So, pulling up the Roswell New Mexico WIP I mentioned in my previous post, I also found some random snippets that I had forgotten about, so I guess I can share those now too. (btw, the wip actually has a name, which is unusual for me, usually I'm scrambling at the last minute to find a summary and a title, but this one is called
songs i can no longer listen to and I actually like it. Coming soon to a webpage near you!)
300 words set back at the beginning of season 1.
Michael had to take a minute when he was safely inside his trailer. He hadn't expected Alex. Not here. He thought he'd have more time, to make up a reason to skip the reunion and avoid him altogether. There was never a doubt that Alex would return for that, always one to keep up conventions. Turning up here, on the farm, the closest Michael had ever felt to home - it felt like the universe was cheating, especially with Michael already feeling off balance because of the whole Max and Liz situation.
Michael had been deliberate in not keeping up with Alex, knew he had done a couple tours overseas from small town gossip but had shied away from specifics. The leg, though - that explained a lot about that rash of fever dreams Michael had had for a while, worrying the hell out of Max and Isabel.
And Michael knew that if the situation had been different, if it had been Alex - well, as pissed as he is at Max, he gets it. Doesn't like it, doesn't want it, but gets it.
At least his history with Alex is a more than puppy love. Sneaking kisses in dark corners, fumbling hands in the backseat of his Jeep. At one time, Michael thought he'd leave Roswell, that there was something more for him. But Alex, good little Alex, had his life planned out, and Michael wasn't part of that.
The 'casual sex’ jab wasn't just meant to get under Alex's skin. It was the truth. Kinda. Michael didn't bring people here, didn't let them in, but there had been plenty of men and women over the last ten years.
None of them were Alex.
Shit.
If Isabel were here, she'd say it was too early for a drink, but it's really not.
225 words set at the end of season one.
Alex is at loose ends after he gets home. What he really wants to do is hunt down Michael, make sure he's okay - as okay as he can be considering all the shit that went down. He doesn't know what he'd say, though, even if he found him. Michael was quiet on the way back to Roswell, barely acknowledged Alex's “I'll call you” when he jumped out of the car. Alex has no idea where his head is at.
Kyle wasn't much better, whether because he was sorting through his own shit or because he picked up on the tension between Alex and Michael. He didn't ask what happened in the containment or about the explosion, just inventoried what he managed to grab from the control center before handing it over to Alex.
Alex considers - very briefly - calling Flint, just to make sure he made it out of the prison okay, but the impulse is fleeting and Alex dismisses it. It's not that he doesn't care whether or not his brother is alive, it's just that he meant what he said earlier - Michael is his family. Michael is who he's worried about, but right now there’s nowhere for that worry to go.
He ends up at the bunker, knowing sleep is far off and figuring he may as well start combing through whatever they've got.
845 words of something
( His plan is to drop the generator on the porch and leave. He doesn't even have to step away from the truck, uses his powers to move the machine because he's a lazy fuck sometimes, and why not? )