neverlooksaway | Continuation from TFLN

Michael could see the fear, and tightened his arm around Alex, feeling bad that he'd said anything that had upset him. He wanted Alex safe, happy, away from his dad. But not by heading into war. He also didn't want to push Alex to something he wasn't ready for.

"I didn't think he'd go that far. Now I know that he will, he won't catch me off-guard again. I can take care of myself." Using his powers would mean having to cover it up afterward, but he wasn't going to let Jesse Manes hurt him or Alex again. "But...ending up going off to war is potentially a lot harder than figuring out another way to pay for college."

Michael wished he could give Alex the scholarship he had to let go. It would still mean him leaving, but he'd be leaving for somewhere safe enough, and Michael could drive up to see him sometimes, at least. But it didn't work that way. "I don't want you to leave..."

It took a lot to admit that, but if Alex was being vulnerable, he could be, too, right?

“We could leave,” Alex suggested, hope in his voice even though he knew it wasn’t a valid option. That would only piss his dad off even more. He knew, given everything, that Michael thought he knew what his dad was capable of, but he was a lot more insidious than hitting people with hammers. He always managed to find the right leverage to get his way.

“Just hit the road and go anywhere, even if it’s just for the summer.”

He liked the idea of spending months with Michael, getting to know him, really know him outside of this electric chemistry they seemed to have. He only really knew what he’d heard about him at school and that he was friends - no, family - with Max and Isobel.

Michael's eyes lit up at the idea, even though he immediately thought of Isobel. He'd turned down the scholarship, and Max had given up his road trip, so they could watch her. Michael couldn't just turn around and run away, now. Right? But already Max was pulling away, hadn't even bothered to ask about Michael's hand. And Isobel kept looking at him with worry, which was fair, given she thought he'd killed three people, but he hadn't, and, in that moment, he hadn't really thought through the consequences of saying it was him.

But that was different. That was before Alex said his dad wanted to send him off to war. If running away with Michael would keep him from doing that, surely that would be worth it, right?

And if it was just for the summer...Max could handle Isobel, couldn't he? If Michael said he'd be back, she wouldn't freak out about him leaving her. And after everything life had thrown at him versus them, surely he deserved the chance to be a little selfish, for once, didn't he?

He wasn't sure he bought his own rationalization, but he found himself smiling anyway, and the only thing that seemed at all reasonable to say was, "Okay."

Alex watched the expressions flick through Michael's face. Joy and then doubt. That he'd been expecting and maybe it was for the best. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell Michael that this was a bad idea, especially when it'd been Alex to bring up the subject in the first place.

But then Alex's expression cleared and he smiled again. And agreed. Alex's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected Michael to agree. He figured Michael would want to spend the last summer before they all went off to college with Max and Isobel.

"Guerin, I was just..." But he couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd been just kidding because he didn't want it to be some joke. He honestly did want to leave with Michael and never look back.

"I don't want him to hurt you again," he said instead. "And he will when he finds out you're the reason I left."

Michael's smile faltered at the "I was just...", because he knew what came after that. But, then, it didn't, and he felt hope flare a little again. But Alex raised a valid issue--Michael knew what that anger looked like, and it didn't just ease or go away with hoping.

But, maybe...

He bit his lip, looking down, thinking. He didn't want to mess this up, or upset Alex, and it was his dad. He supposed that could be hard, though he didn't know much about what it was like to have an actual father who was like that. Foster fathers, sure, but...he didn't feel any bond to those men who'd hurt him. It was probably different when it was your real dad. But, still.

He'd told Max they should do it about Isobel and Rosa, but let Max shoot it down. But, this, this was his decision. He chewed on his lip another long moment. "What if...what if I--we--went to the Sheriff? Told him what your dad did? From what I've heard, he's a decent man. I mean, maybe nothing ends up coming of it, but, then, your dad would know that I was willing to report him, and that there was a formal report, so if something happened to either of us, he'd be at the top of the suspect list..."

Alex's stomach clenched at the thought of telling someone about what his father did. Most of the time, there was no proof. Yeah, he'd actually been the one to suggest bringing up charges against his father on the way here, but a part of him knew that Michael wouldn't go for it, not when he hadn't gone to Sheriff Valenti already. So it'd been easy to check and make sure that Michael's earlier decision remained true.

But now Michael was the one bringing it up. Michael was the one willing to step forward and make sure that the Sheriff knew what was going on. And they even had proof. Or at least proof that Michael had been injured. Who knew if that could be used as proof that his father had been the one to cause the injury.

He pressed his hands against Michael's skin so he wouldn't know how badly they were shaking.

"He'll want to know why we took so long to come forward," he pointed out. Better the logical reasons this was a problem instead of the real ones. "And why you didn't go to the hospital." Which was a good question. He had no idea why Michael hadn't had anyone look at his hand except maybe for lack of medical insurance.

Not going to the sheriff had been his preferred way of dealing with this when it was just about him. But it wasn't just about him anymore. If Alex was worried about his dad hurting Michael again, and that was making him think that he had to do something he didn't want to do to protect Michael. The very thought of that made him feel sick.

He slid his good hand up to curl around where Alex's pressed against his.

"We were scared." Michael countered logic with logic. "And I don't have insurance."

"But I'll tell him I'm more scared of what happens if I don't. I mean, I don't have anyone to protect me. He arrested my last foster parents when what they did to some of the younger kids came out, so. He knows something about my situation."

Of course, the sheriff might insist on him going to the doctor or something, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

"Yeah, but..." He grimaced and shook his head. He wished it could be that easy. And Kyle's dad was a good guy. He always made it easier to bear when he could. But that was the whole point.

"I think he knows. Some of it. Not everything. Not the worst of it. And not this. But he and Dad are friends. Were friends. They were together often enough that before high school and hormones, Kyle was almost more a brother to me than my actual brothers."

His brothers always seemed to follow the party line. Anything for dad and country in that order. And Alex didn't fit the mold. Just like Kyle didn't want to be a sheriff like his dad.

But then they grew up and like so many high school movies showed, Kyle became one of the mean girls and he'd dropped Alex like a hot potato.

"Hard to believe, I know, but I don't know. Maybe it's more that my dad has something on the Sheriff. That I'd believe."

Michael made a softly frustrated sound and closed his eyes, pulling the feeling in rather than letting it explode out. He hadn't been able to do that, just four years ago, even; thus the faint cross-shaped burn on his arm that showed up more when he got too tan. He'd been working on it, making his control sharper and more refined, but it still was always a tenuous thing.

But much as he wanted to tell Alex his secret, he didn't want him finding out because Michael did something that scared him.

Opening his eyes, he focused on Alex again. "Maybe he does. But this is something he can't just ignore." Michael held the crudely bandaged hand up with a twist of his lips. "And neither of us has a reputation for making shit up. I can go by myself, if you want, or we can just...not, and go. But you can't just do what he wants you to and go off and enlist. Then, he wins. And he shouldn't get to win."

Alex couldn't look at Michael's hand, he just couldn't. It was his fault. And even if there was some argument that Michael could come up with - and he probably could - for how it wasn't Alex's fault, what he couldn't argue was that Alex had just stood there watching in horror. He hadn't tried to grab his father's hand, hadn't even moved a step in his direction.

He was silent for a little while, just shaking his head and burying his face in the crook of Michael's neck.

Eventually, he whispered soft words against Michael's skin. If he pretended hard enough, he could pretend that he wasn't saying anything.

"I'm scared of all it. Him finding out. Him hurting you again. Just...him."

Alex curling into him like that, not able to look just about broke Michael's heart, and he wrapped his arms tight around him, holding him close. He knew that feeling, but he'd never gotten to indulge it--there'd been no one there to hold him, and he couldn't let Max know how bad it was.

But he could be that person for Alex. So he just held him while he worked up to saying what he didn't want to say.

Michael wasn't sure if he should ignore it or respond, but it twisted up his heart, tearing him in two different directions. He'd promised Isobel he'd stay, but that was before, and, ultimately...if he checked in or whatever, she couldn't miss him, couldn't need him as much as maybe Alex did, could she?

He turned his head and brushed a kiss over Alex's hair. "Then let's go. Just...go and not come back. I got some money saved up from working at the junkyard. We can just...go somewhere he won't find us. San Francisco or New York or something. You can p-play music..." Yeah, he stumbled over that, but kept going. "And I'll fix cars, and we can just...be us."

"Use it," Alex insisted, lifting his head up so he could look Michael in the eye. "Use it to go to a doctor. At least get them to see you and see if they can do anything for your hand. I know how much music means to you and I don't want to be the one responsible for taking it away."

And sure, maybe he wasn't directly responsible, but it'd been his father, his inaction when his father pushed him against the wall, that led to Michael's hand.

"If I could just magic away what he did to you..." But life didn't work like that. And this was another harsh lesson in his life that the bad guys sometimes won.

"And if you don't give yourself a chance to see, then you'll always wonder. Maybe all you really need is a proper cast." And he was fooling himself, he knew. A hammer crushing the delicate bones of a hand required a lot more than just a cast. But. They had to try.

”If I could just magic away what he did to you...” The words made something inside Michael freeze up and tumble apart at the same time. Because Max could just fix it...but not if Michael stayed. He’d have to go, if his hand worked, at least for a while.

But if Alex went with him...if it was to keep them all safe in a sense...would that be enough for Isobel to be okay? And could he trust Alex with something that big?

The thought was terrifying, making him feel sick to his stomach about how it could go wrong, and he felt the trembling start, so he pressed closer to Alex. Over and over and over in his head it tumbled, and he tried to bite back the words, but Alex blaming himself...he couldn’t take that.

“It’s not your fault. I could’ve stopped him...” He broke off abruptly, because fuck. Not what he meant to say. “I can’t go to the hospital, Alex. I can’t. But...what if it could be...magic-ed away? Would you go with me? ‘Cause I’d have to go, then...”

He kept his face turned into Alex’s hair, knew he sounded crazy, the words broken and disjointed, but his thoughts were rioting, the chaos running rampant, and he didn’t have anything to quiet it.

"If wishes were horses, Guerin," Alex said with a sad shake of his head. "Yes. If we could leave before my father got his hands on us, if we could fix you, then yes. I'd go anywhere you wanted."

And Alex let himself think about it for a minute. The two of them would have some indie band somewhere and Michael could fix cars or...or maybe he could fix computers. Michael could work on the hardware and Alex would work on the software. And they could find somewhere to go to community college and start their life their own way and on their own terms.

It was a thought that was so wonderful and so unreal that it actually hurt.

"But this isn't Wonderland. Wishing doesn't make it so, no matter how much I might want it to." Alex grabbed for that arm and kissed the inside of Michael's wrist. "I've seen the way you look when you play. I'm not going to be the one to stand in the way of you getting that back, even if it's only a chance."

Michael finally met Alex’s gaze, though his was the one a little terrified now, and he was possibly going to bloody his lip, he was biting it so hard. His eyes filled with tears at Alex’s kiss, to his wrist, even as he shook his head a little.

“The hospital can’t fix it, Alex. The bones...splints and casts and pins...even if I could go, they’d never fix it, really. But...”

He didn’t know how to say it, how to get the words out in any fashion that didn’t end up wrecking all their lives.

“If I told you something....something a lot of people like your dad could use to hurt me...you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you?” It was a stupid question. Anyone would promise not to, without realizing the magnitude of the ask. “Even if it scared you? I mean, it’s not bad, and I would never hurt you, but...it might freak a lot of people out...and get innocent people hurt if you ever said anything...”

"I'd never tell him anything," Alex said, the scorn thick in his voice. If he'd had any hope for fatherly love left in him after years of never measuring up to his brothers, what had happened with Michael had pushed him well into the 'hating his father' side of the line.

"You couldn't scare me," he assured Michael. Which wasn't, strictly speaking, true. What he felt for Michael terrified him. What his father could do to Michael terrified him. But Michael himself? No, Michael couldn't scare him.

He took a breath. He could say he wouldn't tell anyone and lie to Michael. He could say he wasn't sure whether he'd tell anyone and leave Michael terrified that he'd spill whatever this terrible secret was.

Neither of those options was acceptable and so that left the third. He could trust Michael.

"I won't say anything," he said quietly, looking deeply into Michael's eyes so he'd know Alex meant it.

Believing him was probably a stupid thing to do. Alex had no real idea what he was promising. But Michael did.

He had no idea how to say it, though. Just blurting it out seemed like a bad idea, at least if he wanted Alex to believe him.

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before nodding. “Okay. But this is something I gotta show you.”

He leaned in and kissed Alex, then clambered out of the truck bed and moved back to the driver’s side. “It’s not too far, but we should drive.”

Somehow the idea of the pods seemed less scary to start with than his telekinesis.

Edited 2019-05-21 07:15 (UTC)

Okay, that was definitely a little weird. Alex had said there was a secret to tell and now it was a secret to show. But Alex gamely hopped off of the truck and got back into the passenger's seat.

"All right, but if you tell me you're actually a little green man," he joked, "I'm going to have to call bullshit. I've seen all your bits up close, now." Aliens were pretty much the running joke in Roswell. Either you were a local and didn't believe in them, or you were a tourist and the locals took you for all you were worth. There wasn't a lot of in between.

But now he was getting nervous. He'd said yes and he meant it, but clearly whatever it is was really important to Michael. Like, really. The only thing he'd seen Michael this intent about was the time he got to see Michael play.

Michael coughed on a touch of a laugh at that and hoped it didn’t sound hysterical. “I guess you have,” he said, cheeks turning red. He could feel the tension in the truck, or at least his own, but didn’t know how to change that. He was second guessing himself around in circles, doubting his choice, but wanting to, still.

That made him pretty quiet on the short drive deeper in the desert. When he got close enough, he parked and hopped out.

“I’m gonna need your help...” he said, tilting his head toward the boarded up entrance. “It pulls off easy enough, but it does take two hands.”

The car was eerily quiet. Michael was...Alex wasn't sure what Michael was thinking. Alex was trying to figure out what, out in the middle of the desert, could heal Michael's hand. And then they were parking and Michael was asking for his help to get into some kind of cave.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were bringing me to your love shack." Or serial killer den. And he really didn't know Michael better, but he felt as if he did. And sure, they'd known each other by reputation for years, but they'd never been friends. Or anything else.

He got out and followed Michael over. Was he really going to do this? "On three?"

The comment about his love shack got a genuine laugh out of Michael that broke his tension a little. “I can’t say that’s ever occurred to me, but I’m open to multipurposing it.”

It wasn’t like it was actually being used for anything more than hiding away pieces of themselves that they didn’t understand.

He nodded, though, reaching for the wood. “On three...” He counted it down, and, really, the wood came away easily; it wasn’t meant as a serious deterrent so much as a “nothing interesting here.” Granted, he could’ve moved it with his power, but...trying to seem normal here.

Aware it would be kinda creepy to follow Alex in, he led the way. Sunlight lit the way for the first bit, but as it faded, they weren’t left in the dark - long before you could see them, the pods’ glow lit the tunnel.

Michael started trying to calm his nerves, glancing back at Alex. “I’m breaking every rule Max has ever laid down, but...I don’t want to keep secrets. I want you to know the real me.”

"Still not a little green man," Alex returned lightly even as he stared at the pods. Three of them. And Michael had said that Max and Isobel were family. He took a step closer and then another and eventually got close enough that all he had to do was reach out and press his hand to the pod. It was firm to the touch although it seemed to shimmer a little.

He turned back to Michael. "So...these can heal your hand?" Better the immediate question than the ramifications. He needed a minute, more than a minute, to come to terms with this. Because he couldn't come up with a better explanation than the obvious one, given what town they were all in.

Except that it was better to know than to just guess. For all he knew, this was some...secret government project that kids had access to. Right.

"What are they?"

“No.” Michael shook his head. “Max can heal my hand. This is just...why. Or how. Or whatever.”

He was watching Alex carefully, weighing his reaction. He hadn’t run screaming, which Michael figured was a good thing. He figured Alex would need a few, but what did he know? They’d never told anyone before. But his nerves weren’t any better. Wouldn’t be until Alex figured out how he felt, because, until then, he could still run screaming. Or just decide it was okay, in general, but that he didn’t want to be with Michael because of it.

But better to know that now than after they ran away together and Michael slipped up and used his power where Alex could see. Living foreverwithout using it would be impossible.

So, he cleared his throat and answered Alex’s question. “Near as we can tell, they’re some kind of stasis pods. They must be what kept us safe in the crash, though we got no idea who brought them here, who hid us and kept us safe for fifty years. We just know we woke up in them in 1997, and managed to get out, then went looking for...anyone until a trucker found us and took us to the sheriff or whoever..”

Honestly, that was all kind of a blur.

Alex's head was spinning. Fine, they hadn't said the word, but Michael was an alien. From outer space. And somehow the only thing he could come up with was that he'd be able to say that he officially had a thing for older men. Much older. It was a stupid joke and he didn't actually say it, but he didn't think he'd be able to come to terms with this here in this cave.

"Then you go to Max and you tell him to fix your hand," he said decidedly.

He took his hand off the pod and walked over to Michael, cupping his neck. The breath he took was shaky. "I'm not going to say that I'm okay... No, that sounds bad and I don't mean it that way. You, Max, Isobel. I'm okay with you. More than okay. I've known you all for years. Max, the goofy book nerd who's in love with Liz. Isobel, the queen of the school and one of the few popular girls who actually cares."

He shifted his hand and ran his thumb over Michael's jaw. "And then there's you, the boy I never saw coming." He smiled and then nodded back to the pods. "That? That's going to take some time."

And he honestly couldn't say that he wouldn't change his mind when the reality finally hit. But here Michael was, offering him a secret the likes of which Alex had never known, offering to fix the mistake that Alex had made by not standing up to his father, and offering him a way out. That outweighed any panic that might be peeking at him from the edges of his consciousness.

He stepped closer and pressed his other hand to Michael's chest to stop his hand from shaking.

That was better than Michael had expected, if not quite as good as he’d hoped, but, either way, totally fair. He could feel Alex trembling, and covered his hand with his own.

Hoping to reassure Alex, he summoned up a crooked smile, and leaned into his touch. “If it helps, that, this, us, is who you’ve known all these years. Like you said, you’ve seen all of me, up close. I’m not, like, shape-shifted or anything. At least in most ways, we’re just like you.” Minus the powers and acetone, but Alex hadn’t asked about how Max healed, so Michael held back the powers discussion.

“And this is the only home we’ve ever known, so we’re not trying to take it over or whatever. We’re really just three abandoned or lost kids. Maybe our parents came from somewhere else, but we don’t have any memories of anything before this cave. Far as we know, this is where we were born.”

There were differences, sure, things Michael had always held on to more than Max and Isobel, because in a life of constant rejection, holding on to something else, being something else, made it easier. If he didn’t belong here, then it didn’t matter if no one wanted him here. But with Alex, Michael had wondered if he maybe could finally belong.

Continuation from TFLN - (for thenewnormal)

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