Robert saying gaying like that is pretty fucking funny.

“Okay. Apology accepted,” he says, one last snark because Robert never actually apologized, and the way he looks away again says he knows that. “Tell me more about Alanna.”

“Right. Well. So anyway, she knew what she was marrying. Dad gave her the fucking creeps, but she married me anyway.” He fiddles with the label of his beer and quite obviously tries not to smile. “And we did the happy family thing for a while. I was deployed; the distance was hard. She felt a lot of pressure to be the right kind of military wife, but she had zero support. I was wrapped up in myself. The missions, the medals. I was a shitty husband, a shitty partner.” He drains his beer, then stares at the bottle like its emptiness is a personal betrayal. “Between deployments, she gave me the ultimatum. Couples counseling—completely non-military—or that’s it.”

“You went to a therapist?” Alex blurts. Robert? The guy who would lurk outside the guidance counselor’s office and trip kids if they came out crying? Maybe Alex should have done a deeper dive into whether or not Robert could have had alien contact.

Robert snorts and shakes his head. “I deserve that. God I was an absolute fucking cock as a kid. And as an adult. But Alanna gave me something to fight for, and damn if she didn’t push me to fight for it. I don’t know. I didn’t understand half the crap the shrink said. But I listened. Followed orders. Not so hard.”

“But you still had some contact with dad in that time. You didn’t go radio silent until several years after you and Alanna married.”

“He’s not an easy man to say no to. When his number would come up in my phone…”

Robert’s jaw clenches hard and tight. Alex hopes he has good dental.

“I always picked up. Autopilot. But the shrink helped me realize trying to be like Dad was…well, in real terms, ruining my fucking life.”

Damn. Alex is gonna find this therapist and send an annual fruit basket.

“And then Alanna got pregnant?” he prompts; Robert nods curtly.

“Changed my whole life. Scared me shitless, too, I don’t mind telling you. I was just working out how fucked our whole upbringing was, and now it was my turn? God.”

“So that’s the story? That’s why it’s been six years since you acknowledged any of us?”

Robert looks at him dead-on for the first time since they sat down. He looks like Dad. He really does. The same squarish face, the same thin mouth, the same soldier stoicism. But there’s a softness in the next words he says that Alex never once heard come out of their father’s mouth, and it shakes something in Alex’s very core.

“I got kids of my own now, man. And I work with kids too, or around them. Eighteen, nineteen years old. And I think about how dad treated us. I’m not exposing Hope and Aubrey to that. Not ever.”

“Good reason to avoid Dad, then. But what about the rest of us? Harlan, Flint? Me?”

Shrugging, Robert says, “I talked to Harlan a while longer, since we were closest as kids. But he got weird, man, I don’t know. And Flint…ended up I couldn’t trust him one bit. If I talked to him at all, he’d hand the phone over to Dad, and I didn’t want this shit getting that messy.”

“And me?”

Aubrey Alexandra. A little slice of Alex’s world has been disorienting and surreal ever since he read that name. Aliens are one thing, but having a niece that’s carrying his name—Alex doesn’t know how to live in that world. He has to hear it out of Robert’s own mouth, this brother he didn’t know he had at all.

A huge sigh gusts out of Robert’s chest. He goes back to staring into the middle distance. It’s a long while before he says, “I told you already that I’d started realizing Dad was fucked up.”

He cuts off there like there’s something physical blocking the words, and Alex waits for him to continue.

Finally, he says, “That was a hard thing to come to terms with. I always thought Dad was what made us into men, you know? If times were hard, well, they had to be, to toughen us up. But it turns out Dad was just an abusive fuck. So then what good is any kind of lesson he ever taught us? What good is being any kind of man he’d be proud of, when I’ve got ‘Lanna and two baby girls I could be making proud instead?” He sighs heavily. “So that’s why. I wanted them to be proud of me, and there’s nothing to be proud of in the way I treated you. The way I let you be treated. I thought about calling you up, but I was too damn cowardly to dial the phone, and somewhere along the line I convinced myself it would be better if I just let you live your own life without fucking bullies sandbagging you.”

Alex takes a moment.

In that moment, Robert runs his hand over his close-shaven skull three times. He bounces his leg, stops himself, and bounces again. He brings his beer up to his mouth like he’s forgotten already that it’s empty.

And Alex just…breathes.

Flint carried his orders like absolution so he could sleep at night. With Robert being such an unknown after six years of radio silence, Alex thought he was prepared for all eventualities this reunion might come to, but turns out he wasn’t actually prepared at all. Not for the reality of the two little rocking chairs, allowed to be bright and clumsy. Not for a version of his brother that sees the world with open eyes.

“You going to say anything?” Robert finally says gruffly.

“I saw Aubrey’s birth certificate when I researched you.” Alex swallows and tries to wet his throat with the beer, but it’s gone flat. Ugh. Still, he won’t back down. “Aubrey Alexandra.” Saying the name out loud chokes him up, just a little bit, and he forces it back down like he learned to do a long time ago. “You could have just called me.”

Robert ducks his head to hide his own too-bright eyes, and that sheepish, honest gesture cracks deep in Alex’s chest to feed some very small, very young part of him.

“Yeah,” Robert mumbles. “I know I should’ve—asked you. Or just not. But I was all emotional ‘n shit. It felt right at the time.”

“All right.” Alex shoves his emotion unceremoniously aside. He has the information he came for, so it’s once more time for action. The fact is that no matter how skilled Alex is at covering his tracks, his presence has the possibility of putting Robert’s family in danger. Until Dad is dealt with for good; until Flint and Harlan are neutralized; Alex can’t be a part of his brother’s life, or his wife’s, or the lives of his nieces.

Something else to fight for, then. As if he needed more motivation.

Alex gets swiftly to his feet, and Robert mirrors the motion.

“You’re leaving?” He blurts out, and something like grief, chased by acceptance, runs across his face. God, Alex almost wants to do a double take every time he sees honest emotion in eyes like those. But it’s time he gave credit where credit is due.

“I should,” Alex says. “I promised I wouldn’t put your family in danger before I heard your story, and I intended to keep that promise no matter what you said to me. But now it is imperative that you listen.”

He puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder for what may be the first time in their entire lives. Robert swallows.

Alex says, “Do not change a single thing about your routine. Do not tell anyone I’ve been here. When it’s safe, I will contact you—and at that time, it’s your decision if you want me in your children’s lives or not.”

He can see every single question in Robert’s face. Pride and anger tense him up, but, miracle of miracles, Alex also gets to watch him let them go.

Fruit basket. Seriously. Maybe an Edible Arrangement, for the actual miracle worker.

“How much danger are you in?” Is all Robert demands, voice still gruff with emotion.

“No more than usual. Don’t you know I love to live dangerously?” Alex says breezily, but Robert doesn’t unclench. Great, just what he needs—another person in his life taking his safety seriously when there are things that need to get done. Alex gives a fond roll of his eyes and lets his hand fall off Robert’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says, honestly, as Robert follows him off the porch and to his car.

“Pretty sure you don’t get to thank me for anything ever. I basically owe you for life.”

“Well, then, get started on your debt and give me that ‘you’re welcome’ you owe me just now.”

“You’re welcome.” He hesitates, swallows a couple times. Then he raps the top of Alex’s car and chokes out: “Drive safe, kid.”

Alex drives home in a different world than the one he drove up in. He barely notices the miles fly by, and when he gets home to Roswell, everything still looks the same, no matter how impossible that is.

Still, life goes on. A week later, a letter comes for him at the base. The return address makes him furious—how’s Robert made it this long if he can’t follow a simple order for his own good?—but he can’t hold onto that anger as soon as he sees what’s inside.

The thick envelope contains three sheets of paper and a fridge magnet—just a generic #1 Uncle! design, but it still hits him hard right in the chest. The first page of the letter is covered in small, need script he doesn’t recognize—Alanna’s, most likely. The next page he unfolds is covered in a child’s deliberate print, and he puts that aside too, gently, reverently, so he can read it later and savor every word. The last page is covered in drawings, big and bright; god, he’s gotten more medals than he knows what to do with, but he’s never felt as honored as he does now by the fact that clearly Aubrey busted out a brand-new pack of markers for this. And the magnet—he’s going to put these on his fridge, like that’s something that exists in his life—and now it does, this part of his family he thought was closed off to him forever.

And his world is different now. A little brighter, a little bigger, a little fuller.

Now all he has to do is protect it.

[pastelwitchling]

Journey to the Past

read on ao3

This was meant to be part of my one-shot collection, it turned out to be too long, and now it’s a separate fic. If you enjoy reading even a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference ❤

Michael woke to find he’d fallen asleep at Alex’s bedside. Before anything, he sat up, checked to see if Alex’s eyes hadn’t fluttered, if he wasn’t finally waking from his coma, but his hand remained perfectly still in Michael’s, the heart monitor echoed steadily into the otherwise empty room and echoing off Max’s bedroom walls.

They would’ve taken him to the hospital, but since the attack that did this to him had been by his father’s rogue Project Shepherd agents, they couldn’t risk leaving him in a room that any enemy could access. At least here, Isobel and Michael could set up forcefields around the grounds. At least here, Max could strike anybody that came too close with lightning and they could blame it on the weather. At least here, Michael could cling to Alex and no one would bother him about it.

Michael wasn’t Alex’s boyfriend, he knew. Alex’s actual boyfriend – or his ex, that is, as of two weeks ago – was back in New York, unaware that the man he’d fallen so deeply and treacherously in love with had fallen victim to his father’s pissed off and ridiculously loyal minions.

Michael followed the bruises on Alex’s jaw and cheeks with his eyes, the cut on his lower lip, visible under the thick respirator. There was a stitched up gash in his forehead, and his knuckles on his right hand were scraped and bloody from the fight he’d given the attackers. He’d fended most of them off, before Michael had arrived to blow the rest of them into the walls and knock them out, but not before one of them had managed a stray shot in and got Alex in the stomach.

Max had done his best to heal him, but the bullets had been laced with yellow pollen. Jesse Manes’ last attempt to kill his youngest son, apparently, had followed him out the grave.

Michael shut his eyes against the thought, and instinctively gripped Alex’s hand tighter. He didn’t want to think about Project Shepherd and what they’d intended. They’d failed, and that was all that mattered. His grip turned painful on Alex’s hand. They’d failed.

A knock came at the door, but Michael did not look away from Alex’s face. He heard Max’s voice from the end of the room ask, “How’re you holding up?”

“Why isn’t he awake yet?” Michael demanded. “You said he’d be awake by now.”

“No,” Max sighed, and closed the door behind him. “I said Kyle hoped he’d be awake by now.”

“It’s been two days.”

“We’re doing everything we can –”

“Well, it’s not enough!” Michael snapped, and the room collapsed back into silence.

“He’ll wake up,” Max promised him. “He will. Just give him some time.”

“I need him,” Michael whispered.

“I know –”

“No,” he growled. “I need him.” He rubbed his face roughly with one hand. “Where’s Is?”

“Outside,” he said. “Why?” When Michael didn’t answer, Max’s shoulders slumped and his frown deepened. “Michael, no.”

“I know we said there were risks –”

“Risks?” he scoffed. “I already told you it’s too dangerous to go digging through Alex’s head! Isobel told you it’s dangerous!”

Michael stood. “Valenti said his brain waves are normal, he’s just asleep. If I can find the part of him that doesn’t want to wake up, then – then I get him back.”

“Or you guys screw something up,” Max argued, “and change something that can’t be changed back.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “He won’t wake up, not like this, and I can’t just sit here and wait.”

“Michael,” Max tried, purposely calming his voice in that way when he knew Michael was seconds away from blowing up and wanted to ease him back down. “Listen to me. I know you’re worried about him, but if you go into his mind, you could make things worse.”

Michael swallowed. Max was right, he knew Max was right. But he remembered Kyle’s voice when he’d hoped Alex would wake up soon. He had been too quiet, his eyes downcast like he was praying and didn’t want the others to know it was that bad.

He had no idea that when it came to Alex, Michael paid attention. Only when it came to Alex.

“If I do nothing,” he said, “Alex stays asleep.” His fingers curled to fists at his sides at the thought. He looked back at Alex, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed softly. His unmoving fingers and closed eyes.

Michael sniffed, and decided, “If Alex doesn’t wake up by tomorrow morning, I’m going in to wake him up myself.”

 They waited until the next morning, then noon. Michael had been ready to start at dawn, but Kyle had seemed anxious, and Max argued for “Just a couple more hours, Michael, he’s the doctor here!”

Michael had argued that Alex didn’t need a human doctor, and Kyle had argued that Alex was human, so who else was going to treat him?

Michael forgot that sometimes; that Alex wasn’t actually an alien like him, that he didn’t have any superpowers like the others did. He’d just always seemed so strong and intelligent that it slipped Michael’s mind. But Alex was human, and more fragile than Michael allowed himself to believe. He’d been too careless, too willing to ask for Alex’s help fixing this or fixing that without ever considering what he might’ve been doing to him. What it might cost.

Maybe that was why Michael was so eager to go into Alex’s mind already and wake him up. It was time for him to save Alex for a change.

“Just for the record,” Isobel said, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You deal with brains all the time,” Michael argued.

“Not like Kyle,” she insisted. “And not memories. It’s like . . . time travelling! If you touch something in the past, you could change the future forever!” She swallowed. “And Alex is . . . he’s too important.”

She didn’t need to say the words for Michael to know what she was thinking. He’s too important to you, she seemed to be telling Michael. If I hurt him, it’ll break you, and I could never forgive myself for that.

Michael took her hand. “You’re gonna do great,” he said resolutely. “If anyone can do this, you can.”

Her brows pinched, unconvinced, but Michael didn’t have any more time for doubt or hesitation. Alex hadn’t woken up in too long, and his nerves were fraying with every passing second.

“Do it,” he said.

Isobel glanced hesitantly at Kyle. Kyle looked to Alex, as if weighing the damage that they could do, but even he must’ve known that Alex being asleep for this long was abnormal, because he looked to Isobel and nodded, clearly unhappy about it.

“Be careful,” Max warned. “For your sakes, and his.”

Isobel’s hand on Michael’s tightened, and she shut her eyes. Michael kept his gaze on Alex for as long as he could. Then he felt a sudden chill shoot throughout his entire body from his hand, and he inhaled sharply. One second he was looking at Alex’s sleeping figure, and the next, the world around him turned to smoke, and he found himself standing in the desert on a bright, sunny day.

He was still holding Isobel’s hand, but nothing looked familiar. There was just desert and gray-steel buildings built high with tall glass windows, clustered like boulders in the sea.

In the distance, he could see uniformed soldiers, marching in formation. Men and women training, sergeants barking orders, laughter from friends somewhere hidden. Where were they?

“What the hell?” he muttered, looking around. He didn’t recognize the area at all.

Isobel shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Alex?”

Michael turned and found they were inches from a doorway that opened to a large, steel room. There was a raised platform at the very opposite end, and several soldiers fighting, sparring, exercising – but Michael couldn’t see any of them.

Isobel gasped. “Michael,” she pointed. “Isn’t that Alex?”

Michael had already spotted him. He was on the platform, fighting another young man. But even before Isobel and Michael approached him, Michael knew this was a much younger Alex. He looked barely eighteen, his hair having lost its spike and was cut short, he was throwing punches and kicks in a way that seemed very unnatural for the man who hardly had to raise a finger to induce fear. And he was losing. Badly.

“I don’t think anybody can see us,” Isobel murmured, looking around at the other soldiers as they passed. “Or hear us.”

Michael’s eyes were on Alex. His heart was hammering, beating painfully against his ribs with every beating Alex took, every time his body fell to the floor. His opponent delivered a roundhouse kick that had Alex on his face again, and Michael snapped. He held a hand up to blast the other fighter back, but his powers wouldn’t work.

“Are you crazy?!” Isobel hissed, slapping his arm. “You can’t change anything, remember?”

“Literally,” Michael spat, hoping Alex’s opponent could feel his glares. “My telekinesis isn’t working.”

Isobel looked around before her eyes focused on another soldier who was doing pushups. Her brows furrowed for barely half a second, then she winced and put a hand to her temple.

Michael tugged on her hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s taking all of my power for us to just be here,” she sighed. “My other powers won’t work either.” She frowned. “What’s he doing?”

Michael followed her gaze, and saw that Alex, beaten and bloody, was slowly pushing himself to his feet with trembling arms.

“His face is covered in blood,” Isobel shook her head. “He needs to stay down!”

Michael guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Alex so resolved to stay on his feet. His hair was plastered to his temples with blood and sweat, his breaths were quick and short, like his chest ached, but his shoulders were straight and his eyes were filled with a fiery anger. Alex was looking at his opponent like he was every other person who’d ever beat him down and ordered him to stay there. He was screaming, without any words at all, that he wouldn’t.

It didn’t seem to matter to the opponent as he threw hit after hit, hurting Alex again and again, making Michael flinch and burn with rage every time.

When the fight was over, the other soldiers jeering and eager to start their own training match next, Alex’s opponent crouched down beside him and whispered, loud enough for Michael and Isobel to hear, as though they were in Alex’s place themselves –

“Nobody cares who your daddy and brothers are, Manes,” the opponent sneered with disgust. “Your kind will never survive here.”

Michael clenched his jaw. He felt Alex’s anger, his frustration, his grief. He’d often wondered what happened to Alex after he’d enlisted, how a soldier trained and what that did to them, whether it was hurting Alex the same way.

No one offered Alex a hand, no one knew what to make of this lesser Manes. Michael wanted to kill them all for hurting him, for pushing him down. Alex, on the other hand, seemed to see things differently.

With all the charge of that emo kid from high school, Alex groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He spat the blood in his mouth out, and wiped his forearm against his nose. His eyes were dry, his expression unreadable, but that same anger stayed.

More than a few soldiers looked surprised and even impressed, but Alex, already walking away, didn’t notice.

The scene changed.

Before Michael could blink, they were outside again. A cursory look around told them they were behind the building this time, where rocks and stray blades of grass grew out. Alex was sitting against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. In the distance, soldiers marched on, but nobody seemed to see Alex as he cried.

He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him.

Michael glanced at Isobel, and saw her eyes were wide and sympathetic. Alex wiped the tears away faster than they could fall. He sniffled, and pulled a picture out of his pocket, hiding it between his eyes and knees, a secret for no one else.

“I’m sorry,” Alex sniffled again, and wiped his cheek on his shoulder. “I’m trying not to. I’m getting better at it. Not that I think you’d be disappointed that I cried, I just . . . don’t want to cry in front of anybody else. Never again.”

Michael and Isobel each went to a different side of Alex to see whose picture he was talking to, all the while Michael trying not to scrunch up with the uncomfortable thought that Alex had taken enough comfort in someone else that he would sneak a photo of them into base, even back then.

When he saw the picture, he froze. Isobel breathed, “Oh my god . . .,” and Michael had to kneel down next to Alex. It was a picture of them – him and Alex – similar to the picture he had in his airstream. Except this one was taken at a different angle, and they were smiling at each other, taken in the exact moment Alex had noticed Michael watching him play guitar, and the two had laughed, giddy at being so close together and knowing what they knew about their feelings for one another.

Michael tried to breathe, but a lump lodged itself in his throat. Alex had kept a picture of them with him when he’d first gone to the base, and he pulled it out whenever he needed strength and comfort. All this time, he’d thought Alex hadn’t thought twice about him . . .

“I’m scared, Guerin,” Alex confessed to the picture, his grip on the edges tightening. “I don’t – I don’t know what to do. I’m not strong enough to be here. I don’t want to be here.” His lower lip trembled. “But that’s why you started to pull away, right? I was too weak to protect you . . .”

“No,” Michael breathed, shaking his head. “No, please, don’t say that, please.”

“That’s why Alex enlisted?” Isobel said. “Because his dad hit you?”

“It was after Rosa,” Michael croaked, eyes on Alex. “Everything changed, and I . . . I could never tell him what happened. But he – he thought . . . I didn’t know he thought . . .”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex cried, hiding his face with one hand. “I’m trying not to cry, I swear I’m trying. I just miss you so much, Guerin. You’re the only person that’s ever felt like home to me, and now I’m here, and I’m more lost than ever.” He exhaled shakily. “All I wanted was a goodbye. I keep thinking about the way I left. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Isobel’s own eyes were glassy. “Michael?”

“I didn’t want to,” he whispered in response to her silent question. “I didn’t want to say goodbye. It felt like I would never see him again if I did.” He clenched his jaw. He tried to press his forehead to Alex’s temple, to inhale his scent, but he couldn’t feel Alex at all. He could only watch him suffer.

“The last thing I ever said to him before he left was –” he scowled at the bile in his throat “—that I’d be better off if he left. I was just angry, and – and hurt!” he tried. “I didn’t mean it!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly, pulling her eyes off Alex. “It’s in the past, Michael. That’s what all of this stuff is. Memories. You know Alex now, you know what he thinks of you. He loves you.”

Michael shook his head. “That’s not what hurts, Is.”

“Then what does?”

“It’s that he loved me this much even back then.”

“Private Manes,” a voice sounded, and Alex gasped just quickly enough for Michael to catch it before he was on his feet, straight as a board.

Michael looked up and found none other than Sergeant Ramos, Alex’s mysterious leader who’d come to Roswell a mere few weeks ago. The man Alex had looked up to and smiled around and trusted. The man who seemed more Alex’s father than Jesse Manes had ever been.

Sergeant Ramos, looking about twelve years younger, raised a brow at Alex’s right hand which was subtly pushing the photo back into its hiding place in his pocket.

He tilted his head at Alex. “You’re the new kid, right? Jesse’s youngest. Alec?”

“Alex Manes, sir,” Alex said loudly, coherently. Like a soldier.

“Alex,” he nodded. “You miss your friend, Alex?”

Alex faltered. “Sir?”

“Your friend,” he nudged his chin at Alex’s pocket. “In the picture.” His eyes were meaningful when he said, “You must’ve been very close.”

Alex swallowed. It was no use trying to hide the panic in his eyes. He’d just come back from his father’s house, he was too used to being afraid. He hadn’t spent a decade learning to hide that fear.

“Is he the reason you’re here?”

Alex raised his chin. “I’m here to be stronger, sir!”

Ramos smiled, like he knew something Alex didn’t. “You seemed plenty strong to me up on that platform, Private.”

Alex frowned. “I was . . . losing, sir.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, you were getting back up. No matter what he hit you with.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “I don’t like bullies, sir.”

“Did a bully hurt your friend there?” he asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

Alex said nothing, and Michael could see the questions in the furrow of his brow. What would happen to him if a sergeant discovered he was gay? Would he report him to Jesse?

Ramos sighed and looked around. “If you don’t know why you’re here,” he said, “you won’t last long, I can guarantee you that. You know where you are?”

Alex blinked, confused. “The – the US Air Force Base?”

“Are you asking me?”

He straightened. “The US Air Force Base, sir!”

“You ever been in a plane?” he asked. “Ever seen what we see up there?”

Alex hesitated, then shook his head. He quickly caught himself and said, “No, sir!”

Ramos hummed, then patted Alex’s shoulder once, hard enough to make Alex stumble. “All right, follow me! I’m about to show you the few good things about being out in this godforsaken desert.”

Alex followed as he was supposed to, though doubt never left his face. He seemed convinced that there was nothing good about being out here.

Michael and Isobel exchanged a glance before they quickly followed. Michael stayed close to Alex and reached for his hand several times, until they passed right through each other and Alex hardly seemed aware of him.

They went into a hangar with several smaller planes inside, and Alex tensed just for a moment at the sight of them all before he realized Ramos was leading him to a little aircraft at the far right of the room.

“Stay with me, Guerin,” Alex suddenly whispered, his eyes wide and betraying some fear. Michael looked to him, surprised, but realized that Alex was just talking to himself. His hand covered his pocket where his picture of him and Michael was, and with a deep, shaking sigh, he followed Ramos to the plane.

When Alex got close enough, Ramos tossed him a helmet. “Hop in, kid!”

Alex swallowed. He looked like he wanted to stutter an excuse not to, but he gripped his pocket tightly and nodded once, putting on the helmet.

“Oh my god,” Isobel said with a smirk tugging at her lips as realization dawned. “You’re like his good luck charm.”

Michael swallowed, though he definitely didn’t want to smile. When did it stop? When did Alex realize that he wasn’t good luck at all? When had he stopped needing him?

Before Michael and Isobel could say anything else, they both ended up in the backseat of the little aircraft, Ramos and Alex in the front, the plane on a wide stretch of road. Michael didn’t know if this aircraft had initially fit two people in the back, but it was like the memory warped and changed for them to be able to follow.

“We’re tied to Alex,” Isobel told him. Despite the roar of the engine, they heard each other, and the other two passengers, perfectly. “We’ll keep getting tugged along with him.”

Alex gripped the edge of his seat tightly as the plane took off into the air. Michael could hear his gasp, his eyes wanting to close but unwilling to do it in front of his sergeant. They rose high to the clouds, Alex’s knuckles white. Michael wanted more than anything to reach for him, to hold and comfort him, but this Alex was on his own. He’d never had Michael there as Michael had had Max and Isobel. It was just him, alone, with nothing but a picture to comfort him.

“Better hold onto somethin’,” Ramos laughed and pulled up high above the clouds.

What they saw knocked the breath out of their lungs. High above a bed of white, the sun shined brightly, turning the sky around it to gold and pink and purple and blue. It looked like the color of their spaceship surrounding them.

The sunlight hit Alex’s wide eyes, and Michael watched him breathing quickly, emotions turning from fear to shock to grief to wonder to amazement to grief and shock again. He could’ve done anything in that moment. He could’ve cried, could’ve screamed. Instead he smiled, a surprised burst of laughter escaping his lips.

He held up his hands and yelled, “WOOOOOOO!” and Ramous laughed harder. Isobel couldn’t help but laugh along, and Michael couldn’t look away from Alex. The bright sunlight had turned his tear-filled eyes to crystal green, and if Ramos noticed his crying, he didn’t say anything. Alex just laughed and ran his hands through his hair, marveling at the sight before him, as if he’d never expected that such a beautiful treasure could be right over his head this whole time.

After they’d come back down, Ramos handed Alex his half of a ham and cheese sandwich. “Every year,” he told him, “I look at new recruits, try to decide if there are any worth keeping an eye out for. This year, that’s you.”

Alex blinked. “Why me?”

“Because a soldier who can start a battle is a dime a dozen,” he said simply. “I need the kind of person who can win them. I think I can make you captain in record’s time.” He raised a brow, and finished his sandwich in one bite. “Would that be something you would want?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “That would outrank my dad – er – Sergeant Manes.”

“Yes,” Sergeant Ramos said slowly, as though he’d just figured out the bully’s name. “It would. He would have to answer to you.”

Alex’s cheeks were red, but his expression fierce and hopeful. “You can really make me captain, sir?”

“If it’s what you want,” he said. “If it’s the kind of person you want to be. But you ‘aint gonna get it getting beaten down the way you do.”

“I’m – I’m trying –”

“Trying is for excuses,” he said. “‘Round here, you do. If you want to outrank your old man, there’s only one way to do it, Manes. I can train you, but the work’s gotta come from you. What do you think?” He tilted his head. “How far are you willing to go to be the stronger one?”

The look on Alex’s face said it all. He would become whatever he had to, do whatever needed doing. He had enemies, and he wanted them to burn.

The picture changed. It was like walking through a film, memories too blurred and passing now for Michael and Isobel to cling to.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked Isobel, and she shook her head.

“Alex doesn’t clearly remember any of this stuff,” she said, “so we can’t see it any better than he can.”

They saw Alex get older, training harder, running faster, shooting better than anybody else around him. They saw him rise in ranks quickly, uniformed men pinning medals to his chest, congratulating him. Alex laughing with a team of his own, men with muscles larger than Michael’s head, following him like he was their hero.

The memory then stopped, and Michael and Isobel found themselves in a hospital hallway.

Isobel shivered and clung to Michael’s arm. “What is this?” she asked. “Where are we?”

Michael looked around, and pointed at a familiar man pacing along the wall, his thumb pressed to his lower lip.

“Gregory?” Isobel blinked. “What’s he doing here?”

A doctor stepped out, and Gregory was on him in an instant. “How is he?” he demanded at once.

The doctor sighed. It sounded sad. Gregory’s face fell, anguish overtaking his expression. “We did all we could,” he said, “but we couldn’t save the leg.”

Isobel gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “No,” she breathed. “I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to see this.”

Michael couldn’t hear anything else she said. He was watching Alex who was sitting up in bed, staring numbly at the ceiling. Michael went inside and stood at Alex’s bedside. He did not look at the sheets and what they revealed.

“Private,” he whispered, leaning in as close as he could without touching Alex. “Can you hear me?”

Alex said nothing. He didn’t look down or move. The circles around his eyes were dark. He slowly reached over to the tray beside his bed where a few of his belongings sat in an opened plastic bag, and took something out. It was a picture, his picture of him and Michael, tattered around the edges and stained with specs of blood on the back. He hugged it against his chest as a tear wordlessly rolled down his cheek, though he remained expressionless.

“Alex,” Gregory came in. He looked over Alex’s missing right leg, and swallowed thickly. “Hey,” he brushed his hair back from his face. Alex was either half-asleep or still filled with anesthetic. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Michael knew Alex could, that he remembered this moment perfectly, or he and Isobel would never have been able to see it.

Alex’s lips tugged up in half a sad smile, his brows furrowed as another tear fell down the bridge of his nose. “He’ll think I’m broken now. He’s so beautiful, he’d . . . he’d never love me like this.”

Michael stepped back, feeling like he’d been shot. Alex had kept the picture. Alex had thought Michael wouldn’t love him without his leg. Even now, after all these years, he’d kept the photo of them together. Even now, Michael was still his comfort.

The scene changed.

“I’m getting dizzy,” Isobel groaned. “Where are we now? It looks like Alex’s house, doesn’t it?”

It did. It was night, and they were right in Alex’s driveway, the trees lit with fairy lights, and there sat Michael, or a previous version of Michael, on the bed of his truck.

Michael’s heart fell into his stomach. “No,” he breathed. He remembered this.

“Whoa,” Isobel looked between Michael and Memory Michael. “It’s like Inception.”

“No, please, no,” Michael whispered as Alex pulled up. He stepped out and saw Michael shaking his head.

“What?” he asked in that cute way Michael had never admitted to.

“Pick another memory,” Michael told Isobel. “Any other memory!”

“I can’t control where we go!” Isobel said. “Why? What happens here, Michael?”

Michael pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes as Alex’s plea to help him find out more about his mom sounds in his ears. Then Michael’s own cruel words, “I like Maria, okay?”

Isobel’s hand tightened on Michael’s. “Oh.”

Michael was about to say something, though he didn’t know what, when the image before them blurred. It didn’t go away, it just faded to darkness.

“What’s happening?” Michael asked Isobel.

Isobel’s brows were furrowed. “It’s Alex,” she said. “He – he stopped paying attention.”

Michael swallowed thickly as the colors ran around him. Then he and Isobel were in Alex’s living room as Alex came in. It was right after Michael had left his house.

Alex sat down on the couch, staring off into the distance. He pulled off his cap, and his arm fell limp to his side. Slowly, Alex let his head fall back against the wall, and he stared at the ceiling, the same numb expression on his face as when he’d woken up to losing his leg. Any pretense of being fine or indifferent to Michael’s confession was gone.

Alex sniffled, then straightened. His eyes were dry. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out that same picture of him and Michael. He stared at it for a long time, but he didn’t say anything.

“He kept it,” Isobel breathed. “All this time, he’s loved you so much.”

“I didn’t –” Michael croaked, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”

He’d thought Alex didn’t care who he was with. Then he thought to the way Alex’s eyes had fallen time and time again; in his driveway, his backyard, outside Michael’s airstream over and over and over again. Never surprised, just afraid that his suspicions had been right. That he was too broken for Michael to love anymore.

Alex lied down with a deep sigh that sounded frighteningly like resignation, his hand with the picture hanging off the couch. Slowly, his jaw clenched, Alex let the picture flutter out of his fingers and to the floor. He turned over to his other side and closed his eyes. He didn’t pick the picture up again.

“Alex . . .” Michael whispered, but before he could try reaching for Alex, the picture changed again, and he and Isobel were standing next to Alex in front of a short building. Kids played outside and elders swept their front porch.

Isobel leaned her weight against Michael. He put an arm around her waist. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. I don’t think I can keep this up much longer, Michael. We have to find the broken part here, fast.”

Michael looked Alex over. “I think we’re getting there. Wasn’t this what he was wearing the day he was ambushed?”

Isobel straightened, eyes narrowed. She gasped. “Kyle told me Alex had gone to visit his mom that morning! He called on his way to the bunker, and –”

“That’s where they got him,” Michael growled, his hands turned to fists at the thought. “We’re close.”

As if hearing the urgency in their voices, a woman opened the door to greet Alex. She had Alex’s dark eyes, dark hair, and kind smile.

“My baby,” Alex’s mother pulled him in for a hug. Alex hugged her back just as tightly.

“Hey, mom,” he said. He sounded exhausted.

His mother quickly noticed and her smile faltered. She cupped his cheek. “Okay, baby, come in. Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

That was how they found themselves minutes later, seated in a small but comfy living room with plush floral couches, Michael and Isobel on each side of Alex as he and his mother nursed hot cups of tea.

“What’s going on?” Alex’s mother said. “Why do you look like that?”

Alex scoffed halfheartedly, “Are you saying I look bad?”

She brushed his hair back from his eyes. “My son is the handsomest in the world.” She brought her hand to his chin and lifted his head. “So why is he so upset?”

“I’m not upset, mom,” he said, smiling weakly. “I’m just . . . so tired.” His smile fell away and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a sip of his tea and set the mug down. He rubbed his hands together. “When you called last night, I told you everything was fine. I lied, mom.”

She nodded, like this didn’t surprise her in the slightest. “I know.” She tilted her head, and softly asked, “Is it your breakup? I thought you were okay with that.”

“I was,” Alex shook his head, eyes shut. “I – I am, but I . . .” He sighed and pulled something out of his pocket. He huffed a miserable chuckle. “I tried to burn it. I couldn’t.”

She took the picture from him, and Isobel gasped softly. It was the same one Alex had had of him and Michael for all of these years. He’d never gotten rid of it. Michael had never stopped being a comfort to him. Until, apparently, now.

Realization dawned on Alex’s mother’s face. “This boy. What was his name again?”

Alex rubbed his face. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters anymore. Forrest and I broke up, and he still won’t tell me anything.”

She frowned. “I thought you said you loved each other?”

Alex nodded. “I used to believe that.” He sighed shakily. “Not anymore.” He chuckled sadly, and covered his face with his hands. “I’m so tired, mom. I’m so tired of – of excuses and being afraid and – and being brave just to find out that it makes no difference. It’s not enough. I’m not enough.”

“Alex,” Alex’s mother looked horrified at her son’s words. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to,” Alex confessed in a whisper. “He showed me. He told Maria he loved her.”

Isobel’s eyes were wide. “Michael, you what?” she demanded. “Why would you lie like that?”

“I was scared,” he said, his eyes on Alex. “I wanted to hold onto something easy.”

But he didn’t know this was what he’d been doing to Alex. That he was hurting him this badly, all to date someone he’d never actually wanted to date. Michael looked at the dark circles around Alex’s eyes, his hollow cheeks, his tousled hair, and wondered how long it had been since Alex had eaten or slept.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Alex said. “I’d always hoped that . . . that we’d end up together. But it’s not something he wants anymore. If he ever wanted it at all.” His eyes shut tight. “I can’t keep clinging to bread crumbs, mom, I don’t want to.”

His mom looked concerned, but she took Alex’s hands in both of hers and said steadily, “Alex, what’re you trying to say? You can tell me.”

Alex exhaled shakily, and lifted his gaze to his mother’s. “Mom, I’ve thought about this a lot. I’ve thought about it since he and Maria first started . . .” he clenched his jaw and looked away, like just the thought of Michael and Maria together pained him. Finally, he said, “I’m leaving Roswell.”

“No,” Michael breathed.

“And I’m not coming back this time.”

“NO!” Michael stood. “Alex, you can’t leave!”

“Michael,” Isobel tried. “He can’t hear you.”

“Alex can’t leave me,” he shook his head. “He can’t.”

“I can’t see him anymore,” Alex said. “I can’t pretend he still loves me. It hurts too much.”

Despite Isobel’s protests, Michael leaned over Alex and grabbed his arms. He kept going through him.

“Alex, look at me!” he demanded. “I’m right here, look at me!”

Alex flinched just as Michael’s hands collided with his arms, grabbing onto him. He could feel Alex, and Alex could feel him.

Alex looked startled, his mother’s voice was gone. Everyone’s voices were gone but Michael’s, Isobel’s, and Alex’s. The world around them was turning to black as Alex searched the air in front of him, as if looking for the source of the sound.

“He can hear me,” Michael muttered, eyes wide. “He can – he can hear me!”

Alex’s eyes fell onto Michael’s, and his brows furrowed. “Guerin?”

“This is it,” Isobel stood. “This is the faulty memory! The part where Alex’s brain is screwed up and is keeping him asleep!”

“Isobel?” Alex blinked. He tried to stand with Michael clinging to him. Michael was afraid that if he let go of this memory, Alex would disappear from him for good. “What’re you guys doing here, what is all this?”

They were standing in darkness. Nothingness upon nothingness.

“You were attacked,” Isobel told him, “by Project Shepherd agents.”

“You’ve been in a coma for three days,” Michael said. “We couldn’t get you to wake up, we had to come into your mind, try to wake you from here.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Alex shook his head. “Attacked? Coma? None of this makes any sense!”

“Remember!” Michael demanded. “Remember! This is just a memory, the real you knows what happened! Remember, Alex!”

Alex looked shocked, doubtful, disbelieving. Then something in his expression slotted together. “I was – I was at the bunker . . . the door was open . . . it all happened so fast.” He blinked, and gasped. “A gunshot. Someone – someone shot me.” He frantically patted down his stomach, looking for the wound, but he wouldn’t find it in a memory. He looked back to Isobel, then Michael. “You’re telling the truth.”

“You have to fight it, Alex,” Isobel urged. She leaned forward on her knees and huffed, like just breathing was getting tiresome for her. “You have to want to wake up.”

“Want to wake up?”

“Yeah,” Michael cupped his jaw. “Come on, baby. Wake up for me,” he breathed. “I miss you, please wake up for me.”

Alex searched his face, then said, “No.”

Michael faltered. “N-No?”

“No,” Alex tried pulling his arms out of Michael’s grasp, but Michael held on. “Guerin, I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to? Alex, this is your life we’re talking about –”

“My life?” he laughed. It sounded so sad. “What life, Guerin? The one where the man I love won’t say two nice words to me? The one where my friends don’t think twice about what their decisions might do to me? Where my own brother tried to kill me because I got in his way?”

Alex shook his head. “No, Guerin. No. I’ve been tired for a long time, and I want to rest now.”

Michael gripped his arms harder. “You think I don’t know the real you?” he demanded. “You think I don’t know that you’ve had hope for us even when I didn’t? You think I don’t know that no matter what you say, you’ll believe in us whether you want to or not? We’re cosmic, Alex, this won’t kill us, and you know it won’t. If you don’t wake up, I’ll just come after you again, you know I will.”

Isobel stared, shocked. “Michael . . .”

His grip on Alex turned painfully tight. “I’ve never trusted anything, Alex. I’m not like you, I can’t see the good even when everything just feels bad. But I trust you. If you don’t wake up, I’ll die.” He shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips as a tear rolled down his cheek. “And you won’t let me. I believe that.”

His grip loosened.

“What’re you doing?” Alex said, though he seemed to already know the answer.

“I’m trusting you to come back to me,” Michael said, his whole body trembling. “Because you always do.”

“Michael,” Isobel warned, “if you let him go now, we might lose him for good.”

Michael smirked, and a tear fell down Alex’s face. “I’m not letting you go,” Michael told Alex. “I can’t.”

“Guerin,” Alex tried, but Michael was already straightening, bracing himself.

“You’ll come back,” he said, sure of this more than anything else.

Without another word, he let go of Alex, and a sudden wind hit his face. Then he blinked, and he was back in Max’s bedroom. He and Isobel both broke apart and fell to the ground.

“Oh my god,” Kyle gasped somewhere in the distance and helped Isobel up while Max came to Michael’s side.

“You guys have been frozen for hours!” he said, pulling Michael to his feet. “What happened?”

“Michael had Alex,” Isobel said, and looked to her brother. “Why?” she demanded. “Michael, after what he told us –”

“What?” Kyle said, looking between them. “Told you what?”

Michael lumbered out of Max’s hold and took his place at Alex’s bedside again, taking his hand in his. “Come on, Alex,” he begged in a whisper. “Come on. Come back to me.”

“He said . . . he said . . .”

“It doesn’t matter!” Michael snapped, and Isobel fell silent. “He’ll wake up. He will. Come on, baby,” he murmured into Alex’s hand. “Come on.”

The minutes ticked by in silence, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

“Michael,” Isobel said quietly. “He’s not going to wake up.”

“Yes, he will,” Michael said at once, his grip on Alex’s hand bruising. “He will.”

“Just give him a minute,” he heard Kyle say. He must’ve been clinging to that hope just as desperately as Michael was.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “Come on, Alex. Stay with me.”

A moment. Two. Michael’s eyes burned, and his hands started to tremble. Then he felt it; he felt Alex’s fingers move in his.

He gasped, and waited. Alex moved again.

Kyle pointed at one of the monitors. “Brain activity’s increasing!” he all but yelled. “Alex?”

They looked to Alex, waiting, waiting, waiting. Then Alex’s eyes fluttered open, and a sob escaped Michael’s lips before he pressed them to Alex’s fingers, kissing each one. Kyle gently pulled off the respirator, and he and Michael both helped a confused Alex sit up.

Alex’s brows were furrowed as he took in the room. When he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse. “I had the weirdest dream.”

Isobel collapsed into tearful giggles, and Max, relieved, patted Alex’s shoulder twice. Kyle ruffled his hair, and Michael moved to sit next to him, hugging him tightly and keeping him close.

“Don’t ever do that to us again, Manes,” Kyle warned him with a trembling smile.

“Do what?” Alex asked. “I don’t remember anything – ow!” He lifted up his short sleeve to reveal red nail marks. Michael’s nail marks from when he’d been gripping him a little too tightly, terrified of losing him.

Alex met Michael’s gaze with furrowed brows, realization quickly dawning. Michael pressed their foreheads together and took a second to breathe Alex in before he closed the distance between them, taking Alex’s lips in his own.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and then Alex broke away, panting, though they kept their foreheads together.

“Get off him,” Kyle slapped Michael’s shoulder. “He still needs a minute to breathe.”

“No,” Michael said simply, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder and nuzzling his neck, feeling as much of him as he could.

“Oh!” Isobel started. “Alex, what ever happened to that photograph?”

Michael tensed.

“What photograph?” Max asked.

“Alex,” she said, “had this picture of him and Michael when they were seventeen. We saw it in all of his memories.”

“Isobel,” Michael warned through grit teeth. He expected the same out of Alex, to see him embarrassed or shy, but Alex simply blinked like he’d forgotten about the picture.

“That?” he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small photograph.

Michael hugged his waist with one hand and took the photo with the other. “I have one just like this.”

Alex laughed. “Yeah?”

“I’ll show it to you,” he promised into his shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Alex sighed. “I think it might be time for a new one.” He smiled at Michael like he adored him. No, more than adored him. The thought made Michael’s heart flutter and made him cling tighter.

Michael kissed Alex’s neck, then his shoulder. “Good. ‘Cause I have a few ideas.”

“Um,” Isobel said testily as Max and Kyle looked away with red faces. “Y’all know we’re still here, right?”

[seeaddywrite]

stars, hide your fire: chapter two

i absolutely will not be able to keep up with daily updates, but i’ve got the first 10k of this written & i’m just editing for continuity & nonsense sentences right now. this was almost a 5k chapter, but i thought that was a bit much, so there will probably be another part up tomorrow. 

also, to address one of the questions i got: yes, this is on AO3, if you prefer to read in that format.  

Chapter Index: 1 || 2

Anxiety is one of the remnants of active duty that Alex can’t shake. His fingers tap a frantic rhythm on his good knee as he watches the group he’s assembled parse through the surveillance footage and the schematics for the weapons, and he catches himself beginning to list all the ways Guerin and the others could blame him for this. He should have found it sooner. He should have pushed harder for information, when Jesse Manes was at his mercy. He should have known his brothers wouldn’t give up this easily just because their father and de facto leader disappeared. Alex should have thought more like a Manes, and less like better man he was trying to become.

He knows that the likelihood of anyone blaming him for those things is next to nothing, logically, but the worry is still there, half-stifled in the back of his mind. It’s especially loud as Guerin snatches the schematics and begins muttering to himself, and even consulting Liz on something that looks like an equation on the lower corner of the scans. Alex keeps his eyes on those two -- it’s easier than looking at Isobel’s ashen, waif-like countenance or the barely-contained fury on Max’s face. The lights keep flickering on and off, and Alex knows that he’s struggling to contain his powers. Alex thinks that’s understandable, but he might be the only one, judging by the sharp looks the others keep sending him.

“Evans, do you mind?” Valenti is finally the one to snap. “We’re all worried! But no one can read without lights, and if we’re still under surveillance, the fireworks show inside might seem a little freaking suspicious!”

Max’s lips tighten, but the lights steady and hold.

Alex lets them have another twenty minutes of trying to search for a way out of the mess in front of them before he clears his throat. Six pairs of eyes bearing various signs of horror and resignation look up at him, and Alex’s heart beats a little faster before he finds the calm, calculating place in the back of his mind that allowed him to survive ten years as an active duty codebreaker while men died all around him.

“Before you all start making plans,” he says calmly, projecting his voice just enough so that everyone in the room can hear him. “Just listen for a minute, okay?” There are a few nods, and after a moment, Alex continues, knowing that in their confusion and fear, they will respond to a voice laden with authority -- just like soldiers in the middle of an op gone tits-up. “Project Shepherd is my father’s pride and joy. It’s a family legacy, and has been for generations. There’s no way he’s given the keys to the kingdom away to random strangers.” Alex glances at Kyle, who nods once, encouraging. “This has to be my brothers. Kyle, Guerin, and I ran into Flint when we went to Caulfield --” The aliens all flinch in tandem at the words. Alex wants to reach out for Michael, seated to his left, to offer some measure of comfort at the bleak reminder, but he doesn’t have that right anymore, even if they are friends. And Michael is already stowing his grief behind a fierce mask, anyway, and wouldn’t appreciate the attempt if it was made. “And I’m pretty confident in guessing that Charlie and Hunter are involved, too.”

There’s a low mutter of discontent from Liz, whose dark eyes are blazing with badly-contained anger. Alex knows how she feels. Max runs a hand down her arm as he watches Alex, waiting for the rest of whatever he has to say, and Rosa leans in closer, looking more confused than anything. There’s still so much about the time before her resurrection that she doesn’t know, despite their best efforts to bring her up to speed.

“I know those guys,” Alex plods forward, refusing to be distracted. “I know how they work, and they’re not going to stop coming for us unless we stop them. And I think the only way we’re going to do that is by getting someone on the inside. Someone who knows how they work -- someone with the training and the skills to make them think that he can help.”

Guerin’s body goes rigid next to Alex, and Liz surges to her feet, but none of it stops Alex from saying: “I’m going to do it. I can get the information we need to bring in the government, or higher-ups in the military, and keep your names out of it. If I’m the one undercover, I control the narrative -- it’s the perfect set-up to make sure they all end up in a military prison, at the very least..”

Chaos erupts in the room around him, and Alex sits back, arms crossed over his chest, and waits.

There’s something grounding about being surrounded by people who all care about each other despite having plenty of reasons not to. Alex has never had a normal family, full of love and bickering and over-protective siblings, but he imagines this is what it would have been like, if he had. Fighting because they don’t want their siblings and loved ones to be hurt, rather than because they do.

Alex has never had that, not really -- his oldest brother, Charlie, had defended him a few times, but in the end, Jesse Manes’ opinion was the only one that ever mattered in their house, and according to him, Alex deserved to hurt. Eventually, Alex had gotten used to the isolation and abuse within his home, and he’d learned at a young age that sharing blood did not mean sharing love. He’d hidden his softest parts behind a sharp tongue and a rough exterior, complete with piercings and a ‘fuck off’ expression that kept even the most determined teachers and their questions at bay. Liz, Maria, and Rosa were the only ones who’d never been fooled, but looking back, Alex can admit that he kept even them at arm’s length. It was necessary, at the time; none of those women were the sort of people who would do nothing if they found out exactly how bad things were for Alex at home, and the last thing he’d wanted was for them to get hurt because of him.

Needless to say, from that perspective, it’s utterly bizarre to be sitting there,  listening to Michael’s little, makeshift family fight him on the course of action he’s chosen to take his father down for good. They’re all trying to protect him -- even Max, who’s only been breathing again for two weeks and has barely spoken two words to Alex in all of that time. But even still, he’s volunteered himself for the mission instead, on the grounds that he can defend himself with his powers if necessary, and the fact that it’s not fair to ask Alex to move against his own blood.

It’s insane, of course. Max is a cop, but he’s never been a great one; he’s too straight-and-narrow, aside from the lengths he’s willing to go to in order to protect the people he loves. This is the sort of op that requires planning on the fly and subterfuge, and a flexibility that Max just doesn’t have. Not to mention the fact that there’s no way Max will ever learn enough about computers and hacking in time to be any of use to Project Shepherd, and he doesn’t have the family ties that would get the Manes boys to even consider trusting him, even if they haven’t, by some miracle, seen anything suspicious about him on their surveillance footage.

Despite all of that, Alex can’t help but feel a little warmer at the obvious concern, even if he has no idea how to take it. His feelings about Max Evans and his god complex are complicated even on a good day, and Alex isn’t used to this sort of protective behavior. He knows it’s coming from a good place, though -- the one real conversation he and Max have had was about Michael, and the fact that if Guerin sees Alex as family, Max does too, no matter what their relationship status might be.

So,  yes. Alex would be lying if he said that it isn’t oddly nice to have people worrying about him, but eventually, enough is enough.

He’d gone silent as soon as the fighting started; Kyle had warned him that no one was going to like the idea of Alex going undercover with Project Shepherd, and Alex had predicted Michael’s immediate and absolute denial -- but this is his decision. His family, his legacy -- his responsibility. If he’s ever going to feel like it’s safe to be with Michael again, if he’s ever going to feel free of his father and his damned battles, Alex has to do this. There’s no other way out from beneath his shadow, and Alex has spent enough of his life missing the sun.

Alex has to do this, and no one is going to stop him -- no matter how good their intentions.

“It’s gotta be me,” Alex says loudly, adopting a tone of command that he’d learned in the middle of the desert in wartime. It effectively silences the squabbles filling the room, and again, six pairs of eyes turn to him, some incredulous, others resigned -- and one pair of beloved brown orbs full of vehement denial. But Alex sits tall on the couch, meeting each gaze in turn with steely determination, hoping that he looks more confident in his own abilities than he feels. His brothers aren’t stupid, and there’s a good chance they’ll see through his ruse, but he has the best chance of fooling them -- and Alex isn’t willing to risk anyone else.  “Come on, guys, you know it has to be me. No one else knows Charlie and Flint like I do, and no one else has the training to be useful to their project.”

Alex doesn’t know how he ended up as a member of this eclectic little family, but it’s happened, and he’d do a thousand horrible things before he let anything happen to any of them. Lying to the family he’d grown up with seems like a small price to pay in order to keep them safe. Michael has always deserved happiness and safety, and while Max and Isobel have their issues, they aren’t anything like the villainous aliens Jesse Manes laments about. And Liz, Rosa, and Kyle -- they deserve better than lives on the run, too, which is what awaits them if Project Shepherd ever finds out about their ties to the aliens.

Alex allows himself a moment to reflect on the way they’d all come together, in the wake of Max’s death, as a way to remind himself of why he’s doing this. It had happened in fits and starts, with plenty of stalling. At the beginning, he’d stayed strictly to the periphery. Most of that had been his own choice; in the wake of Michael’s decision to pursue a relationship with Maria, it had been easier to just keep his distance and try to keep moving forward with his own healing.

It only took a month for Michael’s relationship with Maria to end, though, and Alex found himself as a Max fill-in, bailing the other man out of the drunk tank and hiding the acetone when it looked like Michael might drown in it. It’s not an auspicious start to a friendship, especially considering their history, but after several awkward interludes and false starts, they manage to find even ground. Alex doesn’t think they’ll ever quite manage a completely platonic friendship, but they’ve found something that works for them -- something that someday, they hope can become something more.

Michael isn’t the only one who gets tangled up in Alex’s life in those rough months. After a few weeks of private grief, Liz showed up, wanting access to the Caulfield files to look for intel that could help bring Max back from the dead. She’d mentioned in passing that they needed help making sure that no one would question the cover story for Rosa’s miraculous return, so Alex had been the one to put enough of a digital footprint online so that anyone but an experienced hacker would have to believe she’d been kidnapped, not murdered, ten years past.

And then, somehow, the Ortecho sisters became regular fixtures in his cabin. It seemed like one of them was always there, cooking burned meals in his scarcely-used kitchen or dragging in a television set from Arturo’s basement when they noticed Alex didn’t have one. It hadn’t taken much for Alex to remember how much he’d adored Rosa as a teenager, or why Liz had been one of his closest friends for well over a decade before they drifted apart -- and he couldn’t deny that he’d been grateful to feel less isolated from the town.

From there, it all spiraled into weekly dinners and brainstorming sessions,  to sharing his space and his time with these people as they fought back against what seemed like the inevitable. They’d won against it before, and Alex is absolutely certain that they can again. But they need to all be on the same page, first.

“Max can defend himself if he has to,” Michael points out before Alex says anything more, shoving himself forward on the couch to bring his body within touching distance of Alex. It’s the closest they’ve been in months, and Alex hates the way his heartbeat speeds up just from the  proximity. “No one in your family knows that he’s an alien, plus he’s a deputy. Your dad wanted Cam’s input from the Sheriff’s office -- I bet your brothers will want what he can tell them, too. It’s a way in.”

Alex tries to decide whether Michael has so much faith in Max that he believes he can pull off an op like this, or if he’s just so sure that Alex can’t that he’s scrambling for any better option. Neither speak positively about Michael’s headspace, and Alex isn’t sure he wants to know the real answer. Michael’s been incredibly protective of his brother since his resurrection, though -- it seems strange that he’s willing to go along with Max’s self-sacrificing offer.

“Are you forgetting we just brought Max from the dead?” Isobel interjects shrilly, before Alex gets the chance to figure out what the hell Michael is thinking. She directs her icy gaze at Michael, and then at Alex, as if he hadn’t just told the entire room that he’s got to be the one to join Project Shepherd. Isobel’s been the quietest since they all arrived, and is pressed into Max’s side in a way that even Liz isn’t, though she’s still sitting close. Alex knows Isobel’s still trying to pull herself together from the realization that her husband was a mass-murdering psychopath for the duration of their marriage, and understands that she has the right to heal in her own way, but he’s getting tired of being the subject of her ire. “Like hell are we sending him straight to a bunch of people who want to cut him open and play mad scientist with his guts!”

“Give me a break, Isobel!” Michael snaps back at his sister. “I’m not trying to get him killed! But he’s got a better chance of defending himself than Alex, if shit gets ugly. I’d go if I could, but I’m on a fucking watchlist -- there’s no way they’ll buy it.”

He sends a look at Max that Alex can’t really see, but the taller man nods once, and rests a hand on Isobel’s shoulder. “Michael’s being smart, Iz,” he says quietly. “We can’t send Alex into Project Shepherd to --”

“I don’t think we should be sending anyone!” Isobel interrupts, and crosses bare arms over her chest. Fire dances in her eyes as she stares around the room at the assemblage, and for once, Alex is reminded of the intimidating teenaged girl from high school who’d had every straight guy at Roswell High panting after her. Lately she’s seemed more like a shadow than that person, and Alex can admit that he’s glad to see her regaining some of herself -- even if it’s the more difficult parts. “This is all stupid. Starting up some kind of super-spy mission is asking for them  to figure out our secret if they don’t already know. No one’s made a move on us, yet. There’s still time for us to get out of town; we don’t need to risk anyone for the sake of information. It’s not worth it!”

Isobel has suffered so much loss already that Alex can understand her point of view. There’s a risk to this op, and not just to Alex -- if he fails, there’s a high probability the entire truth will come out. It’s not a big leap from Alex being a traitor to the rest of them being involved, and from there, it’s a pretty easy supposition that Jesse Manes might have been right about who in Roswell might be from another planet. She’s thinking ahead and weighing the consequences against the possible reward -- and to her, it’s not coming out even.

“Do you really want to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, Isobel?” Alex asks softly, ignoring the way that Guerin is practically thrumming with anger in the seat next to him. He’ll deal with him soon -- but first, he needs to get everyone else settled down. Kyle is already in the corner, talking to Liz and Rosa in a low, soothing whisper. It strikes Alex then how lucky he is to have Valenti on his side, especially considering he doesn’t like the plan anymore than they do. He’s trusting Alex to make the right calls, and that means a hell of a lot.

“I know my family. They’re not going to stop coming. Eventually, even if they can’t get video or photos, they’ll come to town and ask the right questions to the right people. They’ll hear about Rosa Ortecho’s magical reappearance after ten years. They’ll hear about Michael’s hand, or the bizarre power outage, or the lawyer who just up and disappeared. Or maybe they’ll stop by the diner, or the hospital and find dad in that coma, and he’ll just give them all the answers when he wakes up.” That particular scenario is terrifying, and Alex pushes forward, refusing to dwell, or feel guilty for telling the bald-faced truth, despite the growing disquiet on his friends’ faces. “There are thousand ways for them to find out the truth, and to hurt you. Running isn’t going to make a difference. They’ll find you, eventually. It’s a delaying tactic, not a solution.”

Alex exhales slowly, gives everyone a moment to process his logic, and finishes: “So I’m going to take them down from the inside, and I’d really like you all to help me -- from a safe distance. If you don’t want to, I understand, but I am doing this. With or without your blessing.”

[raichoose-moved-again]

Tags - Muses, Pt. 1

[raichoose-moved]

TAG REFERENCES FOR CHARACTERS ~ PART THREE

Hello! Please click on a tag to see all of the IC content, musings, aesthetics, icons, and tag games for that character ~

Listed here

Alex Shepherd

Captain Dune

Angela

Claudia

Courage

Fluttershy

Full Grown

Harry

Heather

Herbert

Japhet

Jennifer

Mathias

[staticfog]

FOR EACH “⭐️” I GET, I’LL WRITE A HEADCANON ABOUT OUR MUSES. - Not Accepting

@pyrocicle asked: ⭐️

Silent Hill loves watching Dove and Alex work together. As a result, it deliberately sends more monsters and puzzles their way in an effort to entertain itself with their cooperation and occasional stress arguments. (And, knowing that Joshua has unfortunately died long ago, it believes there is no real harm in delaying Alex’s cause.)