Alex was worried.
The word was infinitely better than others Michael could pick, but it didn't really encompass the distress pouring from the bond, the fear, the apprehensive, desperate need for Michael to be okay. And all he wanted was to just reach out and reassure him, take Alex in his arms and promise he was gonna be fine.
But if he didn't help himself, that was going to be a lie.
He do just about anything for Alex, including fight to live it seems.
He couldn't just twiddle his thumbs and hope. He couldn't give up either, it wasn't in his nature and Alex was...breaking in slow motion. Going to war hadn't broken him, neither had Jesse Manes for all both father and son thought he had. Alex was a survivor. But this? Losing Michael to death, that was breaking him.
Michael could feel the spiral happening but couldn't soothe it, couldn't pull Alex up until he was back awake and fine.
So instead of fighting to wake up, Michael remained in the liminal space deep inside his own head, trying to work out what was happening to him.
There was so much he had learned, discovered and for a little while that was what he focused on. He was ecstatic that Alex loved him and for the first time in a long time, he felt they had a chance to make a future together. And he was tempted to just focus on that. I mean who wouldn't be? The dream he thought he might never realize had become reality between what felt like 'one punch and a shot of whiskey' to quote Sanders. He's gone from taking time off to get his head on straight, hearing Alex's thoughts and freaking out, to a full blown bond.
With his soulmate - who he thought had moved on. Michael couldn't really comprehend how much Alex loved him but he couldn't deny its magnitude either, how devoted he was to him, even apart like they were now. Alex dreamed of the same future and Michael was more determined than ever to build it with him.
Of course the problem was that Michael was in no state to lift a teaspoon right now, let alone say marriage vows.
The energy hooks lodged in his head from the alien device were creepy remnants of the attack that caused this situation in the first place and Michael from the inside, couldn't work out if they were the problem. His core temperature was going haywire, his immune system was attacking healthy cells, his heart beat was irregular and his entire body hurt. His core power was weirdly stable with small fluctuations that had Michael nervous, in the same way small quakes often led up to big volcanic eruptions.
He didn't want to die again. Didn't want Alex to go through that for a third time, nor could he trust that Max would be able to save him without consequences. His brother's heart couldn't take it, he was sure and the cycle of die-resurrect hadn't fixed this problem, just put it off.
So rather than freak out, he decided to look at this like an engineering problem. Couldn't hurt. He wasn't doubting Liz, but no wonder in a bottle was gonna fix this, because the root cause was the alien device.
The obvious question was what the device was. That...he couldn't answer easily.
That Flint had the device in the first place was weird. Well yeah it is Flint, but why that device and where did he get it from?
Alex had obliterated Project Shepard over this last year, wiping records and ridding the world of Jesse Manes's influence and legacy. And...the tech wasn't Oasian but Flint mentioned seeing it work, probably in footage - hopefully not in recent times and personally observed - it didn't make any difference to Michael whether it was yesterday or in the Forties, those prisoners were his family, - but it would devastate Alex.
So the device could have been in Caulfield, but could it have survived the blast though? Unlikely. More likely it was in a off-site storage place, Alex hadn't nuked - worryingly suggesting Flint had other stuff. He needed it to get in with this other alien-hunting club so needed to prove it wasn't just a nice metal egg. He needed the weapon design making too, hence Michael in the first place, but this device had been his glory. Why?
Michael mused that he might never have an answer to that question.
Back to the device then. The energy the device contained was far more than Michael had anticipated from its small size. It had reacted only when hit telepathically.
Michael wondered if it was a hive-mind tool. Maybe access to a hive mind like system or into a large group of people telepathically linked. It had made hooks in his head and tried to break his other mental connections, to Alex, to his siblings and if he was right, it was affecting him right now.
Break his telepathic links...that must have been the purpose. If Oasians needed telepathic bonds rather than just being a social construct thing, the enormous toll of protecting the mind from this assault might have been what had killed the prisoner Flint saw. It had basically killed him after all.
Don't freak. You're alive now and planning to stay that way.
Michael tried again to send reassurance along the bond, but he doubted it worked, because there was no break in the steady stream of distress. Shit. Okay. The only way you're going to help Alex is to get better. Focus on that.
So the device had tried to what? Prepare him for the hive mind?
Creepy.
Or being Oasian he just wasn't compatible. And it was the incompatibility that had killed him. If it had worked, maybe this was how those people communicate over distances like a booster? Alien to him and wasn't that a joke? But maybe these devices were how they connected? It could be a part from a ship, or a communication device like he had suspected, with the primary purpose of establishing a mental connection to work.
Or worse, he thought. The device was a way to communicate with other telepathic beings or technology, a bridging device. The hooks then kinda made sense in a really creepy way.
He blocked it from breaking his connections and blew it up. But the hooks remained.
If enough of the foreign energy was still within him, the hooks might still be powered and keeping to their goal of hacking his mental connections, draining him of energy and sending his body into overdrive. Because that was what he thought this was. His body was taring itself apart trying to rid itself of a threat it couldn't recognize. A horse bucking wildly to throw its unwanted rider.
So if this theory was right, he needed to destroy the hook things, to free himself. Because the whole time he'd been in Colorado, the hooks had been causing him damage. His brain was injured and his telepathic...however hell that worked, was damaged too. Unstable. While he had thought he was fine, he was actually destabilizing in slow motion.
The link to Alex worked so well and he instinctively always wants Alex when he's feeling low. The device had, or he had, forged a strong link to Alex when he had been entirely unshielded and then when he was struggling, the hooks or the brain injury doing him in, he had upgraded to a bond.
Had that shaken some hooks free? Had bonding with Alex stabilized him? Given him the primary mental connection he needed, when he had intentionally always kept his links to his siblings shielded and shallow? Maybe. He was tethered to Alex,
How was he going to get rid of the hooks? Especially with this looking-in-a-window approach that the liminal space provided or from the outside in?
**
As it turned out, he didn't have long to strategize or panic about this problem.
He was drifting...feeling unmoored and every attempt so far to remove the hooks hadn't even budged them, when the bond with Alex vibrated suddenly.
His first big warning was a feeling of determination and nerves, feelings not his own and then he felt the bond with Alex...flare brilliantly for lack of a better word. With it, at the same time, he felt his connection to Izzy fight against his shields, like an aircraft fighting hurricane winds.
At first he didn't understand, torn between Izzy and Alex, his thoughts getting more and more sluggish, and by the time he worked it out, he had a crisis on his hands.
Izzy once said that entering his mind was like walking into a sandstorm and dropping off a cliff at the same time. Having been stuck in several bad ones over the years and having falling from height several times, Michael thought this sounded terrifying. Post-dying, alien device trauma, he had spent his time in Colorado strengthening his shields, trying to put himself to rights.
He couldn't help it. They were semi-instinct, mostly willfully created and some lizard part of his brain maintained them at all times. It took concentration to lower them. It took time and the right frame of mind for him to get into the sharing headspace mode, even with Izzy who he trusted like few others. It took courage and trust for Izzy to even attempt anything telepathic with him, after several disastrous failures. When he was in the mode and relaxed enough, they worked pretty well together.
Right now Michael was anything but in the right frame of mind and Izzy was trying to reach him telepathically, using his bond with Alex - which meant his soldier had agreed to let Izzy use his head for this to work.
And now the pair of them were stuck in his shields. In that proverbial sandstorm.
He felt the subtle but powerful presence of Izzy, mentally shouting for him and projecting a call-out with a big dose of apprehension. She was a summer's day, fierce love and a dynamic mind moving with the grace and speed of a side-winding snake along the sands usually. Always Izzy reached for him, her mental greeting bright and bold when this went okay, right now though she was hollering for his attention.
The storm held them at bay and trapped them in the chaos of his head. Behind her though was Alex, his mental presence shining like a star in the night sky.
In the seconds he had, Michael had to do triage. He had no idea how to shift Alex back out of his head safely. Michael himself could jump into someone's head easily, could overpower any mind and bend them to his will. He could slide in and out with no trace, but he had never connected wholesale with a human, actually allowed them into his head.
Heck with his siblings it was a controlled mindscape space. He never let Izzy see his memories, never let her delve this deep which why she couldn't find his consciousness now. He was stressed, in pain and basically felt very unsafe, so she couldn't gain enough of a foothold to create a mindscape. At all turns she was blocked and it wasn't even a conscious reaction.
The bond with Alex was connected to the very core of his consciousness, linked to his powers and Alex was the one person he trusted completely. His person. In a choice between his sister in his head or Alex, he knew which he preferred.
With a longstanding agreement between them, Michael gently but forcefully shoved Izzy out of his head, feeling awful for how afraid she was. Quickly though, he scrambled to build a half-assed mindscape construct that would work in a pinch and caught Alex.
He wrapped him in a blanket of reassurance and love, soothing his understandable fear and panic as he reeled him in, his shields accepting him easily now Michael was aware of him.
Michael was always intensely tactile, hyper-aware of texture and often used it to ground himself in the present. From years of sensory feedback, detailed memory and his own need for the familiar, he recreated the Airstream, right down to the washed smooth texture of his clean sheets and the worn mattress. He made it night time and stretched himself out on the bed, in his most comfortable pair of jeans and an a-shirt.
Alex's mind thought he was falling and because Michael's mind had to supply reasonable physics even in a fake world, he landed beside Michael with a thump. He really tried to make it a soft landing. Alex had spent enough time being thrown around over the course of his life. So close to him he soaked in the sight of him, everything better now Alex was here.
Alex, having been inside this trailer enough times, added his own details automatically as his mind recognized the space, looking around him frantically, eyes skipping over the walls, the kitchenette area, the desk and door. Probably knowing him, trying to work out where he was was and why it looked like Michael's trailer.
The faint smell of smoke, sand, metal and a heavier scent of...rainfall saturated the space and Michael remembered Alex saying that he always smelled of that. Strange. It was kinda strong.
The desk was messy, papers pinned down and books tipping out of the in-built shelves, the sheets to his amusement changing color and pattern, from the green set to the washed-out blue and brown striped ones, Alex was more familiar with. His jeans were on the counter and Alex was searching out things he knew, as landmarks of this trailer.
Once he had those things in place, instead of...well a normal reaction like confusion or fear, Alex relaxed for a count of three. He felt safe.
Then he lurched up on one arm, adrenaline coursing through his body, "Michael!" Alex called out panicking, muscle tensing to fly off the bed to look for him.
"Shh. Easy darlin'. I'm right here. You're safe." Again Michael projected love and reassurance, touching his arm gently, so as not to spook him.
Alex's head snapped to him, dark eyes huge and reached for Michael with a soft cry, body shifting closer on the bed, hands finding their place on Michael's shoulders, his waist. "Michael!" He breathed, worry and that awful distress suffusing the fake trailer like smoke.
"Shh darlin'." Michael said enfolding him into his arms, tucking his face into Alex's chest. Alex melted into him, body falling into his even as he kisses Michael's hair, his temple, hands caressing every inch of him that he can reach. "I'm here."
"You're here." Alex breathes, drawing back far enough to kiss Michael sweetly. Michael enjoyed the kiss, but he didn't have the energy for fervor and Alex knew it. He drew back, worry so tangible it was a a heavy weight. "You're here. Wherever here is. Michael." He says looking around again.
"I ain't Izzy, so this was the best I could do." Michael said not unkindly, settling back onto the bed, because fake or not, he felt better lying down. "You're in the center of my mind, insulated from the chaos. I little space I made." He meant the liminal space, but the fake trailer was included in that.
Alex leaned back to study him and Michael looked hungrily at the features he had missed like crazy for a good chunk of his life. Dark eyes always swirling with emotion, the color of melted chocolate, soft dark brown hair in loose spiky waves, the wide paintbrush sweep of his eyebrows, chiselled jaw and generous mouth.
He's wearing another sweater, this time soft wool and it takes a moment for Michael to work out that the pale brown is familiar because its Michael's sweater. Beneath the stretched collar is a hint of a black t-shirt and his dog-tags.
Alex must have lifted it from his bag from Colorado.
Holy hell, they've not even gone on their first public real date and they're at the swapping clothes boyfriend stage! He's not even annoyed at the fact Alex had gone into said bag, only thankful he washed everything at the ranch. What was he looking for? He had nothing really to hide like that and strangely didn't mind. He'd be pissed at anyone else and so would Alex.
Knowing Alex, it was probably to wash his laundry or something or check for his phone to put on charge. He was sweet like that. Or he wrestled the bag off of Izzy who definitely would have snooped around, checking to see if he needed new jeans or had like pictures of Salma on his phone.
The delight of seeing in his clothes, is out gunned only by the realization that Alex was wearing it for comfort.
He went into that bag looking for something to wear that was Michael's.
And wore it publicly. In front of their family.
The fluttery feeling remained and wouldn't budge.
Alex smiled faintly and stroked his cheek, "Okay. And..."
"And Izzy and I are gonna have words later, about using you as a jumpstart into my head." Michael told the ceiling with heat.
"She's worried about you." Alex defends, "We all are. I'm terrified for you. Michael you're in a coma. Your heart rate keeps fluctuating and nothing is working."
Michael hears the broken notes in his rich timbre and winces, stroking Alex's shoulder tenderly, "I'm getting there. I promise."
Alex's face is a mix of determined and devastated, eyes full of tragedy and hope. The bond resonates loudly with love, devotion and something like fear. That's what they have, fear that this relationship days old and thirteen or more years in the making might be over before it can really flourish.
Alex doesn't reply and surprises Michael by kissing his forehead, nose and the closest they ever come to a chaste kiss on the lips. "You can't leave me." He whispers, defiance and a plea in his tone. "I'll go with you. I can't...I won't do this without you."
Cold washes over Michael as he comprehends just what Alex means and fights not to reply angrily or start crying. As steadily as he can, he says tenderly, "I'm not going anywhere. You're staying. You broke up with Long and you chose to stay. Why would I go?"
"We were never really together." Alex tells Michael's neck, "The only person I want is you. I love you. And you might die and you can't not know that. You have to know! I didn't tell you before and went to war and I nearly died and its been..."
Michael knew Alex could feel his joy, but Michael knows now. Knows how deep that love is, knows he loved Michael getting on that bus to Basic and getting off it a Captain. "I love you too. Always have, always will."
Alex's throat worked and a soft sob broke against Michael's neck, a hand buried in his curls, the other arms hooked around his shoulders. "Michael,"
"We've got a future together Manes, I won't give that up now."
Dark eyes glitter with tears and hope, when Alex slowly drew back, "Kyle says you're...."
"Valenti hasn't got alien hooks in his alien brain." Michael tells him flatly. Kyle didn't actually warn his siblings and Alex that Michael might not make it right? He wouldn't take hope from them...but if it was really that bad, Michael might not be giving him a choice. He could imagine the reasons and the conversation. Michael wasn't getting better, maybe getting worse. Liz couldn't make a wonder cure or was still trying, Max wanted to move him, Izzy wouldn't leave him and Alex was likely existing by his side. Maria would be scared for him and trying no doubt to keep Izzy and Alex together.
"Hooks?" Alex repeats horrified, dark eyes going wide, tears still spilling down his cheeks. Grief and fear swirling like sharks. Michael can feel it, though his face looks dismayed, what he feels is ten times that. Michael knows this is all in his head, but also knows its likely that Alex really is crying in the real world. So he very gently, pulls down his sleeves like they're still seventeen and dries his eyes.
Michael tries to picture it and says slowly, "Like..what's it called in mountaineering when you throw a line?"
"Rappelling? Anchor line?" Alex offers, his expression suggesting he was grasping at this information with all the strength in him.
"Yeah maybe that one. The alien device Flint had...I didn't understand what was going on at the time Alex," Its imperative he tells Alex this, explains that he didn't know. "I was so out of it, nothing really made sense...I saw you. I know that." For a second he remembers that feeling, the tidal wave of emotion at seeing him in the barn, and judging by the sharp inhale he hears, Alex feels it too.
"It...tried to take over my mind...tried to dissolve all my telepathic connections...I think I...died..." Alex's face already distressed, shutters and the pain that sings along the bond steals Michael's breath.
"Max brought you back." Alex tells him shifting closer again as if sharing the same breath will eradicate the memory of stilled hearts and unseeing eyes. His hands are restless, caressing Michael's chest and capturing one hand holds it to his heart, his voice heavy with grief, "I lost you. I got you back... but I lost you and you left and I....Michael.."
Michael presses his hand to Alex's chest, "Shh. You can't lose me. I wanna be wherever you are."
Alex makes a pained, choked sound and buries his face against Michael, who holds him tightly. After a few minutes, or at least it felt like it, Alex says, "I've lost pieces of me Michael. I left here broken all those years ago when we were kids and I've lost so many pieces. My leg, myself...I...."
He lifted his head eyes swirling with pain and the bond sang with it, but it was echoed with love, with need. "Guerin, you are the one piece I cannot go through life without."
Michael felt choked with emotion but he caressed Alex's face, thumb tracing his lips. Gathering himself, he cupped the back of his head, cradling his precious, fragile skull, thumb caressing the wing of his cheekbone down to the hinge of his jaw and let him feel all the love he holds for Alex, his complete acceptance of him. Let him feel everything, let him realize just how deeply rooted within Michael's mind and heart he really was.
Sometimes Alex couldn't accept himself and very few had ever accepted him. Parts of him, versions and facades, shadows and facets or none of him. Michael accepted all of him, treasured every single piece and no problem with who is he. Michael knows his flaws and loves them too.
Alex tried to hold his gaze, but eventually it got too much and closed his eyes, tears falling like desert rain down his jaw.
"I ain't leavin' you. If you're broken, I'll pick up all the pieces of you and keep them for you. Whether they cut me or not. Every piece of you is precious to me, Alexander Manes."
Alex's eyes were so bright, wet with tears and he fell into Michael, dragging with him all his devotion and that sweet, sweet heart with him.
**
How long they remained nestled together Michael couldn't say, time had no meaning here but it was long enough for Alex's breathing to normalize and for his tears to dry. For the tidal force of his emotions to settle down somewhat, coaxed into relaxing a little by Michael holding him.
If he ignored all else, this really did seem like a lazy afternoon in the Airstream, entwined together with only things like finding dinner and maybe another round of epic sex to worry about.
Alex shifted back a little, not letting go of Michael but not tightly gripping him either. His eyes were clear and still worried, fingers restless as they caressed his chest. "This is crazy." He said with a quiet laugh.
"Yeah. What's the current theory?" Michael asked, thinking.
"Liz thinks that your energy is tangled up with the foreign energy, the alien energy." Alex says gently, like he's trying to soften a blow. "She thinks your powers activated so young you learned how to use it more efficiently, or learned how to convert other types of ambient energy. That's why you don't tire like Max or Isobel. The theory is that your body is holding onto the power or can't get rid of it easily. Maybe its these hooks that you mentioned? "
That...did make a lot of sense.
Michael always assumed that there was a minimum age for powers. His activated at the age of nine after the occult he was with, decided branding him with a burning cross was the only way to exorcise the demon or kill him if he was the demon. They manifested out of fear and it had taken years to learn how to control and use them effectively. Maybe on their home planet there was special training for kids, and he wondered if his Mom had taught him early techniques. It was a bittersweet thought.
"Michael?"
"Tangled up?" He repeats and Alex looks at him worriedly. "That does make sense. If there is enough of that energy circulating through my system it might be what's powering the damn hooks."
"And the hooks are?" Alex asks staring at him earnestly.
So he explains his theory and admits he thinks they were what has been wearing him down. He explains that he thought it was the whole ordeal and maybe the stress of it all that made him think he was just overtired, admitting he hadn't been sleeping carefully avoiding all mention of Alex's nightmares. His body was recovering and he thought the low-grade headaches were from blocking the link to Alex's thoughts and the rawness of his connection to his siblings, again from blocking it for so long.
"I'd rather you listened to my head, horrible as it would be, than give yourself a migraine." Alex grouses.
"Nothing wrong with your head." Michael says fiercely, poking him in the chest. "It wasn't right to be assaulting your head."
"The link was forged because I'm your person and I touched you first when you had no shields." Alex replies firmly, dark eyes intent. "Okay, I wouldn't showcase the shit in my head, wouldn't want to put you through that, but it wasn't assault."
"I wouldn't call it a showcase and since you're talking to me, there isn't any shit in your head that 'll ever make me stop loving you. We both got trauma. I can't forgive myself for doing this to you without even talking to you about it, let alone getting permission." Michael tells him, letting him feel just how upset about it he was. "Not right."
Alex's face softens and he strokes Michael's cheek with the backs of his fingers, "If you told me you needed it, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. I want this with you." He sounded so sure and you can't lie in the mindscape.
"I want a life with you."
Alex doesn't pause, flinch or run. He smiles beatifically and says, "I want a life with you too."
Michael has to kiss him, and it feels like confirming a vow.
"Where am I right now?"
"My bed." Alex says reassuringly and Michael is still a little floored at that.
"Okay. You perhaps better move me Private. If de-tangling this is gonna involve energy shedding, maybe a residential area is a bad idea."
The emotions he can feel are messy and Alex's eyes are wide, mouth flattened as if he's biting down on words. "What? I can feel what you feel Alex and you're in my head. What's going on?"
"Don't be upset." Alex begins and wow, what a way tor reassure.
"Okay. Now you're worrying me. Alex?"
"Max thought we should move you anyway, I didn't want to because you were fine where you are and," Alex says glancing from his chest where he's caressing Michael's sternum back to his eyes.
"And?"
"It went wrong." Alex admits.
"Wrong how? I'm not that heavy." The joke falls flat when Alex's emotions stray into upset territory. "Alex?"
"You had a panic attack Michael. You punched Max and kicked Kyle. Isobel tried to restrain you with her powers so you didn't hurt yourself and that went wrong too. You turned the power around so she had to let go and then you threw all of us away from the bed. You couldn't really stand but you put your back against the wall. You mentally warded us off and then collapsed. You had a seizure and we haven't tried since. It wasn't your fault!"
Michael remembering the dreams can figure what he thought they going to do to him and who he thought they were.
"I got restrained a lot at the group home." Michael tells him, not looking at Alex's face. "A lot of...punishments...And you know...Flint. Waking up being moved...was always...bad..."
Alex flattens his mouth into a line and oh Alex knows what is to be hurt, to want a wall against your back, to be afraid. And its killing Alex that he couldn't make it better, that out of his head Michael was afraid of Alex, of his siblings. All people who would shoot themselves before they would hurt him.
"You don't have to explain." He says softly, smiling reassuringly, "Not me. Not anyone. It wasn't your fault, no one is blaming you and you didn't hurt anyone. Max can take a punch and Kyle is fine. Isobel is fine."
"Did I break anything?" Michael asks voice very small.
"No." Alex says reassuringly. "And I wouldn't have cared if you had."
'Did I hurt you?" Michael asked, suppressing the storm of emotion that wanted free. Very afraid that he had.
Alex cradles his face and makes him look at him, "No. I told them not to. To leave you be. You were scared and I...I have done anything to make you feel safe." Those pretty dark eyes crinkle at the corners, "Max got a bruise. Kyle's pride was a little banged up. "I might have been angry with them. I told them to leave you alone. Then I just sat with you. Played. You calmed down. But since then, you haven't moved."
Michael could imagine it. Alex perched on the bed with his guitar singing softly, pissed that their family hadn't listened, shaken that Michael had been afraid and protective of him. Reliving no doubt all the times he too had been cowed against a wall waiting for pain. Unwillingly comparing those moments.
"I'm sorry." Michael says very softly, knowing Alex can feel what he's feeling so lying is moot point.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Alex says fiercely, gathering him into his arms again. "Nothing baby."
**
There was no holding Alex back now he had information and something to take on.
He was ready to wage war on the world on the alien remnants hooked into Michael and the hope that powered him, fed Michael's dwindling supply, renewing his own fighting spirit. That and the sobering realization that he was holding two lives in his hands, his and Alex's.
Alex was fixated, dragging him away from the precipice of despair, fueling the same drive that finds a single line of code that changes an entire battlefield and destroys generations of legacy in an unwavering attack.
Alex loves him, perhaps too much. The grim prospect of Michael not surviving this, tore at the foundation of Alex's world. It wasn't ego either. Michael could feel the bleakness, the grief that waited with every moment Michael wasn't waking up. Kyle had terrified him by being wholesale honest, admitting just how bad Michael's health was and for somehow who had struggled with suicide in the past...that combination had him spiraling out of control.
He seemed calmer when Michael suggested he go back. He of course wanted to stay, but Michael didn't know if there was a price for Alex to remain connected to him, being human and this the odd little liminal space that didn't often make sense to Michael.
"Plus darlin', someone has gotta explain this to the others."
Reluctantly, Alex eventually agreed, but still reached for Michael even as he was being steered out the mental door.
Michael really, really loves him and made sure that feeling was front and center in Alex's mind.
Then he got to work.
**
The well-worn alert system in his brain was what actually woke him this time.
That and the heat, the sound of rain close by. He felt like he was standing in front of a furnace, his entire being cooking. The sheets were damp with sweat...but they weren't his sheets. And the thought led him to stare around the room groggily, realizing too slowly, his thoughts heavy like syrup or high-temp engine lubricant that this place was not his trailer, or Max's spare room, or Izzy's...or anywhere else in the really limited pool of people willing to have someone as feral and fucked up as him in their homes.
The things in the room didn't clue him in either, not at first. He didn't recognize any of them, not the nice artwork or the chair. It was the single crutch propped against the wall that allowed him to add one and one. Alex.
What was he doing in Alex's bedroom?
He couldn't remember....
The power that had woken him in the first place, surged again. Leaving him out of breath as pain ripped through him. His power was turbulent, his telekinesis wanting out, like a horse breaking down a stable door.
Do not break anything.
The directive he gave himself felt like a brand, like the cross the occult had burned into his arm. The old terror of the group home and his foster places, resurfaces so easily. Do not break anything. This is Alex's place and...he's built this place not stone by stone like some pioneer movie. No, but he took four walls and took the tiny city where he had experienced his greatest traumas - childhood ones at least - and made it his own.
Alex built himself a home even if he didn't call it that, found himself and who he wanted to be inside this one-story rancher. And the very last thing Michael wanted, was to be the one who broke it.
The heat was so intense, he couldn't think. The pain was fading, so he could breathe without screaming and his battered body was telling him none too kindly, that if he didn't move his ass out of Alex's space, that directive was gonna be paper on a fire.
His power overflow mechanism was barely holding the tide back. He had untangled the energy, his from the alien device by gathering the unknown power. That now had to go somewhere since his body was rejecting it.
And dying on Alex's bed wasn't right and it was likely to be explosive and Alex would lose his home.
There was an IV line connected to his hand, probably at east half acetone and he pulled it out uncaring of the wound it left behind, being unceremoniously yanked out. Dragging his protesting body up was ridiculously hard and in the back of his mind, he realized he was wearing loose sweat pants, something he didn't own. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, but that was okay. His boots were right there. He struggled to put them on, like a drunk the floor swimming away from him.
Staggering upright, he lurched towards the door. Where was Alex?
Didn't matter. He needed out. He had to get out and he could break anything.
The door banged open assaulting his head and grey shapes kinda lunged at him, his vision going white for a moment. He flung out his hands to deflect them, had a half second to panic he was going to make something explode or furniture was gonna fly around the room. That always happened in the group homes when he was startled and the pain afterwards....
There were banging noises and he grimaced, trying harder.
Still he panicked and his fingers curled into claws forcing everything to just stop. He clung to the wall panting, tilting and swaying like he really was drunk and this spot right here was all that could hold him up. The pain came again and he gasped, banging his head hard against the wall to clear it. Ow. That burst of pain helped.
What was he doing again?
Why was it so hot?
No....he was leaving. He had to get out and couldn't break anything. This is Alex's house. Get out. Don't break anything.
Or throw up, when his stomach lurched.
The lights overhead flickered and he knew that was him, the power rippling over his skin in waves. His body rejecting it, his own brand of power potent with how bad he was feeling, ready to help him survive even though it might ironically be the thing that kills him. His heart was beating too fast, his breath short and the heat had sweat dripping from his skin.
The world was grey and flickering lights, but he knew the layout from that time he had come here when Alex was missing and met Jesse Manes poking around the living room. Like a trained military hacker dude was just gonna have his top-secret files in a neat pile on the coffee table.
So with his eyes closed, he relied on his usually excellent spatial awareness to guide his feet to the front door. Which was shut and he could feel from his telekinesis a resistance that said locked. Alex had locked him in? No. Be fair, Alex has that security system installed...
If that same system activated...
Michael thought about it, ignoring the white noise that was steadily getting worse. He knows how this works....tamping down harder on the rejected energy had him nearly blacking out in Alex hallway, crashing into the wall...
Okay. Breathe in, breathe out. Hand on the wall push yourself upright, think about the door. At a snail's pace or at least that's what it felt like, he disengaged the security system and blindly unscrewed the hinges holding the door on. He slotted it out and stepped into the night, focusing to reattach it as he stumbled onto Alex's front step.
The night air hit him with a cool wind and the rain was gloriously cold, shocking his overheated body.
It poured from the sky drenching him in seconds, soaking through his curls washing away the sweat. He swayed like a tree in high wind before he remembered what he was doing. Getting out.
No...he'd done that. He was outside. Now what?
His eyes fell on his Chevy parked in Alex's driveway and even with how bad he felt right now, the sight of it had a lump forming in his throat. Alex had very sweetly parked it so the driver door was accessible, parked as it was next to Alex's Ford Explorer. He needed to get to the desert, discharge this power if it killed him. Away from people, away from Alex.
Problem was, he was really far too compromised to be driving.
And sadly this was not Max's place, where to reach unencumbered desert all you had to do was open the back door. Alex lived in a nice, quiet neighborhood. Just closing his eyes with a tiny use of power and in this heightened state he could feel all the life along the street.
He staggered forward knowing that he was seconds from dropping to his knees and reached the driver door, clinging to the truck frame. The old Chevy had barely any electronics and so took the - what was from him right now - tiny discharge of electricity without any real damage.
But still, this was his truck so if he could just make it to the desert, it didn't matter if he crashed. No one else would suffer for it.
Michael!
His name was yelled, terror, panic and need folded around each syllable and it rang in his head. A rush of emotions followed, panic and distress, love and the need to get to him. Michael doubled over gripping his car door like it was only safe thing in the universe. The rest of him tried to react, to sync up collapsing body and alarmed mind so he could do something useful.
He looked up, vision blurry to see a dark shape bullet from the front door of Alex's house, through the reattached door at a dead run. Even in this state, he recognized Alex. It wasn't exactly far from door to pick-up truck, its not like Alex has a mile long driveway.
If he had his wits and a functioning responsive body, he would be launching into the truck and driving off. That he thought was the responsible thing to do. But he doesn't, so Alex reached him in seconds, the bond between them a live-wire of sensations. Automatically, Michael sent reassurance along the bond but the Alex that nearly collided with him was anything but soothed.
"Michael!" Hands that felt cold touched his arm and chest, dark eyes like melted chocolate met his, wild and panicked. Alex was breathing fast which was weird because the guy was incredible fit and the driveway was really short.
"What the hell are you doing?" Alex demands, hand tightening on his arm as if ready to pull him back into the house.
Michael locked his knees, defiance warring with his own panic. Desperate and barely coherent, Michael sent to him a clear image of the desert and the feeling of burning from within. He showed him the desperation he was feeling to get away from a populated area, the ticking bomb of overloaded power threatening to consume him and everything around him. It was no joke or exaggeration.
He possessed explosive telekinesis for one thing. Alex's house would disintegrate. His neighbors would die, a fire was inevitable and energy this wild would start one easily. Power had to be ground to the earth, like a lightning strike. And he was pretty sure when released this overload would be a lightning strike. Last time he set the tree on fire.
Alex jerked as his head was basically assaulted by images and feelings not his own. But being who he was, Alex didn't flinch away or let go of Michael. "You can't get there on your own." He says sharply, understanding.
"Dangerous." Michael rasps, throat raw.
Alex hears his denial, can probably feel it, if he's projecting like he thinks he is, but Alex shakes his head. Defiant and protective. "I'll take you." He says firmly, "I'll get you to the desert."
Michael wants to say no, wants to shrug of his arm and go along, but his knees won't support him. He tries to tell Alex this mentally but he doesn't succeed because Alex steps into him and takes his weight. Instead of carting him back to the house, Alex wrestles with him, half-carrying him over to the passenger door and helps him in. "I still have your keys anyway." Alex tells him as he hurriedly gets in.
Michael could tell him that he can start the truck with his mind, but can't really get his head and mouth to sync up. He just lists sideways tucking himself into Alex's side on the bench seat as Alex starts his baby up, reversing out his drive. "Is there anything else you need?" Alex asks worriedly.
"You." Michael tells his flank as he settles in, the vibrations and motion setting his head off.
A hand drops from the steering wheel to caress his hair, "You've got me sweetheart."
They drive out to the desert, Alex sending a message on his phone presumably back to their family. Max and Izzy are going to be pissed, but Michael knows too that this power will be attracted to them. It will jump from him to them and he can't risk that.
"Where's Max n' Izzy?" He asks slurred.
"Do you want them?" Alex asks instead.
"No."
A pause and then Alex answers, "Back at the house. You were pinning them down to the floor."
"Pin...what?' Michael asks horrified. "How?"
"You exited the bedroom and when Max and Liz tried to get close to you..you...made everything stop. Everything kinda froze in the room."
"Shit." Michael murmurs, "Are they okay?"
"Apparently, they're fine. Isobel and Maria are there now with Kyle." Alex tells him, sounding unaffected. As if he was talking about the weather, not alien powers in his living room. "They went out. I was making coffee. You didn't seem to hear me and I couldn't move for a few seconds either, until you removed my front door with your mind, then reattached it. Max and Liz were still stuck when I left."
"Shit." Michael repeats, "Alex,"
"Nothing to be sorry for." Alex says firmly, "You pinned them because you were protecting them. I texted that."
Protecting Michael. Michael steals Alex's hand from his hair, kisses it and says, "Really hot get away driver."
Alex just snorts, but Michael can hear the blush, "Fevered and overpowered but your pickup lines are still cheesy."
Michael just grips his thigh and concentrates on holding the power at bay and the feel of Alex beside him. He focuses on Alex's hand in his curls, his head on Alex's lap beneath the steering wheel, uncaring of seat belts and safety. The feel of the sweater beneath his cheek, so longer smelling of just him, but of Alex's aftershave and that perfect scent that was all his soldier. His forehead pressed to Alex's abs and it came be comfortable but Alex doesn't seem to care.
As soon as the road turns bumpy Michael rasps out for him to stop. He lurches up and scrabbles for the door, "Don't follow!"
He nearly falls to the ground but manages to stagger into the desert, a lonely patch off the highway filled with scrub land plants and miles of sand.
The cosmos is vast and stunning above him as he falls to the ground, body betraying him as he lets the power out.
Michael plunges the freed power, de-tangled as he promised Alex from his own, straight into the earth. Its agony, and he screams with it, grasping the threads that make up the hooks and pulling the energy out. Like pulling out a stitch, uncaring of the flesh you rip with it, except this is in his head.
"Michael!"
He feels it even in the middle of so much pain and hears it too, the frantic desperate call of his name.
Alex was nearby, close enough for this to be dangerous and Michael still has the capacity to curse.
His soldier would face anything, with dignity and strength, of course he wouldn't leave Michael to fight alone.
That thought, all the love he has for his troubled soldier, his beautiful Alex is enough for Michael to find strength he didn't know he had, reserves of willpower that kept him alive through the worst situations, until he couldn't. He taps into it and again the agony has him screaming into the night, as he tightens his grip on the dirt beneath his fingers, feels the earth and pulls.
Its the rumble of an earthquake and the bite of icy cold wind. For a suspended moment he can feel is all the life in the desert, the bright sparks of life and the bigger ones further away in Roswell. There is one off to the side of him, burning too bright to look other eclipsing the other life forms around them, but the pain chases away any hold on his attention that he has.
It doesn't matter. He would know Alex's energy signature anywhere.
Michael falls to the sand and gives up, plummeting into darkness.
**
He surfaces from the blackness of space, the fathomless depths of nothing with a gasping breath, like a diver taking that first gulp of replenishing air.
For a long moment he's lost. The stars are above him, so bright against the backdrop of the inky blue, constellations forming patterns he recognizes even fuzzy and confused with everything else. Its cold and he can smell the desert, the dust and loneliness of it. Then he feels something else, so massive he can't comprehend it.
Poking at it like a sore tooth he's rewarded with a deluge of emotion and a tumble of panicking, spiraling thoughts not his own.
Distressed he turns his head and meets soft fabric and warm skin, the zing of contact telling him its Alex.
At that he forces his eyes open.
He's lying partly on the ground, legs splayed out in the sand, cradled to Alex's body. "Michael?" And its the best sound in all the world. Framed by the stars, Alex's dark eyes meet his, his face bone white with fear, mouth trembling as he looks down at Michael. He looks wrecked and so relieved they both drown for moment in the feeling.
Michael reaches out and finds Alex's hand gripping his. He tugs about as strong as a newborn baby but brings those wonderful long fingers to his face, "It worked." He rasps, checking and finding no trace of the hooks.
Alex bends over him with a soft pained noise, "Michael. It was...you were..."
"Shh darlin'. I'm back. We're okay."
**
The night sky was beautiful, tinged violet as the sun disappeared, the moon ethereal and transcendent.
The flames in the fire pit crackled, the orange spears flickering as the breeze drifted over the garden, shaking the tree overhead adding the rusting of leaves to the sounds of the nighttime.
But buried beneath his blanket, Michael barely felt the slight chill as he leaned further back into the headrest, feet propped up. He had a cold beer in one hand and the night sky above him, two of his oldest companions.
This time however, was different. This was Alex's little oasis at the back of his house, private from his neighbors as his was the only backyard facing this way and secluded by the trees and fencing. Michael was half-lying on an outside daybed, while Alex was inside doing his thing, but he'd be out soon enough.
It was a nice daybed, made from up-cycled crates or pallets with a decent mattress on top, purchased and placed out here for one purpose. To watch the stars. Michael thought this was both endearing and deeply touching. As kids they had watched the stars together, it had been their thing but Michael had thought perhaps it was something left in the past. This right here proved otherwise.
The stars still meant solace and peace for Alex, still connected them. Proof Michael thought that the handful of star dust of the universe that had built them both, must have come from same star.
And a daybed certainly beat the cold metal of his Chevy, even though he suspected they would be making out - and more - in the back of his pick-up truck soon enough.
Right now he was prescribed bed rest and had to be watched for any sign of recurrence or subsequent alien device related health problems. His siblings both offered, worried about him, but he had chosen to stay right here with Alex. A little vacation away from the world for a few days while he put himself back together and they learned how to navigate a mental bond, being in a relationship for real before the big public debut.
What gave him hope and confidence however, was that Alex was determined to have that date and had in fact booked more. Crashdown party later in the week to celebrate his return to normal, a date at the Wild Pony and Max's barbecue. That the bond told him how happy Alex was to have him here, how worried he was and of course, let him tap so easily into the vast ocean of love that Alex holds for him.
It was bizarre and strange and wonderful. Because Alex didn't want him to leave, was anxious about it in fact. There was a need in Alex, such simple things made him happy, like making him dinner just because, Michael reading at his side, - domestic things, couple-things.
The feeling along the bond alerted him and Michael scooted over to the side on the daybed leaving plenty of room for his soldier, just before the back door swung open, screen door shutting with that unmistakable sound. Alex padded into view, gorgeous as ever in loose black pants and his commandeered brown sweater.
"Hey there Cowboy." Alex greeted as he came up to the daybed, sweeping down to kiss Michael. And oh what a kiss. Alex swiped his tongue over Michael's lips who opened for him immediately, relishing the heat and love dancing along the open bond. He wasn't blocking at all tonight, so felt Alex's love, concern and satisfaction. "Mmm, so good." He crooned as they broke for air.
Knowing how loved he was, had really given Alex confidence. That and through the bond he could feel Michael all the time.
A tug had him laughing and sitting down on the daybed, snuggling into Michael's side like it was an automatic reaction now. "You okay? You're not cold are you? Is one blanket really enough? Is your head any better? Ah wait, my prosthetic is metal, its cold and... "
"I'm good baby." Michael reassured him, not really sure what to do with his worry and fretting. "I feel better. What about you? Work all done?"
Alex curled into the bubble of heat as Michael hoped he would and let out a happy sigh, "All done. Soon I'll be a free man. No more Air Force."
'You'll always be the Captain of my heart." Michael says and Alex flicks him in the stomach and groans, burying his face in his chest to hide his frankly adorable blush. Didn't bat an eyelid at violence, insults, or seriously epic sex, but corny one liners from Michael seemed to always do him in. Trick was not to say them too often. Didn't want him building resistance, because this blush was just too precious.
"That was so bad." Alex complains, burrowing under the blanket.
"You happy about this?" Michael asks cautiously.
"Cuddling with boyfriend under the stars, hell yeah." Alex deflects and shifts to a more comfortable position, his head on Michael's chest, his arm over Alex's shoulder, heads pressed together. Bliss.
"Leaving? Retiring?" Michael checks, "Been a big part of your life."
"You hate the military." Alex points out, something like concern and something vaguely like irritation seeped over the bond. "I thought you would be happy I'm leaving."
Michael tap-danced around the issues that remain between them like landmines and just says, "I want you to be happy."
Alex kisses his jaw, touched and the irritation vanishes. "I am happy, I'm with you. I'm good with retiring. Not sure what I'm going to do now, but I have a lot of good skills and time to decide."
Michael takes his hand and discovers the best way to make Alex melt, by kissing his hand, "We got time. You've got a lot of skills and you've got me."
Alex turns and kisses him again, cups Michael's cheek, rubbing along the curve of his jaw with his fingertips. "As long as I have you, there is nothing else I want."
How Alex can just say these things is a mystery, and the bond sings with quiet happiness and a contentment neither of them have ever had before.
Michael turns ever so slightly and its like thirteen or more years disappear, and they're kids again sharing kisses in the desert, tangled together with no where they would rather be.
Wherever they go from here, Michael knows it will be together. A road that already has brought them happiness and a bond that wraps their souls in love and a lightness that erases some of the dark. They might both be broken, but their shards and pieces fit together, something new made in the shattered, scattered parts.
Together they were going to make a home.