weren’t we birds of a feather?
Summary: Michael and Alex follow a lead.
"Are you absolutely sure this is the guy? This doesn't feel like the guy."
"Shut up, Guerin."
Michael let Alex have his mini-stare down with him because it didn't change the fact that this didn't feel like the guy. They'd searched high and low to find someone who might have information on Project Shepard from back in the day, someone who was no longer affiliated but still might know something. That brought them to some old guy's secret basement in Colorado that was beneath a secret house that almost got them shot when they turned up unannounced.
But, aside from the shotgun entrance, the guy didn't seem like he ever was some top-secret military personnel.
“Here’s some wine,” Col. Klein said, handing them each sparkling little glasses with Rosé filled to the brim. They took them, but neither of them drank. “I’m assuming you’re here about the aliens.” Michael looked over to Alex with nervous eyes. Okay, maybe it might be the guy.
“Project Shepard, sir. I’m‒”
“Captain Alexander Manes, son of Major Sargent Jesse Manes. And this is Michael Guerin,” Col. Klein said, giving that sweet old man smile that could’ve been mistaken as not threatening but Michael knew better. He took a step in front of Alex only to not-so-nicely shoved behind him by the Airman himself.
“Yes. I’ve been looking into Project Shepard and working on dismantling it, but there are a few pieces missing and you’re the only one on record to no longer be affiliated and survived,” Alex said simply, his military tone in full force as he placed the glass down. Col. Klein didn’t seem even a little phased.
“That’s because your father’s a meatheaded bastard. No offense, son,” he said. Michael quickly turned his eyes to Alex, only to see him smiling. He wasn’t sure if it was real or for show just yet.
“None taken.”
“Come, come sit,” he urged, ushering them over to the little tattered couch. Col. Klien sat across from them on the equally tattered recliner, sipping on his own glass and gesturing for them to drink. Michael again checked with Alex who nodded, simultaneously taking a sip. Alex’s face screwed up at the strength, but Michael had definitely had worse. Even if it was really fucking strong for wine.
“Is, is there anything you can tell us? Like, if there are any more bases we should check out? Anyone as high up as my father?” Alex asked. Col. Klein sat back, a thoughtful expression covering his dark features.
“Well, it’s been a minute, but I’m sure your dad has some bullshit up his sleeve. I have never met a man so full of himself unless you wanna count his father and grandfather. You come from a long, long line of meatheads, Captain, though I know you’re a bit better than them,” he said, smiling as he gestured towards Michael. The alien shifted in his seat. There was something he really didn’t like about being trapped in a basement with a man who knew all about how to subdue aliens and had weapons lining the walls. He was sure if he was alone, he would’ve hauled ass before he made it to the door.
“Thank you, sir, I do my best.”
“Back in the day, when I was still workin’ with ‘em, you know, it was a real shitshow. These men who I’d known for years and years and who I thought were good people were just… so willing to be hands-on with torture just because they were a little different. I still to this day don’t get it, how they so willingly hurt these people who look like us. And then I think back to the war, to the people I’ve probably hurt without even knowing it and it makes me wonder if I’m any better,” Col. Klein said, shaking his head. Michael balled up his hands in his lap, focusing on the floor in front of him. He wasn’t too sure how prepared he was to hear about the torture of his people.
“I understand, sir,” Alex said because of course he did. His hand mindlessly reached to Michael’s knee, squeezing and giving him the comfort he needed.
“I never, never personally hurt any of them, son,” Col. Klein said and it took a moment for Michael to realize he was talking to him. He made sure to make eye contact after downing the rest of the wine. “But I stood by and that makes me just as bad. And I started to realize that as I aged and I didn’t want to be that person. So I tried to help them.”
“So did we,” Alex said, nodding his head. Michael’s jaw clenched.
“I set off the escape security bullshit and blew up the entire prison,” Michael grumbled. Col. Klein filled his glass again.
“I wasn’t even ballsy enough to do that. I just started trying to befriend them, really. I would try to talk to them and I’d make sure they got fed and would try to talk my way out of their experiments. I don’t think it was much, but I saw a few smiles and, honestly, it made me feel better,” he explained, nodding his head. Michael finished off his glass and went to grab Alex’s. This was a horrible, horrible idea. “But eventually your father found out what I was doing and weaseled his way into getting me discharged.”
“How? You were at a higher ranking, how did he even do that?” Alex asked. He gave a sad little smile.
“Your father is an expert at getting what he wants, son,” Col. Klein said. No other information was needed though Michael really wanted some.
“I understand. So, we’ve found Caulfield and the bunkers in Roswell and in Marfa. But the records stop being regularly updated around 2010 when the government pulled funding, do you know of anything? Anywhere else we should look?” Alex asked.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Col. Klein stood to his feet. They both watched as he slowly made his way to the cabinet in the back corner. Michael instinctually grabbed Alex’s arm, even as the Airman sat up straight and placed his arm protectively in front of him.
But then the cabinet opened and revealed a massive map with plot points all over the country and stacks of information.
“I stole a lot of stuff before I got discharged, figured it’d be safer with me than with reckless men,” Col. Klien said proudly, gesturing for them to come see, “Go on. Take a look. You can do much more with it than I can.”
For the next three hours, the three of them poured over the information. There were entire essays on each of the aliens, discussing their abilities and how they worked. Every once in a while, they’d come across one that Klein had befriended and he would correct some of the essay’s information. It led Michael to believe that all of them had some falsehoods, namely the more violent aspects of them. He was admittedly a little tipsy through it all, but he did come out of it feeling satisfied that he’d finally gotten some answers.
“Guess we’re going on a cross country road trip to find all these places, Guerin,” Alex grinned, slumping back on the couch a little tipsy himself.
“Cheers to fixing some wrongs!” The colonel said, holding up his glass.
“Fixing some wrongs,” Micahel and Alex agreed, clinking glasses and downing them.
“You guys’ll have to keep me updated, I’d like to hear about them getting what’s comin’ to ‘em,” Colonel laughed, reaching forward to fill their glasses again.
“Oh, no, we can’t. I’ve gotta drive back to Roswell still,” Alex said, waving it off. Col. Klein raised his eyebrows.
“Drive back to Roswell? Tonight? It’s nearly 2 in the morning!” he scoffed, “Just take the guest room, it’ll be safer.”
They shared a look.
“I mean, it is pretty late and I drank too much to really split the driving,” Michael said softly. Alex nodded before they both looked back to the Colonel. “Could I sleep on the couch?”
The old man furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you wanna do that? Got a little lover’s quarrel? Or do you just wanna pretend since you’re in the presence of an old man? I’ll have you know, I went to many Pride Parades back in my day. Though, they were less parades and more protests, but still. Fought for the rights. I don’t mind.” Michael felt his eyes go wide as a laugh bubbled in him.
“No, no, we’re friends,” he said.
“Yeah, just friends,” Alex agreed. Colonel Klein grinned.
“Well, I don’t believe that for a minute!” he laughed. Michael looked over at Alex again only to see him putting more space between them. “You two have been attached at the hip since you got in here, you constantly are speaking without saying anything, and you both care enough about each other that you came to some old Colonel’s basement and didn’t mind being shot at if it meant getting answers for each other. You both scream love if I’ve ever seen it.”
“No, we just…”
“I didn’t even mention the fact that you got all that shared trauma. Brings people together, you know? Maybe it hurts, but you gotta find solace somewhere and it’s safest with the person who gets it. Trust me,” Col. Klein said, winking at them before pouring his own glass before he stood up. Michael looked down at his hands. “You can sleep on the couch, I won’t stop you, but, if I were you, I’d just share the damn bed. You guys have a good night.”
Neither of them had any words to say as he climbed the stairs, leaving them to their own devices.
“A-are you sure you want the couch? You can take the bed,” Alex offered. Michael looked at him like he’d gone insane.
“No offense, but you would literally have to kill me to take the bed. Go on,” Michael argued. Alex gave him a sweet, probably slightly tipsy little smile.
“Okay, Guerin,” Alex said, standing to his feet, “Goodnight.”
Michael forced himself to get comfortable on the little couch, staring blankly at the floor as he processed the words the Colonel had said. Shared trauma. Safest with the person who gets it. That had to be bullshit. Or, at least on some level. That’s why he even went to Maria all those months ago. The shared trauma is what made it hard to go to Alex. Sure, they hadn’t worked and he and Alex had made up and the trauma they shared definitely made him feel protective as hell, but it didn’t mean they had to be together.
Mindlessly, Michael stood up to go to Alex only to see the Airman already walking out of the door.
“Um, hi,” he fumbled. Alex licked his lips.
“We weren’t attached at the hip all night, were we?” Alex asked. Michael shook his head.
“Absolutely not. And, if we were, it’s because we literally just got shot at and, like, safety in numbers,” Michael explained.
“Yeah, right, and the shared trauma thing? That, that pushes people apart.”
“Exactly! Yeah, and, and he was‒”
“Drunk! So drunk! And he doesn’t know us, we’ve just spent a couple hours with him and he just thinks he’s got it all right.”
“God, okay, yeah, I’m so glad we’re, we’re on the same page.”
“Exact same page, we’re so fine.”
Micahel nodded, finding himself rendered silent as he took in Alex. He had taken off his jacket and his jeans, leaving him in a t-shirt that had to have been bought before the military muscle and tight briefs that look too good for a tipsy mind to handle. He hadn’t even taken his prosthetic off. Micahel shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Right, right, okay, goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
They both made their way to their respective spaces. Michael sat on the couch, his fingernails wedging between his teeth as he softly tapped his foot against the floor. His mind was flooded with images of Alex and the swirled possibility that maybe, just maybe, Colonel Klein was right. Maybe he had been handling the whole trauma thing wrong. Maybe Alex should be his safe place.
Michael made his way towards Alex’s door again to have a revised conversation. He barely raised his fist to knock when Alex threw open the door. Michael blinked a few times and opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly silenced by Alex pushing into his space and giving him the sweetest little kiss. It led to another kiss and another and another and Michael decided Colonel Klein was the smartest person in the world. Who would’ve thought that acknowledging their shared trauma would make him realize just how much he needed him?
“Are you sure?” Michael whispered, cradling the Airman’s face in his hands for the first time in way too long. Alex smiled as he pulled him into the room.
“Absolutely.”