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The impact is jarring.
“Shit, sorry,” the apology comes quickly and from his spot on the ground, Alex tries not to pray for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He wishes he had two left feet instead of the awful truth, “here, let me—“ he drags his eyes from the hand to the face and inhales sharply.
“Guerin?”
He looks different. Older. But the pain in his eyes is chillingly the same. Alex ignores the hand and finds his footing as he makes his way to his feet. It’s not how he saw this reunion going. Then again, nothing is how he saw it. Michael’s hand lingers for a moment before it falls to his side. He tucks it away before Alex can see the scars and while he appreciates the sentiment, they’ve been burned into the back of his eyes since the hammer was brought down. He focuses instead on Michael and forces himself to take in the man he’s become. He’d be lying if he said it hurts but he’s got no right to feel anything about how Michael’s turned out.
“Hi,” Michael says and however Alex was expecting his voice to sound, small is not it. Something shows on his face because he can pinpoint the instant Michael’s walls come down, “what are you doing here?” He asks.
“That’s—“
“Classified?” Michael offers and Alex rolls his eyes at his tone, “didn’t realize the ufo emporium was hosting actual aliens these days.”
“I was going to say none of your business,” Alex cuts in, “I figured you’d be long gone by the time I came back.”
Michael scoffs, looks away and Alex feels his hackles rise. Michael’s looking for a fight, again. Apparently nothing has changed. The scruffy, hollow look is still the same, he’s still finding sleep in the bottom of a bottle. Alex doesn’t know how someone so bright can throw their lives away like that, but hell there’s a lot about him Alex knows he’ll never understand. He’s got better things to do with his time anyway.
“I guess if you ever came back you’d have known,” Michael sneers. It’d be an ugly thing if there wasn’t something so sad about it.
“I never had a reason to come back,” he says instead, “and you’re right. Now the reason’s classified.
“Well I’ll let you get to your super secret alien business,” he says with a fake salute, “oh there’s a metal detector in there now,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks away, “don’t forget your keys, coins and whatever else you’ve got.”
Alex cringes at the thought of struggling out of his prosthetic. Or presenting that stupid card he was given. His mouth goes dry. He doesn’t want to answer the questions that will follow. Not today. He decides this trip was stupid, he’s not a teenager trying to get out of the house. He’s an adult who can leave whenever he wants.
Besides, he doesn’t exactly need to seek out memory lane when it’s apparently walking around town.
“Nothing ever changes with you, does it?”
Michael’s shoulders stiffen and Alex immediately regrets his question. He could blame it on the liquor but he knows that’s not it. Not after a night of watching Michael slip in and out of dark corners with different people. There’s a growing pain in the back of his skull but he’s pushed past worse. Right now he’s focused on Michael. Michael sets down the glass and glares at him.
“You got something to say?” He challenges and Alex feels his muscles tense.
“I just did,” he shoots back.
“Screw you,” Michael snaps and much to Alex’s shock he turns and walks away.
Maria shoots him a look and shakes her head but Alex is past caring. He follows him. He has orders to be here and he can’t do that if every moment Michael is there making different parts of him hurt. He follows him out into the night, wincing at the sounds of a fist slamming into brick. When he gets there Michael has his arms braced against the brick and his face turned away.
“What’s going on?” Alex questions.
“What the hell do you care?” Michael questions.
“There’s no way you’ve been on this kind of bender for this long,” he says, “you’d be dead.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“That’s not funny,” Alex snaps, “I have to be here,” he says, “I have orders. I have to be here,” Micheal presses his forehead against the brick, “it’s got nothing to do with you. You have—“
“No reason to go on a bender?” Michael fills in.
“Yes,” Alex says.
Michael makes a sound that sends chills down Alex’s spine. It’s a wounded sound, something that makes him think he’s never going to hear a laugh properly again. He had hoped pointing out he didn’t want to be there, that he wasn’t there for him, that it would somehow make things better. But the sound Michael makes makes him want to find a bottle and didn’t until he forgets it. The pain in his head spikes. Before he can help himself a hiss escapes his lips.
Michael’s reaction is instant. He steps out of the darkness and to Alex’s shock, his eyes go from his face to the one thing Alex has tried to keep hidden. Embarrassment sinks into his stomach as a thousand scenarios fly thought his head for how a Michael could have found out. Why he didn’t say anything. Who else could possibly know. Everyone, he reasons with a dry mouth. Everyone must know because it’s not enough that he gets his leg blown off and sent to torture his father with the reminder of how bad a soldier he is. No, he also has to show everyone that he can’t do the simplest thing like walk properly anymore. Michael’s eyes lock on his and Alex feels laid bare, like Michael knows exactly what he’s thinking.
“Alex—“
“I have orders,” he repeats, “this is the only chance I have of serving my country,” Michael cringes, “I have to be here.”
“Yeah I know,” he says in that small voice again.
“No, you don’t,” Alex says, “I have to be here. I have orders.”
“I said I got it!” Michael says loudly, something desperate and defensive in his voice.
Alex doesn’t feel a breeze but there must be one that makes the lid of the trash can slam. It echoes in his rattled brain, sending the coming headache into overdrive. He wants to push past the pain and keep fighting but even he can tell there’s no victory to be had here. Michael seems to know it too. He scrubs his face wipes his hands before hiding them away.
“Just stay away from me,” Michael says, “it’s a small town but you can manage that.”
“The ‘small town’ isn’t the problem,” Alex says.
“Fine,” Michael shoots back, whatever he was about to say is lost to the tight press of his lips. Alex wants to pry his mouth open and snatch them out. Or do something even stupider but all he can do is nod, “see you around,” he says, “or hopefully not.”
Alex watches him walk away and realizes the sight is very, very painful.
“How did you know about my leg?”
Michael rolls his eyes as he drops his french fry. He looks annoyed and Alex knows he’s been trying to avoid him. Alex has been trying to avoid Michael in equal measure. It’s not hard on busy days. But proximity to Michael is fucking with his head. He’s turning every stupid moment over so many times it’s giving him literal headaches. He’s trained to push past the pain of things like that. But it’s an annoyance he wants to deal with.
“I googled it,” he says.
“No, you knew exactly where my leg was,” Alex says. Michael presses his lips together and looks away. The pain in his head throbs, “how did you know?”
“I could see the place,” he says, “through your pants. Danger of wearing tight jeans.”
Heat floods Alex’s face even though they both know that’s bullshit. He’s not expecting to see Michael’s face go pink as well, even though the real give away is the usual tell Michael has.
“I can’t tell if it’s worse that you’re lying to yourself or to my face,” Alex says.
“Think about it and get back to me,” Michael replies with a lop sided grin that makes Alex’s stomach do a flip flop he most certainly doesn’t need right now, “can I finish my fries, I gotta get back to work.”
“You have a job?”
“Yeah I have a job,” Michael snaps, though this is different than his usual retorts, “is that hard to believe?”
“A legal job?” Alex repeats.
“Oh my god—yes, Alex, I have a legal job,” Michael says, “Can I get this to go?” He asks loudly and then swivels to face him, “let’s keep avoiding each other.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex blurts out, still trying to process that Michael who has all the appearance and drinking habits of a small town criminal has a job, “I didn’t—“
“Yeah you did,” Michael cuts in, “I’m a mechanic,” he says and that small voice creeps in, the one Alex hates even as he is impressed at Michaels ability to let a stranger in, even a little bit, “I got my ASE.”
“I didn’t know,” Alex says.
Michael shrugs.
Alex turns from the sun as the pain hits harder. Michael swears under his breath and shifts forward but Alex holds up a hand to stop him. He shifts back though out of the corner of his eye Alex can see he’s ready to spring forward.
“I got it recently, that’s why it didn’t come up,” he says, his voice low and urgent, “that’s all.”
“Come up?”
“Of course you already looked me up, I just passed the exam. I don’t even have the certification yet. But we both know i passed, yeah? But it just didn’t come up, that’s all. If you look again it’ll be there now.”
Alex focuses on his voice and his own breathing as the sharp pain recedes. It’s manageable, it’s a linger ache which seems to be the best he gets these days. He looks over to Michael to say something but Michael is somehow already moving fast towards the door. He doesn’t look back as he goes, just gets the hell out of there as fast as he can. Like seeing Alex in pain is still something he doesn’t know how to deal with.
It’s confusing as hell but the bright light makes him turn away and when he looks back the truck is speeding off and Michael’s already gone.
When he goes back and looks it up, Michael’s name is in the database.
But the test is dated six months ago.
The headaches aren’t enough to distract him from the fact that he is being lied to.
And not in the usual way.
Alex has been fed lies his entire life. About being wanted and loved, about fitting in, about how if he accepted himself everyone else would too. It’s been a long time since he believed any of them. But the level that it’s been taken to is almost laughable. Almost. It’s weeks before he’s in the same room as Michael again. The funny thing is that some instinctive part of him still tries to trust Michael. Still clings to the brave, brave boy who would throw everything away to protect him.
“Been to a lot of drive ins lately?” Michael asks when they somehow wind up alone.
“Not unless you count my laptop and a humvee,” Alex says.
Michael snorts which is immediately calming and troubling. Michael’s always gotten his sense of humor but he’s always hated the military that hangs over Alex. The military and authority in general. The fastest way to get Michael to do something is to tell him to do the opposite, everyone knows that. Especially Michael himself. But Michael chuckles and Alex feels himself relaxing despite his best efforts to remain angry and on task.
“What about you?” He asks.
“Not really one for the drive in,” Michael says, drumming his thumbs on the bottle.
“Why’s that?” Alex asks.
“Come on, Alex,” Michael drawls.
The heat on his cheeks is back. He can just picture Michael and a long line of girls. Which feels—he doesn’t want to name the feeling that it inspires. He doesn’t have a right to that anymore. Michael can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants in the back of the truck. Instead Alex glances around until Michael gives him a questioning look.
“I’m just trying to decide if it’s safe to sit here,” he says.
Michael laughs in surprise but it’s a real laugh before he clutches his fist to his chest with fake dramatics.
“You know I take good care of my truck.”
Alex shakes his head but doesn’t argue for once because Michael has always taken good care of his truck. It’s why he’s the only person Alex knows who still drives his car from high school and it isn’t a complete death trap. He can also remember a time when he was the only one Michael made out with in his prized truck. Not half of Roswell. The bittersweet feeling lingers but for once the headache isn’t the thing that he’s most focused on. It’s almost nice to be sitting there with him. Even if the others would be back any second.
“So is Roswell as good as you remember?” Michael asks.
“Good? Are we talking about the same Roswell?” Alex asks, “remember when you couldn’t wait to get out of here?”
“Yeah but you did,” Michael points out, but there isn’t a challenge in his words for once, “so how’s it being back?”
Alex shrugs.
He wants to say being back sucks. That he regrets every second he’s spent away dreaming of this place because the reality is worse. He wants to grab Michael’s stupid lapels and demand to know why things are the way they are. Why everyone’s lying to him, why Michael lying to him is so much worse. He wants answers that not even Michael can give him. Like why his leg is gone or his head is hurting or what it’s like to get a full night of sleep. But Michael isn’t the brave boy who protected him and he’s not the type to ask the universe for things it won’t give him.
“I’ve been on worse deployments,” he says.
Michael shuts down.
Alex has computers that would be jealous of the speed which Michael goes silent and closed off. Like magic the rest of them are back and there’s no chance for anything except to sit there in the awkwardness. Alex gets through maybe half the movie before he gives up and slips away as best he can, before anyone can ask if he needs help.
“Nice ride,” Michael says from behind him. Alex glares at his reflection.
“You shouldn’t sneak up behind a solider,” he says.
“Sorry,” Michael says.
Alex glances down and realizes his hand isn’t on his firearm. He doesn’t feel the way that he usually does when people sneak up behind him. It’s another thing that doesn’t make sense in all of this. He turns around but doesn’t move out of the way. He should feel trapped, pinned, afraid. But he doesn’t. The more he thinks on it the more the pain in his head digs in. He’s hand enough of his body betraying him though. He can deal with the pain.
“Why did you follow me?” He asks.
“Came to see if you were okay,” Michael says.
“Why?” Alex asks.
Surprise gives Michael away. Or the lack of it anyway. He’s surprised at how Alex asks so directly but he doesn’t seem like the kind of surprised where there isn’t an answer. Or an answer he doesn’t want to say. He looks like he wants to crawl out of his skin or scream at the top of his lungs. When he reaches for more bullshit, Alex finds his patience snapping at the same time something seems to snap in his head. But he ignores the hot pain, he shoves past it. He’s survived worse than this.
“We used to be—“
“Don’t lie to me,” Alex cuts in, “this isn’t about what we used to be.”
“It always is,” Michael says.
“You’re doing it again,” Alex snaps. Michael blinks and looks confused in a much more honest way, “You keep getting this voice—“ he fights the urge to rub his temples, “this isn’t about what happened ten years ago.”
“You don’t know that,” Michael scoffs and if the wariness in his eyes didn’t give him away, the tongue over his bottom lip and heat in his face do.
“Yes I do,” Alex says, “you’re a miserable liar.”
The comment makes Michael’s jaw drop.
It also makes an explosion go off in his head.
Alex has a high tolerance for pain, it’s a virtue of his upbringing. This isn’t pain. He doesn’t have a word for what this is. It’s like his entire spine is being crushed into itself. His skull is going to break open, it has to. There’s no room for anything else in there. The words keep tumbling over in his head. Miserable Liar. Lying about something that’s just out of reach. He grips Michael’s forearms tighter, he strains to catch at whatever it is that keeps dancing just out of reach. The explosions keep happening, the pain is blinding and so is the heat. It hurts worse than anything but it isn’t the first time.
It isn’t the first time.
He’s been in three explosions, he doesn’t know how he knows that.
He remembers the one that took his leg.
He can’t say how he remembers the one that broke his heart.
And the third—
He reaches for the thought desperately and the answer comes to him a moment before he passes out.
The third took his mind.
“Here,” Michael puts the folded up cloth over his eyes, “shhh don’t try to talk,” he says as Alex parts his lips. Michael picks up his finger and puts it on his wrist, “tap once for yes, twice for no,” he says, “you want water?” Alex taps once.
It’s mildly humiliating to have to be helped to drink but the pain tempers the humiliation. Michael helps him lay down again, he sets the water glass to the side. The sound rattles Alex’s brain and Michael grips his hand back, rubbing his fingers over his knuckles until the waves subside.
“What happened to me?” He asks.
Michael seems to know not to tell him not to talk. Alex is touched and offended by the concern in equal measures. Michael doesn’t let go of his hand. Alex doesn’t have it in him to draw circles with his thumb or anything like that but he squeezes Michaels hand. Michael sighs several times like he’s trying to organize his thoughts. Alex opens his mouth to try and help with some kind of basic question but Michael cuts him off.
“You’ve been here for a year,” he says.
“What?!”
Alex shoves himself up before he remembers what a bad idea that is. The cloth goes flying as Michael lunges forward to steady him with one hand behind his neck and the other at his shoulder. There’s also a bin suddenly in his lap that he knows wasn’t there before but it saves him from puking on both of them. A bin magically appearing isn’t more stunning than finding out he’s missing a fucking year of his life. Or that he’s not in Michael’s trailer but some underground space with a chandelier that reeks of Michaels style and is an impossibly far cry from the trailer.
“Why can’t I remember?” He demands. The pain in his head flares and the dots finally connect, “it’s the headaches,” he says in case Michael hasn’t picked up on that. He lifts his head to see Michael’s shoulders sag, “what happened to me?”
“It’s a drug,” Michael says, “they inject it into your spine,” he taps the back of his neck, close to the base of his skull, “it takes away your memories and if you try to get them back,” he motions towards his sorry state.
“Who?” Alex demands. Michael cringes, “my father?”
“Your dad,” he licks his bottom lip, “this guy you were trying to date. Flint—“ he hesitates, “they did Flint first but he helped.”
Alex stares up at him, trying to reconcile the fact that he’s been experimented on, lost a year of his life and apparently was dating someone who helped do this to him. He’s almost grateful when his stomach turns over, though there’s nothing left in there to come out. If Michael hears the dry sob buried in the heaving he lets Alex have at least one shred of dignity and pretends he doesn’t. Alex fights back for control before putting the bucket aside.
“What am I missing?” He says.
“Alex—“ Michael starts, fear in his eyes. It’s fear now, Alex can place it. But it’s not fear of him. Michael’s scared for him. Which would be great if it wasn’t for the fact that he can already feel the throbbing coming back, “I can’t,” Michael says.
“Yes you can,” Alex replies. Michael hesitates, “I need to know what’s going on,” Alex tells him, “Michael, please, I need to know what they took from me—from us.”
Michael cringes and looks away and Alex realizes he’s stumbled onto something. It makes sense that something would happen if he’s been there a year. He was trying to find a way to get Michael to give him the information he needed to know. Embarrassment curls through him, he deserves worse than hearing he was in two relationships he can’t remember.
“It’s gonna hurt,” Michel says finally.
“Michael,” Alex repeats his name.
“I’m gonna be the one who hurts you. Again,” Alex opens his mouth but Michael shakes his head and seems to come to some kind of decision. He goes for his belt and folds the leather over itself, “it’s been a year,” he says grimly, “you might need this.”
Alex takes the belt and goes to put the leather between his teeth.
“I might hurt you,” he says, “physically.”
Michael shakes his head.
“Trust me, that’s not going to be a problem.”
“I never thought I’d miss the days when you just ran away.”
Alex cracks open an eye to see Michael standing there. He’s wearing a black cowboy hat Alex does and doesn’t remember seeing him in. It’s a nice contrast if Max used to be a cop, Alex could remember nothing and he’d still remember the cops around here wear white stetsons. The light only hurts his eyes because he’s wasted and Michael’s positioned himself in the worst way. Which Alex has a feeling isn’t an accident.
“Are you enjoying being on the other side of this?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “you could be the one who runs away this time,” he offers.
“I’m shit at it,” Michael says.
“Yeah,” Alex agrees.
“You’re shit at it too,” Michael adds, stepping out of the stupid light to join him against the wall.
“I guess we’re both just good at burning our lives down,” Alex muses.
“Guess we are,” Michael agrees, “you gonna stand up?”
Alex considers it but between the liquor and the brawl he was just in, he thinks the ground might be better. Michael nods and suddenly Alex isn’t sitting outside the Pony alone. Michael’s explained everything to him but if Alex had any doubt about how Michael feels it’s pretty much gone when he willingly drops onto the ground next to him so Alex doesn’t have to sit in the ruins alone.
“I was a better fighter when I had two legs,” he says.
“You beat him pretty soundly,” Michael points out, “he just got a few lucky shots in.”
It’s true, he’s sitting on the ground but his brother and his ex are probably gonna be eating liquid meals for a bit. Alex can’t say he regrets it.
“I gave them a chance to explain themselves,” he tells Michael, “I didn’t just attack them.”
“You don’t have to explain,” Michael says quickly.
“I mean I’m not going to—“ he winces at the thought of Michael holding him down with his fucking mind and wonders why it’s important he reassures him, “if you thought I was.”
“Thanks,” Michael says and there’s no humor in his eyes even though Alex is pretty sure he’s just made a hysterical joke, “I’d understand if you did,” Michael adds, “after—“
“That’s not your fault,” he cuts in.
“Come on,” Michael counters, “we both know that’s not true.”
“It wasn’t,” Alex emphasizes, “I don’t blame you for it.”
Michael hangs his head. Alex doesn’t. There’s a lot of messed up shit in the story Michael told him that Alex could and does blame him for. But him losing his memories, the bomb, the things that led to this? Alex can keep the things he does blame him for separate from that.
“You’re not a saint Michael,” he says, “but you’re not a monster,” he looks over at him, “and this,” he motions to his head, “it’s not your fault.”
He knows Michael doesn’t believe him, he also knows it’s impossible to convince him. He can only hope that Michael doesn’t think he has to self-flagellate. Michael sighs and cracks his knuckles. He isn’t hiding his hands anymore. Alex wishes it was that easy to feel like he doesn’t have to hide his leg. Or lack of. It’s strange to have Michael have so much and Alex have nothing. On one hand he’s happy for him. On the other—Alex can put that feeling aside in the place where he puts all his feelings about Michael that he doesn’t know how to deal with.
“Are you done burning down your life?” Michael asks. Alex shrugs, “Alex?”
“That wasn’t my life,” he says simply, “I’m done if they are,” he offers.
Michael sighs loudly.
They both know the answer to that.
“You know this whole time I thought all of this was my fault,” Michael says.
“Are you disappointed?” Alex asks and the sarcasm brings a genuine smile to Michael’s face. His nose wrinkles.
“You know I kinda am,” he says.
Alex can’t remember the last time he laughed until his ribs hurt. It isn’t even that funny. Maybe it’s just that laying in the back of an alleyway with Michael laughing in the wreckage of both their lives, there’s something real. Even if that something is just a fucked up connection he can’t fully explain. It’s funny and it’s tragic and the wetness on their cheeks could be from either of those things. Or just from the exhaustion and pain that’s ruled their lives for God knows how long. A year? Ten? Always?
Michael looks over at him and it’s the easiest thing to push himself closer.
It’s Michael who pulls back.
“We can’t,” he says. Alex stares at him but lets him keep going, “I can tell you the fucked up shit I did, but you don’t remember,” he says, “that’s not fair to you,” Michael adds, squeezing his eyes shut, “shit none of this is fair to you.”
“I might never remember,” Alex points out.
“Yeah,” Michael says.
“Did you stop caring?” He asks. Michael shakes his head, “could you?”
Michael doesn’t hesitate when he shakes his head. Alex knows he feels more for Michael than he has for anyone. But those feelings haven’t stopped either of them from doing fucked up things to each other. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to do anything more with them. It’d be a lot easier if he thought that was what was happening.
“I haven’t stopped caring for you,” he says.
“You did,” Michael tells him, “not that I blame you. With all the fucked up shit I did.”
Alex nods.
“You did a lot of messed up things,” he says, “but I don’t think I stopped caring for you,” he looks at Michael, “deep down I don’t think you believe that either. I think you want to, but I don’t think you do.”
Michael looks away. Alex hates being the manifestation of Michael’s need to punish himself more than he hates any role he’s been shoehorned into. Including being Jesse Manes’ son. He doesn’t have the words for that. He’s not sure the words for it have been invented. For someone you would rather sit on the ground with than be warm and dry. Or anywhere else. Alex has wanted to fit in places before but he’s never found that sense of acceptance he remembers with Michael.
“Do you think we can get past it?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” Michael says, “do you want me to go?”
“No.”
“You sure this is okay?”
Alex looks up at the sight of Michael standing in his doorway. He nods without any hesitation. Michael is very much of the ‘alternative living’ dwelling but living above a bunker with alien stuff has draw backs. Like some long lost alien relative coming and blowing it up. Alex isn’t sure how he beat Isobel to the offering of Michael coming back with him, but he was pulling into his driveway with Michael’s truck following. Alex is at least grateful the truck survived with only minor dings.
“I’m sorry about your bunker,” he says. Michael nods, “is there anything I can do?”
“Can we look for the piece of my ship?”
Alex nods, grateful for anything to do. He can’t remember and Michael only has a few clues like the bag he shoved it in. So they turn the house upside down, pausing only for snacks and beers. It beats dreaming about Michael losing another home and him being powerless to stop it. Of course the cabin with all its secrets doesn’t make this easy. Why would anything be easy when it comes to them.
“This is like being drunk and hiding something from yourself,” Michael says, half under the bed, “you know?”
“No,” Alex says honestly, “the stuff I hid I wanted to keep hidden. From my dad, or enemy insurgents.”
“There’s a difference?” Michael asks. Alex snorts and lays back, looking up at the wood beams, “you’re too good at this.”
“Sorry,” he says, “I do it professionally, if that’s any consolation.”
“Not really.”
Alex tilts his head. He spent years picking out patterns and discrepancies. Code and buildings aren’t terribly different when it comes to the patterns. And he’s always been good when it comes to discrepancies. He rolls over to the painting against the wall.
“Can you get the painting off?”
Michael comes out from under the bed and blows his curls out of his eyes in a gesture that shouldn’t be so adorable. Or so hot. He looks at the painting and frowns. Then it swings out, hinged to the wall. The keypad there is like a cruel joke. He likes to think he knows himself but the missing year taunts him. He looks at the pad and then at Michael. Michael stares at the pad for a moment and then punches in a code.
“Glad I told you,” Alex says, reaching in and pulling out the bag.
“You didn’t,” Michael says. Alex looks over at him, surprised.
“What was the code?”
“Date of our high school reunion,” Michael says.
Alex isn’t sentimental about a lot of things. Not in any version of himself. Tangible things can get broken too easily to be important. He passes Michael the bag and looks inside the safe. Everything in it is practical. Which he should have expected but finds himself disappointed all the same. He wishes his memories were in there. But the ship piece will have to do. He looks as Michael pulls out the piece of glass, the colors going blue around his handprints.
“It’s beautiful,” Alex says.
Michael nods, turning the piece over in his hands. The light trails across where he touches, changing the colors reflected across his skin. He’s beautiful. Alex is grateful that he was able to hide it, that he was able to give it back. No matter what happened in between that and him losing his memories. It’s a small thing but Alex has long since learned to be grateful for small victories. Especially when the big ones are so far between.
“I’m glad we found it,” he says, breaking through whatever spell has fallen over Michael and the last remaining piece of his home. It’s jarring and he wants to snatch the words back, even as something in the marrow of his bones tells him to stop him. That the longer he stares the more likely it is he’ll go. “What’s the date?”
“The date?” Alex nods and Michael seems to jerk back to life, “oh yeah,” he rattles it off and Alex tucks the numbers away, memorizing them easily.
“I have to figure out a way to remember these,” he says, “in case my dad tries something like this again.”
“You can just ask me,” Michael offers.
Alex’s mouth goes dry. He wants to say that he believes their friendship would be strong enough that if it happened that would be true. But the things they don’t say or can’t say have started piling up again already. There’s an ache that hangs over their relationship, their friendship, and Alex doesn’t know how to make it go away.
“Yeah but just in case,” he says.
“In case of what?” Michael presses. Alex blows out a breath.
“I don’t know, in case you decide to take a trip somewhere,” he says, “or you meet someone and move away. Or you’re busy,” he shrugs, “you know, just in case.”
He closes the safe and gives Michael a good extra few seconds to collect himself. He hears Michael put the glass piece back in the bag and he still takes his time before turning to face him.
He isn’t expecting Michael to be so close.
“I meet someone new?” Michael repeats.
“It’s going to happen eventually,” Alex points out then shakes his head, “no it already did. We both did.”
“And look where that got us.”
It’s a challenge and Alex desperately wants to fight back. But Michael has been clear—as clear as Michael ever is about his feelings when he isn’t broadcasting them. He has a year of fucked up memories of them that Alex has made his peace with he’ll never get back. It’s like his leg. They’re gone. There’s a time to mourn and then it’s time to move on. He can’t blame Michael for not wanting to be with someone who can’t remember moments like the ones he has. He can only blame him for not wanting to move past it with him.
“You said in the alley—“
“I know what I said,” Michael snaps, “but I didn’t know.”
“Know what? What changed?”
“I didn’t know you had the reunion as the code to your safe.”
Alex rolls his eyes.
“You’re the only one whose surprised at that,” he shoots back, “I told you—“
He gets why Michael put the glass piece down when his back hits the wall and Michael’s lips find his. The world slips away as he melts into the feeling. If he remembers nothing ever again he’ll remember the taste of Michael’s mouth. How he presses up the extra quarter inch like it makes a fucking difference. His hands are on Alex’s cheeks and then at his waist like he can’t figure out where to touch first. The frantic energy crackles between them and Alex has no idea how he didn’t know Michael was an alien. Or maybe Michael being special just eclipsed all of it.
Any awkwardness Alex envisioned for his first time withofut both his legs is gone. Michael doesn’t cringe at his prosthetic and when the bed moves in a way that’s got nothing to do with what they’re doing, Michael doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed. They lay on his bed after gasping unsteady breaths.
“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t make up the couch,” Michael says.
Alex might feel love drunk but that doesn’t stop him from smacking Michael with the pillow.
“I should have known when you said there was a metal detector,” Alex realizes aloud.
Michael cringes and ducks his head, focusing back on the car he’s working on. Because he is actually a very good mechanic and all it takes is a simple sign saying his customers can find him in Alex’s driveway for the operation to move there temporarily. From his spot on the porch Alex can work without the sun in his eyes while Michael buries himself in cars.
“I was just trying to keep you from getting those headaches,” he says.
“The UFO Emporium still runs on floppy disks,” Alex says, still flabbergasted he fell for it, “I can’t believe I fell for that.”
“To be fair,” Michael begins, stepping out from under the hood, “I was banking on you still thinking your leg was new and being too embarrassed to risk it.”
“No I know,” Alex says, “but I worked there, I should have known there was no way they would install a metal detector.”
“They might one day,” Michael offers.
“If they do we should move,” Alex says turning back to his screen, “it’ll be a sign of the apocalypse.”
“Or an alien invasion.”
Alex rolls his eyes and looks over at Michael who flashes a grin that makes his cheeks burn. The alien thing is, in some ways, easier to get used to than openly dating. Which seems backwards in his head but it’s not in this situation.
“Speaking of signs of the apocalypse, invasions and unbelievable things,” Michael says, “you know we’ve been dating a month.”
“I know,” Alex says, “that reminds me, I changed the safe combination to today,” he glances up at Michael, “in case I forget.”
Despite them dating for a month and all the other stuff, the gesture does exactly what Alex was hoping it would. Michael goes pink around the ears and blows his curls off his forehead before turning back to the car.
“I’ll remember,” he says.
“I know.”