#ill just make a calendar reminder for when my next contact is overdue and i have to chase (but hopefully i wont have to use it) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lambourngb · 5 years

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The product of too little sleep, lots of ‘Murder in a Small Town’ and rewatching episodes 12 and 13.

***

The Anbar Province left more than a physical mark on Alex.

He had learned lessons, both big and small. He could separate premonitation from subconscious recognition. He could type accurately from the footbed of a Humvee with no discernible suspension while a squadmate bled out next to him, locked in the importance of the mission. He could also wait patiently during the long hours that stretch between the spikes of adrenaline and monotonous boredom.

Roswell so far tested two out of three of those skills.

The disquiet left over from last night’s storm aged and blossomed from a vague feeling of wrongness to outright certainty. The mid morning sun was edging overhead, and soon would start it’s slow slide toward the horizon as he kept his vigil outside the Airstream for Michael. ‘Come back tomorrow, we’ll talk then’ was a promise that had Alex reaching for his favorite black leather jacket for comfort.

He refused to think of it as armor. Not every conversation was a war, but he was ready to fight for Michael. Staying away hadn’t kept anyone safe, it just robbed him of time he could have spent happy.

The crunch of gravel lifted his eyes from his phone, as a Chaves County sheriff’s cruiser pulled into Sander’s followed by one dark colored nondescript sedan.

Michelle Valenti had always been kind to Alex in the past, like her husband had been. She was always quick with a kind word when she noticed his eyes trailing to the photos of a happy family that dotted the Valenti house when he was growing up, mindful that his own house was bare of such sentiment. He never minded when strangers mistook her for his mother in the joint outings with Kyle as kids. The New Mexico sun baking them both dark and alike, another set of twins like the Evans kids. After Jim’s death, she had quietly shut down any talk of challenging the will and property transfer of the hunting cabin to Alex. It was only her insistence that he even accepted the keys in the first place and allowed the lawyer to finalize the will’s dispersal.

Her eyes were still kind as she stepped out of her vehicle, but her face showed no sign of friendliness. This was official business.

As always his mind flashed to the worst case scenario, Michael wasn’t here because he was dead. There was no known family to notify, just his employer. Max had to be dead too to leave this to his boss. Isobel had kept her connection to Michael quiet. Or were they all caught by an arm of Project Shepherd that he had missed? Last night’s glimpse of Michael, he had been covered in blood, and then called away by some painful telepathic urgency.

Alex clocked the dark sedan as government issue, raising more alarm in him.

Swallowing hard, he stood from the chair. “Sheriff, what brings you by?”

Two men exited the sedan, both dressed in similar versions of an off the rack dark business suits. The flair at the hip and shoulder nearly hid the firearms strapped to them. Definitely federal agents.

“We’re looking for Michael Guerin.” She peered toward the closed door of the Airstream, “is he here?”

“He’s not here.” Alex stepped closer to the doorway of the Airstream, subtly blocking entry. He didn’t give himself time to feel relief that at least Michael wasn’t dead or in custody. “What’s this about?”

Agent Bland Number 1 stepped forward holding out an ID with a shield. “Agent Rollins. Mind if we look around?”

Alex stiffened at the casual question. “Actually I do mind. Do you have a warrant?” There was no telling what sort of research on the ‘47 crash Michael had left out, but he was well aware a blood soaked shirt was still on the camp bed from last night.

Agent Bland Number 2 unbuttoned his suit jacket to pull his own ID out with a glance to the Sheriff. “I’m Agent Ross. We have permission from the business owner to be here, son.”

He bristled at the ‘son’ and reached for his own identification. “Captain Manes, United States Air Force, and you may have permission by Mr. Sanders to be here, but that Airstream is a residence with an expectation of privacy, and you need a warrant to enter it.”

“Is it your residence?” Agent Rollins asked, his eyes flickering to Alex with a disbelieving sneer.

Great, a government homophobe. What the hell was Michael into now. He saw Sheriff Valenti stiffen at the undertone by him. In for a penny, “Michael’s my partner, so yes this is also my residence.” He flicked a glance at Michelle Valenti, seeing no surprise on her face and met the eyes of Agent Rollins unflinchingly, “I did not give this country 10 years and my right leg to allow my rights to be trampled. So unless you tell me what’s going on, this has been a lot of fun but it can be continued with my lawyer.”

“Alex,” Sheriff Valenti cautioned. “We might have gotten off on the wrong foot here. We just need to talk to Michael, since his name came up in a routine missing persons investigation. I had to request help from the local field office because we’re a little short handed here in Roswell.”

Fuck. A missing person investigation where Michael’s name was brought up could only mean Noah Bracken. It was too much to hope for that Max Evans had competently covered for his absence while they held him in a pod. A prominent well respected attorney could probably disappear for a day or maybe two, but it had been close to four or five days since the gala.

The few details he had from Michael during that ill-fated drive to Caulfield were mainly focused on the frustration he had that Noah was out of reach in stasis. With Liz’s serum coursing in Noah’s veins, he couldn’t be questioned on their origins without accelerating the decomposition. Michael had mentioned it had been Isobel’s decision, exercising a long overdue power over Noah.

The ride home from Caulfield had been entirely silent, wondering what they were going to do with the likely lone surviving alien with knowledge of their origins seemed out of place.

Alex certainly wouldn’t miss Noah Bracken, but that didn’t mean the community wouldn’t. Barely 12 hours into the damage control of Caulfield and he had a new problem to add to the list.

“Who’s missing?”

“Do you know a Noah Bracken?” Confirming Alex’s suspicions about the visit.

“Everyone knows Noah Bracken. This is a small town. He and his wife sponsor or fund most of the main events around here. In fact the reopening of the UFO museum was just the other night that they hosted.” Alex glanced at Sheriff Valenti, “your own Deputy Evans is his brother-in-law. Is that why the call for federal involvement? Conflict of interest in the department?”

“Deputy Evans took a week of leave after the gala, and yes, his personal relationship to Isobel Evans-Bracken does disqualify him from the inquiry.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with Michael and what makes this a missing persons case? The whole town saw him the other night.”

“The ‘other night’, son, was five days ago and that’s the last time he was seen in public. He was due in court for a case yesterday. His secretary says he would have never missed court. His wife told his office he’s on a fishing trip to Heron Lake, but we have no credit card or cell tower data that says Mr. Bracken ever left Roswell. We have reason to believe from a witness that Mr Guerin might have been the last person to have contact with Mr. Bracken.”

It was careless of them to hold Noah in a pod without knowing his court calendar and public appearance schedule intimately. Keeping the cell phone turned on was truly amatuer hour as well. Alex was reminded abruptly that Michael and Isobel were civilians, and Max’s operational experience was likely limited to speeding tickets, warrant serving and drunk and disorderlies. Detaining a suspected enemy combatant for intelligence gathering was more in line with his own resume.

This was the type of battle he left Roswell at seventeen to learn how to win.

Warily Alex kept his expression even and natural, choosing his words carefully with his knowledge of events. “Michael and I were together, here last night. The last time Michael mentioned him was the gala. And I can tell you, personally I haven’t seen Noah around in a while.”

Agent Rollins exchanged a glance with his partner, “you’re willing to swear to that? That Mr. Guerin was with you last night?”

“Yes, we were together last night, and I spent all day with him yesterday.”

“You said everyone knows everyone here. Are you aware of any deeper connection with Mr. Bracken? A personal relationship?” Agent Ross picked up, plastering on amenable smile with the suggestive question.

“Michael is friends with his wife, but I don’t know of any other connection.”

Agent Ross sharpened, “How friendly with his wife would you say he was? Small town has a lot to say about Isobel Evans-Bracken and we’ve heard a lot about their close relationship.”

The Roswell gossip circle strikes again. Without the public acknowledgement of being foundlings together, it probably did look a little odd to the average bridge club members about why a society wife and fundraiser spent so much time with the local bar brawler. He knew with good reason why they kept their kinship secret but it was still inconvenient when rumors swirled about a carnal relationship instead of a sibling one. He remembered his own curiosity about them in high school before he got his answer from Michael in the form of a sweet kiss at the museum.

Alex bristled at the implication, “Michael’s not a cheater and we’ve kept our relationship quiet for the sake of my career and his safety. Like you said, this is a small town.”

Agent Ross looked up from his notebook, and commented blandly, “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was over a while ago.”

“It wasn’t when we started.” Alex smiled humorlessly, and extended his hand to Sheriff Valenti, “Michael’s off looking for a part, but I’ll let him know to contact you about setting up an interview with our lawyer.”

“We just want to clear this up, Alex and find Mr. Bracken. No one is saying he’s in trouble. We’re on our way over to Max’s next.” She squeezed his hand meaningfully, before turning away to steer the agents back to their vehicles.

Agent Rollins, ignored Alex’s hand pointedly, “We will get to the bottom of this, Captain Manes. And if need be, we’ll be back with the warrant to search this place from top to bottom.”

Long practice with bullies and his father kept him unyielding when the other agent stepped close in an attempt to intimidate. “You do that.”

He waited until the cars pulled clear of the entrance to Sanders before bringing his phone to his ear.

No answer from Michael’s phone. It went straight to voicemail the way it had this morning when he first tried to call. He mashed the disconnect button. He didn’t have Max’s number. The next best thing was Liz. He wasn’t the praying sort, but he really hoped Liz wasn’t at her lab in the hospital with no signal. The second thing he needed to do after locating Michael was gather everyone’s phone number.

#another google doc #malex fic #fake dating your ex because of the feds #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #new wip #rusty writing muscles

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