--------------------------------------
In theory, a handprint lasts for a set amount of time, disappearing slowly like a fading tattoo or a withering flower. The emotions, the memories or whatever else Max shared with Liz, faded in intensity after a while too. He'd heard this from both parties on two separate occasions, and so he thinks, perhaps too hopefully, that this mental link will fade too.
Feeling Alex like this, hearing him....its a magnificent gift and the worst kind of temptation. A tantalizing way to finally have so many of the answers Michael has wanted for over a decade now. But its wrong on a level that Michael cannot stomach. Its taking advantage of Alex in the worst way, listening to his thoughts and taking his choice away.
Alex has fought so hard for so long to be comfortable giving himself more than one option, to voice what he wants and needs. Michael cannot be the person that takes that away. Too many people have done that to him. Michael won't be another person on that list.
And Michael knows, oh God he does, that thoughts don't make reality.
The smell of a burning car, a funeral pyre he caused to protect his sister, his abilities used to protect and ruin in one night...that memory reminds him sharply that he will be a bigger monster than he is now if he doesn't stop this train wreck from happening. He loves Alex too much, respects him too much to let that happen.
If it takes a whole car ride into another state to talk himself into believing it...it certainly doesn't make him miss Alex less.
He already regrets leaving.
Distance will surely help, rendering him unable to hear Alex's thoughts and for the entire time he was driving to Pueblo with Salma, watching the endless stretches of flat land as they passed Albuquerque, then hit the border he tried to believe this was a good idea.
But he wasn't Alex, able to make critical snap decisions like this and just go with it. Or Liz, who as much as he cared for and respected her, treated leaving Roswell like the answer to all her relationship problems. Both of them disappeared like smoke and left hollowness and hurt behind, unable to understand they were integral and loved.
Michael did not want to be the same, but this time, he needed this short break. It wasn't months or a whole year, just a couple of weeks to break this link before he could do any more damage to his relationship with Alex.
It was a seven hour journey at best from Roswell into Colorado, and he wasn't flooring it. Salma exhausted after her escape from her abusive, soon-to-be-ex-husband and having taken some over the counter pain meds, had drifted off eventually, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts.
All of which circled around Alex and what he had been thinking.
*Am I okay? Of course I'm not! Michael is not okay, how could I be okay?*
His tone had been so affronted, so defensive.
*Just smile and pretend you're tired.*
Does anyone buy into that? Michael certainly never did.
*In the best world I would be able to ask Michael why he's upset and he'd tell me. He'd trust me. None of you have the remotest idea what that's like! Why its so easy to be hurt. How hard it is being this far apart from him. Living with how he doesn't look at me anymore. How hard it is not being with him. I wouldn't be a Manes. I would be with Michael. He wouldn't be dating her. He'd be with me. We would have a home.*
"We would have a home." Michael repeated to the miles of sand and scrub grasses, to the road beneath his truck and the tears pooled in his eyes.
A nice house. His truck and whatever vehicle Alex chose parked in the driveway. Pictures of smiling faces and music. A yard big enough for the dog Alex always wanted, for the beautiful happy kids they would raise, big enough for the grand-kids who would flock to their house. A table for their massive family. Memories threaded through the rooms, the patter of tiny feet. The dream that took root in Michael's mind in the back of this pick-up truck in 2008 and one that never evaporated. It was folded like a love note, or a cherished photo, buried deep into the sand of Michael's heart, never drenched by tears or scorched by the flames of anger.
A dream of Alex and him, of a family.
It hurt like fractured ribs, a dogged pain that you couldn't forget. Why was Alex thinking of this now?
Bitterly, Michael wondered why he couldn't have thought of this three years ago. Then he just wondered why he was thinking of it at all. Alex had supposedly moved on. Was he resentful that they never got that life, like Michael was? It didn't mean that Alex wanted that now, his conscience reminded him.
The wish that he might want that one day, lingered.
They spoke of love in past tenses and couldn't hold each other's gaze anymore.
Between the cold tears and the hope that just wouldn't die,
It was a long drive away from Alex.
They passed Wagon Mound with the mountains in the distance, before Isobel calls, then when he doesn't pick up, she texts.
In Pueblo, he met Salma's sister Mia, who was incredibly kind, welcoming Michael into her home without a second thought. Its sitting at her kitchen table, he learns that Salma had twisted the truth a little. She told her sister that her truck had died outside Roswell, but didn't tell her that Michael had been the tow truck driver. Instead, she made it sound like she had reunited with her old friend - from their dad's ranch - at the bar near the motel, and he was injured helping her after three guys shoved her into a table. Her elbow as proof and Michael's split lip.
There is an awkwardness to their interactions that speak of time apart, growing differently in the spaces made by choices. Nothing like his own siblings and himself, who find their groove with each other even in the middle of their differences. Salma for all her gun-ho and brazenness, lets the fragility of her situation, of her heart speak as she talks. Mia clearly loves her younger sister, sitting with her wife Lia, who is equally horrified by the story. Davies had been abusing Salma for years, beatings, death threats and every time she had tried to get free, he'd found her. Salma had ditched her phone and used her old truck to head north from Texas, trying to get to her sister.
Mia, with her long curly hair just going grey at the temples, holds her sister and Michael knows he did the right thing.
She offers him a place to stay after he tries to head to a 'motel', when really he plans on spending the night in his truck under the stars, then offers him a job when he refuses to sponge off her kindness. "Salma said you needed a breather. She said you had trouble with your brother. Something about his heart?" She asks when he's washing the dishes after dinner.
"He's better." He doesn't want her to think he's bailed on Max, so he tells her, "I thought when he was sick, we could put the past behind us and be brothers again. Turns out that wasn't in cards. Now he's right back to where we were."
"Sometimes we need distance." Mia had said and then asked later, the question he could see burning at he tip of her tongue, "Why did you help my sister?"
Michael stared into those kind eyes over the dishes, his hands soapy and answered honestly. "Your sister saved my life. I owe her. And no one deserves to be treated like that."
Mia nods and then says as she takes the next plate, "Stay with us for as long as you need."
**
He calls Isobel and lets her steam, lets the love she holds for both himself and Max wash over him, a riptide beneath the anger in her voice. She calls him an idiot and demands he call her everyday.
"If she tries to murder you again, I'll set Alex Manes on her!" Isobel declares as she hangs up.
Max texts him and he reads it anyway. Come back when you're ready. Don't get murdered.
**
The sky was heavy grey clouds on the horizon building for a storm the day he moved onto the guest ranch owned by Salma's cousin and operated by her sister-in-law's brother. Another tangle of family, he thought amused as he drove here. The horse beneath him kept pace steadily, tossing her head a little scenting rain and Michael attuned to her emotions, with very little prompting from his telepathic gifts, gently stroked her neck as he nudged her forward, projecting calm. She was young and he knew why they had put him with her, scoping out his abilities and experience with horses, his reactions as a gauge of reliance. But he was too experienced and soon had her ambling along, calm and steady.
It had been a couple of years since his last ranch job, that time mainly as a mechanic, but as he joined the others as they rode further into the pastures, there was a part of him that loved the country, the freedom of the wide open space.
Not even the dramatic phone call with Izzy the night before can train wreck his mood. She took him leaving town badly and with Salma in tow less than that. She also refused to acknowledge his actual reasons and fumed over Salma, but Michael heard her worry loud and clear.
It was temporary only, filling in for a ranch hand and wrangler who had been forced to head out of state for a family crisis. Working with the horses, clearing trails, even performing some of the ranch hand tricks, it was a life he'd forgotten. Of course this ranch was a long way off some of the ones where he'd worked in the past. For one thing, the pay was fair.
His boss is Salma's cousin and Michael wasn't expecting the man to thank him, or to welcome him into his home, but Dominic is determined that Michael stays under his roof. Salma means so much to them and its a relief, she's finally away from him. As kids, Salma had been as lost as him, her father throwing her out not expecting her to take the horse too. Hearing that she had a place within her family when she needed it the most, settled his worry.
He's forced to recount at the dinner table how he and Salma had been friends on the ranch owned by her father. When things came to a head, he hitched her horse trailer to his truck and offered her a way out. Her Mama's horse and her granddaddy's shotgun were pretty much her only possessions. He told them about a few rodeos and while they want him to be a guest, Michael soon impresses Dominic with his skills, succeeds in a decent performance and had already fixed the foreman's Jeep by the time lunch rolled around the following day.
He's one hour into his new job on Saturday, doing the tour of the guest ranch when he feels it.
It starts as a prickling sensation, spreading through his entire body and its only his telekinesis keeping him on the horse. Then he feels a rush of emotion. Shock, then something that feels a lot like despair.
Its a yawning pit that threatens to overwhelm him, then he's numb.
It lasted for a terrifying few minutes then its gone. Leaving him gasping in the cold wind of the plains, his horse uneasy and somehow he's managed to keep upright, without alerting the other two people he's with that anything is wrong.
What the hell was that?
The obvious and frightening answer is the alien connection he has with Alex. There is no cell reception where he is and he's not allowed his phone during work times, so its hours before he can call Alex. The feeling now is more of a hint, but its nothing good. A taste of depression and a tangle of guilt, distress and...anger.
He prays its one sided.
The night sky had been his refuge for nearly as long as he had been alive, but tonight the stars seemed to mock him as he drives two miles to the spot with good cell reception and privacy on the ranch, parks up and wanders to the coyote fence. Michael breathed in the country air, feeling more lost than ever before and calls his soulmate. He has to know why Alex is upset.
It rings three times before Alex picks up. "Hey," His voice is soft, the rich timbre missing its usual vivacity. Its not late, but he doesn't think he was interrupting something and he would know. There's no post-sex languidness in his tone, no hitch in his breathing, its not the sated boneless sprawl tucked into syllables. Its not his officious tone on the other end of the spectrum either or the husky coming to awareness voice of an Alex woken from sleep.
He sounds like he's had a long, bad day and Michael's heart hurts that he's not in Roswell to make it better.
Not that he would have anything more than a phone call and a text to work with sharing the same town. It's not like he can just pull up at Alex's house. And asking him to come over to the junkyard is so loaded its just asking for trouble.
So Michael doesn't aim for too bright or overly happy, makes his voice soft too, lets his tiredness seep into his words. "I've forgotten what hours in a saddle does to your back." Michael says in greeting, "Didn't embarrass myself though. No wobble walk."
"Wobble walk..." Alex repeats nonplussed, the depressed feeling not as intense as before. Michael nods to no one, alone near the fence.
"Yeah. Got myself a temp job on a ranch. Old school type too." Michael explains, then coughs up a viable explanation of why he's in Colorado, "Sanders said I needed my head on straight. He gave me a few weeks off and this beat sitting in my bunker more crazy than usual."
There was a pause and then Alex says, "You're not crazy. You've been through so much Guerin. I'm the last person who is going to judge you for needing some time"
"Yeah, but I should have called you before." Michael admits. "Kinda spur of the moment."
There is an inhale on line; surprise or an acknowledgement of Michael's hasty departure, but Alex just says, "I was surprised you weren't at the charity thing. You support so many food schemes and you had planned all the plants, got the charity the seeds and everything. But Isobel told us that you were in Colorado."
The emotion he's picking up is not quiet acceptance despite what Alex's voice is suggesting so Michael ventures, "Yeah, but I'd be lying if I said I regret missing shoveling dirt with Ann Evans."
As if attempting to be more upbeat, Alex said, "You weren't missing much. It was an enlightening lunch however. I didn't know you were a rodeo champion."
Michael laughs, "Oh my god. " He imagines Valenti's response and snorts. "I am. Three times winner. Ranch hand tricks, tie-down roping and saddle bronco." Alex makes a noise somewhere between disbelief and a laugh. He loves that sound. "There's pictures if you don't believe! Came third in bareback bronco and barrel racing. Second in bull ridin' though."
"Oh my god." Alex echoes, sounding so amused, "Are those pictures online?'
"You're the computer expert. Buuut...because I am amazing, I will give you a hint. 2009 and 2012."
Alex chuckles, a warm sound that suffuses through Michael, like whiskey. This is his opportunity to set straight whatever Isobel has gone and implanted in Alex's head. He doesn't want Alex to think he ran off with a girl.
"So in this narrative of Isobel's... I take it I was lured by a short skirt or some nefarious plot by my ex-girlfriend from when I was nineteen? Am I rediscovering my youth? Joining an artist commune? Got no skills for the circus."
"Can't see you in an artist commune Guerin." Alex says with a snort, "She's worried for you and Isobel didn't quite phrase it like that."
But she phrased it in a particular way that has that little hint of distaste in Alex's voice.
"She's always hated Salma."
There is a frustrated huff before Alex says, "She told us that Salma nearly got you killed. That she set you up at the rodeo, nearly got you shot dead and then dumped you for Texas." Alex said tightly, like he expects Michael to be angry or in denial. Ready to fight for Michael's survival.
That's one thing that never changes, between them.
"We were in over heads," Michael tells him calmly, "But no one expected the guy to walk into a packed rodeo and start shootin'. And Yeah, Salma did cheat on me with the same guy but no, I wasn't all torn up about it. Salma is as free spirited as you can get. I knew that then. We dated for a few months, was never gonna be forever."
"You nearly died." Alex said stubbornly. "They felt it."
"I was hurt real bad. That's true" Michael agrees. Alex was a combat veteran who had probably seen enough people die from a bullet or shrapnel to send anyone crazy. "He was aiming for the judge who disqualified him. He shot me, cuz' I was the one on the horse. I had just won tie-down roping, under five minutes. I was getting back on Salma's horse when he pulled the trigger."
Horror fills Michael's chest, like a noxious gas. Alex's horror.
"He wasn't aiming for me. And yeah, it was a long way from Roswell, but Salma stopped the bleeding. She couldn't take me to a hospital and it wasn't her fault. 'Sides, if wasn't for Salma, I would have been beheaded Alex at twenty."
The feeling that washes over him is like standing on breaking flooring, a bizarre and terrifying moment, that has him clutching the wooden fence post, "Alex?"
"How? Michael how?" Alex demands hoarsely.
"Tow chain snapped." Michael told him reluctantly, but he didn't want Alex to think he'd run off with a girlfriend. " Look, Salma didn't get me into the rodeo, being flat broke did and owing money to the wrong kind of people. It was thanks to her that I did well in it and paid for the Airstream with the winnings. She did leave me for Texas, but that was always the deal between us. Ain't no betrayal if both sides know the plan. A year later, we were working on the same farm. She pulled me outta the way Alex, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. That chain took out a tree twice my age. I owe her. Least I could do was drive her to sister's place, to get away from her abusive husband."
"Then I owe her too." Alex told him quietly."God, Michael."
"It was a long time ago now Alex. Salma is with her family, making a new life for herself and I'm here at my new job. And when this time is over, I very much doubt I'll ever see Salma again and that's fine too." Michael tells him gently. "I cared about her. She was my friend but that's it."
"I'm glad she's found a new life away from abuse." Alex says honestly. "Thank you for telling me the truth. You should know, Max thinks you left because of him." Alex's tone tells Michael he's waiting, reserving judgment on Max in case its true.
"He's half right." Michael admits, "We argued like we haven't in a while and I have been a burden lately. Both you and him have had to clean that mess up."
"Not even remotely true." Alex refutes sounding and feeling annoyed. "You never asked for it to happen and you nearly died. You did everything you could Michael. That I can fix some of it, make it better, that makes me feel better about what happened okay?"
Alex was always kind, no matter how he denied it. Michael shook his head, walked from the fence to sit on his truck tailgate and takes a sip from the beer he had left there. "That barn kinda fucked me up too. That thing Alex, the oval? That's fucking me up."
The first part of the truth, he owed Alex that at least, for bailing on him.
"I'm sorry." Alex breathes, "Michael,"
"It's not you, its not on you. You got me out of there." Michael tells him firmly, "It's just whatever this thing is, its gonna need working out of my system. Like a virus or something."
Great way to describe a link to your soulmate, Michael privately groans to himself.
"That sounds really bad Guerin. Are you safe?" Alex interrupts worriedly, "How do we know when the...virus is...that you're getting better?"
"If I wasn't you'd be here." Michael reminds him gently, and Alex doesn't deny that he's tracked Michael's phone, knows his exact location probably right down to his position by this fence.
"Yes." Alex just says, a promise and a confession rolled into one word.
"It's getting better. I don't think being around Izzy and Max is a good idea right now. But, I'll be back." The pressure in his chest lessens immediately, "Not like I'll be missed.
"That's not true." Alex argues and he sounds shocked that Michael would think that.
"Max basically said things were better when I wasn't around to fuck them up." Michael admitted, blurted really. The hurt bubbling over. and the need to voice his other fears, unrelated to the link with Alex. "He was pissed over the barn. I don't know if this...thing is affecting them too. They seemed really..fractious Alex. Looking for a fight. Izzy is pissed over Salma, but I've noticed since I've been gone, she's calmed down. Max too. He can't even remember having that fight at the station."
Alex exhales anger and counts to four silently. Michael knows he's doing it because there's this slow inhale and four seconds pass before he speaks, "First, that's not true. Never true. If you don't come back, I'll have to move to Colorado."
He hasn't seen Alex for over a week, and yet he's talking like Michael is integral to his life. Hope springs eternally.
"I ain't good company right now." He argues helplessly.
"You are." Alex refutes flatly, like Michael is being stubbornly unreasonable about something so factual, so set in stone its ridiculous. He'd get offended but its really sweet of him. "Second, maybe. I don't know. Maybe. Isobel seems the same to me, Max too. They don't like it that you're in Colorado. You think, this...remnant effect you're battling is making them more...emotional?"
"That's partly why I'm here Alex." Michael admits, "What if that thing changed me?"
"We'll figure it out when you come back. If Max and Isobel get agitated when you return we know there is an effect and Liz will find answers with you and Kyle. We will figure this out Michael. You are not on your own." Concern and determination emanated strongly from the link. "I'll speak to Liz, see if she's noticed anything with Max."
"Thanks Alex. It's worrying me."
"I'm here for you." Alex promises, "But what kind of symptoms are we talking about?"
"Tiredness, aching...all that could be barn-after-effects. I feel raw and like I've had too much exposure therapy." Michael admits. "My...ah skill-set is on ultra high. I'm refusing to use it because I'm not sure about my control. Maybe it just needs to settle a little?"
"Maybe. Do you want me to talk to Liz?"
"She'll want blood samples and I just started this job. Dominic, my new boss and his wife Rita are really nice. I'll wait a while, see if it settles on its own." Michael decides. Like breaking the link to Alex, so he can come back to Roswell. "I won't hurt you or anyone else Alex. I won't."
Shock is a bright spark against his nerves suddenly.
"Shh." Alex hushes on the line, "Never. I know you would never do that."
"And if I'm hearing voices Alex?" Michael demands, letting his secret problem come to the surface.
"We'll deal with that too." Alex says firmly. "I'm here for you. Always. Voices and powers and bad days all included in the warranty."
"Alex,"
"Call me, if anything happens." He interrupts, adding softly in that tone that has Michael wanting to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks for. Its vulnerability and the expectation of being ignored, of being hurt. "Call me anyway? So I know you're okay."
"Yeah."
**
For a few days he calls Alex nightly, texts him a few times over the day. Alex worries about him. He can feel it on and off like a faulty faucet. Random moments and other times nothing at all.
Still, friendship-wise, Alex seems pleased by the vistas and all important sunsets in Colorado that he shares with him and seems thrilled when a guest uploads their vacation videos to social media. How Alex found them, Michael doesn't want to know, but he sounds happy when he talks about Michael training a horse, a smoother, kinder alternative to 'breaking' and watching Michael's roping skills in action.
Liz gets on the wagon with him, loving the photo of Michael in chaps and his cowboy hat. The video of him rounding up cattle and sending them thundering into the holding pens for vaccination day, is dramatic but that was the point for the guest ranch. Alex seems really taken with it, while worrying it was dangerous and Michael can't stop smiling after each call, like the love-struck fool that he is.
For a few days there no strange feelings and Michael is calmer, more focused. The physical labor is giving him some perspective and he's almost sure that the distance will work. Max and Izzy do report that they feel fine and aren't sure why they were so angry when he left. Both of the agree it might be the foreign energy and its a disturbing thought. So all calm during the day at least.
But there are plenty of disturbing dreams the first week he's in Colorado.
The first night he dreams of fire and screams, a terrifying mess of the barn, war scenes from Iraq he thinks, screams from around him, coming from his own throat, a cacophony of sounds that should be deafening. He's throwing himself away in the guest room of Dominic's house, breathless and cold with fear.
When he falls back to sleep, he convinces himself its the stress.
Then on another day he dreams of Caulfield.
Not exactly a rare phenomena for him. The day he found his mother is the day he lost her, and the grief is so deep its hard to breathe. Its a day that haunts and hurts and always will, the pain right there simmering beneath the surface of his skin. But this time its different. Eerily so.
The large central room that holds all of the glass-fronted cells where his mother had been held are empty except for one prisoner. He's hitting the glass with a fire extinguisher, which he knows is going to trigger the alarm and the self-destruct, but there doesn't seem to be anyone else here. The prisoner is not his mother, but himself. A clone, rail thin, battered and scarred. His curls are there, when he should be bald, just frizzy with a lack of care. He's so weak he can't stand, in a dirty white t-shirt that's barely clinging to his frame, eyes sunken and ringed heavily with blue. His clone begs him to run to get out, presses his hand against the glass, his mangled left hand Michael notes. And he presses his own hand back, ignores the alarm, the shouts to leave, the tears in his own eyes. Instead he leans his forehead against the glass, shifts his body so he's sitting as close as possible on the floor in front of his clone, mouths I love you, I won't leave over and over again as the building blows up.
He cries like he did the day after he lost Max and his mother and his world upended itself. Silently into the pillow and lies there curled up until dawn.
Michael cannot deny it. That was Alex in the dream. That was Alex's dream and he chose to die with an imprisoned Michael. The battered state, the scars, the thinness, all fears of Alex's. Things he worries about. What Jesse Manes did to him and what he could have done.
So he calls Alex later that night, from the fence again. Alex is dressed like a movie star, stunning and bright-eyed when he answers his Google Duo request. He's caught Alex leaving the house or coming back, he's not sure. But Alex looks so happy to see him. Its easy to forget that Alex has a whole other life, when he looks at Michael like this.
Michael talks about the ranch, teaching people to ride horses and showing off his tricks, while he waits for Alex to beg off talking to him, to claim he's got a date with Forrest, or that he's going out with some of his friends from the base or hell, to one of Isobel's events. But he doesn't. He just answers enthusiastically and chats like Michael is the most important thing in his life, while he makes himself coffee, and then settles on his couch, shedding his coat.
"You look tired." Alex says softly after an hour, dark eyes full of concern. "I thought this was supposed to be therapeutic?"
He bites his lower lip, that classic Alex sign that he's fretting over something. "Is it the F.E?"
It takes Michael way to long to work out that 'F.E' means the foreign energy as Michael coined it. He shrugs because it is the alien connection, all the alien ovals thing's fault and he's shit at lying to Alex. "I'm getting a handle on it."
Then he dreams of the barn.
It feels inevitable and Michael dreads it, but feels like he deserves it anyway. He's getting an up front seat to Alex's nightmares. He shouldn't be able to shrug this off. Alex's pain is his pain. Maybe that's the sun of his lifelong trauma. Maybe its an alien thing. Maybe its because he's given up trying to be someone who is not in love with Alexander Manes. Maybe its just being in love.
It happens four times and each one offers pieces of the whole disaster. Alex is reliving it in dreams and since Michael is curious he fears he's making it worse.
He goes to sleep after a long walk and a long call with Alex. He hangs up only when he admits he better get back before Dominic's wife Rita locks up the house for the night and Alex tells him to keep warm, having already checked the weather forecast. It's like he's half living here too, fretting over the weather, chatting about the ranch, lingering on the line when both of them need to let go.
When Michael opens his eyes, he knows he's in Flint's barn the moment he recognizes that he's dreaming. It should be the breaking of the spell, the moment when conscious thought seeps into the dreamland, but he doesn't wake. He knows then that this is Alex's dream.
The barn is as he remembers it, old with broken stalls at one end, his torture rack in the middle and a long walk to the barn door, but he's kneeling on the floor this time, holding his clone. Which is weird and creepy. Except....
Alex is on the filthy barn floor cradling Michael in his arms, his broken bleeding body in the light of the alien oval thing, a pasty yellow green light that Michael's tempted to call avocado. What a color. This right here, he thinks is an X-Files moment, of wow this is alien. And he spends too much time with Isobel and paint colors he thinks glumly.
...And the Michael-clone is dying, body going limp in Alex's frantic hold. Max and Isobel crowd in beside him, reaching for him. One to soothe, in complete denial he's dying and the other to heal. A tearful Liz holds onto a shocked Rosa,while Maria cries into her hands and Sanders falls to his own knees, forming a circle of shared grief. Alex doesn't look at any of them, he's pleading with Michael....whose head lolls back, golden eyes bloodshot and losing all expression. The fixed dead look, even worse in the avocado light.
The cry that tears from Alex's throat is horrible, a wounded sound of pure unadulterated grief, denial and agony. He clutches Michael, cradling him closer deaf to everyone else. "No, no. Please. Sheʼashkii. Michael."
Michael wakes in tears, and breathes through a too-tight chest. He feels hollowed out and raw, because miles away, hours and across a gulf of distance that has nothing to do with geographical locations, Alex is crying.
Part two is less soul-clawing but not by much. He works hours in the sun, re-fencing an entire section, digging fire breakers and clear cutting trails. Being alien he's not sweaty when he's finished, just grimy and aching with hard labor.
He calls Alex and against his better judgement agrees to a vid call. "Are you sure you're okay?" Alex asks, soft in loose clothes, curled up on his bed like he has nothing more important to do at seven in the evening but wait for Michael's call. Michael has also seen more of Alex's house this way, than he has for the entire Alex has owned the place. Alex suits his reddish orange couch but the bed? Damn is he making up fantasies right now.
He's going to be imagining the same scene but with Alex shirtless or fully naked....
"Not really." Michael admits distracted and Alex looks one step away from calling the Pod Squad. "After effects I think, mixed up with hard work."
"You'll call me if you're reaching your limit yeah?" Alex asks looking worried and soft and so beautiful Michael is pretty sure he'll agree to anything.
""You'll drive out here and come get me?" Michael asks half-joking.
But Alex is dead serious when he says emphatically, "Yes."
He seems to fall into this one in the middle of the scene. He fumbles for a moment, confused. There is a stampede of people, Maria, worried and rushing for the kitchen in Max's place. Rosa is standing lost in the middle. Max is panting, holding onto Liz on the floor, Kyle on his other side. Sanders looks ashen and probably needs to sit down. Isobel is trying to hold onto Max and Michael at the same time...
Michael can see himself on the couch and winces. He looks like shit. Black and blue, his broken shoulder swollen and violet with bruising, torso a mess of contusions, welts and burns, the cracked ribs forming a constellation pattern of bruising that's so obvious it like a beacon. His right foot looks broken, his skin bleached of all color. He looks like a battered corpse.
The religious nutcases he's was fostered with that time, they would have definitely have thought him possessed as he writhed on the couch, blood spilling from his busted lip, his body a furnace beneath Alex's hands. He keened and moaned fitfully like was he was possessed, fighting Alex's hold on him, deaf to his constant words of comfort, his promises of safety. "There's something attacking Michael." Max says, pants really on the floor, his eyes wide and scared.
"No, just an overload. Which you should be able to feel." Michael, the real one muses. No one can hear him.
Then Isobel is pulling on him and Alex fights her, keeping Michael on the couch, his dark eyes fierce. "He going to die otherwise!" She yells at him and tugs Michael upward. He's like a doll, hardly able to hold his own weight.
They drag him outside, Isobel and Max who found his feet as soon as Isobel had spoken, stumbling and uncoordinated like a newborn lamb. Michael would tease him, but the entire scene is so charged.
Isobel and Max cling to him and they rush onto the dirt of Max's backyard, Alex forced to remain by the doors. Everyone spills out beside him, Sanders and Liz, Rosa, Maria and Kyle. They watch as the siblings drop Michael as carefully as they can to the dirt far from the house, Alex jerking forward as Michael-clone screams. He's held back by Rosa and Liz, transfixed as power lights up the spot, in a cascade of white, yellow and orange.
No, Michael realizes, lightning him up. He can see from where Alex is that he's basically almost on fire. His entire body is glowing and his siblings let him go, unable to hold him. Michael keeps screaming and the energy is plowed into the earth, ripples of orange light dance around them and purple lightning sizzles across the ground. The tree catches on fire and the fence turns to ash and he's still screaming. He pushed the power away from his siblings, away from the house by instinct.
Then Michael collapses to the ground and he's not moving.....and Alex explodes from the porch, running full tilt towards them. "Michael!"
Michael is pretty sure as this is Alex's nightmare that he's dead again.
Even though he's a mixed bag of feeling over this, chiefly guilt for what he put Izzy through and the sheer creepiness that no one told him about, Michael wakes violently and falls from the guest bed, heart pounding.
"Shit." He tells the ceiling blankly.
Then he dreams of Max's living room and a Pod Squad meeting. It takes him a moment to realize that he's seeing, through Alex's memories of the event, the post-kidnapping get-to-together. Max is pacing still in half of his Deputy Sheriff's uniform, Alex is on the couch entirely dressed in black with Maria and Liz pouring over the footage from Sanders, where Michael was being forced into a vehicle at gun point, a semi-automatic rifle behind him. He has his hands in front of him, a blurred figure on the camera being shoved into a four wheel drive, already bleeding from a head wound. Courtesy of the short fight with Flint who rammed his head into his trailer door.
How dumb of him to think it was Alex's four wheel drive. He'd just flung open the door and walked out no question, only be hit by Flint hard enough to see stars. Then the threats to Alex made him compliant.
In Max's living room sound mutes and Michael looks around curiously. Izzy is sitting on the armchair, her face pale and expression furious. Sanders is talking to Rosa and Kyle. Nothing happens for a beat of three and then the glass in Izzy's hand shatters. Explodes with her telekinesis as she cries out.
He wants to throw himself over there but Alex is frozen in place. Max is beside her with Kyle, Maria on the floor by her knees, anxiously asking if she's okay. "Michael!" She cries out, clutching her head. "He's....they're torturing him. Max...Max..."
Izzy looks at Alex, distraught. "It's your brother. Its Flint." It sounds like a decree of judgement but that must be Alex's impression.
The scene changes before Michael can feel the crash of guilt.
This time, Izzy is pacing around the patio area of Max's place at sunset, the Pod Squad gathered around. Alex is trying to tell them what he's discovered about Flint holding the coffee that Rosa pressed into his hand. Max is listening holding Liz's hand. Sanders is tucked under the porch roof, leaning over the railing, his single blue eye worried. Beside him is Maria, running her hand through her hair. Again sound doesn't seem to be working until Izzy collapses to the sand, jolting like she's having a seizure on the ground.
Alex drops the cup and it crashes to the sand like an omen.
He did this, Michael thinks horrified. He pushed their connection to the brink, shoved his way into her head. But what happens next is worse.
Lying on the ground with their family gathered around her, Max holding her hand, Izzy begins to speak. Its her voice but his accent, the drawl of the country. "Flint. Barn. Won't do it Izzy! Won't." She says her voice deeper than its usual register. Its the creepiest thing he's ever seen and that's...saying something.
Then it changes again, higher than his voice but still not Izzy's, a sneer twisting her mouth. "This always worked so well on the prisoners. Destroyed their attitude problems every time. Let's see how long you can take it Guerin."
Why the hell is she reiterating what Flint said?! Was he connecting to Flint and Izzy because the asshole was touching him? Oh my god.
Izzy seems to struggle on the ground, Max shushes her and there is a mixed reaction of horror and Alex is consumed by it, layered with fear. Izzy's voice goes back to the country drawl, her eyes scared. "No! Don't come here. Can't get free. Get out. Run. When it blows in the morning, I'll die too."
There is a pause and then Izzy says desperately, in his accent, what should have been his final words to her. "He's going to kill me soon. Get Max. Run Izzy. He's gonna come for you. Love you both. I'm sorry."
Alex cries out, a broken sound of pure pain, throwing Michael into waking.
**
If he cries in the bathroom and calls Izzy after breakfast just to hear her voice, that's between them.
**
An hour after his nightly call to Alex, near the beginning of his second week when he's soaking in the bathtub, a rare glorious luxury, Michael floats wondering about the purpose of the alien device and why it created a psychic link to Alex. His sister is highly telepathic and Max was trying to heal him at the time. Two aliens, both Oasian, both trying to connect to him in different ways that he shares an actual telepathic connection with. There was Maria who is quarter Oasians and visions-of-the-future-psychic. Rosa was modified by her time in the pod. But the device picked Alex.
Was it because he touched Michael when the device first really broke his mental wards? When Michael was open to him, pleased beyond words to see him, is so in love with him Alex is written into his cells? Did the device sense that Alex is his person? Was it just contact at the worst possible moment, or was the device attempting something different?
It wasn't wholly malicious. Easy to think it was. But Michael is not so sure, the device wasn't just acting as it was suppose to, achieving or trying to, some function needed by the actual race that created it.
If it was a device part of a ship that crashed on Earth, reason would say it was likely a communication device. Except, Michael was equally sure it might be a torture device.
He sighs. He won't ever know. And he has to break this link somehow.
The heat is seeping into his bones, far hotter than a human would prefer, easing the ache in his healing ribs. He's floating and thinking about links in particular, when his mind zeros in on Alex, his body suddenly become attuned to reactions that are not his.
Heat not from the bath water floods his body, arousal and the thrill of pleasure trips down his spine. "Alex," Michael groans.
He's rock hard and panting, partly aghast this was happening and overwhelmed with the intensity of the feelings, the thoughts that were just out of reach, indistinct but clearly drenched in desire. He palms himself, helpless to do anything else with the arousal burning in his veins.
Then Alex, because who else is this related to? He stops and Michael whines. The feeling of dissatisfaction is a slap, like sandpaper against Michael's skin. "Oh hell no." Michael complains. Not once, not even when things were contentious between them, had Michael left Alex dissatisfied between the sheets. Not once.
But Alex was dissatisfied, still aroused and irritated. Again not a combination Michael had ever inspired.
Part of him, the petty part, was darkly pleased that Forrest had failed in this most basic of ways. The rest of Michael was bewildered how anyone could. Okay, so Alex has two modes. Fiercely demanding, his kisses devouring, his hands tugging off clothing from the get go, chasing release, chasing the high. And sometimes he needs a little time, coaxing and patience, until he's a quivering puddle or moaning between kisses for Michael to get on with it, come on. In me. I want you inside me. Come on. Michael... That might take half an hour, but how was that a chore? A naked Alexander Manes in your bed, kiss-bitten lips and tousled hair, vulnerable and wanting, heart bruised from old pain, but still putting himself in your hands...
In a fit of madness, inspired by the thought that if Alex was connecting to Michael....he must be thinking of Michael with his hand on his cock.
Mentally replaced Forrest in bed with guy. With Michael.
Not willing to let Alex down and break that flawless record of epic sex, hating that dissatisfaction, Michael thinks quickly. Sitting up, he shits until he's on his knees in the bath. Using his perfect recall, Michael homes in on a memory during that summer together. Alex had been flat on his back in the bed of the truck and Michael had been in the mood to experiment. The sun had been beating down on them in their precious private spot near the old mines, only the birds and low craggy cliffs around them.
He focuses on the feeling, the sense imprint of sitting over Alex's hips, Michael's knees on either side of Alex's waist, Remembers reaching down with a smirk for Alex's cock, red and weeping, those dark eyes nearly fully black with desire and glinting with challenge. He squeezed the base, felt the tremors in Alex's body, teeth biting his lower lip.
It had been a coaxing type of day, even back then, but Michael likes those days the same as the devouring ones. Alex had wanted Michael in him but his body was too tense, Jesse Manes related stress too high that time. So Michael had improvised, before shame or anything else could derail their time together. Alex's hands had clutched at the sleeping bag and blankets, staring up at Michael with blazing want.
In the present Michael felt that arousal intensify, feels dissatisfaction become wonder and deeper desire. Michael grins.
In the past, Alex had been spilling pre-come, confused but turned on by Michael perching over him. Alex topped occasionally, but he liked Michael inside him, enjoyed having Michael over him, around him, creating a bubble of safety. That particular time Michael had pressed his cock flat against his wet stomach, keeping it in place as he shifts to sit over him, so Alex's cock is trapped along his taint, between the gap in his cheeks.
Alex's groan had been shock and want, and the feeling now was similar. Alex's hunger was vast and Michael smiled. Okay, even miles apart and alien-mind-link connected, he could still bring the animal out in Alex.
Slowly, pretending Alex was beneath him, Michael flexes his thigh muscles and starts to rock his hips. He remembers vividly, how it felt. The bright sparks of pleasure, Alex's long cock sliding back and forth along Michael's cleft, those long fingers holding onto Michael's hips with bruising force, then his knees for better grip. Remembers the cry of ecstasy, Alex's hips chasing him, the broken moans. He keeps his legs tight for Alex's cock, rocking as if he's in the saddle, which is where the idea came from originally.
Alex's lust is all around him, burning with his, a double flame and so, so good even apart. His hand is pumping his own cock, the other locked around the rim of the tub so he doesn't fall. Water should be sloshing, but he holds it with his mind, so his hips flow forward and backwards through the pool around him with barely any sound.
He remembers how good it had felt, Alex's cock rubbing against his taint, catching on his rim, as he drove Alex mad. Remembers thumbing the mushroom head as it jabs the back of Michael's balls and slides underneath them, revealed so obscenely through his thighs. Letting go of the tub, he puts his hand there as if Alex could feel it and feels the echo of sparking pleasure.
Oh. He can feel that.
Across the distance of miles and the years since that day, Michael re-imagines how Alex's body shudders every time Michael rubs carefully at the head of his cock while tight around him, remembers the broken cry when he used the rough pad of his thumb over the weeping slit. "Come on Alex." He groans. He imagines wetting his thumb with his mouth and pressing the sensitive underside, then fingering his slit again.
Feels the pleasure spike, remembers how Alex's body arches so sinfully, so sinuously when he comes.
In the aftermath, Alex is offline and Michael reaches his own pinnacle, breathless slumped over the side of the tub.
Yeah. Its going away. He thinks sarcastically. Having long distance sex with your ex, is a sign the link is fading to nothing.
**
He imagines its a door and tries shutting it. Again he thinks he did it, that it broke the link, because there is no echo, no feelings for hours. He stews over it for a day, grieving the connection and hating himself for it, when out of nowhere, there's this intense anger.
The storm Alex has been tracking and he's been waiting for, finally crests into a raging lightning show. Dry for now, but rain is hours away. Neither he, nor any of the experienced ranch hands sleep, nor do they leave the farm for their own homes. Most of them live in the town and commute here every day, but tonight they linger.
That fear pays off around ten that night when the lightning hits the scrub bushes and torches the pasture.
They leap into action, fighting the fire and dousing the flames before it can spread into a proper wildfire. They put it down as quickly as they can, but before they relax, another strike too close for comfort, reminding Michael of the night Max killed Noah, hits one of the barns.
By the time the rain comes, the guests are afraid, the fire is out with minimal damage and Michael has helped relocate the horses. He's filthy, smoky and exhausted, but every nerve comes back online when he feels the link come to life, differently to any other time.
Michael's rage is hot and too similar to the fire he's just put out. This is cold and seething, and feels bigger somehow, threatening outward violence or self-hurt as guilt and bitter pain set in with it. Worry sets in but Michael can't just demand what's wrong when he's miles away.
Hurriedly, he finds his phone goes to the driveway of the ranch where he can get reception and texts Alex, hoping the ding of an incoming message will attract Alex's attention from whoever he's pissed at. Well, he's hoping a message from him will tempt Alex over to the phone or at least hold his attention way from homicide.
Michael: Think I'm cursed.
Michael: Horse barn on fire.
His phone dings in reply after a handful of tense seconds, proving that at this time of night anyone contacting Alex's spare phone must be an important call. He's one of the very few who has the number and he knows Alex keeps that phone close.
Alex-is-life: What?!
Alex-is-life: What do you mean a barn is on fire??
Well that worked, the emotions switching from anger to panic. Which was not his intention and now Alex was upset. So he types a reply quickly.
Michael: Freak lightning storm.
Michael: Got the horses out. Everyone is 👌
Michael: Not sure if the guests are gonna flee by morning...
Michael: Might be out of a job soon. 🤠
The three dots appear immediately, then Alex's reply appears and Michael takes a breath.
Alex-is-life: 😰
Alex-is-life: Anyone hurt? Are you hurt?
Alex-is-life: Don't lie.
Michael: Smoke inhalation. Fire is out. Mostly. Gonna be a long day tomorrow.
Michael: Sorry. Just needed to tell someone.
Michael: Did I wake you?
The pause was shorter this time. Alex was replying as soon as he received the text.
Alex-is-life: No.
Alex-is-life: I want you tell me if the barn is on fire, if I'm sleeping or not Guerin.
Alex-is-life: Are you sure you're okay? 😟
Michael: I'm okay. Smoky and we're risking another fire. Storm still raging.
Alex-is-life: 😟 Call me in an hour. Or I'm driving up there.
Which was incredibly sweet of him. Michael can feel the panic come down to a manageable level, more worry now. His anger is simmering in the background, contained tightly. Then comes a strange question.
Alex-is-life: If someone betrays you, do you forgive?
Michael is pretty sure this is over Flint. He wonders if this is the source of his temper, the ghosts of the Manes legacy coming back to haunt him yet again. The history that was traumatic for Alex to uncover as it was for Michael to hear about it. Flint had crossed so many lines, Alex had pretty much disowned him, but Greg wanted to try and rehabilitate him. How Michael wasn't sure. Footage of happy nice aliens, like exposure therapy? Alex had basically put him in the hospital and was planning on ruining him.
If he hadn't already. So he's careful in his reply, trying to be sensitive to Alex's grief over Flint, whether or not Alex admitted he was upset over his brother.
Michael: Depends. If they were using me, no.
Michael: If I can be sure they didn't mean to, yeah.
Michael: After a while.
Michael: I ain't the most forgiving. 🤠👿
Michael: But if they're using you, they probably planned to do that all along.
Michael: Makes forgiving hard. 👾
A long pause and then Alex replied with a simple,
Alex-is-life: Okay. Don't get hurt! Be safe. 👾
**
As time marches on another two days, Michael begins to feel worse.
A lethargy he's not used to and finds hard to hide from his temporary boss, comes over him in waves. So he overworks to compensate. The dreams are the same and none of them are ever happy. He now can add terrifying images of Iraq and Afghanistan to his portfolio of tragedy he wishes he could have spared Alex.
"I've fought and flown," Alex sang in his open mic session, and the words have a far deeper meaning to Michael now.
The link is not going anywhere, so Michael admits defeat, tells his boss there is a problem with Max back home and leaves Colorado with a permanent job offer at the ranch and the good wishes of Salma's family. Sequestering himself in his bunker would be better.Maybe it was time Liz did a blood test and Kyle poked at him, while Alex looked on worriedly. Maybe he was at that point.
He was beginning to wonder if this was how the Oasian Flint saw the device kill, had in fact died. Not the rapid onset death he had assumed, but a slow tortuous ending with a mental connection to someone amplified - maybe the whole mental network of the prison? It's enough to get him moving.
He drives through the night without stopping for more than gas and snacks to keep him going, then a rain storm that hits around hour four into the eight hour journey. Still, he's driven through worse so he keeps going, watching the road for signs that he might die on the road faster than the link can kill him.
He's feeling so weird he has to stop and naturally that's when his truck dies in the middle of the road. He's past Santa Rosa on the highway heading for Vaughn, with miles of dry pasture benefiting from the rain storm on either side of the road. He's nowhere near anywhere right now, approximately one and half hours from Roswell, maybe a bit more and its around eight am.
Shivering in the drizzling rain, less intense now thankfully, Michael fights nausea and he's lightheaded like he hasn't eaten in days or drunk far too much tequila, to flip open his hood. The connection is pulsing like a laser giving him a migraine to match and he's so tired he can barely stay awake. His balance shot to hell and he hates that not even his hands are steady as he tries to fix his truck.
Which he can't fix.
Cursing, he goes back to the cab but he slips, unable to keep his balance and drops to the ground. The sky hears his cursing and no else.
It's lying there with a throbbing head and a protesting body, the wet road soaking his clothes, that the connection flares to life painfully. A roller-coaster of emotions and impressions from Alex. Self-doubt and anger, patience and this overwhelming need to understand something. A sense of having a choice, important and for some reason its this choice that's making Alex feel uncomfortable.
Propped up against his door, he gives in and calls Alex, uneasy about the strange, continuing feelings of betrayal and doubt he's getting from the connection. Its a faulty connection in many ways.
Still, weird feelings aside, Alex answers on the first ring with a worried, "Are you okay?" Proving that calling him in the morning and not their fixed routine of seven pm had klaxons going off in Alex's head.
"No. Not really." Michael answered, defeated. The rain must be so loud, he's sure Alex can hear it.
Worry is bright, like a phosphorous flame along the connection and Michael hates that he's brought that feeling back to Alex yet again. "Do you know where you are? Can you call Dominic? See if he can come and get you?" Alex asks, gently but firmly. Not his Captain Manes voice, but his reassuring problem-solving tone. Alex must be assuming he's fallen or something in a field miles from the main buildings.
"He's six hours in the wrong direction." Michael admits tiredly, struggling to keep his head up.
There is a pause and then Alex says surprised, "You drove all night?"
"Yeah. Stars were pretty." Michael slurs a little, trying to get up using his truck door and falls again. "Shit."
"Okay," Alex says the worry joined by something else now, Michael tries to focus on it and can't. "Let me just find out where you are,"
"I'll be fine," Michael tries to protest, "I know where I am."
But Alex didn't seem to be listening. "My family is here." He says maybe to Michael, maybe to someone else, his tone protesting.
He thinks about this and considers that Alex's family consists these days of the Delucas, the Ortechos, Kyle and three aliens. Oh and Greg! "Greg's in Roswell? That's nice. Shit. I'm sorry Alex, I'll..."
"No, no! No, don't hang up. Greg's not here." Alex tells him hurriedly, and the feeling now was panic.
"Oh...but all our family is in Roswell except for Greg." Michael said stupidly. "Did Liz leave again?"
"No. I'm...I'm saying goodbye to someone." The panic abates back to serious worry, but Alex's tone was strange and the feelings were a jumble of decisiveness, regret and hope. "Yeah, someone." Alex then says, his voice like steel and Michael knows he's not talking to him.
"Hang on one second. Don't hang up okay? One second." Alex implores and then sound is muffled. The phone is pressed to his chest or neck...definitely neck. Michael can hear the throb of his pulse. Or that's in his head.
Except its not quite muffled as Michael can hear most of the words. "...if...can't trust you with my family...trust you at all. This....us...over...."
The phone lifts a little from where's pressed to cloth Michael assumes and he hears a man's voice, "...Since he's been gone you've been mourning like you should have done for your dad."
Holy....what the actual fuck! Michael thinks horrified and more than a little shocked. Alex and...mourning for Jesse Manes? That has got to be Forrest and the worst thing that Michael has ever heard someone say to Alex. He feels a righteous, bitter anger rise and that's all his. But its joined by a rush of anger that is not his, hurt and disbelief. It swirls around Michael like a mini-emotional cyclone and then hardens to steel or maybe magma to obsidian.
Michael turns his own anger into determination. He's got be aware of this when he sees Alex next. Te old Alex would bail and avoid him. The new Alex might want to talk about it, or just want to pretend it never happened.
"Like I said," Alex says coldly, "My family comes first. I wish you all the luck in the world, but this? It's over."
Michael has no time to work out if he's elated that Alex is dumping Forrest or mortified that someone said that to Alex. He's saved from his moral, confused mental dilemma by Alex demanding if he's still there.
"Alex," He says because that seems to be all he can say.
"It's going to be okay." Alex promises him, "Just hold on okay? You hold on."
**
Despite plans to stay conscious, Michael loses that battle.
**
The world is cold and his body hurts when he drifts into awareness again, a biting pain flashing through his cheek, followed by a determined, dogged jab at his mental defenses. The connection he has with his siblings is burning but his powers are the same, no spike in energy.
He doesn't groan like a normal person, he whimpers as his head is jolted, the migraine increasing in power.
"Guerin? Michael wake up. Please." Alex says urgently above him, a warm hand stroking his cheek tenderly and Michael fights to make his body agree.
"Maybe I should try slapping him again?" Izzy suggest from above him as well.
"Maybe not." Alex says firmly, saving him. "Michael? Can you hear us? Squeeze my hand."
Michael comes to awareness with a rush as he realizes that he's not hearing Alex's mental voice any more. He can feel all of his emotions and its a lot. His presence is like a beacon right in front of Michael and he fights to open his eyes. His cold hand bends his fingers in a weak grip, nothing like his usual grasp at all. "That's it." Alex sounds relieved and proud, "I'm here Michael. Isobel's here. We're getting you home okay?"
Michael gives up trying to speak and focuses on Alex. It's like he's.....a solid presence in Michael's mind. This is more than telepathy, more than a handprint. This is a full awareness of Alex's being and its tethered to Michael's consciousness. Like...like a...a...bond.
A tether or chain that links Alex to him, beyond distance or simple connection. He can feel Alex is worrying himself sick and planning, knows he's scared about Michael but...he knows this fact, knows what Alex is feeling right this very second - without any further digging on Michael's part. If he wanted to hear his thoughts he could, he knows that and its terrifying.
"Alex," He whispers and get his eyes open to see a hazy grey sky, feel the freezing rain and works out he's lying on the road by his truck, the door still open. His interior is going to be soaked. Fuck.
"Your truck is fine." Alex tells him, fond and exasperated.
It's not one way!
Izzy appears overhead blocking out the sky, her blonde hair pulled back ,hidden beneath a raincoat hood in black. She's looks freaked out and her eyes are deeply intense, "Michael."
Then her head is joined by Alex, a black leather jacket and a yellow sweater, dark eyes full of residual panic and relief.
Michael takes that panic and makes it his own. He cannot not have made an alien bond with Alex without his permission!
He tries to sit up, forcing his body to comply as both try to stop him. The world tilts, he whimpers again and passes out in blessed darkness.
"Michael!"
**
He wakes again, this time pressed to the door of Alex's Ford Explorer. The glove compartment in his line of sight and some of the windscreen. The road is washed in rain water as the skies continue to weep, droplets splashing liberally onto the glass before the wipers clear it.
Panicked, he tries to turn to see Alex and finds Isobel driving instead.
Her hair is wet, her jaw set in worry as she speeds through the rain, eyes fixed on the road. He loves his sister, he thinks, drowning in too many emotions and not all of them are his.
"Izzy," He tries, throat scraped raw.
Izzy's head turns instantly, her gaze sweeping over him. "Oh thank God, you're back with us." She exclaims, her hands tight on the steering wheel. "What the hell were you thinking!"
"Getting mind whammed by an alien device or driving home?" He asks, eyes sliding close.
"Don't you dare pass out on me again!" She demands shrilly, "Or I will torch your trailer."
He doesn't move, "You'd be stuck with me on your couch if you torch my trailer."
"At least I'd know where you are, you maniac." She grumbles. "Here," She tosses a bottle of acetone at him.
"I worship you." Michael tells her fervently and she snorts.
"You damn well better, you asshole."
"Where's Alex?" Michael asks, turning his head to check the back seat where a damp Airman should be sitting.
"I didn't leave him in the middle of nowhere." Izzy bites out, "He's in your truck. We got it started. You'd whine for years if I left it parked there. Although who would take it," She rants as they pass a farm, the fencing badly in need of repair.
Michael drinks the acetone and waits.
"What happened?" Izzy asks, "I've known you to drive to Colorado before and Texas without stopping for anything but gas. You've even delivered parts to Mexico. So why did we find you passed out in the middle of the road asking to be driven over?"
"I was beside my truck, not in the middle of the road." Michael protests halfheartedly. "Is Alex okay?" He knew he was worried, fretting but he needed to ask.
"What happened?"
So he tells her, a version of the truth. That at first he thought it was Alex talking to him, then he realized in the Wild Pony that he was listening to Alex's thoughts. And that he was making both her and Max agitated, easily angered. He tells her that its faulty, random emotions usually strong ones like anger, breach the gap but not a constant awareness.
She tells him that Alex broke up with Forrest two days ago. Michael refuses to hope, figures this connection...this bond is going to make Alex hate him.
"So you followed Salma to Colorado?"
"She needed a ride, I needed a way out." Michael said tiredly. "I never got back into bed with her I swear. I love Alex and I want another chance with him. You know that."
"I would have driven you to Mexico if you needed to bail." Izzy says flatly, hiding hurt and annoyance.
"Yeah but the foreign energy was affecting you, just being around me had you on edge." Michael explains. "And I didn't want Alex to follow me for obvious reasons."
"And you couldn't have just told him?" Izzy said throwing up a hand.
"Would you? In my boots?" Michael defends quietly from his place leaning on the window.
Izzy starts to speak and then shakes her head, "Maybe not. I get that you thought it was like a hand print, but when it didn't fade you should have told me. In case you've forgotten, I have telepathic gifts! I might have been able to sever it."
"No so simple." Michael mumbles.
"Why?" Izzy demands worriedly. "Michael...?"
"Flint said that this device killed Oaisians. He'd seen footage of it doing that. When I clearly survived, all parts intact I thought I'd avoided that fate."
"But now you feel like crap you're telling me this now!" Izzy said angrily, "Michael!"
"It's worse."
"How?" Izzy demands again, afraid now.
"I think the link has become a bond with Alex so I don't die and I have no idea what to tell him." Michael sighs, feeling worse by the second.
"I'll tell him." Isobel says decisively. "You'll make it sound like a death sentence for him."
"I don't know that its not Izzy." Michael frets.
Proving that Izzy always put her brothers' well-being first, she swallowed her fear and anger and shook her head. "I'll explain it." She says gently, reaching out and taking his hand, "Let me explain. Let me do this for you."
Exhausted and tired of being afraid, Michael nodded. "Doesn't that make me a coward?"
"No. It makes you sensible. Stay awake! Michael!"
But the pull of the tide was too strong and Michael fell under, slumping back against the door.
**
Someone is humming a tune.
Someone is also finger-turning his curls, something he rarely bothers to do.
Michael surfaces from the sweet darkness, after what feels like five seconds to find himself lying flat on a bed that smells strongly of Alex. His head is propped on a pillow that smells of his lime shampoo and cedarwood aftershave, the one he started using when he returned to Roswell. And kept using it after Michael had told him he liked it. Not so much when it lingered on the sheets of his bed long after Alex had decided he wasn't worth knowing in daylight.
There is a blanket over him, tucked around his feet and half of Michael wants to just go back to sleep. The rest of him is worried.
He moves fractionally and the humming cuts off, but the hand on his head switches to gently stroking his hair, "Michael?" Alex calls, voice soft.
Slowly Michael turns over, shifting onto his back, legs sliding against an immovable heavy object sitting on the blanket. Marshaling his courage, Michael opens his eyes and sees Alex sitting on the bed next to him right by Michael's thigh, in a room that Michael remembers from seeing on one of their video calls. This was Alex's bedroom, complete with orange blanket and silky smooth sheets.
And Izzy was no where in sight.
Dark eyes watch him closely, his beautiful face set in a neutral expression as Michael's eyes flick around the space, but....
Michael looks at him warily, he can't help it and Alex....he's not angry strangely. Either Izzy hadn't told him yet or the other boot is about to drop. The...link, the bond - use the word Michael, own what you've done - only sings with worry and care, and a complex tangle of different emotions.
The biggst thing, is that Alex, the king of needing space from emotional connections and maybe that's not fair, but hell if that wasn't how he behaved for years...is not on the other side of the room. He's not leaning in the doorway, or sitting on the chair Michael can see from the bed. He chose to sit beside Michael on the bed and softly sing to him.
He wouldn't be doing any of that, if he was beyond pissed or felt betrayed. After all, Michael wasn't just some random guy or 'friend'. They, together or apart, are this... cosmos of heartbreak, love and devotion, a landscape dotted with trauma, shame and need.
"Alex...?" Michael croaks.
"Shh." Alex admonishes gently and hands him a small glass of water. He even helps Michael sit up and the bond sends a stream of warm tenderness through him. "Easy Michael."
Michael, not Guerin or cowboy. His first name said in that gentle tone, in that rich timbre.
Michael closes his eyes against a rush of tears this time. "Hey," Alex says caressing his cheek, eyes so warm, so concerned, a little alarmed. "You're safe. Isobel's gone to collect Max and call a Pod Squad meet. How bad are you feeling really?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Michael asks too worn out to pretend and Alex feels and looks surprised.
"What?" He blinks down at him and then frowns, "You mean why am I not pissed at you for leaving Roswell to protect your siblings' mental health, my privacy and bolting off to Colorado without any help, when you knew Flint had used the device responsible, to kill another of your extended family?"
Confused, Michael nods dumbly. All fair points.
"Yeah..." He shrugs, his hand falling to Michael's blanket covered thigh, "I'm not thrilled. That you couldn't tell me because you were afraid of me? That bites Michael. That really does." His breath is released with a shudder of suppressed pain and the bond lets Michael feel the enormity of it. He's not pissed. He's hurt. That Michael didn't come to him and beating himself up for not...what? Working it out? Being there? Michael doesn't know but he can argue against it.
"Not afraid of you." Michael refutes, thinking; what the hell has Izzy told him?
"Of my reaction." Alex clarifies, feeling no less hurt and his tone is strange. "So I guess you really didn't know? Isobel said that you refused to listen to protect me. That you've hurt yourself now trying to do that."
"Not right. To listen to your thoughts." Michael says hurriedly, not sure where this is going but he figures its nowhere good. "I..."
"Except I've been listening to your heart and thought I was losing my mind." Alex interrupts, dark eyes intent, "It didn't work Michael. Colorado didn't stop the link."
Michael's brain goes offline for a long second. "You...it wasn't one sided?"
Alex shakes his head, his smile soft. He picks up Michael's hand and presses it to his heart. "I thought I was going crazy. Weird moments when I felt something intense. Or an echo to my own feelings. That was you wasn't it? I felt what you feel?"
"I'm sorry Alex." Michael said miserably.
"Shh sheʼashkii. I'm not mad. You wouldn't take advantage of me. You warned me didn't you? Hearing voices?"
Michael looked at him in shock, and there was no denying the love that followed it. Mutely he nodded.
Alex's eyes closed and he smiled dreamily, "Like that." He said huskily. Then he shakes his head again as if to clear it, "Isobel told me that you can't hear my thoughts any more. That the device trying to kill you forged a link between us when I touched you and while you've been trying to purge all the foreign energy in your system, we've been connected. Just random snatches of things. Shared dreams. Now...she said now, to save yourself you've created bond between us."
That was one way to describe it.
"I didn't intend to!" Michael protests, "I was getting worse and I decided to come back to Roswell to tell you what was going on...but half way I started feeling like I was just gonna lie down...and not get back up."
Alex's eyes are shadowed and his heart is full of grief, fear over what could have happened and denial. "That's when you called me."
"Yeah. I don't know what's going on Alex, why we're bonded but..."
"I can guess." Alex says looking at Michael's hand still held between his. He looks up at him slowly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Like Isobel said...I'm your person." He says it like he expects Michael to say no, that Izzy was wrong. But Michael can feel the wild hope fluttering along the bond, the passion hiding beneath the fake calm.
Michael nods instead and then finds words, "Yeah. Never been anyone but you. That I've loved this much." He blinks back fear and tears and adds, "Or will ever love like I do you Alex Manes, so kick me out if you want, but that's the truth."
Alex smiles radiantly, all sunlight and sin, at Michael, then he leans forward and kisses him, stealing his breath as he captures his mouth again and again. Its love and coming home, its' shocking in its intensity, the headiness of how much Alex loves him. Happiness blooms vibrantly in both of their hearts. He pulls back after a moment and says breathlessly, "Good thing you're my person too Michael Guerin."
The front door opens and in spills Izzy shouting that she's back. He can hear Liz and Kyle and Max not a step behind calling for Michael. Half of his family, ready to do battle for him again, as he would for them. "Does this mean...?' He asks hopefully.
"Bond or not...." Alex says hesitantly and yet Michael can feel the surety, the joy in Alex's heart, "I'd like to take you out on a date Michael. I want us to try again. Is that....is that something you want?"
"Bond or not...I'd like that." Michael says and kisses Alex again, joy bubbling over in them both. "I'd love that."