#mostly about liz getting little screen time and lines

[aeongy]

omg KITSCH TURNED OUT SO GOOD AAAAA such a good pre single,,,,thank you IVE

[fountainpenguin]

“I never worry- I'm fine... Sorry if expressing my feelings was a little out of line.” (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today!

Chapter 9 - “Smoke (Lizzie, Etho, Scar)”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

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Intimacy comes in many flavors. For Joel and Lizzie, that’s forcing respawns on each other. For Etho, that’s physical touch and/or double checking you installed your buddy’s breathing system right. For Bdubs? Logging out in one another’s company. SnifferMyFeet? Wearing a ring. For Grian, it might be something out of this world… and then there’s Scar, loyal Scar, with the steel chair.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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LDShadowLady

#temporary widow

💚  💛  ❤️

Lizzie might know more about how to take care of an Etho than Etho does. Etho, whose face has been slumped in his hand for the last 20 minutes (fingers pulling at his lashes, face gray and dark beneath his eyes), does not look like he’s slept in precisely four days. Nor does he look like he’s eaten anything other than Beef’s chocolate cake for a week. Both these facts are probably untrue (as Lizzie’s data is, admittedly, quite limited and biased at this time) but he looks it.

Granted, Lizzie wouldn’t dream of calling herself the local Etho expert of New Star Station when there are people like Beef, Pause, Bdubs, Tango, Impulse, and Xisuma around. However, since Joel’s still a firefly locked inside a chest, SnifferMyFeet is curled like a croissant on the end of the leather sofa, TwoMuchGrian left 40 minutes ago, and Beef is still in his bedroom with his headphones on… Yes. Lizzie feels confident in claiming the title of “most knowledgeable person in the room on Etho’s physical health and mental strain.” Possibly (though not necessarily) including Etho. Lizzie leans against the wall.

“Um. Well, don’t hesitate to inform me whether I can assist you in any matter whatsoever.”

“I’m fine.” He shifts his hand after that. Straightens up. The type of guy who’d scoff and grumble if you pointed out that he is mortal too. “It’s just… been a long day of screens.”

She touches the back of his hand in silent solidarity. Etho doesn’t jerk his away. I know, she tries to tell him. Thank you for all your hard work. 

His fingers tighten against the desk. “Liz-”

Sniff clears his throat at that exact moment. Lizzie and Etho both glance back at him. He says, “I want to go outside. Tell me the rules.”

“Outside?” Etho repeats. “For what?”

“Hunting.” Sniff bounces on his feet, vex wings flapping out. They’re spindly little things and quite frankly, Lizzie’s glad she doesn’t have any herself. If she had to trust her safety to raggedy little bits like that, she’d probably have a heart attack. “I need food… What are the rules?”

“Rules?” Etho sounds… lost.

“Yeah. Like, is it bad sportsmanship to camp a portal? And am I not allowed to sneak into anybody’s house?”

“Oh. Um… Bdubs could tell you more. Or Scar. Scar might be the more accurate resource. As for rules, I think it’s considered… extremely rude to ‘target’ someone without their consent - as in, go out of your way to look for them - but I don’t really hunt souls. I’m not exactly on the ball at keeping up with politics.”

Sniff frowns. “So, what… You don’t even hunt chicken souls?”

“I’m an omnivore. I can eat souls if I want to, but I’m not like zombies, vex, or phantoms or… what’s the last one?”

“I think drowned and husks both can.”

“-anyway. There are some hybrids who have to eat souls to refill their hunger haunches. ‘Anivore’ is the word for that, and I’m an omnivore.” Then, maybe as a joke, “So don’t get on my bad side, Sniff… because I can log you out just as easily as you can get me.”

“What about her?” Sniff asks, gesturing to Lizzie. “She’s the ‘cutest predator,’ yeah? Lizzie, do you eat souls?”

She lifts her brows. “I’m an axolotl. I like seafood, mostly. Crabs, fish, worms… Lots of insects.”

Sniff thinks about that for half a second. Then he hides behind the couch arm, staring back with squinted eyes. Oh. He may not be an endermite hybrid anymore, but she can’t blame him for the judgment. I feel a little bad about that, actually.

“I don’t eat souls,” Lizzie corrects. “I eat mob drops.”

“Oh… Okay.” Turning back to Etho, “You said the phantoms get to hunt. I’m hungry. I’m going out.” He lifts his hands as though bracing himself for a storm of words, though Etho’s fingers are still cupping his face and neither he nor Lizzie opened their mouths. “Hang on- Just-just hear me out before you say ‘No way, Sniff; it’s way too dangerous if the phantoms make line of sight;’ cry me a river, mate. If no one even knows what I look like, how can they tell I’m not supposed to be here? I’ll keep my comm in my pocket. Or- or say I just flit around out there in my weird little soul form, and I just look at the people? What then? You’re just some fox and Joel is just some firefly. No one will even know it’s me.”

“Do you know how to go into free-cam?”

That shuts Sniff up. He turns his back, tucking himself into a ball on the sofa once again. His wings twitch at his shoulder blades. Lizzie looks back at Etho, but his eyes are firmly off hers and focused on the screen again. She doesn’t push him into voicing whatever thought had danced inside his head.

Etho plays the keyboard on his programmer’s tablet like it’s a hundred tiny noteblocks. They spark little tick-tock noises in the air and shoot flashes of color across the screen wherever his fingers tap. Lizzie’s not sure if that’s part of its default design or simply a setting Etho toggled on for dramatic effect. She supposes he’s allowed to. Perhaps it’s the same reason Joel tags silly names on all his farming tools: Anything to make a dull job more fun.

“Mmmkay,” Etho murmurs, but it’s mostly to himself. Some of what he does it a little copy and paste. He’s pulling from what’s left of Joel’s code. He’s pulling from Sniff. Maybe a little from Two. Maybe a little from his own head. He clicks his tongue and mumbles here and there.

But for the most part, Etho works in silence- only checking with Lizzie on occasion when he runs into something he hasn’t memorized. Mostly, that means his will o’ the wisp traits. Makes sense. Joel didn’t have his antennae, his swamp gas wings, or his poofing ability active on-server during Double Life, where he and Etho were partnered up as soulmates.

After a few struggled attempts though, Etho deletes his drafts, shaking his head. “I… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to write an entire mod for him from scratch. I’ll just bring him back as a firefly, make a few tweaks, check to confirm everything’s working fine… and then he can mod the wisp stuff in if he wants to. Later.”

Those last words hang between them like a crooked painting on the wall. With what record of the code?

Maybe Joel keeps a copy of his mods. He’s supposed to. But then, he’s supposed to do a lot of things.

“I don’t think Joel would mind if-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” says Etho, swiveling his chair. His voice is steady, but he shakes his head. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Well, that’s one way of talking yourself down. I think I have exactly the right amount of faith, thank you very much.”

Etho taps a few more keys. “Maybe another day, then… When I can talk to Joel. He might remember things. It’s his body. I’m just borrowing it.”

Silence.

“Snrk.”

“I heard it when I said it,” he gripes, and shoves her from his shoulder.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[warningsine]

In the second-season premiere of GLOW, which hit Netflix June 29, Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie) surprises her boss, frustrated filmmaker and wrestling-show director Sam Sylvia (Marc Maron), with a dinky promo she filmed at a local mall during a free afternoon. The assembled wrestlers love it, as does network rep Glen (Andrew Friedman). But Sam doesn’t. He yells at his employees, who are all young women: “Who here is confused about who the director is? Really? No one is confused? Because I’m fucking confused.” When Ruth attempts to shield the others from responsibility, he directs his ire at her. “Are you making a move on my job, Ruth? . . . Honey, I don’t need your help. I need you to be a fucking actress . . . You’re not a director just 'cause you take a fucking camera to the mall."

When Reggie (Marianna Palka) interrupts to defend Ruth’s work—and points out that time in the Season 1 finale when Ruth covered for Sam—he immediately, inexplicably fires her. Ruth follows him to his office, and tries to talk him out of the decision. “I had ideas,” she says defensively. “O.K., well, put ’em in your diary,” he responds. “You’re all replaceable. Even you, Ruth.”

Throughout all of this, Maron is fantastic in the role of Sam. His character is a frustrating and frustrated creative leader, well-intentioned but constantly angry, obsessed with his own narrative of failure. Maron’s performance is magnetic; it’s as if every scene bends toward his all-too-period-appropriate aviators and his Burt Reynolds mustache.

In fact, he’s so good as the show-within-a-show’s demanding, exploitative creative lead that he might just be GLOW’s stealth protagonist—which is a problem, because GLOW, created by showrunners Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch and executive produced by Jenji Kohan, is supposed to be an ensemble comedy about a diverse group of women. Brie frequently uses the word “empowering” to describe the show and its ethos; recently, she called GLOW a “feminist oasis”. In Season 1, it was: Ruth, a protagonist who became a heel (wrestling jargon for “villain”), was an unexpected kind of female character—an unlikeable heroine discovering her talents and herself through an athletic, muscle-bound medium. The show’s premise offered its characters some combination of grit and glitter as a means to liberate themselves from the prison of oppressive history—a cathartic, rare feat, still, for women on television.

In its second season, though, the show never quite seems to know who it’s about. There is hardly a plot to be found; wrestling is no longer in the foreground, and what wrestling we do see lacks the convincing stunts or arresting ugliness of the genre. That cadre of diverse women is mostly shunted to the background as well—Ellen Wong and Britney Young get little screen time; Sunita Mani and Sydelle Noel have more material, but their stories still feel marginal. And they rarely, if ever, interact with the lead performers. (That these actresses all play characters whose wrestling personas are racist stereotypes does not help the overall effect.) Instead, the show ends up focusing on easier stories: material about the white male billionaire Bash Howard (Chris Lowell), for example, and Sam’s evolving relationship with his daughter Justine (Britt Baron). The family plot is an opportunity for Maron to play Sam as an abrasive, gruff, good-hearted dad with an unconventional but perceptive parenting style. Both Bash’s and Sam’s story lines are fine, but they take up precious space—and have nothing to do with wrestling or women.

Perhaps this shift wouldn’t rankle quite so much if Sam weren’t such an unrepentant asshole, specifically toward women. After dressing down Ruth in the premiere, Sam spends the next several episodes punishing her—alternating between refusing to give her airtime and giving her the worst spots in the show, and eventually doing what he can to sabotage her flirtation with the new cameraman, Russell (Victor Quinaz). Five episodes later, he apologizes, after Ruth attends a screening for one of his long-forgotten films—an action that essentially reinforces his superiority as a director.

She sits a few rows behind him, wreathed in apologetic smiles. He disdains her careful management of his feelings, calling it “creepy.” Eventually he apologizes—if one can call this an apology: “I’m not angry with you. I’m an insecure old man. I get defensive. Sue me.” Three episodes after that, Sam tries to kiss Ruth.

The show has no trouble casting Ruth as the creative punching bag for Sam’s on-set tantrums, the subject of endless put-downs about her looks and personality. Ruth and Sam appear to be engaged in an abusive dynamic, but GLOW doesn’t quite seem to know that, or care. Worst of all, in its second season, the show trades Ruth’s dignity for Sam’s interiority; by the end, our supposed lead has almost no substance to her character, aside from her constant, painful drive to matter. Brie throws her all into that aspect, but there’s no masking that Season 2 of GLOW has become a show where Ruth Wilder waits for Sam to do something mean to her, before quietly picking up the pieces.

In the show’s defense, there is a subtler story being told here. Ruth’s victim complex is activated by both Sam and Debbie (Betty Gilpin), her former best friend; she’s primed to fall into a relationship where she's taken advantage of. If the show is purposefully trying to explore how Ruth keeps falling into gendered traps, there’s value to that story—especially if its gentle rendering indicates how insidious these complexes can be.

GLOW nods toward this interpretation most obviously in the fifth episode, "Perverts Are People, Too," which we might as well call its #MeToo episode. In it, Ruth takes a business meeting, only to find herself targeted by a studio executive hoping for some flirty “fun” in his Jacuzzi bath. She flees, terrified, before realizing that this experience reflects the dynamics of her industry more broadly; the episode ends with a subtle, profound moment in which Ruth, surveying the male fans crowding around her co-workers, is forced to reckon with an existence built on female theatrics for male consumption.

But Ruth’s journey is separate from Sam’s, and what’s perplexing about the sexual harassment episode is how a plot point designed to critique the patriarchy ends up mainly serving to paint Sam as a good guy. Two episodes later—during the screening, right after Sam’s non-apology—Ruth tells her boss what happened to her. He emotes more than she does: “Fuck that guy! What a fucking sleazebag dickhead!” By the end of the season, Sam has been reborn as both a benign but curmudgeonly white knight whose fondness for strip clubs ends up delivering the team to a much-needed gig in Las Vegas, and a good dad who finds a new way to understand and communicate with his newfound daughter.

But while Sam’s being offered up as the moral guy, the I’d-never-harass-an-employee guy, he already has harassed his employees. He’s tried to kiss multiple women who work for him; he’s withheld advancement from Ruth out of petulance; he ignores Debbie as nothing more than a pretty face when she tries to assert her role as a producer. Maron himself has admitted Sam’s complicity to Deadline: “Can this guy be an asshole? Yes. Was he a guy that was possibly guilty of transgressing in the way of the casting couch, or showing favor to women professionally for sexual attention? Probably. I think that’s sort of established at the beginning. This guy’s no saint, but he also shows up for these women.”

In a way, the suggestion that Sam’s not that bad reveals something significant about the insidious reach of the patriarchy: you can be the guy who knows what bad behavior looks like, and still be complicit in it. It makes sense that Ruth is too naive to see this, and even that Sam’s too deluded to admit it. But it doesn’t make sense that in a season driven partially by a harassment story line—as part of a show ostensibly about women’s empowerment—GLOW would avoid acknowledging Sam’s previous behavior, to the point of failing to honestly reckon with his flaws. Hints of that reckoning are present: it’s significant, if opaque, that Ruth realizes falling for Sam is a bad idea, and instead throws herself into the arms of age-appropriate, respectful Russell. But diminishing her story to the status of background noise—while building up Sam’s backstory and screen time—is an astonishing disservice, both to GLOW’s characters and audience.

In the very first episode of GLOW, Ruth’s terrible, desperate audition for the titular wrestling show becomes sublime—and successful—when Debbie walks in, clutching her infant, screaming obscenities because she’s discovered that Ruth slept with Debbie’s husband. Debbie hands off her baby and steps into the ring; Ruth’s mimicry of aggression turns into a frantic, failed attempt at de-escalation. Debbie slaps her full in the face, and eventually pins Ruth to the ground; a smear of blood disfigures Ruth’s face. On the sidelines, the girl who will eventually become Fortune Cookie (Wong) asks, “Is this real?” The girl who will become Melrose (Jackie Tohn) shrugs: “Who the fuck cares?”

This might be a more prophetic line than GLOW intended. The show tends to skim the surface of its heavy subtext, and is quick to turn drama into a punch line, regardless of where the drama comes from or at whose expense the comedy hits. The show wants to nimbly engage with this stuff, and sometimes it’s able to. But either GLOW can’t see itself clearly, or it’s not communicating well what it’s trying to be about. Take that pilot scene: as Debbie and Ruth fight, GLOW superimposes what Sam wants to see, or what he thinks he can make happen, over their very real angst. In his vision, which is shot as a fantasy wrestling sequence, Debbie thrusts her crotch into Ruth’s face, and gyrates her spandex-covered behind in a slow circle for the audience’s benefit. By the time Sam snaps out of his reverie, the fight is over; he, and the viewer, have missed much of the real conflict in order to look at the manufactured version.

Similarly, in spending so much time inside Sam’s mind, GLOW is missing out on the stories right under Sam’s nose. They’re there—if he, and the show, would care to look.

[loveisalwaystheanswer]

Whats your take on lizzie and tommy when lizzie says "Do you feel anything? You talk as if you're watching everything on a screen"?

I dislike it when lizzie is smirking at jessie as if lizzie won....when in reality jessie got respected by the other ladies of the workforce while lizzie had to cry and whine to get tommys attention

Hello, anon!

Basically it was made to show us Tommy's state of mind. Not Lizzie's feelings about it. Because these words don't obligate Tommy to do anything about his situation. It was said as a fact. It tells us he's in his deepest depression (I'm talking about clinical depression of course). He almost killed himself, he pulled the trigger, he fuckin wanted to die. But the opportunity was stolen from him. So is there any surprise he doesn't feel anything or he's not in present?Nothing had changed for good since then. This line needed to be said, so they picked Lizzie to deliver it to us. And Lizzie was living with him and saw him acting like this. So his condition couldn't have been a surprise for her.

And I'm pretty sure it echoes his dialogue with Ada: “Where are you Tom? My big brother? You know you used to stop sometimes and laugh. Do you even remember this place?”, he responds "But I'm alive, Ada" and after that goes Ada's (and mine too) bitter and ironic "Yeah" said mostly to herself than to Tommy. And I'm so pissed about it! Because it took them about 9 fucking years (and 2 whole seasons to us) to see the difference and say something about it? Seriously?! Does anybody have any ideas why he doesn't laugh anymore? Since when he's so unhappy? Thoughts?? Tommy is dead inside since GRACE'S death and he didn't laugh since then either. Ta-daa! But we didn't hear anyone saying ANYTHING about the impact of Grace's death on Tommy. Nobody. Ever. Talked. About it. Never. And this is not about someone talking to Tommy, he's not talkative at all, especially about Grace, but none of the family members had ever discussed it among themselves. Didn't fans deserve to hear one line about how important she was to him? To honour her memory? A little bit? Yes, Ada we remember these times. *arghh* I need to stop myself.

I agree with you, anon! This victorious catty Lizzie's look at Jessie just made me laugh out loud. It says "i'm sooo good he chose me and you're left with nothing gaaaal so you can fuck off he's mine and I pity you byyyeee" because Liz sees Tommy as the biggest prize of her life (lol, no). But the truth is that Lizzie is the only one here to be pitied. And I feel sorry for Jessie, she didn't deserve such attitude. But she got lucky to escape Tommy. And Tommy's a dick btw. Lizzie should have said "bye bye Tommy, go to hell" a long time ago. Back then when he let her be raped by Field Marshal and back then when Shelbys killed her lover. But apparently SK didn't want to give her some dignity and self-respect. Instead he made her Lizzie-finally-Shelby who's desperately trying to make Tommy love her and living in a continuing delusion that everything is ok. And only after Ruby's death her wall of denial had came down. I breathed a sigh of relief when she finally found the strength to leave him. It took so long.

thank you xx

[prouvaireafterdark]

We’ll Let the Flame Burn Once Again - a 3x07 Coda

My take on 3x08, with 100% more bed sharing, love confessions, and blow jobs than I’m sure canon will give us tomorrow.

Also on AO3!

***

Alex is halfway through the file on the Lockhart Machine when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Michael’s name flashes across the screen like an accusation when he digs it out of his coat.

“Fuck,” Alex sighs. He’d been so preoccupied with being kidnapped and faced with a life-changing career dilemma he’d completely forgotten that he’d never returned Michael’s voicemail or given anyone an update on the Kyle situation.

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, I—” Alex starts when he answers the phone, but Michael cuts him off. 

“Are you home?” Michael asks sharply. He sounds panicked and out of breath, like he’s just been running for his life.

“Uh, no,” Alex answers. “Why, what’s wrong?”

The laugh Michael lets out is strangled and more than a little hysterical. “Better question would be what isn’t, but I’ll give you the cliff notes: Jones took over Max’s body and now he’s trying to kill us.”

“What?” Alex asks, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, and he’s also my fucking dad apparently,” Michael continues.

“What?” Alex says again. If that’s true, Alex has a few questions about where the hell those curls came from. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Michael says bitterly before he adds, all in a rush, “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, but if he’s trying to get to me it’s only a matter of time before he goes after you and something tells me I won’t be able to build a bomb to get you back this time. You need to get somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be able to find you.”

Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t know about our history? Alex wonders. 

He looks around at the wooden beams of the abandoned barn-turned hospital room he’s currently stuck in as he replies, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t think he’ll be able to find my location.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alex assures him. If he knows Ramos half as well as he thinks he does, he’s pretty sure this building wouldn’t even show up on a map. “Where are you going to go?” 

“No fucking idea,” Michael says. “My place isn’t safe and neither is Isobel’s so maybe we’ll just find a motel for the night or something until—“

“No, don’t do that,” Alex interrupts. “He’ll probably be expecting that and with Max’s face he’ll have access to police resources. If he’s motivated enough, he’ll track you down by the end of the night.”

Michael lets out a loud sigh before he says, mostly to himself, “Fuck Max for being a fucking cop,” frustration heavy in his tone. “You got any other ideas then?”

Alex considers that for a moment before he remembers the cabin Jim left him. It’s not a top secret military bunker, but it’s remote and about as secure as they can hope for right now.

“I do, actually,” Alex says at last. “Where are you right now?”

“The hospital,” Michael answers. “Maria’s fine, Liz and I just checked on her.”

“Okay good,” he says. “He probably won’t attack you if you’re in a public place so just stay there and wait for my call, okay? There’s something I need to take care of and then I’m all yours.”

Alex cringes at his own wording, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. “Just—hurry?” 

“I will,” Alex promises. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Michael replies, and then the line goes dead.

Alex turns back to his phone screen and pulls up his contacts. He hesitates for a minute, asking himself if what he’s about to do is really the right choice.

But then he thinks of Michael and how much easier it would be to protect him with access to all of the resources and intel Deep Sky has to offer. If Jones is even half the threat he seems, Alex has a feeling he’s going to need all the help he can get.

Alex makes the call. It rings twice before he gets an answer.

“Have you made up your mind then?” Ramos asks, foregoing a greeting entirely.

“I’m in,” Alex says, projecting confidence he doesn’t quite feel. “Now do you think I can get a ride back to my car? I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Thirty minutes later, Alex leaves Kyle in Ramos’ care and hits the road. He’s careful not to speed too much—the last thing he needs is to get pulled over right now—but he’s definitely pushing it.

Alex had called Michael back while he waited impatiently for Ramos and gave him instructions on how to get to the cabin—an indirect route with minimal traffic cameras along the way. Looking at the clock on his dashboard, Alex guesses Michael will probably have already let himself in by now.

Sure enough, Michael’s pick-up truck and Isobel’s SUV are already parked outside by the time Alex pulls into the dirt path he calls a driveway. When he opens the front door, he sees a small crowd of people in his living room, all wearing various expressions of exhaustion and defeat.

Rosa has her boots propped up on the coffee table next to Michael’s hat where she sits in the armchair in the corner, her eyes trained on Liz who looks to be wearing a hole in the carpet with all of the pacing she’s doing. Michael is sitting with Isobel on the couch, her head resting heavily on his shoulder and her arms drawn tight across her chest. 

They all look up at him as he steps over the threshold, but Michael’s the first to react, his back straightening against the couch the moment he lays eyes on him.

“Alex,” he says, little louder than a whisper. Alex feels the sudden desire to pull him into his arms. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Alex says, closing the door behind him. “It’s a long story, but I found Kyle.”

“You found Kyle?” Liz asks, her eyes wide as she takes a step closer to him. “Where is he?”

“With his uncle,” he answers.

“His what?” Rosa asks at the same time Liz says, “Kyle doesn’t have an uncle.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Alex says. 

This time of night, Alex figures they could all use a pick-me-up, so he heads to the kitchen and gestures for them to follow. 

While he gets the ancient coffee pot going, he can hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor behind him as they all find a seat at the table in the middle of the room. There’s an empty seat next to Michael when he goes to sit, so he takes it, figuring it’ll be easier to stay focused on the task at hand if he doesn’t have to look directly at him.

As he sits down, he catches Michael’s eyes shifting toward the dusty bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge, but he surprises him when he doesn’t ask for it. Alex isn’t sure if that’s for Rosa’s benefit or his own, but either way he can’t help but feel a little proud of him.

They talk for what must be hours, starting with Kyle and Alex’s involvement with Deep Sky and ending with the shit show that went down with Jones tonight. It’s a lot to process, for all of them, but they do manage to come up with a plan for tomorrow. 

Michael is understandably suspicious of Deep Sky, but after Alex relays what he learned about the Lockhart Machine’s origins in Caulfield, he wants to get his hands on it. The idea of working so close to him makes Alex nervous for more reasons than one, but Michael’s right—he needs his help if he’s going to make any meaningful progress before the other shoe drops with Jones and pretending otherwise is going to get someone killed.

Liz, for her part, is eager to dive into the science to see if there’s anything she can do to help Kyle, so Alex will take her to the barn in the morning before he and Michael tackle the Lockhart Machine. 

With no leads on where Jones took Max’s body, Isobel and Rosa decide to check on Maria and see if there’s any progress they can make on freeing her from the hold Jones has on her mind. 

It’s as solid a plan as they’re capable of making with what they’ve got, so the moment Michael yawns behind the grimy bandana on his hand Alex is ready to call it a night.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight,” Alex says. He pushes back from the table and starts collecting coffee mugs to put in the sink as he continues, “There’s a guest bedroom down the hall and an extra bed in the secret bunker under the coffee table in the living room for people to crash in.”

“The what under the what?” Liz asks, bewildered.

“Alex Manes, do you have a sex dungeon in your basement?” Isobel asks, sounding intrigued and a little impressed before she grimaces suddenly and turns to Michael. “Ew, wait, did you know about this?”

Alex resolutely does not look at Michael as he sighs, “It’s not a sex dungeon.” 

He considers telling them about the room’s true intended purpose, but decides against it—there’s been enough revelations about distant fathers for one evening. 

“It’s just an extra bedroom,” he continues, before turning to Liz and Rosa. “The bed down there is big enough for two people to fit in if you guys don’t mind sharing. The bed in the guest room’s just a twin, so it’d be a tighter squeeze.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rosa shrugs, eyes on Liz as she continues, “As long as you don’t steal the covers.”

“Oh come on, that was one time when I was seven,” Liz protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Isobel interrupts their sibling banter to say, “Dibs on the guest room then. Sorry, Michael, you’re on the couch tonight.”

Michael shrugs like he expected that, but Alex stops him with a hand on his arm as he goes to walk toward the living room.

“No, take my bed,” he says. Michael’s eyes drop down to where Alex’s hand has caught his forearm and Alex lets him go. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” Michael asks, cocking his head so his curls fall into his eyes. “No, I’ll take the couch. Sleep in your own bed.”

“Michael, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch after the day you’ve had,” Alex argues. “You need a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

“And you don’t?” Michael counters. “Besides, if you sleep on that lumpy-ass couch you’re definitely going to fuck up your leg and I think we can both agree that that would be kind of a problem if Jones catches up to us.”

Alex sighs and tries to stare him down, willing him to let him do this for him, but Michael just keeps defiantly meeting his gaze.

“Oh my god, would you two shut up and just share the bed if the couch sucks that much?” Isobel asks and they both turn to look at her in shock. “It’s not like it would be the first time,” she adds under her breath.

Alex shares another look with Michael and waits a moment for him to react, to give any sign he wouldn’t be okay with that. 

All he does is shrug and say, “I’m game if you are.”

If he’s honest, Alex has no fucking idea how he’s supposed to get any sleep lying next to Michael all night—his stomach is already in knots just thinking about it—but he nods his head anyway.

“Alright,” Alex agrees. “It’s just down the hall that way, I’ll show you. Does anyone need anything to sleep in? I’ve got some spare pajamas.”

There’s a chorus of yes’s all around, so Alex heads down the hall toward his bedroom to grab some clothes with Michael not far behind him. 

“Looks, uh—nice in here,” Michael comments awkwardly as they step inside the bedroom, and Alex can’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to lie,” he says as he starts digging through the dresser for some old t-shirts and sweatpants, glad for once that he never got around to cutting down the right pant leg on them. “Besides the new sheets, this is all Jim Valenti’s old stuff.” 

“The clothes too?” Michael grimaces.

“Oh, no, these are mine,” he says as he hands Michael a bundle of clothes. “Bathroom’s through that door there if you want to shower. There should be an extra toothbrush and towels under the sink.”

Michael nods, and then scoffs when he sees the Air Force logo on the t-shirt Alex hands him. Alex rolls his eyes at him as he heads back out into the living room to distribute clothes to the rest of his guests. 

It takes some time getting everyone settled—the sheets on the other beds need to be changed and Liz and Rosa have some questions about the giant hole in the wall in the basement—but soon enough, Alex heads back to the master bedroom. When he gets there, he sees Michael standing by the far side of the bed, water weighing down his curls and a pair of Alex’s sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He isn’t wearing a shirt either, the Air Force tee Alex gave him sitting on the comforter on Alex’s side of the bed.

Alex isn’t sure if this is an act of protest against the United States Armed Forces or if Michael is simply trying to drive him insane, but either way, Alex scoops up the t-shirt on his way to the ensuite bathroom along with the emergency crutches he keeps here and another pair of sweats for himself. 

He goes through his nightly routine without issue, grateful that he’d gotten around to buying a shower chair for the cabin so he can actually wash the last few days off his skin. 

He’s expecting Michael to be asleep when he gets back, but instead he finds him sitting crosslegged in bed with the lights still on, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. Alex’s heart aches at the sight.

“Hey,” he says softly as he makes his way over to the bed. 

Michael looks up at him, an inscrutable look on his face, and waits for him to speak. 

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay because there’s nothing about today that has been okay,” Alex tells him, “but I’m here if you want to talk.”

A small smile tugs at Michael’s lips. “Thanks,” he says.  

When he doesn’t say anything else, Alex gets into bed with him, resting his crutches in the narrow space between the bed and the nightstand. Michael gets the lights with his powers, plunging the room into darkness, and Alex lies down on his back while his eyes adjust, too aware of Michael shifting in bed beside him to really let himself relax enough to sleep. 

It’s a few moments later when Michael lets out a huff that sounds a little like a laugh.

“What?” Alex asks, turning to look at him. He can just see the curve of Michael’s nose in the moonlight bleeding through the curtains.

“Nothing, I just—“ Michael starts before he sighs again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s a little ridiculous that this time last year we were dealing with your homicidal father and now we’re dealing with mine. The more things change the more they stay the same, I guess.”

Michael says it like it’s funny, but Alex feels a twinge in his chest at the thought of Michael going through what he went through last year. Feeling unsafe around your parent is a special kind of pain, one Alex knows intimately, and it’s the last thing he would have ever wanted for Michael. He’s been through enough.

 On impulse, Alex reaches across the bed for Michael’s hand. It takes some searching, but eventually he finds it resting on top of the comforter between them. He half expects Michael to pull away from him, but he threads their fingers together instead. Michael’s palm is warm against his own, his grip secure, and Alex feels his eyes begin to burn as something inside his chest settles at the touch. 

He swallows down the emotion in his throat as he tells him, “We’re gonna figure this out.” 

“You don’t know that,” Michael says, scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, I do,” Alex insists. “Jones may have crazy alien powers we can’t comprehend, but we have the Lockhart Machine. If it was your mother who built it, it could hold the key to taking him down.”

At the mention of his mother, Michael goes quiet again, and Alex watches his chest rise and fall with the deep breath he takes. 

“You really think she built it?” Michael asks at last, hesitation in his tone. 

Alex gets it—this machine, if it works like the radios the Valentis had, could have alien glass with his mother’s voice inside. It makes sense that Michael doesn’t want to get his hopes up and invite the crushing disappointment he’ll feel if it doesn’t.

Alex squeezes his hand reassuringly as he answers, “I think if there’s anyone who can find out for sure, it’s you.”

Michael is silent for another long moment, so long that Alex thinks he’s done with the conversation, before he finally asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“What do you mean?” Alex asks, taken aback by the question.

Michael shifts onto his side to look at him directly. “Yesterday you didn’t want me anywhere near what you were doing and now you’re holding my hand and telling me it’s all gonna be okay if we work together,” Michael says, lifting their joined hands off the bed for emphasis. “What’s changed?”

Alex’s throat clicks as he swallows, something like shame weighing down the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make Michael feel like he didn’t want him around or that he wasn’t useful.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologizes. “I was just scared.”

“Of what?” Michael presses.

“Of what Deep Sky would do if they found out about you,” he answers. “I knew if you kept investigating the bats, you would find Deep Sky sooner or later and I was terrified that for all their talk about changing narratives and building bridges between humans and aliens that they wouldn’t be any different than my father if they actually met one.” 

“Well, you could have told me that,” Michael says after a moment, his voice softer than the accusatory tone Alex is anticipating. “I would have understood.”

“But would you have let it go if you knew you were onto something?” Alex asks. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Michael admits, something like a smile playing at his lips. 

Alex sighs heavily, expecting the answer but no less happy at being proven right. 

“But being cagey and lying to me about what you knew didn’t make me want to let it go either,” Michael continues. 

“I know,” Alex says. “I just thought—If I didn’t try to protect you and just let you walk into something like that and you got hurt, I… I would never forgive myself.” 

Alex feels Michael’s thumb caress the back of his hand and closes his eyes at the sensation, letting it wash over him and remind him that Michael is here, that he’s safe—that he hasn’t failed him yet.

“Well, it was for nothing anyway,” Alex sighs as his eyes drift open once more. “Turns out you’re the whole reason they wanted to hire me in the first place, so—“

“Wait, what?” Michael asks, raising his head off his pillow to look at him better, and Alex curses his own sleep deprivation for letting him admit that so easily. “I thought they scouted you because of your dad.”

He swallows audibly before he answers, “That’s part of it too.” 

“But not all of it,” Michael says, not a question but a confirmation. “What, did they think they could get an alien on their side if they played the long game with you?” 

“Probably, yeah,” Alex says, hoping that’ll satisfy him.

Michael must sense that Alex is holding something back, though, because he releases his hand and sits up on the bed next to him. “Alex, what aren’t you saying?” 

Alex sighs and pushes himself up against the headboard so he and Michael are on the same level. He pulls his left leg in toward his chest protectively while Michael looks at him, his eyes intense and expectant.

Alex finds the words eventually. “Ramos wanted me to join Deep Sky because he thinks I view life differently than other people.”

“Because you already know aliens exist?” Michael guesses, his head quirked to the side.

God, is he really gonna make me say it? Alex thinks, his stomach dropping at the thought.

But then he takes in Michael’s earnest confusion, how far away the fact that Alex still loves him must be from his mind that he still doesn’t get it, and realizes they can’t keep doing this to each other—talking in riddles and euphemisms because it’s easier than being honest. That’s not who Alex wants to be anymore, and it’s certainly not what Michael deserves.

“Alex?” Michael prompts him, his voice dipping with concern, and Alex thinks, Fuck it. 

He’s already made a few major confessions tonight—what’s one more?

“Because I’m in love with one,” Alex admits at last, his heart thundering behind his ribs as he braces for Michael’s reply.

There’s a beat where Michael does nothing but stare at him blankly, the words taking a moment to register in his ears, before he asks, eyes almost comically wide, “You’re in love with me?” 

Alex laughs humorlessly, his eyes beginning to burn again as he answers, “Of course I am.”

“But I thought—you and Nazi guy—?“ Michael starts.

“Are over,” Alex finishes for him. “Forrest was nice and fun to hang out with, but he’s not you. He’ll never be you.”

A second and a year pass in the excruciating moment Michael takes to process that statement. It makes him feel raw and impossibly exposed, like Michael is holding his beating heart in his hands and Alex is begging him not to break it, but the next thing Alex knows Michael is pushing into his space and capturing his lips in a harsh and desperate kiss. 

Alex’s heart nearly bursts with relief, his leg dropping back down to the mattress. He reaches up to cup both of Michael’s cheeks to keep him close, his days-old stubble a pleasant scratch against his palms. 

Michael breathes a contented sigh against his mouth as he tilts his head for a better angle and tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out against Alex’s bottom lip. Alex opens for him without a moment’s hesitation and as soon as Michael licks into his mouth, Michael’s tongue sliding across his own, Alex feels like he’s been set on fire, the desire he’s been suppressing for over a year now flaring hot and inexorable inside of him. 

Alex wants with an intensity that almost scares him, his cock stirring against his thigh already and Michael’s barely even touched him. The feeling amplifies when Michael throws his leg over Alex’s hips and settles heavily over his lap, the solid weight and warmth of him pulling a moan from Alex’s throat.

Michael swallows the sound eagerly as he snakes his arms behind his neck, his hips shifting restlessly over Alex’s lap as he kisses him. Alex drops his hands from Michael’s face to wrap around his waist instead, pulling him closer until they’re nearly chest to chest. 

One of them has to break the kiss eventually, and as Alex gasps for air with his head tipped back against the headboard, he can see Michael looking down at him with adoration in his eyes. He takes Alex’s face in his hands and laughs, a soft, wet sound, before he kisses him soundly once more. 

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against his lips, and Alex’s grip tightens as he feels those words brush against his skin and settle in his heart.

Alex leans that little bit forward to kiss him again, slow and languid this time as the heat continues to simmer between them. Michael peels Alex’s shirt over his head and begins to rock gently against him, his ass rubbing back and forth over Alex’s growing erection with every movement of his hips. 

He can tell that Michael’s getting hard too, can feel the heat of his cock through his borrowed sweatpants. Alex removes his hand from Michael’s waist and slides it lower until he feels Michael’s happy trail peeking out above his waistband. 

He strokes his thumb over the hair there, teasing the skin at the edge of the fabric without ever dipping beneath it. Michael squirms against him with a soft, plaintive whimper when he does that, so Alex gives him what he wants, lets his hand slip lower so he can rub his palm over the hard line of Michael’s cock, relishing the way Michael moans softly into his mouth as his hips twitching closer on instinct. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” Alex pulls away to ask, his thumb rubbing a slow circle around the head of Michael’s dick through the soft fabric. 

“Are you saying you want to stop?” Michael asks him, tipping forward until their foreheads meet.

“No,” he answers.

“Then yeah,” Michael breathes, reaching down between them to cover Alex’s hand with his own. “I think we’re doing this.”

“In that case,” Alex says, “I want you in my mouth.”

“God, yeah,” Michael whispers, his cock jumping beneath Alex’s hand at the thought.

Alex gives him a hard kiss before he pulls back to say, “On your back.”

Michael climbs off of Alex’s lap without another word. He rolls over onto his back next to him, his thighs falling open to give Alex room to work with. 

Alex slips between them easily and moves in to kiss him again, once on the lips before he begins pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down his chin. He lingers at his neck, sucking a bruise into the spot underneath his jaw that he knows drives Michael fucking crazy. 

Michael rewards him with a choked-off moan, his legs spreading wider around his hips. Alex wishes he had the time—and supplies—to ruin him properly, work him open with his tongue and fingers until he’s a keening, whimpering mess before he fucks him like he deserves. For now, though, his mouth will have to do.

Alex can feel Michael’s pulse jackrabbit against his lips as he continues down the column of his throat, Michael’s hands burying themselves in his hair. He dips his tongue into the hollow of his collarbone before he slips further down his chest, cupping Michael’s pecs in his hands and squeezing just enough to get a reaction from him before his mouth latches on to one of his nipples.

He scrapes his teeth against the bud before soothing the hurt with his tongue and Michael’s breath catches in his throat again. He’s always been so sensitive, so responsive to Alex’s touch, and Alex can’t get enough of it.

When he’s teased both of his nipples to hard buds, Alex starts to move lower still, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his belly until he stops right above the waistband of his pajamas.

“Alex,” Michael moans as Alex sucks another bruise into his skin, his fingers tightening their grip on his hair. “Please.”

Alex gives one final kiss to the sharp angle of Michael’s hip bone before he sits up to pull his pants off. He drops them off the side of the bed carelessly before he settles between Michael’s legs once more, running his palms along the soft skin of his inner thighs and enjoying the way the muscle jumps beneath his fingertips.

Michael’s cock leaks against his belly, flushed and wet at the tip. Alex wastes no more time getting his mouth on him, lapping at the pool of precome shining against his skin before he takes the slick, swollen head into his mouth. He revels in the feel of it forcing his mouth wide open and moans softly at the bitter taste he catches on his tongue. 

Alex looks up at Michael through his lashes as he starts to suck him, sinking down onto his cock a little lower with every pass of his lips. Michael’s got his bottom lip caught painfully between his teeth, his eyes trained hungrily on the way his cock is slipping in and out of Alex’s mouth. 

The soft, needy whimpers Michael makes as Alex swallows around him are music to his ears, stoking the fire inside of him until the pressure in his own cock becomes unbearable. Alex grinds his hips down against the mattress for relief, but it only makes him more desperate to come. He slides one of his hands straight into his own pants and groans around Michael’s cock as he starts to fuck his fist.

It’s not much longer that Michael’s hips start to twitch against the mattress and his fingers tighten their grip on Alex’s hair. He barely gets out a warning, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” before he’s pulsing hot and wet across Alex’s tongue. Alex swallows it greedily, moaning softly as he works Michael through the rest of his orgasm and keeps chasing his own with eager, shallow thrusts. 

When Michael’s had enough, Alex pulls off of his cock and buries his face against his hip as he comes quietly over his own fist, making a mess of the inside of his underwear. He’ll probably be embarrassed about that later, but for now he’s content to come down to the feeling of Michael gently petting his hair.

“Get up here,” Michael says when he’s recovered the ability to speak, tugging lightly on the ends of Alex’s hair to get his attention. 

Alex groans as he lifts his head off Michael’s hip and maneuvers himself until he’s lying next to him again, his stump crossed over Michael’s thigh. 

“Did you—?” Michael cuts off, eyes caught on the sticky mess on Alex’s hand now that he’s pulled it free from his pants.

“Yeah,” Alex admits, a little sheepishly. 

Michael stares at his hand for a long second before he grabs his wrist and pulls his hand closer to his face. He looks Alex in the eye as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, grunting softly as he licks them clean.

“Fuck,” Alex whispers, his cock twitching in vain against his thigh at the sight and feel of Michael’s tongue sliding between his fingers.

“You missed sucking my cock that bad, huh?” Michael asks when he lets them fall from his mouth, voice low and rough as gravel as he pushes into Alex’s space, so close he can smell himself on Michael’s breath. 

Alex lets out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he answers.

Michael leans in to kiss him, quick and dirty and possessive, before he pulls back and says, “Guess I’m just gonna have to wait until the morning to return the favor then.”

“I guess so,” Alex says, hooking his clean hand around the back of Michael’s neck to bring him in for another one.

Michael kisses him back eagerly for a long moment before he pulls away. “Be right back,” he says, and climbs out of bed.

While he’s in the bathroom, Alex shimmies his dirty sweatpants and underwear off his legs and onto the floor. It’s only another minute before Michael’s back, a damp washcloth gripped between his fingers. 

It’s warm against Alex’s skin as Michael uses it to clean him up, and when they’re done they settle down for bed, Alex’s head resting on Michael’s chest and his arm thrown across his waist.

And as Alex finally closes his eyes for the night, his thoughts naturally drift to all the problems they’ll be facing tomorrow morning:

Saving Kyle. 

Freeing Maria. 

Stopping Jones. 

Unlocking the secrets of a mysterious 50 year old alien device and hopefully not going insane while trying.

But as the steady sound of Michael’s heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the loudest thought in his head is that Michael loves him. 

Whatever happens come morning, they’ll deal with it together.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

4am

the whole thing is here but its over 18k so if you would prefer to read it on ao3 i understand

It’s widely understood that when Michael Guerin has a problem he drowns it in bourbon and anonymous sex. Occasionally he might complain to Isobel Evans about it or maybe even Max Evans but mostly, his problems end up on the floor of the Wild Pony, one way or another.

Alex Manes, on the other hand, doesn’t have problems. Or if he does, he doesn’t talk about it. Everyone knows that nobody bottles up their issues quite like Alex.

What nobody understands is that no one can ignore their problems forever. Everyone needs a release. Sometimes, that release comes in alcohol, sometimes in hitting something or someone and letting them hit you in return, sometimes even in the bliss of a stranger’s company. And sometimes it comes in the form of a late night phone call and quiet secrets and shared traumas. 

No one understands and that’s exactly the way they like it.

---

He’d turned the ringer up loud earlier in the day to make sure he didn’t miss a phone call or a text and Alex was sorely regretting that now.

The sharp ring woke him from a light sleep and Alex snatched the phone off the bedside table and answered the call before it could wake anyone else up. He didn’t even have time to look at the Caller ID.

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing on the other end was his only answer. Alex twisted his wrist to check the time. 3:12am

“I can’t hold a guitar.” Alex collapsed in on himself at the husky voice. It sounded like the other man had been crying. Or maybe screaming.

“Guerin?” He let out a breath. “Are you okay?” He hadn’t seen Michael since his father had dragged him out of the shed the previous afternoon. By the time Alex could sneak back out there, the place was empty and all of Michael’s things were gone. “That’s a stupid question. Did you go to the hospital?”

“No insurance.”

“You’re a minor, the state should cover you,” Alex told him with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever if what he was saying was actually true. If Michael believed it at least he might go see a doctor and worry about the bills later. 

Michael laughed. It was a harsh, broken thing and he stopped suddenly after a few seconds. “And when they ask me what happened? Am I supposed to tell them the resident war hero smashed it with his hammer because he caught me with his son?”

Alex closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just wanted Michael to be okay. “Guerin-”

“I tried to pick up my guitar,” Michael cut him off. “I can’t even fucking hold it. My hand won’t- it won’t grip.” Alex felt tears sting the back of his eyelids. “I can’t play Alex.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex choked out.

“Don’t,” Michael replied forcefully. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s a monster. Doesn’t make it your fault.”

Alex pulled his knees up to his chin and pressed his forehead to his leg. His phone creaked from how tightly he was squeezing it. He didn’t know what to say.

Michael was silent on the other end of the line. If it hadn’t been for his harsh breaths, Alex might have thought he’d hung up.

“Rosa’s dead,” Alex said suddenly. He hadn’t meant to say it but the words were on the tip of his tongue. Michael was quiet. “She- she’s dead. How- god, Michael, Liz called this morning and I couldn’t even process it. I hadn’t heard from you since my dad- and I just wanted to know you were okay and I couldn’t process that my friend is- she’s gone, Guerin.” Alex lost the battle against the tears, one he hadn’t realized he’d been fighting for hours now, and they streamed hot and heavy down his face. They burned on his cheeks but he made no moves to brush them away. There was no one here to see them anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Michael sounded so earnest, like he truly meant it and wasn’t just saying that to be polite, it soothed something in him. Just a little.

“She was going to California,” Alex confessed. “We talked about me coming with her after graduation. Maybe go to LA. I could play music and we’d get a crappy little apartment and bug Liz and Maria to come visit us.” Alex sniffed. “We were supposed to leave. Leave and be happy. Away from here.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said again. It was quiet for a while. “You can still leave, Alex. You can go to California and make music. You don’t have to stay here, not with him.”

“What about you?” Alex asked quietly.

Michael’s breath hitched. “What about me?”

“Would you want to make music?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask him to come with him if he left, not yet. It was too soon.

Michael huffed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Did.” He let out a pained groan and hissed curse. Alex got the idea that he might have tried to move his hand. “You know, I always kind of thought of starting a dad band? Find someone to make music with, have a couple of kids, jam out in the garage instead of doing homework kind of thing.” And now he can’t even hold a guitar. Because of Alex and his dad. 

Alex swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That sounds pretty great,” he admitted quietly.

“Yeah?”

Neither of them pointed out that it was a lot less likely to happen now. “Yeah. You could pick up the triangle. Or maybe a cowbell.” 

“Hey now no need to be mean.” But Michael laughed. 

Alex smiled even though the tears hadn’t quite stopped. “You’d be great at it.”

“I’d be awesome. Don’t sell me short.”

“I could never,” Alex promised. The air sobered between them. “Michael. You’ll play again someday. I promise.”

Michael didn’t reply right away. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The line went dead.

---

The phone hitting him in the face woke him long before the ringing would have. Michael jerked away from the impact, his eyes blinking open blearily.

“It’s for you,” the girl next to him muttered. “Shut it up.” Michael didn’t remember her name.

He grabbed the phone fully intending to turn it off when he saw the name flashing. He answered it just as it was going to voicemail. “Hold on,” he mumbled. Without waiting to hear a response, he rolled over the girl on his tiny bunk and fell to the floor with a crash. Cursing and rubbing his elbow, he grabbed his boxers from the floor and fled his new Airstream. “Alex?” Alex’s reply was lost when he dropped the phone trying to pull his boxers on.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambling to grab it. “Alex?” 

“Guerin?” Alex almost sounded amused which was good. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. You?” He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. 3:52am. “Shit, it’s late.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He didn’t say anything else.

Michael dropped heavily into one of his new lawn chairs. Well, it was new to him. What was that old saying? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure? “How’s Basic?”

The line was silent before Michael heard a whoosh of air as Alex exhaled loudly. “It’s shit.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I could’ve told you that.”

“Don’t,” Alex said, not pleading or scolding, just simply. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed. He didn’t want Alex to hang up. It was the first time they’d spoken since Alex left and he didn’t know when or if Alex would call again. 

“They- fuck,” Michael heard a thud. “They have expectations.”

“Who?”

“Everyone!” Alex shifted. “They all know my dad. And the guy in charge here was an old buddy of my grandfather’s.” Michael didn’t know what to say. “They all expect me to be them. And I don’t- I don’t know if I know how not to be.”

“You’re not them, Alex,” Michael reminded him.

“I wasn’t,” Alex agreed. “Out there when I could dress how I wanted and act like I wanted and do what I wanted. But here? Here there’s no me, it’s just- it’s just the military and the way you have to act to be military and I see my dad and my grandfather and my brothers everywhere I look and I don’t want to be them, Guerin!”

“You’re not,” Michael assured him. “You’re not them and unless they do some serious brainwashing and maybe a personality transplant over there, you’re not going to be, okay? You’re Alex. Not Jesse, not Clay, or Flint, or Greg. You’re Alex.” 

Alex was quiet. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Where are you?”

“Basic training,” Alex replied immediately.

“Alex,” Michael groaned. It was like pulling teeth sometimes.

“Uh,” Alex hesitated. “In a supply closet in the communications building.”

Michael raised an eyebrow even if Alex couldn’t see it. “Why?”

“Because they lock up our phones except for pre-approved usage times.”

Michael double checked his phone but it definitely said Alex’s name. “You’re on your phone now.”

“Well yeah, I couldn’t remember your number so I broke in and stole it.” He said it like it was nothing.

“Alex,” Michael laughed.

“What?” Alex said defensively.

“Would anyone else in your family break into a military facility to steal their phone to make a middle of the night phone call to their-” Michael stopped short of labeling himself anything in relation to Alex. “No way,” he continued. “They wouldn’t dare.”

Alex hummed consideringly. Michael heard a loud noise on the other end. “Shit,” Alex hissed quietly. “There’s a patrol. I gotta go.”

The line went dead. Michael stared at his phone as the call ended and the screen went black. After a while he realized Alex wasn’t going to call back so he trudged back inside the trailer only to freeze at the sight of the naked girl in his bed. He’d completely forgotten about her and after talking to Alex the thought of getting back in bed next to her only made his skin crawl. He fished some sweats out of the closet and went back outside to sleep in his truck.

---

Michael’s hands were shaking as he listened to the phone ring. It had been a while since they’d spoken, longer since they’d seen each other in person, but there was only one person Michael could even think of calling.

The call connected to a loud burst of music and a shouted, “hold on!” Already, Michael’s hands were steadier.

He waited as the noises faded and the world quieted. “Guerin?” Alex asked, a little breathless.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice smaller than he’d like.

Alex didn’t ask what was wrong or why he was calling. He just waited.

“I needed you to answer,” Michael confessed into the silence. “I needed- I don’t know. I just-”

There was a shout of, “Manes! You coming back?”, and Michael’s heart started to race until Alex replied. “I’m heading out! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, Manes, that guy was hot!” Michael closed his eyes.

Alex laughed. “Not hot enough.” There was a long pause as the world got quiet on Alex’s end. First the voices disappeared and then the music cut off with the loud slam of a heavy door. “Guerin?”

“Sorry for ruining your night.” It was after 3am and Michael had been fully prepared to wake Alex up. He wasn’t prepared to catch Alex out on a date.

“You didn’t,” Alex assured him. A car door opened and then closed. 

Michael didn’t know what to say. The more he thought about why he’d called, why he’d needed Alex to answer, the stupider he felt. But he also couldn’t hang up so he just sat there, phone pressed tight against his ear hoping Alex didn’t hang up.

Alex didn’t hang up. After a while he started humming under his breath. It was too faint for Michael to make out the song but it was a pleasant reminder that Alex was still there.

“I need to drive home,” Alex said after a while. “Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”

Michael should probably just end the call and let him drive but, “that’s fine.” A second later, Alex’s car turned on and his music started playing briefly before Alex turned it off and continued humming. Michael listened to the sounds of Alex driving and let it lull him half to sleep. He heard the engine shut off and the car door open and close followed by the house door open and close and still neither of them said a word.

Michael listened as Alex got changed for bed and he heard the quiet sigh as Alex slipped under the covers. “Late night.”

“Long week,” Alex countered. He started humming again.

“What is that?”

Alex hesitated. “It’s nothing. Just something I was playing around with the other day.”

“You’re writing?” Michael smiled. Alex had always wanted to write his own music. 

“Trying to. Sometimes.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

The humming started again and this time Michael recognized it, realizing that Alex was humming the same part over and over again. He tried to join in. 

Alex let him for a few notes before he started laughing. “Hey!” Michael scolded half heartedly. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah you are,” Alex laughed.

“Hmph,” Michael grumbled. “Well compared to you everyone’s terrible.”

“You’re biased,” Alex accused lightly, his voice barely above a mumble.

“Yeah I am,” Michael agreed. “Night, Alex. Thanks for answering.”

“Always.”

---

Alex paced the parking lot, his phone in his hands. He kept turning it over and over, not pausing long enough to actual call anyone. 

He knew who he was going to call, that was never a question. This was how it went. He called, the other answered, they talked or didn’t talk depending on the night, and then they never spoke about it again. Middle of the night phone calls were sacred. No matter how long it had been or what had been last said in the daylight, if the phone rang in the middle of the night, it got answered. 

Which meant Alex had to wait. It was just past two in the morning now. By any rational person’s clock that was late. Hell, Alex was normally asleep by 10 o’clock so this was extremely late. He just wasn’t sure if it was late enough to count as a middle of the night call. He needed it to not be a regular call.

Alex didn’t stop moving for the next 30 minutes. He covered the parking lot four times over and nearly dropped his phone twice because he couldn’t stop playing with it. When it was almost three (2:41am but he’s rounding up) he pressed Call.

“One second,” Michael answered gruffly after six rings. There was another voice muffled in the background. Whoever it was did not sound happy that Michael had answered the phone. 

Alex bounced on his toes lightly and waited as Michael made his excuses to his hookup of the night.

“Okay,” Michael said after a moment.

“I kissed my squadmate,” Alex blurted out. “Well, I kissed him and then he sucked me off. In my commanding officer’s office. And we got caught.”

Silence. “Are you getting discharged?” Trust Michael to skip past the awkwardness for once and cut straight to the point.

“I don’t know.” Which was part of the problem.

“Isn’t it against the military’s rules to be gay?” Alex heard the creak of Michael’s truck door opening and then the slam of it closing.

“Yes. Kinda. Not really? It’s complicated.” Alex started pacing.

“Yeah, I’m a little drunk so you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“DADT got repealed. Today. Or yesterday, I suppose.”

“So you’re not getting kicked out?”

“I don’t know.” Michael waited. “It happened two days ago. They hadn’t actually filed any charges against us to start the discharge process. And now with DADT being repealed it’s all up in the air. Because the ‘offense’ happened before the repeal and also because they don’t know if the repeal goes into effect immediately or if there’s a delay or what that means for us.” Alex stopped and squatted on a curb.

Michael didn’t say anything right away and so Alex waited. “Alex, did you get caught on purpose?”

Alex closed his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Alex…”

“Can you imagine my dad’s face if his son was dishonorably discharged for engaging in homosexual activity?” Alex could. He’d pictured it many a time. “It would be on record. He’d have to acknowledge it.”

“So you’re going to throw your life away? To piss off your dad?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s the Air Force, not my life.”

“It’s a dishonorable discharge,” Michael corrected. He sounded remarkably sober for a guy who claimed to be drunk. “That kind of thing sticks with you.”

“I know.” Because he did know. He just wasn’t sure he cared all that much.

Michael huffed. “So now what?”

“I don’t know. They could go either way. Hell, they could wait to decide what to do and just leave us in limbo for now.”

“Why now?”

Alex dropped his head to his knees. This was the part he hadn’t wanted to admit to. “I’m being deployed next week.”

“Shit, Alex.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. Not wanting to go to war does not make you a coward. It means you have a brain and some semblance of self preservation.”

“I joined the military, Guerin,” Alex reminded him. “I knew what that meant. But now that it’s here…”

“You’re going to be fine, Alex.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes I do. Because you’re not allowed to not be fine.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “Not allowed huh?”

“No. I checked the rule book. You have to come home, safe and sound.”

“Yeah okay,” Alex sighed.

Michael let the silence linger before, “was he good at least? Like, worth getting kicked out of the military good?”

Alex smirked. “I’ve had better.”

He heard the slow lazy smile that spread across Michael’s lips, the smugness just oozing through the phone. “Yeah you have.”

---

Alex’s voice was a sleepy mumble when he finally answered. “Guerin?” 

“Hey,” Michael greeted softly. It was late, even for this kind of call. Hell, Alex would probably be needing to get up for the day soon at this point.

Bed sheets rustled as Alex shifted in bed. He waited for Michael to speak first. When he didn’t, he started humming, as had become his habit.

Michael let him for a little while, his eyes closed as he listened to Alex try out different notes. He’d been working on the same tune for years at this point but Michael never tired of hearing it. “Alex?”

Alex stopped humming with an inquisitive noise.

“Am I really that bad of a person?”

“You’re not a bad person at all,” Alex told him. His voice was still slightly rough with sleep and for the first time Michael felt bad for calling him. Alex had clearly needed the rest. “You’re an idiot sometimes and you make terrible life decisions but you’re not a bad person.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If you want me to lie, call me when I’m awake,” Alex grumbled. They both knew Michael wouldn’t though. They didn’t talk like this when the sun was shining. If they talked at all it was inconsequential.

“Max is joining the sheriff’s department,” Michael told him. “Because of me. Because he thinks he needs to to get me out of trouble. Because I’m such a screw up that he needs to literally make a career out of cleaning up after me.”

Alex sighed. “You’re not responsible for what Max does. He’s a big boy, just like you, and he makes his own choices, okay?”

Michael waited for him to tell him he wasn’t a screw up. He didn’t.

“Guerin?”

“Yeah, okay.” Michael swallowed thickly and hoped Alex couldn’t hear it through the phone.

“What is it?” No such luck.

“You were supposed to tell me I’m not a screw up.” Alex didn’t reply right away and Michael scoffed. “Guess I should have called when you were awake.”

“You’re not a screw up,” Alex finally said. But had lost some of its meaning. “You just make bad choices sometimes.”

Michael had a sudden flashback to his truck that last summer. “Right.” He nodded even though Alex couldn’t see him. “I forgot. I’m throwing my life away.”

Alex sighed heavily. He sounded a good deal more awake now than he had. “Guerin-”

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“Gue-”

Michael hung up.

---

“Hey man, are you okay?” Richards grabbed his shoulder but Alex threw him off without a thought. He must have been rougher than he’d thought because Richards took a full step back and put his hands in the air. “Manes? Alex?”

“I’m fine,” Alex barked.

“You are not fine,” Henderson told him. Alex whirled around. He hadn’t even heard him come up behind him. Henderson also took a step back.

“Okay, fine. I’m not fine.” 

“What do you need, man?” Collins asked from behind Richards.

Alex wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened. One second he was fine and the next he was having what might be a panic attack. “I need to leave.” The guys immediately started clearing a path to the door. Alex was nearly outside before he realized what he really needed was something else. “I need my phone.”

Henderson turned on the spot. “I’ll get it.”

Collins and Richards waved Alex outside, neither one of them touching him and making sure no one else even came close. It was impressive considering how crowded the bar was tonight. 

Alex braced himself against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and sucked in slow, deep breaths. There were people walking on the street behind him but Alex blocked them out. “Here,” he heard Henderson say. Alex opened his eyes to see his cell phone in front of his face. He snatched it from Henderson with a gruff ‘thanks’ and started scrolling through his contacts. It had been a while since either of them called and their last call hadn’t ended well but Alex didn’t care. 

He ignored the fact that it was barely past midnight and hit Call. As it rang he pressed his forehead to the back of his hand, his fingers digging into the brick. The guys stood around him, not quite hovering but not leaving him alone just yet.

Alex ignored all of it and listened to the phone ring.

The dial tone cut off with a, “-uck off Max!” 

Alex sagged lightly against the wall. There was a slamming door and some more cursing before, “Alex?”

“Hi,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” They didn’t usually ask. But then again, Alex didn’t usually call this early in the night. He was suddenly acutely aware of his friends pretending not to listen in.

“Can you-” Alex cleared his throat. “Can you just-”

Thankfully, Michael didn’t need him to finish the sentence because Alex wasn’t sure that he could. He waited half a beat to make sure Alex didn’t say anything else before he was off on a tangent about something. Alex could honestly say he had no idea what Michael was talking about, at some points the terminology he was using went straight over his head and at others he was referencing people Alex had never met. But it honestly didn’t matter as Alex felt his panic subside and the tension leave him the longer Michael talked. 

After more than a few minutes, though it honestly could have been an hour and Alex wasn’t sure he’d have noticed, Collins came over to him. “Do you need a ride home?”

Michael stopped talking, clearly listening in.

Alex nodded. “Sorry.” They’d all come together.

“Dude,” Richards scoffed. “Don’t apologize. Place was lame anyway.” He turned and led the way to the car, Henderson on his heels. Collins lagged behind to make sure Alex was following.

“Alex?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. Can you-”

Michael hummed. “So yesterday Izzy-” Alex let the words roll right over him. He barely paid attention to where he was walking and trusted Collins to get him back to the car in one piece. 

Alex didn’t say a word the whole ride home and the others left after making sure he got into his apartment in one piece, none of them asking the questions obviously on the tips of their tongues. Alex loved them for it, just a little bit.

He listened to Michael ramble as he got ready for bed and collapsed on top of his sheets.

“I saw my dad today.”

Michael cut off mid word. 

“He- he’s visiting an old friend of his apparently.”

“I didn’t realize the devil had friends.”

“Plenty of demons in hell,” Alex said lightly. “I didn’t think he saw me but then he was out at the bar I went to tonight and he,” Alex stopped. He hadn’t even really processed it earlier, what exactly had set him off. Now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could admit it. 

He let out a shuddering breath and said nothing.

After a while, Michael started talking again and Alex fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

---

Maria grabbed the keys out of his hand even as she shoved him out the door. “Your truck will be here tomorrow,” she told him. She closed the doors behind her and watched him as he stumbled across the parking lot. “Is there someone you can call?”

Michael laughed. “At this time?” He paused. “What time is it?”

“3am,” she sighed. “Look, you can’t stay here. I can’t afford that right now.” She’d just bought the place and he knew any small problem could snowball for her right now. “I need to clean up and lock up. If you’re still here when I leave, I’m calling the Sheriff.”

She hesitated a moment, a wary eye locked on him, but eventually she went back inside. Michael didn’t miss the definitive thud of the deadbolt turning in the lock a second later.

Michael tripped twice on his way to his truck, his feet catching on the gravel. He had half a thought of using his powers to start the engine but he dismissed it, recognizing that he really was way too drunk to try and drive. Honestly, he was drunk enough that he might somehow blow the car up trying to start it with his powers. Instead, he pawed clumsily at the seats until his cell phone appeared.

Holding onto it tightly, he slammed the door and started down the road. The Wild Pony was on the opposite side of town from Sanders’ but at least he wasn’t parked out at Foster’s right now. That would have been too far.

Michael wasn’t sure at what point he’d dialed the phone but before he knew it it was ringing in his hands.

“Hey,” Alex’s tiny voice answered. Michael stopped and stared down at his name on the screen. He didn’t have a contact photo set for him; Alex wouldn’t let him take one. “Guerin?”

“Alexxx,” Michael drew out his name far longer than necessary.

Alex sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” Michael nodded firmly. “Very. Maria took my keys.”

“Where are you?”

Michael looked around. “Roswell.”

He thought Alex might have snorted. “I know that. Are you at the Pony?”

“Nope.” Michael shook his head. “She kicked me out.”

“Oookay. So where are you now?”

“Walking.”

Alex paused. “You’re walking home from the Pony? Drunk?”

Michael shrugged. “She said I couldn’t stay or she’d call the Sheriff. I don’t want to see Max’s disappointed face again. It’s a stupid face.”

“Michael,” Alex sighed. “Can you call Isobel? Have her pick you up.”

“She’s got a new boyfriend. She’d be mad if I woke her up. Says she needs her beauty sleep for him.”

“Mich-”

“You left.” Alex choked on his name when Michael cut him off. 

“I couldn’t stay.”

“No. You could,” Michael focused more on putting one foot in front of the other than on the words spilling out of his mouth. Probably a good thing because otherwise he’d never say it and he’d just have more nights like this one. “You just won’t. You never will. But I know that. I’m good for a fuck but not to stay over. Whatever.”

“Guerin-”

“You left.” He’d gotten to the edge of the street and he tripped over the lip of the sidewalk. The phone fell to the ground next to him and he missed Alex’s response. When he got back up, the phone was cracked but the call was still connected. “You left Roswell. Two days before you said you would. You didn’t say goodbye.” Half the reason Michael had gotten so drunk tonight was because he’d made plans for a night with Alex only to realize Alex had skipped town.

“I had to go,” Alex told him. “My friend needed me.”

“I needed you,” Michael might have whined. “You just skipped town in the middle of the night.”

Alex exhaled heavily. “I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, you always find some excuse to not be around when I leave.”

“I care,” Michael insisted. “You’re just an asshole.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”

“Where are you now?”

Michael looked up. “Crashdown.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Michael?” Michael hummed. “Keep walking.”

Michael looked down at his feet, surprised to find them stuck in place. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just take a step.” Michael did. “And again.” Michael did. Slowly, leaning more heavily on the buildings he passed, he got to the end of the strip.

At some point he started narrating his journey. After a while Alex started giving him directions like he didn’t know how to get home, like Alex knew the way better than he did. Michael didn’t argue with him, though, just kept talking as he walked until eventually he crashed into the locked gate at Sanders’. Michael picked the lock without thinking about it. He’d lost the key Sanders gave him a long time ago and using his powers on the lock was an old habit. 

“You home?” Alex asked. Michael was sure he’d been talking this whole time but he must have missed some of it.

“Mhmm,” Michael agreed as he trudged up the steps of his trailer. He almost dropped the phone as he fell onto his bunk.

“Good night, Guerin.”

---

Alex couldn’t sleep. His body was thrumming with something like excitement. Or maybe anxiety. He didn’t know.

The news broke that morning and it was all Alex could think about all day. Every time he thought he’d finally got it out of his head, someone or something would remind him and he’d be lost to it again.

He had to be up in three hours, had to be at work in less than four, and yet he had hardly even closed his eyes.

Alex fought with himself for a few more minutes before giving it up and getting out of bed to get his phone. It was across the room so he unplugged it from the charger and carried it outside with him. Sometimes, he’d scroll through his contacts and fool himself that there was someone else he might call but tonight he didn’t bother with the pretense; he went straight to Michael’s name and hit call.

Michael answered immediately, almost like he’d been waiting for Alex.

“They did it,” he greeted.

Alex felt himself smile. “Yeah.” It was nearly reverent. “They actually did it.” Michael laughed and a second later Alex joined in. He leaned back and stared up at the stars. “They really did it.” 

They sat quietly for a while, just listening to each other breathe. 

“Run that dad band idea by me again?” Alex had no idea what had possessed him to say it. They never mentioned these phone calls, never, and it had been years since Michael brought it up.

Michael made a strange noise. “Couple of kids, crappy family garage band instead of doing homework?”

“Yeah that.”

“First step is finding someone you can make music with.”

“And marrying them,” Alex smiled. “I can do that now.” As of this morning, he could marry any guy he wanted, anywhere he wanted. 

“Yeah, Alex. You can do that now.”

Alex closed his eyes. “Might need to find me a mean triangle player.”

Michael paused and Alex wondered if he’d gone too far. “No cowbell?”

“Eh,” he sighed in relief. “You can always use more cowbell. Could need a guy who can do both.”

“Steep requirement.”

“Well, I could never marry just anyone.” He laughed. “Gotta have standards, you know.”

“Only the very best for Alex Manes,” Michael agreed.

“And for Michael Guerin.”

“Sure.” 

Alex opened his mouth to reply when another voice beat him to it. “Are you coming back? Or should I go?”

Michael audibly wavered so Alex made the choice for him. “It’s late. I need to sleep.”

“Alex-”

“He sounds hot.” He hung up.

---

Isobel was going to be fine. A few bumps and bruises, possibly a concussion if she actually got checked out at the hospital, but otherwise she was fine. As far as car accidents go, it was nothing, especially considering the state of her car.

Michael had just had time to push the oncoming car just slightly to the side before it hit Isobel head on and the adrenaline rush from using his powers publicly and being scared to death that Isobel almost died was starting to wear off.

“Michael, I’m fine,” she insisted. Noah hovered in the open front door behind her but Isobel ignored him. “Really. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Michael looked at her, surprised. “Why would you be worried about me? You’re the one who almost died not an hour ago.”

“Yeah but you’re the one who,” she stepped closer and lowered her voice, “decided to use his powers in public.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It was Main St at midnight, hardly town square in the middle of the day.”

“Still,” she insisted. “You’ve been antsy ever since and you keep asking me if I’m okay and-”

“That’s because you almost died!” He reminded her.

“But I didn’t!” She put her hands on his shoulders. “You saved me. You did good, okay? So take a deep breath and relax. You’re starting to stress me out with how stressed you are.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“Well you’re something.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Behind Isobel’s head he saw Noah start to pace, his eyes locked on Isobel. “Your boy toy’s getting antsy. You should do something about that.”

Isobel looked over her shoulder and smiled before focusing back on Michael. “You should stay. Crash in the guest room.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m going home.”

Isobel eyed him. “Is home code for the Wild Pony?”

“No, home’s code for my shitty little Airstream,” Michael rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think you should be drinking tonight. You’ve already used your powers once-”

“Good night, Isobel.” Michael hugged her, cutting her off. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” He pushed her gently towards Noah, exchanging a nod with the man, and drove off.

He didn’t go home. He also didn’t go to the Pony. 

Michael parked his truck by the Crashdown and scurried across the street to the shuttered UFO Emporium and broke the lock. He slipped inside, careful to shut the door behind him, and navigated blindly through the rooms until he got to the room with the tacky glow in the dark stars painted on the wall.

He sat on the floor, sucked down half a bottle of acetone, and called Alex.

“Hmm?” Alex answered sleepily.

“Who would pay money for a dump like this?” 

“Hmm?” Alex asked, slightly less sleepily.

Michael leaned back slowly until he was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. There were more ‘stars’ up there but some of them were stuck on and were falling down. “They couldn’t even be bothered with halfway decent stars.”

“Guerin,” Alex grumbled. “Are you at the museum?”

“It’s terrible.”

He heard Alex roll his eyes. “It’s always been terrible.”

Michael looked around. “I don’t know. It’s not all bad. I’d even say this room’s had some amazing things happen in it.”

“Amazing, huh?”

Michael hummed in agreement. He listened to Alex shuffle around in bed and didn’t say anything for a while.

“Bad day?” Alex finally asked.

“Isobel was in an accident,” he confessed. “Other guy was drunk, just missed hitting her head on.”

“Is she okay?”

“Bumps and bruises,” Michael told him. “She was coming to pick me up. I was right there. She could’ve-”

“Hey, no, she’s fine,” Alex assured him. “I mean, come on, she’s Isobel Evans, a little thing like a car accident isn’t going to take her out.” Michael laughed.

“Nah, she’d wait for the apocalypse or something.”

“Please,” Alex scoffed. “She’d rule the apocalypse. Dare the world to try harder.”

Michael laughed until he started crying. “The guy just missed her.” He wiped at his face. “Almost took the front of her car off.”

 “But he did miss her,” Alex reminded him. “She’s okay. Say it.”

“She’s okay.”

“She’s okay.” Michael drew in a shuddering breath. He let it out just as shakily.

“She’s okay,” Alex said again, his voice calm and even.

Michael took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working. “Can you-?”

Alex started humming without any more prompting. It had become a habit over the years. When Alex called but couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about why, Michael just rambled about whatever he could think of until Alex either fell asleep or hung up. When Michael called, Alex would hum for him. Sometimes he’d recognize it as a popular song but most often, Alex would just hum. Bits of it he recognized, some lines that Alex repeated over and over, something he once said he was working on. Michael had never heard more than bits and pieces, wasn’t sure if Alex had gotten any further than that, but he’d always liked hearing it.

That was what Alex hummed for him tonight and it settled him like nothing else could.

---

“Alex,” Henderson stepped in front of him, his hands in the air in front of his chest to show he meant no harm. “You need to sleep, man.”

Alex shook his head. “I need you to move.”

Elcott touched Alex’s elbow and he jerked away from her. “Don’t.” Her eyes were sad but kind. No pity.

“Manes, it’s late. You need to be awake and alert tomorrow for your shift. You need to sleep.” 

Alex shook his head again. “Right now, what I really need, is for you to get out of my way.”

“Look, Manes, we’ve been there,” Henderson started.

Henderson was his friend. They’d been posted together for years before this deployment and they knew each other pretty well. Alex knew that Henderson understood, knew that he could talk to the man if he wanted, the problem was that he didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

Alex stared him in the eyes. He had a few inches and about 20 pounds on Alex but Alex had no doubt he could take him. After all, he had plenty of experience fighting men bigger and taller than him. “Move.”

Henderson shared a look with Elcott before sighing heavily and stepping to the side. “Try not to get caught doing something stupid, will you?”

Alex didn’t spare him a sideways glance let alone a response as he burst out into the cold night air and made a beeline for the communications building. 

Two uniformed men stood guard out front. Alex ignored them until one physically stepped in front of him. “Manes. You can’t be in here.” Lt. Walker’s eyes were kind, he knew what had happened earlier, but his tone left no room for argument. “You need to go back to the barracks.”

Alex shook his head. “I need to-”

“Personal communications are not authorized at this time, Manes, you know that.” Walker stepped in front of him, hand outstretched, but stopped shy of actually touching Alex. It was a wise choice on his part; Alex was crawling out of his skin and he had no idea how he’d react to someone’s touch right now.

“I need-” Alex’s voice cracked slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing their reactions. 

“Manes,” the other guard said, the one Alex didn’t know.

“Five minutes,” Alex pleaded. “I need five minutes.” He swallowed thickly.

Walker exchanged a look with the other man, the man shrugged and pointedly looked away, and Walker opened the door behind him. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Alex told them sincerely as he slipped inside. The place was mostly dark, all operations communications being run out of a different building and personal communications prohibited at this time of night, but Alex knew the way to the phone bank just fine. He hadn’t had occasion to use it much but every soldier stationed here knew where to find their connection to back home.

Alex didn’t bother with a chair. He grabbed the phone off the desk and curled up on the floor, his fingers dialing a familiar number without hesitation.

It rang twice before being sent to voicemail.

Alex called again. It rang once.

Alex let out a mild curse and called a third time. This time it was picked up just before it went to voicemail. “Who the hell is this?”

“Michael,” Alex exhaled. 

“Alex?” There was a loud clang like Michael had dropped something. “What time is it over there?”

There was a clock on the wall opposite him. “3:52 am,” he answered.

“What’s wrong?”

And just like that, Alex broke. He’d been holding it together all day, since 1:36 pm. Since Alex pulled the trigger and another man fell to the ground and didn’t move. 

Michael made soothing noises on the phone, a low murmur of words that Alex had no hope of understanding but that was okay for now. He just needed Michael’s voice in his ear.

“I killed someone,” he finally croaked out. “He was going to shoot us but I shot him first but it doesn’t even matter because he’s dead because of me.” Tears were falling freely but Alex didn’t notice. “I killed someone, Michael,” he whispered.

“Alex.” Michael’s voice was soft, gentle. Alex wasn’t sure he deserved it right now. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Alex closed his eyes only to be blinded with the memory of the man falling to the ground, chest covered in blood. His eyes snapped open. “I-”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Michael agreed. “But you’re alive. And your squad’s alive, right?”

“Yeah.” Every one of them had gotten back safe and sound, no injuries. “He should have gotten to go home alive too.”

“It was you or him. And I’m not sorry it was him.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I know you,” Michael’s voice was strong and sure. “And you wouldn’t have pulled that trigger unless you absolutely had to. You could never hurt anyone unprovoked. It was you or him.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure he believed Michael but he couldn’t deny the words helped. Alex didn’t say anything else and after a moment, Michael started up a running commentary on what he was doing.

“Manes.” Alex looked up to see Walker stood in the doorway. His eyes were on the hallway, respectfully not looking at Alex, but his five minutes were clearly up. Alex looked at the clock to find it read 4:12. 

He cursed lowly. “Sorry,” he said to Walker. To Michael, he said, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Try to get some sleep,” Michael asked. “You sound tired.”

Alex felt his eyes slip closed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Michael replied. “For staying alive.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that so he hung up without another word. Walker gave him another minute to pull himself together before he stuck a hand out to help him up. Alex took it gratefully. “Thank you.” He wasn’t talking about the help.

“Don’t mention it,” Walker replied. He didn’t say another word as he escorted Alex outside where Henderson was waiting. The two men exchanged a look that Alex couldn’t decipher before Henderson was ushering him back to the barracks. 

“Better?” He asked as they reached their bunks. 

Alex nodded, surprised. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good. Now get some sleep. We might get an hour at this rate.” 

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, Henderson was skipping his own precious sleep to stay up with Alex. The man just rolled his eyes and pointedly got comfy on his bunk. Alex’s lips twitched upwards as he followed suit.

---

“Sometimes I hate Isobel,” Michael opened with as soon as the call connected. It had been stewing in his head for days just begging to be let out.

Alex hesitated. “Why?”

Michael dropped his head back against the headrest and stared through his windshield at the stupid banner strung up in the middle of the main square. Congrats Graduates! 

“I could’ve had my Master’s by now,” he said. He’d done his research. Four years of undergrad followed by the two year graduate program for agricultural engineering at UNM and he’d have two degrees under his belt as of yesterday. “I should’ve had my Master’s by now.”

“And how is that Isobel’s fault, exactly?”

Michael closed his eyes, the images of Isobel’s face that night in the cave flashing in his mind. “She couldn’t handle me leaving after high school. Had a freak out or whatever.”

“...that’s why you stayed?” Alex sounded disbelieving.

“She- she did something. Something stupid,” Michael ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying it was the only reason I stayed but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a big part of it. I didn’t want her to do anything like that again. I couldn’t-” He cleared his throat. “I looked it up. UNM’s grad programs, I mean. They had the program I wanted and if I’d gone after high school I’d be done by now.”

“Apply again,” Alex urged. 

Michael shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You got a full ride the first time, you can do it again.”

Alex didn’t get it. Isobel hadn’t had any more blackouts since Rosa died but neither Michael nor Max had talked about leaving since then. Michael had no way of knowing if his leaving would just set her off again. He couldn’t take that chance. Not if he wasn’t there to shoulder the blame again. “I can’t.”

Alex exhaled loudly. “Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“You can,” Alex told him earnestly. “You’re more than smart enough, Guerin. Any school would be lucky to have you, you just have to apply.” Michael scoffed. Alex groaned. “You’re wasting your mind on that ranch, Guerin. You could do so much more.”

Michael had heard all of this before. Didn’t make it easier to hear this time. “And what if I don’t want to? What if I’m happy on the ranch?”

“If you were happy on the ranch, you wouldn’t be hating Isobel right now,” Alex pointed out.

Michael hung up on him. He ignored Alex’s call a moment later, too. 

---

Alex watched the guy leave, his clothes still haphazard from how quickly he’d pulled them on after Alex’s not so subtle hints to leave had finally registered. 

“Are you allergic to sleeping next to someone?” Henderson laughed. “They never seem to stay very long.”

Alex shot him a glare and ignored the friendly ribbing from the other two guys sitting on his couch. He was well aware of his dating habits, or lack thereof, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about them from his friends.

He lasted about five minutes before he retreated back to his bedroom. The room reeked of sweat and sex and a strange man’s cologne and Alex threw open the windows and grabbed the can of Febreze, spraying liberally all over. 

His phone sat untouched on his bedside table as he stripped the bed and tossed the soiled sheets into a corner to wash another day. It stared accusingly at him as he pulled out his clean bedding and diligently made the bed.

When the bed was made, Alex snatched his phone up, pulled the screen out of the window, and ducked outside to sit on the small roof over his front porch. He sucked in deep lungfuls of fresh air as he scrolled through his phone. After about ten minutes he gave up pretending that he wasn’t going to do what he knew he was going to do and pulled up his contacts.

Michael was number four on his most frequently contacted list. Alex thought that was actually a little low, especially recently, but he pressed Call and shimmied onto his back as the call connected.

The stars were bright tonight, the sky empty of clouds, and Alex found himself searching out the few constellations he knew as he listened to the phone ring. 

“Not actually a good time,” Michael was out of breath when he answered. Alex’s stomach clenched. They always answered each other’s calls, no matter what they were doing. If Michael was really about to hang up on him for some-

“Michael!” It had been years but Alex still recognized Max Evans’ voice, though he’d never heard it sound quite like that. “Get back here!” 

“One second! Don’t get your-”

“Michael!” And there was Isobel Evans. She sounded nearly as fed up as Max had.

Michael grumbled something at them, the phone clearly held away from his mouth. “Can I call you back in like five minutes?”

“Michael!” That was both Evans’ that time.

“Ten minutes?” Michael corrected.

Alex smothered the laugh that was bubbling in his throat. Nothing about this exchange was particularly funny. “That’s fine,” he assured Michael. It wasn’t like Alex was going anywhere.

“Thanks,” Michael sounded sincere as he hung up.

Alex stared at the dark screen for a long moment before he laid the phone on his chest and returned to stargazing. 

“Yo Manes!” The call came from inside the house. “You still up?”

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize tonight. 

It was almost twenty minutes before his phone rang and Alex answered it almost as soon as it started ringing. “So,” he greeted, dragging the word out in an obvious question.

“Don’t ask,” Michael pleaded. “I would like to forget the last half an hour ever happened.”

This time Alex did laugh. “Okay,” he agreed easily. It was easy not to push when he was a thousand miles away and the answer didn’t really matter.

“Thank you,” Michael sighed in relief. “Now. What’s up with you?”

“Not much,” Alex hedged.

Michael hummed mockingly. “Yep, of course, you’re right, you always call me at two in the morning because nothing’s up.”

“You used to let me lie to you,” Alex remarked mildly.

“I did,” Michael agreed. “I do.”

“Rough night?” 

“We’re not talking about that, remember?”

“Of course not,” Alex agreed lightly. 

They let the silence linger for a while before Michael sighed and launched into a riveting tale of Johnny-the-idiot-ranch-hand. Alex let him talk for the better part of the hour, part of him engrossed in the stories of Johnny’s sheer incompetence, before he felt ready to talk about why he’d actually called.

“Do you think I’m broken?”

Michael cut off mid word. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I can’t date,” Alex confessed. “Hell, I can’t really go on a date. I just- I can do sex just fine, I have no problem meeting guys and hooking up but anything more than that and I get the urge to run in the other direction.”

The line was silent for long enough that Alex had to check it was still connected. “Guerin?”

“Yeah,” Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m here. I, uh, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry?” Alex wasn’t sure if it was something he should apologize for. For all that they’d made a habit of this, the late night phone call, the ready listening ear, they’d never discussed matters of the heart. Not that he thought this was a matter of the heart, but it was similar enough he supposed.

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize,” Michael hurried to say. “I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m good now.”

“Are you?” Alex arched an eyebrow even though Michael couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” Michael said. “And you are not broken, Alex Manes. Not in any way. So what if you’re not a serial dater? That’s fine.”

“I’m not a dater at all,” Alex reminded him.

“So? There’s nothing wrong with that. Just means you’ve got high standards.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on extrapolating on that?”

Michael laughed lightly. “You’ve got standards, Manes. You don’t want to date because none of those guys are worth your time. You’re good at reading people, yeah? I’m sure if someone held your attention for longer than a fuck, you’d consider a date but none of them are worthy of it so you don’t.”

Alex hadn’t really thought of it that way, that maybe he just hadn’t liked any of the guys he’d met enough to want to date them. Or he had, but he’d dismissed it because how could no guy be worth dating? Well, no guy except… “You think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“This isn’t about me,” Michael hedged.

“That’s not a no,” Alex observed.

“No, it’s not. But this really isn’t about me. There’s nothing wrong with you, Alex. I promise.”

Alex swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it, huh?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. “Should I?”

“...you either do or you don’t, Alex.” Michael’s voice was quiet.

“I do,” Alex confessed. Promised. “I do.”

---

“Michael,” Isobel scolded for the fourth time in ten minutes. And for the fourth time, Michael ignored her completely. When he reached for the bottle again she stretched across the table and snatched it from his fingertips. “Stop drinking.”

Michael turned his head slowly to stare at her. Uncaring if anyone was watching them he yanked the bottle from her grasp with a surge of his powers. It spilled all over both their laps but he paid it no mind as he poured himself another healthy portion. Isobel leapt from her seat with a horrified gasp. “Michael!” 

Michael sipped his drink. A heavy hand on his shoulder splashed a little out of the glass and onto his already ruined jeans. “Michael,” came Max’s disappointed voice a moment later. “It’s not even dark outside yet.”

“Which would probably explain why I have half the bar to myself.” Michael toasted Max with the little that remained in his glass before tossing it back in one swallow. He reached for the bottle again to top it off.

“Why are you like this?” Max asked. He dropped into the seat next to Isobel with a heavy sigh. Michael glanced at him, saw the uniform firmly in place, and looked away. He wasn’t in the mood for Deputy Evans today.

“Max!” Isobel hissed. “If you’re gonna be an ass just leave. I’ve got this.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“I’ve-”

“How about you both leave?” Michael cut her off. He waved a hand at the door. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Michael.” It was Isobel’s turn to sound disappointed and just like that Michael was over it. He stood up so fast his chair fell over and nearly took him with it. Michael reached for the edge of the table to steady himself and knocked the bottle to the floor in the process. 

“Dammit.”

Max rolled his eyes as he stood. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Michael glared up at him. Max ignored him and walked over to the bar to pay Maria. Isobel wasn’t looking at him so Michael took his chance and lurched towards the door. The ground moved slightly under him but he was used to it and adapted quickly.

“Michael!” Isobel’s yell got cut off by the slam of the door closing behind him.

Michael squinted when the sun hit his face. It honestly was a lot earlier than he usually drank but it wasn’t like he had a job to fill his time anymore so what did it matter. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he staggered over to his truck. By the time he got the engine running he’d already listened to Alex’s voicemail twice. 

“Michael!” Max came barrelling out the Pony’s front doors. “Do not drive!” Michael dropped the truck into drive and pulled out with a spray of dirt that may or may not have hit Max in the face. 

He made it back to Foster Ranch without killing anyone or himself. He counted it as his achievement for the day. Once he got to his Airstream and saw the notice to vacate his parking spot on his door, he knew it would be his only one.

Michael crumpled it into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. Sanders didn’t have any work for him right now but he might be willing to let Michael park the Airstream in the lot anyway. If he didn’t, Michael didn’t really have a backup plan but that was tomorrow’s problem. Truthfully, it was yesterday’s but Michael was nothing if not someone who could procrastinate.

He flopped onto his bed and called Alex for the third time. As it rang he dropped it onto his chest and waited for the voicemail message. It was the only time he got to hear Alex’s voice these days.

“You know when someone doesn’t answer it’s not usually an invitation to keep calling.” Alex’s voice was raspy and gruff but it was the most beautiful sound Michael had heard in days, if not longer.

“Alex!” He shot up in the bed and nearly dropped the phone. After fumbling with it for a few precious seconds he pressed it to his ear. “You’re okay!”

There was a pause. “Yeah.”

Michael’s heart sped up. “That’s not exactly your reassuring voice, Alex.”

“I’m alive,” Alex told him needlessly. He was talking to him, he could tell he was alive. “Henderson’s not. Elcott’s not. Markle’s not.” Michael listened to Alex take a deep breath. He pressed a fist into his eyes. Henderson and Elcott he had heard of from Alex a bunch, Markle he didn’t know. “My leg’s gone.”

Michael’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“My right leg. It was- they couldn’t save it.” Michael had no idea what to say. “Can we- I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve been talking about it for days, it’s all anyone wants to talk about and I just-”

Michael desperately wanted to talk about it. “Wyatt Long got arrested again yesterday; public indecency.”

Alex’s exhale sounded relieved. “What’d he do?”

“Decided it would be a good idea to take a shower in the high school locker room. During school hours.”

“Why the fu-”

“He was drunk. Thought he was late for football practice. Or at least that’s the story I got from Max. The official story is it was all just a big misunderstanding and the Sheriff’s Department is ‘very sorry’ for the trouble they caused him.”

“Man,” Alex snorted. “Must be nice to own the town.”

“Right?” Michael slowly lowered back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Alex’s voice washed over him. “Some guys just have all the luck.”

Alex hummed. When he didn’t say anything more, Michael launched into another story. And then another one. And another. 

It was easily half an hour later, in a lull between Roswell updates, that Alex finally spoke. “I bought a house.”

Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed around it. “Oh yeah? I thought you said you were renting only, that there was no point in trying to settle down when you were just going to have to move again soon.” 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “But my service is almost up. And with my leg...”

“Right. So, uh, which one’s the lucky city?” How far away was Alex going to be?

“You remember Lily Pierce?” Alex asked suddenly.

Michael furrowed his brow. “Cheerleader? Parents were never home so she always threw the parties?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

“I bought the house two doors down from her place.”

Michael’s heart stuttered. “That’s in Roswell.”

Alex let out a huff. It sounded vaguely amused. “So my realtor said.”

“You bought a house in Roswell?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Michael wasn’t sure how Alex expected him to react to that. “When’s your service up?”

“Not for another year.”

“Captain Manes!” A distant voice scolded. “You’re not supposed to be up!”

“Alex?”

“Shit, Guerin. I’ve gotta go.”

“Alex!” But Alex had already hung up.

---

Michael paced outside the Airstream, phone clenched in his fist as it rang. He counted the rings and answered on the last one.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he greeted.

Alex sighed. “You knew I was back in town.” 

“From Isobel!” Michael yelled. He’d found out from a flyer on Isobel’s dining room table denoting a welcome home parade for resident town hero Alex Manes. Not because Alex had bothered to tell him himself. 

“I was going to tell you.”

“Clearly.”

Alex was quiet. “You’re angry.”

“Damn right, I’m angry! You blow back into town without a word only to show up at my door with your dad? Alex!”

“Not about that,” Alex dismissed. “You’re upset about that but not this angry.”

He was right, Michael was more angry about everything going on with Max and Liz fucking Ortecho, but that didn’t mean Michael could admit it. “Right,” he scoffed. “Because you know me so well.”

“Okay, I’m not talking to you while you’re like this.”

“Fuck you.”

Alex hung up. Michael’s curses split the air but there was no one around to hear them. He’s not too proud to admit that he threw a minor tantrum, dust kicking up around him as he used his powers on the lawn chairs he hadn’t packed up yet. They went tumbling across the distance until they crashed into the side of his truck. 

The loud clang they made when they collided startled him out of his anger. With a disgruntled sigh, he trudged over and grabbed the chairs, folding them up and tossing them in the bed of the truck. He had to pack everything up anyway now that the land had been sold. No point putting them back out. 

Once that was taken care of he felt calmer. And slightly ashamed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Alex back.

He answered on the second ring. “You still pissy?”

“Fuck you,” Michael replied. It was decidedly more teasing and less angry than the last time he’d said it. Alex clearly heard the difference.

“Good. What’s up?”

“Just some bullshit with Max thinking he rules the world.”

“The usual, then?”

Michael snorted. “Nah. Little more than the usual. He, uh, he decided to go around sharing secrets that weren’t his.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“It’s a shitty thing to happen.”

“Yeah,” Michael exhaled loudly. “So. You’re back.”

Alex paused. “I’m back.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m finishing up my service and then, well, I’ve got the house, so…”

“How is it?” He’d driven by it once, right after Alex told him he bought it, but he’d never been inside.

“Looks like crap,” Alex laughed. “I should have gotten someone to come clean it. Or, you know, furnish it. I’ve got a bed and one folding chair.”

“You’ve been back for two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

They both fell silent. Michael could tell Alex had something on the tip of his tongue but whatever it was, he didn’t say it.

“You going to the reunion?” Michael finally asked, when the silence had dragged out too long.

“Reunion?”

“Yeah, Izzy put together our ten year reunion. Saturday night? Pretty sure Maria’s going.”

“Uh,” Alex stuttered. “I guess? I haven’t actually been to see Maria yet so it would be a time to catch up, I guess.” Michael definitely didn’t read anything into the fact that Alex hadn’t seen his best friend since coming home either. At least he wasn’t avoiding Michael specifically. 

“I’ll text you the details.”

“That’s fine, I can get them from Maria.”

Michael tensed. “Right. Sure.”

“Look, Guerin-” Alex sighed and stopped. “It’s late.” It was always late, with them.

“Yeah, sure. Good night.”

He hung up before Alex could reply, some of that earlier anger still simmering under the surface. 

---

Alex stared out at the desert behind his house and fingered his phone in his pocket. He wanted to call Michael but he wasn’t sure he could. Not after how he’d left things earlier.

This was the problem with coming home, he thought idly. They’d made a relationship that worked for them and it worked in part because they didn’t see each other very often. Barely a month in and he’d fucked it up.

After staring into the darkness for too long, Alex gave it up and went to bed. He spent over an hour tossing and turning before accepting that sleep wasn’t coming. At least not easily. 

His phone was on the bedside table, easy to reach from the bed. Alex stared at it for a long moment before giving up and unplugging it from the charger. He told himself he was just going to play a game but he wasn’t surprised to find himself pulling up Michael’s contact. He stared at his name until the screen blurred and then he pressed Call.

He didn’t even know what time it was. It might not be late enough for this kind of thing.

Michael answered but didn’t say anything. Alex listened to his breathing for a few minutes, equally unwilling to talk. For once, Michael didn’t take the silence as an invitation to ramble and instead stayed quiet.

“My dad’s a dick,” Alex offered eventually.

“He is,” Michael agreed readily. He didn’t say anything more.

Alex wanted to apologize, wanted to take back what he’d said earlier at the drive-in but the words got caught in his throat. “I’m not scared of him,” he said instead. “I’m not,” he added firmly.

“No one ever said you were,” Michael replied. “No one could.” He made it sound simple, like it was a fact. Alex wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.

The line was quiet again, the silence only broken by the sound of Michael yawning.

Alex closed his eyes. “I don’t care about the copper wire,” he confessed. It came out so quietly he wasn’t sure Michael heard him.

On the other end of the line, Michael let out a breath, long and slow. “I know, Alex.” And then he hung up.

---

Michael sped away from the hospital, trying to leave the image of his broken siblings behind him. Isobel seemed confident that she needed to be there, that it was the only place safe for her, and Michael was trying not to argue with her but he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand needing a door with an exterior lock to feel safe. And Max was half dead on his feet these days and Michael couldn’t deal with them both. He was never supposed to be the strong one.

The sun was shining overhead but Michael pulled out his phone anyway. It rang and rang until eventually he got Alex’s voicemail. He pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it, then called again.

“Guerin,” Alex greeted, his voice hushed. “I have a meeting with a general in less than a minute, can it wait?” Michael let out a shaky breath.

“Captain Manes,” he heard a voice call. It sounded authoritative. “Yes, sir,” Alex replied, his voice faint. 

Michael prepared to be hung up on but Alex’s voice was suddenly loud in his ear again. “Guerin?” 

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Yeah, it can wait.” Still, Alex hesitated. “Go to your meeting, Alex,” he urged. “I can wait.”

“Okay,” Alex said slowly. “I’ll call you back when I’m done,” he promised just before the line went dead.

Michael made it home and through two oil changes before his phone rang. He ignored Sanders’ look, wiped his hands, and walked away pressing his phone to his ear. “Hey,” he greeted, knowing who it was without even checking the caller ID. “How was your meeting?”

“Long,” Alex huffed. “Generals are entitled assholes.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. Alex wasn’t overly fond of the Air Force but he was usually respectful of it and the men and women he served with. “Tough day, huh?”

“Could be better,” Alex agreed. “You?”

“Isobel committed herself to the psych ward,” Michael admitted. “She’s been having blackouts for the past couple of weeks and she doesn’t know where she goes or what she does and it’s freaking her out.”

“Can they help her?” Alex asked. He didn’t ask if she was okay or if Michael was and for that Michaelw as grateful. He wasn’t okay and he suspected Alex knew it but they didn’t need to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” Michael exhaled heavily. “But she figured it’s better than waking up in the middle of the desert again.”

“Hmm,” Alex mused. “Waking up the desert with no memory or sleeping in an uncomfortable bed in a locked room you can’t get out of…” Michael pictured him weighing his hands like a scale.

“It makes her feel better,” Michael shrugged. He didn’t get it either but it was Isobel’s call. 

“That’s all that matters,” Alex agreed. He paused. “Want to hear about this guy Jones? He stole a developmental vehicle they’re testing out and wrecked it last night and now he’s trying to stop the brass from figuring it out.” It wasn’t how they usually did this, Alex talking his ear off, but it sounded really good right about now.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Tell me about Jones.”

The sun went down while Alex talked and Michael felt the words ease some of the ache in his shoulders. It was nice, he realized, to hear Alex’s voice. It didn’t matter what he said, Michael was tuning most of it out, but it didn’t matter.

---

Alex had just started getting ready for bed when the phone rang. At first, seeing Michael’s name flash on the screen, Alex was tempted to ignore it. He’d spent the entire day waiting for Michael to come home so they could talk only for him not to show up. But it was after midnight and a phone call after midnight was always answered. It was their unspoken rule.

“Guerin,” he answered in a clipped voice.

“He’s dead,” Michael gasped.

Alex froze. “Who’s dead?”

“Max.”

Alex stood up from the bed and started grabbing his things. “Where are you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I dropped Izzy off and I was going home but-”

“Stay there,” Alex told him. He snatched his keys off of the table and yanked the front door open. “I’m coming.” 

“Don’t-”

“I’m coming,” Alex repeated firmly as he started the car. 

“Don’t hang up,” Michael requested weakly.

Alex closed his eyes briefly as he took off towards Isobel’s house. “I won’t. Michael, I won’t.” And he didn’t. He started humming as he drove, the old chords forever on the tip of his tongue. He’d never managed to put words to them, not in the decade he’d been writing the music, but he knew the melody like the back of his hand. 

He made it to Isobel’s house and immediately turned in the direction of Sanders’. It was only five minutes or so before his headlights picked up the familiar form of Michael’s old truck parked on the shoulder. Alex parked behind him and hung up the phone before getting out and hurrying over to Michael’s door. 

Michael was staring at his dark phone when Alex reached his window. There was a look of utter confusion on it, like he didn’t know what had happened. He turned that look on Alex when he opened the door. “Alex?”

“Hey,” he greeted softly. 

Michael stared at him for a moment longer before he started leaning towards him. Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him awkwardly as Michael planted his face in Alex’s neck. “Max is dead.” Alex was about to ask what happened when Michael continued. “Rosa’s back. He brought her back.”

Alex froze. He genuinely did not know what to say to that. 

Michael pawed at the back of his head, his fingers scrabbling at the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “You stopped singing.” His hand felt different than normal but Alex ignored it.

Alex immediately started humming again. Bit by bit, he felt Michael relax against him. The positioning was uncomfortable for both of them but Michael didn’t seem inclined to move and Alex couldn’t bring himself to suggest it. They stood there for the better part of an hour before Michael unfolded himself.

“It’s late,” he remarked. His face was already starting to shutter, his grief from a moment ago hidden away. “You should get home, get some sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Guerin-”

Michael pushed his shoulder gently until Alex took a step back and he could close the door. Alex didn’t stop him as Michael gave him a tiny, crooked smile and a nod in thanks and drove away.

The next time they saw each other, neither said a word about that night, silently agreeing to pretend the last time they’d seen each other was in the Airstream before Max and Noah died and Rosa was resurrected.

---

Michael got lost in the music. His fingers were cramped and his arms were tired and he barely noticed. Every now and then he’d shake out his hand, maybe run the fingers of his right hand across just to convince himself that his eyes weren’t lying, but then he’d go right back to the guitar. He’d stolen it from the Pony a few nights ago and he’d been playing it ever since. 

Turns out not everything is like riding a bike. Michael was having to relearn everything, recondition his fingers to work like they’re supposed to, and he was enjoying every second of it. Part of him wanted to keep it to himself, to hoard this kernel of joy and not let the world ruin it like it had ruined everything else, but part of him also ached to share it. To not be alone in this too.

Michael missed a chord and stopped to rub the cramps out of his fingers. A quick glance at his phone showed the time was 1:57am so he unlocked it and called Alex without a second’s thought.

“Guerin?” Alex’s voice was rough with sleep but the worry was evident. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael promised. It was somewhat of a lie, plenty of things were wrong, but nothing at this moment. “Listen.” He put the phone on speaker, set it down next to him, and started to play. It was rough, a far cry from what he used to be able to do, but it was also worlds better than anything he’d done in a decade. 

He ran through a few songs, old favorites that he’d first learned in high school, before his fingers took over and started playing something new. Well. Not new. 

Over the phone, Alex inhaled sharply in recognition but Michael didn’t stop playing. He’d been listening to this melody for ten years and his fingers knew the notes faster than he could think of them.

Finally, the song came to an end. In its wake there was only silence. 

“That’s my song,” Alex said softly. “You played my song.” Michael didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. “You played-” Alex cut himself off. He cleared his throat before continuing, “it sounded amazing, Michael.”

Michael closed his eyes and ducked his head. “It wasn’t,” he objected. He didn’t comment on the rare use of his first name.

“It was,” Alex repeated. “I’ve never played it before.” He quieted. ”I’m glad I could hear you do it.” 

Michael squeezed his left hand into his fist, relaxed it, then did it again. “I’m glad I could play it for you,” he replied softly. 

They sat in silence for a moment longer. “Okay,” Alex eventually said, at a more normal volume. “Now play Free Bird.”

“Fuck you,” Michael laughed. “Let me work my way up.”

“Fine,” Alex scoffed. “Play Thnks fr th Mmrs.” 

Michael rolled his eyes but complied. The only reason he knew it was because Alex had been obsessed with it in high school so he supposed it was only fitting.

They stayed on the phone for a while, Alex making requests and Michael doing his best to fulfill them, before his hand cramped up too much for him to continue.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, just before Michael could hang up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me listen.” He hung up before Michael could think of a reply.

---

Alex eased the car door closed, not wanting to interrupt the quiet night. It wasn’t that late, was actually pretty early if you counted before midnight as early, but Alex kept to his routine anyway. Up ahead, a body lounged against the wall, a dark cowboy hat pulled low. Alex ran his eyes over the familiar form, taking in every detail he could as he came to a stop next to him.

Michael slowly looked up at him. “You came,” he greeted, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“You asked me to,” Alex reminded him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the middle of the night. Michael had called and Alex had answered. It’s what they did.

---

Michael wasn’t sure why (that’s a lie) but he found himself pulling into Alex’s driveway three hours after he’d said goodnight to Maria. She’d asked him to stay over but he’d made some excuse he couldn’t even remember to go back to the Airstream but instead he’d driven around for hours until finding himself here.

At Alex’s house.

They didn’t do this. If they needed each other in the middle of the night, they called. They didn’t show up. Not in the last 18 months since Alex moved back had they done this. But here Michael was.

He got out of his truck and let the door fall closed. It was loud in the quiet night but Michael didn’t care. Alex’s neighbors were far enough away that they shouldn’t be too bothered by it and waking Alex was sort of the whole point of being here. Wasn’t it?

Michael made his way to Alex’s patio, his steps heavy, and dropped into one of his chairs. The metal squeaked across the bricks at the motion but Michael hardly noticed it. He planted his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t long, or maybe it was, before the front door opened and Alex stepped outside. Michael heard him close the door before making his way over to him, his crutches sounding different on the brick.

The chair next to him pulled back and a moment later Alex dropped into it. He set his crutches to the side and placed a bottle of bourbon on the table. Michael glanced at it. It was his favorite brand. Alex hated it.

“Maria has her powers because her family was experimented on at Caulfield,” Michael greeted. “And the more she uses them the more they hurt her. It’s what happened to Mimi. It’s why Mimi gave her a necklace to block her powers.”

He looked up when Alex didn’t say anything and found himself staring at Alex’s stunned face while he processed his words. “She didn’t tell you,” he realized. Alex shook his head. “Shit,” Michael cursed lowly. He’d come here to vent not to drop a bomb on Alex. “Sorry. I figured she would.” Alex shook his head again. His fingers turned white with how hard he was squeezing the arm of his chair.

Michael reached out and gently unhooked his fingers. The second Alex’s hand was free, he twisted in his own and held on tight. He knew how Alex felt about Caulfield, knew he felt guilty for his family’s actions there. He really hadn’t meant to just unload on him like that.

After a short while Alex’s grip on Michael’s hand eased and he started to breathe easier. “Okay,” he said. “What else?”

Michael stilled. “Who said there’s something else?” Alex just looked at him. Michael tried to meet his gaze but he couldn’t, finally relenting, “I don’t want her to use her powers but she wants to. She doesn’t seem to care that it could hurt her or kill her.”

Alex didn’t say anything at first, his grip tightening on Michael’s again though this time it was in comfort. “It’s her life, Guerin,” he finally said. His voice was harder than Michael was used to at this time of night. Michael opened his mouth to reply but Alex talked over him. “It is. Just because you’re dating her does not mean you get to make those choices for her. I’m not saying you have to like it or ignore the issue, but the decision’s hers. Like it or not, it’s not your call.”

Michael yanked his hand away and stood up. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch her self-destruct?”

Alex looked at him evenly. “If that’s what she decides to do? Yes.”

Michael shook his head. “No. That’s not gonna happen.”

“It’s not easy to watch someone self-destruct,” Alex said quietly. His voice still wasn’t any softer. Michael stifled a flinch when he realized what Alex was talking about. “But it’s not your call. Sometimes all you can do is sit back and watch.”

Michael froze, thought about what he’d said, and dismissed it. “No,” he shook his head again. With that, he spun on his heel and went back to his truck.

Alex didn’t call after him.

---

Alex knew where Michael was, knew who was with him right now, and still he called him.

“Hmm,” Michael greeted quietly. In the background, there was a rustle of sheets and Maria’s questioning murmur. Alex forced himself to listen to it as Michael made his way out of his girlfriend’s bedroom.

As Michael wordlessly made his way outside, the quiet click of doors opening and shutting revealing his path, Alex raised the bottle to his lips and took another long sip. He should stop, he knew he should. He’d passed too much at least an hour ago, but he didn’t care.

“Alex?” Michael finally asked. It was otherwise silent on his end.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts?” Alex asked. He was pretty sure he wasn’t slurring but Michael’s next words quickly corrected him.

“You’re drunk.” He didn’t say it like a question because it wasn’t.

“I spent the day with you and your girlfriend,” Alex reminded him. “Yes, I’m drunk.”

“Alex…”

“Just talk,” Alex ordered. He didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Michael, but he needed Michael’s voice in his ear. Over a decade and he’d still never found something that helped even half as much as letting Michael ramble in his ear until his thoughts settled and he could breathe again.

Michael didn’t say anything right away. There was a pause long enough that Alex was almost about to plead with him before Michael got with the program.

“There’s a group of women who like to come by and get their cars fixed any time it’s really hot outside,” he started. “Isobel calls them the Real Housewives of Roswell…”

Alex closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Michael never raised his voice above a murmur, his tone light and gentle, and at some point Alex capped the bottle and set it aside. He let Michael talk for almost two hours (at one point he’s fairly certain Michael started reciting the plot of his latest tv show but Alex wasn’t going to call him on it) until he was cut off by another voice. 

“Everything ok?” Maria asked. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Alex hung up before he heard Michael’s answer.

---

Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the sound of the ocean. It was late, very late, and the beach was deserted except for them, and the only sound in the world was that of the waves crashing gently against the sand. 

“Heartbreak sucks,” Liz huffed. She was carving smooth circles in the sand around herself with her feet. It was the first thing she’d said since she’d joined Michael an hour before.

Michael hummed questioningly.

She gave him a sad smile and turned to look out at the water. This far out, the only light came from the moon and it made the waves shimmer. “When I first got here, I used to come out here all the time. Used to stare at the water like it held all the answers.” Her laugh was brittle and self-deprecating. “Like the ocean could fix my relationship for me.”

Michael pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them. “I’m not sure it’s that powerful.”

She smiled. “No. But sometimes it feels that way. Like if I spent enough time here it would wash away all of the bad stuff and leave all the good. All the parts that love Max enough to fix are problems.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “I get that.”

Liz bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’ll be okay, Mikey. If you and Maria are meant to be, you will be. It’s just a few rough patches.”

Michael couldn’t help himself, he laughed. Liz stared at him in surprise. “Yeah, no, Maria and I are done. It’s not a rough patch.”

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. And so does she. We’re not meant for each other, no matter that we love each other.”

Liz frowned and shifted over to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Michael hummed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to agree with her, even though he knew that’s what she was probably expecting. Maria had done the right thing ending things between them. He’d tried to deny it at first but he’d quickly come to accept it. They really weren’t meant for each other. Maria was meant for better men than him and he was meant for one specific person. The rest of the world paled in comparison and Michael had finally stopped denying it. To himself at least. 

“You’ll find someone,” Liz assured him. “You deserve to be happy, Michael.”

Michael smiled. “So do you. Even if it is with my idiot brother.”

Liz’s lips quirked upwards but she didn’t say anything. They sat in silence watching the waves for a while before Liz sat up with a groan. “I need sleep.” Michael sat where he was as she stumbled to her feet and held out her hand. “You coming?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m good here. Not like I have to work in the morning,” he teased. 

Liz gave him a searching look before shrugging. “You know the way back, right?” Michael nodded and she left. He heard her trudging through the sand behind him until she hit the road. 

When the sound of her car had faded into the night, Michael dug his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

“How’s California?” 

“I like the ocean,” Michael replied. “It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” Alex agreed. “I always felt small, though. Standing on a beach. The entire world out there in front of you and you can’t see any of it because there’s just water.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.”

“How’s Liz?”

“She’s good. Obsessed with her work. Misses Max for some reason.”

Alex laughed. “Can’t imagine why she’d do that.”

“I can,” Michael confesses, the night giving him courage. “I miss you.”

Alex inhaled sharply. “Guerin-”

“Hey, it’s after midnight, doesn’t count, right?” Michael cut him off. He wasn’t ready for the big conversation just yet. 

“No lies after midnight,” Alex reminded him.

“Who said I was lying?” The next wave brushed dangerously close to his toes. Michael didn’t move. There was a voice on the other end of the phone, faint but recognizable. “Is that Forrest?”

“...yeah,” Alex muttered. “Hold on.” There was a shift and then the sound was muffled like Alex had covered the receiver. “‘Night,” Michael heard him say, followed by what sounded like a kiss.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Forrest asked.

“No, I’ve got an early morning,” Alex hedged. “No point.”

“Okay.” Another kiss. “Good night.”

Michael waited until he heard the door close and the sound cleared up before speaking. “Not up to sleepovers, yet?”

“No,” Alex replied. Michael wasn’t sure if it was an answer or an order but either way Alex’s tone left no room for discussion so Michael dropped it. Problem was, he didn’t know what else to say. The mood from earlier was gone. Alex cleared his throat. “I miss you too.”

Michael felt his lips turn up in a helpless smile. “Yeah?”

Alex hummed. “I’ve kinda been wanting to show you the ocean for years now. I’m a little annoyed I didn’t get to.”

“Well,” Michael swallowed. “I hear there’s an entirely different ocean on the other side of the country.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Just something to consider.”

“Good to know.”

Silence fell over them again. Normally this is when Alex would start humming but Michael wasn’t sure he could take it right now. Not now that he knew the words to go with the song. 

“Night, Alex,” he finally said. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Good night, Michael.”

They hung up. Michael stared at his phone, trying hard not to think about how much softer Alex had sounded telling him good night than when he’d said it to Forrest. It wouldn’t do him any good to compare himself to Alex’s boyfriend. Their time was now. His and Alex’s would come. He believed that.

He had to.

---

Forrest snuffled and reached for him as he got out of bed. Alex paused and waited to make sure he hadn’t woken up before he grabbed his crutches and hauled himself upright. 

Navigating out of his bedroom in the dark with his phone tucked under his chin and both crutches in his hands while trying not to wake up the man sleeping in his bed was harder than he’d anticipated but Alex managed it. In the hallway, he paused just long enough to ease the door closed behind him before making his way outside. 

It was late, late enough that Alex almost expected to see the beginnings of the dawn on the horizon, but he hadn’t been able to sleep yet. Tonight was the first time Forrest had stayed over, the first time Alex had had to share his bed with someone other than Michael for longer than a few hours, and he wasn’t dealing with it as well as he’d hoped he would.

He didn’t even hesitate before he called Michael.

“Alex?” Michael sounded groggy.

“Fuck you,” Alex replied. He dug the palm of his free hand into his eye. 

“What did I do now?” He sounded simultaneously wide awake and more tired than he had a moment before.

“He’s not you.”

“Alex-”

“You got to move on, why can’t I? Why can’t I make this work? Why can’t I be with someone who’s not you?”

“Alex-”

Alex hung up.

---

It was late when Alex showed up at the Airstream. The fire was mostly embers and Michael was on his second and last beer of the night. When Alex got out of his car, Michael put his beer down and stood to greet him. He meant to meet him halfway but Alex was quicker on his feet and met Michael before he’d gotten more than a handful of steps. The last gasps of the fire provided little light but what light there was danced across Alex’s face.

“It’s late,” Michael greeted. He’d been back from California for almost two weeks and this was the first time Michael had seen him since then. 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He looked at Michael with a strange look in his eyes. If Michael didn’t know any better he’d say Alex came here for a reason. A very specific reason that didn’t involve a lot talking. “It’s almost four.” He stared at Michael until Michael got it. What happened in the early hours before dawn, when the night was at its peak, didn’t count. They’d scraped together a decade long relationship on that premise alone. The secrets, the fears, the hopes, the dreams, anything confessed across a phone line when the moon was high in the sky, didn’t count. Not really. Sure, lately they’d expanded that to in person conversations but Alex wasn’t here for a conversation and he wanted the same rules to apply. What happened between them at this time of night only existed in the here and now. It didn’t carry over into the daylight. 

Michael knew it was probably a bad idea. As they’d both said many a time, their relationship involved too much sex and too little talking when they were actually together and that had been their downfall. They were doing better lately but they weren’t there yet and Michael had no idea how introducing sex would impact them now. And that didn’t even take into account the fact that Alex still had a boyfriend who wasn’t Michael. But if Alex wasn’t going to mention that part, neither was Michael. He took one careful step towards Alex. “So it is,” he agreed. 

Alex waited a second, searching his face for confirmation, before he lunged forward and kissed him. His hands went straight to Michael’s hair, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck while Michael clutched at his waist and pressed them as close together as they could possibly be.

They lost themselves in each other for long enough that when Michael finally pulled back to catch a breath, even the embers had died off. Alex trailed his lips down his neck and found that one spot that drove Michael crazy. The spot that no one else had ever found. “Alex,” he moaned. Alex’s only reaction was to start leading Michael backwards until his back hit the side of the Airstream with a gentle thud. Michael braced himself against it, cupped Alex’s face and pulled his lips back up to his.

Michael lost his shirt and his boots right there and Alex’s shirt found its way to the ground as they maneuvered the two steps it took to get to the door. They had to separate to get inside and Michael felt like he could hardly breathe during those few seconds. When Alex was finally inside, Michael pulled him close. It made walking back to the bed difficult but neither attempted to pull away again. 

When they finally did, Alex didn’t go far. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his prosthetic for long enough that Michael decided to press his luck. “Stay,” he asked softly. Alex’s shoulders tensed and his eyes closed. “It’s still dark out,” Michael pointed out. “Sun’s not gonna come up for hours.”

That made Alex look back at him and Michael couldn’t help but kiss him again, his fingers sliding through Alex’s sweaty hair to hold him close. “Stay.”

Alex pulled away again to fish his phone out of his pants and set an alarm but then he was back in Michael’s arms. He still hadn’t said more than five words since he showed up but Michael didn’t care. Not yet anyway.

Whether or not either of them got any sleep was a question neither was inclined to ask nor answer but when Alex’s alarm went off just as the sky was starting to lighten outside his window, neither moved. They stayed where they were, Alex half on top of Michael, his fingers reaching up to tangle in his curls. Michael was busy trailing a finger up and down Alex’s arm. 

Eventually, though, the sky got light enough to force Alex into action. “Sun’s up,” he murmured. He paused and considered the view out the window. “Well. Almost.” He kissed Michael, slow and thorough, before pulling away completely. 

Michael watched silently as Alex got dressed. When Alex was ready, sans his shirt which was still outside, he stopped and considered Michael still laying in the bed. With another glance out the window, he leaned down and kissed Michael one last time before turning and leaving without another word. 

---

Michael didn’t hear from Alex for days after the night they spent together. It wasn’t too surprising nor was it unusual; their calls had never been an overly frequent occurrence and their paths didn’t cross in town much. But still, it made Michael antsy. He knew the point of it was that they wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t even mention it, but dammit, Michael had questions. He needed to know what it meant, both in the present and for the future, and whether or not he should be prepared for it to happen again. 

He was still trying to figure out to bring it up with Alex when the opportunity dropped into his lap. Liz’s welcome back party at the Crashdown started five minutes ago and he was running late. After spending too long searching for a parking space, he hurried around the corner to the diner only to find Alex and Forrest just ahead of him. Alex’s shoulders were tense and there was a careful distance between the two men but they were still clearly together.

“Alex,” Michael called before he could stop himself. Alex froze in his tracks as Forrest turned to greet Michael. Michael nodded at Forrest in hello and waited for Alex to turn around. He eventually did, at first not quite looking at him before clearly forcing himself to meet his eyes. 

“Guerin,” he greeted. “We’re all late,” he reminded them as he started to take careful steps towards the diner entrance. Forrest offered Michael a strained smile before following him and suddenly Michael was done.

He took his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

The ringtone sounded loud and sharp and Forrest looked at Alex in surprise. “Since when do you have the volume on?”

Alex put a hand on his pocket over his phone and didn’t answer. They all stood there as Alex waited for the phone to stop ringing. Taking mercy on him, Michael ended the call, watched Alex’s shoulders relax, and called again.

This time, Alex had a hand on the door when his phone went off and his knuckles went white around it. “Are you going to answer that?” Forrest asked.

Alex sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. “Not now,” was all he said, his voice echoing through Michael’s phone, before hanging up and trying to tuck it away again.

Michael called him back.

Alex let out an actual groan of frustration before turning around. “Forrest, we’ll meet you inside.” Forrest looked between them before nodding slowly and stepping around Alex and into the diner. When the door shut behind him Alex led Michael around the corner and across the street for a modicum of privacy.

“It’s daytime,” Alex pointed out.

Michael looked up at the sun shining above them and nodded. “I thought that’s what the sun meant.”

“Michael,” Alex huffed. “What do you need, right now?”

“Answers,” Michael replied simply.

“It was 4am,” Alex reminded him. “What happens at 4am stays there. We don’t talk about it, we don’t ask questions, we don’t fucking bring it up in the middle of the day.”

“Maybe we should.”

“No.” Alex shook his head. “You don’t get to change the rules now.”

“I’m not trying to change the rules! I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?!” Alex shot back. “It was a 4am thing. It doesn’t mean anything.” Michael was stunned silent and Alex took advantage of it to walk past him. “We’re late for Liz’s lunch.”

Michael shook his head and spun. “It meant something!” Michael yelled after him. Alex stopped in his tracks. Just ahead, their friends turned the corner, clearly looking for them but Michael ignored them. “Of course it meant something, Alex, it always means something! And I am sick and tired of us pretending that it doesn’t.” Alex turned slowly to face him as Michael closed the distance between them. “Every single phone call,” he said quietly but earnestly. “They meant something. They mean something.” He shook his head. “They’re not nothing,” he pleaded gently.

“They’ve never been nothing,” Alex agreed softly.

A weight lifted off his chest and Michael breathed a little easier. “Maybe I am trying to change the rules but I think the rules need to change,” Michael said. “We can’t not talk about those things. About-”

“Michael-” Alex cut him off.

“Alex.”

Alex turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder and Michael was suddenly reminded of their audience. Forrest, Kyle, Maria, and Liz were standing on the corner staring at them. “Now’s not the time,” Alex finished. 

Suddenly, the last thing Michael wanted to do was sit through a lunch with all their friends and Alex’s boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He stepped around Alex, careful not to touch him, and walked over to their friends. He greeted Liz with a quick hug. “Welcome home, Liz. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to miss your lunch.”

“We’ll do something another time,” Liz agreed easily. He nodded at her and crossed the street to his truck, pulling away before anyone could even think of calling after him.

---

Alex heard Michael pull away and didn’t move. He waited until three sets of footsteps walked away and he knew there was only one person left behind him. Still, he hesitated before turning around.

“So,” Forrest started. “I think it’s safe to say this thing between us has run its course.”

“Forrest,” Alex started but Forrest held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, Alex. I knew we weren’t going to last forever. But we had some good times and I don’t regret it.”

“I didn’t want it to end like this,” Alex told him sincerely. 

Forrest cocked his head slightly. “Where did you go three nights ago?” Alex looked away. “It was the first night you agreed to stay over at my place but you disappeared for hours, snuck back in after sunrise. Where’d you go, Alex?” His voice was soft with understanding but Alex heard the hurt in it.

He couldn’t lie. “I went to Michael.”

Forrest nodded like it was exactly what he expected to hear. “Wasn’t just a chat was it?” Alex shook his head. “He’s who you’re meant to be with.”

“Forrest, this was real.” Alex needed him to know.

“I know it was. But I’m not Michael Guerin so it was never going to work.” Alex didn’t know what to say to that except-

“I’m sorry.”

Forrest swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “See you around Alex.”

And then he was gone.

Alex tried really hard to convince himself the next breath he took wasn’t one of relief and he couldn’t quite succeed.

He took a moment to pull himself together and followed after him. Only, when he turned the corner it was Liz leaning up against the wall with Forrest nowhere in sight. 

“Let me guess. You’re skipping out on my lunch, too?” She didn’t look too upset about it so Alex didn’t feel too bad when he nodded. She huffed a small laugh and shook her head. “You two are a mess.”

“Don’t worry, we’re well aware,” Alex assured her.

She smirked. “I’m sure you are.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “Mikey took off that way so I don’t think he’s headed back to the scrapyard.” Alex looked down the street in the direction she indicated and knew immediately where Michael had gone. “Hey,” Liz put her hand on his arm to get his attention. “Don’t fuck it up this time, yeah? Either of you.”

“We’ll do our best.” He gave her a quick hug and a promise to meet up later and hurried away to his own car. 

It was a relatively short drive out to their spot and Alex made it shorter.

Michael’s truck was in the same spot it had always been and Alex parked next to it. He didn’t see Michael but he wasn’t too worried. Alex rounded the car and pulled the liftgate down to reveal Michael sprawled on his back in the truck bed.

“Should I have called?” Alex asked.

Michael opened his eyes and looked at him. “No,” he replied. “I think we need to get used to doing this the old fashioned way.” He held out a hand and helped Alex get up next to him, moving only slightly to give Alex room.

“Forrest broke up with me,” Alex announced.

“Oh?” 

Alex hummed. “Asked me where I went three nights ago and then told me we were never going to work because he’s not Michael Guerin.” Michael didn’t say anything. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Michael shifted so they were looking at each other. “Are we ready now? I know I am.”

“I just got out of a relationship twenty minutes ago,” Alex reminded him.

“So is that a no?”

Alex sighed and looked up at the clouds. “No. It’s an ‘I wish I was a better person’.”

Michael gripped the front of Alex’s shirt and tugged lightly until Alex looked at him. “So are we doing this?”

“What is this?” Alex asked, needing clarification or rather needing there to be no confusion.

“This. Us. For real. No more walking away. No more hiding behind middle of the night phone calls. No more seeing other people. Just us.”

Alex rolled over onto his shoulder so he could look down at Michael. “For good?”

“That is the idea.” Michael’s eyes were more serious than Alex could ever remember seeing them.

“Good. But no fuck ups, okay?” Alex put his hand to Michael’s chest. “We go all in, I’m not sure either of us will recover from it going bad.”

Michael wrapped an arm around Alex’s back, his other hand going to Alex’s cheek. “We won’t. It may not be perfect all the time but we’re not going to fuck it up.”  Alex took the words for the solemn vow they were and kissed him. 

---

Epilogue

Michael had no idea what the fight was about. He wasn’t even sure it was actually about anything. They’d both been stressed for days about different things and they hadn’t had much time together and suddenly they were shouting at each other over the dishes. 

He watched Alex storm away and part of him felt relieved. It had been going too well for months now and he had to admit he’d been waiting for something like this to happen. 

When Alex didn’t come back after a few minutes, Michael finished up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. That done, he crossed the empty house to the living room and picked up Alex’s guitar. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the silence in case it led to another fight somehow but he couldn’t sit around doing nothing so he started picking his way carefully through one of the new songs he was learning, taking it slow and playing quietly. 

When the song under his fingers turned into Alex’s song a few minutes later, he wasn’t surprised. Ever since he figured out how to play it, it was one of his favorites, his body long used to relaxing to the melody.

As the last chords echoed in the room (he may have been playing louder than he meant to), his phone started ringing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Alex’s face on the screen. Setting the guitar down, he answered.

“Too loud?”

“No,” Alex replied. “Can you-” he cut himself off with a groan. “Can you just-”

The last of the tension slipped from him as he settled back against the couch and started rambling about his week. Halfway through, Alex stepped inside from the back patio and hung up. Michael let his phone drop as Alex curled up next to him on the couch but he never stopped talking. When he ran out of things to say, Alex took up the slack and filled him in on his own week. 

The sun went down around them and Michael didn’t notice.

“Hey,” Alex sat up once he’d finished and they’d enjoyed a few moments of quiet. “No fair using my own song against me.”

Michael smirked. “Whatever works. But truthfully, I was playing it for myself. For some reason I’m practically conditioned to relax when I hear it.”

“Oh really?” Alex hummed, a smirk tugging at his own lips. “Wonder why.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

[thesameasbe4]

Tangled Up in Tuscany

Sebastian Stan showing all of us that he’s really just a normal guy with a nice jaw line. 

It wasn’t my first time in Tuscany, but the last time had been over ten years ago on a high school trip. I wasn’t expecting it to be quite the same experience this time, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I stepped into the grand entrance of the hotel, doing my best not to look too out of place amidst the fine room and well dressed people. I had not traveled with the rest of the wedding party out of Atlanta, unlike the rest of them, I had a real job and couldn’t just take off three weeks for a luxurious wedding, so I was the last to arrive by about five days. And in that time I had been bombarded by the photos and messages on the bridal party group text of all the extravagant things they had been doing. Touring old churches, wine tasting, eating at the most elegant restaurants. While I was a tad jealous, I also got the impression that doing these things in the company of the other bridesmaids would perhaps detract from the overall experience. So it was what it was.

The door man walked me to the front desk where I shyly greeted the shrewd desk clerk. “Hi, I should have a reservation under LeBlanc.” I spelled it and his rather illustrious eyebrows lifted. “Tu parle francaise?” The man asked.

I smiled a little and shook my head, “Non, je ne parle pas francais, je parle l’anglais.”  

“But it is a French name yes?” He pressed, and I responded in the affirmative. Seeming in better spirits he motioned to a man standing to my left in some kind of negotiation with another clerk. “It seems you two are here for the same event, do you know each other?”

I looked again at the man, he had dark brown hair and a five o’clock shadow covering his strong jaw line. He fit in here, dressed in his well cut European suit and perfectly coiffed hair. Returning my focus to the clerk and straightening my posture, I responded, “Nope, never met him.”

“I think you stole my room,” the gentleman interjected in what I was surprised to hear was an American accent.

I raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Indeed? I have arrived just now, so I don’t know how that can be possible.”

“No look, I think Liz switched the name on the last available room,” he persisted.

“Well I guess you do know the bride then,” I said, noting his casual use of my friend’s name. I replied, “Why would she do that?”

“Look I don’t know, but Joe said there was a room waiting for me here and that was a few days ago.”

I pulled out my phone, planning on giving the bride and groom a call to get this sorted out when the big white numbers on the screen reminded me that it was 3 AM. Sighing, I looked at the clerk, “Are there any more vacant rooms?”

“No madame,” he responded, his voice pinched again like when I first arrived, “that was how we first developed this misunderstanding.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I looked again at the gentleman, “Can you prove you know Liz and Joe?” He reached in to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped around till he found what he wanted and handed it to me.

“That was two years ago in Prague, we worked a movie together.” My eye swept the screen, finally making out the face of the man that stood before me in a cluster of several other people dressed in period clothing. “Also, Joe is allergic to shellfish, which he learned while in Hawaii only after eating an entire shrimp and pineapple pizza.” I laughed, anyone who knew Joe had heard that story.

“Well, you can bunk in my room tonight if you are desperate, then we can get this all settled at a decent hour tomorrow.” I wiggled my room card at him.

“I don’t wan’t to impose,” he said, suddenly looking concerned.

“Look, you already have. All I want is a hot shower and a few hours of sleep, and this compromise is now the quickest way to getting that.”

Maintaining eye contact with me he worried his lower lip, “okay, I guess.”

So we made our way to the elevator. “And I do really appreciate it,” he said as the elevator started going up, “I hope I wasn’t too rude, I just always have really bad luck in Italy.”

“Well let’s hope this trip breaks the cycle, cause I don’t know that I will get another shot at a Tuscany vacation.” I said stepping out of the elevator and into the hallway, locating our door by the small pile of bags that were waiting for us.

I handed him the key as I gathered my things. “Um, I think we made a very American mistake,” came a voice from inside the room.”

“Huh?” I said confusedly, groaning as I came to stand next to him. The room only had one bed.

…

A string of profanity ambled out of my mouth as I stripped in the bathroom. I had insisted that I didn’t need to be put up in such a nice hotel, especially if Liz was paying for me, but no, she wanted me to be with the rest of the wedding party, she wanted me to get along with her fancy Hollywood friends. So here I was in a swanky ass hotel with a strange man that I had, in my fatigue and delirium, decided to trust.

After several minutes of letting the hot water loosen my back and shoulders I climbed out of the shower and slipped into a pair of leggings and a tank top. “It’s all yours,” I said as I traipsed past the much too small bed on which the stranger was lounging.

“Hey, whats your name?” He asked and I stopped, realizing I hadn’t even thought to ask him his God damned name.

“Michelle,” I said, holding my hand out to him. He grasped it firmly and shook.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sebastian.”

I fell into a fitful rest quickly after laying down and I didn’t wake up till the sun began to enter the room through the gorgeous doors that let out onto the little balcony. I took a deep breath, finally taking in the fact that I was in Tuscany, for a glamorous wedding, and I didn’t have to pay for any of it. Then I flexed my arms, realizing too late that what I had thought was a pillow last night was actually the hulking form of a man. Shit what did he say his name was? Sebastian. I pulled my arm away from him quickly but the damage was done.

“Morning,” he groaned, sitting up. I replied with a wave of my hand, too embarrassed to speak, hiding my head back in the sheets. I felt the mattress move as he slid off the edge and bustled around the room and then let himself out. Now that the coast was clear I sat up and rubbed my eyes, forcing myself to wake up.  I pulled my hair up into a quick bun then looked around me for my phone. I had sent Liz a string of panicked texts last night about the room situation that she hadn’t replied to till this morning.

Sorry about the confusion. No, Sebastian isn’t a serial killer. Welcome to Tuscany! Meet us in the lobby at 10.

I glanced at the time. It was barely seven. I cursed jet lag as I marched into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I heard the door open while I was in the bathroom and stuck my head out.

Sebastian had returned with a porter, who placed a matching pair of brown leather suitcases in the closet (I guess all of Sebastian’s luggage hadn’t made it here last night)  and then returned wheeling in a cart full of food. My nose perked at the smell of coffee and I hoped he was planning on sharing.

“So Liz finally confirmed that you aren’t a serial killer,” I said, leaning against a wall.

He smiled at me, “Oh, good. Well I just spoke to Joe, he told me the same about you.” I nodded, smiling now. “I got a little worried last night when you had me in a death grip,” he said, winking at me.

I cleared my throat and looked at the ceiling, “yea I’m a hard sleeper, I cannot account for the actions of my subconscious.”  My gaze drifted to the cart with the heavenly smells of coffee wafting from it.

“Compliments of the bride and groom, for the mix up, I think we got in the way of some kind of argument they were having,” Sebastian said, handing me a white mug with cappuccino foam peaking over the brim.

…

It was two days before the wedding and I was beginning to think I should have delayed even longer. Liz had sent me instructions for both Seb and I to “dress casual” for the day which would be mostly wandering town. What I forgot was that casual meant something very different to a common working woman like myself than to the other rich Hollywood people I had to deal with on this trip. After greeting my friend finally and listening to her reassure me that I was not under dressed in my plain dark wash jeans and chunky sweater, I skulked to the back of the group taking in the dozen or so perfectly sculpted bodies adorned with designer heels, leisure jackets and other decidedly not casual ensembles. I had not seen my roommate come down to the lobby but as we headed out I noticed that he was wearing a very modest ensemble of black jeans, polished shoes and a blue denim jacket over a plain green shirt. I tipped my hat to him silently, either he was a normal like me or he was down to earth, either way I was glad to have gotten stuck with him rather than any of the others.

In the town of Sienna I lagged back, finding the group too noisy and attention grabbing. One of the tall skinny women in our party turned and waved at me, beckoning me closer. I took a few long strides to catch up with them.

“Your Liz’s friend that came in last night right?” She asked.

“Yep,” I replied.

“OMG, so your sharing a room with Sebastian then!”

Raising my eyebrows I replied again, “yep.”

“Well, whats he like?”

“Um, I don’t really know, I slept most of the time we were together, I assume he did too,” I offered in a confused tone. Who was this guy?

“But isn’t he so hot?” The woman asked.

“Well I was mostly concerned that he was a murderer when I first met him, I mean, he wasn’t happy and then I wasn’t actually sure he actually was with the wedding party.”

“But you knew who he was, so what did it matter if he was in the wedding party?”

Utterly confused I said, “Wait, who is he? Why should I know him?”

The woman giggled, “Sebastian Stan? He’s an actor in the Avengers franchise? He’s got a huge fan base and is notoriously private.

Okay so I didn’t really know much about those films but I was intrigued now and despite my greatest efforts to pay him no more mind than I had been, I noticed him more the rest of the day. Many of the women in our group would find reasons to stand next to him, they would grab his arm and laugh, or touch his chest. Interestingly, as the afternoon slipped into evening, he seemed to grow visibly agitated with all of the attention. By dinner time he looked like he was barely holding his polite facade together.

We were scheduled to all eat together at a very nice restaurant, however there was some conversation amongst Liz and Joe and our guides and they made a last minute call to eat separately. I was confused by this, the whole trip having felt micro managed up to this point, but I was glad to get away from the group that I felt so apart from and I took off rather than wait around for an explanation. There was a lovely outdoor patio bar down the street from where we were staying, so I leisurely walked that way.

The air was comfortably cool and I tilted my head back to breathe in the smells of the sleepy town as I sipped my wine. This was the kind of night I would have loved to enjoy with Lizzy, but that was before the days when she was famous.

“You must be American,” a voice behind me said. I turned to see two young Italian men standing behind me. As if that was an invitation to join me, they moved to sit in the vacant chairs on either side of me. “So what are you doing in our town?” One of them asked me in a thick accent and placed a hand on my knee, I shivered at how freely he touched me. I crossed my legs, shrugging his hand off of me. They both looked at ease and there were other people around us so it seemed generally safe, but I didn’t feel like doing this tonight. I slid my chair back, stood and walked to the far side of the bar, out of their line of vision. If they followed me I knew I would just have to leave so I steadied myself for that possibility.

It seemed at first like they had lost interest, but about ten minutes later I heard their laughter moving in my direction. But before I decided how to react I felt a warm hand settle on my lower back. “Hey, don’t freak out, It’s just me.” I looked up at the voice speaking into my ear and saw the grey blue eyes of my roommate. “There are two guys that have been staring at you from across the room, I wanted to make sure you knew that.” I nodded at him in thanks. But the men’s voices drew closer still so I turned to face Sebastian.

“Flirt with me,” I said to him.

“What?”

“They have already been bothering me,” I replied trying to keep my eyes on Sebastian and not give the men any reason to come closer. He nodded and moved closer to me so that we were sharing the same space. He kept his hand on my back and the other one combed through my hair. He touched his forehead to mine and laughed. After a second he drew away just enough to look up, scanning the bar for the two men.

I’m gonna kiss you okay?” He said. I gulped and nodded, after I had agreed, he drew my face up to his and very gently touched his lips to mine, leaving them there for a few seconds then breaking away from me. “They’re leaving,” he said and I sighed, though I honestly wasn’t sure if it was in relief or in reaction to the kiss.

…

I sat against the headboard of the bed, my hair drying from the shower and I flipped through the Italian television channels, trying to ignore how strangely domestic it felt to be sharing a hotel room with this person. A man who was apparently a very well known movie star who had recently helped me out of a sticky situation by kissing me. I held a cup of tea in my hands. I was bringing it to my lips when Sebastian emerged from the bathroom a napkin of a towel wrapped around his waist. My hands trembled just enough at the sight of his sculpted torso to spill hot tea all over my lap.

“Fuck,” I said as I stood, pulling the now damp fabric of my leggings away from my skin.

“You okay?” He asked, looking up from rummaging in his bag.

“I’m fine,” I shot back at him, “just put some goddamn pants on,” I muttered. He laughed and I squeezed my eyes shut, “I guess he had heard that,” I thought to myself. He straightened with a wad of clothes triumphantly held aloft then retreated to the bathroom again to change.

“By the way,” I said when he finally came back out, “thanks for the assist there in the bar.”

He winked at me, “Well I’m sure you’d do the same for me,” he said.

“But I haven’t,” I replied, “I have been watching women throw themselves at you all day and I did nothing to save you, “so really, what you did was an unselfish act.”

He walked to his side of the mattress that never felt so small and threw himself down, making the whole frame shake. “Yea, well none of them looked as hostile as those two men.” He shifted so that he was laying on his back distractedly watching the Italian soap opera that I had found. Soon he was breathing steadily with just a very light snore. I smiled and looked down at him. He really was very nice looking. He had well defined features, long eyelashes and full lips. I caught myself biting one of my own lips and rolled my eyes. Deciding that looking at him like this was creepy I switched the tv off and turned the light off, easing down into the sheets.

I was just on the verge of unconsciousness when I felt Sebastian’s arm wrap around my stomach and pull me into him. His body was relaxed but still solid. I hadn’t realized how big he was. I thought for a moment that I should release myself, that it was the right thing to do, but he wouldn’t know I was awake. Maybe I shouldn’t disturb him? He shifted again this time nuzzling his  scratchy chin into the back of my neck, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his lips were pressed up against the back of my ear. Now throughly enjoying his contact I relaxed into him, laying my arm on top of his.

…

Sebastian’s alarm went off at seven the next morning, the day before the ceremony being filled with activities. I groaned at the shrill sound and was startled to realize my voice was muffled by something I was laying on. I moved my head around, trying to get my bearings without opening my eyes yet. It couldn’t be a pillow, it smelled too good and was too solid.

“Morning,” the thing under me said. I stiffened. Apparently I had managed to fully lay the length of my body on top of Sebastian in the course of the night. He was still on his back and his hands were resting on my bottom, my head was nestled into the crook of his neck and my hands were splayed over his chest. Instead of being embarrassed, I found that I really was just comfortable.

“Do we really have to get up?” I whined into his chest.

I felt his rumbling laugh, “Well I don’t really wanna face the wrath of Lizzy if we don’t show up on time,” he said.

“I thought you were my protector?” I said. He patted my bottom a few times and tried to shift me off of him but I wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll bring you up a cappuccino if you let me get up,” he said. With one more groan fit for the stage I let him roll out from under me. He stood over me for a second and I looked up at him with a mock hurt look on my face. And then before I had time to think, he leaned over me, one hand on either side of me and gently brought his lips to mine.

It was brief but lovely.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered in my ear before turning and leaving the room.

Now fully awake I wandered about the room, unsure of what to do with myself. I pulled out of my suitcase the outfit I was planning on wearing today. The “rehearsal dinner” was more of a rehearsal excursion to the countryside complete with a quartet to play classical Italian music and a wait staff serving Prosecco all day. Lizzy had said to wear “cocktail casual” but I had no idea what the hell that meant. I had settled on a dark burgundy romper. The neckline was a low v and the straps criss-crossed in the back. I laid it out on the bed and was still assessing it when Sebastian returned, a tray of coffee in his hands. Intoxicated by the smell I lifted one of the steaming cups off of the tray and retreated to the small balcony. The morning was cool and the view overlooked the mediterranean rooftops of the little town. I breathed deeply the crisp air and the fragrant coffee.

Sensing his presence behind me I spoke up, “I never would have imagined that visiting a place this beautiful would be such a headache.”

He came to stand next to me. Leaning forward so that his arms rested on the edge of the balcony, the entire side of his body made contact with mine. The heat radiating from him was soothing.

“It is beautiful here,” he said, looking at me, not the view. “Why is this trip so hard for you?”

I sighed, “I guess it’s not. I’m just being dramatic. I knew Liz way before she was famous. She and I had always talked about coming to Italy, about hiking and living close to nature. And this- this trip just shows how we have changed, thats all,” I said giving up. “And I hate all of her new friends.”

Sebastian laughed, “Well I’m gland that I’m Joe’s friend then.” I turned my head to look at him and he winked. Then he straightened up and pulled me into him, “is this okay?” He asked into my ear. I nodded silently, my stomach churning. “Well I think all her friends are jealous of you,” he continued to whisper in my ear, “know why?” I shook my head smiling a little as his words tickled my ear, “because they all want the natural grace and beauty that you have.”  

I moved to face him, his large muscled body trapping me against the balcony rail. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. He lowered his mouth to my neck as he pulled me closer to him. “Do you promise to come save me today if all those women don’t leave me alone?” He asked into my neck.

I squirmed at the sensation of his breath on me. “Of course Boo,” I said, patting his bottom in a playfully condescending voice.

He raised an eyebrow, “I think I like being your Boo,” he said moving from my neck to my lips, biting my lower lip playfully.

“Yea?” I replied.

“Mmmh,” was all he said.  

“Then as my Boo would you please explain to me what the hell ‘cocktail casual’ means?”

…

After a bit of debate, Sebastian had convinced me that my choice of attire was perfect and he just so happened to have a shirt that matched my outfit, so we arrived in the lobby in plenty of time to meet the rest of the group. Unsurprisingly, I did stand out, most of the women wearing very short dresses and tottering on stilettos, however, when I considered that the alternative was having to wear a short skirt and heels all day, I decided I was happy with my ensemble.

We were ushered into a small bus that would drive us out into the countryside. The inside was nice, but Italians have a very different sense of space than Americans, as demonstrated by the very small seats. Because I had dressed for comfort, I was better able to maneuver my way to the back seat, so I found myself wedged into the very back corner of the van seated next to one of the men in the party who was a talent manager or something and wouldn’t shut up about all the famous people he worked with.

On top of that Sebastian was two rows in front of me, surrounded by needy looking women who were sitting too close to him and thrusting their scantily covered chests towards him.

Finally the bus stopped at a sprawling villa on the side of a mountain. I was antsy to get out both because of the view and because I was quite nauseous after all of the switchbacks we took to get up here.

The day was average, there were some speeches, a few games, lunch, and then drinks. During all of this I had noticed several footpaths that led into the surrounding countryside. As the group broke up into social clusters I slipped away, making a b-line towards a path that I was hoping would take me along the crest of the mountain to reveal more lovely views.

“Wait Michelle!” A voice called from behind me. I turned to see Sebastian scampering behind me, his jacket discarded and a few buttons undone on his shirt. Catching up to me he stopped, “may I join you?”

We followed the overgrown trail for several minutes, finally the brush gave way to a beautiful bald overlooking a valley that reflected gold and red in the low afternoon sun. I turned to Sebastian and found him looking at me. “What?” I asked.

“I want to kiss you,” he said simply. So I closed the gap between us and my lips met his hungrily. We pressed against each other desperately like we couldn’t get close enough to each other. Our breathing grew heavy and I got the sense that we were both wearing too many clothes, so with all my strength I pulled away from him. He let out a little whine and showed me his puppy dog eyes.

“I think we need to cool off a bit,” I said shakily. “If I take this thing off now then it’s not going back on,” I said gesturing to my romper. Sebastian nodded in defeat and took my hand as we walked back to the group.

…

As the afternoon turned to evening other guests of the the bride and groom arrived and the sweetness of the afternoon faded as my world went on repeat. I watched one woman after another try her luck with the dashing Sebastian Stan while I kept to myself, drinking alone. I wasn’t upset at Sebastian, I wasn’t really sure what to do with our short dalliance, was it just born out of convenience? Is it just something to pass the time on this miserable trip? No, what bothered me was watching the entitlement in the way these women acted. They knew they were beautiful or young or well connected and so they approached with confidence, but had very little to contribute to the conversation, literally “what you see is what you get.”

“Ah,” came a voice from over my shoulder, “you are the friend from Louisiana right? The one who Lizzy grew up with?” I turned to see a nice looking young man in a dark suit standing behind me.

“Who’s asking?” I said.

“Hi, I’m Dan, I’m a friend of Lizzy from LA.” He held out his hand, I took it, and in stepping closer I also noticed the alcohol on his breath and the slight waver in his voice. It had been a while since he was sober.

“Nice to meet you, Dan,” I said. He leaned into me slightly, as if he couldn’t keep his feet under him.

“Hey, do you wanna dance? Lizzy said you are a good da-dancer?” He said, hiccuping.

“Maybe in a bit, big guy,” I said, motioning to a waiter for a bottle of water.

“No, you look like you are here for- for a good time. Lets take this back to- back to my place.” He was too drunk to be intimidating but he was quite tall and I found it difficult to shift his weight away from me. Indeed he was very close to toppling over and taking me with him when suddenly his weight was no longer draped over me. Getting my bearings I looked behind me to see Sebastian helping, if a little roughly, to get Dan into a chair.

I didn’t think much of it, but I was surprised Sebastian had gotten to me so quickly. When some other guys came over to take care of the very sloppy and probably soon to be puking Dan, I turned my attention to Seb. He had moved to stand next to me and wound his arm around my waist protectively. “Thanks for the assist,” I said lightly. To my surprise, Sebastian didn’t think it was funny.

“Why don’t those kind of guys ever know when to stop?” He growled, his hand still firmly at my waist.

I turned to face him. “Hey, I appreciate the Feminist outrage, but I was okay, I didn’t feel intimidated by him like the guys in the bar yesterday.” I put a hand on his chest, waiting for him to slow his breathing. Finally he looked down at me.

“I think I was just jealous of your attention,” he said sheepishly.

“Well why the hell didn’t you come over here sooner, I’ve had to watch women fawn over you all evening,” I said with a little pout.

“But I thought you were gonna come save me.”

“I don’t compete with other women!” I said in a whispered yell, turning my back to him. I avoided him, embarrassed and feeling a little too tender after such a long day. Gently he twisted me back to face him. I didn’t resist, I did want to be with him here, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. Carefully, and slowly he tilted my head up till I held his gaze, then he brushed his lips against mine, holding them there just long enough for chills to run down my body and my breathing to quicken before pulling away. I moaned in frustration.

“You aren’t competing with anyone.” With that taste of drama that actors tend to have naturally, he pulled me into the light, closer to the music, and we danced. It was sensuous and romantic. We stayed close together, his nose buried in the side of my neck, my head laying on his chest as we moved in a slow circle. His hands would stray low sometimes, but I would pull them back up so they rested on my hips, and he would chuckle each time.

As the event wrapped up, we walked back to the vehicles together. And as if we had passed some invisible test, everyone left us alone, letting us sit together and talking around us.

Back at the hotel I paused to chat with Liz while Sebastian helped Joe out with something for the ceremony the next day. “OMG, I knew you two would be good together!” Liz gushed.

“Wait, did you do the room thing on purpose?” I asked.

She looked up at the ceiling, “I will not reveal my tricks, but just know that if you two are still together in a year I am so claiming that I set you up.” I rolled my eyes.

I made my way back to our room but was stopped by one of the pretty blonde women in the wedding party. “You are Lizzie’s friend from back home right?” She asked in a valley girl accent I thought had to be a joke. Thinking she had some scheme about the wedding tomorrow, I told her that, yes, I was her childhood friend. “Then what the hell do you think you are doing flirting with someone like Sebastian Stan?” She demanded, serious outrage in her face. I was startled, not expecting this little outburst.

I looked her over again, her makeup was looking a little fuzzy and I could smell vodka on her breath as she teetered on stilettos and pulled her dress down each time it slipped a little too high up her thighs. Before I could respond she continued, “I mean, look at you. You are at least a size ten, no make up, you are wearing flats for Christ sakes.” She gasped like it was the end of the world. “You have no idea the women who are interested in him. Models, actresses, I heard one of the Kardashians even made a pass at him. This is the big leagues little girl. You need to stay in your lane.” In parting she gave me a little push that I thought was more likely to have her on the floor than me.

I laughed uncomfortably as I made it back to the room. Sebastian was there, sprawled on the bed, his torso bare, a pair of navy joggers seated low on his waist. He looked like a snack. And all of a sudden I could only hear the words of that woman. I must have stood there too long cause Seb spoke up. “What did Liz do? Did she change something at the last minute? You look really distracted.”

“Oh,” I said, “Nothing, she didn’t change anything.” I turned away from him and reached behind my back to undo the top of my romper. Sebastian’s hands grasped mine and put them to my sides as he undid the ties, his fingers lingering on my skin. “Sebastian is this just for tonight?” I asked, biting my lip after the words left my mouth.

“Uh, I guess it can be, why?” He replied, his tone measured. I continued to stand with my back to him, needing the space to say this.

“I- I just don’t know how this would work with you being so mobile. I don’t want you to feel like this has to go beyond this trip.” I cut myself off, feeling like I was whining.

“Actually, I am kinda interested in making this work for a longer time. Where are you from? Louisiana? The long distance thing might be a challenge but I’d like to give it a go.” I gulped loudly, my arms and legs felt weak.

“Are- are you sure?” I pressed, feeling like I was in a dream.

“Have I overstepped?” He responded with a concerned look on his face. I shook my head fiercely.

“No, but why me? All those women who are prettier than me, they get the world you come from, you have so many options.”

I had moved away from him now, feeling exposed as I spoke, but he closed the gap between us. Pulling me into him, he gripped me tightly, protectively.

“I don’t want anyone else. You are intelligent, confident, beautiful. No one else has those things.”

I sank into him and felt a sob escape from my lips. A hand grasped the back of my head and pulled me in tight to his chest. I shook a bit with a few more sobs but he was there with me. When I had calmed down I reached up and kissed him on the jaw.

Stepping away from me, he pulled a shirt on and I made a disappointed noise. Laughing he said, “Why don’t you change into something more comfortable, and we can go to the bar and make people jealous.” Rolling my eyes, I smiled.

…

As we approached the bar Sebastian grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers. There was a small group from the wedding party that was gathered at one end of the bar. One of the guys called us over so we joined them, greeting everyone in the group.  There was one available seat so I took it, Sebastian stood behind me and his hands lingered on my waist and hips. They were meeting to discuss a few last minute requests of the bride and groom, so I listened as attentively as I could with Sebastian’s warm breath tickling the back of my neck. The skinny woman who had trapped me in the hall earlier was staring daggers into us, but I just looked past her to the conversation happening.

After a few more minutes the conversation broke up. I noticed a few men pat Seb on the back as they left, our friend the skinny woman tottered off in a huff. I felt Sebastian shake a little as he chuckled. “That was more fun than I was expecting,” he said.

“Yea whatever, can we pleas go back to the room? It’s time for you to take your shirt off again.”

…

When we got to the room we both stripped to our underwear. We tumbled into the bed together, the playfulness of moments before leaving us quickly as we both let the exhaustion of the day settle in. Instead, we nestled into each other comfortable just to be with one another. I was laying on my back, Seb’s head resting on my chest. He clung to me, arms and legs wrapped tightly around me and thats when I realized we might actually have as shot.

…

It had been a month since the wedding. I sat nervously in the airport gripping my phone and my eyes glued to the arrivals screen above me. Finally I saw the word “arrived” appear in green next to his flight and soon after my phone pinged and it was a text from him saying he was on his way to baggage claim.

And then there he was.

In a tight t-shirt and joggers, his long legs brought him to me in a few quick strides. I brought him in close to me and squeezed him tight. “It’s been too long,” he said.

[fizzingwizard]

blast from the past but i remember as a teenager that I never understood how Gilmore Girls season six ended. It’s funny how time clears things up, I feel like I get it now.

My dad always says Lorelai is flaky and that’s why. I don’t really agree. Bear with me. I think Lorelai is a control freak. Out of necessity, kinda. She lived in that household that constantly tried to control her, and getting out of it was her asserting her independence of their expectations. That meant she was a single mom starting with very little and working her way up to create a life of freedom for herself and her daughter.

The show itself is all about Lorelai struggling with giving bits of her control away. It begins with her giving some control of her relationship with her parents back to them when she needs to ask for money for Rory’s school. Then, of course, little by little, her control over Rory erodes as Rory gets older. (Not that Lorelai was a controlling parent - she valued freedom, not bossiness - but that’s just the parent-child dynamic: to some extent parents do control things because kids are still learning how to take care of and protect themselves. It certainly shouldn’t go farther than those basics and I don’t think it did for Lorelai - but she still felt it whenever Rory did something that was contrary to what Lorelai would have wanted. It’s also why “You sound like your mother” was a truly insulting barb to her lol)

In the meantime, she’s not only risen to being in charge of the inn, but she even goes and opens her own inn business with Sookie. Total independence. She dated Max, but balked when he wanted to know what his role would be in Rory’s life and realized she wasn’t ready to share control of their life with him. She dated Digger who to me always seemed the type way too set in his own ways for her, so I wasn’t sad to see him go. Finally she dated Luke, we all knew it would happen, but the question was always would these two very independent types be able to make it work any better than they had in the past? Because Luke’s also always gone his own way. The things both he and Lorelai had going for them was chemistry and similar values. And of course the show seemed to be rooting for them from season one :P

So while Lorelai and Luke are together, there are a number of control-related problems that crop up. We mainly see Luke give in to Lorelai. It’s never anything damaging - these are small things that are important to her, but still small, and he gives them to her out of love, not because she demands it. She does make concessions to him as well, but they’re mostly off screen (like the purple wallpaper thing). And the thing with the Twickum House... on the surface, it look like Lorelai crapped on Luke’s dream for the house because she selfishly wanted to keep her own, buuuuut he bought it without asking or telling her, and she has a right to not want to live there same as he has a right not to want to live in her place. Fortunately, he was cool with living in her place if it was expanded. So they did that. Look, a compromise!

So basically they get over every hurdle that could compromise their individual needs to feel in control of their lives... until April. April is Luke’s thing. It’s not his fault he didn’t know about her for twelve years and it’s to his credit that he wanted to be a part of her life after the fact. While I’m not super fond of season 7, I always felt it was weird that season 6 Luke never seemed angry that Anna didn’t tell him about April. It doesn’t seem like Anna had a reason to think he’d be violent or controlling of her or their child, she just thought he didn’t like kids much. That’s not a reason. People often don’t like other people’s kids but adore their own. Anyway.

Luke doesn’t want Lorelai involved with April because he’s the type to take his time with things. He needs his space. So he needs time and space to adjust to the concept of April and get to know her and feel confident of his own role as a father. He’s also a bit jealous of Lorelai’s easy rapport with people, especially young girls, but I think that’s minor in comparison to the other reasons. And Lorelai understands those things and lets him control how things go with April. Allowing him that control, though, means he’s also in control of other things: when they get married, for one, and what his relationship with Lorelai is. i think she has reason to be upset about how he didn’t make an effort to involve her in things with April (like, I definitely get that April’s mom was concerned about who was in April’s life but everyone else in the town got to meet April, there’s no reason Lorelai couldn’t have met her now and then as a townie rather than Luke’s fiancee, as long as Luke was physically there as well)

So I can see why Lorelai blew up after the wedding was postponed indefinitely (even though, if we’re talking real life, it hadn’t been all that long). She felt she’d finally found someone she felt comfortable sharing her life with, but then he started to need more patience and submission from her than she was comfortable giving. Up till then in her life, waiting for things just meant she waited while other people got what they want. To get what she wanted, she had to go take it, consequences be damned. So she takes the same route with Luke as she has with everything else in her life: she makes her own decision and lets him figure out how or if he wants to fit in with it, rather than the other way around.

In terms of whether she really needed to go that far at that point... It’s hard, rewatching it, not to feel like a sudden ultimatum in the street when you’re highly emotional is not the way to decide to break up with someone. She should have been willing to talk later, when he came back. I mean, he came back twice. But relationships are rarely about should haves. People aren’t perfect. Lorelai’s the type who rips the bandaid off fast because it may hurt more, but slow hurts longer. When she’s out, she’s out. And I think I get it in the sense that the two of them had, in canon, built up how serious their relationship was VERY fast - like from their first official date - and that comes with all kinds of expectations. The higher they climb the harder they fall. So, yeah, I think things could have been fixed the next day when Luke came back, but I do think it’s Lorelai-ish to not be willing to fix them.

There was a great bit of foreshadowing just prior where Liz and TJ have a fight and it’s due to Liz’s trauma scaring her away, and Luke is the one who goes to TJ, tells him it’s not his fault, but that in a relationship sometimes people can’t say how they really feel and that’s when you have to try to understand them out of love etc (something like that lol). He saw it clearly with Liz and TJ but wasn’t ready for it with Lorelai. Lorelai’s fear of commitment, the way she values her independence, her history with relationships gone sour, it all came to a head and Luke’s preference to take time to sort things out and decide how he feels couldn’t cope with it. It’s not that Luke was wrong. He’s entitled to be the type who needs time. But it’s not that Lorelai was wrong either. They weren’t wrong individually, but they were wrong together. It could have been avoided, but people aren’t perfect.

I still hate that they broke up and we had to spend season 7 with Christopher, but at least they got back together in the end. Season 7, man... The above is how I feel about season 6, but I think if I knew season 7 wouldn’t have the same producers, I’d never be on board with ending season 6 with such an explosion. No way could the season 7 team pick up from there without being absolutely ridiculous about it.

A Year in the Life picks up with Lorelai and Luke still together, living in her house, but not married. These days lots of people partner up but don’t get married and that’s fine - real commitment isn’t something that a piece of paper decides. But it was also kinda sad because I think every Gilmore Girls fan looked forward to Lorelai and Luke’s wedding. So I really enjoyed that AYITL dealt with that - and also dealt with the way Luke usually lets Lorelai decide various things, and that she becomes self-conscious about it, wondering if her strength of will has meant he had to give up things he wanted. He takes his time - he’s Luke, after all - but eventually he figures out how to tell her. He’s his own man. He’s independent. He lets her make decisions about things he’s okay with her making decisions on. If he really didn’t like her choice, he’d say something. Basically, you don’t have to worry about Luke. He’s strong enough for himself, and he’s strong enough for her. And vice versa. That’s why they’re a good couple. It’s when they give in to doubt that things get shaky. And then we finally got our very pretty wedding. I loved that scene and I loved the song that played (which was also used in Liz and TJ’s wedding, I believe).

Emily, of course, is just as much a control freak as her daughter even if she doesn’t realize it, but I loved how in AYITL, the way she asserts her herself is no longer in the context of the role she feels she needs to play and becomes about choosing what her path will be. She’s as “eccentric” as Lorelai, if eccentric means being yourself and doing what makes you happy. *eye roll* That’s why I don’t agree with my dad that Lorelai is flaky... I do see where it comes from but I always just thought she’s not bound by what other people think she should be. That’s hardly eccentric, it’s just strong.

And I wish we had some sort of follow up for the last four lines... I’d read a Gilmore Girls novel as a sequel if the show can’t come back again.

[ohshit-itsyagorl]

Four Dipshits and a Michelle

Part 1 

Hey, Loves! This is a fanfiction I’ve been working on recently. Hope you like it!

Summary: Michelle never believed in soulmates. But what happens when she turns seventeen and gets her mark? What happens when she inevitably finds the person with the matching tattoo? And what is she supposed to do with Peter Parker. Her best friend in the whole world. Her crush. Someone she feels drawn to for some inexplicable reason.

Michelle Jones never understood the infatuation human society had with soulmates.

As a little girl full of hopes and dreams, she admits she was rather fond of the idea: someone out there who was perfect for her, someone who she could share her life with, her soul-bonded partner.

Until her mom got sick. And her dad started treating his wife like his own personal punching bag and then left them with barley enough money to get by. And that sucked, but Michelle could deal with it. She really could.

(But she was not okay.)

But after that initial honeymoon phase, after seeing a relationship that was supposedly written in the cosmos fall apart, she was wrenched back to a sad, logical reality.

After giving up on her soulmate, she found it grating how often it came up in seemingly normal discussion.

This, Michelle thought, was rather ridiculous, considering they were all freshman in high school, and wouldn’t be turning 17 for at least two years, three for most of them.

When she woke up on the morning of February 27th, she was not expecting the day to be anything special or different.

Trudging to the bathroom, half asleep with hair in her mouth, she thought she might pass out. Damn her for opting to take the PCB (physics, then chemistry, then biology) route instead of being normal like almost every other kid at Midtown Tech.

The only bonus to PCB was that she had the same kids in her science class every year. Betty and Cindy and Ned and Peter. The only downside was Flash, who was insufferable on the very best of days. He was also on the PCB track.

(Ugh.)

Point was, Michelle had stayed up super late the previous night studying for a massive test with Peter and Ned, and she was absolutely exhausted.

(Physics could be a bitch sometimes.)

“Hey, Sweetie, how did you sleep?” Her mom was laying on the couch, nose shoved into her book, right arm hooked up to an IV. When Michelle didn’t answer immediately, she looked up and let out a soft oh. “Rough night?” She asked.

Michelle sighed. “Yeah. Big test today. Studied with the losers last night.”

“Well, good luck, honey.” MJ started walking toward the door. “Oh, and, Michelle? Don’t call your friends losers.”

Michelle ran a hand through her hair, the chocolate curls a tangled mess perched atop her head.

————————————————————

“Hey, MJ.” Michelle looked up to see Peter waving at her, toothy grin and glasses and a dark blue sweater. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. Too early, Idiot.

Physics went as well as could be expected. Lunch was a different story.

“I can’t wait,” Betty said dreamily. “I wonder what they’ll look like.”

“I wonder what my soulmark will be,” Ned said, looking up from his English notes. “With my luck, it’ll be worse than that senior with a foot tattooed down the right side of his face.”

Michelle snorted. “Yeah, maybe it’ll be a giant dick or something.”

“Maybe yours’ll be a unicorn, MJ. You know, to match your personality,” Ned fired back.

She stiffened, looking around at the group. ‘‘I don’t want a soulmate,” she muttered.

“What? Why not?” Cindy exclaimed, her eyes almost comically wide.

Peter looked up at that. His glasses had fallen down his nose considerably, and he shoved them back up his face. Dork.

Michelle shrugged. “I just don’t. They’re pointless.”

“Well,” Peter started, “maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, Parker.”

“Tell that to your soul-bonded partner.”

A soft chorus of oohs echoed from the Table around her. She needed new friends.

“Whatever. Even if I find my soulmate, I’ll just avoid them like the plague. Shouldn’t be that hard with all my practice when it comes to you lot.”

Peter let out a small uh-huh, and went back to whatever the hell it was he was doing.

It wasn’t like she and Peter didn’t argue. As best friends, it was kind of part of the job description. But Peter and Ned already knew how she felt about soulmates and soulmarks. Michelle was surprised he had pushed her on that front. Weird.

She cleared her throat.

—————————————————————

Sophomore year rolled around, and with it came Academic Decathlon. Michelle befriended Liz almost immediately. She was so nice, and perfect, and smart.

About halfway through the year after a field trip for AcaDec, Peter missed school for over a week. Something about catching a bug on the trip. On day 10, Michelle went to his apartment.

May opened the door. “Oh, hey, MJ! Peter is in his room. He’ll be glad to see you,” she said, a smile gracing her face.

Michelle walked past May with a small nod of acknowledgement. When she entered Peter’s room, she was fairly surprised to see that he, in fact, did actually look very sick. He was on the floor covered in sweat and shaking.

“Ohmigod, Peter! Are you okay?”

“Oh, MJ. Didn’t know you cared. How sweet of you,” he managed through chattering teeth.

“I don’t, Loser. Here,” Michelle leaned down, “let me help you to your bed.”

“No!” Peter scrambled backward over a pile of schoolwork, the pages sticking to his hands. The sweat, probably, thought Michelle

She quirked an eyebrow.

“I, uh—I don’t want to get you sick, is all,” he explained.

“Whatever, Loser,” she said. “I brought you your schoolwork, so… here you go.” She dropped the stack onto his unoccupied bed, spared Peter one more glance, shrugged, and turned to walk out of the room.

“MJ, wait. Thank you, for, uh, for the schoolwork.”

She flipped him off on the way out the door. Weirdo.

Peter started changing after that. He started filling out his shirts more. She figured he had started working out or something.

Not that she was looking at him. Because she wasn’t.

He no longer wore glasses, and dropped out of marching band and robotics club. He disappeared at nationals, showing up only for the ride home after the fiasco at the Washington Monument (of all the times to gain a rebellious streak AcaDec nationals was not the time or the place). Michelle glared at him nonstop for a week after that.

People started avoiding the topic of soulmates and soulmarks around her, knowing it was a touchy subject.

Over the course of the year, Michelle grew closer to Peter and Ned than the other kids in Acadec.

—————————————————————

“MJ?” Peter looked back at her from where he was squatting down in front of the DVD player. He was wearing sweats and a math pun t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest. His arms across his legs were lithe and muscled. How had she never noticed before…

And she was staring. Michelle blushed furiously. Peter smirked. She flipped him off. He chuckled.

“What do you want?” She asked. His hair was gelled back like every day, but it was a bit mussed, falling onto his forehead. Her blood heated. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, wondered how soft it would be.

Peter ran a hand through said hair, biting his lip. “Have you—uh—have you ever seen The Princess Bride?” He asked.

MJ rolled her eyes. This boy. “Bits and pieces. I was never really interested in that mushy, gushy, sappy shit. Besides, we are not watching that.”

“Uh, yeah, we are. It’s simply tragic how your previous social circle failed you,” he said, scrunching his nose up. It was cute annoying.

Michelle squinted at him, mouth becoming a thin line. He smiled back innocently. She flipped him off. Again.

She relented in the end.

Peter hopped up next to where she was sitting, stretching his arms up and over the back of the couch. Michelles’s eyes snagged on the bit of exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up. Were those… abs? She shook her head, looking back toward the now-glowing TV screen. Her nerdy best friend Peter Parker could not have abs. But.

Michelle had to admit that the movie wasn’t actually as bad as she had initially thought. The reason for that was mostly Peter. The absolute dweeb was acting out the fight scenes with himself. Watching Peter try and punch and defend himself at the same time was pretty funny.

MJ looked over at Peter during the end of the movie. He was looking at her.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” He blurted, then proceeded to clap a hand over his mouth. “Shit, I’m sorry. You really, uh, really don’t have to answer that.”

And maybe it was the laughter they had shared together. Maybe it was the way she felt safe around him, or how his hair curled behind his ears, but, “My parents were soulmates. It—it didn’t work out."

That was all she was willing to share.

Peter nodded, swallowing thickly and looking back to the movie. “I think Ned’s right,” he said. Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat, “Your soulmark is definitely going to be a unicorn. Or a pegasus. Or a rainb—”

“Shut up, Parker.”

Peter raised his hands defensively, grinning.

They talked for another hour, but Peter couldn’t seem to drop the conversation about soulmates.

“Hey, MJ?” He said, giving her a curious look.

Michelle hummed.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. With all the posing while acting out the movie, it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Maybe even just had—

No. Best friend. Peter was her best friend. Nothing more.

“On your birthday,” he ventured, “when you get your mark, will you tell me about it? We could, like, make fun of each other’s or something. Once I get mine, that is.”

Michelle hesitated. Then: “Sure, okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Peter beamed at her and her heart did a backflip. It was worth talking about her soulmark to see that smile, different from his usually timid upturned lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Awesome! What are best friends for if not to make fun of shit,” he said.

Best friend. The words stung a bit, even if they were true.

-----------------------------------------------------

Junior year came faster than any of them expected, and with it, standardized testing. Michelle was sad that Liz had moved away the year prior when her dad was caught selling alien technology illegally, but she was excited to be team captain this year. She, Peter, and Ned had all celebrated with aLord of the Rings movie marathon, but over the past few months, Peter and Ned had been sharing hushed conversations. MJ wasn’t sure what was going on, but it made her feel kind of shitty—like she was being pushed out of their friend group.

But then Peter would shoot her a shy smile, and she would feel a little better. There was definitely something going on, though.

Betty got her mark over the summer—a small cat’s eye in the palm of her left hand—but she had had no luck finding the person with the matching tattoo, much to her chagrin.

Michelle truly felt like she was rocketing toward her birthday. Somehow, she and Peter had found a way to turn her soulmate into a bit of a joke, which helped. A little.

That’s how Michelle found herself on the phone with Peter, wearing a tank top and shorts in the middle of winter, watching the seconds tick down to midnight.

“I’m so excited,” Peter said over the phone. “I can’t wait to see if it’s a unicorn or a pegasus.”

“Can it, Parker,” Michelle snapped. She was strangely terrified, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Okay, Magic Princess Unicorn—”

“I mean it, Pete.”

“Ten seconds, MJ.”

“Shit,” she whispered, hands shaking as she hastily put Peter on speaker, and set down the phone, turning to face the floor-length mirror.

“Do you see anything?” He asked. Did he sound… nervous?

Michelle scanned her arms and legs in the mirror, turned around and did the same on the back. “Fuck.”

“What?” Peter said, voice crackling over the phone. “What is it? Is it a Unicorn?”

“No,” Michelle gasped out. “I don’t see anything.”

It was true she didn’t want anything to do with her soulmate, but it did hurt that she didn’t even have one.

She let out a sob, then slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“MJ—MJ, calm down. It’s probably just somewhere else. Try taking your clothes off.” Michelle felt her toes curl into the carpet, her breath hitched. “Fuck,” Peter said. “I didn’t mean it like that—fuck, that came out wrong.”

You don’t need to apologize, Michelle thought. Instead, she nodded, then, realizing he couldn’t see her over the phone, she cleared her throat and said, “No, I get it—what you meant, I mean.” She cringed, Christ, she was absolutely horrible at this. “God, I hope it’s not on my ass.”

Peter let out a bark of laughter. Michelle smiled, then remembered her situation, frowned.

“Stop frowning, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” Peter said.

Michelle frowned deeper. “How do you know I’m frowning?”

“I know you, MJ. Now stop frowning. There’s only one way to know if you have a tattoo on your ass,” Peter said, choking on the last word. “Just check.”

Michelle loosed a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right.”

She turned back toward the mirror, reaching for the waistband of her shorts and underwear, pulling them both down at the same time. Nothing on the front. She shimmied around a bit, before giving in and stepping out of her shorts. She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Nothing.

She took off her tank top next, checking her back first, since she was already facing in that direction. Still nothing. She turned around and ran her fingers over her stomach. Nothing there, either. Goddammit.

She slowly reached back to unclasp her bra and let it slide down her arms. “Mother fucker,” she said quietly.

She’s not sure how, but Peter heard her. “MJ? What’s the status? Did you find it?”

“Yeah, I did. And I fucking hate the universe.” She hissed.

Peter laughed nervously. “Well, what is it? Where is it?”

“Like hell I’m telling you!” MJ screeched.

“C’mon, Michelle, we had a deal!” Peter said. She could picture him laying down in bed, then sitting up abruptly, hair mussed like that night they had watched The Princess bride together. And that strip of skin she’d glimpsed and—fuck, she was thinking about him while she was naked.

“Peter, I literally had to take all my clothes off just to find it. I am not telling you about this ever. God, this is so humiliating.” Michelle looked in the mirror again and winced. Staring back a her was her naked body, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, curls coming down over her breasts. She moved her hair out of the way to get a better look at her mark, and… there it was. A fist-size black spider sitting in the middle of her left breast, right over her nipple. She groaned, burying her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Oh, c’mon, M. It can’t be that bad,” Peter said.

“It’s bad, Pete,” Michelle sighed. “Well, at least this way my soulmate won’t be able to see my mark.”

Michelle stroked a finger over one of the spider’s legs and shivered. Peter swore over the phone.

“What?” Michelle asked.

“Nothing,” Peter said, though his voice was shaky. “Just got a shiver. That’s what I get for not wearing a shirt.

This boy.

And now she was picturing him shirtless. Fuck. With that mussed-up hair. Double-fuck. She looked down to find that the hand near her breast had grabbed on, kneading the soft flesh. Holy mother of god, an infinite amount of fucks. But it felt good. Really good. She let out a quiet moan.

“MJ? What’s going on, are you okay?” How the ever-living hell did Peter keep hearing her? She could barely hear herself.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she managed. Thankfully she sounded normal, if not a little breathy. “Just a little messed up after seeing the mark, you know? I wasn’t expecting to feel so… attached to it.” Because that’s what it was, she realized. She could already feel her connection to someone else, and she hated herself for loving it, for craving that sensation to be stronger.

“Okay. We should probably both go to sleep anyway,” Peter said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” He sounded worried, but he was willing to give her space. That was one of the things she valued most about their friendship.

“Yeah,” Michelle said. Then, when she heard him start to shift, presumably on his bed (God help her), she interrupted, “and, Peter?” He hummed in response. “Put a shirt on. It’s cold out.”

He grunted. “Yeah, will do, M.”

Somehow Michelle got the feeling he wasn’t going to put on a shirt. Idiot.

Part 2

[yououghtaknow]

skam brighton season 5 music analysis

hello :) i’ve gone through all the songs on previous seasons of skam brighton and explained why i used them and i thought i would do it for season 5 now that it’s over.

tw for disucssion of addiction, racism, pedophilia, transphobia and homophobia

trailer

we begin with a bang with “don’t blame me” by taylor swift. now it has been said about me that i am a swiftie and it is true. and nick braxton is a reputation era bitch. this song has quite literally it all for nick’s character - we got christian themes, reference to drug addiction and an unhealthy devotion to someone. this trailer has gone through many songs to find the perfect one, but i decided on this one because of the themes, and also because of the line “they say she’s gone too far this time” - which, in regards to nick, can be read in many ways. we got the nick going “too far” with his love for james in subtly trying to break liz and james up, nick and their drug addiction, and nick and their relationship with their gender identity - going too far in both the masculine and feminine directions. also it bangs your honour.

episode one

we!! begin!! with!! saturday night’s alright for fighting by sir elton john!!! because it is saturday night and, as we’vee seen, nick isn’t afraid to get into a fight or two. this song specifically was chosen because of the movie rocketman, which i drew a lot of inspiration from, with the themes of drug addiction and sexuality. also, once again, it simply slaps.

we then get “ymca” by the village people playing in the background over the rest of the party scene. i chose this song because it is a very stereotypically gay song, and a lot of what i wanted nick to deal with was self-perception in regards to stereotypes. he is very stereotypically flamboyant because it’s both the way he is and a defensive mechanism - leading to his bisexuality being erased and being seen as gay a lot of the time. he ‘s pretty much the opposite in regards to his asian identity, with him not being academically intelligent and outspoken and being very british in their speaking patterns. it’s about the balance and duality and all that stuff. 

then, as we are formally introduced to nick’s devotion to james, we get “where dreams go to die” by john grant. thank you to my friend katya for recommeding this song as a nick song because it is just. crazy. every line makes me want to scream. especially “this is like a well-oiled machine / could i please see that smile again? / it's all that makes me feel like i am living in this world”. like that just shows the extent of nick’s love - because sometimes you’re just in love with the idea of being saved rather than seeking help. is that poetic or am i just pretentiously talking about my trauma? who knows.

we then get “overprotected” by britney spears - because britney has been a nick staple the whole series. i first heard the song in the musical & juliet and i was immediately like “oh nick core”. the song opens with: “ i need time (time) / love (love), joy (joy) / i need space (love) / i need me (action!) / say hello to the girl that i am / you're gonna have to see through my perspective”. because we are literally seeing from nick’s perspective. i also wanted to introduce the gender dynamics early - including in the trailer, where nick refers to themself with she/her pronouns - and her nick is referred to in the text of the song as a girl. it’s also a very sad song about not having any control over your life with a fun pop backing track, which is very nick braxton.

we then get another party scene, that opens with “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” (by ariana grande) covered by sam fender. i chose this song because 1) i love the cover and 2) god is it a nick song. literally nick has so many wants (to be loved by their family, to get sober, to succeed in school, to explore their gender freely) but he focuses on wanting james and wanting james to leave liz because there are less achievable and thus safer. also the song fucking slaps.

we close with “happy little pill” by troye sivan, a mlm classic. a staple of 2014. i chose this song because 1) drug in title, easy get, and 2) it’s actually a really good song???? it’s about the dissociation. it’s very similar to the scene with bree in season 4 episode 1 where “chandelier” plays as she’s clearly not doing well but she’s pretending for the sake of her friends. nick and bree are narrative foils and i love them.

episode two

the first song of episode 2 is “be great” by lolandre and jeremy pope after we see nick and his dad’s dynamic for the first time. and it’s really something huh. it’s about how christian does want nick to be great, but christian has a very narrow idea of what success and happiness looks like.

the next bit of media we get in this episode is nick watching the first episode of euphoria. when preparing to write various seasons of skam brighton, i watched a lot of teen dramas to get a good feel for the vibe i was going for. euphoria was one of them and it’s a show i have a lot of mixed feelings for - i think it’s very well crafted and extremely interesting but i also do have issues with the sexualisation of teenagers on screen, even if it is mostly realistic. i chose this scene specifically because nick and rue are very similar characters, in regards to their relationships with their parents (i believe nick is more of a jules kinnie but more on that later). they both just want to be a good kid and make them happy, but they can never seem to do it. gia, rue’s younger sister, is also a parallel to nick’s brothers.

we then get “old eden” by honeywater which is just simply a song i like very much that had the vibes of the scene. also the lines “i want love / but i don't just want love, i want you / i see the beach house, your sweet mouth / but the terrible news / is that love is not how it seems on the screen / yeah, real love has problems / but it's what's in-between that's the best” is simply just nick braxton huh. ambiguous disorder.

we then get “generation why” by conan gray as nick storms out of their house after a fight with their parents. i chose it very simply for the vibes because i only listened to this song once and thought “i do not wish to listen to this in my free time but it is a nick braxton time”. it’s just the angsty indie pop main character walking down the street vibes.

we!!! end!!! with!!! a song i love very much - “sex drive” by austin mckenzie of dwsa fame. this song plays over nick getting “rejected” by james and resorting to grindr to feed their want for human affection - which is where the parallels to ms jules euphoria come from. i chose this song specifically because it begins with the lines “who’s driving?” on repeat, which calls into question who is in control in the scenario. as seen on screen, nick is the one who initiates the “date” but, at the end of the day, nick is an underage teenager and the person he’s on a date with is an adult man. also the song is simply a fun bisexual time.

episode three

we open with “hurricane drunk” by florence and the machine, a song that has been decidedly nick core since 2018. like “i’m in the grip of a hurricane / i’m going to blow myself away”...... nick braxton you crazy little person

“yours” by greyson chance plays over nick and james driving out to the woods to skip school together….. it is quite insane. “no matter who i'm with, it's you that i adore / if you're not sure / baby, i'm yours” like i scream and shout nick braxton has always been in love with the concept of james cohen

“myrtle ave.” by mxmtoon plays as nick is feeling isolated from his friends…. like they just vibe with the song and the lyrics so hard. nick is just. i have no words other than i love them.

we close with “st jimmy” by green day because. goddammit isn’t he. like james just comes out as bisexual (just like st jimmy in american idiot the broadway musical) and nick is like “you are like a saint to me, i worship you, i will do anything for you”. like it’s a song about drug addiction but it’s also about being bisexual but it’s also about the performance of masculinity and the performance of being a “rebel” that james and nick both do i love them so much.

episode four

we begin with “lucy in the sky with diamonds” by the beatles. i do not listen to the beatles but i think the song is about drugs and the beatles is a james cohen band in canon so it has the connotations babey.

we then get “seventeen” by troye sivan as nick goes on grindr to seek out adult men. it’s genuinely such a nick song - once again, the fun poppy music in the background and the deeply upsetting lyrics. also, as in season 4, i chose this song to emphasise the fact that nick is seventeen and a minor and should not be doing these activities.

we then get “dancing on my own” by robyn as we’re at the vaguely halloween-esque party. it’s once again about the boppy music and sad lyrics and like. nick voice i’m in the corner watching you kiss her ohhhhhh i’m right over here why can’t you see me ohhhhhhh i’m giving it my all but i’m not the guy you’re taking home ooooh i keep dancing on my own. like he’s fucking insane (he is both me and nick)

and then!!!! we get a scene very personal to me. nick watching rocky horror for the first time at a shadowcast showing and watching “the time warp”. i first saw rocky horror when i was about 10/11 because i saw it on glee and wanted to watch the real movie and it made me so so transgender and homosexual. it is such a non-binary little movie and the time warp is just an absolute bop. 

it’s followed by a brief showing of “sweet transvestite” because tim curry in that movie is such an experience for anyone involved. like oh to be gender questioning nick braxton and to see that. what a fucking experience. and also to be gender questioning 11 year old me and to see that and then find out my school is doing a kidz bop version of rocky horror. fucking insane transgender times.

we close with “cecily smith” by will connolly as milo and nick walk home together because. it is just such a sweet song. like life is not the things that we do it’s who we’re doing them with. and it is a very nickmilo song and i am the president of nickmilo nation. i love a non-binary romance i do i do i do.

episode five

we open with “halloween” by phoebe bridgers because it is literally halloween. insane. but it is also such a nick braxton song like come on man we can be anything…… nick braxton voice i’ll be whatever you want…… it’s about the people pleasing and the desire to be wanted and needed loved and goodness gracious. also nick braxton fig faeth kinnie for this song specifically.

and then!!!!! we get nick dramatically singing “girl crush” by the harry styles version in his bathroom mirror. because goddammit they do have a girl crush. it’s about the gender and the desire to both be with james and to be liz becausenick is non-binary babey……..

and then!!!!! in such a parallel!!!!! we get milo singing “inner white girl” from a strange loop on their instagram live. “a strange loop” was a big inspiration for this season, with very similar themes fo it (you should listen to it right now) and this song….. quite genuinely we have nick singing a song about wanting to be a white girl and then they hear this song….. like nick does cling to his inner white girl as a way of staying safe - they cling to the safe idea of mlm flamboyancy and humour to hide from their genuine emotions and gender……. like it is insane to me. also white girls can do anything can’t they!!!!!!!

we then get “the people who raised me” by gregory and the hawks after nick has a fight with their parents…. “but i won't mind no time spent to save me / just trying to be good to the people who raised me” literally nick is trying his best to be good but he can’t be and that makes him angry!!!!!! but that anger is born out of a deep, deep sadness that nick has no emotional language to express, but anger is a language he can speak and it is. insane. like it’s about masculinity, it’s about femininity, it’s about everything. fuck. 

we then get "search your heart" by george feeny as nick sadly vibes at school…. also this scene does parallel with the liz/mary scene in season 2 where their parents fight. like liz is shitty to her friends but stays for her sister and nick is great to his friends but leaves his brothers behind….. the range.

and then!!!! we get phoebe bridgers’ cover of “friday i’m in love” because it is friday and nick is in love huh.

and then!!!!!!!!!! a moment i have been building up to!!!!! we get “back to black” by ms amy winehouse after nick finds out james has a crush on alistair thee fletcher. and just like. god. this song has everything for nick. it’s a song about depression, addiction, leaving your lover, anger, bitterness, second choice ness….. and also he is literally going back to black with his hair colour!!!!! because he thinks being more masculine is what will make people love him and he views pink hair as un-masculine!!!!! and he’s also going back to his family, so he’s going back to trying to hide himself to fit into their expectations….. like god it is an insane little time.

episode six 

we open with “idk if i’m a boy” by blue foster - a song i got on my discover weekly and it was a deeply personal attack. like nick voice i don’t know if i’m a reject i don’t know if i’m a loser but i know that i’ve been feeling feminine since i’ve been teething…. and how the song uses humour as a way to cope with gender dysphoria like it’s nick bay bee.

we then get “green light” by lorde because god it is such a james/nick song i feel insane. like “did it frighten you / how we kissed when we danced on the light up floor?” because james and nick have canonically kissed many times before….. also lorde as an artist just has such intense nick vibes it’s so much fun

we then get "fluorescent adolescent" by arctic monkeys over a party scene because i’ve been told on the internet that it is a british teen party classic. unfortunately the rowdiest party i’ve ever been to is my cousin’s christening so i do not know if it is factual, but it does slap. 

we then get vérité’s cover of somebody else by the 1975 because i just simply prefer this version. but like. oh nick braxton. oh it’s about the rori and the james and the nick being afraid of being open and committing to someone but still wanting to feel the sense of being wanted by someone and being the sole person they want….. literally it is very crazy.

and then we end with “sugar we’re going down” by fall out boy!!!!! like it it such a good song nick voice am i more than you bargained for yet!!! i’ve been dying to tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear!!!! because that’s just who i am this week!!!!! like it fits so well with his character but also it is so funny that sugar we’re going down plays as they faint at the party……. i am a comedian sometimes.

episode seven

the first song we get in this ep is “demi moore” by phoebe bridgers as nick is detoxing in the hospital. like quite genuinely “i don’t wanna be stoned anymore!!!!!!!!” they don’t want to be alone anymore!!!!!!!!!

then we get “bite the hand” by boygenius. just. like. “i can’t love you the way you want me to” is just. such a statement for nick’s season. like he can’t love james the way james wants to be loved by nick, they can’t love their parents, their parents can’t love them…… it’s all about learning how to love in a way that is felt by all parties involved in the relationship be it romantic, platonic, familial or otherwise. like. it’s so insane it’s all about love

and then we get “relay” by fiona apple - which was a contender for the trailer song at some point. like nick @ alistair is very “i resent you for being raised right etc.” because he knows liz is fucked up and has flaws, he’s seen them, but alistair is easy to project all of his hatred onto. also just like evil is a relay sport thank you ms apple.

we then get “girls just wanna have fun” by cyndi lauper and “dancing queen” and “mamma mia” by abba sung at the lgbt youth club karaoke night because. i mean of course they are. also they are very fun gender songs and i enjoy them :)

and then. my friends. the moment you’ve been waiting for. nick braxton singing alanis morrissette’s “you oughta know”. now this is gonna be a long one.

the you oughta know analysis

first things first, i got the jagged little pill broadway behind the scenes book for christmas and there’s a whole chapter about you oughta know being a song about the queer struggle of being unseen and unheard and i feel so validated like that is exactly what the song is about.

but for nick. oh baby. it is them singing to james, to rori, to al, to liz, to bree, to his parents, to his teachers, to everyone who perceives them wrong. it’s their moment of standing up and saying i am angry and i am serious about this and i deserve to be listened to as a young person. i will now give an in depth analysis of every line i want to.

“the perfect version of me” - bree and nick have had so many parallels throughout the series, which bree can be described as a “better” version of nick. they’re in therapy, she’s taking care of herself, they’re bisexual and it’s accepted by everyone, she’s a good partner to rori, she has parents who love her, and she can be gender non-conforming in a safe way. but this line also applies to al - because nick and al have also been compared this season, with al talking about how he’s comfortable with his femininity and james liking al, who, despite claiming to be more feminine, is still more traditionally masculine than nick. al, bree and liz are all very academically smart. they are all very creatively gifted. liz doesn’t struggle for money. nick, in their mind, compared to all of these people, is a failure.

“so she speaks eloquently / and she could have your baby / i'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother” - this applied to both liz and bree, who both try to be seen as very eloquent speakers, and who are both afab, so therefore can have james’s baby - something nick wouldn’t be able to do. but we have seen in liz and bree’s seasons that they both have sexual trauma, and bree especially is uncomfortable with having children. it’s nick having this idea of womanhood and femininity being something so unattainable and required for james - that it kind of segways into al. because al is also assigned female at birth and could, as he is pre-t, hypothetically have a child, which is playing into some transphobic notions, but nick sees al as both more feminine and more masculine than him - making al just perfect for james.

“and every time you speak his name / does he know why you told me / you'd be there until you died / 'til you died, but you're still alive” - nick changes to he pronouns here, now directly talking about al. we’ve seen james flirting with nick and we know they’ve kissed in the past, and james and nick are incredibly close friends. but james still, in nick’s mind at this point, chose al over him.

“it was a slap in the face / how quickly i was replaced / and are you thinking of me when she fucks you?” - the conversation about how all the skam brighton characters relate to the line between sex and love is so interesting to me. it is also the reason i do not allow my parents to read this show. but anyways - nick does feel so genuinely replaced by everyone in his life, like there’s always a newer, better version waiting just around the corner. what nick doesn’t know is that that is how everyone else around him feels as well. and the line “are you thinking of me when she fucks you” is such a pointed line because it’s not a line of confidence or a joke. nick knows that no one thinks about them like that because they feel repulsive but try to play it off as a joke.

then we get the “i” section, which is, in the script, more “ayes” and “nahs”, but i wanted to change it to be the word “i” specifically because so much of the season is nick existing for other people. for their parents, for their friends, for their clients, for james. in this moment, they are choosing themself. they are standing up and saying “what i feel is important and i fucking matter”

“'cause the joke that you laid in the bed, that was me / and i'm not gonna fade as soon as you close your eyes / and you know it” - because nick’s sexuality and nick as a romantic partner is treated as such a joke throughout the show’s run, and james has been trying to turn every time he kissed nick into a joke that will go away, but it’s not going to go away because nick remembers it. even if james tries to deny his sexuality to nick’s face, nick is always going to remember that james was, at some point, attracted to men enough to kiss him.

“and every time i scratch my nails / down someone else's back, i hope you feel it / well, can you feel it?” - every time nick has sought out sex with strangers it’s because they feel rejected and insecure in themself. they seek out this sexual validation as a way to feed their want to be loved and noticed by people and he wants james and rori to feel hurt by it - he wants to have the power, he wants to have the control.

“and i’m here” - this line is just. so powerful to me. because it’s a line of defeat - after all this time, nick’s ended up at some crappy youth group with his little brother babysitting him, and he’s been dumped and cheated on and overdosed and everything is so awful. but then it becomes a line of celebration. of “yeah, all that shit happened to me, but i’m still here, i’m still standing, and no one can take away the fact that i am here and i am alive and i deserve to be respected” - something milo taught them when they talked about their tattoo 

“to remind you of the mess you left when you went away” - nick himself is the mess they all left - because they feel so abandoned and alone and like they are just a mess to be discarded, but he’s here to remind everyone that he’s here. it’s a call for help.

“it's not fair, to deny me / of the cross i bear that you gave to me” - this line i always saw as directed at his parents - they gave him this cross of being the perfect eldest sibling that ended up crushing him, and they deny that it ever happened. but nick knows it did. the same way he knows james like guys. the same way he knows rori didn’t like only him. the same way he’s been denying himself of the cross he bears of being non-binary, the cross of being an addict, the cross of being a mentally ill neurodivergent person. this song is him finally letting go of that denial.

“you oughta know” - he’s talking to everyone with that line. everyone should know about his pain, about his emotions, about what he’s gone through, because he’s kept it so bottled up for years. it’s not fair for him not to share it because he deserve to.

they don’t call me isaac tumblr user yououghtaknowmp3 for nothing.

episode eight

we open with “seven” by taylor swift as nick reads a letter they wrote to their younger self. like. “i used to scream ferociously any time i wanted” is such a line about being neurodivergent as a child and then being forced to mask as you grow up….. also the bridge is just james and nick core…. you should come live with me and we could be pirates…..

we then get “nonbinary” by arca because i feel like at this point nick would be trying to listen to more nonbinary artists because they want to see themself reflected rather than running from it!!!!

we then get “heather” by conan gray as nick and liz accidentally meet at the local mentally ill teen zone. because i am just fucking crazy like that. and yes, i chose that song before it got big on tiktok. but i think it’s funnier because it is a famous song.

we then get “falling” by harry styles as nick is being emo in their bedroom because nick is just the type of person who will dramatically listen to harry styles in their bedroom whilst being sad. it also completes the full circle of sad taylor swift to sad harry styles, but with no vehicular manslaughter.

we then get “400 lux” by lorde after james and nick have their big conversation because like it is just a them song. like you buy me orange juice. it’s also about the james/nick having a gansey/ronan dynamic in the way that nick is devotedly in love with him and james is just being homoerotic for the jokes. but not most other ways. honestly i haven’t thought about the skam brighton versions of these characters in trc….. many thoughts head full

episode nine

we open with “pink rabbits” by the national as nick redyes their hair back to pink. and i’ll be honest. i only chose this song because it has pink in the title. but it does still vibe with nick though.

we then get “be your own 3am” by adult mom as nick is dealing with some bad cravings. it’s just a very pretty song for listening to alone at night in your bed in that weird space between sleep and awake. i love it.

we then get “i am not a robot” by marina as nick walks down the street because nick is a marina bitch!!!!!!! and “you've been acting awful tough lately / smoking a lot of cigarettes lately / but inside, you're just a little baby / it's okay to say you've got a weak spot” is such a nick @ james line it makes me insane

also rich’s entire character and backstory is directly lifted from skins gen 3 because i am niche and make content just for me

we then end with “rager teenager!” by troye sivan because i have listened to that song exactly once, decided it had nick vibes, and just stuck it in an episode somewhere.

episode ten

we open with “strange torpedo” by lucy dacus because it is just. such a nick song. it is insane. i am insane. like it is about nick wanting someone but not being sure who or what it is because he just wants to be loved and discovers that sometimes being liked is better than being loved…….

we then get “used to you” by mxmtoon and like….. “tell me what i can say / and i can say it / tell me what i can do / and i can do my best / tell me who i should be / and i can change it” is such a nick early s5 lyric…… and how the song is kind of a love song but the line “now i’m just kind of used to you” is very nick about his feelings towards james

we then get “gay street fighter” by keiynan lonsdale as milo gets their sexy slow mo that all of the love interests get at some point. they deserve it.

and then “to be alone with you” by sufjan stevens plays as milo and nick have their first kiss in the pool because i always wanted to include that scene and thought “hey here is good”. and like. they are alone with each other a lot and they like spending time with each other….. they are friends, they are teens, they are falling in love a little <3

we then get “creep” by lena hall as nick has a little gender moment at school. lena hall played yitzhak in the broadway revival of hedwig and the angry inch and she just has so much gender. creep has always been a nick song and this cover just…. it’s them. 

we then get some ambient guitar music during the nick/rori scene and i chose some songs from “your city gave me asthma” by wilbur soot because it is a fucking great album and nick is canonically a mcyt stan so i simply had to. we end with “your new boyfriend”, which is a funnier, happier wilbur soot song and it is simply a fun time.

episode eleven

we open with “gender is boring” by she/her/hers which is just an absolute banger. like “gender never really meant that much to me / til' people started telling me how it was supposed to be” is such a great line and it is very nick braxton because. like. it’s just gender babey everything is about gender except for gender which is about having fun.

“dorothea” by taylor swift plays as james and nick have their final big scene together and like. it is such a homoerotic and fun song i love it so much thank you taylor friend of the show swift. “and if you're ever tired of being known / for who you know / you know, you'll always know me” is just……. god.

we then get “i do (end credits)” by kevin abstract as we open on the final scene of the season because a) it has end credits in the title and b) it is just another song i think nick would enjoy listening to.

we then get “they/them/theirs” by worriers as we get another little party montage because it’s a vibe time and like. i do love a they/them pronoun moment. it’s a very good and fun pronoun to use.

and finally we get “prelude” from next to normal as al comes in late to the party and awkwardly stands at the back. i chose this song because. well. you’ll see :)

thank you for reading my analysis that no one asked for, i just love having fun and talking about my silly little show :)

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Tragedy of Gatsby

PART TWENTY-FOUR OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: serious angst, anxiety about future, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 6.1K

Summary: Jess walks his mother down the aisle. Later, he and Ella address issues from their past.

Raucous laughter filled the diner as Liz had her makeshift bachelorette party. Ella could only roll her eyes at the obnoxious women, only growing louder as they drank more wine, along with whatever the one dressed in loud shades of pink, Carrie, had in her flask. With the wedding fast approaching, only one more day, Luke and Ella were doing their best to keep calm. They had closed Luke’s for the afternoon to allow for the modest party, consisting of four middle-aged Stars Hollow women drinking and uttering cliché nonsense. But, they had also (somehow) been assigned the task of making the food for the festivities. Ella had no idea where Luke had acquired the large, silver rotisserie cooker which sat on the diner counter, and she was almost too afraid to ask.

Large turkey legs spun around inside the hot plexiglass contraption, and more sat on a plate on the counter. Ella stood with the manual in her hands, a crease of concentration between her brows, trying to decipher the vague instructions. Though Luke was asking Liz if she had any idea what to do, Ella knew the effort was futile. As with most of the other wedding plans, Liz would be offering little to no help. Her personality wasn’t totally asinine, but Ella was beginning to understand the many complaints Luke and Jess had about Liz. She certainly wasn’t amazing at problem-solving.

“Let me see it,” Luke said, putting the roasted leg which he had held up to examine back down on the plate. He reached his hand out for the manual.

Ella sighed, not looking up at him. “You already read it. You need fresh eyes.”

“I think I saw something that’ll help. I’ll try and find it,” Luke continued, extending his hand to her further.

Shrugging, Ella finally tore her eyes away from the words and handed the book back over to him. “Godspeed, boss.”

Just then, Jess appeared from behind the curtain and came over to the end of the counter. “I need to get some batteries. I’ll be back.”

“What? For your Scarface beeper?” Ella asked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, don’t get distracted. You’ve got legs to cook,” Jess scolded playfully, but frowned as his mother called over to him. Seeing her within a five foot radius of alcohol was enough to put him slightly on edge.

“Girls, this is Jess,” Liz said, taking her son by the shoulders and over to the table to show him off to her friends.

Jess was met with a flirtatious chorus of “Hello handsome!” and other such greetings. And he immediately heard Ella snort back a laugh to his left. He shot her a glare and she feigned an innocent look.

“He’s gonna walk me down the aisle,” Liz said. “Is that cool, or what?”

Behind the counter, Ella raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was the first she was hearing of it.

“It’s no big deal,” Jess replied dismissively.

“It’s a very big deal,” Liz insisted, a hand still placed on his shoulder. Then, she turned back to Ella, who was staring quizzically into the rotisserie cooker. “And Ella’s filling in as my flower girl. I gave her one of my dresses and everything.”

“Oh, you’ll be great,” Carrie smiled at Ella through sips of her drink. “And those Renaissance dresses Liz showed me? They’ll squish your boobs right up to your neck! It’ll be fabulous!”

“Yeah,” Ella said flatly, sighing. After trying on the dress last night with Lorelai, they’d taken up the length and taken in the sides. But the corset was relatively static, unable to be adjusted. When laced up all the way, it almost completely cut off her ability to breathe. “I’m just counting down the seconds.”

Outside, a man in a UPS uniform, holding a large package, approached the door. Luke went over to accept the delivery, but it instantly became apparent that there was no package and the man was a stripper. Eyes widening, Ella quickly undid her apron and hung it on the hook in the kitchen.

“I’m taking a break,” she announced, rounding the corner of the counter to come up beside Jess.

Luke barely acknowledged her, still lost on what was about to happen. Without thinking, Jess grabbed Ella’s wrist gently to lead her out of the diner before the show could begin. It was clear from the scarlet flush on her cheeks and the amusement on her face that she didn’t want to bear witness to what was about to happen either.

“Have fun,” Jess muttered dejectedly to his uncle before brushing past him and escaping.

“Have fun with what?” Luke asked cluelessly behind them, but the door had already shut.

Ella erupted in a fit of laughter as Jess released her wrist, walking beside her and shaking his head in disbelief. Birds sung in the afternoon heat, and they went down towards the market, the streets lined with fresh produce and fragrant flowers. Eventually, Ella’s giggles subsided and she caught her breath.

“Luke really should get out more,” she said, letting her long hair out of its ponytail and running her hands through the waves.

Jess snorted. “Agreed. I’m pretty sure the only movie he’s ever seen is Bridge on the River Kwai.”

Pursing her lips, Ella shook her head. “Maybe that’s what he says. But he’s definitely seen more. How else could he keep up with Lorelai?”

“Good point.”

A comfortable pause passed between them as they neared the market, entering the air conditioning as Jess went off in search of batteries. Even after a couple years, Taylor still glared each time Jess came in the store. It was meant to look menacing, but instead it ended up as mostly cartoonish. Ella even shot him a teasing wave as they walked past. In some ways, Taylor felt about Ella the way Mrs. Kim did. She wore dark clothing and makeup, and created ghoulish artwork. And her dead mother, and additional complicated family members, did nothing to help her reputation among the other conservative townsfolk. Not like Ella cared, however; she knew people like Patty and Babette and Maury and Gypsy were the coolest ones. And they all liked her just fine.

“When the hell did batteries start getting so expensive?” Jess grumbled, picking up some generic AAs, skipping over the name brands.

Ella chuckled. “You sound like such a responsible adult.”

“Hardly,” Jess replied, leading the way to the checkout line. “If I was actually responsible, I’d leave New York. I live in one room with five other guys and I still barely make rent.”

“Ah, so the tragedy of Gatsby holds true?”

As he paid, Jess only chuckled in response. His eyes fell on the ‘Take a Penny, Leave a Penny’ jar while the cashier made change, and he smirked nostalgically. After so long, he could still hear Taylor’s accusations of his stealing every single coin in the jar. He had done it, of course. He just hadn’t expected such an intense response. Those early days in Stars Hollow had shown him just how boring such a sleepy town could be. In New York, there were bigger fish to fry than some kid taking pennies. But still, before they left, he dropped one penny into the familiar jar. For old time’s sake, he told himself. Ella noticed, of course, and raised a brow at him in askance.

He shrugged as they emerged back into the May sunshine. “What goes around comes around.”

Ella gave a bitter chuckle. “Not that karma bullshit.”

Jess clicked his tongue mockingly. “Kids these days. So cynical.”

“Whatever, James Dean,” Ella said, shaking her head.

For a moment, Jess’s breath seemed to catch in his throat. She hadn’t called him that name in such a long time. And suddenly, he was seventeen again, ditching school and mouthing off and making out with her to depressing records. But, then, he had to remind himself where he was. He was putting pennies in the jar. Walking his mother down the aisle. Reading the self-help book Luke had given him the night before after a long, strange lecture about the power of communication. Jess wanted to roll his eyes at every word when first starting the book, but he’d read almost half of it already, sitting up in his old bed. And he was beginning to absorb it, understand it. Biting down hard on his lip for a moment, Jess quieted the emotions which sprung up in his mind and only shot her a smirk.

“I am not going back to the diner any time soon. You wanna get some ice cream?” he asked, tucking the batteries into his pocket.

Nodding, Ella let a fond smile cross her face. Either she hadn’t noticed her nickname slip, or was brushing it off. “Sure. Seems like you’re finally developing a concept of weather.”

.   .   .

Sucking in her stomach, Ella regretted eating so much mint-chocolate-chip. Pretty in Pink played at a low volume on the small TV in the Gilmore living room, as Lorelai made the final alterations to Ella’s dress. Standing on a kitchen chair, Ella was off to the side of the couch so as not to block Rory and Sookie’s view of the movie. Along with playing substitute seamstress for the wedding, Lorelai would be meeting with Sookie about some Inn business later in the evening. Ella felt like she had been holding her arms out at her sides for hours, and her shoulders were starting to ache. But she bit back the heavy sigh which threatened to escape her mouth as Sooke, Lorelai, and Rory shot questions at her about Jess’s sudden reappearance. They were doing nothing to hide the suspicion in their voices.

“He’s really walking his mom down the aisle? Mr. Sid Vicious, Mr. Stealing-My-Beer-and Ditching-My-Dinner, Mr. Steal-Babette’s-Gnome-and-Fake-A-Murder-Outside-Doose’s is walking his mother down the aisle voluntarily?” Lorelai asked through the pins she held in her mouth, taking in the sides of the dress one final time.

“Anything else to add or are you done?” Ella’s voice was husky and breathless as she watched Jon Cryer dance around Molly Ringwald on screen, the corset tight but still manageable around her torso.

Rory chuckled. “You can’t deny all those pseudonyms are factually accurate.”

“And no longer timely, Ms. Amanpour,” Ella quipped flatly.

“But he still got in a fight with TJ at a strip club last night,” Lorelai piped in.

Ela rolled her eyes. “That was justified. And happened while he was reading Jane Austen in a strip club.”

“You’re grumpy tonight, kitten,” Sookie said, tilting her head over the back of the couch at Ella with a small pout.

“Comes with the lack of oxygen,” Ella replied.

Lorelai took a final pin from her mouth and stuck it in the hem at Ella’s side. “Why did you agree to this Renaissance nonsense, then?”

“Didn’t really agree to it. And when Liz brought it up, Luke seemed so happy. I just...couldn’t say no to them,” Ella explained.

Lorelai shot her a mischievous grin. “Ah, there’s that hidden heart of gold. What a shame that it’s three sizes too small.”

“I’m not losing any sleep over it,” Ella said.

Rory snickered.

“Hey, I’m not the only one trying to add a few years to Luke’s life this week,” Ella continued, stepping down from the chair, trying not to slip in her fishnets.

“What do you mean?” Sookie asked.

“Lorelai is Luke’s date,” Ella said. “A match made in heaven.”

Lorelai rolled her eyes. “We’re just going as friends.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve never been arrested. You’d never pass a polygraph,” Rory smiled, in on the teasing.

“Wicked, wicked girls,” Lorelai scolded with a dramatic gasp.

“Not quite the twins from The Shining, but close,” Sookie chimed in, agreeing.

“Twins indeed,” Lorelai said, straightening the corset, eyebrows raised.

Normally, Ella barely filled out a bodice. But, with the constricting powers of the corset, she had cleavage nearly up to the collarbone. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t an interesting change from being nearly flat-chested, as she slowly got used to the pressure on her ribs.

“Just call me Bianca,” Ella announced in a dramatic Elizabethan accent, making circular gestures with her hands.

“Not Desdemona?” Rory asked.

Scrunching up her nose in thought, Ella shook her head. “No, definitely Bianca. I’d much rather slap Cassio than be murdered by Othello. Besides, I don’t think this dress is exactly Desdemona’s taste.”

.   .   .

The day bloomed hot and dry, the sun shining down from a cloudless sky. Ella rushed across town square from Patty’s to Luke’s. As she entered the air conditioning of the diner, she felt sweaty in her tight outfit, panting slightly. In the back of her mind, she worried her makeup would smudge beyond salvageability before the ceremony had even started. But soon, the cool evening would set in. And she kept her mind focused on the task at hand, trudging up the stairs to the apartment and knocking twice on the door. After a few moments, Jess came to greet her, dressed in all black. He blinked at her in surprise, then smirked.

“Hello, flower girl,” he said.

Scoffing dejectedly, she brushed past him into the apartment. But, as soon as she was in view of Luke’s side of the room, she turned back around with a look of disgust. TJ was shirtless, in nothing but some very form-fitting tights. Jess chuckled at the scowl which formed on her face and the blush on her cheeks.

“Jackass!” she scolded Jess playfully. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Didn’t exactly give me the chance, did you?” he asked, eyebrows raised as he made his way over to his duffel.

“Excuses,” she shot back.

“Alright, alright,” Luke piped up, exiting the bathroom and walking over to Ella in the kitchen. “What’s up, kid?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she turned away from Jess and faced Luke, mouth set in a thin line. “I’ve been sent here to tell you that Liz’s dress ripped. But Lorelai is fixing it and everything is fine. She’ll just be a few minutes late. But no one’s getting left at the altar or anything.”

“What’d you say?” TJ chimed in, panicked, in his thick New Yorker accent.

“Nothing, Liz is just running a little late getting dressed. Go put your outfit on, buddy,” Luke said, reassuring.

Narrowing his eyes, TJ stared suspiciously at the three of them before finally giving a nod. He took the hanger which held his heavy Renaissance costume into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Ella was comforted by the fact that the next time she saw him he would more than likely be fully clothed.

“Nice tie,” Ella said, feeling odd seeing Luke out of his usual uniform. The black suit looked stiff on him, but his burgundy tie was surprisingly fashionable.

“Thanks,” Luke replied, almost begrudging, almost anxious.

Jess walked back over to the two of them near the kitchen table. He had a pale, yellowish button-up over his black t-shirt, yet to be buttoned. “He’s nervous.”

“I am not,” Luke argued.

“I bet Lorelai will think you look great,” Ella teased.

Luke rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Then, he went to deal with the shoes on his bed. The polish was practically a hundred years old, and its chunkiness wasn’t yielding the best results.

As Jess finished buttoning up his shirt, his gaze roamed over Ella. She wore a lavender, cap-sleeve dress, chiffon with a hem which stopped just above her knees. Over it, a silvery vest corset. Her usually messy hair was curled in long, golden ringlets, and it was done half-up, half-down. A few loose strands hung around her freckled face. But even though her lips were shiny with clear gloss, her eye makeup was dark and smudged in a grungy style as usual.

“You look nice,” Jess said with sincerity, nearly winded, breathless from the butterflies which flew around in his stomach.

Smiling shyly, Ella’s flush deepened. “Thank you. Don’t look so bad yourself, Mariano.”

He nodded humbly.

But then, Ella furrowed her brows and she reached up to straighten the collar of his shirt. “You have to remember to fold these right. How many times, Jess?”

Ignoring the electricity he felt at her touch, he looked down and saw the hefty black Doc Martens on her feet. He regained his confident smirk, smug.

“No heels?” he asked as she took a step back from him, satisfied with his shirt.

She mirrored his expression, conspiratory. “Never, when I can help it. Last time I wore them was at Sookie's wedding. One of the worst decisions of my life. And, hey, Liz said I could wear my own shoes.”

Jess snickered, picking his watch up from the kitchen table and fastening it around his wrist. “Wait to cheat the system.”

“Thank you very much,” she replied with a little bow. “See you out there?”

“Oh, can’t wait,” Jess drawled, feigning excitement.

“Hey. Game face, Mariano,” Ella said, pointing a finger at him as she made for the front door. “I’ll save you a seat.”

.   .   .

With Liz’s dress finally fixed, Ella jogged over to the town square from Patty’s, hearing the strings and flute players biding their time, keeping the moderate crowd entertained. So many people were wearing costumes, flowers in their hair, and bells on their shoes. She would have rolled her eyes, but she was clutching at her middle and nearly doubled over when she finally made it to the end of the aisle, trying to catch her breath. Jess stood in waiting for his mother, and his eyes widened when he saw Ella panting.

Bringing his hand to her arm as he crouched down, he furrowed his brows at her. “Woah, Stevens, are you okay?”

Nodding, Ella swallowed dryly and straightened up. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, Mariano. It’s just hot. And I’m only getting about half the air I normally do. I’m dizzy, that’s all.”

“You wanna sit down? I can get you some water?” he asked. Though she was usually pale, her face was almost never so ghostly.

She shook her head just as the music kicked up, signaling her cue. Grabbing the basket of rose petals from the ground near the end of the aisle, she shot him one final smirk in an attempt at reassurance. “Really, I’m okay. And I’m on. Break a leg.”

“Right back at ya,” he said, a doubtful eyebrow raised.

And, in a mortifying turn, Ella skipped down the aisle and added in a few twirls, tossing petals as she went. It wasn’t exactly dancing, which was good for the audience’s sake. They would otherwise have been doomed. But her cheeks flamed and her stomach squirmed with nerves, fearing a stumble. Lorelai flashed her an encouraging smile as she went, and soon enough Ella was taking her seat in the front row, one empty chair for Jess to her right. In all honesty, she was surprised she had actually pulled it off. When she’d signed on to be the flower girl, she’d understood the role as merely walking. She’d almost chickened out when Liz had shown her the moves the night before. But, somehow, she had survived. She didn’t believe in miracles, but it came pretty close.

Then, Liz rode in at the back of the arrangement on a large chair, rolled by two men in pantaloons. Everyone rose. Jess took her by the arm, leading her down the way. Ella had to admit, Liz looked amazing in her wedding dress. And Jess, who’d had only a shy, stoic expression before, even managed a small smile as his mother kissed him on the cheek. Soon, she stepped next to TJ, and the crowd was seated again. Ella looked at Jess, as he came to her side, with a tiny smirk.

“You did well. Very firm gait,” she whispered.

Jess rolled his eyes, but his smile stayed. “Whatever, Stevens. We both know you were seconds away from breaking your nose.”

She didn’t reply, but instead licked the pad of her thumb and smudged Liz’s lipstick off his cheek.

Jess grimaced. “Ugh, Eleanor spit.”

“Ah, sweet revenge,” she said, a wicked grin growing on her lips.

Once the officiant began playing some antiquated string instrument and singing a silly song about love, all bets were off. Ella could hear Luke and Lorelai fighting laughter behind her. She bit at her thumbnail to keep from giggling, but eventually had to hide her flushed face with one hand and grip Jess’s knee with the other for dear life. Even Jess had to bite down on his bottom lip to ward off an amused outburst.

.   .   .

Stars shone brightly from the dark sky, and Ella gazed up at them as the man sitting next to her and Jess droned on about his time in prison. Having had the opportunity to meet many of Liz and TJ’s acquaintances from the Renaissance fair over the course of the night, Ella was relatively sure she would not be donning her corset dress again any time soon. Though Liz had assured her she could keep it, since it was now fitted just right to her frame. Warm air blew past them in pleasant breezes, and it made Ella’s heart feel calm, soothed. Summer was coming. She couldn’t wait. Swims in the lake (without the current of an ocean), sitting out in the gazebo with Lane, drawing the floral arrangements which would adorn town.

Eventually, the man with the tank top and shaved head rose from his seat, and left Ella and Jess alone at the table. Stray, empty plates peppered the gingham tablecloth. Deeply breathing in the clean air, Ella looked over at Jess in the glowy night, lit up by the extra twinkle lights around the makeshift dance floor which had been set up near the gazebo. Past Jess, she could see Luke and Lorelai talking and laughing amongst themselves at their table. A smirk crossed Ella’s face. She hoped it would stick this time, with Luke officially divorced and Lorelai having broken up with her rich, snotty boyfriend, Jason Stiles. Ella had never met him, of course. But from what Rory had told her, Jason had been all wrong for Lorelai.

Clearing her throat, Ella faced Jess again and propped her head up on her palm, elbow on the table. “You okay?”

Jess, sitting hunched over his nearly empty plate of food, looked up at her and shrugged. He leaned back against the back of the folding chair he sat in. “Well, I’m not bleeding or anything. Are you still dizzy?”

“No, I think my vitality has been restored,” Ella said, sighing slightly.

“Well, I know the sunlight hurts you, Morticia.”

Snorting a laugh, Ella straightened up and her tone turned more serious. “Really, though. You’re okay with her getting married again?”

Chewing on his lip, Jess shrugged once again. “I’m okay. She’s gonna do what she’s gonna do. And this one is better than some of the others. Though that bar is pretty fucking low.”

She nodded. “Alright. You can tell me, y’know. It’s okay if you’re not okay.”

“I know,” he said shortly, though not unkindly.

“Good. Glad we sorted that out, then,” she said, smiling genuinely at him.

He gave a small smile back. “Me too, Stevens.”

Suddenly, Kirk came over the loudspeaker soundsystem and announced Liz and TJ were about to have their first dance. The sweet guitar tune which played was not one Ella could instantly recognize, but she didn’t hate it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Luke and Lorelai over near the side of the dance floor. Jess watched Ella gaze out around the crowd, starlight glinting in her hazel eyes. He felt so content, and his mind wandered to the now-finished self help book sitting on the table near his teenage bed. But, before he could open his mouth to speak, Ella turned back to him.

“This song isn’t half bad,” she said. “I almost expected a Gregorian chant, but I guess they’re not quite that committed to the theme.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in the Gazette review tomorrow,” Jess quipped. “I figured you’d think this was too happy.”

She shook her head slightly, pursing her lips. “Maybe the lyrics are happy, but it sounds sad. The music feels...depressed. Fuck, that doesn’t make sense. Maybe I do have heat stroke, after all.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you. And you tell me I don’t drink enough water,” Jess chided, shaking his head.

Ella rolled her eyes. With a smirk, she pointed across the square towards Luke and Lorelai. “Look at those crazy kids.”

Jess looked at the two of them, Lorelai settling against Luke as they danced slowly together. He laughed under his breath. Maybe Luke was taking the book’s advice, too. It still shocked Jess that his uncle had been proactive enough to seek relationship guidance. Maybe Luke would no longer be the most dysfunctional person he knew.

“Took them long enough,” Jess said knowingly.

Humming in agreement, Ella leaned back in her chair, shifting to get more comfortable. She absolutely couldn’t wait to take the dress off. “But, hey, Luke can waltz a hell of a lot better than I ever would’ve been able to.”

“Agreed,” Jess scoffed. “In those boots? You’d break all ten of my toes.”

“Hey, you managed to come away from the Distillers concert unscathed,” she said pointedly, eyebrows raised.

“The exception that proves the rule.”

She snickered but didn’t retort, instead yawning against the back of her hand. Such a costume in the nighttime heat also seemed to be making her drowsy. After a moment, Jess swallowed down his pride. He remembered Lorelai’s words, Luke’s words, and the words in the book telling him he deserved love. Jess put a hesitant arm around her, and before she knew what she was doing, instinct taking over, she brought her head to his shoulder. And it was so familiar. Watching the townspeople of Stars Hollow, saying nothing but feeling everything. And, just for a minute, she quieted the thoughts which swirled around in her mind. She didn’t worry, she didn’t bite her nails, she didn’t clutch her necklace. She only let herself feel the swell of her heart.

.   .   .

In the early hours of the morning, Ella was glad to have some silence in the house. Hep Alien was out at a gig, performing and celebrating the success of Mrs. Kim’s visit to finally reconcile with Lane. She’d come over to see her daughter’s new life during the wedding, when Ella was out. Though Zach and Brian had combed their hair and put on ironed shirts, Mrs. Kim already knew enough about Ella to never trust her. So, before she left for the wedding, Ella parked her car outside the diner and left no traces of her presence in the living room. As Ella was coming back through the front door, already unlacing her corset, the three band members were getting ready to rock, as Lane put it. With Dave out at college in California, they were still missing a guitar player, but they’d booked something at a random bar near New Haven. They were relying on their minimalist White Stripes covers for the time being. Lane had given Ella an excited squeal and a big hug before leaving, offering her friend a brief rundown of the evening. Mrs. Kim still wasn’t overjoyed, but she had at least done a walkthrough of the house.

Finally able to breathe again, Ella had cracked open nearly every window of the house to let the cool breeze in. Her hair was damp and loose from a shower. She was dressed in an old Pixies t-shirt and some plaid pajama bottoms, more comfortable than she’d been all day. It had been taxing, but more fun than she thought it would be.

And Jess. So different but so easy. A quick goodbye. Apparently, though, he had just gotten a cellphone. He had given her his number, after a fair amount of her teasing. She’d promised to take advantage of Luke’s house phone during her breaks. As hard as it was to watch him disappear into the dark diner, parting ways as she walked back to Lane’s and he went to pack up his stuff, at least she knew it wouldn’t be the last time they spoke. She could’ve sworn, as they sat for nearly an hour with her head on his shoulder, she had been transported back in time. Somehow, she had forgotten just how safe Jess could make her feel. How right. But with it brought confusion.

He lived miles away, he left without a word, didn’t speak to her for over a month. If she hadn’t grabbed the phone from Luke, would he have ever tried to get in touch with her at all? No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t forget what had happened, how it felt. Despite what Lorelai and Rory may have thought, calling to check in on her best friend every once in a while was different than forgiving the past.

Snuggled beneath a thin throw blanket, Ella doodled inside a copy of The Waves. She had tried to focus on the words for only a few minutes before giving up entirely. Her thoughts were too loud; she couldn’t quiet them down enough for fiction, even modernist. Instead, she drew a Renaissance scene, a grim reaper sneaking up on a gaggle of beautiful, corseted women.

She furrowed her brows when a knock sounded on the door. It was Lane’s house, and she hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone. Nonetheless, Ella tossed her book and blanket aside, crossing her arms over her braless chest defensively. But, she found only Jess on the doorstep. He had donned his leather jacket and stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. His expression was largely unreadable, but she almost thought she saw a shine in his brown eyes.

“Hey, Mariano,” she greeted him, smiling. “Is something wrong? Is it that rust bucket again? If you need a place to crash while Gypsy’s fixing it, I’m sure Lane would be okay if we shared the couch, or the floor maybe-”

“Can I come in?” he asked suddenly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Ella nodded, face falling at his anxious tone. She stepped aside for him to pass. “Sure. Everyone else is at a gig near Yale. Just Virginia Woolf and I tonight.”

A half-hearted smirk crossed his face as she shut the door and went back to the couch. She gestured for him to sit in the armchair across from her. It was a wonder how the band managed to fit any furniture in the living room at all with the drums and other gear set up on the wall near the front door.

“What’s wrong, Jess? Did something happen?” she asked gently, tilting her head at him.

He swallowed harshly, running a hand over his mouth. “I need to talk to you.”

She nodded. “Okay. Well, here I am.”

Breathing a heavy sigh, he took a long pause, then finally locked eyes with her. “Come with me.”

“What?” she asked, chuckling slightly in disbelief. Was he joking?

“To New York. We could work, live together, be together. God knows they would love your art up there. You could sell it on the street if you needed to, and I know people would buy it. I love you, Elle. I love you so much and I wanna be with you.” He gestured passionately and spoke with such conviction that Ella was almost rendered speechless with shock.

Gathering her thoughts, she began to shake her head slowly. “You don’t love me, Jess.”

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been in love with you for two years!”

She gave him a doubtful glance.

“Since that day in the gazebo! I’ve thought about it over and over! When you took my hand, and you showed me the hydrangeas through the hole in the roof, and you told me you didn’t care whether I went to college! And you took off your heels to walk home, right before you left for New Britain. And I’ve loved you every second of every day since!”

“Oh really?” she asked, voice growing tense. “You loved me when you left without saying anything? You loved me when I went a month without knowing whether you were alive or dead? You loved me then?”

Jess bowed his head slightly and sighed again. “Yes. I loved you so much then. And I love you now. I’m sorry, Elle. Okay? I know you couldn’t count on me then, but you can now! I’m here! I’m right here!”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella only kept shaking her head. “Jess, you can’t do this to me. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. You can do anything. You’ve always been able to do anything! And I know you want this, too! I know you love me!” he continued, tone pleading now.

Tears sprang up and spilled over in Ella’s eyes before she could stop them, and she wiped angrily at her cheeks. “Please stop.”

“Look, I know you’re scared-”

“No, Jess, you don’t know!” she interrupted, voice raised to a yell. “You don’t know! You were gone. Overnight. Just gone. And you didn’t call for a month! I didn’t know where you were! You left! Just like everyone! Just like my fucking mom! And my older brother! And you broke my heart!”

For a moment, the air stood stagnant and charged between them. Crickets and cicadas hummed outside. Stray yells, noises from the wedding party, still sounded in the distance. Jess sniffled and blinked back tears. Ella wiped furiously at her cheeks. Soon, she had her elbows on her knees and was hiding her face in her hands.

“Eleanor, please, I’m so sorry! I was so lost! Luke kicked me out and I didn’t know what to do! And I did leave you. But not forever!”

Ella gave a muffled, bitter chuckle.

“I wanna be with you! For the rest of my life! But not here. Not in this place. Not in Stars Hollow! We can start new!” he said, voice strained with emotion.

Raising her head to face him again, Ella clutched at her necklace. “I can’t leave, Jess. My little brother’s still here, I’m starting summer classes in a week, I-”

“It’s not about him. It’s not about them. It’s about you and me. It’s about what we want! You already left your place! Everything you own is in your backseat! You’re ready! Let’s go!”

“No!”

“I love you, Elle. I know you love me too! You say you don’t believe in it, but I know it’s not true! You love me and we love each other and we’re supposed to be together! Let’s go!”

Still, she shook her head vehemently.

“No, Jess!” she shouted, louder than she expected to. She had stopped trying to hide her crying. Her tone was cracked. “No! You don’t get to come here and try to save me! I don’t need any saving! We said no cop outs! We said we were gonna try! And you left without trying! I’m not falling for it again!”

Jess, too, had tears streaming down his cheeks. “Eleanor, I can fix it. I promise, I-”

“Don’t Eleanor me, Jess! It’s too late! You promised before and you left me! Fuck and run! And I should’ve known!” she exclaimed hotly. She raked her hands through her hair, pausing, but it seemed Jess might have nothing more to say. “I think you should go.”

His jaw tensed, and a crestfallen look appeared on his face. “Eleanor, you know we love each other. Please...please just come with me.��

Breathing a broken sigh, Ella averted her gaze from him, dejected. Her heart twisted painfully. She almost couldn’t take it. She stared at her hands, wringing them together in her lap. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jess. Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Mouth agape, Jess stared at her in the lamplight. She loved him. He loved her. They both knew it. But her voice, with no affection for him in it. Nothing at all but sorrow. And it clicked in his mind. He would never have her again. He’d done exactly what he’d promised not to do; and he would forever pay the price. She could hold a grudge like it was her job, Luke had said. Patience, Lorelai had said. He hadn’t listened. Maybe he deserved love, as the book said, but not from her. As he walked out without another word, he didn’t slam the door. He shut it gently behind him. And a cold stone of grief sat heavy in Ella’s stomach. She sat on the couch, weeping, until the birds chirped and the sun rose.

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Eight

FFN II AO3

Summary: Reddington throws a wrench into their case, Liz chooses to trust Ressler with a secret, and TomJacob demands answers from Gina.

Chapter Eight

Trust was not something that came easily to her these days. Every time she started to put her faith in someone they flipped it around on her, and while Cooper had been known to walk that line professionally with her, she never would have dreamed he was capable of lying to her about something like this.

She'd been over it again and again. Reddington had told her first, and while he was far from a paramount of honesty, she had gone to Cooper directly. He had been there when Tom flatlined and they had taken him back to identify the body. Cooper had been kind and he had been gentle, but there had been no room to misinterpret what he'd said. He had been clear when he had told her that her husband was dead.

But that had been Tom in her mother's custody. Bruised and beaten, sure, but she knew him. She would always know him.

That meant that her boss had lied to her or someone had pulled a very, very convincing one over on him. Either way, someone powerful had made sure Elizabeth Keen had thought her husband was dead and had done something to him to keep him from remembering her. She'd be damned if she didn't find out who, and that trail started with Cooper.

Liz hadn't been able to sleep after getting back home the night before. She'd tossed and turned before finally rolling out of the bed she used to share with him and digging around in her closet. She'd moved nearly everything that reminded her of Tom to storage except a box that she kept in the very back for those dark days. They'd become fewer and fewer the longer she survived without him, but every now and again she needed to hold onto something.

Her fingers touched the lid of the old filing box shoved back behind her clothes and she pulled it out, tossing the various odds and ends that had piled up ontop of it back into the closet and removing the lid. There wasn't much inside. A couple of his favourite books, a jumpdrive with his interview with the adoption agency from their first marriage, a smaller box that held their wedding rings, and a few photos. She reached down, pulling the framed photo from a trip to Boston years before from the top and found herself staring at his smiling face. She missed him. She hadn't stopped missing him.

A sharp buzzing from her phone by the bed shattered the moment and Liz jumped. She shot it a glare before unfolding from her place on the floor, placing the photo back in the box and standing. A text from Ressler was lit up on the lock screen:

Cooper needs us in early.

Good. She needed to talk to Cooper too. If he'd lied to her, if he'd hidden the fact that Tom was alive for any reason, she needed to know.

Mornings at the Keen household were chaotic on a good day, but Liz had a cup of coffee down her throat and breakfast on the table before rousing Agnes a good hour before she normally would have. Her daughter moved sluggishly - late night tea and glitter parties with Uncle Donnie causing her to drag - as Liz made her way through her second cup and put her school bag together for her, reminding her once again that Shelly's mom had been willing to drop by early for carpool so they shouldn't make them wait.

Ten minutes later Agnes was out the door and on her way to school and Liz was speeding towards the Post Office, her focus on the question she needed an answer to.

It was everything Liz could do to stand still as the old, creaking lift sent her down to the basement level of the facility that they worked in, and she was through those faded yellow doors as soon as they started to open.

The Post Office was already buzzing with activity, other agents able to drop their lives and come in more quickly than she was. Liz barely heard Aram's chipper greeting as she barreled past him on her way to their boss' office. She knocked once and opened the door before Cooper had a chance to say if she should or not, halfway through, "Sir, we need to talk about-" before she realized that he wasn't alone. Ressler and Park stood at his desk, Park stopped mid-explanation, and Aram followed up behind her and excused himself as he entered as well. So much for a private conversation before everything started.

"Keen," Cooper greeted, "thank you for coming in early. We've had Krause move the meet to first thing this morning."

"Why?" Liz found herself asking. "Everything was in place."

"Reddington was insistent on being allowed to meet with The Collector before we transferred him in for questioning. A little too insistent."

"Not that he'd ever have an ulterior motive," Ressler grumbled, taking a sip from his to-go coffee cup clutched greedily in his hand. Right. He hadn't gotten a ton more sleep than Liz had.

"Do we know what he wants?" Park asked.

Cooper's dark gaze shifted over to Liz. "I believe it may have something to do with your mother."

"Why?"

"A hunch. Until Krause confirmed his existence, The Collector was a myth in the Cold War-era intelligence community. A man that moved secrets around like currency."

Aram shifted nervously. "So you think Mr Reddington is gonna… what? Use him to hurt Agent Keen's mother?"

"We don't know," Cooper answered. "He's insistent that he has no interest in harming Elizabeth's mother, but I'm not willing to risk it. We couldn't change the location without tipping him off that something was happening, but we were able to move up the time table. That should allow us to get in, take The Collector, and get out before Reddington realizes it."

Liz stared at him. It would have been easier to have just given Reddington whatever time he'd requested with the man rather than risk the whole op, but Cooper was going out of his way to protect her. To protect someone she loved. She swallowed hard, trying to push the guilt down with it. She shouldn't have questioned Cooper on Tom. He would never intentionally hurt her like that. She knew better and she was embarrassed to think that, even for a few hours, she'd questioned that loyalty after everything that they'd been through.

"Agent Keen, was there something that you needed to speak to me about before you roll out?" Cooper asked, pulling her attention back around.

She shook her head. "No sir. It can wait."

He hadn't known. He wouldn't have betrayed her like that, which meant someone else had. Someone with means and motive, but she couldn't think about that now, no matter how much her mind wanted to wander to the new mystery. They had a job to do.

                                                         --------

Jacob had been fourteen years old when he first stepped foot on the St Regis campus. He had been young and angry and bitter at the hands life had dealt him. His first memories were of foster care and no house lasted long. He'd land in one and be gone again in a month or two. Sometimes it was his own choice and other times they shoved him out the door the moment they realized that he didn't fit their image they had cooked up in their minds. And then, when he finally landed in a house that wanted to keep him enough that they made it official, it was all he could do to survive the experience.

Bud has saved him though. He hadn't cared that Jacob couldn't connect, that he couldn't empathize. He had taught him to use it. To outgrow the childish dream that said you had to have a family. He didn't need one. He didn't want one. And even if he had, they wouldn't have wanted him anyway. That's how he knew that Elizabeth Keen had to be lying.

He just didn't know how she'd gotten ahold of the kind of details that she had had. That's where everything fell apart. She was a fed. Maybe she had caught him? Investigated him? He had no way to know with a blaring decade's worth of missing memories, but he knew who would. And that's what had led him back to St Regis' home campus in upstate New York.

Jacob dropped the stolen car off at the gate to have them dispose of it before limping his way in towards Gina's office. He caught a few glances along the way, having only done the bare minimum to clean himself up and not catch attention. Various cuts had reopened on his trip upstate, leaving a newly dried smear of blood down the left side of his face from the cut along his eyebrow. Only the cap he'd snagged from the backseat of the stolen car did anything to shield him from curious eyes.

Gina wasn't in her office. It took some searching, but he finally found her at the far end of the campus on the training grounds. She watched from a secluded spot as students she had recruited ran drills, practiced skills, and were whipped into shape by a former drill sergeant.

It felt familiar. Mostly.

"Whatever happened to old Higgins?" Jacob asked by way of greeting. "You remember he used to run us into the ground when we were kids. I thought he'd never leave."

Gina turned, surprise clear for the barest of moments. "You look like shit. What happened?"

"Hit a snag."

She stood, motioning for him to follow her. "What kind of snag? I haven't heard from you or Tremblay since you left."

"She pay you?"

Gina's brows drew together questioningly and she led him into an old shed and out of the way of prying eyes. She turned towards him, her voice sharp. "What happened?"

"Tremblay knew a hell of a lot more than she was saying."

That didn't seem to help clear it up. "So what? Clients lie all the time. She pays and she-"

"Elizabeth Keen." The name stopped her mid sentence. "You know her? Because that's who Tremblay's been having me watch. Some fed on a task force that uses Raymond Reddington as her CI. And get this: the woman says she knew me. Married me."

"Tremblay said that?" Gina asked carefully.

"Keen. I got pinched by a woman she's been meeting with. Maddie Tolliver." That name didn't seem to ring any bells. "Had a chat-" he motioned to the cuts and bruises on his face - "and Keen showed up. Who is she?"

Gina cleared her throat. "A job. She was a job."

"She knew things."

"It was deep cover. You made her believe she was…. everything." She reached forward, fingers surprisingly gentle against his face. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"No, you don't get it. When I say she knew things, I mean real things. Things a mark couldn't have known. Did she investigate me?"

"Yes," Gina said a little too quickly and leaned forward, pressing her lips against him. "Forget about Keen and about Tremblay. I'll take care of it. Let's-"

"Why are you lying to me?"

A pair of soft brown eyes blinked hard. "I'm not."

"C'mon, Gina. I know every tell you've got." Little lies between them weren't unusual, but they were honest when it counted. They could trust each other even if the whole world was against them. That had always been the deal. "What the hell happened?"

He didn't like the look in her eyes. Indecision. Pain. Fear. "You married her," she said at last, her voice more unsteady than he'd ever heard it.

"As a job?"

She didn't answer, but the way her eyes darted said everything.

"I married her… for real? A fed? Bud would have…" his chest tightened dangerously and Jacob staggered back. "No."

"It doesn't matter."

"Bud gone, the new staff…. Did I-?"

"No," Gina cut him off, stepping closer again.

"Did she?"

That struck a nerve. "All she did was get you into trouble. I bailed you out. When the Major came for you, she wasn't even there. I was. I protected you, not her, and you still-" She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. "It doesn't matter. You don't even remember her."

"Why is that?" Jacob managed, his tone more desperate than he would have liked.

"I don't know."

He studied her for a long moment. "How the hell am I supposed to believe anything you tell me? You lied to me."

"I protected you."

"No…." He winced, looking at the woman he'd grown up with, the only person he thought he could trust. "You got what you wanted, however you had to get it. It's my turn."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I want answers."

"Jacob…"

"I need answers, Gina, and I don't trust them coming from you. You're gonna let me walk."

"You can't just-"

"Watch me." He turned, leaving her standing in the shed alone. He'd given her more than two years of loyalty with nothing to show for it and he was done. He needed to know what happened in those missing years.

Jacob pulled his burner phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial. "Tremblay, it’s Phelps. We need to talk."

                                                        --------

It was early, but sleep was difficult to come by these days anyway. Dr Clemons had managed to regulate his new dose of medication to keep the tremors at bay. The side effects were troublesome though, a particularly irksome one leaving him with the most vivid dreams he'd ever had, and that was a high bar to reach. Some were good dreams. Bubbles and laughter and gentle touches. Red hair tickled his cheek and a pair of blue eyes that he hadn't seen in too many years peering into his. Then others, often more frequent than the more kinder dreams, left his heart racing. Death and destruction and failure. He didn't dare try to sleep again after those.

So Dembe found him awake, despite the orders to rest more. He had had Chuck and Morgan shadowing Bruno Krause as best they could and it had paid off. He'd hoped Harold would be willing to work with him, to trust him, but hopes weren't all meant to pan out. Instead the assistant director thought he was pulling a clever one over on them by switching up the time table.

"Cooper is not going to allow you to meet with him," Dembe mused as Reddington handed the phone back to him after giving Morgan their instructions.

Reddington sighed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "No, and that does complicate the matter. I'd hoped for a better outcome than this."

"I'll make the call and have Bernard meet them at the site."

"Yes," Reddington agreed. "Call me when it's done."

                                                        --------

"Everything okay this morning?" Ressler asked as they pulled up to meet Park and a handful of other undercover agents onsite. "You just about took Cooper's door off the hinges when you got there."

Liz glanced over from the driver's seat. "It was…." She pulled in a steadying breath. She wasn't very good at friendships. She knew that. It was easier for her to express that she cared by helping a friend hide a body than it was to admit to something personal when she wasn't backed into a corner. This was Ressler though. If anyone had proven himself trustworthy it was him. He was a steady voice of sound reason. An island of calm in the midst of her chaos. He could help her if she'd let him. He wanted to help her.

A tap on the window made her jump and Park stood there, waiting impatiently. Liz motioned to her and turned back to her partner. "Let's get this guy, then I'll tell you."

"I'm holding you to that, Keen."

She offered him the barest of smiles before piling out of the SUV to be met by the Metro PD officer that was explaining where his men were set up and, in turn, were ready to take orders to better assist the FBI.

His people were set up in a perimeter with two undercover inside to watch Krause. The plan was to have him signal them when he spotted The Collector. They would approach The Collector outside, arresting him before he ever made it into the coffee shop that Krause was sitting in. Simple enough.

"Hey? Hey guys?" Aram's hesitant voice came over their closed comm system. "Mr Reddington is not involved with this, right? No one told him or anything?"

Liz pushes a frustrated breath through her nose. "Why would we have?"

"I'm looked into their security cameras inside and Chuck is in line to get coffee."

"No way that's a coincidence," Ressler huffed.

"You think he'd try to take him?" Park asked.

Liz pursed her lips, frustration pulling at her. "Wouldn't be the first time. Captain Reynolds? We need to make sure that-"

"There's our signal," Reynolds said and Liz turned to see a man approaching. He fit the vague description of the former KGB officer that could have been The Collector. "Move in to-"

A gunshot rang out and the man dropped on the sidewalk.

Liz didn't wait as she sprang forward, even as others dove for cover. She knew who had taken that shot, even if his finger hadn't been on the trigger, and she wouldn't catch a bullet from the sniper.

The bullet had struck him in the chest, but hadn't killed him upon impact. He lay there, choking on his own blood as Liz skidded to his side on her knees. She reached forward, palms pressed against the wound uselessly. He didn't have long.

"Look at me," she demanded and his attention swiveled to her. "I know who you are. Why would someone try to kill you?"

He blinked heavily at her. "Don't know," he gasped, coughing hard and Liz winced as she felt the blood leaking through her fingers. "So many secrets."

"Only one. What secret would Raymond Reddington kill you for?" His eyes widened a little at that and Liz's narrowed. "Answer me. Please."

There was a long moment, sirens sounding in the distance, and she thought he would take the secret to his grave. Finally, he drew in one painful breath and loosed a single word on it: "Sikorsky."

And then he was gone.

                                                        --------

It had been a hell of a day. Metro PD had helped with corralling the civilians and they had been able to at least ID the name that The Collector had been living under: Michael Kowlaski, though it didn't take a lot of digging to find that that was an alias. Until Aram uncovered more, it was the name they had.

Liz had shared the word that Kowlaski had given her with his dying breath, and while it meant nothing to Ressler it clearly meant something to her. It was a blackmail file, she explained. One that her mother had been accused of stealing. Had she? She said she hadn't. She also said that Reddington knew who had and that he refused to give the name up to save her life. Looked like they had their motive, even if all they could really do about it was unleash Liz and let her see if she could get Reddington to reveal even the slightest piece of information that might be helpful.

He hadn't and she returned to the Post Office as Ressler was finishing up a call with Metro PD and half collapsed into the seat at her desk across from his. She looked exhausted. Worn. As he hung up the phone, he wrestled with if he should ask her again what had happened the night before that had bothered her so much.

"Tom's alive," his partner whispered from her place, her voice so quiet that he thought he'd misunderstood her at first.

"Come again?"

She cleared her throat. "Can you close the door?"

"Yeah." He stood, swiveling around to close the door behind him and turned back to find her staring at him. "Did you say that Tom's alive?"

Liz nodded tiredly. "Last night when my mother called… her people had found a man outside my apartment building. He'd planted a bug in her hotel room and had followed Simms to my place. They'd taken him to her and she was questioning him. When I got there…."

"Holy shit," Ressler breathed. "How?"

"I have… no idea. He doesn't remember me. He doesn't remember us or anything that…."

"But somehow he ended up after your mother? That's a hell of a coincidence."

"It can't be, no, but I have no idea what's going on. He said he was missing time and working for some woman. I don't know who and he didn't stick around long enough for me to really find out."

"He's gone?"

"Wouldn't you be if some woman you didn't know said that you'd had a life together?" She reached up, hands against her face and Ressler had no idea how to help her. "He ran. That's what he was good at… before me. He said he spent his whole life running, so he ran from me." She swallowed hard and tears started to build. "I don't even know where he -"

Ressler stood at that and circled their desks. Liz was on her feet in a second and latched around him. He pulled her in, at a loss. Wasn't this just their lives though? The most bizarre, horrible things happened to her. The last seven years of her life had been… what had she called it? A FEMA disaster of a life? That was about right. "Liz," he tried, hoping he was saying something that would help more than hurt. "We'll find him, if that's what you want. We can find him."

She pulled back. "I want to, but he doesn't know me. It's like he never met me. Even if we did find him, what good would it do?" She sniffed hard, running the heel of her hand under her eyes and she cleared her throat. "It's late. I need to go pick Agnes up."

He watched her as she circled around, grabbing her purse out of her desk drawer with practiced stoicity. "Liz, if you need anything…."

"I know," she cut him off. "Thank you. Just… Let's keep it between us for now?"

"Done."

She tried for a smile and started out the door, leaving Ressler standing in their office with the weight of the new knowledge barreling down on him.

                                                        --------

The storm outside fit her mood. It was everything Liz could do to plaster a smile on her face when she picked Agnes up and nod and uh-huh wow at all the right times as Agnes babbled on about her day in jumbled sentences and excited rambles. By the time they pulled into the garage at the apartment building thunder was rolling overhead and Liz was glad that, if nothing else, they could go straight from the garage up to the apartment and they wouldn't get drenched. It was the single saving grace of the entire day.

Dinner, bath time, and a story later, Agnes was finally in bed and the storm still raged on outside. Liz spoke to her mother briefly, filling her in, before she poured herself a glass of wine and slumped onto the couch. Part of her thought she'd start crying again, but she was too exhausted. Too spent to work up the emotional energy to do more than stare blankly towards the kitchen, which only held her gaze because it was in her direct line of sight.

Kowlaski could have led her to answers - for mother and then eventually for herself - but Reddington hadn't dared let her have that. When Cooper wouldn't hand him over he'd sent a man to shoot him dead in the street. Whatever the Sikorsky Archive really was he didn't want her anywhere near it. He didn't want her saving her mother's life. Even when people came back to her they left again. Tom didn't remember her and while Ressler had been sweet in offering to help her look for him it wouldn't matter anyway. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. He was gone. She'd never see him again, and if she couldn't find out who really stole the Archive, her mother wouldn't be far behind him.

A sharp knock at the front door made her jump and Liz drew a breath, surprised at how unsteady it was. She blinked hard, clearing tears that had somehow crept up on her despite the exhaustion, and started for the door. She tipped up on her toes to peek out of the peephole, eyes widening at the sight.

Liz stepped back and quickly undid the deadbolt, throwing the door open to see Tom standing there. He was drenched, eyes rimmed red like he'd been crying too, and he looked worn down and terrified. "I…. didn't know where else to go," he managed, voice trembling and rough. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, sure if she spoke she would wake up to find it was a dream. So instead she reached out and carefully took his hand. He didn't pull away, but let her guide him inside and close the door behind him. They stood there in the hallway for a long moment and he was shaking. "She lied to me."

"Who?" Liz managed, but he was still there after the world left her lips.

"Gina. She said she didn't know how, but she knew… She knew your name." He swallowed hard. "I don't know who to trust."

"Me," she breathed, holding his gaze. "You can trust me."

Tom nodded and suddenly he was folding into her, her arms wrapped around his neck. They stood there for a long moment, frozen in place. It felt real. Solid. His breath against her ear and the way that his fingers wrapped into the fabric of the back of her shirt. He choked on a sob and she whispered soft encouragements. She had him. He could trust her. He was safe.

Outside the storm raged on, but in their home she held onto him like she might never let go again.

                                                        --------

TBC

Notes: Well, at least you didn't have to wait as long as you usually do for the Keens to be reunited?

This is where we're really going to hit the ground running. I've always preferred a 'them against the world' approach with the Keens (and, really, any badass couple like them), so watch out, world. By the end of it, all the cards will be out on the table, but it'll be a hell of a ride getting there.

Next Time: Tom re-meets Agnes, the Keens track down some information, and Liz gets hit with by an unexpected emotional blow.

[spidercakes]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: Peter is underaged (17), mentions of abuse/ abusive relationships, feminization (Peter).

*

Peter looks adorable in flannel pajama pants and a baggy shirt that says ‘I survived New York.’ His hair is messy and he looks younger than he is but it’s a good look or maybe Tony’s just a little in love. Its way too soon for that kind of thing but he’s never really been known for doing anything small so its not like he’s surprised at all by his feelings, even if he’s not about to admit them.

“So um. May confiscated all the lingerie she didn’t know I had,” he says, curling his knees up to his chest.

A mental image Tony didn’t need at the moment if he wants to concentrate on the subject at hand but he does his best regardless. “Well that’s disappointing,” he says and Peter laughs, shaking his head.

“You should see your face. You look like someone slapped your mother with a wet kitten,” he says and Tony snorts.

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” he asks.

Peter shrugs, “no clue, it just comes to me. But um, I’m grounded until further notice so that sucks,” he says, pouting.

“If you’re grounded how the hell are you on the computer talking to Tony?” Rhodey asks from behind Tony and he jumps.

“God damn Rhodes, make a noise!” Rhodey rolls his eyes at him and Tony chooses to ignore that rudeness.

“I need the computer for school so I bartered to keep it,” Peter says.

Rhodey snorts, “man I wish I had white parents,” he mumbles, walking away. Peter frowns a little but Tony gets the feeling May isn’t terribly strict more because Peter doesn’t give her a reason to be than letting her kid run wild the way his parents did. Well, alright, Howard didn’t care if he ran wild but if Tony broke some kind of expectation of his he didget his ass beat about it so its not like things were peachy.

“In May’s defense,” Peter says as his door opens. Tony tries his best to convey to close the damn window with his face or something but Peter doesn’t get the hint, “I don’t think she’s very good at grounding me.”

In the background May looks damnunimpressed. “Well apparently I’m going to have to get better at it,” she says and Peter’s eyes go wide as he whips around to face her.

“May!” he says, surprised. May stalks forward, eyes on Peter’s computer and he whirls back around, “okay love you Tony, bye!” he says and closes the computer, effectively ending the video call.

Tony stares at the screen for a few moments in shock when Rhodey walks back in. “Wait, aren’t his parents dead? How the hell did you manage to offend them? What’d you do, pull out a Ouiji board?” he asks.

It takes a second to get through Tony’s clouded brain to think for a moment. “Um, no. I pissed off his aunt. Got caught with my hand in the metaphorical cookie jar,” he says and Rhodey lets out a long sigh.

“What did I tell you about locking doors, man? It will save your ass from a crazy ass priest with a shotgun one of these days,” he says like that’s not a highly specific to him kind of experience. Well okay, highly specific to him and Carol but they were being chased off for wildly different reasons.

Tony rolls his eyes at him, “you remember that when you’ve got your arms full of hot omega and get back to me,” Tony tells him.

“Oh my god, no wonder omegas think we don’t know how to think past our junk. Stop giving us a bad name,” Rhodey tells him.

“In his defense I’ve been there. Not fun, but good for you man,” Carol says, giving him a thumbs up from the doorway. “Next time risk sexiling Rhodey again, probably less consequences that way.”

Rhodey frowns at her, “whose side are you on here? I would never get my damn room back if I allowed Tony to just have his way with it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Rhodes, I have class,” Tony points out. And so does Peter, plus travel time. He’s got plenty of time in here all things considered.

Rhodey squints at him, “I have class withyou asshole. Don’t listen to Carol I willfind a way to make your sexiling not worth it.”

“No he won’t,” Carol says, dodging a sock Rhodey throws at her head and laughing.

*

Peter sits awkwardly as May paces back and forth. He knows she’s worried but she shouldn’t be, he knows what he’s doing. Kind of. Well okay maybe he doesn’t know what he’s doing at all but does anyone?

“Peter,” she says softly. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing May, I’m fine.” He tries to put on an air of more fine for her sake because he doesn’t want her to worry about him, not when the one shitty thing that was in his life still is gone.

May doesn’t look like she believes him though. “Are you sure? Because you haven’t been acting like you lately and I’m getting worried here. Is this some sort of… I don’t know, latent reaction to Ben because you know you can talk to me, right?” she asks.

Peter clenches his jaw and looks away because he didn’t really need a reminder of that. He misses his uncle and if he’s honest he hasn’t totally made peace with his death but that’s not influencing his actions. “No, its not that,” he murmurs.

May sighs and sits beside him, wrapping an arm around him. He leans into it, pressing his face to her shoulder because it feels like its been a long time since they’ve done this and he kind of misses it. They used to do movie nights, but Ben was always the one who chose the movie and when they realized too late they kind of fell out of the habit. He thinks that neither of them really wanted to take his place. “Peter,” May murmurs. “In the last couple months you have broken up with a guy who by all accounts did not seem to treat you right and I suspect I don’t know the half of it, then you pretty much immediately moved on to someone new and I don’t want to consider what the two of you have been doing together, I found a bunchof lingerie in your room and I don’t even know when or even howyou got it, and you’ve been doing an awful lot of sneaking around lately. I’m sure you can see why I’m worried.”

Okay, from her point of view he gets why things might seem so off. “Its not like… I mean yeah Quentin pretty much sucked and yeah I know I moved on a little fast but Tony’s really great, you should give him a chance. He’s smart, and funny, and he’s really supportive and sweet and I really like him. And also you can buy things online,” he says in way of explaining the lingerie. Liz’s dad still has a PO box in the city so they all send their goods there and Liz picks it all up before anyone else can and distributes it all. Peter has no idea why Ned thinks his Star Wars collectibles count as contraband, he was a little surprised to discover that MJ mostly got her cousin to mail edibles from California, and he and Liz share a love of all things lacy. Their system works pretty well or at least it did until May busted him. Not that she knows about the PPO box thing and he’s not about to rat everyone out. No one is even sure anyone knows about Liz’s dad’s PO box in light of him going to jail and they aren’t about to say anything either.

“Peter,” May says softly, squeezing him a little. “Are you… sureabout this guy you’re seeing? Because I did find you two in a pretty compromising position,” she points out.

They’ve been in more compromising positions than that but Peter doesn’t mention it. He figures he will spare his aunt and also himself from spreading that knowledge around. “Yeah, I am. Like I said, he’s really sweet and supportive and stuff. You’d like him.” Probably better than Quentin, no one had liked him but both Ben and May let him come to his own conclusions even if their facial expressions told him all he needed to know about what they thought.

“I sure hope so because you told him you loved him before you closed your computer,” she says and Peter’s eyes probably triple in size.

“Please tell me you’ve told me that as some sort of cruel and unusual punishment,” he says, horrified. They haven’t even been together that long, definitely not long enough to go professing his love even if its true he’s going to die.

May frowns, “no, you said that.”

Maybe if he feels enough shame he can use it to power himself back in time and undo this mess.

*

Peter is distant but Tony figures that’s mostly because he’s been banned from most of technology on account of his aunt is trying to actually ground him. Tony has decided he should bridge the gap because he missesPeter and MJ is a good conspirer if he bribes her with driving time in her choice of car so he has it on good authority that Peter will be brought right to him. He looks at his phone, considering pulling a fire alarm to speed this process up when students start pouring out of the school. Yeah, he doesn’t really miss high school not that he went for long. Genius brain and all that, he got to skip out early.

Peter is walking with MJ, Ned, and Liz predictably and when he sees Tony he looks panicked. He’d be worried, but MJ has already informed him that his accidental declaration of love has freaked him out and Tony suspects MJ hasn’t told Peter he feels the same way because she likes the drama of it all. She will deny it, he’s sure, if he confronted her about it, but she doeslike the drama. So she and Liz shove him forward and Ned quickly takes his place in the line so he can’t try and slip behind them.

Tony grins and reaches out for him and that seems to be enough encourage Peter to come to him. He all but runs over, launching himself at Tony and he catches him easily, happily kissing him as he holds him up. “I love you too,” he murmurs when Peter pulls away. Its so worth it to see the look on Peter’s face because he glowswith happiness.

“I love you,” Peter says back, pressing in to kiss him again and Tony could do this for the rest of his life, hold Peter in his arms like this.

Someone lets out a soft ‘aw’ and Tony pulls away, noting the small crowd around them. Ugh, okay. He wrinkles his nose a little and lowers Peter back to the ground not that he pulls away much. He pretty much stays glued to Tony’s side, arms around his neck beaming at him. A slow clap to his left catches his attention and he looks over to find, presumably anyway, Peter’s ex standing there looking superimpressed about this whole thing.

“Great, Peter. You’ve made your point, now get rid of this guy,” he says and Tony squints.

“Its been months buddy, take a fucking hint.” He knows he texts Peter a whole bunch too not that Peter complains much. He suspects he doesn’t want to trouble anyone with it and Tony thinks that’s a bit of a mistake but he’ll mention that to Peter if he ever choses to say something about it.

Quentin, if Tony’s remembering the guy’s name right, doesn’t even bother to look at him and that kind of pisses Tony off. Especially since he’s decided to look at Peter like he’sthe authority on the situation as if he doesn’t want Peter to just do what he wants. “I’ve told you like a milliontimes that we’re done and we have been for months can’t you just give it up?” Peter asks, sounding exhausted.

Quentin takes a step forward and Peter is pulled from his grasp by Liz, who’s giving Quentin suspicious looks and ohTony so does not want to get in a fight with this guy. First of all he’s like a foot taller than him, which isn’t hard because he’s so short, but still. Peter mentioned football and Tony doesn’t like the idea of constant training to keep in shape. Not, he supposes, that he’s lacking his own. Lab equipment isn’t exactly light but that isn’t the same thing and he’s not much of a fighter. He prefers to keep things a battle of the brains, no risk of him losing that way.

“Why don’t you just admit that you don’t even know how to deal with Peter and go away,” Quentin tells him.

Tony rolls his eyes, “seem to know how to handle him much better than you given that he was in myarms like four seconds ago,” he points out.

God, this is why Rhodey tells him to keep his mouth shut but he can’t help it if its true. If the truth pisses this dude off so much maybe he should have grown the fuck up and pulled his head out of his ass. Its not Tony’s fault he didn’t. “Yeah, you don’t know shitif you let him walk around dressed like that,” Quentin says and Tony knows he’s making some type of face because people start laughing. Mostly omegas, he notices, not that he’s surprised by that. Alphas would be more likely to sympathize with Quentin for some stupid ass reason.

“I don’t give a fuck what Peter wears, its hisbody. Besides, unlike you apparently I figure when Peter wakes up in the morning and goes to look at his clothes he thinks to himself ‘I like this piece of clothing and it looks cute on me, I’ll wear it’ rather than ‘every alpha in the immediate vicinity will assume I’m sexually available and simultaneously try and get up my skirt while also degrading me and treating me like shit. I will wear this because I love being verbally abused and treated as a sex object! Its my favorite past time!’ Use what little brain cells playing football hasn’t knocked out of your head and consider how fucking dumb you sound,” Tony tells him.

Its not the right thing to say because he ends up crowded against his car and oh this is sonot an ideal position to be in but true to his personality he can’t just keep his mouth shut. “What the fuck kind of intimidation tactic is this? Feels more homoerotic than intimidating,” he says, leaning further into Quentin’s space and reaching up to touch his face. “I wish I could quit you,” he says in a bad southern accent that gets him shoved away for it and Quentin lurches forward but Tony panicsand he doesn’t mean to, really, but its like his hand moves on its on accord and the heel of it slams into Quentin’s face.

The results are crunchy and immediate as he falls back, clutching his face. “What the fuck?” he yells, blood falling from his hands. Tony looks at his uninjured hand because that was a fluke of some epic proportions and he already knows it was mostly Quentin’s own momentum that resulted in a broken nose. The fact that Tony managed to get the angle right and not injure himself is pure luck.

“No!” someone yells off to the side and Tony turns to find MJ throwing her book at the ground. “His throat was rightthere! Fucking throat punchhim! Is no one ever going to do it!” she yells, throwing her hands into the air.

*

They’re all driving back to Peter’s house silently and Tony’s real worried he over stepped his bounds because that seems like the kind of macho shit Peter has shown a distaste for and its not like he meantfor any of it to happen but-

“‘I wish I could quit you?’” Liz asks, leaning forward from the back seat of the car with questions all over her face.

Tony shrugs, “because he looks like that guy from Brokeback Mountain. The one that wasn’t Heath Ledger. You know the guy. Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he says, wincing. He gives a small glance to Peter, who isn’t looking at him at the moment. Shit.

“That’s… hilarious,” Ned says and they all start laughing, including Peter a little bit so Tony feels a little better.

“His face!” MJ wheezes out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so pissed.”

“That whole bit about being sexually harassed being Peter’s favorite pastime,” Liz says. “Great way to put that.”

“The look on Tony’sface when Quentin implied he should control what Peter wears,” Ned says.

“Yeah, that was funny but leads to some worrying questions about Quentin’s relationship with Peter,” Liz says, effectively ruining the mood.

They go back to being silent for a few moments before Tony speaks, “yeah, I don’t care what you wear. Its not my business and unlike that ignorant ebola virus I think your skirts look greatso I would be real fucking happy if you continued to wear them. But if you do or not is your choice,” he says. “If you do though those long socks look really nice with them,” he adds.

Peter frowns, “thigh highs?” he asks and Tony shrugs.

“If that’s what they’re called,” Tony says.

“Who doesn’t know what a thigh high is?” Ned asks.

“You’re only jealous because you can’t find a pair that fits,” Peter tells him, laughing a little.

Ned lets out an offended noise, “it is not my fault that the beauty industry discriminates against thighs as bountiful and beautiful as mine, okay?”

*

Peter figures he should maybe do some thinking about whyTony punching his ex is so attractive to him but for the moment he works on keeping it to himself on account of it’d be pretty embarrassing for everyone to get a whiff of that. Tony’s polite and walks him to the door of his building though so Peter figures he’ll let go of the pretenses and drag Tony into a kiss. He makes a surprised noise as he wraps his arms around Peter’s waist and lets Peter pull him in. He lets out a soft moan as Peter moves a hand to his thigh and Tony pulls it up to his hip.

“Fuck, who cares what your shitty ex thinks you’re sofucking hot like this,” he murmurs into Peter’s mouth. He moans, curling his fingers into Tony’s hair as Tony’s hand flexes on his thigh a little.

Tony lets out a soft noise as he pulls away, “okay, okay. I um. Maybe should go before I get arrested for public indecency,” he says, giving Peter a lusty once over.

Peter glances into the building to see if anyone is there and winces when he notices May standing in the lobby and she doesn’t even look angry or disappointed, she just looks worried and that’s worse. “Um. Yeah maybe for the best,” he says. Tony looks over, sensing the mood change, and winces hard. Yeah, this isn’t looking very good for him. He goes to pull away but Peter pulls him back into a kiss for a moment, “I’ll try and sneak out to see you soon, I have plans,” he murmurs against Tony’s lips. His face brightens significantly so Peter feels better about leaving him like this.

“Great!” he says enthusiastically.

*

May paces back and forth, clearly worried and Peter wilts under her gaze. “Do I need to have the talk with you?” she asks and Peter swears to godhe almost gags.

“No, I’m good thanks. We got plenty of that in school,” he says. Also Ben had awkwardly explained a few things a few years ago and he’s pretty sure they both would have liked to have been spared from that.

“Are you sure? Because it really seems like I should have the talk with you,” she says.

Peter is going to die of embarrassment. “Its fine May, I know what’s going on and it’s a little late anyway,” he says accidentally and May’s eyes basically double in size before she presses her hand to her forehead. “Can we please act like I never said that?” he asks fast.

“No, we can’t. We really can’t pleasetell me you’ve been using protection,” she says, looking horrified to be having this discussion.

She isn’t really alone there. “Yeah May I know what a condom is and how to use them can we drop this now?”

He can see her consider it and he really hopes she stops considering it because this is awfuland he hates it. “Okay, for now fine. What were you doing with your boyfriend? You’re grounded, remember?”

Shit, right. “Can you call the school and do something about Quentin because he won’t leave me alone and its been monthsand he keeps sending all these texts and he almost got into it with Tony and it would be really nice if he just backed off,” he says, tears springing to his eyes fast.

May frowns, sitting down beside him, “Peter whatdoes that have to do with anything? And how come this is the first time I’ve heard about any of this?”

Peter throws his arms around her instead of answering, letting her comforting hug back calm him a little before he explains some things.

[alyblacklist]

I have always felt from episode 1 this season that the woman Liz now believes is her mother is not her mother. She has zero maternal feelings for Liz and there's no father-daughter relationship between her and Dom. One of the Johns also said in an interview that they were planning on killing Katarina twice (last season finale and , but decided to stretch the arc, which sounds like she is not a very important character in the bigger scheme of things. Is there another way of reading that?

I do think there is another way of reading it, anon, and here’s why.  I hope you don’t mind a long response because you’re about to get one.

First, in terms of the recent JE comments that they considered killing Katarina in 6.22 and again in the midseason finale, the writers have entertained a number of scenarios over the years for various characters that they later concluded were bad ideas for one reason or another. Tom Keen is the main example who springs to mind – they planned to kill him in the Pilot and then again at the end of season 1 and changed their minds both times. His character went on to play an outsized role for 4.5 more seasons and a spinoff despite evidently not being very important to the ultimate endgame (and to much controversy). JE’s comments about how they loved Laila so much that they just wanted to write more for her really reminded me of how he used to talk about Ryan. Liz’s mother was supposedly dead in the Pilot, Red turned himself in “because of your father,” and Katarina wasn’t mentioned by name until near the end of S2. She first appeared in Cape May – an episode the writers didn’t even plan for but got pushed into writing by Sony and NBC – and gradually her role and legend have grown. But I guess I’ve never expected Katarina necessarily to be a critical player in the ultimate endgame of the series (though of course she could be, if they want her to be). They also considered killing Cooper at the end of S1 along with Meera, making Ressler an amputee after Anslo - the list goes on. So I read JE’s interview as simply talking through some of the ideas that they batted around in the room (including an early death in 6.22 that might have had greater shock value) and I don’t take any of this as a definitive clue on whether this is a real Katarina or not or her ultimate importance to the story.

Turning to the character herself, I’m not sure that Katarina has ever had what most would consider typical maternal feelings for Liz. Everything we know about Katarina’s feelings for Liz has largely come through the memories of others – Red, Kirk, Mr. Kaplan, Dom – so how much was true and how much was distorted reality or a tale told to Liz to make her feel better?

Red tells Liz from the beginning that her mother died of “weakness and shame.” By season 3, she’s the “cleverest, most resourceful woman” he has ever known. “The secret-keeper who disappeared.” A woman who “dreaded having a child. Almost aborted it,” but who supposedly had a change of heart after Liz was born and thereafter never thought she was “anything but a blessing.” She’s also a woman who was “never the same” after the fire, who found it “too much” that “[t]he man she loved [was] killed by the child she adored.” Red allows Liz to believe she basically killed both her parents by pulling the trigger on her father the night of the fire. By Season 6, we learn through Red’s trial that Katarina framed Liz’s father in March 1990 for the deaths of 134 sailors aboard the USS Gideon. Red assures Liz that her parents “loved you very much,” and tries to explain that things were “complicated.” Liz is not convinced.

Kirk in season 4 paints a rosier picture – that Liz was his “entire life,” that she was “all your mother and I ever cared about.” All while holding her hostage and ultimately dangling Agnes off a roof. At the same time, Liz reads her mother’s journal, recovered from Kirk’s house where her mother waxes about how Masha is her “entire life. She’s everything.” Truth? Or carefully planted fiction?

And then Kate’s memories (which Liz isn’t even aware of) portray a mixed picture. A Katarina who tells Kate she’s not allowed to love Masha, who kills a Russian operative in the kitchen with her daughter asleep upstairs (and who admits to Kate she considered killing her too), who continues an affair on the property of home she lives in with her family without concern for what Masha sees, who later drops her with a grifter in Nebraska who never wanted to raise a child and then fakes her own death and vanishes. Is she truly maternal or self-sacrificing? Or is she simply selfish?  

Dom’s Katarina is desperate and out of options. She vanishes because it’s the only choice after the unspecified things that she’s done. Dom’s memories show little concern for her daughter other than Katarina asking Ilya to care for her if “they” take her, if they get to her and a quick phone call to tell Masha she’s not coming for her anytime soon right before she fakes her death for the world.  

And then we have the distorted fire memories complete with all the questions about their reliability in terms of who was who and who did what. Katarina was there – we know that much – she may have come for the fulcrum, may have come for Masha, may have fought with Reddington. There’s a lot there that we just haven’t had confirmed yet.

So – bottom line – I’m not sure if it was fair for us to expect this hardened spy who has been living underground for over 30 years to be any more maternal than she was when she finally showed up in Liz’s kitchen. Laila did portray what I felt was some genuine emotion towards Liz and Agnes. And, for all her flaws, treated both of them better than Kirk did despite his apparent belief up until 4.08 that he was in fact Liz’s father. How else would a hunted but resourceful spy be expected to get close enough to her daughter - who currently works with her greatest enemy and is employed by the FBI - without arousing suspicion other than by a ruse?

And as far as Katarina not having a father-daughter relationship with Dom – if the story we have been shown is even partially or mostly true, we are clearly missing key events in between Rassvet and Belgrade that explain how we got from one to the other. What changed in between the time that Katarina said goodbye to her father in Rassvet and the moment that Dom and Ilya tried to blow up that car in Belgrade? Supporting the narrative that there are key events we are missing are Dembe’s statement to Red that “I’m not sure Elizabeth will ever be ready to learn about what you did to Katarina,” Dom’s statement to Red that “She’s gone because of choices you made for both of them. First Katarina and then Masha. As far as I’m concerned, you killed my entire family,” Red’s statement to Dom that “[s]he knows you tried to kill her, Dom. She wants answers, but she also wants revenge. You set her up, betrayed her–.” So there seem to be explanations for why things changed between Dom and Katarina that we are not fully privy to yet.

Bottom line: There are definitely inconsistencies between the Katarina we have seen as portrayed by Lotte and the Katarina we currently see as portrayed by Laila that constantly cause me to reevaluate my position on whether she is real or not real. This Katarina doesn’t seem to remember things we think she should know. She behaves at least somewhat differently than the Katarina of memory. Not to mention the show continues to avoid the one on screen moment that would likely resolve the mystery once and for all for most viewers: Red in a room with both women confirming to Liz that Laila’s character is her mother, Katarina Rostova.

But while you come down on the side of Fakerina, I still fall on the side of Katarina being real. If she’s not, it’s a terrible waste of time for the #3 slot on the Blacklist and what will probably end up being a full season by the time the arc resolves. If she’s not, it’s a story that should have been resolved at the mid-season finale at the latest and not dragged into the back half of the season. Not to mention I’ve yet to see a plausible explanation for why some other random woman would also have such a close relationship with Ilya such that she would drop everything in Belgrade to help him, and also be intimately familiar with relatively unknown details like Masha shooting her father. Was Red pretty dispassionate about her death? Yes. But was that in part him testing Liz to see how much she had learned from the woman? He saw the signs of struggle in her apartment. He said Aram told him the woman was her neighbor and had been watching Agnes. If he’s not connecting the dots that Katarina had her hands on Liz for some period of time (which he articulated to Dembe was the case in 7.10), he’s worse off than I thought.

I’m not sure what the explanations will ultimately be for all these disconnects, but I certainly hope we’re not spinning on wheels on another fake parent just to avoid killing certain parental theories that certain podcast hosts have managed to popularize in certain writers’ minds. Thanks for the ask.  

[facelessfrey]

Roswell New Mexico Season 2, Episode 11

- I guess I’ll finally write my “review” of this episode. Let’s see how much I remember. I think on the surface, it was mostly an okay episode. If I think about any of the plot motivation stuff it instantly falls apart and I have no idea what’s going on just like always. 

This got long so I’ll put it under a read more

- Once again there was randomly a week time jump so instantly nothing makes any sense. I mean I know Alex was out of town but it was more that that page was still somehow sitting there on the ground and only now did Michael step on it??? Ummm...sure. 

- I did enjoy Michael going after Alex though. I do have a Malex bias, so I I’m always going to enjoy when their plots revolve around each other. So from that perspective, I enjoyed him losing it and hitting Jesse with his crutch and zapping Flint. I liked his speech about Alex to Jesse and I’ll take as many “I feel in love with him” lines as they want to throw out. 

- I also liked getting the Liz and Diego history. Him only calling her Elizabeth was my only knock against him. Otherwise he seems pretty perfect. Let’s hope he remains that way. I liked all of their scenes in the present too with him helping out at the Crashdown. 

- It was nice seeing Max acknowledge Isobel’s sexuality exploration. Kind of wish we’d see more of that from her but there is way too much going on (but that’s kind of the problem). 

- Max and Kyle investigating together was also a good pairing that we don’t often see. I always like when characters are interacting with people they don’t normally share scenes with. 

- I don’t know that I liked that Kyle didn’t know about Alex’s supposed recruiting trip though. Are they friends or aren’t they? Make up your mind show. Because Kyle’s biggest regret is how he treated Alex in high school and Alex is bringing him flasks after alien heart surgery so they seem like friends or like they’re trying to be but then the show keeps telling me they’re not. So....

- I do like Isobel and Rosa together but I agree it does seem a bit weird that she gives Isobel a free pass on stuff that she doesn’t give to Max. I guess at least they had Isobel acknowledge that she’s trying to change and not be so invasive without asking. So that’s progress. And at least the show is recognizing it. 

- To the plot stuff though....and I don’t know why I bother trying to make sense of it but...all the parts are starting to come together a bit and then they just go and blow it all up in the end and I’m like “What?!??!!?” I just feel like if they were going to try and make Helena the big bad all of a sudden, it needed more effort. she should have been around for more than just one random episode. We should have heard more talk about her. Maybe Jesse mentioned her or Mimi or something, and this season. 

- And the whole thing with Jesse kidnapping Alex supposedly first and then Flint kidnapping him from Jesse and all of that happened off screen in this mystery week between episodes???? That’s just too much to follow and process. And why? Why did Jesse take him? Why did Flint? Is Flint working for Deep Sky? What is Deep Sky? Is Helena the head of Deep Sky? Why do they want a bomb? What does all of this have to do with anything?!? What did they want Mimi for? Is Evil Twin Jon Gilbert going to pop up out of nowhere next week and tie that in somehow? I just....it’s too much and too many unanswered questions and none of it makes any sense or has any of the proper build up. It has just been weird little fragments all season and not in a satisfying “I’m trying to put together the pieces of a larger mystery” sort of way. 

- Also....why are they saying Rosa’s name in front of Diego??? I’m sure he does not know the secrets. (Unless he was told off screen like everyone else) And what are they going to do with Rosa? I mean I know they had to deal with her drug addiction but I feel like they just shoved her off to rehab for a bit to get her out of the way but they just kind of gave up on her “reintroduction in the world” arc and now I don’t know if they’ll get back to that and do it properly in the last couple episodes. I mean they only people who would even care are like Wyatt Long and probably Sheriff Valenti...but still. 

- Which leads me to my earlier point of there being too much going on. Once again, I think Carina and the writing team, once they find a way to get back to work after all that is going on in this country right now (so I mean all this feels irrelevant) but....I think they need to reevaluate how they tell these stories in a 13 episode season. It was one of the things I really wanted for this season, to figure out how to tell a coherent story in the allotted 13 episodes rather than shoving too much plot into too little time. And they failed. 

- I just want them to tell a simpler story plot wise and allow for more on the character development/character arc side. If they did that this season, Michael and Maria’s relationship might have played better. Alex might have actually gotten to date Forrest rather than having a single date and some awkward encounters. We might have gotten to see Isobel explore her sexuality for more than one episode. Rosa’s arc might feel more developed. We might actually get to see all of these people actually being friends with each other. Maybe Steph is a character that might have worked better with more time??? (probably not). They might have had more time to build up the Helena stuff if she’d come in sooner. Just...so many things that could have been improved had they not gone bonkers with the plot like usual. But sigh...maybe next season.