Chapter Text
How was the party? the text from Liz on the group chat reads.
Alex groans. He knows she's teasing him, that she's just worried for him, but right now it doesn't help his abysmal mood.
Awesome, he answers. Please get me out of here.
I wish I could, Liz's reply comes immediately.
I know. Kyle is picking me up in an hour. Pray that I survive until then.
Liz will pray, Maria writes. I'll distract you.
I'm hiding in my old room, Alex types. Told them I needed to do some PT.
Good move. Does your room still look the same?
Alex looks around him. It's the room he shared with Flint his whole childhood, the smallest bedroom in the house. It looks smaller than he remembers, even though there's now only one bed, and it's been turned into a guest room. He slept here last night. The worst part about coming back to Roswell for his first Christmas with his father in nine years is that since he's not cleared to drive yet, he couldn't make the trip over a single day, and he had to stay in the house overnight.
Well, not the worst part, just the most annoying. He still doesn't know if the worst part is the incessant quips and comments from his father about his tastes , or spending hours in silence, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes, straight-backed and, in Alex's case, in near agony from not being able to change position or remove his prosthesis.
Flint is the only one of his brother who is on leave this year, before he reports to his new unit in Munich in January, and he and Dad clearly have something going on that Alex doesn't know about. Presents aren't part of the Manes family traditions, so it's only been stilted meals around the too-large table between the three of them, and an awkward and just as stilted visit to Dad's only living aunt, who lives at the other end of town and seems to think Alex is still four years old.
Alex snaps a selfie showing the nondescript guest room around him. Nope. Nothing of mine left. Took it all down before I left and gave it away.
He's pretty sure his father would have put it all in the trash anyway. At least this way it went to other teenagers in need of rebellion.
It looks sad, Maria writes back.
It is sad. Even my rehab room has more personality. Alex stripped the bed and made it again with military corners, out of habit, though he toyed with leaving the bedding in a pile on the floor. He could have easily justified it, too, since it's surprisingly hard to make a bed standing on one leg. But this particular spark of defiance is long gone from him. He stands up to his father in other ways, now. By outranking him at barely twenty-seven, for example. His father still hasn't digested his decision to become an officer.
His phone buzzes, and Alex opens the picture Maria just sent. It's her and Mimi in front of a creatively decorated Christmas tree, with, Alex knows, exclusively of hand-made ornaments of the DeLuca family. Wish I was here, he types.
Come to the Crashdown with Kyle before you drive back, Liz answers. Dad's making churro pancakes.
We'll be there too, Maria adds.
Okay, Alex writes. I can't wait.
Right on schedule−thank God−he hears Kyle's car pull up front. With a sigh of relief, he stands up and grabs his backpack and his crutches to make his way to the living room. Dad and Flint are still sitting at the table, pouring over some documents that look official. Alex doesn't try to see what they're working on.
“Kyle's here to pick me up,” he says.
His father comes to stand in front of him, as usual just close enough to be uncomfortable. Alex has to straighten his spine and look up to him, and he hates it. “I trust you will keep me informed of your recovery,” Dad says.
“Yeah,” Alex nods. Like his father doesn't have his own ways to know about it. All he's really interested in seems to be whether Alex will get discharged or not, anyway.
“Drive safe,” Dad says. For an instant, there's something in his eyes, something that Alex saw only once, the first time Dad came to see him in the hospital. Fear, maybe, just a hint of it. Perhaps if Alex had died, his father would have been affected, after all. Perhaps he's not quite as detached as he pretends to be.
Alex doesn't let it get to him. He can't, if he's going to make it out of this. He nods at Flint, who nods back, just as Kyle rings the bell.
“Goodbye, Dad,” he says, opening the door. He steps out as smoothly as his crutches will allow, and doesn't look back.
“Hey,” Kyle greets him. “Merry Christmas. You ready?”
“You have no idea,” Alex groans.
“Get in, then,” Kyle grins.
The rekindling of their lost friendship, nearly a decade after they last saw each other, came as a real surprise to Alex. His childhood friend turned bully showed up in his hospital room less than a week after he was shipped back, inquiring about finding Alex's name in his father's will, when Alex didn't even know Jim Valenti had died. It turned out that the hospital Kyle is doing a rotation in is just a couple blocks away from Alex's rehab center, and they've had nearly t hree months of regular visits to talk. Alex can't forget what Kyle put him through in high school, but Kyle apologized profusely, and it's been a long time. He's ready to forgive.
“Can we stop at the Crashdown?” Alex asks as he folds into the passenger seat. “There's churro pancakes with our names on it.”
Kyle hesitates for a moment. He was probably hoping to drive back before it gets to dark, but he must see how much Alex needs it, because he just nods. Alex smiles at him in thanks. He's not ready to head back to his lonely, sterile room at the rehab center just yet.
Maria, Mimi and Liz are already seated at a table inside the café when they arrive.
“Merry Christmas!” Liz shouts cheerfully as Kyle holds the door open for Alex. They all stand up, but they wait until Alex is seated and has put his crutches away to hug him.
Arturo comes over minutes later with two plates piled up with pancakes. Alex takes a breath and lets the tension seep out of his body, for the first time in days. He's far more at home here, surrounded by his friends, than he ever was in his father's house.
Maria and Liz have visited him in rehab as much as they have been able to, mostly on weekends, but Alex takes the time to update Arturo and Mimi on his progress. Mimi is having a good day, she's mostly lucid and laughing with all of them, as sharp as ever when it comes to teasing them. Alex is glad that Maria can get a peaceful Christmas.
“Is any of you taking an actual vacation?” he asks when they talk about their plans for New Year's day.
“Not me,” Kyle answers. “I'll be home with Mom for New Year's Eve, but this time of the year, doctors are in high demand. Better me than those who have children.”
“My work can spare me for a week,” Liz says. “We're actually going skiing,” she waves to encompass Maria.
“Really?” Alex raises his eyebrows.
“I haven't taken an actual vacation in years, and Mom's sister invited her to her house for a week, so I'm closing the bar,” Maria says.
“It will do you good,” Alex approves. “Are Max and Isobel going too?”
It's still beyond him how his two high school best friends managed to fall in love with a pair of twins while he had his back turned. Max and Liz were friends in school, but Maria and Isobel Evans is a match that baffles Alex. They've been together for two years and they seem to be thriving, though, so he's happy for them.
“Isobel is the one who booked the cabin, actually. We'll be there for a week, and their brother is coming too.”
“Guerin, right?” Alex scourges his memory. “I think I met him once.”
“Michael, yes,” Liz confirms.
“Sounds nice,” Alex smiles, trying not to let the pang of jealousy show. The next couple of weeks are going to be very quiet at the rehab center, as most of his therapists are taking time off and a lot of the patients have gone home. He's probably going to spend his time zoning out on his bed, or aimlessly working out to keep the nightmares at bay.
“I wish you could come,” Maria takes his hand gently, as if reading his thoughts. He wouldn't put it past her.
“It's not like I can ski,” he nods to his crutches.
Liz lights up suddenly. “Wait,” she says. “If you could come, would you want to?”
“Why?” Alex frowns.
“Well, Isobel got a three bedroom cabin, and they all have two beds, so we actually have an extra bed. I know it won't be as fun without skiing, but it would do you good to do something else than rehab, right?”
Alex hesitates, taken by surprise. “I don't know,” he starts. “It's−”
“You'd have to bunk with Michael, of course, or would that be a problem?” Liz continues, already getting excited. “Oh, Alex, it would be great!”
Alex opens his mouth, and realizes he can't say no to that look on Liz's face. He nods, a little reluctantly. It sounds a little daunting. He has yet to really travel since his injury, and there will be logistics to figure out. But maybe Liz is right. Maybe an change of scenery, and being surrounded by his friends for a few days will do him good.
The memory of Isobel and Max's hot, queer brother has absolutely no bearing on his acceptance.
Alex sits up from his position on the floor when his phone buzzes. He opens Liz's text with a swipe.
Wish you could see this. I hope you're not too bored. See you at lunch xx.
Alex rolls his eyes and taps the photo she sent him. It shows Max and Maria, in full skiing gear, making faces at each other behind their googles, with the mountain as the background.
Have fun, he writes back. Don't worry about me.
Putting the phone back down, hears a car pull up to the cabin. He checks that his prosthetic hasn't twisted during his PT exercises and pulls himself to his feet, helping himself with the grab bar. He's thankful that Isobel at least thought to rent an accessible cabin, where he can actually shower on his own and move around, because it looks like he's going to be stuck inside for the rest of the holidays.
Grabbing his crutches, he makes his way to the front of the cabin. They've been here for a two days already, and the path to the cabin hasn't been properly cleared out after the most recent snow, so on top of not being able to ski with the others, Alex can't even step out without a serious risk of slipping.
He's bored, that's what he is. He loves his friends, but spending his days inside on his own isn't his idea of a good vacation. In t wo months of impatient rehab and one month in the hospital, he's long run out of TV shows to watch and he's tired of reading.
He can't remember why he let Liz and Maria rope him into this. Oh, right, because he was grouchy and isolating himself, according to them. Well, this vacation is a huge success, isn't it?
Isobel and Max's brother Michael, who is supposed to bunk with him, has yet to make an appearance. He was delayed by some urgent work, apparently. Not that it will change a thing for Alex when he shows up, if he just goes skiing with the others all day.
“Careful,” Alex hears Isobel's voice outside. He frowns. She's supposed to be skiing with everyone else, since Michael apparently announced that he'd rent a car at the airport this morning. But it's Isobel's rental that he can glimpse through the fogged window. Getting both of his crutches in one hand, Alex opens the door.
He doesn't know what he expected, but it's not the scene that greets him. Isobel has pulled up her car as close to the cabin as she could get, like she did when she drove Alex and Liz here two days ago, and she's now walking backwards to the cabin with a backpack and a single shoe in her arms, worriedly watching Michael hop up to the door, leaning on two crutches, one foot bare and bandaged.
“What happened?” Alex asks, frowning. “I thought you−”
“I had to pick this one up at the hospital,” Isobel says, rolling her eyes. “He sprained his ankle coming out of the airport, apparently.”
“I did!” Michael exclaims, offended.
“Well, Michael, this is Alex Manes, Maria's best friend. Alex, Michael Guerin.”
“Guerin,” Alex nods at him, taking a step back to allow both of them through the door. Michael is ridiculously awkward on his crutches, even once in the safety of the cabin. “I would offer to shake your hand, but−”
“Right,” Michael says. “Those are a pain.”
Alex exchanges a look with Isobel, who smirks. “I know,” he says, holding up his own crutches before distributing his weight on them again, letting the door slam close.
“Oh, you too?”
Alex just smiles. “We've met before,” he says. “I would have been in uniform, so you may not remember. At Max and Liz's graduation party five years ago. I was overseas when they got married.”
“I remember you,” Michael winks, sinking into the couch. “How could I forget that face?”
“You were quite drunk,” Alex shrugs.
“I'll put those in your room,” Isobel says, nodding to Michael's bag and shoe. “You're bunking with Alex, by the way.”
“Wait, you didn't even ask him if he was okay with it?” Alex raises his eyebrows, making his way to an armchair. “I have my stuff on the floor, but I'll pick it up in a minute,” he adds.
“I don't mind,” Michael says.
“Good,” Isobel says, sounding like it wouldn't have changed anything to her plan if he had minded. “I've got to go back and pick up the others, it's almost lunch time. We'll be back soon. You two, don't bother trying to cook, we'll get some takeout, okay?”
“Sure,” Alex shrugs. He's been trying to convince her and Liz that he can cook even on crutches−although admittedly cooking for six would be a stretch−but they won't hear any of it. “At least I've got some company.”
“Don't burn down the cabin while I'm gone,” Isobel makes a menacing gesture before stepping back outside.
Alex reels a bit from her departure. She was inside for less than five minutes, a whirlwind of movement, after the quiet morning he's had by himself. And now there's the addition of a near stranger on the couch, who Alex had never talked to, and who doesn't seem to have a clue what to do with a sprained ankle.
“I'll get you some ice for that,” Alex tells him, standing up. He only takes one crutch with him. Now is as good a time as any to start testing how much weight he can put on the prosthesis like his therapist told him to, and he needs to carry back the ice.
“You don't have to−” Michael starts, but Alex is already in the kitchen. The cabin may have three bedrooms, but the living areas are tiny.
Alex grabs one of his ice packs from the freezer, thankful that he brought them in case his stump got irritated during the trip. They'll be useful to someone, at least.
“There,” he hands it to Michael, along with a towel to wrap it in.
“Thanks. This is a bummer.”
“You can remove your coat, you know,” Alex says.
“Oh, right.” Michael is a mess. He's sitting on the couch awkwardly, trying to balance so his injured foot doesn't touch the floor, still in his outside clothes, his crutches on the verge of falling off.
“Let me,” Alex says, limping over. He re-situates the crutches on the floor in front of the couch, where Michael can easily reach them, and helps him out of his coat and hat, putting them on a hook by the front door while Michael removes his remaining shoe.
“Scoot over,” Alex signals him until he's sitting sideways on the couch, his legs extended in front of him. He places a pillow under Michael's bandaged foot and the ice pack on top.
“Oh thanks, that feels good,” Michael sighs contentedly.
“How much does it hurt?” Alex asks.
“Not that bad, I just can't really move it,” Michael answers. “It's just a mild sprain, apparently.”
“Your first?”
“On an ankle, yes. I've sprained my wrists a couple of times.”
Alex nods, and regains his seat slowly, hiding his wince as he puts too much weight on the prosthesis.
“Can I ask−” Michael starts.
Alex bends down to knock his knuckles on his prosthesis. He's still not quite used to the metallic sound it makes. From the outside, he knows his leg looks whole, but the prosthesis is still new enough that he doesn't get to forget it's here.
“Oh,” Michael says eloquently. “Um, I guess I was expecting something−”
“Less permanent?” Alex finishes.
“Yeah, I figured you'd injured your knee or something.”
“I'm off the ski tracks for more than just this year,” Alex shrugs.
“Don't they make prostheses for skiing?” Michael asks.
Alex raises an eyebrow, amused that Michael would know something like that. “Sport prostheses are ridiculously expensive,” he says. “And I didn't like skiing all that much anyway.”
“I'm an engineer,” Michael explains. “I've never worked on prosthetics myself, but I did an internship for a company that made sport wheelchairs in college. You learn all kinds of interesting things.”
“Where do you work now?” Alex asks, because they might as well make conversation if they're going to be stuck together for the next few days.
“In a research lab in Albuquerque,” Michael answers.
“Oh, I didn't realize you lived in New Mexico,” Alex says.
“You're Liz and Maria's friend from high school right? So you're from Roswell?”
“Yeah, but I left at eighteen to enlist and I haven't really looked back,” Alex answers. Until now, that is.
“You in the Army?”
“Air Force. Or I was, at least. I haven't been officially discharged yet, but it's probably a matter of time.”
“So they give you a medal and just let you go, uh?” Michael says.
Alex internally sighs. As much as he knows, from the inside, that the military and its people can be hard to defend, he's had his fill of reheated takes on them. “Something like that,” he says, keeping his face neutral.
“So what are you gonna do now, Private?” Michael asks with a lopsided smirk.
Alex groans. “I think I'm going to go finish my PT,” he says, grabbing his crutches again.
“Wait! What did I say?” Michael protests as Alex walks away. “Hey, I'm stuck here, you can't just go!”
“I'm sure you'll survive on your own for fifteen minutes,” Alex says before he closes the bedroom door behind him. He does need to finish his PT before the others make it back here for lunch, and Michael just worsened his already irritated mood. Who does this guy think he is, so quick with judgment when they've only just met?
Alex lies down on his bed and takes a breath. He knows he's not being fair, that Michael clearly had a shitty morning and he should be empathizing, not sulking. But he's annoyed at everything, today. This vacation, the first time he's gone anywhere since being shipped back, should have been a much needed break from rehab, but it's turned out to be even more lonely. Sure, the two evenings have been nice with his friends, even if they treated it a bit like a double date and he felt superfluous, but the days are stretching out and giving him too much time to think about what he's missing.
He sits back up his head at a knock on the door.
“Hey, can I come in?” Michael asks.
“It's your room too,” Alex says.
Michael opens the door, then awkwardly makes his way inside. “I don't want to overstep boundaries,” he says. “And if you would prefer I sleep on the couch, I will. It's pretty comfy.”
“I've been sharing a room my whole life,” Alex shakes his head. “Three older brothers. And then the Air Force, not always with people I've liked. So I don't mind.”
Michael bites his lip. “I'm sorry for what I said. I tend to speak without thinking first.”
Alex isn't sure he even knows what he's apologizing for, but he appreciates the effort. He nods. “It's fine. I really do need to finish my PT though, and you shouldn't be up.”
Michael looks down at his foot. “True. I'm supposed to keep it elevated.”
He tries to leave the room, while still watching Alex like a hawk, and discovers turning around in a small space while on crutches is not as easy as it looks, especially when you're not paying attention. He nearly falls on his ass before he rights himself. Alex snorts to hide his instinctive move to catch him.
“I didn't think using those was so hard,” Michael says. “I admire you even more.”
“It takes some practice,” Alex shrugs.
“You'll have to teach me, then, since we're going to be stuck here.”
Alex bites back his urge to groan, catching himself imagining his hands on Michael, showing the proper arm position−
Fuck. The guy may be hot, but he is childish and infuriating. And it's not like Alex is looking for someone, or that he has a chance with Michael, for that matter. If him being a man isn't a deal-breaker−he's heard Michael is bisexual, but it was second-hand−then being down a leg will certainly be.
There's no way Michael is flirting with him right now.
“Sure,” he smiles as naturally as possible. “You can start by flexing your wrists outwards to distribute your weight better.”
Michael make an adorable frown as he looks down at his hands. “Like this?”
Alex starts to nod, when he hears the front door open. He's missed the car pulling up during their conversation. Out of an ingrained habit, he jumps to his feet, which sends a spike of pain up his leg. He gasps, and in turn s tartles Michael, who loses his grip on one of his crutches.
The next moment Alex manages to make any sense of his surroundings, he's hunched over his still cramping leg, and Michael is on his butt on the floor, crutches in a heap. Liz hurries over from the front door, tracking snow and mud all over the living room floor.
“Oh my God, are you two okay”?
Alex takes a moment to breathe through the pain, and he straightens up as the cramp starts to ease. He catches Michael's eyes, and they both burst out laughing.
“Ow,” Michael complains, sitting back against the door frame. “Second fall today, I'm going to be bruised all over. Mostly on my ass.”
Alex snorts. Liz laughs, relieved, and offers him a hand up. Michael hops on his good foot several times before he can find his balance again.
“Alex, you good?” Liz asks.
“Fine,” Alex nods. “Sorry I startled you, Guerin.”
“Nah, that was all me. Don't worry about it.”
“Isobel picked up sushi for lunch,” Liz says. “You hungry?”
“Coming,” Alex answers, picking up his crutches again. He'll have to do his PT later, after all. It's not great, he can feel his leg protest the weight he puts on it as he walks to the living room behind Michael, but it can't be helped.
The others are still getting out of their boots and snowsuits, while Isobel has grabbed plates and silverware to set the table. Six of them around it is going to be a bit of a tight fit .
“Sit here,” Alex points Michael to a seat, after taking one look at the table. “You can elevate your leg without anyone kicking it.”
“Thank you,” Michael says gratefully, as Alex drags the extra chair over for him to put up his foot. Maria kindly takes both pairs of crutches to lean them against the wall.
“You two make quite the pair,” Max smirks, turning to his brother. “What the hell happened to you anyway?”
“I tried to get a cab from the airport, but there was a stupid patch of ice on the curb,” Michael explains. “I hate this weather.”
“You were saying the exact opposite when it started snowing,” Isobel points out.
“Yeah, well I was young and stupid then. I know better now. This snow is going to be the death of me.”
Alex laughs with the others at Michael's faked offense. Maria catches his eyes briefly and something in her gaze makes him realize that today is probably the first time he's laughed freely since coming back from Iraq. He blinks at the thought. Michael's antics somehow achieved in half an hour what all of Maria, Liz and Kyle's combined efforts have failed to do for t hree months.
M ax and Isobel keep teasing their brother through lunch, though the conversation turns to the funding application deadline that delayed Michael's coming. Alex learns that Michael is the leading researcher on a spaceship design project, even though he doesn't have a tenure track job yet. He apparently finished his PhD over a year before Liz did, and Alex knows for a fact that Liz raced through the hoops, despite transferring universities several times. In other words, Michael is a genius.
Alex wonders if the people who hail him a hero, who thank him for his service, ever feel this inadequate in front of him.
H e keeps an eye on Michael as the others get ready to head out again. His smile as he assures his sibling that he'll be fine is just a little tight, and Alex doesn't think he would have noticed if he didn't feel much the same hint of jealousy and resentment. Neither of them will say anything, because their friends deserve to have their fun, but being left behind still stings.
Alex grits his teeth against the added sting of knowing that Michael will be skiing or running in a couple of weeks just fine and he won't. This isn't fair of him and he knows it.
“What should we do?” Michael asks, oblivious to it, when it's just the two of them left in the living room.
“I do really need to do my PT,” Alex answers. And to work through his current tenseness. “We can watch a movie or something after if you want. You should ice your ankle again.”
“What did you do the last few days?”
“Reading, watching Netflix, some coding on my laptop,” Alex lists. “What little workout I can do without equipment.”
“Okay. A movie sounds good.”
Michael throws himself down on the couch, not following Alex's advice about the ice, and grabs the TV remote. Alex shakes his head and head back to his room. Their room. Right. It's not exactly the first time that he's slept in the same room as a guy he's been both attracted to and annoyed by, but being in the same room 24/7 with Michael for the next few days is going to be a challenge. Maybe it will make his vacation interesting, at least.
He hears the TV while he works on his PT, first awful Christmas adverts then some random daytime program. Michael looks utterly bored when Alex comes back, squirming in the couch like he's aching.
Alex grabs the melted ice pack from the coffee table and gets Michael another one. “Here,” he throws it at him.
Michael jumps and catches it just before it lands smack on his face. “Oh, thanks. Is there anything worse than daytime TV around Christmas? ”
“Daytime TV every other day of the year,” Alex answers dropping on the couch beside him. “Move over. What do you want to watch?”
“Uh, I don't know, what do you like?”
A lex's instinct is to deflect. Nearly a decade of hiding everything about himself from the Air Force, and a life of being abused and mocked for what he likes leave marks. “I'm versatile,” he shrugs. “Action, sci-fi, thrillers, I've got Netflix, and a bunch of classics on my laptop if you prefer.”
“Star Wars?” Michael asks. “I gotta brush up before the new one comes out.”
“That's in a year,” Alex says flatly.
Michael smirks. “Oh, so you are a nerd. Thought so.”
Alex groans at being caught so easily . “Which one do you want?” he asks, grabbing his laptop.
“Start from the beginning? We'll be here for a while.”
Alex doesn't bother to ask if he wants them by release order or chronologically, and sends A New Hope over to the TV.
It's only when the end credits roll out that he realizes that Michael and him have quote d lines and bickered over their favorite scenes throughout the movie like old friends, without him getting annoyed once.
Maybe Michael isn't so bad after all.