by TJ Klune
They danced.
And as the song came to a close, Artemis stepped off his feet, lifting a single finger and beckoning him down. He bent over, and she kissed his cheek before she whispered in his ear, glancing at Nate, a coy smile on her face.
Alex tensed.
This couldn’t possibly be good.
Art took a step back.
Alex stood upright.
Billie, of course, chose that moment to begin singing how sure she was crazy, crazy in love, she’d say.
Alex turned toward him as Billie said she’d walk through fire.
He held a hand out for Nate, palm up toward the stars and an ever-bright comet, fingers slightly curled.
Nate stared at him for a moment, unmoving.
The determined look on Alex’s face faltered slightly.
“Nate,” Art hissed. “He’s asking you to dance. You have to say yes.”
That got Nate moving. He stood quickly and immediately stumbled forward, tripping over the chair. He nearly fell, but at the last moment, felt strong arms around him, holding him tightly. His face was pressed against a throat rough with stubble. He inhaled involuntarily, and there was a scent of clean skin and sweat and something he couldn’t quite make out.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He felt more than heard Alex when he chuckled. “That was… I don’t know what that was.”
“Shut up.”
“No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you move that fast before.”
“You’re still not funny.”
The arms tightened a little around him.
Nate had to remind himself to breathe.
And then they began to move.
Nate’s hands were trapped between them, curled into Alex’s flannel shirt, holding on for dear life. It wasn’t—they were off, just a little. Their knees knocked together more often than not, and Alex stepped on Nate’s feet more than once. If Nate wanted to do this properly, he’d probably step back just a little, put some space between them. But he was good with where he was, and Alex didn’t seem inclined to let him go anytime soon. It wasn’t the best dance in the world, but it was theirs, and it was enough.
Billie sang.
They danced.
Yeah. He understood heartbreak, all right.
It was all dust and stars.
He awoke, blinking in the dark, unsure of his surroundings. He was almost instantly calmed by the sound of a little alien snoring loudly at his side. He turned his head slowly. The air mattresses had been pushed together earlier that night, Art sleeping between them as in the truck. There hadn’t been a question of sleeping any other way.
He’d dropped off pretty quickly, the events of the day heavy on his shoulders. He didn’t know what to make of Peter’s farm, and his thoughts were dizzy with Alex, Alex, Alex.
Speaking of.
Alex was gone.
Nate blinked again, trying to clear the last remnants of sleep.
He pushed himself up.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, the air mattress shifting underneath him. Art grumbled quietly in her sleep, turning over to face away from him.
Nate looked around the barn. The window above him was still open, and the night air was cool. He stood, rubbing his hands together. Alex had given him one of his flannel shirts to sleep in. It was a little big, but Nate hadn’t complained.
From what he could see, Alex wasn’t on the second floor of the barn, unless he was hiding behind bales of hay.
He’d probably gone out to take a leak. Right? That was plausible.
That had to be it.
It wasn’t like Peter came and did anything to him. That—that was just stupid.
And of course now he was thinking about Peter and what he was capable of more than anything else.
He looked down. Art slept on, snoring loudly again. He made his way to the stairs, holding on to the hand railing tightly as he took each step down. The wood creaked ominously under his feet, but soon he felt solid ground and breathed a sigh of relief.
The doors to the barn were closed. Unless he’d gone out the front and then closed them again, Alex hadn’t left that way. He—
“What are you doing?”
Nate, standing in the dark on a farm in Pennsylvania, far away from everything he’d ever known, let out a slightly strangled scream before slapping a hand over his own mouth.
He heard a choking sound and turned to see Alex standing near another barn window, struggling not to laugh.
“You asshole,” Nate hissed at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you make a sound like that,” Alex managed to say. “Holy hell.”
“Yeah, well, see if you ever get to hear any other sounds I make, you fucking prick.” He blanched almost immediately. “I didn’t mean… just—Jesus Christ.”
Alex recovered first. “I’ll keep that in mind,” and it was a dark promise that Nate didn’t know what to do with.
So he deflected. “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you that same question.”
“I woke up. And you weren’t there.”
“I didn’t go far. I wouldn’t do that to either of you. Not here.”
Nate believed him. He hesitated, but then forced himself to move until he stood next to Alex. The air through the opened window was almost cold. He shivered slightly, elbow bumping against Alex’s.
“You’re shaking,” Alex said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
Alex sighed. “Just… Come here.”
Nate didn’t know what he was asking for. He didn’t know what he could give. But Alex raised an arm, settling it across Nate’s shoulders, tugging gently until Nate was pressed against him. It was warm and nice, and Nate was instantly on edge.
“Relax,” Alex said near his ear.
“Easy for you to say,” Nate muttered.
“Maybe.”
A beat of silence. Then, “Why are you down here?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Nate snorted. “You? I thought you could fall asleep wherever you wanted.”
“Most times. It’s… There’s a lot to think about.”
Nate waited. He didn’t know if Alex was going to offer more, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask.
He didn’t have to wait long. “This place. It’s… off somehow.”
Nate was a little relieved at that. “Right? I mean, they’re nice people and all, but it’s a little too utopic. It reminds me of those old tent revivals they used to have. Peter’s like a traveling salesman disguised as a fire-and-brimstone preacher. He’s selling them on what they want to hear.”
“And what do they want to hear?”
“I don’t know. But it’s—maybe all they wanted was a little bit of hope. It’s easy to get lost. It’s even easier to try and latch on to someone you think can show you the way.”
Alex grunted. “Maybe. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Art doesn’t seem to think anything is wrong.”
“I know. And that’s what worries me.”
Nate gingerly laid his head on Alex’s shoulder. Alex tensed, but it was brief. His fingers dug into Nate’s skin, a silent welcome. “There’s still something there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Between her and Peter. Or Oren. She was in him for… what. Twenty years? And the way she’s bonded to you and—and to me, it’s just… She was torn from him. They both said as much. What if something was left? How did she know to find this place?”
Alex shook his head. “I don’t know. Even after all this time, I don’t understand some of the things she can do.”
“Do you think she’s keeping things from you?”
“No. At least not intentionally. She… wouldn’t do that.”
Nate didn’t know if he believed that but kept the thought to himself. “How long are we g
oing to stay here?”
“I don’t know. However long she thinks we need to. Or however long it takes for me to put us in the truck and drive. Whichever comes first.”
Nate looked out the window at the night sky. He found Cassiopeia almost immediately. His gaze shifted toward Markham-Tripp, brighter than it’d ever been. It looked as if it were streaking across the sky, its tail seemingly longer than it’d been the night before. And then he asked the most ridiculous question of his life. “What are the chances of there actually being a UFO in that thing?”
Alex laughed quietly. “I don’t think that’s very realistic.”
“There’s a little girl upstairs who’s an alien and can move things with her mind.”
“Right. No. I don’t think there’s a UFO in the tail of the comet. That’s for the crackpot conspiracy theorists.”
“The same ones that have said we’ve been visited before when we actually have?”
“Not like… not like they think.”
Nate stepped away, suddenly frustrated. Alex’s arm dropped back down to his side. “That we know of. How many other Mountains are there?”
“I don’t… What are you saying?”
“Alex,” Nate said, exasperated. “You can’t possibly think this is isolated. What if there are others? What if—”
“I don’t care about others,” Alex said, that familiar scowl returning. “This isn’t about them. It’s about her.”
“I know that. But—what if? What if there are more? What if there are other little girls that—”
“Don’t.”
Nate shook his head. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re trying to say. This isn’t a story, Nate. This isn’t a fucking lead that you can chase down so that you can get back whatever it is you think you lost before. You can’t use this—her—to get your life back.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’ve thought it.”
“I—” But he had, hadn’t he? Of course he had. “Maybe. But not for a while. And you can’t blame me for that. This—what’s left, Alex? After this? What’s going to happen to us? What are we going to do? You can’t think everything will just go back to—”
“I hated her.”
Nate stopped talking.
Alex wouldn’t look at him. He ran a hand over his head and down the back of his neck. “At first. I hated her. When they took me to her. I… knew. What they were doing. Or at least I had an idea. Yes, I was in awe of her. I was shocked that something like her could exist. That I wasn’t—that we weren’t alone. It was a secret. The biggest one the world had ever known, and it was being told to me.”
He turned toward the window, resting his elbows on the sill, staring off into the night. The farmhouse was dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb on the porch. Nate went to stand next to him, making sure to keep a careful distance between them. Alex was radiating do not touch, and Nate needed to hear what he had to say.
“And she was curious about me. She talked. A lot. She asked me questions. If I liked horses. If I’d ever jumped from the top of a waterfall. If I had ever gone sledding. She told me about stories she’d read. Books about cowboys and bandits and dragons stealing princesses and the knights who came to their rescue. She wanted me to play board games with her. She wanted me to sing with her. She asked me why I didn’t smile. Why I looked angry all the time. Why I was mean to her. What it meant to be sad. Why are you sad, Alex? What happened to make you the way you are?” He chuckled bitterly. “And I hated her. Because she didn’t dance around my feelings. She didn’t—I don’t think she’s capable of that. There’s… nuances that she doesn’t understand. Verbal and physical cues she doesn’t get. She says whatever’s on her mind. Even when I yelled at her. Told her to shut the fuck up. To leave me alone. She wouldn’t.”
Nate hadn’t seen any of that when Alex had shown him before. But he had seen the woman. The boy. Which meant… he didn’t know what that’d meant. “Grief,” he said slowly. “The water guy said that you were part of it. Part of their experiment. To see how she would react in the face of grief.”
“Yeah,” Alex said hoarsely. “That’s what he said, isn’t it? And maybe I didn’t understand the complexities behind their thinking, but I knew… something. I don’t think it was supposed to go as far as it did. I don’t think they thought I would let it. That I would let her. In my head. In my… heart. I didn’t ask for it. It just happened.”
“But you didn’t fight it.”
“No. I didn’t. Because I learned that she wasn’t just this… thing. That she wasn’t just an experiment. A creature to be studied. A prisoner. She’s living and breathing and has thoughts of her own, these stupidly wonderful thoughts that make her more human than anyone else I know.”
He had to ask. He had to. “Who were they?”
Alex stiffened, and Nate was sure he’d crossed a line. But then, “We married young. She got pregnant before I deployed for the second time, and when I came back, her parents insisted we get married, and I—I said yes. Because it was the right thing to do. We’d been together since we were seventeen years old. It was—good. We loved each other. A lot. Maybe not as much as someone should when they get married, but… it was good. Mostly.” He wiped his eyes. “And the kid was born, and I didn’t know it was possible to love something so completely at first sight. He was early, and we were scared. They let me take emergency leave because it was touch and go for a while. He was so tiny, and he had to stay in the hospital for weeks. They told us that we needed to prepare, just in case. But I would sit next to his incubator and whisper in his ear that he needed to fight. He needed to prove them all wrong and fight. And he did. Somehow, he did. Two months after he was born, we took him home.
“I loved her. And him. While I was gone, she’d send me letters and pictures of him, and I’d show them to everyone, whether they wanted to see them or not. I told myself it was enough. That I could make this work. That I had more than most, and it was… good. It was going to be good. And it was. For seven years, it was.”
Nate closed his eyes.
“Stupid, you know? I’ve been pinned down by gunfire in the dead of night in a desert thousands of miles away from home, sure I was never going to see them again. I’ve seen friends blown up when an IED under their Humvee exploded. I’ve held wives and mothers when their loved ones were being lowered into the ground. I broke an extraterrestrial out of a government base while being gutshot and chased by helicopters. But I couldn’t stop her from leaving.”
Alex sighed. “It wasn’t fair to her. That… half life she was living. I was gone more often than not, and she… she wasn’t getting from me what she needed. That wasn’t fair. I didn’t see it at the time. All I could focus on was me, what she was taking from me. She left. She took our son with her. For a while, it was bad. We’d yell at each other, accuse each other of making our lives miserable. But there came a day when I didn’t have anything left to say. And so I listened to her. To what she was saying. And I heard her, I really heard her for the first time in years. We became friends. I think… I think I loved her more then than I did at any other point.
“He was nine years old. And it was something so simple. Car accident. Slick roads from the rain. A corner too fast. Her little car rolled into a tree. They told me it was instant, but I—I didn’t believe that. I thought of them trapped with me half a world away, calling for me, begging me to come save them like I saved people whose names I never even bothered to learn. But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there for them. And they died.”
Nate opened his eyes. Alex was staring up at the sky. Nate reached over and took his hand. Alex squeezed it tight. “How long after did they bring you in to the Mountain?”
“Six months. They knew what they were doing. Because that kind of grief… It never really goes away. It doesn’t heal. It festers. And they knew that, I think.”
“
And so you hated her.”
“Yeah,” Alex said. “I did. They were nothing alike. Her and him. He was… quiet. Always watching. She never stopped talking. He had this little laugh where he’d breathe out quickly through his nose. She was loud when she was happy. She wasn’t him. He wasn’t her.”
“What changed?” Nate asked.
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Not really. It… One day, I just stopped. Stopped being angry. Stopped blaming her. Myself. The open wound became a scar, and it didn’t hurt as it once had. She knew it too. She told me once, a long time later, that when she made me laugh for the first time, it was the greatest thing she’s ever done.”
Nate bumped his shoulder against Alex’s. “Can’t say I disagree. I might have felt the same way when I heard it for the first time.”
Alex cracked the barest of smiles. “You both need to set the bar a little higher.”
“Har-har. You’re still not funny.”
“A little.”
“Maybe.” Then, “Thank you.”
Alex arched an eyebrow. “For?”
“Telling me.”
“You knew.”
“I guessed. I saw… them, when we were at the gas station. With the bond.”
“I know.”
“You wanted me to see them.”
“I don’t—maybe. Subconsciously? To be honest, I’m still not quite sure how it works. I don’t think anyone does.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you want me to see them?”
Alex sighed. “Really, Nate? You know, for a reporter, you’re a little clueless sometimes.”
“Journalist,” Nate corrected automatically, barely hearing himself above his rabbit-quick heart. “Maybe I don’t want to make any assumptions. You know what they say when you assume. It makes an ass out of you and—”
Alex kissed him.
It wasn’t earth-shattering. It wasn’t fireworks bursting. It was firm and dry, Alex’s stubble scraping against Nate’s chin. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure what was happening. But then he opened his mouth just a little and felt the press of a tongue against his, a quick swipe that caused him to whimper slightly in the back of his throat. Alex was breathing through his nose, and their hands were still clasped, the angle of all of it so damn awkward, but it was more than Nate had ever felt before in his meager life.