Hello, I love your stories so much! Would you be willing to do one where Michael realizes that when Alex called the incident of 2x06 hell he actually meant it and that he really didn't enjoy it? Thank you!
Disclaimer: very anti-M*ria DeL*ca
Michael started to notice it about two weeks after coming back from their honeymoon.
Alex had come to meet him at the junkyard, and Michael had made a teasing remark about sneaking into the airstream for some of their old fun. He’d meant it as a joke, but Alex had flinched and taken a step back, as though afraid Michael would drag him inside. Michael had been about to ask if he was okay, but just then Dallas had come back and asked if they wanted to step inside for a cup of tea and some lunch. Michael had waited to see that same reaction, but Alex only smiled, relieved, and happily accepted.
Michael had thought he’d just imagined that scared look on his face, but then it came again the next night when he’d suggested getting a drink at the Wild Pony. Alex had nodded and agreed to go, everything seemed fine, until Michael had mentioned that Maria had these cocktail shrimps she wanted them to try.
Alex froze. “Er, Maria’s going to be there tonight?”
“Yeah?” Michael said while adjusting his collar, “So, do you want to grab dinner first, or –”
“Actually,” he cut him off, “I’ve been having a lot of stomach pain lately, so I – I think I should pass on the drinks tonight.”
Michael frowned, coming up to him and putting a hand on his belly, his other hand on his brow. “What, you’re sick?”
“No no,” he shook his head, covering Michael’s hand on his stomach with his own, “nothing like that, it must just be an acid thing. Y-You should go, have fun.”
Michael’s shoulders fell. “Well, I don’t want to go if you’re not going. Hey, why don’t we just stay in and I can make us some dinner instead? Something good for your stomach.”
He didn’t realize how nervous Alex’s smile looked until it softened. He’d been worried that Alex was uneasy about Michael being near Maria, but they’d talked about that, hadn’t they? Michael knew how much Alex hated it when he and Maria were alone or too close, and after everything that had happened, he wanted to ease his fears. But Alex had even told Michael to go by himself, so what else was going on?
Finally, that Sunday morning, Michael knew he had to say something. He and Alex liked to have breakfast together on Sundays since it was the one day they were both free from work, and they usually talked about anything and everything during that time. Even though it was their laziest morning, meant to establish some peace after a busy week, nothing was ever off-limits. Mostly because each of them knew they had the other to lean against and take comfort from if anything got too heavy.
That was why, when Michael asked, “What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you?” he did it with a bite of pancake in his mouth.
Alex smiled, amused, and wiped a dollop of maple syrup from the corner of his lips before bringing it up to his mouth to suck clean. “You already know,” he said vaguely. “What about you?”
Michael took a second to focus after that display, and cleared his throat. “Caulfield,” he said without hesitation. Then, to keep himself from thinking about it too much, he pointed his fork at Alex, eyes narrowed. “And that’s not fair, you have to actually tell me yours.”
“I did tell you mine,” he chuckled, though it sounded quieter to Michael’s ears. “I told you when it happened.”
Michael’s brows furrowed, thinking hard, even as Alex was clearly trying to move past the conversation.
“More whipped cream?” he offered.
“When was this?” Michael asked, undeterred. “You told me when it happened, was I there?”
“Yeah, you were there,” Alex said with a hint of his old smile, but the way his voice turned quieter and quieter was starting to get alarming. Michael sat up straighter, waiting expectantly. Alex sighed. “That night in the trailer? With . . . Maria? I told you it was a circle of hell.”
“Yeah, but,” Michael rolled his eyes, “seriously though.”
Alex raised a brow, the amusement in his eyes dimmed. “Seriously though.”
“No,” he smiled, even as his brows furrowed, “no, that . . . you were joking. You were . . . you were joking then, right? I mean, you wanted to be there –”
“Well, maybe I didn’t feel like I was allowed to not be there,” he said with an edge that Michael had not expected, but which had his heart plummeting into his stomach anyway.
“Nothing,” he said, already grabbing plates and turning away. “Nothing, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey,” Michael grabbed him around his waist, hauling him back in. “Don’t apologize to me. There’s nothing off-limits, remember? I just . . .” his mind was racing and dread was coiling in his stomach and he felt sick. “Alex . . . did you stay that night . . . because you thought you had to?”
Alex looked away, exhaustion etched into his features. This had clearly been weighing on him for years. Years, Michael thought with horror.
“I’d just been stabbed,” he said. “She was my only ride there. You were already looking for any excuse to avoid me. I . . . I trusted her. I thought she would take me back, and then I thought you would just . . .” he shook his head, blushing, “I don’t know, protect me from it or something, but none of that happened and I was just stuck there. And I thought that if I said no anyway, that if I left and tried to walk back, you would never look at me again.” His smile was small, but there was nothing humorous or amused about it. “Hell was every time she touched me. Every time she touched you. Hell was waking up the next morning and trying to convince myself that my best friend hadn’t raped me.”
His smile falling, he stepped out of Michael’s hold and returned to the sink. Michael sat there, in shock, staring at Alex’s back as he continued to wash dishes like he hadn’t just told Michael that he’d felt sexually assaulted, that Michael had been part of it, that Michael had allowed it.
He remembered that night well, thought of it often, of all the things he would’ve done differently. But he always imagined taking Alex in his arms, confessing that he was all he wanted, that Maria should leave because the only person he wanted to see touching Alex was him. He remembered his jealousy, his desire to possess Alex, his need to make him feel as good as possible so that his eyes never wandered to anyone else, even after he left. He’d wanted to make him feel good enough that Alex wouldn’t mind waiting for him.
He hadn’t given a second to think how Alex had felt having no other option. Now that he thought through that night, half of it filled with regret that there had been anyone else with them, he couldn’t remember one instance when he’d offered to drive Alex home, to take him to the hospital, even to loan him his phone to call anyone else.
Alex had been trapped there, and Michael had helped attack him.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and when Alex turned back around to grab the empty cups, he stilled. Quickly setting the glass down, he came back to Michael and cupped his jaw. “Why are you crying?” he breathed. “Michael, it’s okay, it was years ago, I – I’ve forgiven her –”
“Did she know?” he demanded. “Did she know what I meant to you? How it felt when a woman touched you?”
Alex swallowed. “Guerin –”
His husband glanced down, and Michael got his answer. “We’d talked about it earlier that day. She said she used to have a crush on me –”
“So she forced herself on you, and used me to keep you there,” Michael breathed, his hands vibrating. Then he realized that it was the entire house that was vibrating.
“Michael,” Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders to steady himself, looking around, “you’re making the ground shake, stop it, you’ll bring the whole house down!”
“I’m gonna bring her damn bar down,” Michael growled. “I’m gonna make her sorry she ever put a finger on you, and then I’m gonna spend the rest of my life begging for your forgiveness –”
“Stop stop stop,” Alex hugged him tight, slipping a hand into his hair and tugging hard enough on the roots to yank Michael out of his angry haze. “Please calm down. For me, Michael, for me.”
It was Alex’s plea, his voice, his hands on Michael, his heart hammering against Michael’s chest. Distantly, he felt the earth still beneath him, but he couldn’t keep himself from shaking. He hugged Alex’s waist slowly, staring through the window over his shoulder, unseeing.
“You’re never going to talk to her again,” he said in a hollow, low voice.
Alex hesitated. “Michael –”
“She talked about that night afterwards like it was funny,” he whispered. “She doesn’t even think she did anything wrong. You’re never talking to that bitch again.”
Alex said nothing a moment, but he seemed to sense that Michael wasn’t going to allow any other response because he just nodded.
“She’s never going to touch you,” he went on. “She’s never going to say your name, and if she even looks in your direction, I’ll destroy the Wild Pony and set it on fire.”
“She raped you, Alex, and she knew she was doing it!” he snapped, squeezing Alex to him. “You’re never going near her again. Tell me you’re never going near her again.”
Alex sighed against his shoulder. “Okay, my pretty cowboy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please calm down.”
Michael didn’t calm down. He couldn’t, not until he was holding Alex in a bruising grip, undoubtedly making it impossible for him to breathe, but he couldn’t get himself to let go. The way Alex had looked at him that night, it came back to him now. Not just with longing and yearning, mirroring his own feelings, but something else that he was now recognizing as fear. He’d been waiting for Michael to save him.
Michael swore then he would never fail Alex again.
Alex melted against him. He’d had years to get over this, but Michael could feel the way the last of his resentment about it dissipated the longer he held him. He wished more than anything that he’d really listened to Alex then, when he’d told Michael how he felt and expected the man he loved to care. So much could’ve been different.
“Thanks, Michael,” Alex murmured against his neck, “but you’re all mine now. I don’t care about anything else.”
This was very cathartic for me. Villains are villains, folks, whether they're played by women or not :)
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