Chapter Text
It’s almost a certainty, given human nature, to gaze up at the stars on a quiet night and wonder if, somewhere in that immense eternity, someone is gazing back. Humans rarely explore the world around them, wondering that, if they stare at the dark pathway in the woods, something beyond their sight is watching them too.
Maybe they should.
What they find might surprise them.
Alex fled the house, his father’s voice following him outside like a physical presence. Coming stateside for leave had been a mistake, coming back to Roswell an even bigger one. There was nothing for him in this godforsaken house except veiled threats, barbed insults, and reminders of the abuse he suffered while under its roof. Nothing to shield him from the fights barely contained beneath its pristine exterior, fights he was in no shape for after the loss of his leg.
He should have expected the evening’s events. Angry words were hurled, followed by fists, fists that had left him battered and bruised. Taking stock of his injuries, he already knew his ribs were broken, his eye blackened. If it wasn’t swollen shut by tomorrow, he’d be surprised. He had landed a few punches of his own, sure to leave bruises as well. He wasn’t seventeen anymore; he could give as good as he got. But sometimes, it was still easier to flee.
He staggered out into the desert, leaning heavily on his crutch but refusing to notice the pain shooting up into his spine from the prosthetic digging into raw skin. It was one more injury stacked on a mountain of injuries. He lost track of how long or how far he walked, only wanting to escape. To run away.
The crutch caught on a rock. Without the support, he tumbled forward, skinning his arms as he hit the dirt.
The impact forced the air from his lungs. He rolled to his side, trying to breathe, his ribs and lungs crying out.
Time lengthened. He felt like he was floating, aware enough to know he wasn’t dying.
He’d done that before.
Maintaining the disconnection, he pushed past the resistance, consciously opening his rib cage to allow air in. Every muscle in his chest and abdomen, his diaphragm, protested the abuse. But the grey threatening to close in around him faded as his brain got oxygen again. Once he pushed past the initial shock and pain, he had no further issues breathing, and he hoped he hadn’t punctured a lung.
A pneumothorax or a hemothorax would have just been a cherry on the horrible cake that was his life these past few months.
He struggled to sit up, muscles he had been vaguely aware only moments ago of screaming at the movement. A repeat scan of his injuries was quick and disheartening. Multiple scrapes on his arms and leg, points of impact that would certainly add to his tapestry of bruises. He hissed as he flexed his foot, his ankle sprained or broken. His crutch lay twisted beyond recognition beside him. Walking anywhere was not an option.
And his phone was back on his nightstand. He groaned and leaned back. He was well and truly stuck out here.
Fear wasn’t an emotion he let himself feel readily. It always lay coiled up and waiting in his subconscious, but he kept it at bay. He refused to release it now.
With night approaching, overheating and sunburns were low on his list of concerns. Freezing, though, was another matter entirely. The sun would take any of the day’s heat with it, and Alex was not prepared to spend the night in the elements.
He tried to crawl or scoot along the ground, careful of his numerous injuries and broken bones, and his prosthetic, but his body couldn’t handle the strain. As the harsh, cold reality of his situation set in, he angrily blinked back tears. If he was stronger, if he still had his leg – he cut off those lines of thought. He survived the IED that took his leg. He would survive this.
Night fell.
Alex had nothing to keep him warm, nothing to keep him company, save for his thoughts. Thoughts that were best kept locked away, never to see the light of day. Thoughts about his father, about the war, about what drove him away from Roswell in the first place, the empty hole where his heart and soul used to be. If he delved too deeply into that darkness, it would trap him down there.
He pulled his jacket tighter and huddled into its hood. Thoughts racing around and around like a hamster trapped on its fucking wheel, he assumed he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but eventually he nodded off.
A hand shaking him startled him awake. He blinked, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Something stood in front of him. He couldn’t make anything out, his brain supplying only a darkness, a void. Just looking at it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins.
You’re not dead.
Alex heard words, but it hadn’t spoken. There was an undercurrent of disappointment, as if it hoped he would be dead. But there was curiosity too. He tried to reply, to match the snark head-on, but his mouth wouldn’t form words.
It pressed against his face, leaving only a tingling sensation against Alex’s skin. A tender gesture that set off every warning bell Alex had. What brings you out here? it mused. Cold, and all alone. The voice seemed feminine, not that Alex could really tell.
Another presence broke in, this one masculine. Leave him alone.
The first protested, He entered the stones of his own volition. That makes him ours!
The townsfolk are off limits, the second explained, a touch of impatience coloring the words. We can’t out ourselves.
The first groaned in frustration, her presence fading as if she moved further away.
We should get him back to town.
A third presence replied, masculine again, By we, you mean me, don’t you?
Two males, one female – of what, Alex couldn’t say, but his brain was too hardwired for information mining to shut it off, the wanting to know.
The third presence sighed. Disinterest and dislike rolled off him in waves. Why I am always left to clean up the messes? he muttered.
The second presence replied, If you would behave, you might be allowed to do more. It faded away as the first presence had, leaving Alex alone with the third one.
Irritation sparked through the air as it rumbled, the words too quiet to make out. Alex caught bits and pieces, enough to know that he’d stumbled into a longstanding dispute.
What the fuck is a human like you doing out here? it asked, finally directing its attention at him. Injured and cold, you’re easy pickins’ for the likes of us.
Whatever alarm bells the first presence had set off in voicing that same sentiment remained silent now. Alex tried to reason his way through it, but his thoughts came sluggishly as unconsciousness beckoned.
Come on, sit up.
Nothing answered his brain’s call to action. Nothing moved.
The presence’s irritation spiked. Are all humans this lazy? Sit up!
Living so long with his father had ingrained an instinctual response to barked commands. Even if Alex had nothing left, his body would respond. If only to avoid more pain. He sat up, grimacing.
Something about the presence’s gaze left him feeling naked and exposed. The way he’d laid down had hidden the majority of the damage. Sitting up, everything was out in full view.
It reached out.
Alex flinched. “Don’t.” He leaned forward, gasping for breath. Talking wasn’t going to be an option. He glared up at this thing through his one good eye, the one not swollen shut, daring it to say something.
The air stilled until only the fresh, cool scent of the desert remained.
I can help.
Unsure what to respond, or how, Alex just blinked slowly.
It crouched beside him, careful to maintain distance between them. A small enough gesture, but, to Alex, it meant everything.
Think, it said, and I’ll hear you. Do you want me to help?
Alex dimly recalled something from his old English teacher’s dronings about ancient lore. Never accept help from creatures unless you know the price you’ll pay. He glanced up and thought, What’ll it cost me?
That drew a smile, or at least, Alex assumed it was smiling. The air shifted not unpleasantly. Nothing yet.
Not an answer, he countered.
It paused before replying. Don’t come looking for us, it finally said. And don’t hurt us.
The first part was easy, narrow and to the point. Besides, Alex assumed he’d finally gone around the bend – he wasn’t about to seek out his own hallucinations. The second…a lot of things could fall under that. He couldn’t see he had much choice though.
Deal.
He expected to feel something, some outpouring of power. But all he smelled was sweet scent of earth after rain as the pain constricting his ribs eased, his sight cleared, his ankle reset.
His prosthetic still dug into the raw skin of his leg, that pain having gone nowhere. He rubbed his thigh absentmindedly.
The presence followed the motion. I couldn’t touch that, it explained. If Alex really wanted to, he could hear an apology underneath the words. If he wanted to.
He shrugged, finally taking a good look at what it was that had rescued him. There wasn’t a solid form to make out, but it appeared vaguely humanoid in shape. If he stared too hard, he could have gotten lost forever. Willingly. Disconcerted, he forced his gaze skyward. I didn’t ask you to, he thought.
Fair enough. The presence stood. Shall we?
Alex struggled to stand. He had worked hard in the weeks after his injury to regain his ability to balance, both with the prosthetic and without. If getting back to town only required him to stand there stupidly, he would have been fine. But walking some undetermined distance without his crutch?
He took one unsteady step.
You’re not about to fall down on me, are you?
He took another step. His leg trembled under the strain.
A feather light touch on his shoulder sent electric shocks down his spine. Every emotion he kept tightly under control threatened to break free.
If you’re so determined to be stubborn, I can stay out here all night, the presence informed him.
Something in its tone set Alex’s teeth on edge but also managed to draw out a weak smile. Fine, he relented. I’ll accept your help.
It chuckled, a rush of air brushing across Alex’s face. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
The ground fall away as some unseen force lifted him up. He braced for pain in his leg, but it never came. Instead, he felt a gentle pressure supporting it. That…Alex couldn’t figure out what to make of that.
A light breeze against his face was the only evidence they were moving, enveloped in what his mind could interpret as nothing but warmth and safety After hours of anxiety and pain and despair, his body finally gave into the exhaustion. He rested his head against what he assumed was a shoulder and resigned himself to sleep.
He groggily came to, every nerve instantly on alert. They were no longer moving. Where are we? he thought.
The presence lowered him to the ground in lieu of replying. It held him steady until he got his feet underneath him.
Alex took in his surroundings. Fear – pure, basic, primal fear – washed over him when he realized he was standing in front of his father’s house. A cold vice gripped him by the throat; he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His very being cried out. He couldn’t face his father like this; he’d never survive.
This is the right place, isn’t it? the presence asked.
Not here, Alex thought, anywhere but here.
“Where the fuck is that good for nothing…?” Glass shattered.
Alex flinched.
No, the presence agreed with him, not here.
Static danced along Alex’s skin when it picked him back up. Belatedly, Alex realized he was feeling its anger. It was angry.
No.
It was furious.
Not at him. For him.
Alex’s world tilted sideways.
Where should I take you? It sounded so lost.
Alex barely had any energy left, but he tried to hold an image of Liz’s house, hoping that it would somehow understand.
Is there anything of yours inside?
He flashed images of his phone, his duffel bag, clothes and laptop.
It sat him back down, further from the house, and vanished.
Alex sat propped against his father’s truck in the drive. He desperately checked each window to see that shadow, but he saw nothing. Just the lights that falsely promised safety.
His leg barely ached as his whole body shook, whether from fear or the cold. Physically and emotionally, he was going to have hell to pay tomorrow.
If he made it to tomorrow.
He leaned his head back. Please don’t be gone, he thought. Whatever had happened to him tonight, he’d never be able to explain, but it could last a bit longer.
Get him away from this awful place.
Miss me already?
Relief flooded through him. He couldn’t help the smile, weak though it was, as he reached his hand out for it to pull him up.
It left him outside the Crashdown. You’ll be safe here?
Safer, he replied.
It nodded. I’ll take it.
A light flickered on. The weight of what little time they had left settled on Alex’s shoulders. What are you? he asked, afraid he’d never get another chance.
Something best left forgotten.
There was something infinitely sad in those words. Alex reached for its hand, felt something solid, and squeezed. “Thank you. For all of this.” It wasn’t enough – it would never be enough.
For a brief second, Alex swore he felt lips press into his hair. The presence faded without another word, leaving him alone and bereft.
He hobbled to the door, knocking loud enough to get Liz’s attention.
More lights turned out, blazing a path through the house and into the café. Liz threw open the door and took in his sorry state.
“Oh my God, Alex, what happened?”
He blinked wearily at her. Even if he had the strength to speak, he doubted he would ever find the words to explain this.
She seemed to understand. “Let’s get you inside, get you warmed up.” She slung his arm across her shoulders and guided him inside.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep under a mountain of blankets that Liz insisted was necessary was the sight of his phone sitting on the nightstand.
He felt safe.
And all he could smell was rain.