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The thing was, Alex wasn’t heartbroken.
Really, he wasn’t. He was disappointed, yes, angry with himself, hurt by the flash of anger in Michael’s eyes. Haunted, even, by the finality with which Michael had declared I’m saying no. And yeah, okay, so maybe he’d cried about it a little bit. It had been a long several months, he was at the end of his rope, he wanted someone to give him a hug, and it sucked. It really sucked, to feel like there was this parallel life track where if he’d said the right thing, made his choices a little faster, then maybe…
Well, then maybe he would have earned the right to be there for Michael while he fell apart. Over Max, over Caulfield and his mom. All Alex wanted to do was hold him through the worst of it, promise him that he’d be there. He’d never been good at offering comfort, and he suspected Michael would be lousy about accepting his help to begin with, but it didn’t matter, he still wanted to try. But he couldn’t be that person for Michael if Michael didn’t want him to be.
But Alex wasn’t heartbroken.
He simply didn’t have time to nurse a broken heart right now, so he got his brief and humiliating periods of crying in while he was working on other things, letting his vision blur for a few moments and then blinking away the tears while he tapped frantically at a keyboard or rifled through papers with Kyle.
He had to deal with his stupid father in a stupid coma, and his brother stealing Noah’s body, and therefore potentially their only chance to save Max. He made himself care about Max Evans more than he ever had before. For Liz’s sake. For Michael’s. If he could just do this one thing for him, then he’d—
There were too many other people’s feelings to consider, so it was easy for the most part to ignore his own. His own processing about Rosa’s reappearance had to take a backseat to Liz and Kyle, both of whom had just gotten a sister back. His own muted astonishment at Max Evans’s heroic death didn’t matter, in the face of what Michael, Isobel, and Liz all suffered. He was Alex Manes. He was there to do a job, there to help however he could. There would be time for his friends to give a shit about him in the future, but that time wasn’t now, and he knew that very well.
Manes Men, Michael had said. Manes Men experimented on her. The look in his eyes had made it pretty clear he considered Alex one of their number. If anything was going to break his heart, it would have been that. He’d wanted to explain himself. Everything he’d done, all the plans he still had, it was all for the sole purpose of keeping Michael safe, of doing right by him when so many others had failed. Alex would give up everything in service of that goal; it had become his life’s mission, even if Michael never recognized it or thanked him for it.
He wasn’t heartbroken, and he wasn’t angry, either. At least, he hadn’t thought he was angry, until he stepped out of his car on his way to check on progress with Noah’s body, coordinate with Kyle on any next moves they needed to make, and saw Michael walking in his direction. He was probably getting some air, or stocking up on supplies for the scientific work ahead. Michael had his head down, typing something on his phone, so he didn’t see Alex walking towards him until they were close to each other. When he looked up, Alex saw several things flash through his eyes in rapid succession. Dread, mostly. A wariness that meant that if he could have pretended not to see Alex, if he could have escaped around a random corner and prevented an encounter altogether, he would have done it.
And so yeah, maybe Alex was a little angry. Maybe it felt sort of good.
“Kyle and Liz inside?” Alex asked when he and Michael were only a few feet apart.
“Mm,” Michael hummed his confirmation and made to keep moving without further comment. Alex heard the ringing echo of his voice from the last time they’d talked: There’s no fixing this! Let it go!
“Bringing back the guitar was a low fucking blow,” Alex said tightly. Michael stopped short, his mouth starting to twist into a familiar sneer, but Alex wasn’t done. “Maybe it’s my turn to sit here and take it while you do your best to hurt me, but for the sake of Max, of Rosa, and all the rest of it, I’m calling a truce. So if you have anything else you want to get off your chest, do it now, Guerin. Otherwise, we’re friends. We’re family. Come what fucking may, and you don’t get to say no to that, asshole.”
Michael blinked at him, and the false smirk he’d hitched onto his face when he’d seen Alex, the one he was using to deflect damage, fell away slowly, his eyes mournful and a little bewildered. “Leaving me the guitar was the low blow, Manes.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“I’m on your side,” Alex said, and his voice betrayed him, cracking. He threw his arms out, kept his voice low. “You don’t want to look into what happened with the alien prisoners, that’s fine. But I’m not going to stop looking. I’m not going to stop fighting for whatever scrap of justice I can find for them. And I’ll do whatever it takes to bring your brother back, Michael, I swear, I’ll tear my whole family apart for the sake of yours, I’ll sacrifice myself on the damn altar of your pain and your grief, and I will do all of that without hesitation. I’m not doing any of it so you’ll stop hating me, I’m doing it so maybe one day I’ll be able to sleep at night, knowing that at least you’re okay. Now do you accept the damn truce, or not?”
Michael’s lips were a tight, bloodless line, his eyes wide and jaw clenched. “I don’t want to hear another word about sacrifices, got it? If you seriously think I hate you—”
“Michael.”
“Yes, I accept the truce.” Michael coughed, looking down at the ground. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before.”
“You’ve been through a lot.”
“Right. Something we have in common.”
“And I’m sorry about your hand. That Max did that without permission, that fucking sucks.”
Michael looked up, and this time there was a genuine softening around his eyes, some muted echo of affection that made Alex want to start crying again. Evidence that Michael didn’t hate him was sometimes worse than thinking that he did. “You know, everyone keeps telling me how glad they are. Isobel and Liz. Even Kyle said congrats.”
“I am glad you’re not in pain anymore,” Alex said bluntly. “I know it bothered you more than you ever admitted.”
“You’re the first person to offer me condolences about my little miracle.” Michael wiggled the fingers of his healed hand in front of him, showing the bandana wrapped around it. His face was a careful mask, but Alex had every microexpression memorized at this point, had studied him thoroughly before Michael had ever learned to keep his heart hidden.
“Guess I know you pretty well,” Alex said with a shrug.
“Guess you do.”
And after that there didn’t seem to be much left to say. Alex checked in with Kyle, then headed home to keep working until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He prayed for the peace of a dreamless sleep. For now, Alex’s heart wasn’t the one to be most worried about. He’d get over it. Or well, no, maybe he wouldn’t, but he’d get used to it. He’d gotten used to a lot worse, hadn’t he?