something I haven’t seen discussed in RNM, specifically for the Manes brothers, is how child abuse victims usually don’t have a frame of reference for healthy or “normal” development or parent/child dynamics, and that Alex possibly skidded by the as the most likely to work through shit sooner because he had such a close relationship with both Mimi and Jim, because he could see how adults should have taken care of him vs like Flint and Greg having no frame of reference (and they definitely were victims of emotional and verbal abuse as well as corporeal punishment), and just how that played into their relationships with each other, with Flint as a full grown man still trying to prove to his father that he was good enough- that he wasn’t like Alex, because his developing mind was built around the idea that Alex deserved what happened- which obviously isn’t true, but with how fucked up that idea being instilled into him at a young age even knowing that he’s gonna have to fight that trauma wiring for a really long time (if not forever), cause the brothers not subjected to being the scapegoat still were victims of abuse just like Alex said “what he did to you was abuse too” and just- the way it’s handled, with Greg citrin himself off from the whole family to do self introspection, Flint trying to earn love and Alex’s battle with self acceptance is very well handled, because the younger ones have more of a struggle with self and the older ones have more of a struggle with acceptance and that’s kinda how it works- because of child developmental stuff
anyways, fuck Jesse Manes or whatever and someone get my boy Flint into therapy or a loving relationship that forces him to crack himself open and really sit with himself
“Max, Michael, and Isobel are siblings (and aliens). Max had a high school love triangle with Liz and Kyle which continued into adulthood despite starting a semi-relationship with Cam. Kyle also falls for Max’s sister Isobel who also has a girlfriend Anatsa. Their brother Michael is in love with Liz’s two close friends, Alex (high school sweetheart) and Maria (new interest, related to Isobel) who are BFFs (headcanonned as QPR). Maria is also dating Greg (Alex’s brother) and Dallas (sort of family to the sibling trio, his dad was close to Michael’s and Isobel’s moms). Dallas is childhood friends with/maybe qpr-crushing on Heath who is also Liz’s friend/lower-level boyfriend. This basically takes all the main love triangles of the show, changes a few close friendships to qprs, and turns the whole thing into a simultaneous polycule. They’re so busy learning about aliens, keeping secrets about aliens, and fighting both aliens and the military, they shouldn’t have to deal with relationship drama. Also, 6-7 of them are related to members of the 1940s polycule!”
Tripp's Polycule
“Three aliens in a QPR crash land in the 1940s and two of them get human boyfriends (a farmer who is hiding them and a soldier who is supposed to be hunting them). Their story ends in tragedy but for a year, they had a happy polycule hidden from the rest of the world. (The two romances are canon, the qpr is implied/fanon)”
Just your reminder that Gregory Manes deserves good things and deserved way better than what he got in season 4. And Alex deserved to have his brother in his life and certainly at his wedding.
for this AU day I decided to continue my outlaw au with an idea i’ve had for a little while where Greg comes face to face with outlaw!alex. If you’re not familiar with the first part of the series I do recommend you read it to understand this one. you should also listen to the song that inspired the series.
for @christchex <3 <3 <3
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Greg was outta the Navy and teaching school, teaching little kids, or so Maria said, and that alone almost had Alex packing Michael up and on his way to the frozen north when he caught wind of what else Greg was up to these days.
It was a quiet night, motel windows closed on the chill, Michael’s stomach warm and soft under Alex’s cheek while Michael watched some news show on TV and Alex dozed until his pillow tensed to steel, shaking him awake.
“…my little brother,” the TV was saying.
“Alex,” Michael breathed. “Isn’t that…”
And they both stared in dull horror as Greg Manes continued, “I’m just trying to bring my family back together. Alex, if you’re out there, please come home.”
The cameras cut away to a newswoman droning out the bare bones story of the night Jesse Manes died, until Alex picked the remote up off the mustard colored bedspread and shut her off.
“Well,” Michael said.
And Alex said, “Fuck.”
In the end, it was Michael made him go, though they fought over it worse than they’d fought in a long time. He was right to say that seeing him and putting on airs that he just wanted to be left alone was the best chance they had of keeping their lives on track and untouched, even if Alex didn’t have to like it.
“I’ll be right down the block in the getaway car,” Michael said against his lips, eyelashes against his cheek, and Alex held him close for a little while longer before he got out and started walking up the street to Greg’s house.
Greg looked at him like he was a ghost. People were predictable like that, even when the gun was locked in the glovebox.
He swept Alex to the living room and pressed him with water, then beer, then tea, like making up for lost time in liters, just like a Navy man to try and drown them both to avoid a conversation. Alex almost made the joke, but it would have been too much, a thing like that, like walking naked down the street. He kept his mouth shut instead and his eyes fixed on the dirt under his fingernails against Greg’s clean, plain cups.
“After all this time,” Greg said. “Seeing you again—Alex, we thought you were dead, we all…why didn’t you ever come back? Or reach out?”
“Come to the funeral?”
“None of us came to the funeral.”
Alex took a long sip of his tea while that sat on top of the water like scum. What to do with a thing like that?
Eventually, he said, “Didn’t know anyone cared but the tabloids.”
Greg sucked in a breath, and the corner of his jaw ticked just like their Daddy’s used to, but the emotions that man tidied up off his face were never anything like grief or regret.
“Okay,” he said. “Ok. That’s fair. But now that you’re here, I—I want you to know that I care. Whatever happened, whatever is happening in your life now, even if it’s just a phone call every now and then, you don’t have to disappear again.”
“I appreciate it,” Alex said and meant it. “But I don’t want or need a homecoming. People would ask questions, and I…” he shrugged. Damn Greg, damn him and his care and his face and his little home with dishes in the sink and his students’ art on the fridge. He’d already said too much.
Greg hesitated, a finger curled but without the force it took to pull a trigger. That should’ve been Alex’s clue to bolt, but he was all dazed and confused.
“Would those questions be about…someone else?”
The gun was in the glovebox, but Alex had his fists.
“What are you talking about.”
“They never tested the blood in the toolshed. Flint always said Valenti had it out for Dad and bungled the investigation on purpose, but I always thought I had a better idea of what happened. I thought…maybe…he caught you out there with…”
Alex made a noise through his teeth, and Greg paused.
Then he spoke again, all careful. “I understand if you’ve got a partner, Alex. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Thanks.”
Michael liked delicate things; they fascinated him. He liked handling them and not breaking them just to prove he could. But Alex—every word Greg spoke made him want to rip lace apart with his teeth.
“You know, I’ve done a little digging of my own since I got out of the Navy. It…it turns out there was another kid who went missing around the same time as you.”
He probably had knives in the kitchen.
Greg continued still. “His name was Michael Guerin. They said he was a runaway. And maybe I’m seeing a pattern that’s not there, but.”
The violence in Alex quieted somehow at the next thing Greg said, and Alex was just his little brother again. The gun was still in the glovebox, and Alex’s hands spread flat across his knees, over jeans ripped enough they could have been hand-me-downs.
“The blood in the toolshed,” Greg said like there was a confessional wall between them. “Please, Alex, I understand if you’re wary of me, but I got to looking at pictures of Guerin from before he disappeared, and if you could just tell me Dad didn’t kill him, it would help me sleep tonight.”
“Would it? You care all the sudden? You didn’t care when you were at your little press conference,” Alex snarled.
“What was I supposed to say? You were the one worried about people asking questions. I thought I’d try asking you first in case you were dead and the investigation did get re-opened, instead of throwing this kid straight to the wolves.”
He raised his hands helplessly. Alex hadn’t been that helpless in a long, long time. He made sure of it, to never be helpless so he could always help Michael. He oughtta hate his brother, he thought, for the disruption he’d brought to their lives, for the fear in Michael’s face, for his cream colored sweater, for the way he couldn’t be assed to stand up at home when it mattered or at the graveside when it would never matter again. It was worse somehow to know his brothers never loved their father neither. Yeah, it was worse.
“Even back then, I didn’t push for them to test the blood. I was the one who cleaned it up. I didn’t want to know if it was yours, and if it was another boy’s, I didn’t want to risk them hunting you down, if….if.”
There was no hunt. Alex’s belly was hollow even though Michael kept him well fed. It wasn’t because of any cleverness or quickness or those other things Alex honed to razor’s edge to keep them out of trouble. There was no hunt because there was no suspect because there was no one to miss a boy spat out by the system who bled his life into the dirt floor of a dead man’s toolshed. Had Michael known it all this time?
Alex needed to get back to him, needed him to know how sharp he missed him all the time, whenever they weren’t together, half his lungs, half his senses, half the stars in the sky, half the gravity keeping all the planets cozy in orbit.
“What if I tell you that thing you’re dancing around is true?” Alex bared his teeth. “Still want baby brother back? Or just want your morbid curiosity sated?”
“I’d want you to call Michael Guerin in from wherever he is so I could give him a drink and a handshake too,” Greg said. “And I’d want my brother in my life. That’s all.”
Alex looked him up and down and he bet little kids made Greg little promises all day long. He talked to Maria from a payphone and she told him Greg taught the same age he was when their mom left, and that was something, meant something, even if Alex wasn’t quite sure what.
“That’s it? No search for the truth? No quest for justice? What kind of lessons are you teaching the kids?”
Greg just shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? Must have been the way I was raised.”
