isn't anyone trying to find me // won't somebody come take me home
Five times Michael waits for his family to find him, and one time he finds a family for himself
For Malex Week Day 4: Free Day.
I've had this idea sitting in my google docs for a while. I read an article about playing hide and seek being good for children's developing attachment and I had emotions about Michael Guerin. I was inspired to actually do something about it today because I wanted to write something for @lambourngb who always gifts this fandom with her wonderful writing. Thank you for always giving me all of the Michael feels, and for encouraging me to write as well. You are a treasure to share a fandom with.
Title is from I'm With You by Avril Lavigne.
Read it on AO3
i.
He didn’t remember much. Just flashes of warm hands on his skin, soft hair brushing his face, and a voice in his mind telling him that everything was going to be okay. If you wake up and I’m not there, stay with the others. If we get separated, I will find you. I promise.
He sat on the cold ground and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to remember anything else. Willing the others to come out of their pods so that he wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t want to be alone.
He had thought about exploring, seeing what lay beyond the walls surrounding their pods. Maybe his mother was just outside waiting for him. Maybe she was here and didn’t know that he had come out of the pod. He wanted more than anything for that to be true. But he couldn’t leave without the others. What if he came back and they were gone? And he couldn’t bear the thought of exiting this cavern to look for his mother, only to find that the three of them were well and truly alone.
As long as he sat here waiting, his mother could be just around that corner.
So he sat. And he waited, shivering in the cool night air. Arms wrapped around his knees and heart wrapped around the hope that everything was going to be okay.
ii.
He still couldn’t understand everything that was going on. After the other children had come out of their pods, he had tried to tell them they just needed to wait. But they were scared and cold and hungry and eventually the three of them had climbed out of the cave with their pods. Each step they took into the empty expanse of desert stabbed a little further into his heart. His mother hadn’t been in the passageway leading to the cave. She hadn’t been standing outside the cave’s entrance. As the space between that place where he could hope that she would appear any second and the reality that his mother was not here grew, he had held tighter to the hands of the other children.
Eventually they were found. When the lights of the truck had shone into his eyes so bright it blinded him, he felt hope surge in his chest again. But then a stranger had gotten out, waving his arms and shouting words that none of them could understand. He offered them fabric to wrap themselves in and they stood there on the side of the road until another vehicle pulled up with colorful lights flashing on top of it. A woman got out and began talking to the man, too quietly for any of them to make out, even if they could have understood the words.
The three of them had been bundled into the back of her vehicle. He stared out the window, hand pressed to the glass, back toward the cave that held their pods.
Now that they were here, in this building with even more strangers who spoke softly to them in words he was just starting to understand and gave them food and water and a soft bed to sleep in, he still had to ask himself if they had made the wrong choice walking out of that cave.
The others seem just as concerned, he can feel their fear flitting around in his head. Especially the boy. The three of them had been brought to the main room of the building by a woman who had called herself a social worker. She had given them some crayons and paper, but he and the girl just sat, clinging to each other as the boy screamed and cried in their minds.
He tried to stop the boy as he picked up a red crayon and lunged at the wall, drawing the same thing over and over again. He knew that he should know what it meant, it sparked a flair of familiarity in the back of his mind, but even the memory of his mother’s last words to him was fading and the meaning slipped through his fingers like liquid. He clutched at his ears and tried to speak in the boy’s head. Tried to tell him that they were safe, for now. That everything was going to be okay. His mother would find them and she would bring them home. There was no calming him. He wasn’t even sure if the boy could hear him past the deafening echoes of his own distress.
Finally, scared and exhausted himself, and fearful of what would happen if the strangers saw the boy drawing such symbols, he had reached out and taken the crayon by force just as the girl lunged forward to hold the boy still with her arms around his body.
Just then, the door opened. A man and a woman walked in, holding tightly to each other’s hands. He watched them take in the scene in front of them. The boy still crying, the girl clinging to him with all her might. And him. Standing in front of the marred wall clutching tightly to the bright red crayon.
He was still learning the way things worked here on this strange planet, but he could see what they thought. The social worker rushed forward with a sense of urgency and he flinched back as she knelt in front of him. “Sweetheart, let me have that.” She carefully pried the crayon out of his grasp. He didn’t even look at her, eyes fixed on the couple who were alternating between looking longingly at the other children still clinging to each other and gazing at him with fear. That was a look he was already learning to recognize in this species.
There was a brief discussion that he couldn’t understand any of, ears pounding with the sound of his heart. Then the couple left with the social worker.
As the door closed, he caught a glimpse of someone else standing in the doorway. It took him a moment to recognize the woman who had brought them here, the one with the flashing lights on her car. She was staring sadly at the other children, but must have felt his gaze on her because after a moment she turned to look at him, before she flicked her eyes to look at something over his shoulder.
He turned to the mess on the wall behind him, grimacing. When he looked back, the woman was gone. The boy was still crying, though softer now, and he joined the girl in wrapping his arms around him.
When the social worker came back into the room, she carried with her two garbage bags and some paperwork. These people and their paperwork. It seemed like everything they did they had to write down. Of course he was unable to read the script. It made his skin crawl, like he was being studied and made a note of, found lacking.
The couple came in after her. The social worker knelt down in front of them and began to talk in the tone he had begun to think of as her ‘explaining things in great slow detail despite the blank stared lack of understanding on our faces’ voice. He didn’t understand much, but he got the feeling that they were going somewhere. When she was finally satisfied with her attempt at explanation, she stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, questioning, as she began to pull his arms away from the other children. She led him away from the other children as the couple stepped forward, the woman putting her arm around the two of them where they still clung to each other. He realized that the man was holding the bags. The four of them began to walk toward the entrance and he tried to follow after them but the social worker held him back.
He yelled and fought but he couldn’t get free. The couple had his siblings out of the room now and the door slipped closed behind them. The social worker knelt in front of him, whispering things into his hair that he couldn’t understand as he felt the echoes of his own despair screaming back to him across the distance between himself and the others.
Were they fighting to get back to him? Where were these strangers taking them? Why did they leave him behind?
Finally the psychic string linking him to the only familiar faces he had on this planet snapped and he went limp, sliding to the ground.
They were gone.
His mother hadn’t been there when he woke up. He didn’t know how to find her. He was surrounded by strangers who spoke a strange language he could barely understand. And the only piece of home he had left had just been taken from him.
He looked up at the symbol drawn over and over again on the wall and he realized the other boy had been right to be afraid. He remembered now, what it meant.
“Three.” He whispered, reaching up to brush against the markings. “There has to be three.”
And now he was all alone.
iii.
Michael wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, shivering in his thin hoodie. It was really too cold to be out here tonight, and if his foster parents found out he’d snuck out again they were going to call his social worker who would probably decide that this placement wasn’t a good fit and move him again, but he didn’t care. He told himself he didn’t care.
He’d barely been in Roswell for a week. What was the use of getting attached to a home and a family that weren’t his, that would never be his? Michael knew who his family was. Or, he thought he did. He hoped he did.
He tried not to think about it.
And really, his social worker shouldn’t get mad at him for running off to sit at Foster’s Ranch and stare at the stars, he was just following her advice.
“If you ever get separated, go back to the last place you saw your caregiver and wait for them to find you.”
Michael was pretty sure the last place he saw his mom was on another planet, but he figured the spot where their spaceship crashed on this one was as close as he was going to get.
He sniffed, blinking hard and trying to remember how the hell he ended up here. Just like always, there was nothing there but the empty feeling that had clung to him since the moment he’d tumbled out of his pod.
“There he is!” Michael jerked at the shout, tearing his gaze away from the stars to find two kids on bikes riding up to him.
Not just any two kids, he knew them. Something in Michael sang as he met their eyes, heart pounding against his ribcage, like it was trying to leave his body and go to them. He clenched his jaw and jumped off the fence, storming toward them angrily before he could do something stupid like throw himself into their chest and hope they wrapped their arms around him just as tight.
“Leave me alone. Get out of here.” He growled, hand reaching into his pocket for his knife on instinct.
The boy had already jumped off his bike, letting it drop carelessly to the ground. The girl stayed on hers, looking like she thought she should be ready to run. Good, let them be scared of him.
“You don’t remember us?” The boy asked.
Michael scoffed, shaking his head. “I remember you. I don’t know you .”
The kid would not be stopped. “I’ve been looking for you.” He gestured between himself and the girl, still perched on her bike. “We didn’t know your name.”
They’d been looking for him? Michael bit back the pang of want at hearing that. If they wanted to find him so bad, they shouldn’t have left him in the first place. “Michael Guerin.” He answered the question the boy hadn’t quite asked. “After nobody adopted me for a year, they just stuck me with the name of that trucker who found us.” He explained, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice, hoping it sounded more like anger than grief. “But all you got to know about me is I want to be left the hell alone!” He pulled out his knife, holding it in front of him. The only armor he had. “That's why I'm all the way out here, because I want to be alone!” Something inside him screamed that he didn’t mean it, he would do anything for them not to leave him again. He stomps on the neck of that foolish hope. The angry and hurt part of him that still remembered the way the two of them had clung to each other instead of him as they were led out of the group home insisting that it was better to push people away than try to make them stay. If they were going to leave anyway, might as well be on his terms.
The boy gripped the straps of his backpack but didn’t back away like Michael expected him too. The girl was still on her bike, but she hadn’t made a run for it yet.
“Okay. We’ll leave you alone, okay? If that’s what you want.” The boy held out his hands as he spoke, but still he didn’t look scared.
Michael nodded. It was what he wanted. It had to be. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
The boy licked his lips, turning to look at the girl who was still balanced on her bike. “But if you change your mind, there's this diner, the Crashdown. I'll be there every day . Okay?” He shrugged. “In case you want a burger or something.” The boy gave him a weak smile.
Michael scoffed and turned his back to them. He didn’t know what this meant, he didn’t know what they wanted from him. They had left him in the first place. Why were they all of the sudden acting like they wanted him back? He climbed back onto the fence, hoping that ignoring them would encourage the kids to leave faster. Michael hears the girl finally jump off her bike, hears the boy rustling with his backpack, but he doesn’t turn to look until he hears the crunch of gravel under bike tires.
On the ground where the boy had been standing was a blanket, some snacks and two cans of soda. The kids had their backs turned to him, walking their bikes back down the gravel road the way they had come.
“Hey! I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask you for anything!” Michael yelled to their retreating backs. They didn’t turn, or pause, or yell anything back, just kept walking away. Michael stared after them until he couldn’t see them anymore. Then he stared at the supplies piled neatly on the ground. He grunted and crossed his arms, looking back up at the sky.
Michael kept shivering until his stomach started to growl. He cast a glance out of the corner of his eye at the pile before sighing and hopping down from the fence. He stuffed everything but the blanket in his own backpack before pulling out the map of local attractions in Roswell he’d swiped from the library. Michael wrapped himself in the blanket and opened the map, looking under the key for a diner called Crashdown.
iv.
It was probably a dumb move to steal Alex’s guitar. He knew how much the guy liked music, saw the attention he gave to caring for the instrument. And Michael knew Alex wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself. He’d witnessed Kyle Valenti’s harassment of the other boy enough times to see that Alex Manes didn’t take any shit from anyone.
Michael could have been sneaky if he’d really wanted to. Could have slipped into the music room when no one was around. He could admit that he’d let himself get caught by the student cleaning out the band cubbies. Michael knew the other boy would come looking for his guitar when he found it missing. He didn’t try to hide, as he sat on the tailgate of his truck parked behind the bleachers where everyone knew he hung out after school. He just tuned the guitar and waited.
He didn’t know why, but he wanted Alex to come looking for him. Wanted to be found.
He felt a thrill run through him as Alex stormed up to him and snatched the instrument out of his hands.
“What the hell, Guerin? You can't just steal instruments from the music room. This is mine.” He demanded and Michael only grinned, spreading his now-empty hands in front of him in mock innocence. “I was gonna return it.” He assured the other boy. “And-and... it was out of tune, so... you're welcome.”
Alex gave him a face that said he knew how much bullshit that was, before glancing behind him at the sleeping bag tucked into the bed of his truck. He cocked his head. “You really do live in your truck.”
Michael turned to look behind himself, unable to face the look he knew would be on Alex’s face. One of two varieties: ‘poor little vagrant Michael Guerin’ pity or ‘filthy trailer trash Michael Guerin’ disgust. There was no in between in his experience.
When he finally turned to meet the other boy’s eyes, he found neither of those expressions on his face. Instead he was met with a look of such intense sadness and understanding that he had to don a cocky grin and spit out the first comeback that came to mind to avoid … something else.
“All the rumors about you true?”
Alex pulled back and straightened up, a look of defiance lighting up his eyes. Michael didn’t care if Alex liked guys like Kyle Valenti and his troupe of thugs snickered in fake whispers. He thought it was stupid how humans clung to such a strict binary of gender and sexuality. Feeling guilty, he ducked his head and pursed his lips, trying to figure out what to say to salvage this interaction. Trying to figure out why he cared about salvaging it at all.
Alex beat him to it, squinting one eye and continuing like he’d never asked the question. “You’re kinda lucky, you know.”
It was not what Michael had expected. Though to be honest, he didn’t know how to expect anything from Alex, the guy was always surprising him. He blinked in shock and looked down at his hands tangled together in his lap. Yeah, lucky. He’d heard that before. He’s got it all, freedom, independence. The only thing he was missing was four sturdy walls and three square meals and he’d be golden. Lucky.
Before he could voice any of those thoughts, Alex continued. “Things at my house suck.” He squinted again and Michael looked up at him.
Alex wasn’t talking about the usual complaints of a teenager not getting their way. He could see the truth behind the statement in the tight lines around his eyes.
There were other rumors about Alex Manes. Though much less widely spread. Michael had his own mental evidence compiled to back these up. The sweltering New Mexico days when Alex came to school in long sleeves that he refused to push up no matter how much Michael had seen him sweat. The times he’d seen Liz Ortecho slip him a bottle of concealer in front of the building in the mornings, as Alex ducked his head and made a beeline for the bathroom. And one time, when he’d seen the boy wince when Maria DeLuca threw herself into his arms on his first day back after being home sick for a week.
Michael didn’t stop to think how he had compiled so much data in favor of this rumor. Didn’t think about how often he found himself watching Alex Manes.
He just watched as the other boy started to walk away, guitar in hand, and then stopped. With his back to Michael, Alex spoke again. “There’s this toolshed. Out behind my house. It’s warm. And I go there when things get bad. So …” Without another word, message apparently delivered, Alex strode off.
Michael was left to watch his retreating form, contemplating the offer. Had it been an offer? He wasn’t sure. But a few nights later, when he found himself shivering in the cool desert air and a familiar longing ache took place in his chest, he found himself - not laying in the bed of his truck staring up at the sky, but slipping into an unlocked toolshed to find a pile of blankets folded neatly on an old futon. Despite the change in scenery, Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for his family to come find him.
v.
Word around the Wild Pony this week had been that Alex Manes, local war hero, was coming home from his deployment today.
Michael had tried not to care. Had tried to keep his ears from perking up at the mention of that name. But if he was being honest with himself, hearing news about Alex was half the reason he hung around the Wild Pony so much. If anyone in this miserable town would get news about Alex, it would be Maria. And of course Jesse Manes, but Michael knew he wouldn’t get any information about Alex out of that man. So he came to the Pony, and he drank. And he lied to himself.
Set up on a stool, Maria’s cheapest whiskey in his glass, and eyes locked on the door in the mirror behind the bar, Michael told himself that he wasn’t here to see Alex. He spent most nights drinking away his cowboy angst at this bar - why should he change his plans because Alex was back in town? What made him think Alex would come to the Pony anyway? He hated crowds and if he wanted to see Maria there were far better ways to reunite with his high school best friend than across a bartop while she was working. They probably had plans for later, just the two of them. He probably wouldn’t even show.
Of course he did.
Michael spotted him the second he walked through the door, and he felt all the air leave his lungs. He looked so different. Not just the physical differences, though those were shocking too. His hair shorn tight against his scalp on the sides, his arms and chest clearly banded with new muscle under the lines of his t-shirt. There was something else, the way he carried himself, the sharp dart of his eyes across the room. He was Alex and he was here in front of him, but he was also a stranger. Someone new.
Michael clocked the second Alex recognized him. The shock on his face, quickly hidden behind that blank mask he wore a lot during their last summer together. He only faltered for a moment before striding boldly up to the bar, smiling at Maria’s joyful shout. A few patrons turned to see what the commotion was about, and Alex - clearly uncomfortable at the attention - darted his gaze once again to Michael.
Who realized he was still staring, but he couldn’t look away now. He met Alex’s gaze with a defiant tilt of his chin and the other man quickly broke eye contact.
Alex settled on a stool a few patrons down from him. Michael flicked his gaze to watch the other man in the mirror behind the bar, only half paying attention to his drink.
He listened as Alex and Maria caught each other up on the last four years of their lives. Stiffened when the occasional regular came up behind Alex and clapped him on the back. Michael didn’t miss the way Alex flinched at the sudden contact and it seemed neither did Maria. She was always quick to send them off with a refill to their drink. Michael caught Alex giving her a grateful nod every now and then.
The night was winding down and it was getting past the time when he usually either picked a fight or stormed out, but Michael couldn’t tear himself away from the bar and the glorious balm of Alex’s presence. A few times they locked eyes in the mirror, when Maria moved to refill a drink or shout down some rowdy patrons. Every time, Alex looked away first.
Michael was trying his hardest not to look like he was eavesdropping, but he was pretty sure Alex knew.
Finally, Maria asked the million dollar question. “So, what’s next for Alex Manes?” She cocked her head at him as she slid a new beer across the bar to him. Michael couldn’t even pretend not to listen to his answer to this one.
Alex didn’t say anything for a few moments, licking his lips and picking at the label on his new drink. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat and Michael saw Maria narrow her eyes at him, psychic face fully engaged.
“Alex?” She asked, hands freezing in place where she had been wiping down the bar.
Michael could feel how hard Alex was trying not to look over at him, and he finally admitted. “I actually reupped. Got a good signing bonus, and-”
Michael didn’t hear anything after that. He stood up so abruptly and with such force that the legs of his stool squealed across the floor.
“Guerin!” Maria chastised.
He didn’t acknowledge her, just slapped enough bills on the bar to cover his tab for the night, slipped his black hat over his curls, and nearly ran out of the bar.
“Don’t know what’s got his feathers ruffled.” He heard Maria grumble as he left. Michael didn’t catch Alex’s response, if there even was one.
And it’s funny, because even though he’s the one who left this time, as he steps out into the cool night, Michael felt the now-familiar ache of being left behind.
+1
“How high am I counting this time?” Michael asked, hands already in place over his eyes.
He heard an exasperated laugh from near the doorway. “I already told you! I need three minutes to hide!” He heard the sound of little feet coming back into the room.
“Three minutes!” Michael opened a gap in his fingers and looked at the child now standing in front of him.
“Hey!! No peeking!” Aviv demanded.
Michael never thought this would be his life. Sure he’d dreamed about it enough that it almost felt real in his head. But actually having this? It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to get. If someone had asked him ten years ago what he thought his future would hold, he wouldn’t have been anywhere close to correct. Hell, even if they’d asked him a year ago, leading up to the showdown with Jones, he would have been way off the mark.
But here and now, as he opens and closes his fingers to the delight of Aviv, the five year old he and Alex had adopted last month, glancing over his shoulder to see Alex happy and relaxed on the couch laughing at his antics, he couldn’t imagine anything else.
“Stop it!” Aviv launched himself forward, covering the gaps between Michael’s fingers with his own smaller hands. “No cheating!”
Alex shifted on the couch behind him, nudging his head with his knee where Michael had sprawled on the floor in front of his husband. “Do I need to go get you a blindfold, Michael?” He asked with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows that sent a wave of shocked desire through Michael’s chest.
“Make him follow the rules Daddy!” Aviv piped in, sensing an ally in Alex.
“You heard him,” Alex agreed. “Papa better follow the rules.” Another wiggle of his eyebrows had Michael groaning.
“Alright, alright don’t gang up on me now!” He mock-complained, reaching out to tickle Aviv where he still stood in front of him. “I just can’t stand to look away from you, I’ve got the coolest kid.” He grinned at Aviv’s delighted giggles and thwarted attempts to escape the tickles. “But I promise to follow the rules. No peeking.” Michael diligently closed his eyes and then covered them with his hands for extra measure. “Three minutes, right?” He asked when he didn’t hear the sound of Aviv running off to hide.
“Three minutes. Then you come find me.” With that, Aviv dashed off to hide.
Michael counted obnoxiously loudly, slowing down and speeding up to the sound of Aviv’s giggles from where he had settled into his hiding place.
When he finally reached three minutes, Michael rose from the floor and glanced around the room, immediately noticing Aviv’s feet poking out from the bottom of the curtains. He turned and shared a look with Alex who was smiling fondly at their child.
Michael hummed, moving to stand in the middle of the room. “I wonder where Aviv could be hiding.” He spoke loudly to himself. “There are lots of places he could have gotten to in three whole minutes.” He proceeded to wander around the living room, looking in drawers and under furniture before finally coming to stand in front of the curtains.
“I’ve looked everywhere!” He hummed again, tapping his chin. “Wait, I know one more place to look.”
Michael pulled back the curtains to find Aviv smiling and laughing, hands already raised in the air to be lifted. Michael picked up his son and rested him on his hip, tickling his stomach and tapping his nose. “You finally found me!” Aviv declared with surprised glee.
“I finally found you!” He agreed, and Michael couldn’t help but smile back, just as delighted himself.
