Burn It All Down - AHistoricDistraction - Red White & Royal Blue (2024)

Chapter 1: College

Chapter Text

MAY 2023

ALEX

Alex wasn’t really a morning person or a night person. He was an awake-when-he-was-awake person. It was easy to assume this was due to all the international travel, but Alex had been that way for as long as he could remember, long before he’d started jaunting between timezones, if not continents, a dozen or more times a year. Henry was more consistent in his schedule, though, tending towards being a night owl. Alex sort of suspected this was due to Henry spending a lifetime of only getting to be himself when out of the view of others, and thus feeling a lot more freedom when he was alone at night.

In general, this didn’t create too much friction in their relationship. It just meant Alex was frequently the one making coffee in the morning and Henry had a booklight that glowed red so he could read curled up next to a sleeping Alex without waking him. Alex liked that they had their own rhythms but still made it work. And, of course, Henry’s sleepy face whenever he shuffled into the kitchen in the morning in search of coffee was adorable. Which was exactly what Alex was looking at now.

“Here,” Alex chuckled, handing over the mug.

Henry hummed happily, taking it and sipping. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Alex said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You ready for your final today?”

Henry groaned, dropping into a seat at the table in their breakfast nook. It was in the bay window, looking out over the street they lived on. “You know, when I had that lovely, rosey idea of going back to school, I had clearly forgotten the horrors of exams.”

Alex sat across from him, bringing his own coffee. “Don’t lie, you love it.”

“I love the concept of it,” Henry replied. “A degree in social work with a minor in gender and sexuality studies will be massively helpful in running the centers, but exams.”

Alex grinned and shook his head. “I’m afraid I just can’t relate.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Silly me, I forgot who I was talking to. You’d have exams every week if you could.”

Alex bit back a comment on Henry being allowed to give him an exam anytime. If they went down that path they weren’t making it out of the house. Alex had a review session of his own today, with his last final being tomorrow. After that, Henry had one more final on Friday and then they’d be free for the summer.

“Come on, I’ll quiz you on the drive over, and we’ll get lunch when you’re done,” Alex said instead.

Henry nodded, looking grateful. “Thank you.”

As Alex loitered outside the building where Henry’s Concepts of Gender class met, he couldn’t help but revel a little in how content he felt. When Henry had decided to enroll in NYU as well, it had just seemed right. The whole experience of being on campus together, of sneaking coffee breaks between classes and studying side by side every night, it was wonderful. They’d even managed to find an elective to take together that worked for both their degrees (History of Gay Rights in the Western World), something that had been stupidly fun, even if the topic of the class was sometimes heavy.

It all felt right. There was a lot about their lives that was chaotic and ever changing, but their shared second round of college wasn’t. It helped a lot that pretty much no one on campus gave two sh*ts about them after the first week, far too engrossed in their own studies to care that a Prince of England and the First Son were walking among them. Sometimes people still stuttered a bit during introductions, but they got over it quickly. The campus became a bubble of normality that they didn’t really get anywhere else.

A flood of students started to come out of the doors and Alex unhitched himself from the wall, looking for Henry among the throng. When he found him, he frowned. Henry looked…shuttered. His jaw was tight and shoulders curled in ever so slightly. Alex made a beeline for him, one hand coming to rest on Henry’s elbow.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asked, voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard.

Henry just gave one single, tight shake of his head and kept walking. Alex frowned, but slid his hand down to take Henry’s and followed him. Henry squeezed his hand tightly, still not saying anything, and led them to the waiting car. Alex asked their driver to give them a minute, then climbed into the back with Henry. As soon as the door clicked shut Henry was holding his phone out towards Alex, his email pulled up. Alex took it warily, reading as Henry slumped back in his seat, eyes closed.

It was from Mary. A long, drawn-out admonishment about a podcast interview Henry had done recently where he had subtly (or, as Mary seemed to think, loudly) proclaimed his dislike of the British Museum’s unwillingness to repatriate items. She was demanding he return to England immediately after the conclusion of his exams for an apology tour.

Alex read the email twice before setting the phone down and turning to Henry, who hadn’t moved. “Do you want to talk about it now, or when we get home?” Alex asked.

Henry was silent for a long moment. “Home.”

Alex nodded and rapped his knuckles on the window to indicate for their driver to join them. The man, one of Henry’s guards today, did. As they were driven home, Alex took Henry’s hand once more, gently running his thumb back and forth over Henry’s skin. Alex couldn’t help but stare at him the whole way, couldn’t help but contrast what he saw now with what he’d seen that morning. Henry had been so much happier earlier. Fidgety about his final, sure, but still relaxed and at ease with the world and himself. But all it took was one single email from his grandmother and he’d completely locked up.

Once at the brownstone they both went inside, still not speaking. Alex gently took Henry’s bag, slipped his thin coat off his shoulders, and helped him toe out of his shoes. Henry, for his part, just kind of let it happen. Even David coming up and winding in concerned circles around Henry’s legs didn’t illicit much of a reaction. It worried Alex a little, but he also recognized the quiet for what it was: Henry actually processing what he was feeling.

Years ago, when they’d first met, Henry had always hidden himself and his feelings behind the mask royalty had created for him. He’d kept everything he truly felt locked away in his head, never letting it out, even to himself many times. Now that he’d had a few years to unlearn those things, at least to the extent he could be open around Alex and their friends, the need to internally process still remained. The difference was that now he would, eventually, let Alex in to help. Alex just had to wait. So Alex led Henry over to the couch, kissed his forehead, then went to make Henry a cup of his favorite tea.

When Alex came back to the couch Henry took the tea and sipped at it while leaning heavily against Alex, who threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in. David joined them, curling up on Henry’s other side with his head in Henry’s lap.

“I hate her,” Henry said at last.

“Can’t say I disagree.”

“All I said was that I think people have a right to want to reclaim their histories. I didn’t even mention the bloody museum.” Henry’s fingers drummed against the side of his cup as he stared out into the room, eyes focused on nothing.

Alex ruminated on what to say next, because he knew he had to be careful about how he did it. “She’s always going to find fault somehow, Henry.”

Henry huffed. “I’m aware. She hates me even more than I hate her.”

Alex took a deep breath. “So why…why keep doing this, Henry? Why stay a part of that system, a part of her system, when all it does is cause you pain?”

Henry stiffened slightly, then slowly sat up and turned to face Alex. “You’re talking about leaving my family?”

Alex sat up as well, but didn’t cross the distance Henry had put between them. This wasn’t a fight, just a tough conversation and they each needed their own space for it. “No, I’m not. Your family will always be your family, and the members of it that matter will always be there for you. I’m talking about leaving Mary’s system. The Firm. The titles. The requirement to be beholden to ideas that aren’t your own and that you don’t agree with.”

Slowly, Henry reached out and set his cup on a coaster on their coffee table. He stared into its dregs for a long, long time without saying anything.

“I…I can’t, Alex. I can’t.” Henry shook his head, still staring into his cup.

“Tell me why,” Alex said gently. “Because I don’t understand. I feel like I’ve gotten a pretty good look at the whole royal system over the last three years, even if that look still has nothing on what growing up in it must have been like. I understand why you’ve stayed for as long as you have, but I don’t get why you still do.”

“Because I’m scared, Alex!” Henry said, his breath hitching. He dropped his head into his hands, shoulders still tight. “I’m scared.”

Alex kept his tone soft. “Of what? You’ve built such a good life for yourself, Henry. And I’m not even talking about us when I say that. The charities, the new degree, the brownstone, your queries to literary agents. You have a place to land now, and people to catch you.”

Henry pulled his head up and hands together so that his lips were resting against the tips of his fingers, his chin on his thumbs. He looked at Alex out of the corner of still worried eyes. “Alex, you don’t…you don’t understand how mad my leaving would make her. You’ve never seen her truly angry. If I left it…it would be the ultimate condemnation to her and her ideals. She would destroy me over and over again just to claw back a modicum of the respect she would feel like my leaving cost her, cost the dignity of the crown.”

Alex sighed, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. “We could figure it out. We made it through what Richards did to us and while I definitely don’t want to go through something like that again I just…I can’t keep watching you get hurt by her, Henry. I can’t.”

“Richards has nothing on her,” Henry muttered. “He ended up an entitled asshole. She was born one, and is the descendant of dozens more. She truly believes she was given the right to rule by God, Alex. That every action she takes is the true and correct path ordained by a higher power, and that every slight against her is a slight against that power.”

Alex had no response to that one. His relationship to religion had always been rather passive. Church on holidays and a prayer to an occasional saint when things weren’t going his way. He didn’t think there was a saint for going up against your boyfriend’s grandmother who thought she was an embodiment of god and had the power of a kingdom behind her, though. Probably you’d need a few saints for that.

These days, Henry’s relationship to religion was about the same as Alex’s, though for different reasons. Alex had grown up in a world where religion was a background static. Henry had grown up in one where he was an heir of a religious empire that had both birthed and burned nations. Alex had never tried to focus in on the static, because he hadn’t needed to. Henry had been given no choice but to pray to a God that he believed would revile him. Once Henry had come out, once he had started a life with Alex a few steps away from that whole system, Henry had stepped back from the religious aspects of it as well. He still went to church as required when he was in England, but at home in New York, he’d never set foot in a church. So now they both just weren’t particularly religious. But none of that changed what Mary was. What she felt put her in the right.

“I wish I had a good answer,” Alex said at last. “All I can say is that whether you decide to leave or not, I don’t think you can keep going the way you are. I don’t want you to keep going the way you are, to keep having days like this.”

Henry heaved a large sigh and nodded. “I don’t want to either.”

Alex reached out and tentatively rested a hand on Henry’s back. When Henry didn’t pull away, Alex let the weight of his hand fully settle there.

“I’ve got you, Henry,” Alex said. “I’ve always got you. We can figure it out.”

Henry nodded again. “I think…I think I just need a little more time to sit with it. To sit with the idea of leaving. I’ve never really…thought about it head on before. Always sort of tiptoed around the edges of the idea.”

“That’s fair,” Alex agreed. “Why don’t you just go do this stupid apology tour she’s sending you on, preferably avoiding her as much as possible, and then we can talk about it again when you get home?”

“Okay,” Henry agreed, leaning over to let his weight fall on Alex.

Alex wrapped him up and kissed the top of his head. If he was being honest with himself, the idea of going up against Mary was a scary one. He didn’t have to know her as well as Henry did to realize how powerful she was, how far her reach might be. But Alex had meant it when he said Henry had made himself a good landing pad. No matter what Mary might try to do to them, they could weather the storm. As long as they played it right, they could get a large amount of the press on their side, and an even larger amount of the general population. Depending what she tried to do, they might even be able to get the law on their side, though Alex hoped it would never have to go quite that far. In the end, a few stormy months would be nothing compared to the rest of their lives out from under Mary’s shadow. They just had to push through.

Chapter 2: Apology Tour

Chapter Text

MAY 2023

HENRY

Five days into his six day “apology tour,” Henry was starting to suspect his grandmother might have a larger plan in place, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it might be. The events she was sending him out to were what first tipped him off. They were all loudly public, much louder than she usually wanted him to be doing these days. Camera crews, news interviews, planned social media posts. Henry felt like his face had to be on every screen in England, which felt deeply unsettling given the last time that had happened, it was when he and Alex had been outted.

The second thing that tipped him off was that no one else was around. His mother had been sent to meet with some delegation in Hong Kong. Bea was in Switzerland helping to put together some sort of charity event for an institution Mary had long supported. Philip was busy visiting British troops stationed at bases around Europe. Even Martha had been whisked out of the country to do something in, if Henry remembered correctly, Italy.

It just felt strange. Like Mary had scattered everyone out of the way so that the spotlight would focus entirely on him and only him. Henry didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. So when he was summoned to an unplanned meeting with Mary, he was incredibly reluctant to go, but he couldn’t think of a good excuse not to.

She had summoned him to her private office, a smaller, though still large, room off the side of where she generally met with the Prime Minister. Henry nodded to the attendant stood outside the door who gave a courteous little bow in return, then ducked into the office to inform Mary that Henry had arrived, before returning to wave Henry in.

Henry swallowed heavily, squared his shoulders, and stepped through the door. Mary was sat stiffly behind her desk, hands placed flat in front of her, one on top of the other. Henry gave the customary small bow, then went and stood between the two chairs across from her, waiting for an invitation to sit down, though he wasn’t sure it was coming. She stared at him assessingly for nearly a minute before finally indicating for him to take the chair that would put him on her left. He did, remaining perched on the edge.

“Your enthusiasm these last few days has been rather lackluster,” she said by way of greeting.

Henry paused before answering, trying to gage where this was going and coming up empty. He decided to just stick with hopefully neutral territory. “My apologies. My exams took a lot out of me. Lots of late nights studying, and now jet lag on top of that.”

She hummed. “I would think a member of this family could manage to muster up more care despite being a bit tired, but I suppose my expectations of you continue to be too high.”

Henry bit back the urge to snap at her—it would get him nowhere—and remained silent. She was clearly looking for an argument and he wasn’t keen to give her one.

“No comment?”

“Not one you would find agreeable,” Henry replied, instantly regretting it. His mouth had gotten ahead of his brain and the words were out before he could stop himself.

She shook her head. “You truly can’t see the error of your ways, can you?”

“There is no error,” Henry told her. In for a penny, in for a pound. He didn’t want to fight, but he wasn’t going to admit anything he’d done was wrong, either.

Once more Mary paused for a long time. “How unfortunate. Very well then, I am tired of continuing to attempt to force sense into you. A whole week with no distractions from the rest of the family and still you could not step up properly. Things could have been so much simpler had you just put a little care into these events, but as you have chosen not to I suppose we must move on. You’re dismissed.”

It took Henry a moment to get his wits about him enough to actually get up and leave. He’d expected her to draw things out, to continue to dig into him about every little flaw. The abrupt end to the conversation left him disoriented enough that, once he made it out of her office and down the hall a ways, he had to stop to try and collect himself.

What the f*ck had just happened?

His fingers itched to pull out his phone and call Alex, but it was still the middle of the night at home and Henry didn’t want to wake him. In the end he settled for a short text, asking Alex to call him when he woke up.

Before he could think on it anymore, Shann appeared and informed Henry they needed to leave immediately for the next event; brunch with a local polo club. Putting away the conversation with Mary for now, Henry followed Shann out and climbed into the car.

Alex finally called him around two, and Henry melted into the comfort of Alex’s still sleepy voice.

“Just come home,” Alex said once Henry finished explaining everything. “You’ve only got a day left. Just forget it and come home. She’s already pissed at you.”

“Exactly, and I don’t want her more pissed at me,” Henry replied. “I can handle one more day.”

Alex sighed. “Fine.”

There was a lot of subtext in that one simple word, and Henry knew it. He honestly loved how protective Alex was of him over this, how willing he was to step between Henry and Mary’s ire, to shield him from it. But he didn’t want Alex to have to. The happier they could keep Mary the better, at least for now.

“I’ll be home soon,” Henry said. “Honestly, just hearing your voice has helped a lot.”

“Well I’m glad it has,” Alex replied. It was a testament to his simmering annoyance at the situation that Alex hadn’t cracked a joke.

“I love you,” Henry told him.

“I love you too,” Alex echoed, voice softening.

They hung up and Henry stepped out of the car, ready to be whisked into the next event, some sort of tour of an auto factory.

Shann drove him to the airport the next day after a lunch appearance at a local hunting club. He wouldn’t be flying back with Henry, however, instead leaving him with a single guard. Which was fine, and not at all unusual. Shann had some family things to deal with in London and Henry hardly needed a whole platoon of guards for a quick flight home.

“It’s just such a waste,” Henry groused from the backseat as they pulled up to the private airport.

Shann shrugged from the front seat. “I can’t say I disagree, but until the security threat is fully assessed, you have to fly private.”

Henry sighed, looking out across the runway to the private jet that had been arranged to take him home. He’d had a commercial ticket, right up until that morning when he’d been informed he could no longer use it for nebulous security reasons no one seemed willing to clarify.

Pulling out his phone, he selected a random British charity focused on habitat restoration and donated the cost of the flight to them using his royal accounts, not his personal ones. If Mary wanted to force him onto a private flight, she could be the one to pay to offset it.

Shann watched him knowingly through the rearview mirror. “You don’t have to keep doing this, Henry.”

Henry managed a small smile. “Alex and I just recently had a conversation about that.”

“And?”

Henry shrugged. “Undecided. But it’s at least on the table now.”

Shann nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll get your bags.”

Henry nodded back and they both got out of the car. Shann handed off Henry’s two bags, shook his hand, and asked Henry to text him when he landed. Henry agreed, saying he’d see Shann soon.

“Your highness, my apologies, but we’re going to have to make a slight detour due to weather,” his guard informed him about five hours into the flight. Henry didn’t actually know the man; he was new. Older, seemingly ex-military if Henry had to guess. Henry had been told his name earlier in the week when they were introduced for the first time, but there had been about a dozen people vying for his attention at the time and the name hadn’t stuck in his memory.

“How slight?” Henry asked. He was exhausted from a week full of running around at Mary’s beck and call. All he wanted to do now was get back to the safety and calm of the brownstone where he could take a shower and fall asleep in his own bed, curled up next to Alex.

“The pilot is still determining that,” the guard said.

Henry nodded. “Thank you.”

The guard gave a curt bow that was, technically, protocol, but it made Henry want to jump off the plane to get away from it. It was just another reminder of how much he didn’t fit in his old life anymore. The longer he spent living in New York with Alex, spent being a real person for the first time in his life, the more already grating royal protocols annoyed him. Every trip back to England became more and more frustrating as the years went on. This wasn’t even the first time he’d been dragged back for an apology tour after a comment that was a little too pointed or a little too biting set Mary off. It was just another one to add to the pile.

His mother tried to step in when she could, but she’d been having some health problems of her own lately that had kept her from participating as much. She hadn’t become addicted to anything after Henry’s dad died, like Bea had, but she hadn’t taken good care of herself either and, unfortunately, it seemed to be catching up to her somewhat. Alex had suggested that they should invite Catherine out to stay with them for awhile to give her a break from the royal nonsense, and Henry loved the idea, but hadn’t found the right way to bring it up yet. He’d been hoping he’d find time on this trip, only to arrive and find her already gone. He could’ve called, of course, but it was a conversation he wanted to have in person.

After checking his watch several dozen times, Henry tried to immerse himself in a book, which failed within about fifteen minutes. He didn’t have the focus. Besides, even with a detour they should only have perhaps a couple hours before they were landing in New York, so he just laid his head back against the seat, letting his mind wander.

“Your highness,” the guard said a short time later, “I’m afraid we are going to have to put down in Quebec due to the weather and fuel concerns. We will refuel and, hopefully, by then the weather will have cleared.”

Henry sighed, trying not to come off as too exasperated. It was a small private jet, after all. Barely enough to get across the pond on a good day. Putting down for fuel made sense. It was just so much more grating knowing he hadn’t even wanted to be on this plane in the first place.

“Thank you,” Henry told the guard, trying to remain polite. Once more the man retreated to the other end of the plane.

Henry tried to look on the bright side. Landing for a short time meant he’d be able to call Alex and relax into the sound of his voice until it was time to take off again. He could’ve called over wifi while they were flying, but he’d been informed upon boarding that this jet didn’t have any.

The landing was a little rough, making Henry grip the armrests tightly until the plane finally slowed to a stop. As soon as it stilled, he pulled out his phone, going straight to the phone app and tapping Alex’s name in the recent calls list. Nothing happened, though. A quick glance at the corner of his phone showed no signal. Suspecting it might just need a reset to find the local towers, he turned it off and on again. But his phone remained stubbornly at zero bars. Leaning over, Henry twitched open one of the curtains, wanting to get a better idea of where they were. He hadn’t expected to see an empty field backed by forest on the other side. There was nothing out there in the falling afternoon light. No buildings. No signage. No people. With a start, Henry realized there weren’t even any lights on the runway. And the runway was dirt. It looked fresh too, piles of scraped back earth along the edge that didn’t have a single weed growing in them.

Stomach starting to buzz with anxiety, Henry turned back around only to find an impossibly black gun barrel hovering about a foot away from his face. The guard—Curtis, Henry remembered with a jolt—was holding it calmly, other hand held out, palm up.

“I’m going to need your phone, your highness, and you need to come with me,” Curtis said, voice calm.

Henry stared up at him from his seat, body frozen. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. A terrible nightmare. He’d been moved to this plane specifically to avoid a security threat. Except…had there really been a threat? Curtis had been the one to tell him about it. Had he lied? Used it to get Henry under his control? Henry had never thought for a second that he should check something told to him by one of his guards.

“Now, your highness,” Curtis insisted.

Why was he still referring to Henry like he gave a damn about titles and ranks? Slowly, reluctantly, Henry handed his phone over, eyes focused on the gun. It was always so simple in the movies, grabbing a gun and twisting it away from the bad guys. Henry had watched his dad do it hundreds of times. Been there when his dad trained in it, even getting pulled into practicing with his dad on the stunt mats a few times. But this wasn’t a movie set and that wasn’t a practice gun made of one solid piece of bright yellow plastic.

Curtis gestured with the gun for Henry to stand and he did so, hesitantly walking in front of Curtis towards the open door of the plane. This was much worse. He didn’t like not being able to see the gun as Curtis followed behind him. Henry thought about making a break for the co*ckpit, pounding on the door and begging for help, but the second the thought crossed his mind he realized that the pilots had to be in on it somehow. Why else would they have landed here in this remote area?

At the door, Henry found not a set of stairs, but what appeared to be a collapsible fire escape ladder. Hands shaking, he gripped the edges of the door and turned around, climbing down the ladder one rung at a time. It swung back and forth as his weight shifted and twice he couldn’t quite find the next rung with his foot. When he made it to the ground he had the fleeting thought of running off into the woods, but what then? A glance around outside the plane had shown the same view on this side as the other: unlit dirt, a short expanse of meadow, then thick forest.

Curtis followed him down, gun back out as soon as his feet were on the ground. Another man, one of the pilots, appeared in the doorway to reel in the ladder before closing the door. Curtis led Henry to the edge of the runway and within moments the plane had taken back off, leaving he and Curtis alone in the falling light. Henry didn’t dare ask questions, and Curtis didn’t seem interested in offering any information, so they stood in silence.

Not long after the first plane had vanished over the horizon a different plane appeared from over a hill in the opposite direction and swooped down onto the rapidly darkening runway. It was bigger than the last, but still a smaller private jet. Skidding to a halt, the door popped open and another fire escape ladder was thrown out. Curtis gestured Henry toward it and Henry obeyed, climbing aboard without caring how ungraceful his scramble through the door ended up being. He was led to a back bedroom and as soon as he was inside, he heard the lock click firmly behind him.

The surge of panic was immediate. He scrambled towards the emergency exit but in just the short time he took to get to it the plane was already in motion. He half considered pulling it anyway, making it impossible for the plane to take off even if he couldn’t get out, but would they even care? Whoever these people were, they knew what they were doing. They’d probably just come shove an oxygen mask on him and keep going.

Sitting heavily on the bed, Henry tried to put the pieces together. To find some semblance of understanding to grasp onto. Whoever these people were, they had enough money to have built what seemed in all likelihood to be a secret runway in the Canadian wilderness, to have involved at least two jets, four or more pilots, and Curtis, a Royal Guard. Royal Guards were supposed to be the best of the best. Unable to be bought.

Unless…

A terrible thought started to gnaw at the back of his mind. There weren’t actually that many people out there who vehemently hated him these days, at least not powerful, rich ones. Except for one.

Henry had no idea how long they flew for, or where they’d gone aside from vaguely west. He knew they’d put down once more for fuel on another isolated dirt runway once the sun was up—Curtis coming in and holding Henry at gunpoint the entire time—and shortly after that they’d flown over what Henry realized was the Pacific. No one ever came in and spoke to him, and despite shoving his ear up against the door for hours, he’d never heard anything on the other side.

Once they were over the Pacific he’d torn apart the room, trying to find anything useful. But there was, as far as he could tell, nothing. It was just a room. A simple bed with basic bedding. Lamps screwed into the walls. Curtains on the windows. He’d been hoping to at least find a pen and paper somewhere, maybe in the drawers of one of the nightstands, so he could write a note and hide it away in hopes that it would be found by the right person, but all the drawers had been bare.

When the plane landed for the second time, it was in a stretch of scrubby red desert. Based on how they’d been flying, Henry figured they had to be somewhere in Australia, somewhere very remote. Henry half expected them to take off again but instead the door opened and Curtis was standing there, gun back in hand. Henry wanted so badly to try to resist. To be strong enough to try to resist. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just followed Curtis down the length of the plane and down another escape ladder.

Another freshly scraped out dirt runway awaited them at the bottom, and this time there was a car waiting. It was a standard black SUV with blacked out windows and Curtis herded Henry towards it. Once they were a few feet away, another man stepped out of the SUV and came over, a pair of handcuffs in one hand and what appeared to be a black pillowcase in the other. Henry froze, stumbling back a few steps, heart in his throat.

“It isn’t an option,” Curtis informed him.

Henry glanced back to see Curtis’s hand resting on the butt of his gun, which was currently holstered. Henry wondered how quick his draw was. Not that it mattered. A glance around showed no cover at all. There was, still, nowhere for Henry to go. Hands shaking, he held them up in front of himself. A tiny flare of relief went through him when the new man cuffed them that way, rather than doing it behind Henry’s back, but the relief was gone the second the pillowcase dropped over his head.

It took everything Henry had in him not to immediately start hyperventilating. He’d completely lost track of time, but he knew he hadn’t slept in well over a day, and he hadn’t taken his anxiety medication for the day either. Plus, he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, and not eating always made his anxiety worse.

Someone manipulated him into the back of the car and he nearly fell in, his mind spinning so badly now that his coordination was gone. The car jolting into motion finally unleashed Henry’s anxiety from the tight wall he’d been holding it behind and it swept out in a torrent. One fear built on another built on another. Who were these people? How many were actually involved? Could the person he suspected really be the one behind it? Was Bea okay? More than anything, he desperately wanted Alex. But was Alex even okay? What if someone had gone after him as well?

Henry bit his lip, trying to hold back sobs.

It occurred to him he didn’t actually know who all was in the car. Who was driving? Had there been other people inside Henry hadn’t seen through the dark windows? His skin crawled with the lack of knowledge about who might be around him that he just couldn’t see. About where they were taking him, and what was going to happen when they got there.

Chapter 3: Alex Learns

Chapter Text

MAY 2023

ALEX

“She’s just— she’s f*cking horrible, Nora!” Alex said, bottle of beer sloshing in his hand as he gestured in frustration.

“I am so proud of you for not punching her,” Nora replied, sipping from her own beer. She was perched on his kitchen table, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the tabletop rather than in a chair.

“I’m not!” Alex retorted. “Someone needs to punch her! I get that she’s a queen and thinks the whole word is her—her toy, but it f*cking isn’t! No one exists to serve her, not even her family! But she sure f*cking thinks they do!”

Alex was tempted to tell Nora everything, tell her all the grimy details about how badly Mary treated Henry, about how frustrated with it Henry was, how they’d talked about Henry dropping his title and getting out. But he didn’t. Right now, all of that was their private business, not something that should be shared with even their closest friends, not until Henry said he was okay with doing so. Which left Alex only able to vent his basic, general frustrations about the woman at the heart of it all.

“Did you know,” Alex said, pacing back and forth across the kitchen, “that she spent twenty-million-pounds on her horses last year alone? Twenty! Million!”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s way less than she spent on them. That’s just what she didn’t hide in weird tax shelters or legal loopholes. She just admitted enough to keep people from looking closer.”

Alex turned to look at his best friend through narrowed eyes. The odds of Nora having gotten bored one day and deciding to dig into Mary just for fun were, Alex had to admit, rather high. “Do you know something?”

Nora took a sip of her beer. “Not yet. That’s just a general assumption based on how all rich people like her operate. But I can know something if you want me to know something, because there is always something.”

Alex contemplated taking her up on the offer. A little protection against Mary might not hurt. If they could find something that might actually do a little damage…but no. This game wasn’t that dirty yet, and Alex wasn’t going to be the one to throw mud into the water.

“Maybe…eventually,” Alex told Nora. “We’ll see how things go.”

She shrugged. “You know where to find me if you change your mind. But, with that, I gotta scram. I have a lovely three a.m. meeting. Thank you timezones.”

Alex pulled her into a hug when she hopped off the table. “Thanks for coming over and listening to me rant for an hour.”

She squeezed him back. “What else are ex-girlfriends for?”

Alex chuckled.

“Give Henry a kiss for me when he gets home,” Nora said as she pulled away.

“Oh, he’ll be getting plenty of kisses,” Alex replied, watching as she toed on her shoes. Halfway into getting the second one on, she froze in place, eyes locked on her phone screen.

“What?” Alex asked, attempting to go over and see what was wrong only for her to snatch her phone out of view, looking up at him with wide, scared eyes.

She held out a hand to stop Alex coming closer as Alex’s heart started to race just from the look on her face. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. Hand still up, she looked back at her screen, keeping it tilted away from Alex as her thumb flew back and forth over it.

Alex couldn’t take it anymore, stepping into Nora’s space and trying once more to get a look at the screen. Nora tried to hide it from him a moment longer before she finally gave it up, her hand shaking as she passed him the phone. There was a hashtag search on Twitter pulled up and it almost made Alex laugh at the absurdity of it. #RIPPrinceHenry. All of the tweets seemed to be from the last ten minutes.

“Nora, that can’t be real,” Alex said, trying to hand the phone back. Henry was fine. His flight should be landing in less than an hour.

Tears started to gather in Nora’s eyes and she reached out a single finger, scrolling up slightly to a live news broadcast from the BBC. She tapped it once and sound flooded out into the room.

“While there is much we still do not know, it has been officially confirmed that the flight crashed roughly an hour ago, and that Prince Henry was indeed on the flight along with one guard and two pilots. Due to the remote area of the crash, the first crews are just now arriving on scene—”

The words faded out into a buzz as Alex stared at the footage of a huge burn mark in a forest, the mark surrounded by scattered debris and lit by a searchlight. That couldn’t be a plane. That couldn’t be Henry’s plane. There was nothing there. There was…there was nothing there. Henry’s flight was landing in an hour.

Alex’s phone buzzed over on the table, making both of them jump. Alex dashed for it, hoping with everything he had that Henry would be on the other end of the call, ready to tell him it was all a big mistake. That it wasn’t his plane after all, and he was fine. But it wasn’t Henry’s name on the screen, it was “President Mom.” Alex hung up on her and dialed Henry instead. The call didn’t connect. Alex tried again. The call didn’t connect. He tried to send a text, begging Henry to call him, only to get an error saying the text couldn’t be delivered. Desperate now, he pulled up the Find my iPhone app and did a search for any of Henry’s devices. Both his phone and iPad showed as unable to be located. He dialed Henry once more and still it didn’t connect.

The whole time, Nora was standing next to him, tears now rolling steadily down her face.

“No.” Alex shook his head, punching in Henry’s number manually this time, instead of just hitting his name in the contacts list. “No.”

Someone knocked on the door, but Alex ignored it, punching in the number a second time when the first call didn’t go through. People were talking behind him now. Alex ignored that as well, trying to send another text instead.

“Alex,” Cash said, voice tentative as he stepped around into Alex’s line of sight.

Alex shook his head, dialing Henry’s number again.

“I’ve been in contact with Henry’s team,” Cash said.

“No,” Alex snapped.

“We still don’t know exactly what’s going on, or if anything has been…confirmed, but for now we’ve gotta put you on lockdown to be safe,” Cash said.

Alex just shook his head, dialing again. Henry was going to answer. He was. The call just had to go through.

At some point Nora had gotten his phone away from him and herded him over to the couch. Alex watched as Nora fiddled with his phone until it was set to only let calls from Henry ring through, then she set it in front of them on the coffee table, curling her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Now they were both just sitting there staring at it.

Cash had gone through and closed all the curtains, and checked the locks on all the windows and doors, taking phone call after phone call as he did. Alex caught snatches of discussions about terrorism, plane malfunctions, weather, and search and rescue. It was the last one that made him finally reach out and pick up his phone again. He resisted the clawing urge to just start dialing Henry’s number over and over again, pulling up a bunch of news sites instead. One by one he went through them, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

The plane had radioed a change of course due to a Master Caution light coming on, though they didn’t know the reason at the time of that call. Fifteen minutes later, it had radioed in a distress signal. After that, it hadn’t been heard from again. The area it had been was over a remote part of Quebec, and there had been no witnesses on the ground. There was no access by road, and the area was thickly forested, making it difficult to get anyone to the scene.

Alex stared at the aerial picture of the crash site, the details burning into his memory as he tried to make sense of them. There was half a wing caught in a tree on the left side, and a few burnt seats, but aside from that nothing was particularly recognizable, at least not from the distance the photo was taken at. How could they be sure Henry had even been on the plane?

Even as he tried to lie to himself, the logical part of Alex’s mind fought to just acknowledge the truth. It had been two hours. If it had been the wrong plane, a mixup with air traffic control somehow, Henry’s real flight would’ve landed by now. Henry would have called. Would’ve been home where Alex could hold him in a strangling hug until the world felt like it was the right way up, then promptly never let Henry out of his sight ever again.

Times like this, Alex hated how logical he was. How detached he could become from himself when something bad happened. He didn’t want to understand it. He didn’t want to intellectualize it. He wanted it to not be real. He wanted his brain to just shut up.

Chucking his phone away from him without caring where it landed, he let himself fall onto his side, curling up tight with his hands over his ears and arms over his face.

Not much had changed come morning, except that his dad had showed up around two a.m.. Alex hadn’t wanted to talk to him, so he’d just stayed curled up where he was, listening to Oscar, Nora, and Cash whisper to one another in the kitchen. Now, as the sun was finally starting to rise, Oscar was sitting near Alex’s head, and Nora near his feet, but neither were touching him.

When a firm knock sounded on the door, it made everyone but Alex jump. Alex watched as Nora got up to answer it, finally sitting up when he saw that it was a Royal Guard standing on the other side.

“I need to speak with Mr. Claremont-Diaz, please,” the man said.

Nora turned around to look at Alex questioningly, one hand still on the door to keep the man out.

Alex couldn’t figure out what to do. Deep down, he knew what the man must be here to tell him, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want the conformation. Finally, one agonizing movement at a time, he pried himself off the couch and went to the door, aware that his dad was following him. Without saying anything, he stepped out onto the stoop, Nora and Oscar following, and closed the door behind all of them. Whatever was about to happen, whatever he was about to hear, Alex didn’t want it to happen in the house. Didn’t want those words, those memories, floating in the air there.

“Perhaps we should step inside,” the guard said, glancing up and down the street.

Alex noted a newsvan down on the corner, but he didn’t care. “Start talking or leave.”

“Mijo…” Oscar said, reaching out to rest a hand on Alex’s shoulder. Alex shrugged him off, staring at the guard.

The man sent one glance to the newsvan as well, then squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “Her Majesty Queen Mary regrets to inform you that it has been confirmed that her grandson, His Royal Highness Prince Henry of Wales, perished yesterday evening in a plane crash of undetermined cause.”

The words slid over Alex and fluttered away on the breeze, any impact they may have had stolen by the sickeningly thick formality of the statement.

“I don’t believe you,” Alex said, whole body locked tight.

The guard’s eyes softened slightly and he reached into his jacket, pulling an object wrapped in a plastic bag out of an inner pocket. He held it out towards Alex, and Alex tried not to see it. Tried not to see the evidence identification information printed on the bag. Tried not to see the familiar dark green of Henry’s phonecase, now half black and melted around the shattered screen.

Henry didn’t let his phone out of his sight.

Not since Richards.

He didn’t trust anyone other than Alex enough to let them carry his phone.

Henry didn’t let his phone out of his sight.

Alex felt his knees give out, felt hands grabbing for him, heard people shouting his name. But he couldn’t take his eyes off that phone.

He didn’t remember going back inside. He was just very suddenly on the floor next to their shoe rack, the door closed behind him. Nora was there, and she was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear her. So was his dad. Even though the guard had been left outside, and Alex could no longer see the phone, it was still the only thing he could see.

Henry was—

The next thing he knew, he was on the couch, but he didn’t know how he got there either. He felt like he was floating. Like nothing around him was real, or solid.

Henry was—

Nora was still there, holding his hands and talking to him, but his dad had vanished. Alex didn’t have any idea where to, or the energy to figure it out.

Henry was—

The images of Henry’s phone and the crash site flashed back and forth in front of Alex’s eyes. If Henry’s phone looked like that, if the crash site looked like that—

The sob that worked its way out of his chest hurt, ripping its way free and sending him curling over his knees.

No.

No.

No.

The front door opened and closed, revealing that Oscar had been outside. Locking the door firmly behind him, he strode over and knelt in front of Alex, reaching out and putting a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Mijo…” He trailed off, and Alex realized there were tears in his eyes. He loved Henry too, Alex knew that. Knew they’d actually gotten pretty close over the last few years.

“He can’t…he can’t…” Alex choked out, staring desperately at his father. “He—he was getting a new—new degree. And he’d—he’d just sent out more query letters under—under his pen name so that—so that his writing could—could stand on its—its own.” He was babbling now, and he knew it, but he couldn’t make himself stop. He couldn’t really get enough air to continue either, though, and eventually just broke down into sobs.

Oscar moved to sit next to him, gathering Alex up his arms and rocking him like a little child. “I’m sorry, Mijo. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Alex wasn’t sure if he passed out, or if he’d just been so dissociated that he didn’t remember time passing, but it seemed to very suddenly be dusk. The realization made his whole body tense up and he scrambled into a sitting position from where he’d been lying on the couch, trying to get his bearings. Dusk meant it had been nearly a whole day since—since—

He shook his head, refusing to think the words.

Nora was in the kitchen, he realized, talking softly on the phone to someone. He didn’t see his dad.

Desperate to focus on something, anything, else, his mind danced over all the little details of the room around him. The wool blanket that Henry had gifted him last Christmas, now scrunched in the corner of the couch. The pen Henry had left on the coffee table after his last editing session. The thermos Henry had left sitting on the end of the counter.

“Nora,” Alex choked out. He pulled himself to his feet, his whole body shaking. She was at his side in an instant, one steadying hand on his arm. “I need to leave. I need—I can’t be here. I can’t.”

Henry was everywhere in here, and nowhere at the same time.

“Alex—”

“Please,” Alex begged. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay here if Henry was— If Henry was—

“Alex, maybe you should go lay down,” Oscar said, appearing from the hall that led to their back door and patio, David at his heels.

Alex shook his head, backing towards the front door as the house seemed to be closing in around him, taking all the air with it. “Please,” he sobbed. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll go to my place,” Nora said, following him towards the door and casting a worried glance over her shoulder at Oscar.

“Go, I’ll take care of David and come over later,” Oscar said.

Alex was already halfway out the door and didn’t catch it if Nora responded. Cash was waiting out front, a car already there, and Alex practically fell into the back.

When they got to Nora’s apartment, it somehow wasn’t any better. The brownstone had been full of traces of Henry, but Nora’s was completely devoid of them. Henry didn’t exist here. All Alex could do was slide to the floor and sob.

Chapter 4: The House

Chapter Text

MAY-JUNE 2023

HENRY

They drove for hours and he couldn’t have tracked the turns of the car if he’d tried. All he knew was that the sound of the wheels on the dirt never changed. When the car finally stopped the door was opened and someone pulled Henry out. He didn’t expect the pillowcase to be yanked off, and it took him several seconds of blinking in the bright sunlight to actually be able to see anything around him.

They were standing in front of a moderately sized two-story house, though each level seemed quite tall. It was an older home in a Victorian style, and it looked rather weathered. There was dirt blown into all the corners, and bits of trash all around the yard. A rough hand grabbed Henry’s shoulder and spun him to force him to look at that yard. It was mostly weeds. Around it all was a ten foot high concrete wall topped with barbed wire. They’d come in through a a solid metal gate that was just as high and covered in more barbed wire at the top. It was closed tightly behind the rear bumper of the car.

The same hand, Curtis’s, Henry realized, spun him back towards the front door and marched him up the stairs. Inside the house was furnished, but barely. Just the necessities, nothing personal, and it all looked to be in about the same condition as the outside of the home. Curtis deposited Henry at a dining table in front of a dark laptop screen. He reached out and undid the cuffs on Henry’s wrists, then stepped over to a corner of the room where there was a small bookshelf. Coming back, he placed a Sydney newspaper in front of Henry before moving to the corner of the room and standing at parade rest.

Henry stared at the paper in horror. Bold letters across the top proclaimed: “Prince Henry: Killed in Plane Crash.” Below the headline was an aerial photo of a forest crash site, a huge black scar stretching through the trees. You never would have known it was a plane if the caption hadn’t told you. Inset into the bottom right corner was a picture of Henry’s phone, the case half melted but clearly his. There’d been an Instax photo of Alex smiling on the dock at the lakehouse tucked into the back. A private memento just for Henry. The charred edge of it was visible, peeking out from behind the cracked phone where the case had melted away.

It had to be fake.

The newspaper had to be fake.

It had to just be a way to scare him. Anyone could print a newspaper. It didn’t even make sense for it to be real. If whoever was behind this was going to fake killing him, why not just actually kill him? He had no value if the world believed he was dead.

Henry’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the laptop coming to life in front of him, the only thing on the screen an image of his grandmother. She was sitting in her office at Buckingham, the same one he’d been in only a few days earlier, drumming her fingers slowly on her desk, nails clacking against the lacquered wood.

“Ah, there we go,” she said. “I see you have been given the newspaper. Have you had a chance to read it?”

No.

“You know I expect prompt answers, Henry,” she continued, voice impatient.

No. No. NO.

Henry felt his chest constricting, his breaths coming shorter and shorter. Part of him had suspected this for awhile now, that she was behind everything, but he still couldn’t handle the reality of it staring him in the face.

She sighed, continuing to drum away at the table. “I see we’ll have to deal with your other weakness first before we can get down to business. Truly, I do not understand how someone as weak as you came from our bloodline. It is your father’s fault, I suppose, though I must say your mother turned out rather disappointing herself. Perhaps I should have married the Russian rather than the German. Nothing for it now but to get this mess cleaned up and get our line back in order.”

The one thought that rang out clearer than any other in Henry’s mind was that he should be dead. That if it really was his grandmother behind all of this, she had no reason to keep him alive if she didn’t want to. So why was he here right now? What did she want? What did she want? What did she—

A sharp slap bit into Henry’s cheek and he rocked back, the room jumping back into clarity. He gasped, clutching his cheek and looking up to find Curtis standing across the table.

“Thank you, Mr. McDuff,” the queen said.

Curtis bowed even though she couldn’t see him. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He returned to his corner.

Henry met her eyes through the screen and slowly lowered his hand, though his cheek still stung.

“Much better,” she said. “Now, have you read the article?”

Henry shook his head, lips pursed tightly.

“Well, you will have time for that later I suppose. And, just so we are clear—” she started holding up other newspapers and magazines one by one, all emblazoned with some version of the same headline. They were from all over the world, but it wasn’t until she held up a tabloid from New York that Henry had to finally admit to himself that it was real. All the others had featured photos of the crash site or his phone. But this one was a photo taken with a long distance lens of Alex on the stoop of their brownstone, only a couple steps outside the front door. He was in the process of falling to his knees, one hand desperately clinging to Nora’s arm as Nora tried to catch him. Someone else was there too; Henry thought it might be Oscar, but he couldn’t quite tell. Alex’s face, half obscured by whoever it was that had delivered the news, looked beyond anguished.

“No,” Henry moaned. They were real. The papers were real. The world thought he was dead. Alex thought he was dead. Alex thought he’d died in a fiery plane crash.

Mary set down the tabloid, smoothing her hand over the cover. “You had one last chance to behave properly this last week, and you did not take it even for a moment. I could no longer stand by as you destroyed the legacy of this family, young man. I do not care what the public seems to believe; they have been led astray by this disgusting modern era and you were only leading them farther. I’m sure we will have to endure some manner of…inappropriate memorialization of you for a short time, but eventually people will forget and move on and the scar you have left on this family’s legacy will fade with time.”

Henry didn’t know if he wanted to scream, or cry, or what. But he still had the same question as before. “Why am I here? Why—why didn’t you just kill me if you hate me so much?”

She heaved a sigh, like this was all terribly inconvenient for her. “I had hoped your brother would finally produce an heir so that this could be cleaner,” the queen said, managing to sound very put upon. “But as he hasn’t, I am forced to keep you around as a spare until such a time as the line is fully secured. There are, of course, your sister’s future children as well, but as the world is now well aware—thanks, once again, to your abysmal ability to function properly as a member of this family—she’s hardly a good candidate either. But at least she’s cleaned herself up, rather than running around the world flaunting her disgusting abnormalities. Still, she is currently fourth in line, with her future children being even farther down, and the closer we can keep things to the direct, ordained, line, the better.”

Henry gripped the table edge tightly, knowing arguing with her would do no good. “So, what, I’m just going to be locked up here until Martha pops out a couple kids, then you’ll kill me?”

“That Mexican has made you so vulgar,” she said, face sneering with disgust.

“Don’t call him that,” Henry snapped.

She continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Yes, you will serve your proper function as the spare, willingly or unwillingly. I pray every day that it does not come to that, as any children of yours would be at risk of inheriting your flaws. They would have to be conceived naturally, of course, to help negate that issue as much as possible. None of this modern nonsense about surrogates and artificial insemination. And I would obviously ensure they were raised by others to protect them from yo—”

Without realizing he was doing it, Henry grabbed the laptop and chucked it across the room. It snapped in half, the screen going black. When he turned, he found Curtis standing in the doorway, gun drawn once more, but held casually at hip height.

“Here are the rules,” Curtis said. “Breakfast is at seven am. Lunch is at noon. Tea is at three. Supper is at six. You will eat what it is given to you. Your room is on the top floor, in the southwest corner. You will be locked in every night at seven pm and allowed out twenty minutes prior to breakfast. There are cameras covering every square inch of the property. There will be a minimum of two guards present at any time. Aside from that, you are welcome to do what you like.”

Henry just stared at him, body still shaking with anger and fear and anxiety all bundled into one.

“Oh, and, as Her Majesty stated, you are currently still needed as the spare. But your life is not her priority, and she does have other plans in place should you feel that escaping to die in the outback is a better decision.”

With that, Curtis holstered the gun and turned around to stride out of the house. Henry hesitated, mind still focused on Curtis’s gun, but eventually went after him only to find the yard empty. The car was gone and Curtis was nowhere in sight. One look at the gate convinced Henry it wasn’t worth bothering with right now, so he strode out into the yard and started circling the house.

There honestly wasn’t anything to see beyond what he’d already noted, until he reached the back. Right in the center of the wall stood a regular sized door made of metal, a large camera housing mounted above it and a keypad under the handle. A quick glance to either side showed more camera housings around the perimeter that he’d missed before.

Knowing it wouldn’t do anything, Henry went and grabbed the handle of the door, jiggling it roughly up and down. Nothing happened, so he went back to the house instead and went upstairs, hoping to be able to see over the walls. He could, thankfully, but there wasn’t much to see. Directly around the compound were a lot of large bushes with some scattered taller trees, and off in the distance stood a thick forest covering low hills. There was no sign of any other people out any window Henry checked, not that he was surprised. There probably weren’t people around for miles.

The thought crossed Henry’s mind to set the house on fire. Dramatic, sure, but that would be the point. Even if there was no one close, someone would have to see the smoke column and come investigate, right? The outback was empty, sure, but this had been someone’s home, once. Someone had lived here and had to have had some connection to the outside world, even if it was distant. And, even if no one saw the smoke and came to investigate, if the house was badly damaged they’d have to take him somewhere else, right? Traveling again would be another opportunity to get away. And what were the chances they had another compound like this just ready to go?

What stopped him was taking a little more time to examine the house, and the world outside. Everything was bone dry, from the boards of the house to the plants outside. He generally didn’t pay much attention to news out of Australia—he hardly had the time—but he knew they’d had a bad summer with little moisture and were now suffering from a drought. If Henry lit the house on fire, the chances of that fire spreading were high. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t risk hurting or, god forbid, killing anyone else. So he put the idea away, at least for now.

Looking out the window told him something else, too: the top of the wall was not only covered in coils of barbed wire, it was covered in broken glass. Going over the wall wouldn’t be impossible, he figured, but it would hurt. The problem would be actually getting over it, something he was too tired right now to try and make a plan for.

Unsure what else to do, Henry continued to explore the house, hoping to find something else that might prove useful. He only had two hours until supper, so it wasn’t thorough, but he did what he could. It was probably about fifteen-hundred square feet, he guessed, and mostly unfurnished. The ground floor contained a little entrance hall with a parlor off to one side, a sitting room, a dining room, and a kitchen. There were a handful of closets and two staircases, one in the entryway and one tucked back between the kitchen and sitting room. The first floor had four bedrooms, plus what appeared to be some sort of sitting room off the largest bedroom. The first floor also had what appeared to be the only bathroom in the whole building. A new door had been added between Henry’s apparent bedroom—which was not the largest—and that bathroom. It was jarring in its bright white newness against the timebeaten original walls with their yellowed, peeling wallpaper.

There was an attic as well, which had some old junk that he planned to come back and dig through later, but otherwise the place was mostly empty. The parlor on the ground floor had one very uncomfortable looking couch that was a mottled orange color, and a rickety looking coffee table, while the dining room had only the table he’d been sat at earlier, which itself had only one chair. The kitchen had a fridge, which was working but did not contain any food, and the spot for an oven sat empty. That was it for furnishings downstairs. Upstairs, only his bedroom was furnished. Those furnishings consisted of a metal-framed single bed with a plasticy mattress, two thin blankets, and a thin pillow. There was a nightstand with a small lamp on it, and a rather large bookshelf against one wall. The bookshelf and its contents were the only things that looked new, aside from the door to the bathroom. Warily, Henry went over and perused the titles.

It was a mix of fiction and non-fiction, but every single one was by a famous English author or decidedly pro-England. There were also a handful of titles there that would’ve been perfectly at home in a conversion camp. Henry immediately gathered up the worst of the bunch and marched back downstairs to the fireplace in the parlor. He wasn’t one for burning books, no matter their contents, but he had a point to make and this was hardly a normal day.

Once at the fireplace, however, he found himself stumped on how to actually start a fire. There were no matches, no lighter. That would’ve put a stop to his plan to light the house on fire as well, he realized. He chucked the books in anyway and just stared at them.

“f*ck,” Henry muttered to himself, his feelings on the situation finally starting to catch up with him. Spinning around, he strode toward the front door and kicked it open, stumbling out onto the porch, hands clenched tightly at his sides. He could feel his chest starting to close up again, bursting with fear and anger and exhaustion. One single sob managed to escape his lips before he collapsed onto the top step, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he curled over his knees and gasped for air.

Mostly, he laid in bed. There was nothing else to do. He’d gone over the house from top to bottom, inch by inch, over the last month and found nothing helpful. An old trunk in the attic had revealed a photo album that, if Henry had to guess, was from the forties or fifties, and showed at least one of the sets of owners that had occupied the house at one time, but it didn’t show anything useful.

So he laid in bed.

He laid there, and wished he was smart enough to figure this out. To find the chink in Mary’s carefully crafted plan. But there didn’t seem to be one, not that he could see from within it. About once a week one of the guards left and a new one came—there were three in total and they clearly had some sort of living space of their own through the door in the back wall of the compound—and when one came back he’d always bring a pile of newspaper clippings. The clippings were about two things: the crash investigation, and Alex.

The crash investigation ones didn’t really interest Henry. So what if they’d “successfully determined” that the crash had been caused by a malfunction in the hydraulic systems? He hadn’t even been on the damn plane.

But the ones about Alex.

Reading those felt like dragging himself across hot coals. Not only because Alex was clearly suffering, but because sometimes it was hard to tell what was true and what was just the press exaggerating. The clippings rarely showed what paper or magazine they were from, which made it even harder to be sure what might be truth and what might be tabloid fodder. Had Alex really moved to Austin, or had he maybe just gone to visit family and the press had taken it too far? Had Alex dropped out of law school, or maybe just taken a semester off?

Henry hated it. He hated thinking of Alex suffering through this when it wasn’t even real, hated thinking about Alex having no idea that Henry was still out there, still waiting and hoping and praying for some sort of rescue. The only sliver of comfort Henry got from the articles was that Mary hadn’t gone after Alex as well. He begged the universe for that to stay true. For her to be smart enough to know that if she ever touched the First Son of the United States, things would spiral so far out of hand that there’d be no way to ever fix it.

Henry tried not to let himself think about the future too much, about what might or might not happen if he ever got out of here. He just stayed in bed, and waited.

Chapter 5: Numb

Chapter Text

MAY-AUGUST 2023

ALEX

He didn’t go back to the brownstone, and he didn’t go to the funeral. It was two weeks after Henry’s—. But Alex didn’t go. He heard about it. Heard about how it had shut down London for the whole afternoon, a miles long procession following an empty casket with his picture on top. The press had eviscerated him for not going, but he didn’t care. What was the point? Henry wasn’t in that box and even if he had been, he would’ve hated the whole affair. Hated how much it cost, how much it effected the lives of people he never knew and who never knew him. There’d been a lot of pride flags, at least. Henry would’ve liked that. Would’ve liked that he got to be himself long enough for people to mourn him that way, even if he’d deserved so much longer.

“Hey,” Nora said, answering her door for someone. Alex didn’t bother to look up from the couch and see who it was.

“Hey.”

Ah. It was Pez. Alex hadn’t talked to him in the last two weeks. Pez had called, and Nora had put Pez on speaker for Pez to talk at Alex, but Alex hadn’t responded. The same thing had happened with Bea. Oscar hadn’t had any better luck even though he came over every day to try, nor had June or Ellen. Alex didn’t want to talk, so he just didn’t. He slept on Nora’s couch, ate when she put food in front of him, got up to use the bathroom, and that was about it.

Pez came over and sat on the floor in front of Alex’s spot on the couch, leaning his back up against Nora’s coffee table. He looked like sh*t. Alex had never seen him dressed so plainly. Just jeans and a dark gray hoodie that was about the same color as the bags under his reddish eyes.

“The brownstone is yours,” Pez said eventually. “I don’t know if Henry ever told you, but as soon as he bought it, before you even moved in, he made sure that it would go to you if anything happened to him. He wanted to make sure his grandmother could never touch it.”

Oh.

“I spent the last week making sure it was all taken care of properly, because I think she did try to seize it, but it’s good. It’s yours, and so is everything in it.”

Okay.

“He left you some money too,” Pez said after awhile. “About five million, U.S.. The rest is being split up between our charities and a handful of others.”

As far as Alex was concerned, that’s what should happen to the five million as well. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it. Not the brownstone, not the crap inside. He wanted Henry.

Nora knelt down next to Pez and reached out to take Alex’s hand, squeezing it gently between her own. “Alex, honey, you need to let us know you’re at least listening, okay? You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to, but you’re starting to scare me, scare everyone. It’s getting to the point your parents are talking about having you hospitalized and I’m…I’m starting to agree.”

Alex winced. The last place he wanted to be right now was a damn hospital, surrounded by strangers poking and prodding and staring and, probably, surreptitiously sneaking photos and videos to sell to the press of the “poor, grieving First Son.”

“Sorry,” Alex croaked.

Pez and Nora both visibly relaxed.

“Don’t be sorry, Alex,” Nora said, lightly squeezing his hand again. “This is…I don’t even know what this is. But you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Alex took a deep, shaky breath, then forced himself into a sitting position, dropping his head into his hands, elbows on his knees. They were right, all of them. He couldn’t just melt away into Nora’s couch forever. But he knew if he gave himself time to think right now, he’d end up right back there. He just had to shove his way through, as hard and fast as he could, and then he could figure it all out on the other side. Yeah.

“How’s Bea?” Alex asked. One step at a time. Most important stuff first.

“She’s…struggling,” Pez said. “She didn’t go to the funeral either. She’s actually here, in New York. June’s been staying with her.”

Okay, good. Good. If anyone could hope to understand what Bea was feeling right now, it was June.

“When is everything mine?” Alex asked. “Who’s managing it all?”

Pez rattled off a bunch of dates and names of lawyers and accountants, saying he had it all typed up and organized in a binder that he’d put over on Nora’s kitchen table. Alex was surprised at how thorough it all was. He and Henry had talked once about last wishes, but it had been a laid back conversation sparked by a movie they’d watched, not a serious discussion. Pez told him Henry had actually put all of it together after the death of his father, only having to modify it once he met Alex. Alex supposed that made sense.

“I’m donating the five million too,” Alex said. “All of it. Every cent.”

“Alex, he wanted you to be taken care of,” Nora told him, voice soft.

Alex shook his head. “I can’t. I just…I can’t. I’m selling the brownstone too. I’ll use the money from that to get me through the rest of law school and my internship but I just…I can’t take that five million.”

Pez and Nora glanced at one another, but neither objected.

“Alright,” Pez said eventually. “Are you just going to buy another place in the city, then?”

Alex shook his head again. He still wasn’t really letting himself think. Just act. One decision after the other, figure out the consequences later. “Austin. I’m going back to Austin. I’ll find something there. Transfer for my last year.”

This seemed to make Nora relax even more. “Yeah, okay. Austin’s probably a good idea. It’s home, it’s familiar. What about all your stuff?”

Alex curled in on himself a little more. He didn’t want any of it, but he knew that wasn’t practical. And if he was selling the brownstone, someone would have to go pack up everything inside first. The idea of strangers doing that made him choke.

“We could go pack the place up,” Pez said gently, seeming to read Alex’s mind. “Me, Nora, and June. We can get it all put into storage for now, and then you can figure it out later.”

Alex nodded.

“I’ll bring you clothes,” Nora said. “Is there anything else?”

Alex took another shaky breath, dragging his hands down over his face as he looked up. “The books in my office, and all the school and work stuff in there. But not…not anything else in there.” The pictures. The knick-knack gifts from Henry. The gorgeous oak desk that had been a present for his birthday the year prior.

“Your dad has David,” Pez said softly. “He’s yours too, but any of us can take him for awhile if you need us too.”

Alex couldn’t help the agonized little sound that escaped his lips. The idea of keeping David felt like a knife wound. But he couldn’t leave the little beagle behind.

“I’ll—I’ll take him,” Alex choked out.

The move to Austin was a blur. He recalled his mother talking at him about apartments, sending him options, but he didn’t remember picking one. He must’ve, though, because he doubted anyone else but himself would’ve picked the tiny little studio he ended up in. It felt safer. Contained. Simple. No hidden corners to fill up with old memories. Just enough room for a single size bed, a little desk, and a small TV, along with the kitchenette that had a single burner stove and mini-fridge, plus the bathroom that barely provided enough room to turn around in.

He’d donated all of Henry’s money at that point, except for about $100,000 he kept while waiting for the sale of the brownstone to go through. That would get donated eventually as well, though. He’d been very meticulous in the charities he chose; picking them were some of the only clear memories he had since Henry’s—. All of them were in the U.K. or the commonwealth, including countries that had more recently left the commonwealth, all of them supported causes close to Henry’s heart, his true heart, and every single donation had Henry’s name on it, a proud display of what mattered to him. Alex had to admit, a little part of him had been vindictive in how he’d gone about it, wanting to throw the money in the face of the Queen. She may not have killed Henry directly, but Alex still blamed her. Blamed her for forcing him to waste so much of his life behind a mask she created. Blamed her for dragging him away from home over and over and over again for the stupidest events. Blamed her for how exhausted and demoralized Henry always was after he got home from any event where he had to be in contact with her. If she hadn’t dragged him out on that stupid apology tour for something he didn’t even do, Henry would’ve never been on that plane.

It had felt good to spread a million dollars out to queer charities, two million to various repatriation committees trying to get their artifacts back from the British Museum, a million to literacy programs, and the rest to individual fundraisers on sites like GoFundMe. A lot of the donations were still in the works, given their size, but they were happening. They were on the news, along with the donations being made by the rest of Henry’s fortune. If the Queen had ever harbored the notion that Henry dying would cut off his influence that she so detested, she’d been wrong.

The brownstone had been sold as well, for a steal but still more than enough to help Alex get by. He’d sold it to Henry’s charity in New York, now back under Pez’s control, under the condition it be turned into a practice house for the older kids at the shelter. It would be a place where they could go spend a few supervised days and nights learning life skills in a real home environment, things they might have missed out on like laundry and cooking and cleaning and paying bills. Alex thought Henry would’ve liked that. He liked it too, even if it made his heart shrivel up in his chest to think about other people in their home. At least this way it would be helping people, would be continuing Henry’s legacy.

Alex forced himself through the motions, trying not to hate Catherine as he did it. He knew it wasn’t fair, but if he could force himself to keep on living when the love of his life had been snatched away, why couldn’t she have done the same? Why couldn’t she have been there to protect her children from at least some of Queen Mary’s ire? Alex knew he wasn’t doing great, but at least he was trying, which was more than she’d done after losing Arthur.

He called Bea—now living in Colorado with June for awhile—at least once a week to check up on her, Pez too, and even Catherine. Catherine never talked much, but Alex still tried to check in because he felt like it was his responsibility to do so. But still that blame hung in the back of his mind. That festering knowledge that maybe things could have been different for Henry if she’d been there even just a little more.

So that became his life. Going to class once the fall semester started, walking David twice a day plus potty breaks, and taking two hours every Tuesday to make his self-prescribed calls to Bea, Pez, and Catherine. That was it, aside from less scheduled calls with the rest of his family. He didn’t go out. He didn’t make friends. He didn’t post on social media. He hardly even read the news. At first, that had been because all the news talked about was Henry’s—, or about Alex in relation to Henry’s—. But eventually they got tired of it, especially when Alex so successfully pulled himself out of the public eye, so they moved on. After that, the news just didn’t really interest Alex anymore. Who cared if some senator was found to be taking bribes of literal gold bars? Who cared if Russia had made yet another threatening move? Who cared?

The only news he did occasionally look at was stuff involving the Queen, and Philip. He just couldn’t wrap his head around how little either of them seemed to care. If they ever got a question about Henry—which happened so infrequently Alex knew their press riders must include a clause about not bringing Henry up at all—they just answered with a generic statement about how much he was missed and quickly moved on. Alex hated them. Both of them. But he kept it to himself. Bea and Catherine never brought up Mary and Philip, so Alex didn’t either.

People visited a lot, especially Nora, and Pez, but Alex kind of hated it when they did. Hated the way everyone looked around his little studio like it was the saddest thing they’d ever seen. Hated the way they poked and prodded at him about starting to live life again, at least a little more. Didn’t he want speak at the upcoming democratic rally in Austin? Didn’t he want to go out for drinks? Didn’t he want to come to the lakehouse for the weekend? Didn’t he want to come visit June and Bea in Colorado for a few days of skiing?

No.

He didn’t.

Chapter 6: Cracks

Chapter Text

SEPTEMBER 2023

HENRY

The electronic lock on his door clicked but Henry didn’t get up right away. He knew the guards were watching him from the camera in the corner of the room, and he wanted them to think he was tired. Worn down. Finally, he pulled himself up, staying at the edge of the bed with his hands braced on the mattress and feet on the floor for another long moment. When he got up and shuffled towards the doorway, he did his best to keep up the act. Slow, short steps, hunched shoulders. Honestly, it wasn’t that much of an act at this point. The little bed they’d given him was miserably uncomfortable, and his body always ached when he woke up.

Downstairs was set up like it always was when he woke up in the morning: a plate with two pieces of wheat toast, beans, two poached eggs, and a glass of orange juice. Next to the food was a manila folder. Inside it would be a handful of cutout newspaper articles, though there were less and less these days. There hadn’t been one about Alex in over three weeks, which was alternately terrifying and comforting, depending on which angle Henry thought about it from.

There was no sign of the guards anywhere. Henry only saw one at a time for a few minutes before each meal they brought in for him, except for breakfast which they set up before he was allowed out in the morning. The meals were the only food he ever got; no food was left in the house. Henry suspected it was a way to prevent him trying to stock up supplies for an escape.

When the guards did come in, they never said a word to him. Just dropped off the food and left. Curtis was the only one whose name Henry knew, so he’d named the other two Martin and Isaac. They were all about the same age, all seemingly ex-military, and it had taken Henry nearly a month to be able to tell the difference between Martin and Isaac with how little he saw both of them and how much they looked alike. He often wondered if they were brothers.

Sitting down at the table, he scooped the beans onto the toast with one hand and flipped open the folder with the other. Once he was sure none of the articles were about Alex, or Bea, he closed the folder again and pushed it off to the side. Any other news didn’t really matter to him.

Very aware of the cameras following him, Henry took his empty plate to the sink, washed it, and put it in the drying rack before heading outside. The last months had made it clear there wasn’t a single blind spot inside or outside the house, at least not permanent ones. Many of the cameras could rotate, meaning they might have blindspots at times, but not always. There was no pattern to the movements, so Henry figured they must be at least partially manually controlled, or maybe set to track motion. Figuring all that out had been what occupied the majority of his time for the last three weeks as he started to finally form a plan.

He’d learned other things too, beyond just the layout and functionality of the cameras, like the fact the house had not one well but two. One was closer to the house, which he figured made it the main one, and the other was in the northeast corner of the yard and capped off. He had no idea if the wells would ever be useful to him, but it was still something to keep filed away. The electricity was harder to figure out, but he guessed the most likely scenario was that the compound ran off of generators, probably housed wherever it was the guards lived.

That was tricky to figure out as well, where they lived. From what little Henry could see from the small attic window, it didn’t look like there was actually anything behind the wall with the door they went through. It could’ve been hidden by the wall itself, but if that was the case whatever was on the other side had to be small, unless it went underground. The one time he’d managed to watch them open the door, all that had been revealed was a small, concrete vestibule with another door on the other side. He figured they didn’t drive and stay somewhere else, at least not when they were on shift, because any time one left they’d be gone for at least three days. They never left for shorter periods of time, like they were just going somewhere to rest for the night or something. So there had to be somewhere close for them to stay, he just couldn’t quite figure out where.

There were other things he’d learned too, primarily just how rickety the whole place was. Sometimes he swore he could feel the whole house sway in the wind, and there were several dozen places where he could see between the floorboards of the first floor down into the rooms on the ground floor. Even the concrete wall surrounding the house was chipping and cracked, which had startled Henry when he’d realized it. This place hadn’t been modified to keep him there like he’d originally thought. It had already been like this, though he couldn’t fathom why.

It was as isolated as ever, too. He’d never seen nor heard a vehicle other than the one the guards used. Never even heard a plane or a helicopter fly over low.

All these little bits of information, no matter how disparate, were still enough for a plan to have started to form, though. There was a place on the east wall, a few feet from the main gate, where the cracks in the concrete had formed in a way that he was sure would allow him to climb to the top of the wall. He’d still have to get over the barbed wire and glass, but if he could get up he could deal with the rest. Based on the general length of the guards’ trips whenever they left, he figured there had to be some sort of place to get supplies within a day and a half of driving, at most. That would take a hell of a lot more walking, but it felt doable. The biggest issue would be water.

There was nothing designed for carrying water in the house other than the single cup he used for meals, but that was obviously useless in terms of carrying water during an escape. He wasn’t fully in the desert, thankfully, but that didn’t mean water would be easy to find once he was out, so he’d need some way to bring it with. That’s what had stumped him the most so far, until last week during his fifth exploration of the attic. Tucked away in an awkward corner created by the myriad of colliding roof angles and obscured by poor lighting, he’d found a bunch of old plumbing supplies. At least he thought they were plumbing supplies. It was a bunch of steel pipes, anyway, and a lot of random connectors. Everything was dusty and covered in cobwebs and flaked off pieces of the rotting roofing.

The plumbing supplies were not quite in a blind spot for the attic cameras, but they weren’t easily visible either. Still, once he’d found them, he’d left them exactly as they were. He couldn’t risk being seen digging through them. His hope was that he could take several of the shorter lengths of pipe, put caps on each end, and fill them up with water. Then he was planning on using a strip from one of his blankets to create a carrying handle. There was no way to know for sure if they’d hold water, or if any of the caps he’d seen in the pile would actually fit the pipes, until he started his escape tonight. If that part of the plan didn’t work, he’d just leave them and go anyway. He wasn’t staying here another day.

The clock on his bedroom wall ticked toward midnight, then one, then two. At two he got up, staring hard at the camera in the corner of his room. Knowing he had no choice but to just go for it, he looked away and shoved his fingers between a gap in the floorboards. Gritting his teeth, he pulled until it lifted away, the nails squealing in protest but coming out of the half rotted wood easily enough. He pulled up two more, then sat on the edge of the hole and slammed his feet through the joists onto the ceiling boards below. They gave way with a clatter, crashing down onto the kitchen floor. Grabbing both blankets, Henry slid through the hole and dropped to the floor after swinging himself slightly to avoid the fallen boards and the nails sticking out of them.

Downstairs he didn’t give himself time to see if the guards were coming. He was hoping that, given how long they’d been holding him for, the fact that it was two in the morning, and the fact that they’d made it clear they didn’t think he could get out would all add up to them not actually watching the cameras all that closely. Dashing back upstairs he made his way into the attic, fumbling in the dark until he found the three pipes he’d singled out as the best length, plus six caps, rushing back downstairs with them. He capped one end of each pipe, desperately relieved that everything fit, and filled each one in the sink. He was even more relieved that they all seemed to be holding, but tried not to let himself get too hopeful. There was so much more to accomplish. With each one filled, he capped the other ends and laid them on the counter, using one blanket to create his handle. It was nearly impossible with how hard his hands were shaking, but he finally got it tied and slung the bundle over his head and across his chest. Throwing the other blanket over his shoulder, he made for the front door.

On the front porch, he stopped for just a second, holding his breath. He didn’t hear anything. Avoiding the squeaky parts of the porch, he made it to the ground, still greeted by only silence. A little voice in the back of his head said this was too easy and that only made his hands shake harder, his pulse thudding louder and louder in his ears. Ignoring it all, he jammed his fingers into the cracks in the wall and started to haul himself up. It wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped, and he fell twice, but finally he was able to sling one arm up onto the top of the wall, gritting his teeth against the bite of broken glass into his flesh.

The flash of pain almost made him fall again, but he managed to pull the second blanket off his shoulder and toss it over the barbed wire and some of the glass. He still got cut a few more times as he finally clambered on top of the wall, but the blanket kept him from getting hopelessly tangled as he crawled over the wire. On the other side, he lowered the pipes down as much as he could before dropping them, then making the jump himself. It jarred his ankles somewhat, but he managed to roll away most of the impact.

Grabbing the pipes, he took one last look back at the compound. It was as silent and dark as before. Knowing the road wasn’t safe, he headed off into the bushes. From here the plan was hazier. He didn’t actually know where he was going other than south, the way the guards always went. He figured he’d try to stay within sight of the road, but far enough back he could hide if he heard a vehicle. For at least tonight, he’d only travel while it was dark. Aside from that, all he had was hope that he’d find help eventually.

When the sun started to rise, Henry found a small gully to shelter in, exhaustion nipping at his senses. There was no water in the gully, but it was easy to get in and out of and blocked him from the view of anyone who might be out walking around. He even tucked himself under the branches of an overhanging bush to add another layer of protection.

For the first time that day, he let himself try to think. To process anything. His heart was still racing, but not as bad as it had been. Without as much adrenaline pumping through his system, fear started to creep into its place. He’d gotten out, but now what? Could he really hope to make it to help an unknown distance and direction away with only a few liters of water—at best—and no food or other supplies? And then what? It wasn’t like he’d be walking into a big city with a police department that could take him into protective custody. Even then, could he really trust the police? The only people he actually trusted were half a world away and thought he was dead. Had thought he was dead for months now.

“Stop it,” Henry muttered to himself. He barely let the words get louder than a whisper, terrified of someone hearing him. There was no way the guards didn’t know he was gone by now. They had to be out here somewhere, already searching. At least it would only be the three of them, for now anyway, and they only had the one car as far as he knew. He could still do this. He just had to keep going, and not let himself get distracted by thoughts of what might happen. What he wanted to happen.

When the sun was fully up, Henry leaned into the sunlight to examine the cuts he’d suffered from the top of the wall. None seemed deep, thankfully, and none felt like they still had glass in them, but a few of them on his right arm had bled somewhat significantly. Significantly enough to drip blood down his arm and, presumably, off of it. He hoped it hadn’t left a trail. The blood was all dry now, so that meant it had to have stopped actively dripping awhile ago, right?

“Right,” he told himself. No point in thinking about the alternative.

Settling back against the dirt behind him, he pulled out one of the pipes and carefully undid the cap on one end, relieved to see it was still totally full. When the water hit his lips it tasted dusty and metallic, but he didn’t care. Unsure exactly how much blood he’d lost, he took a few more sips than he would’ve otherwise before putting the cap back on. With that, there was nothing else to do but try and rest while he waited for it to get dark again.

Chapter 7: Threat

Chapter Text

SEPTEMBER 2023

HENRY

Henry made it three days before he ran out of water. He’d heard the guards’ vehicle a few times, and glimpsed it once through the trees, but that was the only sign of other people he’d come across aside from random bits of sun bleached garbage.

Part of Henry wanted to leave the heavy pipes behind now that they were empty, but the part of him that was still hanging onto sense despite exhaustion, hunger, and dehydration knew that was a bad idea. If he did come across water, he’d need a way to carry it. There had to be water out here somewhere, given how much plant life there was. It was all brittle and brownish, though, and the two creek beds he’d found were bone dry. Apparently the drought was worse than he’d thought. Maybe he should’ve waited for it to rain before making his escape. It was too late now, though. He just had to keep going. Keep loosely following the road, hoping he’d get somewhere before the dehydration overcame him.

He was still traveling primarily at night, now both to avoid the guards and to avoid the heat so he wouldn’t sweat so much. By the dawn of the fifth day Henry was starting to realize it didn’t matter. He could barely keep himself upright, his whole body aching and head spinning with the need for water. A root caught his shoe and sent him sprawling, chin slamming into the hard dirt when his arms didn’t react fast enough to catch him.

Even with all the effort he could muster, Henry only managed to roll himself onto his side. The world kept on spinning around him and the distant, vague thought started to form in his mind that he was going to die out here. He’d given it everything he had and it hadn’t been enough. Even if the guards found his body, they’d probably just dump him in some hole in the ground and never look back. No one would ever know the truth of what happened to him. No one would visit his grave. No one would even know the moment he actually died.

Something cracked off in the distance, but Henry didn’t move. He couldn’t. When something slid across his field of vision a minute later, his eyes were too unfocused to make it out. Not until what it was got closer, and knelt down in front of him.

Curtis.

It was Curtis.

He was in tan cargo pants and a dark brown shirt, a big backpack on his back and thick sunglasses wrapping around his face under a floppy hat.

“You got farther than I thought you would,” he said conversationally. “And I’ll give it to you, the pipe thing was pretty smart.”

Henry just stared at him, wondering if this was a hallucination.

Curtis pulled something off his belt and held it up to his mouth. “Time to bring him back in, have an IV ready. Meet me at marker twenty-eight.”

Isaac’s voice crackled back over the device. “Dang, he made it twenty-eight miles?”

“He did,” Curtis replied. “Stubborn little asshole. Pretty good for someone with no real training, hardly any water, and no other supplies.”

It was dawning on Henry that this wasn’t a hallucination, and fear started to chase away the fog of dehydration. He managed to get somewhat upright, attempting to scramble away from Curtis.

Curtis rolled his eyes and stood up to follow, his pace unhurried. “Look, Your Highness, you did make it a good distance. Lot farther than I expected, like I said. But did you really think we didn’t know what you were doing?”

Henry made it to his feet, stumbling away as Curtis continued to follow. With a heaved sigh, Curtis took several quick steps and grabbed Henry’s arm, yanking him around and pointing roughly to the southeast.

“Look,” Curtis said. “It is another hundred-and-sixty miles to the nearest ‘town,’ and that ‘town’ is a cattle station with thirty people living in it.”

Henry stared, his head still swimming. His thoughts were coming too slowly to be helpful, to attach meaning to what Curtis was saying. All he knew was that he wanted to get away from the man, but all he could manage was a weak tug against Curtis’s grip. Curtis sighed and turned away, yanking Henry along with him despite Henry’s continued feeble attempts to get away. When Henry lost his footing and fell Curtis just hauled him back up, throwing one of Henry’s arms over his own shoulders and continuing on. In no time at all they were at the road, the black SUV idling in wait. Henry’s weak attempts to stay out of the car weren’t any more effective, and Curtis slammed the door behind him.

Isaac was in the front seat, fingers drumming on the wheel while Curtis went around and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Well, that was exciting,” Isaac said.

Curtis snorted. “Stupid is what it was. But we had to let him do it. Queen’s orders. He needed to actually understand that he’s stuck out here.”

The words rang in Henry’s head as blackness finally closed in over his senses. He’d never gotten away at all.

When he woke up he was in bed back in the house, an IV line trailing from his arm and a thick comforter thrown over his body. With clumsy fingers, he ripped out the IV, sending blood splattering out with it. He didn’t care. There was no telling what the hell was in that IV. The spinning in his head almost sent him to the floor when he tried to stand and he barely caught himself on the edge of the bed.

“Slow down,” a gentle voice in his head told him. It sounded a lot like Alex.

“Slow down,” Henry echoed to himself.

He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to take stock of everything. Someone had bandaged up the cuts on his right arm, and fixed the hole in the floor. The new boards stood out stark white against the faded brown of the others, and sat about a quarter inch higher than the level of the rest of the floor. Other than that, and the thick comforter, nothing about the room had changed. Based on the light, it was around midday, but he had no idea how much time had actually passed. Curtis had found him in the afternoon, so maybe one night and part of a day? Or was it more? Henry shivered, deeply uncomfortable about not knowing the answer to that particular question.

Now that his balance seemed to have settled, Henry tentatively got to his feet. When the room stayed stable, he crossed it and tried the door, somewhat surprised that it opened. There were no sounds in the house like the guards might be out there, so he made his way downstairs via the smaller, secondary set of stairs that would bring him right to the dining area. At the bottom of the stairs, he froze. Sitting in the center of the dinning table, the screen facing away, was a laptop. Just like when he’d first been brought into the house.

He didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t have the energy to try and appeal to her to let him go, knowing there was no way she ever would.

“I heard the floorboards creaking, Henry,” his grandmother’s voice said from the laptop, making him jump. “Sit down immediately. Do not make me ask again.”

Trying not to shake, Henry did as she asked, coming around and sitting in the seat in front of the laptop. She looked exactly as she had before, not a hair out of place, lips slightly downturned in permanent disapproval.

“Tell me what you have learned,” she said.

Henry didn’t answer for a long time, and she didn’t ask again, just stared at him. He wondered what she’d do if he never answered. What more was there, at this point?

That was just it, though, he realized. What more was there for her to do?

“To try harder next time,” Henry finally replied.

She made a disapproving clucking noise. “You still haven’t realized your place, even after all of that?”

Henry crossed his arms and leaned back. “What are you even trying to f*cking do here, Mary?” She twitched angrily at the use of her name, but Henry bowled on. “I’m not going to have kids for you, no matter what you do. And what story would you even tell the world if things did go that way? You killed me, remember? Where the hell are these heirs of mine supposed to come from?”

Her eyes had narrowed to slits during Henry’s rant, and her voice came out in a hiss when she responded. “That is quite simple, in fact. The groundwork has already been laid to portray your relationship with the Mexican as abusive, and to state that you faked your own death to escape the relationship due to his political ties, moving to Australia under an assumed name to live a quiet life away from the American government’s reach. You will get married and have your children, and once those children are born they will be taken into my custody to serve as backup heirs should your brother fail to have children of his own within the next five years.”

Henry felt himself go pale, his empty stomach churning.

She smiled at his discomfort that he was clearly failing to hide and pressed on. “Every aspect of what I have done here has been done, surreptitiously, using your royal accounts. It is all still hidden, of course, but when needed the right trail will be there to point straight back to you for every step of the way. The two planes, the pilots that were paid off, the guards, the house. All of it, done by you.”

Henry had never doubted that his grandmother was a smart woman. Cruel, capricious, and unyielding, but also incredibly, dangerously smart. Even though her age was starting to effect her memory at times, if she put her mind to something she’d never failed as far as Henry knew. But a plan like this, a plan that covered every angle he could think of and involved so many moving pieces…how long had she been making this plan? Had she had help?

“You can’t do that to Alex,” Henry finally said, no idea what else to say right now. “Please, please don’t do that to him.” The thought made Henry sick. “Don’t call him abusive.” That would ruin his life, ruin all the amazing things he’d be able to accomplish.

Mary’s face stilled, one eyebrow raising just slightly. Henry had the distinct impression that she’d just scented blood in the water. “So that is what it will take to get through to you, then? Threatening him?”

A small whimper escaped Henry’s lips. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut, but instead he’d opened it up and put Alex in danger. Clearly Mary hadn’t thought it worth it to bring up threats against Alex before, probably because she didn’t see their relationship as real in any way so she hadn’t thought Henry would react the way he had. But Henry had reacted, and in doing so gave it away that threats against Alex were exactly what it would take to break him.

Mary drummed her fingers on the desktop, nails clacking against it, staring at Henry intently. “There is not much I can do to someone in his position, other than ruin his reputation. Should you wish to prevent that, I will need assurances from you. So long as you follow the rules of your new household to the letter, and follow any requests I make of you, when the time comes another story will be given, one that does not implicate him in any way. But should you try to escape again, try to go against me, I will drag him so deep into the mud he will never surface.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Henry’s eyes, his body starting to shake. She had him completely cornered. There was nowhere to escape to, no trace that she’d been the one to do this, and now an axe hanging over Alex’s head. She smiled like she knew it.

“So what now?” Henry said. “Are you going to lock some woman up in here with me?”

“No,” Mary said simply. “Not as of yet. Your brother is still plenty young, with more than enough time to produce proper heirs, and you are even younger with even more time. You are not locked up under these conditions because of your brother’s lack of procreation, Henry. You are locked up in here because of your own disgusting behavior. Your brother’s lack of procreation is just the reason I wasn’t able to cleanly dispose of you due to that behavior. I truly, truly, do not want your heir to be the person who will one day inherit this kingdom. You are only a last resort backup plan kept in place for insurance until you are no longer needed. Now, I have much more important things to attend to. Do not break the rules again.”

With that the screen went black, leaving Henry sitting alone, the only sound his choking sobs as he curled forward over his crossed arms.

Chapter 8: Graduation

Chapter Text

MAY 2024

ALEX

On the morning of his graduation, it took everything Alex had to get himself out of bed. He didn’t give a damn about walking, or being handed a blank piece of rolled up paper as a stand-in for his real degree that would come in the mail later. It all felt so stupid and pointless. If he was being honest, he didn’t even remember most of his classes over the last year. He’d passed them, somehow. With great grades even. But when he tried to think about any of it, all he got back was a haze.

But his parents had been so cautiously excited about it, especially since he’d done the last year at their alma matter. He hadn’t had the heart to say he didn’t want to go. So he was going. He’d ordered the cap and gown. The class ring. Made reservations for dinner with everyone after. He just had to get himself out of the f*cking bed.

In the end, it was David that did it for him, shoving his wet nose into Alex’s face and whining for his morning walk.

“Alright, alright,” Alex yawned. “Let me get pants on.”

Ten minutes later Alex had shuffled out into the bright, humid morning in crocs, sweats, and a t-shirt that, honestly, had been worn a few too many days in a row. David pranced happily ahead, leading the way down the block to the park full of walking paths they always went to. Halfway into the walk David decided to give up and just sprawl out in the grass, refusing to budge.

“Not fair,” Alex said, lightly poking him with his shoe. “If I had to get out of bed this morning, you have to get up now.”

David just rolled onto his back and started wiggling through the grass. Alex sighed, watching him do it for awhile before bending down and scooping him up. He didn’t have the energy to play this game today. David whined, but didn’t try to wiggle away as they walked out of the park. Once they were back on the main sidewalk, Alex set him down and David happily pranced towards home.

When they stepped through the door, Alex forced himself not to look at the calendar pinned to the wall just inside it. It wasn’t less than three days until the anniversary of—. It wasn’t. It was graduation day, and that was it. Nothing. Else.

His phone buzzed with a text and he found it was from his mom.“Ready to be a lawyer, Sugar?”

He texted back a simple thumbs up.

“Sure you don’t need a ride?” She replied. “I know you’ve declined Service protection lately, but I’d feel better if you had it today. I can send Cash over.”

Alex sighed. He had indeed declined direct protection ever since he’d moved. It just made his skin crawl, having someone always hovering around like that. Even when it was Cash, who he liked, it was too much. But he could understand where his mother was coming from, at least today. There’d be a lot more attention on him, a lot more people around.

“Alright. Just for today,” Alex responded. “I need to be there by nine. Have him pick me up at 8:30.”

“Thanks, Sugar.”

Alex tossed his phone onto the measly little counter and went to get ready. It didn’t take long and, after a quick goodbye to David, he headed downstairs to meet Cash, who was waiting at the curb.

“There’s coffee back there for you,” Cash said. “Courtesy of June.”

“Thanks.” Alex climbed in, tossing his cap and gown in first, not caring if it got wrinkled.

Technically, the arena where the graduation was being held was only about three miles from Alex’s apartment. But with Austin’s terrible roads, it still took nearly the whole half hour to get there. Alex thanked Cash again, grateful that Cash hadn’t tried to talk to him the whole trip. Today was going to take everything he had to get through, and the less emotional energy he had to spend early on the better. He climbed out, slipped on the gown, and headed inside to his seat.

The slow, steady drone of names and claps and names and claps made it nearly impossible for Alex’s mind not to wander. He kept almost thinking about—, only to snap himself back, forcing his attention to the present. It didn’t help that he couldn’t dig out his phone to serve as a distraction instead. At this point, he didn’t think he’d been in public without some method of distracting himself for the entire year. It was brutal.

His name didn’t take long to come up and he took the rolled up piece of paper with the big smile everyone expected, posing for half a second for the typical picture that would surely worm its way into several dozen articles within the hour, then went back to his seat. Names and claps, names and claps. When it was time to stand and throw their caps, Alex almost missed it because of how hard and how long he’d been focusing on not letting his mind wander. But he stood up and tossed his cap like all the rest. He was silent, though, unlike those around him.

It took awhile for everyone to make their way outside, but not long for his parents and June to find him. They were all beaming and his dad scooped him into a tight hug.

“Proud of you, Mijo!”

Leo shook his hand. “Good job, Alex.”

June and his mother both hugged and congratulated him as well, but June didn’t pull away, instead tucking herself up next to him as they walked to two waiting cars. There was press around and Alex was stupidly grateful the Service was keeping them back. If someone shoved a camera in his face right now and asked him a question, any question, he was pretty sure he’d end up slamming the camera to the ground.

“Nope, sister privilege!” June loudly declared, startling Alex out of his own head. “All parents are taking the first car, siblings are taking the second.”

With that she hauled him back to the second car, which Cash was standing next to, and prodded him into the back seat.

“You are a menace,” Alex declared. “Would you at least let me take this stupid gown off first?”

He was already halfway in, though, and decided to just give up and go all the way. Once seated he did manage to get out of the gown, but it involved a lot of awkward wiggling that left him looking rather ruffled. When he emerged, it was just he and June in the car. Cash was still standing outside.

“June…” Alex said warily, pretty sure he was about to get A Talk.

She sighed, looking at him with the sadness in her eyes that everyone still seemed to have around him these days.

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m just worried—”

Alex cut off her off. “Not today, please? Just not today. I can’t get through dinner if we talk about— about—. I just can’t, June.”

She stared at him before finally nodding. “Okay. Not today.”

Alex melted into his seat, letting his head fall back against the headrest and his eyes slide closed.

Cash got in and June told him to take a wrong turn or two on the way, to make the trip a little longer. Alex was stupidly grateful for it, for the chance to decompress in the quiet of the armored car.

Their early dinner was at a quiet little BBQ place they’d all always loved, tucked away in a corner booth. His parents asked for details about the job he’d be starting in a week—at a firm that argued cases involving constitutional law—and Alex tried to seem like he cared about the answers. It was the sort of firm he would’ve dreamed of working at a year ago, but now it was just a job. Another step in pushing through life like any of it mattered.

When the food was gone, he and June said their goodbyes to their parents, then climbed back into their car to head downtown for drinks with Pez, Bea, and Nora. Through it all, a clock kept counting down in the back of Alex’s head, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Two-and-a-half days now.

The bar was a laid back but decently popular one. More indie music and pool than hip hop and dancing. Pez, Nora, and Bea were already there, waiting at a couple of pulled-together little tables off to one side. Alex squeezed in next to Bea, who was sipping on a can of co*ke.

“There’s our big bad lawyer,” she said, snaking an arm through his and leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Congrats.”

For her, he managed a smile. “Thanks.”

Pez pushed a colorful drink in his direction, raising his own glass as he did. “To Alex. May he spend the rest of his life making idiots shrivel up in defeat.”

“To Alex!” Everyone else echoed.

Alex lifted his own glass with a nod, throwing back a large sip of whatever it was Pez had gotten for him. It tasted lemony.

“Now, about your graduation present,” Pez said the second Alex put down his glass.

Alex groaned warily. “No. Whatever it is, no.”

Pez wagged a finger at him. “You haven’t even heard my proposal yet.”

Alex sighed, waving his hand in a circle for Pez to continue.

“Given your current frugal lifestyle, I assume you still have the majority of the money from the brownstone squirreled away?” Pez said.

“Proceed cautiously,” Alex answered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. So, all I’m asking here is for you to give me access to, say, half, for one year. Just let me get it better organized for you, doing something for you. Donate everything beyond your living expenses to charity if you want, but don’t let it all go to waste,” Pez said.

Alex was deeply aware of June fidgeting next to him, but Nora had a look on her face that made it pretty clear she was in on this plan. Bea seemed to be doing her best to stay out of it, focusing intently on a game of pool going on several feet away.

Alex threw back another large sip of the lemony drink while he tried to formulate a response. “I appreciate the offer, I do. But that money was just meant to get me through school and the start of my job, which it has. I don’t need it to grow.”

Nora leaned towards him. “Okay, but if you let Pez do this, let it grow even a little, think of the amount of room you’d have to do Pro Bono work. The amount of people you could help when you don’t have to worry about your job also paying your bills.”

Alex kind of wanted to glare at her. Damn best friends and their ability to know you inside and out. “That’s kind of underhanded,” he said eventually.

She shrugged. “It’s true, though.”

Alex glanced over at June, the only other person at this table who hadn’t been at least moderately rich their whole life.

She chewed her lip, running her finger around the rim of her own drink. “I get why you’re hesitant, Alex. But…I’d feel better if you let him do it. I think it would give you some breathing room, whether that’s with work or…otherwise.”

Alex let his head hang back, staring up at the ceiling, and let out a long sigh. “Alright, fine. Half, one year.”

He looked back down just in time to see Nora and Pez clink their glasses in victory, shaking his head fondly. He knew they just had his best interests at heart. And Nora had been right. Some good investment income would allow him to take more Pro Bono work. If he thought about it from that angle, it felt more like donating the money to charity instead of benefiting himself based off of the worst moment of his life.

With money out of the way, the conversation got lighter, wandering from topic to topic and laugh to laugh, though Alex never contributed much to the laughter. The clock kept ticking down and Alex kept drinking until it hit two days. Two days until the one year anniversary of—.

“Two days,” Bea said, making Alex jump. He realized they were alone at the table, and he couldn’t remember when the other three had left, or where they might have gone.

“What?” Alex said, hoping he could play it off.

“You keep glancing at the clock,” Bea said. “When it hit…that time, you shuddered.” She looked sad, as sad as he felt but never managed to show. “I’ve been counting it down too.”

Alex bit his lip and, for the first time today, let himself think about it all head on for just a fraction of a second. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to be. Henry was supposed to be here. Be the one sitting next to him. Be the one making toasts and congratulating him. Alex could almost, almost, feel the weight of Henry next to him in the empty chair that had previously been occupied by June. Feel him leaning in to whisper something in Alex’s ear. Feel the warmth of him pressed up along his side.

Bea reached out and took his hand. “He’d be so, so proud of you, Alex.”

If it had been anyone else, Alex would’ve gotten up and left at that. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Bea.

“Yeah?” Alex said, looking at her desperately.

She reached out and took his other hand, squeezing both of them and nodding as she did. “He was proud of you, Alex. He was always talking about the stuff you were working on, and what your plans were. He knew you’d be a great lawyer.”

Alex squeezed her hands back, nodding and sniffing away tears. “Thanks, Bea.”

The low light of the bar was enough to hide his emotions when everyone came back from their trip to the bar to procure more drinks, and Alex was grateful for it. They all went back to drinking and chatting like it was just a normal night, but it wasn’t long before Alex could feel himself drifting again. He got up, saying he needed the bathroom and would be back in a minute. But the bathroom had two other people in it, so he headed outside instead. The air was warm, and less humid than it had been that morning. Leaning against the bricks, he let his eyes close and the sounds of the city soak in.

“Not much of a bar guy?” Someone asked from a few feet away.

Alex opened his eyes to find a guy about his age standing there, an easy smile on his face. He was quite handsome, something that almost startled Alex to notice. He had on shiny black cowboy boots, tight, dark jeans, a forest green button up, a bolo tie, and a midnight black cowboy hat to top it all off. A few complimentary silver rings shimmered on his dark black fingers and his smile was easy, wide open and relaxed. Not really Alex’s type in any way, but still put together in a way that clearly had a lot of thought put into it, and Alex could appreciate that.

“Just been a long day,” Alex replied.

“Hear that,” the man replied. “What’s your name?”

Alex blinked, completely unused to not being recognized. “Uh…”

The man smiled like he understood somehow. “How about this instead; what can I call you?”

Alex floundered around for another moment, no idea where this was going. “Gabriel.” Literally no one called him by his middle name, so it seemed a safe option for whatever this was.

“Well, Gabriel,” he said, rolling the R just right. “I’m…Jose. For tonight.”

Alex swallowed, eyes caught on Jose’s crooked grin. Was he really considering doing this all of a sudden? Tonight of all nights? Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the desperation to force his mind to be anywhere else, but…f*ck it.

“You try and proposition random dudes outside of bars often, Jose?” Alex asked.

Jose shifted a little closer, leaning into Alex’s space, his grin softening into a smile. “Only when I see ones I like.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Alex pulled out his phone and texted June that he was heading home for the night, then followed Jose down the street. They ducked into a doorway between two shops and before the door could close behind them, Jose was crowding into Alex’s space, stopping just before their lips could touch to wait for permission. Alex didn’t let himself think, just grabbed Jose’s face and pulled him in for a rough kiss. Jose reciprocated in kind, gripping Alex’s hips tightly and steering him towards the stairs. They made it up and into an apartment, then into a bedroom, shedding clothing as they went.

Alex woke up with a start sometime in the middle of the night, Jose snoring softly next to him. Guilt washed over him and he whimpered, crushing his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes and his chest heaved as every emotion he’d been holding back for the past year threatened to break out of him all at once. He needed to get out of here before it happened.

After three deep breaths, he extracted himself from the bed, grateful when Jose didn’t wake. It took a few minutes of stumbling through the dark before he found all his clothes and his phone, and then he was spilling out onto the street, gasping for air. According to his phone, it was a little after two in the morning. No one was around, but a look up and down the street revealed a familiar black car parallel parked down at the corner. Not having the energy to get a taxi, Alex trudged towards it. The front passenger window rolled down in greeting and Alex leaned his head against the doorframe as he looked in.

“I said I only wanted protection yesterday,” Alex said to Cash, who was alone inside.

“Yeah, well, then you wandered into a random dude’s apartment, so I stuck around,” Cash returned.

Alex hummed, but didn’t move.

“Get in the car, Alex. I’ll take you home,” Cash ordered, voice gentle.

Alex did, climbing into the back so he wouldn’t have to feel Cash’s eyes on him quite so often as they drove.

“Let me out here, please,” Alex said when they were a couple blocks away.

“Alex—”

“I need the walk, Cash,” Alex said, desperation leaking into his voice. “Just let me out and head back to your hotel, or whatever.”

Cash sighed but pulled over.

Alex thanked him again, then climbed out. He stood on the sidewalk and watched Cash drive off, not moving until Cash was out of sight. Alone in the darkness, moving between the pools of the streetlights, the guilt came back full force. He shouldn’t have done that. Just slept with some random dude who smiled at him. Not when it hadn’t even been a year.

Tears he couldn’t stop started to roll down his face, dribbling down his chin. Eventually they got too thick for him to see well and he stumbled over to a bench, dropping onto it and just letting the sobs come. It didn’t matter that Jose had been nice, or beautiful, or anything. It still felt like Alex had committed a betrayal. He’d barely let himself think Henry’s name all day, and then gone off and slept with someone who’d picked him up outside a bar with only a couple dozen words.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said to the empty air around him. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed on the bench, but when he got himself together enough to look around, he realized there was a Little Free Library right next to it. Propped in the front and perfectly lit like it was meant for him to see was Click, Click, Scream, a book of collected internet poems. Henry had wanted that book. He’d preordered it the second it came across his TikTok feed back in March of the year before. Alex had completely forgotten, but now he wondered what had happened to that preorder. It would’ve showed up in their P.O. Box about a month after—. Had someone picked it up? Packed it away with the rest of he and Alex’s things that were still sitting in a storage facility in New York City?

Alex went over and pulled the book out, feeling the weight of it in his hands. It was a hardcover, about an inch thick, with a blue dust jacket patterned with emojis and the glitched out, screaming silhouette of a woman, the title spewing from her mouth.

He wanted to read it, he realized. Desperately, desperately wanted to read it. To see if Henry actually would’ve liked it. Tucking the book against his chest, he headed straight for home, walking fast. When he opened the door, David gave a little snort from his bed, but didn’t wake. A note from the dog walker was on the counter, saying David had been great on his walk and had eaten all his dinner. Kicking his shoes off into the corner, Alex went to his bed—the only place to sit other than the fold down table with a single chair or his tiny desk—turned on the lamp, and flipped open the book to the first poem.

Dating Henry had given Alex a much better appreciation for poetry than he’d had before, but these poems were different than what Henry usually went for. Less structured, more raw. But, Alex realized, that was probably exactly why Henry would’ve liked them, and Alex did think he would’ve liked them. Most of them, anyway. There was a modern, confrontational honesty in every line.

He reached the end just as the sun was starting to come up only to find that there were about ten blank pages at the end of the book. It had ended properly, finished up with a long note from the editor thanking everyone involved and listing their other works, but after that were just the blank pages. It must’ve been a quirk of the binding.

The poems still buzzing in his mind, Alex wandered toward his desk, a half-formed idea floating on the edges of his mind and the book still in hand. He sat down and picked up a pen, hovering it over the first of the blank pages.

Henry, the man I miss more than anything in the world,

Alex hesitated, his heart seizing and tears building up in his eyes once more. But he put the pen back to to the paper and kept going.

This is what we did, isn’t it? Wrote letters. Well, emails. Texts. Even after Richards, though we obviously started being more careful after that. I finished this book and saw these pages and just…I don’t know. I don’t know. I miss you, baby. I miss you so f*cking much.

The words kept coming, every feeling Alex had kept held back spilling onto the pages, some of them getting smudged with tears. By the time he reached the last page his hands were shaking so bad he struggled to write at all. After signing his name, he did something he thought he’d never do again, pulling up the Google Doc full of quotes that he’d collected specifically for ending letters to Henry.

P.S. I remember this quote from when I first sent it to you. Except, back then, I only sent the last line. I didn’t really look at the rest. I look at it now, and it haunts me with its relevance.

“I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.” -Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf, 1927

Alex closed the book, leaning down to rest his forehead on the cover and, for the first time in a year, his heart didn’t hurt quite so much. The ache was still there, still ran deep into his bones. But for the moment, at least, he could breathe through it.

Chapter 9: Birds

Chapter Text

MAY 2024

HENRY

The more time passed after his escape, the less Mary’s threats against Alex worried Henry. He didn’t want Alex to be put through that, obviously. But once he’d recovered from the dehydration and exhaustion of the whole endeavor, Henry had been able to think a lot clearer about the situation. Her specific threat had been that she’d ruin Alex’s reputation if Henry disobeyed her by breaking any rule. But if the rule he broke was not escaping, and he managed to do it successfully the next time, then he’d be able to fix any damage to Alex’s reputation by showing up alive and telling the truth. So he just had to escape successfully.

The problem was, these thoughts were very easy to have in daylight and much harder to have at night when he was alone in the dark with nothing but the ticking of the clock to keep him company. Had Mary really said she wouldn’t physically harm Alex due to his position, or had that been something his mind made up as he replayed the conversation for the thousandth time? Even if she had, what about when Ellen was no longer president, a time that was growing closer and closer? These fears had, so far, kept him from trying again. Plenty of other things had kept him from trying again, but the fears were at the top of the list.

A lot had changed since his escape, though. There was food in the house at all times now, even if it was only a few boxes of granola bars or biscuits and the occasional bottle of juice, maybe some fruit, and he still had the thick comforter which he used as a mattress pad instead of a blanket. He’d even been given a small, old CD player and a collection of CDs for it. Like the books, they were all by British artists or classical works, but at least none of them were offensive nonsense like some of the books had been. Those books still sat crumpled and forgotten in the fireplace, unable to be burned without a way to light them.

Not all the changes were good, however. The guards had made him patch the cracks he’d used to climb the wall during his escape himself, at least as high as he could reach without a ladder. They’d also removed the rest of the pipes from the attic, and they were extremely careful to make sure he didn’t keep any of the juice jugs.

As the one year anniversary approached, Henry found himself getting more and more restless. Winter was coming back around and, without better clothes, he’d never be able to survive an escape during winter, not with how cold it got at night. The only clothing he had at all were two short-sleeved shirts, one hoodie, three pairs of simple, thin pants, a pair of tennis shoes, and a few sets of socks and underwear. He left the clothes that needed washed outside his bedroom before he was locked in every night, and they’d be returned clean with his breakfast the next morning. None of it, even all layered together, would be enough to prevent him freezing to death.

The day before the anniversary, Henry went down to breakfast as usual. He was so used to ignoring the boring contents of the manila folder full of news clippings, he almost didn’t bother to open it. It was always the same stuff: royal puff pieces about how good the monarchy was for everyone involved, how wonderful its star members were. The only real comfort Henry got from looking at it these days was knowing that Philip hadn’t had children. Henry was sure Mary would rub that in his face immediately. But, at the same time, thinking that made him feel guilty.

He went back and forth on whether or not he believed Philip might be involved in this, but usually settled on thinking he wasn’t, mostly because he didn’t think Philip hated him quite as much as Mary did. Even if his attempts to get to know Henry better after the Richards scandal had been awkward and fumbling, at least Philip had tried. And Philip did deserve to have kids, if that was what he wanted. It was just that, now his having kids was also a ticking time bomb. A little dose of anxiety every morning.

Henry did finally open that day’s folder, flicking through several boring puff pieces before a larger headline piece fell out.

FIRST SON GRADUATES LAW SCHOOL WITH 3.9 GPA

There was a picture of Alex in his graduation gown at the top, but someone had sharpied over Alex’s face. The whole article wasn’t included, but Henry greedily read what was there.

First son, Alex Claremont-Diaz, graduated summa cum laude today after finishing his final year of law school in his hometown of Austin, Texas. After the tragic loss of his boyfriend, His Royal Highness, Prince Henry, almost exactly a year ago, Alex has quietly kept his head down, focusing on his studies. Once a highlight of the Claremont administration, the loss of Alex’s public presence has been keenly felt by young voters—

A stickynote at the end had several words scrawled across it: “More for him to lose.” Henry tore it off, crumpled it, and tossed it off into a corner.

He reread the article five more times, trying to claw meaning out of the limited amount of information while, at the same time, telling himself he was reading too much into it, that there wasn’t enough there to actually know much of anything at all. The only solid facts were that Alex had graduated with good marks—which made Henry stupidly proud—and that Alex had moved back to Austin. But why had he moved? That was the thing Henry kept coming back to. He was sure, sure, that the brownstone would’ve gone to Alex, like he’d intended, along with five million dollars. So why had Alex left New York? Had Mary somehow still gotten a hold of everything, despite Henry’s best efforts? Or had Alex maybe just needed a fresh start after Henry’s apparent death, and decided to go somewhere familiar?

And what was that bit about Alex pulling himself out of the public eye? Why would he have done that? He loved being in the public eye, at least when he was in control of it. Maybe that was just it, though. Maybe he hadn’t been as in control of it after Henry’s faked death. But he’d passed with great marks, so he hadn’t totally lost himself to grief, right?

Henry groaned, dropping his head into his hands, still staring at the clipping. The tiny scraps of information were making his head spin. Somehow, he’d never really let himself think too hard about what Alex might be going through. What it must feel like to try and grieve your partner with the entire world watching, with them making up stories and projecting their own grief onto him. Henry had watched his mother experience a taste of that when his father had died, but even that wouldn’t have compared to what Alex would’ve experienced. The situation was just too different. An immediate and tragic death at the beginning of what should’ve been a long, loving relationship that had been the talk of the world for three years, vs. a slower, wasting death after over two decades of marriage that didn’t entertain the tabloids nearly as much as it had in the beginning.

It hit Henry full force in that moment that he was dead. That he was dead to Alex. Not missing. Dead. Alex had grieved him for a year now. He’d moved away from their home, graduated with a new degree, probably gotten a new job and made new friends. Maybe he’d even…even found someone else to kindle a relationship with.

Henry couldn’t help the little keening sound that escaped his throat at the thought. Of course he couldn’t begrudge Alex any of that, not even a relationship with someone else. If he had been actually dead, of course he’d want Alex to be happy. And Alex did think Henry was dead, so he had every right to move on.

Except Henry wasn’t dead. So what was going to happen if he did manage to escape? What exactly would he be going back to?

Unable to stand the thoughts anymore, he shoved away from the table and was halfway out of the room before he turned back to look at the clipping again. Alex’s sharpied over face stared up the ceiling, a few brown curls and a bit of his chin peeking out around the marks. Even with Alex’s face obscured, it was still a picture of him. Henry couldn’t leave it there to be thrown out by the guards like all the other clippings.

Going back to the table, he brushed his fingers over the feathery soft newsprint. Making up his mind, he folded it up and tucked it in his back pocket. Maybe there’d be consequences for keeping it, but he wanted to try.

Outside, he sat down heavily on the porch steps, staring across the yard at the gate. The autumn sun beat down on him, making sweat collect on his skin, but still he didn’t move. Just watched the shadows inch across the yard, and the birds peck around in the dirt for snacks. There was a little flock that showed up almost every day, but Henry had no idea what they were. They were rather plain looking, and a little smaller than the average pigeon. Whatever they were, he liked their company. There was something rather comforting about watching them wander around every day.

When they took off all of a sudden, startling into the sky in one undulating mass, Henry watched them go, knowing they’d come right back. He suspected they liked it here, with all the overgrown weeds to scrounge seeds from. They did indeed return, this time landing much closer, one settling onto the step beside him, only a few inches away. The lose threads of an idea started to form in Henry’s mind and, as slowly as he could manage, he held his hand out towards the bird. It co*cked its head and hopped back, but didn’t leave. Henry kept his hand right where it was and, after a long moment, the bird hopped over and tapped his outstretched finger once with its beak, then quickly fluttered away.

Keenly aware that he was being watched, Henry got up and headed back into the house and went to the livingroom, kneeling down in front of the fireplace. He pulled the books he’d thrown in there a year ago out one by one, smoothing out their warped pages and stacking them on the floor outside the fireplace. There were a couple, though, that had completely fallen apart, loose pages skittering away. He’d counted on that. Gathering the loose pages and their parent books, he went into the kitchen, setting them on the table.

Hands on his hips, he stared up at the camera in the corner, by the back door. His voice cracked from disuse as he spoke, “Can I have some tape or something to fix these, please? And maybe a pen to write over the stuff that’s faded?”

He held his breath, unsure of what kind of response he was going to get, if any. He’d never made a request to his guards before. How could he convince them?

“Look…I just…it’s the anniversary tomorrow, and that’s…that’s given me a lot to think about. A lot to…reconsider. I want to be able to read these books, but I can’t do that if they’re in pieces.” He had zero interest in reading the books and did, in fact, still want to burn them just to prove a point. But if they could help him escape, that would be a pretty damn good point to prove as well.

When nothing happened, he sighed and went to sit at the table, staring at the books and trying to figure something else out. There was nothing else in the house that could be used as a writing implement, not even soot in the fireplace. Maybe if he tried to reach farther up the chimney somehow? But there was no way they wouldn’t notice th—

The backdoor opened and Henry snapped his head up to see Martin striding into the room. He chucked a roll of scotch tape and a pen on the table, then turned around and left without a word, the door banging behind him once he was gone.

Holy sh*t.

It had worked.

Hand shaking slightly, Henry took the tape first and started carefully reattaching each page where it belonged. Except one. He left one loose. On that loose page, he started writing, slow and careful like he was tracing what was already there, shoulders hunched over the page to block it from the view of any camera. In reality, though, he was writing a short, quick letter.

Being held in Australia in rural Victorian with cement wall. Mary faked crash. Call ACD at 512-555-7879. Tell him we kissed under the linden tree. —Prince Henry

He almost didn’t add “Prince” at all, given how sick the title made him feel at this point. But if someone did find this message, they wouldn’t understand that. Adding the title, he hoped, would make for a better chance of someone doing as the message asked and calling Alex. Hopefully it was the last time he’d ever have to use it.

With the message written he sat back and closed the book, the loose page sticking out ever so slightly to mark where it was. Putting aside the other books for later—he figured he’d fix them if he needed to to keep up the ruse—he went back out to the porch and sat where he’d been before. The birds startled away at his appearance, but not for long. Henry watched them over the top of the book while pretending to read. He had to hold the book rather awkwardly, but little by little—with the other pages shielding what he was doing—he began to tear out the thin strip with his message. Once it was free, he rolled it up and hid it in his palm, closing the book.

Leaning back, he pretended to close his eyes and enjoy the sun while worrying at a small tear in his shirt until he could pull a long thread free. The birds continued to chatter and bounce around him, getting closer and closer the longer he stayed still. Even when he leaned forward again, thread in one hand and message in the other, they didn’t seem to mind too much. Hands dangling between his legs, he bound up the message with one end of the thread, and looped the other into a slipknot.

Now the tricky part.

He had to be quick about it, because it was not something the guards were likely to miss. He’d have maybe a minute before one could get to him if they noticed right away, which should be enough time but only if things went right on the first try.

Henry wished he’d thought to save some scraps of bread from his breakfast, or grabbed a granola bar before he’d come outside. Though, if he seemed to be intentionally baiting the birds, that would probably get the notice of the guards even faster. He’d just have to go without.

One bird, a little smaller than the others, started to hop closer and closer, pecking away at the dirt and paying him no mind. Henry held his breath, begging the universe to give him this. Just a little closer. A little closer—

In one quick motion he snapped his hand out and clasped it over the bird’s back. It gave an indignant squawk and wiggled under his fingers, the rest of the birds taking off in a much nosier fashion than they usually did.

Heart racing, Henry tried to slip the loop of thread over one of it’s feet, but the loop wasn’t big enough, and he only had one hand to do it with.

“Please,” Henry begged. “Please.”

Finally, he managed to pinch the bird’s toes together between two fingers and slip the loop on with his others, pulling it tight—but not too tight—and tying another knot to keep it in place. In the same second everything was secure he heard the pounding of footsteps inside the house, and he tossed the bird into the sky.

The door behind him banged open and gunshot after gunshot rang out, forcing Henry to clap his hands over his ears. But he never took his eyes off the bird, the little message dangling from its foot as it fluttered away.

“You missed,” Henry breathed once the bird was out of sight.

Whatever feeling washed through him, it wasn’t relief. Someone still had to find the message, still had to understand it well enough to actually call Alex. And then Alex had to understand it and believe it, and then actually manage to track Henry down. But at least he’d done something.

Curtis hauled him up from the ground, fist twisted in the front of Henry’s shirt and a heavy glare marring his features. “Seriously? Seriously? She’s going to punish your precious Alex for that, you know that right?”

Henry shrugged. “She’ll probably try, yeah. But I believe in Alex, and his family, and their ability to handle whatever she tries to throw at him.” That’s what Henry was telling himself, anyway. Alex could handle it, and Henry could fix the rest once he was out of here. Even if Alex had moved on by now, Henry would still fix it. He’d fix it, and then walk away to let Alex have his new life, because that was what Alex deserved. As long as he was safe and happy, that was what mattered. Henry would be out of his life and he’d never again have to deal with getting caught up in Mary’s web.

Curtis growled, finally releasing Henry with a hard shove. “She’ll figure out something, I assure you.”

A thought occurred to Henry suddenly. “You were supposed to let me escape the first time.”

Curtis rolled his eyes. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“But not this time,” Henry said, ignoring Curtis’s comment. “This time you failed her. You let me get a message out.”

Curtis’s eyes narrowed. “On a bird. That thing’ll be back in the yard in an hour. It isn’t going to save you.”

“The amount of bullets you slung at it seems to suggest that’s not how you actually feel,” Henry returned. “As we are all well aware, my grandmother doesn’t take particularly well to failure.”

Henry did his best to keep his breathing even, watching as thoughts warred behind Curtis’s eyes. If Henry could convince him not to tell his grandmother that this had happened, it would protect Alex. Finally, Curtis just raised his gun and pointed it at Henry’s chest.

“To your room, now,” he ordered.

Henry eyed the gun, then complied, marching upstairs with Curtis on his heels. Curtis slammed the bedroom door behind him and punched something into the keypad on the electronic lock. There was a small thud indicating the deadbolt had slid closed, trapping Henry inside the muggy space. Curtis stomped back down the stairs and slammed the front door behind him as he went outside.

It all finally caught up to him and Henry stumbled over to the bed, breathing speeding up until he was hardly taking in any air at all. They had never given him his medication since he’d been here, but Henry had been swinging primarily between periods of hyperactivity and complete numbness more than he’d been feeling anxious or panicky about anything. His therapist had taught him other ways to deal with panic attacks outside of medication, though, so Henry dropped his head between his knees, trying to do circular breathing. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually the room did stop spinning and he was able to lift his head.

A quick trip to the door proved it was still locked, so he went to the window instead. It was barred—decoratively, the bars were clearly part of the original house—but it still gave a decent enough view of the backyard. Curtis was out there, gun still in hand, walking the length of the yard while staring into the sky. He vanished around the side of the house, only to reappear a few minutes later. Martin and Nathan were doing the same, all out circling the yard, guns in hand.

Henry wasn’t sure what they thought they were going to achieve. The birds wouldn’t come with them out there moving around. Henry hoped they’d been scared off entirely. Maybe Curtis shooting at them would turn out to be a good thing.

With nothing else to do, Henry cracked the window as far as it would go—only a couple inches before it stuck in the frame—and stripped off his shirt to try and escape some of the heat. Despite the complete uncertainty as to whether or not this would actually work, Henry couldn’t help but be a little proud of himself for pulling it off, all under the watchful eyes of his guards.

When he laid back on his bed, he heard the crinkle of paper in his pants pocket, reminding him that he’d kept the clipping about Alex. Lifting his hip, he pulled it out carefully, holding it up to read one more time. When he did, he noticed something he hadn’t before when the paper was laid out on the table. Alex’s face. With the light shining through the back of the paper, it was just possible to make out a hint of Alex’s features under the sharpie. Scrambling up, Henry went and pressed the paper flat against the window, letting the sunshine hit it directly.

Alex.

His features were still darkened, but it was now possible to make out some details. The curl of hair on his forehead that had escaped from under his graduation cap. A thin smile. His familiar eyes. Henry couldn’t stop the tears that came to his own eyes as he drank in the picture. In that moment, he wanted Alex more than anything else in the world, more than he’d ever wanted him this entire year.

Henry didn’t want to be caught staring at the clipping like this, though, so after what felt like far too little time, he pulled it away from the glass and looked around for a safe place to keep it. The guards were obviously not watching the cameras right now, but he had no idea if they might go watch them back later. In the end, he went and tucked it in The Collected Stories of Sherlock Holmes. One of the endpapers in the leather bound book had come slightly loose, something Henry had noticed months ago, and it provided a space just big enough to slide in the folded clipping. Ever looking at it again would be a risk, but at least Henry would know it was there, and it was in a book he didn’t mind reading over and over.

Now, once again, all he could do was wait.

Chapter 10: Reset

Chapter Text

MARCH 2025

ALEX

“What do you mean the trial date got pushed again?” Alex said, keeping his voice even despite the fact he wanted to throw something. It wasn’t the assistant’s fault. This trial had been delayed four times so far, and it was supposed to finally start tomorrow. It wasn’t anything too major, just a seemingly simple case about a school principal who had tried to unlawfully control what his students did outside of school, to the point it had pretty much become stalking. The case had been the first one Alex was given after he was hired on. A simple case to get his feet wet, except now he’d managed to try—and win—three other cases since then because this one kept getting delayed.

“The school principal claims he came down with malaria,” the office assistant, Greg, said, voice flat with disbelief that Alex shared.

“Malaria?”

“Malaria.”

“Well that’s fascinating, considering he’s not supposed to be allowed to leave the country right now,” Alex replied, leaning back in his chair. The leather was still fresh enough to squeak as he did. A year in and the office still didn’t feel anymore like his own than the day he’d started the job.

“Say the word and I’ll call the CDC out of concern for public safety,” Greg offered.

Alex hummed. “No, we need to do this right. I’ll file something with the judge to look into Mr. Pearlson’s attempts to delay the trial, so it can be looked into properly and on the record.”

“That’s no fun at all, but fine,” Greg said with a dramatic sigh. “Need me for anything else? I have to head out early to pick up my dad from the airport.”

Alex shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Greg nodded and left, pulling the door of Alex’s office closed as he did. Alex stared at it while fiddling with his pen. The office gleamed around him in the afternoon light, all chrome and frosted glass fifteen stories above the ground. At least the lawfirm had gone with deep teal furnishings—to match their logo—instead of white. The office would’ve been utterly blinding otherwise. Mostly, Alex hated the aesthetic. It just seemed like they were trying too hard to keep everything on a theme. But he did appreciate that it helped him keep a very clear delineation in his mind between when he was at work and when he was at home.

With a sigh, he sat forward and got to work on what he needed to do to get things moving despite the principal’s repeated delaying tactics. There was no telling about how long it would be before they got another trial date now. At this rate, half the kids effected would graduate by the time the case was concluded, if not all of them. Not that it mattered. The case would go forward anyway. But it bothered Alex that they wouldn’t get a resolution in time to help them. Precedent might be established, which would help future kids facing similar issues, but the kids who had actually been hurt would be lucky to get anything. There might be a settlement of some sort, but that could take even longer to get paid out and result in even more squabbling in the courts along the way.

It sucked.

The cases he’d won had all been in that same vein. He’d won them, which looked good for him, but the people he’d won them for were still struggling with the consequences. A police force had been heavily sanctioned for refusing to hire people of color, but the two main people alleging the harm had been forced to move out of state to try and find jobs even after the case was won. Their faces had become so well known the blue wall had slammed into place for them all over the state and, potentially, the country. The other two cases weren’t any different. A resolution that would help those down the line, but really didn’t help anyone who’d been harmed in the first place.

Alex tried to tell himself he didn’t hate it. That law school hadn’t been a waste of time. It was just the depression rearing up, like usual. The problem was, he’d finally started medication for said depression about three months earlier, and he still hated his job. He was running out of excuses now. No more, “the meds just need more time in my system,” or, “it’s just been a rough week.”

No, the meds were working. Even if it was still a slog to get through most days—especially this time of year as the two year anniversary of Henry’s d— drew closer—he could tell his head was clearer, that he had more energy, that he could follow the trail of his thoughts much better.

And sure, the weeks were rough sometimes. But not that often, if he was being honest with himself. If anything, they were frequently boring. This firm was prestigious enough that it only got big, shiny cases with the potential to make the news, which meant several things. For one, it meant Alex was getting paid stupidly well. For two, it meant many people couldn’t afford them, even for a consultation. And, finally, it meant that Alex had access to four different assistants and an intern or two that could do all the investigative grunt work for him. Which was boring. Alex liked the investigative grunt work. He liked digging through case law and stringing it all together. He liked liked digging up evidence. But, mostly, he liked helping people and, a lot of days, it didn’t feel like he got to do enough of that here.

He gave the motion he was sending one last scan—to make sure none of his personal thoughts had leaked out onto the page—and sent it off. Nothing to do now but wait and see what happened. He’d have to work on other cases for awhile. Not today, though. It was Friday and he had a long date with his bed and a new book he’d picked up that he thought Henry might’ve liked.

The books had become a habit now. Whenever he saw one that made him think of Henry, he’d buy it, read it, and write a letter to Henry after. Most just had the letters tucked into the back, since they didn’t have blank pages, but not all. There were ten books so far, all carefully tucked away in a box under his bed so no one could ask about them when they came over.

He drove himself home, caving and getting Arby’s halfway when traffic snarled up. Someone was in his assigned spot in the apartment parking garage, so he found a spot out on the street to parallel park instead. Hopefully whoever it was was just a random visitor, and this wouldn’t turn into a problem Alex had to deal with. He’d contacted his landlord all of three times in the almost two years he’d lived here, and each experience had been worse than the last. His shower still didn’t drain right.

“Your parallel parking skills are beautiful,” a familiar voice said once Alex stepped out and slammed his door shut.

“Pez,” Alex said with a smile. “I didn’t know you were in town. Did you steal my parking spot?”

“I did not intend to be in town, but my flight to visit my darling girlfriends in Colorado got waylaid due to weather there,” Pez replied, following Alex inside and up the four flights of stairs to his studio. “And no, I took a taxi here.”

“Oh, yeah, June told me about that when we talked last night. -40f windchills should be illegal.” Alex opened the door and David immediately scampered over, more excited than usual since Pez was there.

“Agreed. Positively rude temperatures, and the winds have got DIA shutdown, so my flight had to divert. The diversion turned out to be rather convenient, however, given it sent me to your neck of the woods instead.”

“You should’ve texted me, I would’ve bailed on work earlier and we could’ve met somewhere for dinner,” Alex said, leaning down to try and clip on David’s leash. He was wiggling excitedly in front of Pez, though, who had knelt down to love on him, so it took Alex a few tries.

“How about drinks?” Pez suggested.

“I could do drinks. The bar down the street lets dogs on the patio.”

“Perfection.”

Alex tossed his suit coat and tie up onto a hook next to the door, then led the way out. He and Pez chatted idly about June and Nora—who were happily living together in Denver now that they’d realized they were, in fact, dating and had been for awhile. Alex liked to lovingly tease them about falling into that particular stereotype of queer women. Pez was a third something in that relationship, but no one ever really seemed to feel the need to nail down what that something was. They were all happy, though, so Alex didn’t pry.

Bea, who had lived with June, and then June and Nora, until late last year was doing good as well. She’d recently met a Swedish Olympic archer that she was utterly enamored with, and Pez was as happy to gossip about that as anything else. Alex would never admit how long he’d spent stalking the guy on the internet after he’d found out, trying to make sure the man was good enough for Bea. Alex’s conclusion was that he was, but he was still going to give the guy a very thorough talking to whenever Bea decided to start introducing him to everyone. Not so much a “don’t hurt her,” talk—Bea could handle herself just fine—but a “don’t take getting into the royal family lightly” talk. Alex didn’t regret his own decisions for a moment, and even knowing everything he knew now he wouldn’t change his decision to be with Henry. But he still figured this new guy deserved to know what he was getting into so he wouldn’t cut and run on Bea when it inevitably slammed him upside the head.

“So,” Pez said, once they were settled into a table outside, a beer in Alex’s hand and a martini in Pez’s. “How is your lovely mother doing now that she is no longer president?”

Alex chuckled. “She’s trying to escape being a forced recluse. We all made her agree to take a whole year off before she jumps into anything else, but Leo still had to practically drag her to their new place outside Fredericksburg. She’s settling into it, though. The time off will do her good.”

“Good for her. And what about you, no-longer-first-son?”

“Stupidly glad to be done with that,” Alex said. He was just a person again. “Former first son” did not carry nearly the weight or attention of “current first son.” It might have, if he’d let it, if he’d kept himself in the spotlight. But he hadn’t so people had moved on, and he was fine with that. The last real article about him had been for his graduation a year earlier, though he suspected some might start to crop up again around the anniversary.

They continued to chat about nothing for awhile, until Pez’s face got a little more serious.

“So, you may remember how about, oh, almost a year ago, I made you a deal?” Pez said.

Alex let out a long sigh, feeling his eyebrows go flat even as his mouth twitched up slightly at the corners. He’d been wondering when this was going to happen. It occurred to him that he should check and see if DIA even had been closed, or if Pez had just made up an excuse to come by. Not that he needed one, at least not these days. Alex didn’t mind him coming around unannounced as much as he would’ve a year earlier.

“I do remember,” Alex said eventually.

Pez slid his phone across the table, screen up. Alex eyed him, then warily picked up the phone and almost choked. The account he was looking at had eight digits in it, not counting the cents. It was just over twice what Henry had left him, not including the brownstone.

Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to find words.

“Thoughts?” Pez asked innocently.

“You did this in a year?” Alex said, voice incredulous in a way he couldn’t help. “With only half the brownstone money to start?”

Pez looked stupidly pleased with himself. “I did indeed. Some of my best work.”

Alex didn’t believe him. Objectively, he’d always known that it was absurdly easy for the rich to stay rich and get even richer as they did, but to see such stark proof it—and in his own name—made the world feel like it was tilting underneath him.

Pez leaned in, voice gentle. “I can see that’s probably not what you were expecting.”

Alex shook his head, still staring at the phone. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but not…that.”

“I’ll be honest with you, neither was I,” Pez said. “Don’t get me wrong, I am good at what I do, but I did surprise even myself here. Your mother helped a lot, to be fair. Indirectly, of course, but she’s kept the US economy on the up, and having another democrat elected after her only buoyed it more.”

Alex finally set the phone down, clicking the screen off as he did so he couldn’t see the number anymore. He was feeling a little light headed. “Promise me you only used the brownstone money, Pez. I trust you, but I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise you I only used the brownstone money. And I don’t need you to trust me, I documented everything every step of the way. It’s all in a lovely little PDF I will email to you shortly. Every investment was in a cause you support, all the companies thoroughly vetted by Nora and June before I put any money into them.”

Alex let out one short laugh, shaking his head before taking a long swig of beer.

“Care to enlighten me on your thoughts right now?” Pez asked.

“I think—” Alex puffed out a slow breath. “I think your timing is throwing me for a loop just as much as the numbers are.”

“Because of the anniversary in a couple months?” Pez asked, tone cautious.

Alex felt his shoulders tighten up. Breezing past what Pez had said because he didn’t want to get into that side of things, he said, “Because my job honestly kind of sucks right now, and that’s more than enough money to convince me it might be okay to do something stupid.”

Pez shrugged, finally leaning back in his chair. “It’s not stupid if it makes you happy.”

They’d only stayed at the bar for a little while after that, Alex making the flimsy excuse that he was exhausted from work. Pez clearly saw through it, but didn’t say so. They’d parted ways, Pez promising to give June and Nora a hug for him, and saying he’d send Alex all the relevant info for his new fortune by the morning.

Back in his studio, Alex stood in the middle of the single room and just turned in circles for about fifteen minutes, staring at everything. The peeling paint that was at least twenty layers deep. The water stains around the leaky corner of the one window at the back. The drab gray drop ceiling that did not muffle a single sound from the person who lived above him.

His limited amount of stuff did not add anymore life to the space. It was all cheap Walmart crap he’d bought in a single trip with a rented truck. The kitchen had one plate, one bowl, one spoon, one butter knife, one fork, one steak knife, one small pan, and one small pot. Nothing else. Most of his cooking since he’d moved in had been done in the microwave or the toaster oven that was balanced precariously on top of that microwave. His bed was a single mattress on a black metal frame that didn’t have a headboard or footboard. Nothing hung on the walls. Even his desk just contained his laptop, a handful of pens, and some stickynotes. About the only color in the whole place came from David’s scattered toys.

“‘It’s not stupid if it makes you happy,’” Alex muttered to himself. “But what the f*ck makes me happy?”

Nothing. That was the only answer he could come up with. Nothing made him happy anymore. Even now, with a seemingly decent medication regiment, Alex still felt like he was miles away from that particular emotion.

Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he took a shaky breath. He couldn’t keep going like this, but he didn’t know how to get out of it, money or no money. Part of him—a deep dark part from before he’d started his new medications—whispered that the money might take him a different direction entirely. It would be so easy to just quit his job and not do anything else. Just curl up on that little bed and let the world slip by around him. Pay for meals to be delivered. Books to be delivered. David to be walked. Let the quiet smoother him until he couldn’t feel anything at all.

Alex gave his head a shake, banishing those thoughts. No. He didn’t want that, and Henry wouldn’t want it for him.

“You can figure this out,” Alex said to himself. “What made you happy before?”

He forced himself over to the desk, pulling out the pad of stickynotes and a pen. But nothing came out when he hovered the pen over the yellow square. Finally, he had to just admit to himself there was only one real answer, at least for the very first thing. He wrote Henry’s name in big block letters and then peeled it off, sticking it as high as he could reach on the wall in front of him. Under that and a little off to the side he put, “Texas.” Then another to the right of Texas that said, “helping people.” Over the next fifteen minutes he slowly added more things, breaking some of them down into more categories. “Texas” broke down into hill country and the lakehouse and summer nights in the quiet countryside. “Helping people” broke down into promoting queer rights and immigration reform and, more broadly, helping people in a way that allowed him to see quicker results. He also added family to the list, and friends.

Finishing up, he sat back and looked at everything. He didn’t see his current life in there anywhere, aside from living in Texas in general and being with family and friends when their schedules aligned. He didn’t actually have any local friends, though. He saw Liam on occasion, but he and his now husband lived on the other side of the city, so it wasn’t often. He certainly didn’t have anyone who might be more than a friend, not since that disastrous night with Jose. Alex still felt guilty about that, even if he knew he probably shouldn’t.

He’d ended up here, in this little studio with a job that he hated, because he had panicked after Henry’s d—. Because he hadn’t known what else to do so he’d ran away from everything and, basically, hid. There were worse decisions he could’ve made, though, and just because none of this felt like the right thing now didn’t mean it hadn’t been the right thing for awhile. He could give himself that much grace. But it wasn’t right anymore, so what was he going to do about it?

He looked up at his list, then pulled open his laptop and opened Google. Within an hour he’d found three lawfirms based in small towns in the hill country, all focused primarily on either discrimination cases, immigration related cases, or both. One in particular really drew his attention; a small two person firm in the tiny town of Colinas Pérdidas, which was about two hours northwest of Austin. Something about their website just clicked with him. It was a little dated, but clearly had a lot of thought put into it. A real person had really cared when they put it together, and they didn’t seem to have foisted the responsibility off on some faceless marketing firm. The website didn’t just have information about the firm either. It was full of links and guides to other resources people could use to get help with their issues. They worked on sliding payment scales too, based on what people could afford, and they were open on weekends to be more accessible.

Alex sent off a quick email requesting a Zoom meeting the next day, if they had time, then closed his laptop and leaned back. He didn’t expect them to hire him—hell, at this point, he didn’t even care if they paid him—he just wanted to see if they would agree to let him join them, maybe as a partner. He wanted to do law that mattered and made a difference for everyday people with everyday problems, and this seemed like a great place to do just that.

It was shocking how easy it was to buy a house when you had enough cash to pay for the whole thing. Three weeks after his somewhat rash decision to upend his life for the second time, Alex was the owner of a sixty-five acre ranch property thirty minutes outside Colinas Pérdidas. Admittedly, the thing had been on the market for nearly five years, so the sellers had practically thrown it at Alex when he’d made his offer.

The place was in somewhat rough shape from having sat empty so long, but that had been part of the appeal. Alex thought it might be nice to fix it up. To come home from a long day of desk work and have physical projects to work on. And if he changed his mind, well, he’d just pay someone else to do it.

His new job at Carrillo Brothers Law started in two weeks, which he’d done intentionally so he’d have time to get a lot of heavy lifting done at the house. The firm had been extremely surprised by his request to join them, not quite getting why someone like him would want to work for a tiny little law firm in the middle of nowhere like theirs. But they’d come around when he explained his reasoning of wanting to work on cases that mattered more to individuals. It turned out the firm was not two brothers now, it had just been founded by them, and was now one son of each original brother, both of whom were in their sixties. They’d both been unsure about the continuation of the firm as none of their own children were interested, and they liked the idea of getting some young blood in.

But before the job, at least for the next two weeks, the house was his first priority. He needed to get it at least moderately livable.

“Alright.” Alex clapped his gloved hands together. No one was around except David, but Alex didn’t care. “Soft stuff all goes in the dumpster. We’re starting there.”

The house had formerly belonged to, and been built by, a man who’d passed away at the age of ninety-three, and nearly everything he’d owned was still inside. His family had apparently come to clear out any personal belongings after he’d passed, but they’d left everything else inside and sold the house as is. Now, the majority of it sat covered in dust and chewed on by moths and mice. It was a big adobe house with four bedrooms, a library, a large office, a large kitchen and dining area, a large livingroom, a laundry room, and three bathrooms, all sort of haphazardly put together in a roughly square shape around a glass-walled courtyard at the center. It very much had the vibe of something that had never been built to a plan, just to the needs of the moment. There was a splattering of outbuildings as well, including a large barn, but Alex was focused on the house itself for now.

The courtyard was so thick with overgrown plant life he’d barely been able to get either of the two glass doors open, so that was going to have to be a whole project on its own. Instead, he’d decided to start by throwing out anything damaged beyond repair within the house. Honestly, a lot of the furniture was quite nice. The former owner had been an antiquer as well as a woodworker, and that showed in the eclectic style of the home. There was nothing that didn’t have some amount of carved detail on it, no corner left without a little table or vase or strange lamp. It felt like exploring a quirky little museum, and everywhere Alex looked he found a neat thing he’d missed before.

Sadly, though, some of it wasn’t salvageable. So out into the rented dumpster it went. After a few hours he’d managed to remove every couch and mattress in the place—the mice had gone to town on them (he was considering getting a cat)—which left it all feeling surprisingly open, even with the rest of the clutter. Sitting down in the now big, open space of the living room, it only took him a moment to realize he’d made a mistake in taking a break. Now he had time to think.

Was he doing the right thing?

What if this didn’t work out either?

Had he acted too quickly?

What if the new job didn’t pan out?

What if he hated living in the country?

With a groan, he flopped back onto the hardwood floors, the heels of his palms pressed to his eyes. David, who had been exploring every corner of the new space while Alex worked, plodded over and laid down half on top of Alex’s stomach. Alex sighed and pulled one hand away to pet him, letting his other arm drop to the floor.

“Do you think Henry would’ve liked this place?” Alex asked David. “I do. There’s so much history here. So much attention to detail. But not, like, in an overwhelming way. Not in the way it is in England. Just a lifetime of work and attention from one single person.”

Henry would’ve traced his fingers over the geometric patterns running up and down the bookshelves, dug through every drawer in every desk and table and dresser, would’ve wondered about the stories attached to all of it. He might have even gone into town and asked for details about the old man who had lived there before. What had he been like? Where had he been from?

But Henry wasn’t here. He’d never be here. He’d never get to see this house and all its little details. All its stories. Alex was still alone. Still didn’t have the one thing at that could make him happy, and he never would again. A new house, a new job, neither would change that. Ever.

Chapter 11: Date

Chapter Text

APRIL 2025

ALEX

Alex liked his new office a thousand times more than the old one. It was in an old mission style home on the second floor, and the large window looked out on the rolling hills that surrounded Colinas Pérdidas. There was even a little gas fireplace set into one wall. He’d furnished the space himself using things he’d found around the house. There was a simple wooden desk with a motif of chili peppers and vines carved around the edge of the tabletop, and two plush arm chairs for clients to sit in across from him. Over the fireplace he’d hung a series of portraits of notable queer figures, on the opposite wall he’d hung ones of notable Mexican figures. Currently he was in the process of unpackaging a bunch of little fidget toys to sit along the edge of the desk closest to his future clients.

“Knock knock,” Geraldo said, rapping his knuckles lightly against the doorframe as he did. “Settling in?”

Alex nodded. “I am, thanks.”

Geraldo was the older of the two cousins who owned the firm. The younger was Antonio, but he’d been in court all day. Alex had met them both in person only once so far, when he’d come in to sign paperwork to solidify the job, but he liked them. They both seem very laid back and open.

Geraldo stepped in and looked around, nodding as he examined the portraits. “Good choices. Good choices.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what brought you to Colinas Pérdidas?” Geraldo asked, settling into one of the chairs. “I know you’ve said you wanted to do some smaller law, but why here?”

Alex shrugged, leaning back in his chair. It was the only thing he’d bought new, as there hadn’t been any desk chairs in the house that appealed to him. Unlike his leather one at his old job, though, this one was fabric and much more comfortable.

“I just wanted to get out of the city, mostly. My mother grew up in the rural parts of hill country, and I’ve always loved it too.”

Geraldo nodded. “It is lovely indeed. And we’re darn glad to have you. Toni and I have been representing queer cases for quite a while, but we’re both as straight as an arrow, so sometimes we just don’t quite get all the ins and outs of the community and their needs, you know? Having someone like you, well, I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to our clients and really help them feel comfortable working with us.”

Alex smiled. “I certainly hope so.”

Geraldo lightly smacked both his hands on the armrests of the chair, then pushed himself to standing. “Well, I’m heading out. Meeting my wife and one of our daughters for dinner. Why don’t you join us? My treat. A little ‘welcome to the firm’ celebration. Both of them help out here on occasion, so it’ll be good for you to get to know them.”

Alex didn’t really want to. Not that he didn’t like Geraldo, he just never did things after work anymore. He went home. He’d gone home for two years. Except the whole point of all of this—moving and getting a new job and starting all over for a second time—was to stop doing what he’d been doing because it hadn’t been working. So he said yes, even though he still didn’t want to. David had a little fenced in yard now, with an RFID doggie door Alex had installed, so he’d be fine. Alex could do this. He could do one dinner with his new boss.

The place Geraldo took them too was just down the street—though, with how small Colinas Pérdidas was, most things were just down the street. Along the way Geraldo happily pointed out different things around the town like a statue of the woman who had founded it, the murals the town council had been commissioning over the last few years, the different shops. He clearly loved the place, and took a lot of pride in it.

The restaurant itself was half a restaurant and half a bar. They made their way to the restaurant half to sit, meeting the two women already there. Geraldo introduced his wife as Isabella and his daughter as Jenny. Alex smiled and shook hands before sitting down and looking over a menu. It was a pretty standard mix of Mexican and American staples, and Alex just went with a burger that came with a side of tacos instead of fries.

“So, Jenny, what do you do?” Alex asked, trying to remember how socializing with strangers was supposed to work. He used to be so damn good at this, but he felt like he was drowning with no land in sight at the moment.

“Well, I have a bachelors degree in biology, and I’m thinking about going back and getting my masters in forestry,” Jenny said. “Right now, I’m working with a conservation based charity.”

They chatted idly about that for awhile, the conversation pausing awkwardly several times where it clear the polite thing would’ve been for them to ask about Alex as well, except they already knew about him. Everyone knew about him. Alex had honestly almost forgotten what that felt like. How uncomfortable it was. Trying to make friends with people who thought they already knew you based on things they’d read in the newspapers, even if they meant well, was a monumentally harder task than just making friends with complete strangers.

Thankfully they were saved by the arrival of their food and the conversation shifted more towards fun stories about the town. None of them knew the former owner of Alex’s home, sadly, but promised they would ask around.

Halfway through their meal a group started to trickle in and congregate around one of the pool tables. Many of them were dressed in black work pants and navy t-shirts with the logo for the Colinas Pérdidas Volunteer Fire Department on the breast. They were loud and a little rowdy, but not in any sort of disrespectful way. Just in the way of good friends having drinks. Spanish and English floated out of the group in equal measure, and Alex kept catching himself staring at them. Two years ago he’d been the kind of person would’ve gone over to join them. They were bright and happy and close. All the things he’d loved to be a part of before.

“Our fire department is a rowdy bunch,” Jenny said, making him jump. He hadn’t realized how lost in his head he’d gotten until he looked up and realized that Geraldo and his wife were gone.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I’m being a terrible dinner guest. I didn’t even notice your parents leave.”

Jenny shook her head with a laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, they were looking for an excuse to leave us alone together. Let’s just say they’re very determined to get grandkids and will take any opportunity they find to try and get me and my two sisters to hurry things up. If there’s a single man our age within fifty miles of town, he’ll end up at a table with at least one of us.”

Alex chuckled, trying not to let his discomfort show. “Ah.”

Jenny smiled and Alex tried to mentally pull himself back a little and be objective about the situation. She was rather pretty. Gorgeous, in fact, with big dark brown eyes and black hair that fell in soft waves to nearly her navel. She had dimples and deeply tanned skin from working outside frequently, and she’d talked about her field and education with a fervent passion that Alex could easily appreciate.

In just over a month it would be two years since Henry’s d—. Maybe it was time to dip his toes into trying to date again. He didn’t have to actually commit to anything. It was one evening having dinner with a beautiful woman that he barely knew, not getting drunk and following a random dude home for some quick sex without thinking it through enough to realize how much it would hurt come morning.

“Well,” Alex said. “We may as well make sure they at least get their money’s worth then. Tell me more about yourself.”

She did, talking about how she was raised in town with her sisters, how she’d gone to Nevada for college but been so homesick she’d immediately moved back after graduation. She wanted to travel but had yet to visit more than a handful of states and had never left the country. She had a pet cat named Walnut and a betta fish named Carrot. She liked to play videogames.

Alex contributed a little here and there, mostly talking about his ranch and his plans for it since she already knew everything else.

It was all very much fine. She was fine. The conversation was fine. But Alex just couldn’t make himself care. What his mind kept catching on, though, was that he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t care. Was it maybe as simple as there not being any actual connection between him and Jenny, or was he still too caught up in the past to give her a fair chance?

For the first time, Alex let himself really think about what it might be like to date someone else. To start a relationship. To bring someone home. To share a bed with them. To share a life with them. It made his stomach turn. How could he ever do that knowing what he’d lost?

And what would that be like for the person he was with? To have to live under the shadow of what he’d had with Henry? Even if Alex could grow to love someone as much as he had loved Henry, it wouldn’t be like that in the beginning, and maybe not for a long time. They’d have to figure it out together. Alex how to open up to that new person and that new person how to be okay with Alex’s struggles. The idea of all that felt exhausting. Maybe even impossible.

He and Henry had worked because, at first, they hadn’t been trying to. They’d gone into their forced friendship with no reason to play nice or put on their press ready personas because, at the end of the day, it was basically a mutually assured destruction sort of thing. Neither could’ve thrown the other under the bus about something without tossing themselves under the wheels too. They hadn’t put their walls up because they hadn’t thought they needed to. It was supposed to be a quick and simple thing. A show for the cameras, so why bother to make it real? Except, what that had actually ended up resulting in was a level of honesty with one another that neither had ever had with anyone else.

Alex didn’t think he could ever get someone else to understand that. To understand all the little nuances of why Henry had meant so much to him. Their situation had been so unique due to their positions in life that there just wasn’t a way for someone outside of it to ever get the full picture. Which meant Alex would end up spending his life with someone who could never fully understand him and that didn’t feel fair to that hypothetical person, or to himself.

“Well, Jenny,” Alex said after they’d both scraped up the last crumbs of the desserts they’d ordered. “You do seem lovely, and I appreciate the conversation—”

Jenny cut him off with a gentle smile. “But there’s nothing here?”

Alex returned the smile. “Sorry.”

She gave a little one shouldered shrug. “No harm done. Honestly, I think dating someone who worked for my dad would probably just get awkward, especially if we did give it a go but it didn’t work out long term.”

Alex nodded, relieved to have a simple excuse. He offered to escort Jenny home, but she turned him down, saying her car was parked just down the street. The restaurant owner said the meal had been added to Geraldo’s tab, so Alex left an extra large cash tip. As he left the restaurant he couldn’t help but glance over at the firefighters again. There were about ten people in their group now, all laughing and chatting just as vibrantly as before. For a fraction of a second he hesitated, debating going over, but in the end he decided against it. He’d done his forced socialization for the night.

Back at the house he pulled his truck—a used one from the 90s he’d bought because he hated how uselessly big and flashy newer trucks were—up to the garage but didn’t pull in. The garage was just as packed with stuff as the house, the only space left sized for a much smaller vehicle. Alex hadn’t even tried to do anything in there yet. He was thinking about inviting his dad over for a weekend to help dig through all the tools and decide what was worth keeping and what wasn’t. Oscar wasn’t anymore of a handyman than Alex, but at least with two people the work would go faster, and it would be good to see him. They hadn’t spent that much time together since Henry’s d—. They’d talked plenty, but visits tended to be short.

Once inside David pattered up to greet him and Alex apologized for his dinner being late, going to the kitchen to put it together. David sat and waited patiently at Alex’s feet, aside from his tail which went a million miles per hour back and forth across the floor.

“Wait,” Alex said, setting the bowl down on its mat. He stood back up and David remained exactly where he was, though he’d leaned forward slightly. “Go eat.”

David scrambled forward and started licking up the food out of every nook and cranny of his slow feeder bowl.

Before Alex could do anything else, his phone rang and he picked it up to see June’s face in the little icon. He put her on speaker and said hello.

“Soooo, how was your first day at the new job?” She asked.

“I mean, I was mostly just setting up my office,” Alex said. “But it was good. I like the space, and the people. Geraldo, one of the owners, took me out to dinner with his wife and one of his daughters after.” Alex didn’t mention the awkward quasi date that had resulted from that. He might bring it up later, but going through it and discussing it was too much for one night.

“Well that’s good, I’m glad you like it. Do you know when you’ll start actually doing legal work?” June asked. He could tell she had him on speaker as well, the way her voice got quieter and louder as she puttered around doing something.

“They’re going to brief me on a few cases they want to hand over to me or have me assist on starting tomorrow. Beyond that, my info is officially up on the site so it just depends when clients show up.”

“Well I’m happy for you. It seems like a really good little firm. How’s the house?”

“Coming along,” Alex said, picking up the phone and heading for his bedroom. It was the first one on the left, just behind the dining room.

“And when do I get to come visit?” June said, a teasingly demanding tone in her voice.

“Well, I mean, you can come whenever. But I currently only own one mattress and zero couches, so sleeping arrangements are limited.” Alex kicked off his shoes and quickly changed into some pajama pants and a ratty t-shirt.

“I thought you said the place came furnished?” June replied.

“I said it came ‘as-is.’ And ‘as-is’ was abandoned for five years after being cared for by a man that, from what I can tell, had been past his house cleaning prime for quite awhile. Anything soft did not survive and had to be tossed in the dumpster.”

“Ahhh, fair. Fair. And you didn’t use your bulging new bank account to address the issue?” There was a whumph sound like June had flopped down onto her own couch, or maybe her bed.

“I did, but the mattresses aren’t getting here until Friday and I can’t find any couches I like yet.”

“You’re being picky,” June said.

Alex rolled his eyes and wandered back to the library at the back of the house. It was one of the largest spaces in the house and had built in shelves and a big adobe fireplace, as well as a currently empty seating area. Sadly a lot of the books hadn’t escaped the mice either, so they had been thrown out leaving the shelves looking rather empty and sad. There was a desk in the library too, pushed up against the glass wall of the courtyard. Currently that just meant it had a view of rotting, tangled ivy of some sort, but eventually the view into the courtyard would probably be quite nice.

“Well, come visit and help me find one then,” Alex said. “Steal Nora away from whatever NASA’s abducted her to do down in Florida, wrangle Pez back from whatever corner of the globe he’s wandered too, and we’ll make a weekend of it or something.”

June’s silence made Alex’s mind catch up to him and he realized how easily the offer had slipped out. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a simple offer for his sister and best friends to come over and see his new house.

“Really?” June said while Alex was still mulling over how easy that had been.

“Yeah, really,” Alex told her. “We’ll see if we can get Bea out too. Drag out some more details about this handsome archer of hers.”

“We’re doing it!” June declared. “Give me, like, an hour to dig through everyone’s calendars and I will find us a weekend within the next month if it kills me.”

She hung up before Alex could respond and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Excited to see everyone, and show them around the ranch, but guilty that he’d pulled back from the people he loved so much that a simple offer of a weekend together elicited that sort of reaction. They’d done get-togethers like that all the time before. Game nights and movie nights and weekends themed around going to as many museums or plays or sports games as possible. But grief had torn all that away, leaving a ragged hole that refused to heal behind.

Maybe it was starting to heal, though. He’d made the invitation without even thinking about it, hadn’t he? That was something. And he’d gone on a date tonight, even if it hadn’t been anything amazing. Those both felt like steps in the right direction. Little ones, but still.

Sitting down at the library desk, he pulled his latest Henry book towards him and idly flipped through the pages to reread all the lines he’d tabbed and scribbled annotations next to. When he was done, he pulled forward a sheet of paper and started writing.

Henry, the man who would’ve loved this house,

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I know I’ve said that before in these letters to you, but I just don’t. What we had was so strange, so ephemeral, that I can’t quite even wrap my mind around what I’ve lost, so how could I ever explain it to anyone else so that they might understand and be able to help?

As cliché as it is, I don’t know that there has ever been a relationship quite like ours in history. Sure, there have been plenty of forbidden romances over the centuries, but I think I can say with certainty that none of them played out on the public stage quite the way ours did. Such are the perils of living in the modern era, I guess.

Alex continued to ramble. His book letters to Henry rarely followed a single, cohesive thread. They’d have parts about his day, parts about his feelings on loss and grief and missing Henry, parts about random things on the news, and parts analyzing the books themselves. The letters were just mind-dumps more than anything. A way to try and untangle the mess in his head because these letters were the only thing that had even slightly been able to do that so far.

This letter would be the twelfth once it was done. The books were all over the place in their content. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry. New and old. There was even one picture book in there, because it was about a prince falling in love with a handsome male knight and Alex had been excited to see a queer picture book in a store for the first time. He knew Henry would’ve been too, especially since the prince’s family supported him in the book.

When the letter was done, Alex ended it with a quote as usual.

"Anyone who realizes what Love is, the dedication of the heart, so profound, so absorbing, so mysterious, so imperative, and always just in the noblest natures so strong, cannot fail to see how difficult, how tragic even, must often be the fate of those whose deepest feelings are destined from the earliest days to be a riddle and a stumbling-block, unexplained to themselves, passed over in silence by others."

— Edward Carpenter from “The Intermediate Sex: A Study Of Some Transitional Types Of Men And Women”

He folded up the five pages of the letter and tucked them into the last page of the most recent book, then got up and put it on the shelf with the other books that he’d written letters in. He’d put live traps out everywhere, so he wasn’t worried about the mice at this point. He had decided to get a cat like he’d been thinking about, though, once he found time to go to a shelter and pick one up.

Stepping back, he looked over the shelf of book letters. The books only took up about half the space on that shelf so far, but Alex couldn’t help but think about filling it up entirely. And then another, and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to write enough to truly work through what he’d lost. But he had a lot of shelves, and a lot of time, so he may as well keep trying.

Chapter 12: Meeting the Crew

Chapter Text

APRIL 2025

ALEX

June managed to pull everyone together for the second weekend in May. It was still a couple weeks away, so Alex was scrambling to make sure the house was at least livable before then, taking every moment outside of work to work on the most important projects. The mattresses had arrived, at least, and he’d given in and bought a passable couch that would do for now. This weekend’s project was repairing the three front steps up to the porch, and the railings on those steps. He knew where the safe spots to step were (after tripping several times due to the uneven old boards), but he knew no one else would.

Parking his truck outside the local ranch store and lumber yard, he checked his list one last time, scribbling a few things onto it that he’d forgotten. The steps were the priority, but two of the bathrooms needed new fixtures and he wanted to repaint the front door as well. Currently, it was a faded and chipped red that clashed with the orangeish brown adobe.

Inside, the little store was jam packed with towering shelves that aimed to fit as much inside as possible. It was the only store of its type around for miles and miles, so it had to offer a little bit of everything from custom paint to cast iron stoves to horse tack to feed. There were even several horse troughs full of chicks and ducklings right now, all of them getting riled up into a storm of peeping as Alex walked by.

He hadn’t decided if he wanted to get any animals yet, aside from David and the as yet unacquired cat. There was a goat pen and a chicken house at the ranch, but both needed repairs of their own. The barn had certainly held horses at one point, but that had been a long time ago and it was now filled with so much junk Alex was wary of cleaning it out for fear the junk had become structural. So maybe one day. But for now, animals weren’t the priority, no matter how cute they might be.

He headed to the plumbing aisle first, grabbing a couple sets of cheap fixtures. They just needed to work well enough to stop things from leaking until he could do full remodels of the bathrooms. A lot of digging through Youtube tutorials and Reddit threads and then his garage had provided most of the supplies he needed, as far as he could tell, but he still picked up a few odds and ends to help with the project.

Out in the lumber yard he grabbed a pad of paper and a golf pencil from the little basket by the door and started wandering around, noting what he wanted based on what they had in stock. It almost felt wrong to use plain balustrades for the railings when the old homeowner had put so much detail into all the original woodwork, but Alex was no woodcarver. Maybe he could find some other way to spruce them up a little, then order custom ones in the future. He’d have to think on it.

Wood selected, he headed back inside and found the store’s owner, a man named Nate, at the counter. With all his trips to the store for various projects, Alex saw Nate almost more than Geraldo and Antonio. He was in maybe his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and always had a set of small, rectangular glasses perched on his nose. Despite being relatively slight in appearance he had the muscles of someone who had done manual work their whole life. Alex had seen him chuck hay bales around like pillows.

“Morning, Nate,” Alex greeted.

Nate set aside the hunting magazine he’d been reading and smiled. “Alex! Back again. What are you working on this weekend?”

“Front steps, mostly,” Alex told him. “But before you ring me up, I need a quart of paint too. Outdoor satin finish.”

Nate nodded and took the paint swatch Alex had picked out from the ten or so he’d selected as potentials during his last trip to the store. They headed over to the paint mixer together and Nate continued to chat as he mixed up the paint. Alex didn’t mind too much. Nate tended to just ask about the ranch and never let the conversation drift into anything personal.

“Got any non-house plans next weekend?” Nate asked once he’d hammered the lid of the paint back on.

Alex shook his head. That was his last weekend to work on the house before everyone came over. Technically, there was another weekend in between. But that one was the two year anniversary of Henry’s d—. Alex was pretty sure he’d be useless that weekend, so he wasn’t counting it.

“Do you want some non-house plans next weekend?” Nate asked.

“That…heavily depends on what you’re offering,” Alex replied. But probably not. He might be willing to force himself, though, like he had when Geraldo had invited him to dinner after his first day of work. They headed back to the counter and Nate took Alex’s list, starting to key in all the lumber he wanted.

“The firehouse is having our annual charity BBQ on Saturday,” Nate said.

“‘Our’?” Alex replied. “Didn’t know you were a firefighter too.”

“Retired,” Nate clarified. “Used to be their chief for quite awhile, actually, but then I got a bad infection in my leg and had to give it up. But they’re still my crew, and I help out as much as I can.”

“Ah, sorry to hear that,” Alex said. “About your leg, I mean.”

Nate shrugged, giving Alex his total. “Is what it is. Happened right around the time my Pa was lookin’ for someone to take over this place, so it worked out. So, you gonna come by?”

Alex thought it through, remembering seeing all the people from the fire department at the restaurant the night Geraldo had taken him there. He could still remember the easy sound of their laughter, and how he couldn’t look away from all of them.

“I’d like to,” Alex said. “But I’m scrambling to get a few more projects done before my sister and my friends come down for a visit in a few weeks, so I can’t make any promises. I’ll make a donation though. You fundraising for anything in particular?”

“New water tender,” Nate said. “Being so rural, we’re a mixed wildland and structure department. We’d also like to put in a few large reservoir tanks out around the county, for us to refill at if we get calls farther out, but the tender comes first.”

Alex knew he could easily pull out his checkbook and pay for all of that, and more, without even noticing the dip in his accounts. But he also knew how aggravating it was for someone rich to just step in and try to solve all your problems for you without even asking. He also knew that charity events like this weren’t just about the money, they were about building the community. Giving them a common goal to work towards. Just paying for it all himself would take that away.

“How about this,” Alex said. “I’ll give you $20k for the tender, match the rest of the donations, and donate half an acre of my land for you to put one of those reservoirs on when you get around to doing that.”

Nate grinned, sticking his hand out across the counter. “I’ll take that deal.”

Alex shook his hand back and went to retrieve his credit card from where Nate had set it after taking payment for his purchases, only for Nate to slide it away. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“If you can’t come to the BBQ, how about you come join us for drinks this week? There’s always a group at the bar after shift changes. You should come by, say, Monday?” Nate said.

Alex’s other eyebrow rose up to meet the first. “Why are you so determined to get me to come hangout with your firefighters?”

Nate shrugged. “Just figured you might want an opportunity to get to know people around town. I like to be welcoming.”

Alex couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than that, if Nate was doing this out of some sort of pity. An attempt to drag the poor, lonely, former first son out of his shell. Not for the first time, Alex wondered what he looked like to people these days. People who had known him from the news, not from real life. When he looked in the mirror he thought he looked the same, if a little worn down, but maybe everyone else saw something different. Maybe they could feel the sadness that still chewed away at his soul.

He’d been okay with the idea of going to the BBQ. He wouldn’t be the focus there. The one outsider invited in that everyone congregated around. But that was exactly what he’d be if he went out for drinks with them instead. They’d look at him and see his pain and feel sorry. They wouldn’t treat him like a person.

Except…memories tickled at the back of his mind of other nights at other bars with other strangers. How warm and fun and exciting those nights had been, how many great people he’d met like that. Even if those memories were now fogged by grief they were still there.

And the firefighters had been just like that. Alive and happy and open. Maybe…he could at least give it a shot.

“Okay,” Alex said.

“Ohhhhh really?” Bea said, giggling on the other end of the line. “Drinks with firefighters?”

Alex rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see. “Hush. It’s not like that.”

“Oh but it could be,” she replied. “They’re firefighters. Statistically, at least some of them have to be sexy.”

Alex just shook his head, continuing to tape off the window in his front door so he could put paint stripper on the rest to get that horrible red color off. He’d taken the door off and set it on a couple sawhorses in front of the porch and David was enjoying the novelty of being able to wander in and out of the front of the house at his leisure.

“How’s the archer?” Alex asked, trying to change the subject.

“Krister is wonderful,” Bea said.

“He earns a name after I have met him and verified for myself that he is wonderful,” Alex returned.

Bea laughed. “Relax. You’ll like him. You’ll like each other, I think. You both care about a lot of the same things.”

“Are you sure he can’t make it when y’all come visit?” Alex said. He started to slather on the citristrip in thick globs, spreading it out with a chip brush he’d dug up in the garage.

Bea sighed. “No, he’s got an appearance that he has to make for his sponsor. But we’ll figure something out one of these days. Now. Back to these firefighters.”

Alex groaned. “You’re worse than June.”

“They’re firefighters, Alex. How can you not be at least a little bit interested in the potential sexiness factor?”

“Bea, I’m starting to think you are the one with a thing for firefighters. Might need to discuss that with your archer,” Alex teased.

“Pfffft. You’re ridiculous,” Bea responded. Alex was pretty sure he could hear her blushing.

“Look, it’s just a few drinks with some potential new friends, that’s all. Just. Me trying to get to know the people in my new community better. And, as a lawyer, I probably should know the local first responders,” Alex reasoned.

“Uh huh. Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that.”

Alex chuckled, told her he loved her, and ended the call. As he worked, he kept replaying the conversation. Could this maybe lead to something with someone? It certainly felt like it had more potential than randomly meeting someone outside a bar and immediately going to their place to have sex, or getting set up with his boss’s daughter. Or maybe it would just be a bunch of new friends like he’d insisted to Bea. Or maybe it would be nothing at all.

What the hell did one wear to get drinks with a bunch of firefighters? Alex had no idea. He also didn’t really have many clothes to choose from. He had a few suits for work, some heavy jeans and linen shirts for house work (all of which were stained at this point), and a bunch of ratty stuff he’d lived in and grieved in for the last two years. He’d be going straight from work to the bar anyway, so he just settled on staying in his suit and leaving the jacket and tie in his truck.

Work went well. He had a great meeting with a new client who wanted his help pursuing a case against her employer for discriminating against her once she put a pride sticker on her bumper. The case was a slam dunk due to the various text messages and emails her boss had sent. But through it all Alex kept thinking about his plans for the evening. What if he got there and just locked up? What if he got there and couldn’t take being the focus of that many people pitying him without saying it out loud? What if it didn’t hold up to his memories of what nights like this had been like before?

When it was time to walk down to the bar he nearly chickened out and got in his truck to leave. He’d apologize to Nate next time he was in the store. Come up with some excuse about a meeting running late.

But no, dammit.

He was going to do this. It was the first thing in two years that he’d felt so strongly about, even if the main feeling was nervous apprehension. That was better than the dull apathy he’d been slogging through.

He could do this. He could go in there and at least try to socialize.

Half-an-hour. He would go in for half-an-hour. If he still felt like a coiled spring about to explode after thirty minutes, he’d make a polite excuse and leave.

He could do this.

Rolling up his sleeves to escape the muggy heat of late spring, Alex took a deep breath and headed down the street.

Nate spotted him immediately when he stepped into the bar, his grin wide as he waved from the corner where he’d set up shop with six other people. They all waved as well so Alex smiled and went to join them, ignoring how fast his heart was going. It was fine. Everything was fine. He could do this. He just had to act like he did before Henry’s d—.

“There’s the man who keeps buying me out of sh*t!” Nate declared once Alex was standing next to them, clapping Alex on the shoulder as he did. There was something about the way strong people could hold onto you without actually using their strength, but you somehow still knew they had it, and that was exactly how Nate’s hand felt.

“It’s good sh*t,” Alex replied.

Nate laughed, toasting Alex for the compliment. Someone passed an unopened can of beer over and Alex took it gratefully. The bite of cold from where he held the can helped him focus a little more.

“Well, introduce yourselves you little mongrels,” Nate said, twirling a hand at all of them. “I swear, every time I think I’ve got y’all trained in some proper manners you go and prove me wrong. Feral, the lot of you.”

“Maya, but everyone calls me Ripper,” a black woman who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties said.

“Don’t go thinking the nickname is badass,” the guy to her right said. “She earned it because she ripped her pants on her first day.”

Ripper pointed something out across the bar and then quickly slipped an ice cube from her drink down the back of the man’s shirt, making him yelp and wiggle as he pulled his shirt out of his pants to get the cube out. Everyone laughed, and Alex caught himself laughing too.

The man who’d gotten an ice cube down his shirt was Joshua. There was also Felipe, Lauren, Noah, Lightning (Sebastian), and Carlos. All of them looked like they were in their early twenties, except Lauren who was probably in her forties. Another man, this one closer to Alex’s age, came in just as the others were finishing introducing themselves. He was short and sturdily built with two arms full of tattoos.

“Miguel,” he introduced, giving Alex’s hand a firm shake.

“Alex.”

Miguel, it turned out, was a former wildland firefighter who had gotten married three years prior and who had two kids, a boy and a girl. After a close call during a blow up on a fire in California the summer before, he and his wife had moved to Colinas Pérdidas seven months earlier so Miguel could continue to work in fire, but hopefully in a safer way than going out on big wildfires. Since Colinas Pérdidas was only a volunteer fire department, Miguel also worked at Nate’s store. It seemed like that was the case for a lot of the firefighters.

“What do you do if there’s a call and everyone at the store has to take it?” Alex asked.

“Close,” Nate said simply. “Joys of being a small business owner.”

“Haven’t you seen his sign on the door?” Miguel asked, snickering. “It says ‘open when the town’s not on fire, closed when it is.’”

Alex laughed. “No, I guess I’ve missed that. Usually when I’m going in and out, I’ve got my nose buried in my list of whatever I need for my current project since I’ve got no damn clue what I’m doing.”

The conversation continued to ebb and flow as people came and went and before Alex knew it not only had half-an-hour passed, a whole hour had. He even got roped into playing several rounds of pool, winning most of them. His mother had taught him well, after all.

Somehow, this was working. He was actually having fun. Not once did he feel like he was being pitied, or handled with kid gloves. No one brought up that he was the former first son or asked annoying questions about living in the White House or what it had been like to date a prince. He was just another guy playing pool and having drinks—though he switched to soda after the first beer.

By the time he left he’d spent three hours at the bar and he almost didn’t want to leave at all. He might’ve stayed later if he didn’t have work the next day. An invitation was given for him to join them any time, and Alex didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Chapter 13: BONUS SCENE

Chapter Text

May 2025

Bonus Scene

JUNE

“Babe, breathe,” Nora said from the passenger seat. “And stop holding the steering wheel so tight. It looks like your fingers are about to break.”

June sighed, forcing herself to relax back into the seat of the rental car. “Sorry. I just…don’t know what to expect here, and the closer we get the more keyed up I get.”

Nora reached across the center consul and squeezed June’s knee reassuringly. “He’s doing better.”

“He’s doing different,” June said. “I don’t know if that equals ‘better.’”

“He invited us all out, didn’t he? That’s better. We didn’t have to corner him and forcibly drag him out this time.”

“There’s that.”

June didn’t quite know what to expect from this trip to see Alex’s new house. He’d dropped plenty of pictures into the group text thread, but they’d mostly been of the interior. He’d hardly shared anything of the outside since he’d moved in. But, if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really care about the house at all. She cared about seeing her little brother, seeing if he was safe and, hopefully, even a little happier than he had been ever since Henry’s death. He sounded like was when they talked over the phone, but June knew better than anyone how good Alex could be at faking that he was fine, even to himself. She needed to see him in person to know for sure, and this would be the first time she’d had the chance since he moved.

“Ohhhh, this is it!” Nora said, pointing out the window to the entrance to Alex’s driveway. “Wow. Can’t even see the house yet, but the place is gorgeous.”

It was. The entrance to the property was flat for a very short distance, maybe twenty yards, before it rolled up into low hills, the driveway winding between them. Every hill was covered in an explosion of wildflowers and patches of boulders poking up out of the dirt. Birds darted everywhere, feasting on the bugs that feasted on the flowers. June was sure that if she got out and started looking around, she’d find dozens of the little lizards she’d loved to chase as a child.

A couple minutes later they came around a hill to a flat area. A sprawling adobe house sat at the center surrounded by several outbuildings, all of it lit by the warm afternoon sun. Alex was on the porch, one arm slung over Bea’s shoulders and laughing with Pez about something. June felt as her body unknotted a little more. Even from a distance she could tell that was a real laugh.

Nora squeezed her knee again, smiling when June glanced at her. “See?”

June nodded. Maybe he was finally doing a little better after all.

Chapter 14: Gardening

Chapter Text

MAY 2025

HENRY

The weed resisted him as Henry tried to pull it, thorny leaves digging into the skin of his palm. What he wouldn’t give for some damn gloves. But there was no way he’d ever get those. After the incident with the bird a year earlier, he’d lost any and all goodwill he may have ever had with his guards. There’d been no more snacks in the pantry, no more juice in the fridge. Just the same day over and over again. Breakfast and news clippings on the table in the morning. Lunch. Tea. Supper. Sleep.

Henry had never seen the bird with the message again, and at this point he’d given up all hope that getting a message out that way had worked. Probably it had just fallen off into the dirt somewhere as the bird flew away. But the guards had never mentioned it again, and he’d never been sat down to chat with Mary so he figured they hadn’t told her about it either. That was something, at least. No consequences for Alex because of Henry’s mistake.

He’d tried and failed to come up with other plans since then. There just wasn’t anything else in the house he could use. He’d gone so far as to tear up floorboards in some of the rooms, hoping he could find some old hideyhole that had been missed. All this had produced, however, was a tattered old doll, some wayward coins, and splinters in his fingers. Escape was seeming further and further out of reach every day, no matter how Henry tried to think about it.

The idea of lighting the whole house on fire seemed like the only thing left, but he couldn’t get past the guilt he’d feel if the fire spread. His second year here hadn’t been any wetter than the first, and Henry didn’t have it in him to take that risk just to save himself. Besides, he still had no way to start a fire. Maybe if he really worked at it he could start one with rocks or sticks, but that would be a long process the guards would be sure to interrupt. If he wanted to start a fire, he’d need a way to do it quickly. Which he did not have.

Still, fire always hung in the back of his mind as a possibility. There was no way the guards could fight a big enough fire themselves, and the old house would go up quickly. With it gone, the guards would have to take him somewhere else. Or kill him. Henry was aware that might be a possibility too. He didn’t want to die. But, at the same time, he wasn’t sure how much more of this monotony he could take.

About mid-winter the year before, he’d made up his mind to act as if fire was indeed a possibility. Maybe, someday, he would find a way to light one and, if he did, he wanted to be ready. Which had led to gardening. Or what the guards saw as gardening, anyway. Really, Henry was trying to clear out all the overgrowth from the yard so that if he did light the house on fire, he’d have somewhere to retreat to that wouldn’t burn.

The guards left him to it and Henry had worked all summer to clear out the whole compound. It had been a rather arduous task without a single real tool to help, but at least it gave him something to do every day. Every weed he pulled up, every bramble he pulled out of the ground, all got piled along the east wall, near the gate. Every couple weeks, when the pile started to get too tall, Henry would hear the gate open once he was locked in his room for the night. The next morning, the pile would be gone.

Henry hadn’t actually planned on them removing the piles. That had just been the most convenient place to put everything. He doubted he ever could’ve stacked up enough rotting plants to give him the boost he needed to get over the wall, but he figured that must be why they removed the plants. Any hopes he had of escaping while the gate was open, though, had been dashed when he’d quickly realized that there was always a guard directly outside his bedroom door the entire time. Besides, the other two would be at that gate, and armed. Henry would never get past any of them. Plus, winter was approaching once again, and Henry still had no way to survive the cold.

No. Right now escape just wasn’t a possibility. At least not in any way that he could see.

Henry ignored the manila folder on the table as usual the next morning. He hadn’t opened it once in the past three months. He didn’t want to know. There was nothing he could control about anything that might be in that folder. It was easier just not looking. Most of it was half information anyway. Little snippets taken out of context that made Henry’s brain spin. Better to ignore the folder and just get on with it. He had gardening to do.

The whole yard was nearly clear now, taken down to the dirt with only a few weeds cropping up in his wake. Henry had no idea what the quality of the soil here was, or what might grow, or when the best time to grow would be, but he figured he may as well keep up the gardening ruse. He’d been saving seeds from the tomatoes in the sandwiches he got for lunch, but that was all he really had. Occasionally he’d get a supper that involved potatoes, but they were always cooked so Henry doubted they’d grow. Besides, it was almost winter. Any growing would have to be started in the spring. For now, he needed to finish clearing the last corner by the auxiliary well. He only knew that’s what it was because the old clay pipe jutting out of the ground in that corner had the words “auxiliary well” scratched into the side.

The pipe was around six inches across and stuck out of the ground about a foot. It was capped and generally unremarkable. Henry had tried to get the cap off at one point during his early explorations of the property, but it was firmly in place so he’d given up, doubting it would be worth the effort.

One stem at a time, he yanked the weeds and plants out, making little piles that he eventually carried to the big pile. It was exhausting work that made his arms ache, but he kept going. There was a particularly big something—that was also very dead—growing up right around the well pipe. Henry pulled at it for about ten minutes before giving up and retrieving a stick to try and dig out the roots with. The stick was the closest thing he had to a real tool, but it was only about an inch thick and a foot long, so it wasn’t much. He jabbed it into the earth anyway, the dry dirt crumbling away into dust without putting up any resistance.

When the stick hit something hard, he at first thought it must be a root, or maybe even the well pipe. But a little scraping in the area revealed something else. A box. Only one corner of it had become visible, but it was clearly metal. Knowing that there was a camera just over his shoulder, and two others that could see him from other points in the yard, Henry kept digging.

The plant had completely wrapped the box up in its roots, which made it relatively easy for Henry to conceal what he was doing. As long as he kept his body between the box and the closest camera, he figured he’d be okay. After about ten more minutes of work, he’d uncovered the box entirely. It was an old ammunition case. Rust had chewed several holes in it, including around the small padlock keeping it closed. Somewhat wary of what might be inside—and what hitting it might do—Henry aimed a quick jab of the stick at the lock. It fell away easily and Henry leaned in to flip the lid open, hands shaking slightly as he did.

Right on top there were papers and some photos. Henry shoved them aside without looking. Below that was nothing but a few knickknacks. A little old toy car. Some jacks. A necklace. A little magnifying glass. It was nothing but a time capsule. There was nothing in there Henry could use.

Disappointed and too exhausted to continue digging, Henry grabbed the papers and tucked them under his shirt to bring inside. Maybe he could at least glean a little more information about where he was by reading whatever was on those papers. Getting up, he kicked some dirt into the hole to cover the box and headed inside for supper.

That night, as the lock on his bedroom door clicked closed behind him, Henry set about his nightly routine. A quick shower—the papers he’d found still concealed in his shirt—and changing into pajamas. Then he pulled the Sherlock Holmes collection off the shelf and settled into bed to read. He didn’t dare pull out the scrap of newspaper with Alex’s picture on it that had been in there for a year now, but he did allow himself to slide his thumb under the endpaper and feel the edge of the concealed scrap of newsprint.

These few minutes before bed every night were all he allowed himself when it came to thinking about Alex anymore. After two years, Henry knew there was no going back to what they’d had before. Henry was dead and Alex would’ve moved on. Their short time together was permanently locked away in memory.

Henry wasn’t sure when he’d fully accepted that, but it had been brewing in the back of his mind for awhile. Besides, he was so broken now, he doubted Alex would even want him. Alex would act like he did, because he was noble like that, but he’d end up exhausted and frustrated by all of Henry’s new jagged edges, Henry was sure of it.

No one would want Henry the way he was now. Henry hadn’t even talked in months. He wasn’t even sure he knew how at this point. Let alone how to interact with someone. To trust someone. He was alone now, and he would be forev—

Shuddering, Henry shook his head and closed the book with a firm snap. He hated nights. All his anxieties managed to spiral out of control the second the sun went down, twisting up into looming monsters he couldn’t escape even when he fell asleep. At least in the daylight he could move around, keep his mind busy by keeping his body busy. But up here in this little room, there was nowhere to hide.

Putting Sherlock Holmes back on the shelf, he went and retrieved the papers he’d found earlier, giving up on concealing them. If the guards wanted to come take them away, so be it.

Back in his bed, he flipped open the first sheet of folded paper. A child’s hand had scrawled a letter there, saying they hoped their mother and father would let them have their toys back soon. With a frown, Henry unfolded the next paper, which was actually three papers folded together. This letter had been written by a teenage girl named Amelia-Joe, and Henry’s heart ached for her as he read.

Her family had originally lived in Sydney in the sixties until her parents had met a preacher that told them the end of the world was coming. He’d convinced her parents to move out to this home, and prepare it for the rest of the church to join them before the end. She, her older brother, and their parents had built the wall, and a bunker in the backyard, over the next four years. At first it hadn’t been too bad. Hard work, she said, but they still went into town and read books and played games and lived life. But overtime her parents had become more and more strict with her and her siblings—of which there were five total—taking away things on the orders of the preacher. First their books had vanished, then their games. Amelia-Joe, seeing what this was doing to her youngest siblings, had made the time capsule with them. She’d told them that it would be there waiting for them, full of their favorite things for when their parents let them have them again.

But it had never been dug up. Not until today. Henry wondered what happened to all of them. Had they escaped? Or, at that point, with the wall around them, had they been just as stuck as Henry now was? At least they would’ve had each other.

Aside from confirming that there was a bunker—which must be where the guards lived—the letter from Amelia-Joe didn’t give Henry any other useful information. There was nothing about where they were. It was just another dead end.

Tossing the letters to the floor, Henry slid down the wall until he was lying on the bed, staring at the water stained ceiling. Maybe he’d just stay right here forever. Not get up in the morning for breakfast, or any meal after that.

He wondered what the guards would do if he tried to starve himself, or if he got sick somehow, or injured beyond what they could handle themselves. Sick was probably out of the question, at least not in any way that could be helpfully predictable. As far as he knew he was healthy, and it wasn’t like he was getting exposed to anyone who might be carrying something. Injured was more of a possibility, but Henry wasn’t exactly excited about the possibility of injuring himself. Especially if it turned out they wouldn’t provide him adequate medical care. Starving was probably a bad idea as well, given how weak it would make him, preventing him taking advantage of any other chance at escape that might come up.

No, Henry had to keep going as he was. He’d get up in the morning, go downstairs for breakfast, and just keep living the same day over and over again. Because even if no one wanted him anymore, he didn’t want to die here.

Chapter 15: Tryouts

Chapter Text

JUNE 2025

ALEX

Freddie the cat was an orange creature that was strangely dense. Picking him up felt a lot like trying to move a cinderblock. But he was a damn good mouser, happily patrolling the whole house and piling his prizes up around his water dish for Alex to find every morning. David had been somewhat unsure of their new housemate when Alex brought him home from the shelter two weeks earlier, but they’d quickly become buddies. Both of them loved to laze together on the couch June and Nora had picked out for the library, having fully claimed one corner of it for themselves. There was a very specific arrangement to the pillows and blankets there, and lord help Alex if he messed it up.

“Behave,” Alex told both of them as he gathered up his things. “I’m going to the bar tonight, so I’ll be home late. The auto-feeders will give you dinner.”

Freddie and David both stared at him reproachfully, like they actually understood what he was saying and the fact that it would mean a kibble dinner instead of a wet food one. They’d live, though, despite any theatrics they both might perform. It was high-end kibble. They had the yard they could both go into as well—Alex had closed off the top with chicken wire once he brought Freddie home.

“Be good!” Alex called on his way out the door.

Work was a productive, if somewhat tedious, day of filing a lot of paperwork for a lot of immigration cases. He’d put a large glass jar in the window of his office and for every person he helped gain citizenship, he added a little pebble. There were only a couple in there so far, but even that felt like a massive accomplishment given that he’d barely been at the job two months.

But, as much as he was enjoying work, he was enjoying what came after work even more. Ever since his first night out with the fire department, he’d been going at least once a week, sometimes two or three. It reminded him a lot of his days playing lacrosse in High School, except the beer was legal. Plus, not once in all the time he’d been going had he been asked a single invasive question. Mostly, they all just joked around and talked about whatever. Stories about fires were common, but out here most of their calls were actually for car accidents and medical assistance.

Alex had found he could never get enough of these stories. He couldn’t put his finger on why, he just liked hearing about them, about the different ways the department helped out. Somehow, it had never really occurred to him just how much a small town fire department might do. A man had fallen off his ladder while cleaning his gutters, so Ripper and Miguel had come back the next day and finished the job since his leg was broken. A little girl wanted to see fire trucks for her birthday, but had to cancel at the last minute when she got a cold, so they’d driven every truck past her house. A woman had been trapped—but relatively uninjured—in her car after a rollover, so to keep her calm while they waited for the right tools to show up to get her out, Miguel had wormed his way into the passenger seat and played tic-tac-toe with her on his phone.

There were more dramatic stories as well, of course. Actual fires where people had to be pulled half-conscious out of burning buildings or cars. A few little wildfires. A handful of more serious car crashes. Those stories got traded around with a little more reverence, but they weren’t shied away from. Alex got the sense it was cathartic for all of them to discuss those things with people who understood. People who had been in those same dark spaces, whether it was pulling bodies out of a sunken car or smelling charred flesh on the body of someone they hadn’t been able to get out in time. Those were things most people would never really understand, but that wasn’t true of the other people in the department. They got it. They wouldn’t shy away from those conversations, or treat the person telling them like they were broken.

It almost made Alex want to talk about Henry. Almost. Maybe they’d get it. Get how many times Alex had woken up from sweaty nightmares about a plane crashing into the trees, smashing into a million firey pieces on the ground as Henry sat terrified and alone inside, begging for Alex to help him.

He hadn’t done it yet, though. This was all still too new and, even if he enjoyed drinking with them—and they didn’t seem to be bothered by having him around—he wasn’t one of them. So, for now, he just listened to their stories without ever contributing any of his own.

“Alex!” Miguel called from across the bar. “You’re late!”

“Paperwork is a bitch,” Alex replied, sliding onto a stool next to Miguel. “How’d Sadie’s gymnastics meet go over the weekend?”

“Killed it. My little girl is the next Simone Biles, I’m tellin’ you now.”

Alex poured himself a glass of beer from the pitcher at the center of the table, then held it up to toast. “Good for her.”

Miguel clinked his glass against Alex’s and they both took a long swig.

“Alex! Good to see you!” Nate said, taking the seat on Alex’s other side. “So, listen—”

“Oh no, here we go,” Miguel said with a grin.

Nate threw a balled up napkin at him and kept going. “I assume you’ve heard us talking about our annual recruitment drive coming up this weekend.”

“If you run now, I’ll cover your exit,” Miguel said.

Nate ignored him. “You should come.”

Alex couldn’t say he hadn’t seen this coming. Nate had dropped multiple hints about Alex volunteering with them, the hints getting less and less subtle every time. If Nate had asked him straight up when Alex had first started drinking with them, he would’ve said no. Never in his life had he considered being a firefighter.

Except now, after getting to know all of them, getting to know more about what they actually did, the idea did have a certain appeal. Hadn’t that been what he’d put on his list of things that made him happy right before he’d started over again, after all? Helping people quickly? Well, being a firefighter was about as quick as it could get when it came to helping people.

“What exactly would this recruitment day entail?” Alex asked, not giving in just yet.

“Oh, now you’ve done it. You’re trapped,” Miguel said as Nate grinned.

“It’s pretty simple,” Nate explained. “We do a presentation of what joining the department means, what we do, all that sort of stuff. Then we get you into a full set of gear and run you through our training obstacle course—fake smoke included—so you can get a feel for everything. After that we run you through the physical test—pushups, pullups, a timed run, that sort of stuff. If you decide to sign on, you’ll go through a two week basic training course, then we’ll start working you into the system so you can get on the job training. Plus, we’ll help you figure out a specialty to hone your training more. Wildland, engine, medical, up to you. We’ve got some grants that can pay for all the training, so you’re not out of pocket.”

“Well cost is hardly an issue here,” Alex said.

“Is that a yes, then?” Nate said.

Alex took another swig of beer. “How would the schedule work?”

“You come when you can,” Nate replied. “Whatever works for you, and your day job. If you’ve got some court case keeping you busy, then you’ve got some court case keeping you busy.”

“Once you’re in, you can never leave,” Miguel said, his voice full of mock graveness.

Alex snorted and threw his head back. “What the hell. I’ll be there.”

That Saturday, Alex showed up at the fire station bright and early. There were about a dozen other people milling around in an empty engine bay, waiting for the event to start. About half looked like they were Alex’s age or younger—maybe even a couple who were barely out of high school. A woman, also about Alex’s age, was sitting at a fold out table and checking everyone in. She had a tiny little baby strapped to her chest and was rocking side to side as she worked to keep the baby settled.

“Name?” The woman said with a smile.

“Alexander Claremont-Diaz,” Alex told her.

“Eloisa,” she replied, checking his name off on a list she had. “Miguel told me all about you.”

“Oh?” If Miguel was the one telling stories, Alex couldn’t imagine what picture Eloisa might’ve been given.

She chuckled. “Oh yes. He seems very excited that you’re considering joining up. They all do. I heard something about getting back at you for how often you kick their asses in pool.”

Alex laughed. “They make it easy to win. So, do you work here too?”

Eloisa smiled, but Alex was startled to see a hint of sadness in her smile. He didn’t think he would’ve noticed if it weren’t for the fact he’d felt that exact same expression on his own face so many times in the last two years.

“No,” she said. “My husband did. But he…passed away about six months ago in a car accident.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alex said softly. He was forcing himself not to look at the baby on her chest, but the math was easy to do. Her husband had passed away before he’d ever gotten the chance to know his child.

Eloisa sighed, dropping her head forward to give the baby a kiss. “He was a good man. After what happened, everyone here stepped in to help me and Ines. They’re a great bunch.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, that’s what it seems like.”

Unsure what else to say, Alex took the folder full of information Eloisa handed him and went to join everyone else.

Despite the unexpectedly somber start to the morning, Alex found himself enjoying himself more and more as the day went on. When it came time to gear up, Miguel was the one paired up with him to help him get everything on.

“Having fun yet?” Miguel asked as he showed Alex how to do up the straps for the air tank that was now on his back.

“Actually, yes,” Alex replied. He meant it too.

“Alright, everybody listen up!” Victoria—the current chief of the station—called. “Your goal is to follow the blue flags through the course, retrieve the casualty, and extract the casualty. You will be timed. There will be fake smoke. If you get stuck or lost, just shout. My guys are stationed all along the course and will come help you out. Portions of the course may move as you go through them. Things may be thrown at you as you go through. The lights may go off. Failure is a perfectly acceptable option; your safety and comfort come first. Dead firefighters are no good to me. Claremont-Diaz, you’re up first.”

Alex hadn’t expected that, but he stepped up to the door to the course without hesitation. They hadn’t been told anything about what the inside was like except that there were some places where they’d walk, some places where they’d have to crouch or crawl, and some places where they’d have to climb.

A horn sounded and he went through the doorway, instantly enveloped by the dimness inside. There was only ambient light from the doorway, but it was more than enough to light up the smoke rolling under the three new doorways he could see, one on each wall. Only the one on the left had a blue flag, though, so he took it.

As soon as he pulled the door open the smoke poured out and Alex ducked low, trying to get under it to see where he was supposed to go next. With a quick scan he found the flag at the entrance to a hole in the wall. He’d have to army crawl through it.

Five minutes and forty-two seconds after he’d gone in, Alex was coming back out the front door of the course, floppy mannequin thrown over his shoulders the way he’d seen it done in the movies. His heart was racing in the best way, and he couldn’t make himself stop grinning.

Everyone clapped and Ripper came to take the mannequin and put it back in the course for the next person.

“Thoughts?” Miguel asked, sauntering over to stand with Alex as the next person went through. He offered to help Alex get the gear off, but Alex waved him away so he could try himself.

“That was surprisingly fun,” Alex told him. “Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be considering becoming a firefighter but…” Alex trailed off with a shake of his head. He didn’t know how to put his current feelings into words. Didn’t know how to express that this was the most alive he’d felt in two years.

After everyone completed the course, they all went back to the empty engine bay for lunch. Miguel and Ripper joined him at a table, and so did Eloisa.

“My turn with the little nugget,” Ripper said, making grabby hands over the table in the direction of Ines. Eloisa chuckled and handed her daughter over.

“I don’t think my daughter has spent a single minute not being held since she was born,” Eloisa told Alex.

“Of course not,” Ripper cooed, making faces at the wiggly, smiling baby in her arms.

Alex couldn’t help but smile as well. It had been a long time since he’d been around such a little baby. A couple of his cousins had kids, but the current youngest was five, so long past the cute baby stage.

“How old is she?” Alex asked.

“Four months and three days,” Eloisa answered.

Before anything else could be said several short beeps went off over the speakers in the bay and half the firefighters there sprung into motion. Ripper, who had been right next to Alex, handed Ines off to him without a word and dashed to the engine that was parked in the next bay. In less than a minute it had peeled out of its spot and taken off down the street, sirens blaring.

Alex couldn’t help but be somewhat startled at how quick it had happened. It was one thing to know that firefighters responded as quick as possible, it was another to see it happen in real time.

“Ah…I can give her back,” Alex said to Eloisa, well aware that he was now holding the baby of a woman who was essentially a stranger and had not given him permission.

Eloisa shook her head. “Not a chance. Do you know how rare it is I get to eat with two hands these days?”

Alex laughed, watching as she took a hearty two-handed bite of her burger. Eloisa reminded him a lot of June, somehow.

Ines didn’t seem to mind that she was suddenly in the arms of a stranger, happily playing with Alex’s fingers as he dangled them over her. When Victoria stood up at the end of lunch, everyone went quiet. Alex still had Ines in his arms, but he shifted her to his shoulder so he could take notes on his phone if he needed to.

“Our fastest time on the course was four minutes and ten seconds,” Victoria said.

The recently graduated high school football player who had gotten that time grinned, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“I was not looking for the fastest time,” Victoria continued, causing the guy to deflate slightly. “I was looking for safety and problem solving. Firefighting is not just physical, it is, more than anything else, mental. If you go into it just trying to be the fastest and bestest the whole time, you’re going to fail and when you fail at this job, people die.” Victoria paused, letting her words sink in. “We’re a small department. We don’t get big city training here. I need to know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders from the start. Now, with that in mind, let’s head outside to do the strength tests.”

Alex handed Ines off to her mother, mind turning over Victoria’s words. Alex was used to being the best. Had spent his whole life trying to be the best. But if his short time with Henry had taught him anything, it was that ‘the best’ wasn’t always what you thought it was, nor was it always an easily measurable metric. Which, in a way, was exactly what Victoria had been saying. The best wasn’t the fastest, it was the person who did it right.

Five people gave up during the physical tests, and Alex barely made it through himself. He wasn’t completely out of shape, but he certainly wasn’t in firefighting shape. If it hadn’t been for all the work he’d been doing at the ranch, he probably would’ve been one of the people who washed out, though.

“Here,” Eloisa said, kneeling next to him with a water bottle where he’d flopped onto the grass after he finished.

Alex took it gratefully, stupidly glad to find it was ice cold. He chugged down half and then dumped the rest over his face, which made Ines squeal with laughter. She was strapped to Eloisa’s chest once again, but this time facing outward.

“Oh, am I funny now?” Alex said.

Ines squealed again, flailing her arms up and down.

Victoria came over to them and Alex got to his feet.

“Alex, you did great today,” Victoria said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Thanks,” Alex told her.

“We’d love to have you. And I’m not just saying that because I think the crew has already adopted you.”

Alex glanced over her shoulder to see all the firefighters huddled in the doorway of the engine bay, all of them grinning in his direction. Miguel, Ripper, and the others who had gone on the call had just gotten back, but they were hovering like all the rest instead of putting their engine back together for the next call.

Alex smiled, not having to hesitate at all when he said, “I’m in.”

When he got home that afternoon, he was shocked to find his dad on his porch. Oscar’s big smile as Alex drove up quickly chased away any worry that something might be wrong.

“I’d hug you, but I am still dripping with sweat,” Alex said as his dad came down off the porch to greet him. “What are you doing here?”

“The week was too damn long, and I needed a break. Took Monday off so I could fly out here for a visit,” his dad said, hugging him anyway. “Oh lord, Mijo, you reek.”

“I did warn you,” Alex laughed. He led the way back up the porch and unlocked the front door. David and Freddie both ran over to greet him, making a storm of noise in the process.

“What were you doing? Running?” his dad asked, looking around once they were both inside. He’d already visited once, to help Alex with the garage (they’d only gotten through about half of it), but a lot had changed since then. The courtyard was about half cleaned up now, which had revealed there was actually a pond under all the plant life. Alex had also taken down all the cabinet doors in the kitchen so they could be stripped and restained. Plus, he’d knocked out part of a wall in the office so that he could put an interior window in it, to give a view into the courtyard.

“Ahhhhhhh…” Alex hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain what he’d been up to. Bea was the only one who knew he’d even been going out drinking with the fire crew. No one at all knew he’d been considering joining them.

His dad raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“Okay. So.” This was going so well. “I’m not giving up on being a lawyer. Love the new job at this little firm.”

“Good to know,” his dad said.

“But I don’t want to just be some hermit lawyer, you know? So I’ve been spending time at the local bar, getting to know people. And some of the people I’ve gotten to know are the local volunteer firefighters.”

His dad’s eyebrows managed to rise even higher.

Alex blew out a long breath, then just plowed on. “I was trying out to maybe join up today. And, well, I did. I did join up. They’re willing to work with my schedule; I’ll probably only be working with them for ten hours a week or so.”

“Huh,” was his dad’s only response.

Alex bit his lip.

“Why firefighting?” his dad asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Alex thought about it. He still hadn’t been able to pin down exactly why this felt so right. “I’ve just…gotten to know the crew really well, and I like the way they talk about what they do. If I was still in New York or Austin, I wouldn’t do it. But a small town department like this? It’s different. More focused on the little things.”

“So, the same reason you quit your old job?” His dad said.

Alex nodded.

His dad nodded back. “Well, I can’t say I would’ve ever expected you to do it, or that it doesn’t worry me a little for you to be getting into a dangerous profession, but if it makes you happy, then I’m glad you’re doing it.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Alex said. “I’ll call mom and June tomorrow and tell them myself, okay?”

His dad nodded, pulling Alex into another, tighter hug. “You deserve to be happy, Mijo. If this is what makes that happen, then I’m glad you found it.”

Alex swallowed heavily, hoping his dad would leave it at that.

His dad stepped back after a moment, making an exaggerated gagging face. “Seriously, go take a damn shower. I’ll get dinner started.”

Alex laughed. “Fine, fine.”

Later that night, after his dad had gone to bed, Alex wandered into the library. He hadn’t found another book Henry might like yet, but he still felt the need to write to him after the events of the day. Maybe that would help him untangle his thoughts a little.

Henry, who would probably be very confused about what I did today,

Or would you? Now that I think about it, I’m not sure what you would say about me becoming a firefighter, even if it’s just for ten hours a week on a volunteer basis. Which…I think that scares me more, that I don’t know what you would think. I used to be so good at figuring that out. Sometimes even better than you were. But now, so much time has passed…it’s like that’s fading away.

f*ck.

I don’t know.

Would you be cautiously optimistic about it the way my dad is? Would you be scared about me getting hurt, and ask me not to do it because of that? Or would you say ‘go for it’ because it’s something that’s making me happier than I’ve been since I lost you?

I wouldn’t even be doing it all if it weren’t for what happened to you, though. We’d still be living in New York, probably. I’d probably still be working some flashy law job and you’d be killing it at the center. Firefighting never would’ve entered the equation, because there wouldn’t have been a reason for it to. If you were still here, I never would’ve gotten so lost.

I guess that’s what it comes down to. I’ve been so f*cking lost the last two years, and this is the first time that I’ve really felt like I might know which way is up again. The people on this crew, I’ve gotten to know them pretty well the last couple months. I like them. I like what they do and how they do it. It just clicks for me.

The part about helping people I’m sure you’d understand. There’s no doubt about that, at least. It’s the way I’m doing it, and the fact that it’s a little dangerous, that I’m not sure what you’d say to.

I don’t know. I’ve said that a lot in this letter, but I just don’t.

I miss you, baby. I miss knowing you that well, and knowing that you knew me that well in return.

Alex kept going, telling Henry more about each of the people on the crew, and about Eloisa and Ines, and how the tryouts had gone. The letter ended up being six pages long by the time he was done, and he felt more emotionally wrung out than he usually did after writing one of these letters. It was hard to say if it was going to be in a good way or a bad way right now.

He wasn’t sure what quote to finish it off with, but in the end chose a short and simple one. It wasn’t from his list of quotes from notable queer letters, just another random one he’d picked up somewhere along the way after Henry’s d—.

P.S. “It takes time for the absent to assume their true shape in our thoughts. After death they take on a firmer outline and then cease to change.” -Colette

Chapter 16: BONUS SCENE 2

Chapter Text

June 2025

Bonus Scene

MIGUEL

“So, how did it go today?” Beth asked, lounging on their bed as Miguel puttered around putting the laundry away. Despite a long day at work—there had been a small house fire after the recruitment drive ended—Miguel always liked coming home and putting the laundry away. It was neat and orderly and methodical, which was a good way to settle his mind.

“Good. Found a couple very promising recruits,” Miguel told his wife.

“Does that include bar guy?”

Miguel laughed. “Yes, that includes bar guy. He was the best of the bunch.”

“Remind me of his name?”

“Alex,” Miguel said. She waved her hand in a circle, trying to get more out of him. Miguel gave his answer slowly, saying the words carefully. “Alexander…Claremont-Diaz.”

Beth sat up, blinking a few times as she processed the information. “As in…the son of the former president?”

Miguel nodded. “Look, whenever you end up meeting him, don’t bring up who he is, okay? He’s just a guy, that’s it. I get the sense he really needs some normalcy.”

Miguel hadn’t recognized Alex when they’d first met at the bar. He’d been vaguely aware of the guy and everything that had happened to him, but he’d never paid enough attention to memorize Alex’s face or anything. When he’d found out who Alex was, though, a lot had clicked into place. The longing looks Alex sent in the direction of any couple he saw—looks he didn’t seem to think anyone else noticed. The way he struggled to join in conversations. The times he would start to jump into a session of sharing sh*tty life stories about hard fire calls only to pull back at the last second every time.

“Of course,” Beth said. “But I have to ask, knowing what he’s gone through, do you think he’s in the right headspace to be a firefighter?”

There was no hesitation as Miguel said, “Yes.”

Beth wrapped her arms around her knees. “You’re sure?”

“Entirely. He’s still grieving, hard, but he’s smart and quick on his feet. During the tests today, that was the first time I’ve seen him open up and enjoy himself. He really was the best of the bunch.”

“Well, then hopefully this will turn out to be what he needs,” Beth said with a smile.

Miguel reflected the smile, crawling onto the bed to give her a kiss. Just as it was starting to turn a little more heated, their daughter called out from her room that she didn’t feel good. Miguel pulled back with a sigh and another smile.

“Duty calls.”

“I can go take care of her,” Beth said. “You had a long day, get some sleep.” She kissed his cheek, then slid out of bed and padded across the hall. Miguel curled up into the warm spot she left behind, intending to only stay there for a moment before wiggling back to his side, but within seconds he was fast asleep.

Chapter 17: Announcement

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 2025

HENRY

So far, every single morning when Henry had come downstairs he had been greeted by the same thing. Breakfast—these days it was two pieces of toast, beans, two eggs, two sausage links or patties, and a glass of orange juice—and a manila folder full of newspaper clippings. The folder was always to the right of the plate, just next to the silverware (which was, actually, plastic). Some days it would have a dozen clippings, other days it would only have one or two. A few times it hadn’t even been there at all. But in the two-and-a-half years he’d been imprisoned, he’d never come downstairs to find it to be the only thing on the table at all.

Henry, standing at the bottom of the back staircase that lead directly into the dining room, didn’t move. He just stayed on the bottom step and stared at it. The front of the folder was lifted ever so slightly, like whatever was inside was thick, but that was all he could tell.

He had to know.

He didn’t want to know.

He tentatively took the last step off the stairs, circling around the table to where the single chair was pushed in just in front of the folder. Steeling himself, he reached out and flicked open the top flap. Inside was a creamy piece of luxurious paper, the royal family coat of arms at the top and an illustration of a complicated pink bow below that, the trailing ribbons fanning out to frame the text.

Henry’s heart climbed into his throat and his whole body began to shake. He fumbled his way into the chair before he fell over, never breaking eye-contact with the paper.

It was a birth announcement.

Elizabeth Anne Margaret Grace Mountchristen-Windsor. Born September 4th, 2025. Seven pounds, eight ounces.

Philip had a daughter.

Philip had his heir.

The laws of primogeniture favoring sons had been changed when Philip and Martha were married, meaning this little girl was the future queen of England, no matter the gender of any later siblings. She’d never get superseded by a brother the way Bea had when Henry himself had been born.

Henry lifted up the announcement to check if there was anything underneath, finding that there wasn’t. That was worse. He wanted some indication of how his grandmother was feeling right now. She hadn’t ordered him killed in his sleep, so she must still be holding out for a spare, right? She had to be.

It was a long time before Henry managed to pull himself away from the table. He didn’t bother to check the fridge to see if any food had been left in there for him—he was too nauseous to eat. Outside, the clouds were just starting to clear off after a night of on and off rain. It made everything outside humid but cool, the moisture sticking to Henry’s skin.

Philip had a daughter.

Henry wondered what she looked like. Did she have Philip’s eyes? Martha’s smile? She was just an innocent little baby. She had no idea what role she had been born into in her great-grandmother’s plans. If she was lucky, Mary would die before Elizabeth was ever old enough for Mary to get her claws into. She deserved that. It was the closest thing to a shot at a safe life the little girl would ever get.

Mary’s death was something Henry had been contemplating a lot lately. She wasn’t young, by any stretch of the imagination. But she was also relatively physically healthy as far as he knew, and she had access to the best medical care in the world at all times. Her own mother had lived to a-hundred-and-two.

But Henry still wondered. What would happen if she died while he was still locked up in here? Would the guards just kill him and be done with it? Henry didn’t dare hope his mother would figure everything out when she inherited the throne. Mary wouldn’t make it that easy.

Outside, he did what he always did lately: walked in circles around the house. He’d finished cleaning up the space ages ago, leaving it nothing but bare dirt. Some weeds had started to crop back up, but as long as they stayed small he didn’t worry about them. He just walked. Sometimes in plain circles right up next to the house, other times in a path that meandered all over, sometimes in spirals out from the house and then back again.

Once, in a fit of boredom, he’d used a stick to scratch out some math in the dirt to figure out how far he’d walked that day, somewhat shocked to find it had been nearly fifteen miles. He’d had water, though. As much as he’d needed, and the terrain was flat the whole way around. Not even a foot’s difference between one side of the house from the other. It was nothing like the craggy hills that surrounded the compound and had prevented him from making it to safety when he’d escaped. Still, he saw the value in keeping up his stamina. Just in case.

Or, he’d seen the value before this morning anyway. But now Philip had a daughter. Mary had her next heir. Henry couldn’t help but feel like he was fifty-percent of the way to being dead, all because this little girl had been born. And what if Martha fell pregnant again right away? What if, in less than a year, Mary would have her next heir and spare, and then she wouldn’t need Henry as her backup anymore?

The more he walked, the more Henry’s hands started to shake. He didn’t want to die. Even if he’d lost everything else by the time he got out of here, he just didn’t want to. Maybe if this had happened before he’d met Alex he would’ve given in. But his time with Alex had made him so much stronger. So much more willing to fight for what he wanted. And what he wanted was to get the f*ck out of here alive.

By noon, the last of the clouds had burned off, but moisture still hung in the air, making everything muggy and uncomfortable. Curtis brought in Henry’s lunch without a word and then went back to the bunker. Lunch, like breakfast, was the same as usual: a ham and cheese sandwich with tomato slices, plus a side of plain crisps. He didn’t get a drink with lunch, just water from the tap in the single, small plastic cup he was allowed.

Lately, Henry had been wondering why things weren’t the other way around. Why wasn’t he kept in the bunker while the guards lived in the house? It seemed the more logical way to do things, from the perspective of keeping him contained. The only answer he’d been able to come up with was that it probably just didn’t occur to Mary—no matter how much she hated him—that a prince should be in a bunker while her “servants” lived in the house. In her mind, he’d still outrank his guards, even if they were the ones holding him.

Mostly, his confinement made him empathize quite a bit with all of his ancestors that had been imprisoned over the years due to the machinations of their family members. How different might his life have been if Mary Queen of Scots had never been forced off her throne? What might have happened if the princes in the tower had lived? And how had they all truly felt about what their families were doing to them?

Even after he finished lunch, Henry’s hands were still shaking somewhat. The heat trapped in the house wasn’t helping, so he retreated outside once again, this time to sit in the shade of the wall. At least out here the breeze—when it came—could blow some of the heat away. He picked a spot by the secondary well and flopped into the dirt, enjoying the cool dampness of it on his back through his shirt.

What was Elizabeth like? Obviously she was just a baby, barely more than a month old, but was she fussy? Quiet? Had she learned to smile yet? Henry hadn’t thought much about Philip having kids before all of this had happened, but he had thought about it a little. He’d hoped, back then, he’d get to be a part of their lives enough to be a bit of a balancing influence to all the royal nonsense. A person they could come to in confidence if it ever got to be too much. He could see now, though, that Mary never would’ve let that happen. It might’ve even been part of why Mary had removed him from the equation before any kids were ever born, even if she’d never said as much.

A passing cloud spit out a little more rain on Henry as it went over, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. A thought started to tickle in the back of his mind. It had been a very wet spring so far, and a decently wet winter. Maybe…maybe it was time to finally try a fire. It didn’t seem like there would be nearly as much risk of it spreading now. Except he still didn’t have a way to light one. He thought about the little magnifying glass, reburied just a few feet away. It had been kind of scratched and foggy, though. Just a toy, a very old toy. Barely two inches across. He rather doubted he could get a fire going with it fast enough to matter.

There were the outlets in the house. Would sticking paper directly in an outlet start a fire? Or would it just trip the circuit? Most of the outlets didn’t work anyway; in a fit of boredom one day he’d taken the lamp from his room and plugged it into each outlet around the house to test them.

But the outlets were the only idea he had other than the magnifying glass, so he kept going along that thread. As usual, his plan would have to be quick, so he’d need to start the fire somewhere that would provide a lot of quick fuel. There were no curtains in the house, so that was out. The only readily available source of fuel aside from the house itself were the books in his room. He’d be willing to sacrifice them if it got him out.

The fire would have to be lit during the day, preferably when it was sunny so the smoke column could be seen, which meant he was running out of time. It was now, or wait until tomorrow, and who knew what the weather would be like then. If it clouded over again, his plan wouldn’t work.

Pulling himself up, he headed back inside and up to his room. It was rare that he went there during the day, but not rare enough for him to worry about the guards taking notice immediately. Once in his room he pulled the Sherlock Holmes collection off the shelf and tucked it in the back of his pants, then selected another book at random. The tearing of the page he pulled out seemed earth-shatteringly loud in the quiet room. Henry rolled it up, then went and knelt next to his bedside table. The old outlet was loose, barely holding onto the plug for the lamp at all. With the plug pulled out halfway, Henry laid the roll of paper across both prongs and held his breath, unsure if this was going to work. At first, nothing happened, but then a little curl of smoke wafted out of the end of the roll.

“Come on, come on,” Henry urged, voice cracking from disuse.

All at once the end of the tube burst into flames, making Henry jump and almost drop it. Using his other hand, he shielded the flame as it nibbled at his paper tube and raced back to the bookshelf on the other end of the room. Once there, he pulled out another book and held the fire under it. It caught instantly and he shoved it back onto the shelf, grabbing another from a different spot and doing the same. The whole shelf began to glow and crackle, the fire taking to the dry paper and wood instantly, choking black smoke rolling out along the ceiling.

Henry made it to his bedroom door at the same time as Curtis, who roughly grabbed him and dragged him out, slamming him so hard into the opposite wall it made Henry see stars. There was a lot of shouting, and a strange hissing sound. When Henry’s vision finally swam back into place, he was able to see through the door into his room, and see the white foam that coated everything. The fire was gone. Snuffed out by an extinguisher in Martin’s hand. Isaac wasn’t there from what Henry could see.

“Little f*cking rat,” Curtis seethed, one hand still wrapped tightly around Henry’s bicep.

“f*ck you,” Henry coughed.

Curtis growled, dragging Henry towards the stairs and then down them. He pulled Henry into the livingroom, digging into his pocket as they went. In one quick motion he’d pulled out a set of cuffs and snapped one cuff around Henry’s left wrist, then snapped the other end around the broken radiator in the livingroom. He left Henry there, stomping back up the stairs and into Henry’s room.

Unable to do anything else, Henry slid to the floor and tried to catch his breath. He’d been around the smoke just long enough for his throat to start to itch and his eyes to water no matter how much he blinked. He could hear Curtis and Martin talking upstairs, but couldn’t make out anything they were saying. When they eventually came back downstairs, neither spared him a glance before leaving the house. A little trill of fear inched down Henry’s spine. They’d come back, right? They weren’t going to just leave him here, chained to the radiator, were they?

It turned out they were. For two days.

By the end of the first day, Henry started trying to slip the cuff. It was too tight, though, and got caught against the base of his thumb no matter how hard he pulled. There was no getting it off the radiator either. As broken as it was, the metal was still plenty solid. An attempt to wrench the cuff open by snagging it on a bit of decorative detailing on the radiator and then yanking only made his wrist bleed as the cuff dug in.

By the end of the second day, Henry’s brain had gone fuzzy with dehydration. He just laid on the floor waiting. When he’d pictured Mary finally giving the order for him to be killed, he’d always figured one of the guards would just come shoot him. That it would be quick. Not this. He gave another lethargic tug on the cuff, but couldn’t muster up anything more than that.

When Curtis came back in, Henry wasn’t sure if he was real. But Curtis undid the cuff and hauled him up, shoving a bottle of water towards his lips. Henry grabbed it from him and drank half before coming up for air.

Curtis watched him, crouched silently a foot way. “No more electricity in the house from here on out,” he said once Henry was done drinking.

Henry swallowed, but didn’t respond.

Curtis stared at him for another long, silent moment, before he reached behind himself and pulled a manila folder out from his waistband. He held it up between them, still silent. Henry waited, his eyes involuntarily darting between the folder and Curtis’s face.

“You know,” Curtis said. “I never expected this to go on quite as long as it has. Figured your brother would’ve had a whole gaggle of kids by now, and I’d get to go home. But I’m paid well enough not to mind giving up another year or two of my life until he gets it done, so go ahead and keep throwing these tantrums of yours. Gives me and the guys something to do other than play poker all damn day.”

Henry didn’t say anything.

“But what you did on Monday, that took it too damn far. I’m willing to deal with a lot of bullsh*t, but I’m not willing to deal with fire, are we clear?”

Henry still didn’t say anything, eyes still darting to the folder.

Curtis finally held it out to him, but Henry didn’t take it. “This one came three weeks ago,” Curtis said. “But when I saw what was in it, I decided not to give it to you. I don’t like you one bit, but even I thought what was in here was just cruel, so I held it back. But since you can’t seem to get it through your thick skull that you are stuck here, I’ve changed my mind.”

With that he dropped the folder on Henry’s lap, grabbed the half-empty water bottle, and left, the door slamming behind him. Henry’s whole body shook as he stared at the folder, terrified of what he was going to find inside. What could be so bad that Curtis would hold it back? Henry wished he was the kind of person who could just take the folder and bury it in the dirt outside without ever looking at what he contained. But he couldn’t. Not knowing was so much worse now that he’d been taunted with it.

Sucking in a deep breath he flipped open the folder and felt his heart drop out of his chest. It was a piece of newsprint, the headline on top reading, “Former First Son Alexander Claremont-Diaz Announces Surprise Engagement.”

There was a picture of Alex underneath, sitting on a park bench next to a gorgeous, smiling woman, both of them doting on a little baby who was smiling just as big as they were. The baby didn’t look more than six months old. Underneath the photo a short article gave the woman’s name as Eloisa, and the baby’s name as Ines. It said she was Alex’s daughter, and that he and Eloisa had been dating for over a year.

Henry was still too dehydrated to cry, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t choke on his sobs anyway. He’d known Alex would move on eventually. He’d wanted Alex to move on, wanted him to find happiness. Of course he had. But he had to admit, he’d never expected it to happen quite so quickly and thoroughly. He didn’t begrudge Alex any of it, he truly didn’t, but god this hurt.

Somehow, though, there was still more pain to be found, because at the bottom of the article was a stickynote with Mary’s distinctive, overly perfect cursive: “You have nothing to go back to.”

Chapter 18: Grief

Chapter Text

JULY 2026

ALEX

“Sugar, I love you to bits, but I am not giving you that recipe,” his mom said.

“Pleaaasseee,” Alex wheedled. “The crew will love it.”

“My darling boy, you are twenty-eight. You should not need your mother to help you make friends anymore.”

“Come on, please?” Alex begged. He knew she’d give in eventually. “I won’t give it to them, I just want to make it for them because they are already my friends.”

His mom sighed dramatically. “Fine. Fine. I will you send you the recipe for your grandmother’s shortribs.”

Alex grinned. “Thanks.”

“Love you, you little monster.”

“Love you too.”

It had only taken about a month of volunteering before Alex’s whole “only ten hours a week” declaration fell to the wayside. A year in and he was doing it nearly full-time now, on top of still being a full-time lawyer. The lawyer stuff was nearly as flexible as the volunteer work, which made them easy to weave together into a functional schedule that still gave him time to work on his ranch and hang out with friends—though all of his local friends were in the department as well anyway.

Besides, it wasn’t like the department actually got a ton of time sensitive calls. There was a fair amount of downtime that Alex frequently used to work on legal paperwork or emails. His colleagues at the lawfirm didn’t mind as long as he showed up for necessary meetings, which he always did, and he obviously never missed court. It all worked out pretty well, honestly.

Training to be a firefighter had made Alex realize just how much of himself he’d turned off over the last three years. He’d been getting by, but that was it. But now, as a firefighter, he felt like a functioning person again. Feeling his brain work through the problems put to him, feeling his thoughts flow and his instincts kick in the way they always had before when a puzzle of some sort was put in front of him, it felt almost like a drug. He’d missed this. Missed scenarios and solutions unwinding inside his head at the speed of light like they always had before.

The department had given him a lot of other things back too. A sprawling network of friends—bigger than he’d ever had, honestly—who would all come help him out at the drop of a hat. He probably would’ve never been able to tackle the sheer volume of stuff in the two large sheds on his property if Miguel, Nate, and Ripper hadn’t come over to help out for three weekends in a row. There was always someone he could call now, someone close.

Miguel, especially, had proven to be a great friend. Alex had dinner—or some other meal—at his house at least twice a week, if not more. Miguel’s wife Beth was Italian and a self-employed rodeo photographer, a job that made it very easy for her to spend all day on intricate recipes that made everyone’s mouths water.

There was also the anonymity of firefighting. His uniform just said “Diaz,” an intentional choice so that he’d be less likely to get recognized on calls. Besides, “Diaz” was a lot easier to call out over a radio, and to fit on the limited space his gear provided. With his full face mask on, no one would ever know it was him. On calls that didn’t require the whole set of gear, large wrap-around sunglasses were enough to do the trick. No one expected to see him, of all people, working as a firefighter in some little backwater Texas town, so they just didn’t see him. It was nice, knowing he was able to help people without it ending up on the news just because he’d been the one to do it.

June and his mom, as well as Nora, Pez, and Bea had all reacted about the same as his dad when he’d told them: slightly befuddled and possibly a little worried, but trying not to act like it so as not to squash the one really positive step forward he’d made since Henry’s de—. He couldn’t blame them. It had been a weird and unexpected step for sure. But he was so damn glad he’d done it, and they’d all come around pretty quickly when they saw the effect it had on him.

Henry still hung in the back of Alex’s mind constantly, but these days it felt less like a haunting and more like memories. A couple weeks earlier he’d even set up a little memorial in an old phone alcove in the kitchen. There was no need for a landline now, so the alcove was just an awkward little space that wasn’t good for a lot. But it was perfect for a framed photograph, a pillar candle, and a few little mementos. There weren’t many, given that all their stuff was still in storage in New York—Alex still hadn’t been able to bring himself to send for it, even after three years—but he’d printed out a few of Henry’s old e-mails at least, and a few other photos. He’d put a tiny vase with some wildflowers as well, and a small book of poetry. Putting it all together had made him cry, but he was glad he’d done it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever have been able to do it, though, if it weren’t for firefighting helping him put his life back together. So, yeah, it had been a good decision.

Grabbing his overnight bag from his truck, he headed across town for his shift at the station after a day of work at the lawfirm. There wasn’t much parking at the station, so Alex usually left his truck where it was and just walked. Besides, he had things to do on the way.

“Tío Alex!” Sadie called, jumping up and down excitedly in the school dismissal line. The elementary school was on a track system, so Sadie’s summer break hadn’t started yet.

Alex grinned, pulling Miguel’s ten-year-old daughter into a hug and kissing the top of her head. She was the first kid to ever call him Tío—something she’d started doing about two months after they met when he’d taught her how to beat her dad at pool—and it always brightened his day. Alex had offered to pick her up from school for the week, along with her six-year-old brother, and walk them to the fire station. Beth was out of town for a business trip and Miguel was now one of the three paid staff at the station—heading up the wildland division—so his schedule was a little more regulated than everyone else’s, and he couldn’t always sneak away as easily. Alex was more than happy to help out.

“Can we get ice cream?” Sadie asked once they’d also picked up her brother, Miguel Jr..

“Sure.” Beth always teased Alex for spoiling the kids. Alex said it was his right as their uncle to spoil them as much as he wanted.

There was a little ice cream stand at the grocery store, and soon they all had dripping treats in their hands as they walked the last couple blocks to the station.

“Ice cream again?” Miguel said with a laugh when they walked inside.

“I’m sticky!” Miguel Jr. declared, sticking and unsticking his cajeta covered fingers to prove his point.

Miguel got halfway through another laugh before a series of beeps and codes sounded over the loudspeaker, interrupting them with a callout. Apparently a crew had just gone out for a vehicle wreck about ten miles out of town, and when they’d gotten there they’d found that the wreak started a small grassfire. They were requesting backup to handle the fire while they handled the wreck.

“We’re up,” Miguel declared. “Sadie, wash your brother’s hands please!”

Alex and Miguel both dashed out into the engine bays, climbing into the shiny new water tender Alex had helped fund. The money had come through quickly, but it had taken longer to actually get the truck so they were still breaking it in. Ripper and a few others came with them, and within two minutes they were headed out of town.

“Engine 2, this is Tender 1, could we get a size on that grassfire?” Alex called out over the radio as Miguel drove.

“’Bout fifty yards by thirtyish,” was the reply.

“No wind at the moment,” Ripper said from the backseat. “None expected until this evening.”

“What are the flame lengths and rate of spread?” Alex asked over the radio.

“One to two foot flame lengths, and it’s just creeping at the moment.”

“Structures threatened?” Alex said.

“None at the moment, but it is headed in the direction of the Calisto’s place. Maybe a quarter mile off from there.”

“And it’s well away from y’all?” Alex said.

“Yeah, the car that caused it rolled through the grass but ended up back on the road. We’re secure and handling it.”

“Good. ETA five minutes. Update us if conditions change.” Alex hung the radio handset back up.

“I’m so proud,” Miguel said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “My little probie is all grown up.”

“You say ‘probie’ like y’all didn’t practically abduct me from the bar and then never let me leave,” Alex quipped back.

“Gotta find new recruits somehow,” Miguel said.

They rolled up on the scene a couple minutes later and found it exactly as described. The other crew was mid extraction, the jaws-of-life going to work on the top of what had once been a blue sedan but was now nothing but crumpled metal. Alex only spared one thought for the driver before he was out the door and getting to work. The car wasn’t his job, the grassfire was. Miguel swapped out with Ripper, instructing her on how he wanted to hopefully surround and cut off the fire. She was to go wet down the grass a safe distance ahead, then circle back into the black to wet down hotspots where the fire had already gone out. Meanwhile, Miguel, Alex, and the others grabbed handtools and started cutting line right on the edge of the fire to herd it where they wanted it to go. Miguel bullied Alex into taking a pulaski and leading the line, calling it a “good little training fire.”

Alex didn’t like wildfire work quite as much as the work that dealt more directly with people, but he’d still gotten certified in it because, as far as he was concerned, the more he knew the better. This was his third wildfire, and the biggest, and he couldn’t help but be a little nervous. Grass fires had a habit of seeming simple and easy to handle, but that was frequently what made them more dangerous. They made people complacent, and that got people killed. A lot of firefighters had died in seemingly simple grass fires. Miguel was at his back, though, and they had two clear escape routes—either back to the road or into the black where the fire had burned itself out. Plus, like Ripper had said, the wind was currently minimal and unlikely to change soon.

Hefting the pulaski up, Alex swung the hoe side down into the dirt to break up the topsoil and yank it back to create the start of a line of bare earth that would starve out the fire. Miguel and everyone else followed behind at ten foot intervals, scraping the line deeper and wider with their own tools. They set a good pace and before Alex even knew it, they’d completely cut off the fire. It was still burning a bit, but it was contained. Ripper continued to trundle around in the truck, spraying everything down. Within a few hours, they had it mopped up completely, no trace of smoke or flame to be found. Still, fires could easily hide in roots, so the station sent out a couple fresh guys in the station’s support truck to monitor the area overnight while Alex and the rest of the team headed back in.

Miguel’s shift was done for the day, so once they were inside he told everyone goodbye while Alex headed to get dinner started for everyone, since he was on meal duty. Travis, another of the volunteers, owned a cattle ranch and was always stocking the fridge with fresh ribs and hamburger and steaks. It didn’t take Alex long to find everything he needed to make the short rib recipe his mother had given him.

“You should build us an actual outdoor kitchen,” Eloisa called out when she saw him struggling to balance the ribs along with all the spices and sauces and cooking implements on his way to the grill. She was sitting at one of the three picnic tables next to the BBQ, her college textbooks spread out around her. Ines was playing in the grass at her feet, on a kiddie leash because she had taken to walking with a gusto that could out-pace nearly everyone.

Eloisa did not, technically, volunteer with the department. But she found a lot of comfort being there, even with her husband gone, so she was always around and happy to pitch in if they needed a hand with something. Alex had gotten to know her pretty well because of that. She worked at a local horse retirement ranch and therapy center while taking an online degree in child psychology. She’d married her husband, Ian, when they were both eighteen and not even out of High School yet. Three years later he’d been driving home from visiting a friend when his car was t-boned and he was killed instantly. Ripper, Felipe, and Lauren had responded to the scene without knowing it was one of their own. All three had never spoken of that night once, at least not to anyone else in the department.

“Honestly, I can’t believe we don’t have an outdoor kitchen already,” Alex said, dumping everything on another table. “We cook half our food out here anyway.”

“Exactly. So make us one. Victoria will go for it, trust me.”

“Draw me up a design,” Alex told her as he peeled open each rack of ribs and started to season them.

Eloisa snapped her textbook shut and dug around in her backpack until she found a different notebook, flipping it open and starting to sketch.

“So, how have you been?” Eloisa asked as she sketched and he started the grill. “Haven’t seen you in, like, a week.”

Alex sighed. It had been a long week honestly. “I went on a date.”

Eloisa paused in her sketching, and he could see her watching him out of the corner of his eye. A big part of the reason they’d gotten so close over the last year was that they both knew what it was like to lose the person you loved most in the world in a sudden, traumatic way. Eloisa now knew more than anyone else in the world about how Henry’s de— had effected Alex. How much it had twisted him up and shattered him. And he knew the same about her and Ian.

“With?” she said eventually.

“A guy named Scott. He’s another lawyer from Austin. We’ve worked together on a handful of cases, and he asked me out for drinks so. Yeah.” Alex slowly worked through seasoning the ribs.

“Well do you like him?” Eloisa pressed gently.

Alex laid the ribs onto the grill side by side, nudging them into place with the spatula. “He’s…smart. Loves Star Wars. Grew up in Dallas. Stupidly pretty, honestly.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Alex closed the top of the grill and came to sit across from Eloisa, chewing his lip as he did. “I can’t figure it out,” he said. “I don’t…not like him.”

“But?”

“But I just…I kept thinking about Henry during the whole damn date.” Alex dropped his head into his hands, running his fingers through his hair. “Would Henry have laughed at the dumb joke I just made? Would Henry tease me for getting up and line dancing? And it wasn’t just what he’d think, but what he would’ve been doing. We always sat on the same damn side of the table when we went out, because we liked being closer. And sometimes he’d hook our ankles together or rest his hand on my thigh, and we were always stealing food off of one another’s plates or sips of one another’s drinks. All of that just kept playing on a loop the whole time, which is a sh*tty, rude thing to do when you’re on a date with someone else.”

“Hey,” Eloisa said, interrupting Alex before he could keep tumbling down that rabbit hole. She reached out and gently pulled his hands away from his head, setting them on the table and squeezing them gently with her own. “It’s okay.”

Alex shook his head. “But it’s not fair to Scott, or to anyone else I might end up with.”

“I’m just going to be blunt here, because that’s what you and I usually are with one another: why did you say yes in the first place?”

She was right, they were usually pretty blunt with one another, but the question still caught him off guard. “What?”

“Why did you say yes to the date? The way I see it, there are three potential reasons. One, you got suckered by the social contract and just didn’t really know how to say no, which, fair. Happens to the best of us. Two, you did it because you actually legitimately like Scott and wanted to go on the date. Or, three,” her voice got a little softer, “you’re still not ready to move on but you’re trying to force yourself to anyway because you think you’re supposed to.”

Alex looked down at their still entwined hands, trying to figure it out and coming up short.

“It’s been over three years,” Alex whispered eventually.

“So what?” Eloisa said. “Grief doesn’t care about time. If you’re not ready you’re not ready. Besides,” she sighed. “The way you lost Henry…I can’t even imagine that.”

Alex lifted his head and stared at her in confusion.

“I buried Ian,” she said. “I saw his body and kissed him goodbye. I have a grave I go to every week. I have his daughter and she has his laugh and his smile and his love of birds and who knows what else. Even with all of that, my grief still feels all consuming a lot of the time. But you didn’t get any of that. You didn’t even get a real funeral.”

Alex swallowed heavily, looking back down at their hands. He wondered how different things would be right now if Henry had di— the way Ian had. Would that have made it easier? Alex realized it probably would have. It still would’ve been sudden and cruel and the worst pain of his life. But at least it would’ve been tangible. Real. Instead he’d just been left with this gaping, bleeding chasm that had still barely started to close.

“He’d want me to be happy,” Alex mumbled, unable to let it go. Maybe he’d liked Scott more than he realized, or maybe he was just tired of feeling like this.

“Who says that has to mean having a significant other?” Eloisa replied. “You’re already doing so much better, Alex. Even I can see that and I didn’t know you before it happened. You’re not isolating yourself anymore. You’re not cutting off the people who love you. You’ve got two new jobs you love. A bunch of new friends and family, including me and Ines. A house you love and have put so much work into already. The sweetest little dog to ever exist. A cat that I’m pretty sure would face off with a coyote for you, and win. You’re not alone without a significant other. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

Somehow, something about the way she said it clicked in Alex’s head the way nothing else had. She was right. He wasn’t alone, not anymore anyway. And he was pretty happy these days, even if the nights in his big empty bed were still hard a lot of the time. Maybe he did need to just back off any attempts at having a relationship again for now. If it happened, it happened, but all his attempts so far had ended badly, so why keep beating his head against the wall about it?

“Freddie would not win against a coyote,” Alex said to break the tension after a long minute of contemplation.

Eloisa rolled her eyes and threw one of her highlighters at his head. He laughed, barely managing to dodge it.

“He would totally win against a coyote,” Eloisa said. “He weighs more than half the mangy chupacabra wannabes around here. A single bodycheck and they’d be running for the hills, tail between their legs.”

Alex laughed again, getting up to go check on the ribs.

That night, as he curled up in his bunk at the station, waiting for any potential calls, he finished up his latest Henry book. This one was nonfiction, focusing on how social media algorithms had flattened culture. Even though he didn’t use social media anymore, he still found it fascinating, and he knew Henry would’ve as well. Thinking of the discussions they could’ve had over it made his heart ache. Social media had done so much good, and so much harm, for both of them. There was no one else in the world that would understand the nuances of Alex’s thoughts on the book the way Henry would have.

Henry, the man I still can’t figure out how to grieve,

I put up a picture of you in the house a couple weeks ago. It was, I’m sorry to say, the first time I’ve really looked at a picture of you since what happened. Three years. It took me three years to be able to see you again. It was so much easier to just hold you in my mind, safe and alive and unchanging. The longer I went without looking, the harder it was to look at all, because I didn’t know what I was going to see. Had my mind changed what you looked like? It hadn’t, it turned out, which was torture in its own way. You’ll always look like that picture. You’ll never change your hair, or get laugh lines around your eyes. You’ll just be 25, sitting in the sun at the lakehouse, smiling up at me as I take your picture.

Alex went on to talk about the book and how, when he’d taken that picture originally, he’d posted it to Instagram and it had gotten over a million likes in only a few hours. Back then, he’d laughed at the inappropriate comments that had snuck through the filters. They were just dumb, faceless words that didn’t matter. But looking back now, it kind of made him cringe. He and Henry had put so much of themselves online and into the public eye without thinking twice about it. What had even been the point? At the end of the day all it had done had given people a weird, voyeuristic sense of ownership over the two of them and their relationship. He dreaded thinking about what the internet’s response had been to Henry’s de—, and to his own grief. He was glad he’d never seen any of that, and it was all the more reason to just never get back on social media again. Things were better without it in this quiet little town where people barely knew his name and when they learned it they didn’t care.

He ended the letter with a quote, as usual, then tucked the book away in his bag and turned off the light to get some sleep.

“I’ve been trying to bring back your face — to remember just how you look. Funny how even the dearest face will fade away in time. Most clearly I remember your eyes, with a kind of teasing smile in them, and the feeling of that soft spot just north-east of the corner of your mouth against my lips.” -Lorena Hickok to Eleanor Roosevelt

Chapter 19: Death

Chapter Text

SEPTEMBER 2026

HENRY

Henry rarely left his room these days. Ever since the fire, he just couldn’t be bothered. That had been his one last idea for how to get out, and it had failed. There was nothing else. Even if he made it beyond the wall, there was nowhere else to go. Maybe there was help closer than Curtis had told him the one time he’d actually escaped, but it wasn’t like he had a way to find it.

It was over.

Henry was never getting out. Philip had his heir and would probably have his spare any time now. Alex was surely married by now, which was fine. Henry knew he’d be happy for Alex if he wasn’t so hollowed out that he couldn’t feel anything at all. Bea was dating as well, according to some recent newspaper clippings, and she seemed happy from what little Henry could glean. The world had moved on, exactly like Mary had said it would. Henry had been a dead man for three-and-a-half years. All that was left now was to make it official.

He wasn’t interested in doing it himself. If Mary wanted him dead she was going to have give the order and have that blood on her own hands. Henry knew she wouldn’t care, and he no longer believed in some higher power that would one day punish her for her sins, but still. Maybe, someday, someone would be able to discover the truth and at least the world would know what she’d done.

Across from his bed, the wall was still heavily charred from the fire. He’d pulled the bookshelf and ruined books out and deposited them in the yard—where they still lay nearly a year later—but beyond that there was nothing he could do about the damage he’d caused. He didn’t know if the guards had ever told Mary about the incident. If they had, she hadn’t cared enough to confront Henry about it. It wasn’t like she could punish him more than he’d already been punished anyway. The house didn’t even have electricity anymore. What else was there to take? His Sherlock Holmes collection with Alex’s picture inside, the only book that hadn’t burned because he’d intentionally saved it? That was falling to pieces anyway, from how many times Henry had read it.

Henry never even saw his guards anymore with how little he left his room. He’d lost a lot of weight from how many meals he skipped. There’d been a few times where he’d finally mustered up the willingness to go downstairs and eat, only to find mice chewing on a cold plate of food that had been left out for him. When that happened he just turned around and went back upstairs.

The manila folders built up on the table, usually ignored. Sometimes they’d all vanish only for a new stack to start building up. Most of the articles these days were about Elizabeth. Henry found it rather distasteful how much she was in the press. She’d only just turned one but already she was just another prop for Mary, and Philip and Martha were clearly not doing anything to stop it.

When a door downstairs opened, Henry shot straight up in bed. It wasn’t time for lunch, so who the hell was coming in and why? His heart started to race as the person walked to the back staircase and started coming up. Was this it? Was he about to die? He wanted to run but there was nowhere to go and no time. Whoever it was was already outside his room, turning the handle and pulling the door open.

Curtis stepped in, two pieces of paper in his hand. He came and dropped them on Henry’s lap without seeming to care about the fear that had to be plainly displayed across Henry’s face.

“My condolences,” Curtis said, turning around and leaving without another word.

Henry held his breath until he heard Curtis leave the house, the air he’d been holding in rushing out in a loud gasp the second the back door closed. He sucked in another lungful of air, struggling to hold onto it long enough to matter. He’d been so sure he was about to die.

When he finally caught his breath again, he looked down at the papers in his lap. There were indeed only two of them, just regular sheets of white printer paper folded in half to hide whatever was on them. Hands shaking, he reached down and opened them. The top sheet was a printout of a news article.

His mother was dead.

Princess Catherine, heir to the throne, had passed away on September 18th due to complications from a longterm illness. The article did not say what that illness was.

Henry wanted to feel something, anything, at the news. But the emotions just wouldn’t come. She’d been having health problems even before all of this had happened, so in a way it wasn’t a shock. But Henry still thought he should feel something. She was his mother. And she was dead. Maybe she hadn’t always been the best mother out there, especially after his dad died, but she’d been trying to fix that before Mary abducted him.

Had being here really broken him so much that he couldn’t feel anything about his own mother’s death? That was a terrifying thought in its own right, because the implications were vast. Was he just completely broken now? Incapable of ever feeling anything again, even for the people he loved? He didn’t want to be broken. Even though he’d given up on it happening, he still wanted to get out of here someday, but if he did, what would happen if he really was completely broken? How was he supposed to fit all his shattered pieces back into something resembling a life?

All he had left out there now was Bea, and Pez, and both of them were likely still friends with Alex. But Henry knew he could never see Alex again, or probably even speak of him. It would hurt too much. So what was he supposed to do? Ban Bea and Pez from ever bringing Alex up? Go live in isolation out in the woods so he’d never risk accidentally seeing some story about Alex on the news? The irony almost made him laugh. He’d never actually get out of here, would he? Even if he did escape, there was nothing and no one for him to go back to. He’d just go from one isolated existence to another.

Swinging his feet to the floor, he put his head in his hands. His mother was dead.

He wondered how Mary felt about it. Catherine had been her daughter, but that probably didn’t mean anything to Mary in and of itself. She probably cared more about the fact that she’d lost an heir. Or maybe she didn’t see it that way. Maybe she saw it as a good thing so the throne could go right to Philip, the child she’d molded right from the start after deciding her own daughter was a rebellious failure. Philip was completely under Mary’s control in a way their mother had never been. And now he had an heir of his own, an heir Mary was already using to get what she wanted from the press and the world at large. That poor little girl.

Henry sat up, only then noticing that both pieces of paper had fallen to the floor when he’d swung his legs off the bed. He’d completely forgotten about the second one. Reaching down, he picked it up, finding that it was a printed scan of a handwritten letter. The handwriting was his grandmother’s.

The letter was short, but biting. She told him it was his fault his mother’s declining health had finally caught up to her; that if Henry had just behaved and been a dutiful heir his mother wouldn’t have had to suffer his death. But, like Henry had suspected, she also declared it for the best and reminded him that Philip already had one daughter and that meant Henry’s time was limited.

None of the contents of the letter surprised Henry. What did surprise him, and deeply unsettled him, was that the letter wasn’t perfect. There were places where the writing was shaky, others where it varied in size or spacing, and there were several glaring spelling and grammatical errors. Henry didn’t think for a second that grief was responsible. No, the letter seemed much more like it had been written by someone who might not quite be all there.

Mary had been showing signs of dementia for quite awhile, even before Henry and Alex had gotten together, though the palace had always kept it well hidden. As far as Henry had been aware, the dementia hadn’t been too bad. She wasn’t great with names anymore, as his mother had pointed out all those years ago after the email leak, and there was a slight tremor in her hands if she was tired. But that was all manageable enough with all the assistants that surrounded her at all times.

This letter, though, felt like that but worse. Her handwriting hadn’t been like that on the stickynote attached to Alex’s engagement announcement a year earlier. Could she have gone downhill that quickly? Henry didn’t know enough about dementia to even guess. All his other grandparents had died when he was too young to notice one way or another what was going on with them, or before he’d even been born.

But if Mary’s dementia had gotten worse, had gotten bad enough to be so noticeable in such a short letter…what did that mean for him? What if she just forgot he was here one day? What would the guards do?

Or…what if she forgot it was supposed to be a secret? What if she finally let it slip to someone what she’d done, and that he was still alive? Someone who might be willing and able to actually do something about it?

A tiny, infinitesimal kernel of hope started to dig its way out of his chest. There were still no guarantees. Still nothing solid to hang onto. But maybe, just maybe, Mary’s potential madness could be the thing that got him out. Even if there was nothing left for him out in the world, at least he might not die in here, where no one would ever know.

Chapter 20: Wedding

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 2027

ALEX

June was a whirlwind of motion as she dashed from one side of the bridal suite to the other. Trying to grab her felt a lot like trying to wrangle a tornado, but Alex finally got an arm around her waist and pulled her off into a little side room.

“June, bug, you gotta stop and breathe for a second,” he ordered.

“No, I have to check on— on— things! I have to check on things!” She said trying to wiggle past him and smacking his arm when he held it up to bar her from leaving.

“‘Things’ are fine. They have been fine the whole time. All your bridesmaids are dressed to the nines, all the guests are here and getting seated, Nora is ready and waiting, and you look perfect.” She looked radiant, honestly. Her dress was a gorgeous, custom made piece in a stunning green jeweltone and dripping with beads and sequins that glimmered as she moved. Her hair had been twisted up into an intricate braid and sprinkled with little white flowers that matched her bouquet.

“But what about—”

Alex cut her off. “It’s good, June, it’s all good. I promise. Your day is going to be perfect. Just take a minute back here in the quiet to breathe.”

She sighed, finally deflating a little. “Okay, okay, fine.”

Alex smiled. “There you go.” He reached into the inner chest pocket of his suit and pulled out the little photo he’d hidden in there. It was a polaroid from when they were kids and June had decided she wanted to host a mock wedding with her friends. She’d made Alex be the priest and the photo was of them at the alter, little Alex looking somewhat confused but happy to be included with his big sister and her friends. June had made him a little paper priest’s collar while she herself was in her blue Cinderella dress from the previous Halloween. Alex couldn’t remember who the groom had been but it didn’t really matter.

“Oh my god, where did you get this?” June said, laughing and reaching out to take the photo.

“I went to visit mom a couple weeks ago and dug around in our memory boxes until I found it,” Alex told her. “As far as I’m concerned, it counts as your something blue.”

He reached out and gently took the photo back, tucking it into the pocket of June’s dress so she’d have it with her. She’d specifically had that pocket included to carry important mementos in. There was a small stone made from the cremated ashes of their dad’s father, who had passed away six months earlier, a tiny ceramic horse June had had since she was two, and a ring that belonged to Pez. There had been a lot of discussion about who would legally marry who in their three person relationship, but in the end it had been decided Nora and June were the best option for a variety of legal reasons. It was just on paper, though. They were having a smaller, more private ceremony to symbolically marry Pez too, but that one was planned for early next year.

June sniffed, tilting her head back with a small laugh to try and prevent tears from falling. “You’re gonna make me cry you asshole.”

Alex grinned. “Sorry.”

June pulled him into a bone crushing hug that he returned more carefully so as not to damage her dress. After a quick kiss to the top of her head and a few more reassurances, he left to take his place as her best man. Their dad passed him on the way, grinning like crazy the whole time, clearly elated to be at his daughter’s wedding.

The ceremony—officiated by Pez—was as beautiful as Alex had always imagined June’s wedding would be. She’d picked Albany, New York in autumn for the time and location, wanting to get married outside under the changing leaves in a place with (slightly) more predictable weather than Colorado. The way her green dress—and Nora’s deep purple suit—meshed with the firey leaves looked like something out of a fairytale, and they’d timed it so their kiss would happen at sunset. The clouds captured the last rays of sunlight just right, painting everything in gold. The pictures were going to be something else.

For the reception everyone moved to a large tent hung with twinkling lights, Nora and June swaying quietly on the dance floor to the same song that had played on their first official date. Alex made a loving, teasing speech about how much he loved both of them, and how elated he was that they’d gotten together and made one another so happy. He danced with both of them, and with Bea (who had been one of June’s bridesmaids), before sliding off into one of the darker corners to have a little break.

It was all glittering and wonderful and full of laughter and love. But a part of him had still been struggling not to cry all day. He was so stupidly happy for his sister and for Nora. But, god, he wanted it to be him. He wanted it to be him and Henry up there on that alter, promising the rest of their lives to one another. They should’ve had that chance, but it had been stolen from them by a stupid mechanical malfunction on Henry’s plane.

Ever since his conversation with Eloisa about figuring out if he actually wanted to try being in a relationship again or not, Alex had given up on dating. It had felt so freeing to finally admit that it just wasn’t working. Like another step in the right direction. But tonight he just felt lonely. Achingly lonely.

“Mind if I join you?” Luna asked, sidling up to the table Alex was sitting at alone.

“Raf,” Alex grinned. “Long time no see. Sit your ass down.” It really had been too long. They hadn’t seen one another since before Henry’s dea—.

He did, pulling out a chair across from Alex.

“Where’d you lose your husband?” Alex asked.

“Your dad stole him. They were talking about going skydiving. I’ve chosen to pretend I didn’t hear them. It’s better for my blood pressure.”

Alex laughed.

“So, how have you been?” Luna asked. “Your dad told me you’re a damn firefighter now?”

Alex gave a little shrug. “I kind of fell into it. Still a lawyer, on smaller immigration and discrimination stuff these days, but yeah.”

“Can’t say I would’ve seen that coming from you. The firefighting, I mean.”

“Hell, I didn’t see it coming either,” Alex replied. “But I love it.”

“Yeah?”

Alex nodded. “It’s…a good way to be a part of the community. And it helped pull me back out of my head after…everything, you know?”

Luna nodded back. “That’s fair. Sometimes you just need something totally new. So what do you do, exactly? Don’t you live pretty rural?”

“Decently, yeah. The department’s small. Mostly traffic calls, medical assistance calls, that sort of thing. Handful of actual fires every year, plus an occasional little wildfire. Lots of community outreach, lots of training.”

“What sort?” Luna asked.

He seemed genuinely interested, not like he was just asking to be polite, so Alex started rattling off all the certifications he’d gotten in the last few years. There was a lot of structural related stuff, of course. Some various search and rescue certifications. A bunch of wildfire ones, and he’d just recently finished up his EMT training. He’d even been toying with the idea of going all the way through paramedic training, but that would be a lot more time intensive and he hadn’t decided if he really wanted to yet.

“Damn,” Luna said when Alex was done. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

Before they could continue, Luna’s husband appeared and swept him out onto the dance floor leaving Alex alone once more. The ache was right where it been before, made a little louder by watching Luna and his husband dance. If it had been anyone else’s wedding, Alex probably would’ve left. But, instead, he got up and snagged one of his cousins to dance with, trying to make sure the sadness didn’t show on his face.

After everything came to a close—perfect all the way through just like Alex knew it would be—Alex found himself staring down the door to his empty motel room and found he just couldn’t bring himself to go inside. He’d only had a couple beers and a glass of champagne all night, and the last one had been hours ago, so he climbed back in his rental car instead and just started driving. He wasn’t really trying to get anywhere, but he very suddenly realized he was on the highway heading straight for Canada. It felt like a magnetic pull in his gut.

“Hey Siri,” he said tentatively. “How far to Les Galets, Quebec?”

His phone pinged and Siri replied, “Les Galets, Quebec, Canada is approximately an eighteen hour drive from your location. The trip includes a short ferry ride. Would you like me to start the route?”

Alex hesitated. The idea of going to Canada, to the crash site, had been on his mind for awhile. He couldn’t pin down exactly when it had come to him, but lately he’d been thinking about it more and more.

No.

That wasn’t right.

He did know when the idea had started. It had been shortly after the same conversation in which Eloisa had told him not to worry so much about finding someone, because in that conversation she had said their grief was different since she’d been able to say goodbye to her husband in a way Alex never had for Henry. Because she had a grave to go to. Whatever grave existed for Henry in England would never bring Alex a moment of peace—if he could even get in to see it, which he rather doubted. But the crash site…well, maybe that would. It was the last place Henry had ever been. The closest Alex would ever get again.

“Yes,” Alex told Siri. “Start the route.”

Thanks to a well-ingrained habit of always having his passport on him, getting into Canada was easy. He did stop just after sunrise for a nap, then a big meal at a roadside diner, but it wasn’t long before he’d slipped out of society and into the wilderness. Before he lost signal he’d texted everyone an apology for ducking out early, saying they needed him back in Texas for a case. He’d left all his stuff at the hotel, so he’d called them as well to have it mailed home and stopped at a little thrift store to get new clothes and some other necessities.

Back home in Texas, he’d told everyone he was staying in New York for a couple extra days to visit with family. Nate, who’d been watching the two horses, seven chickens, and two goats Alex now owned—along with David and Freddie—said he was more than happy to keep watching them as long as Alex needed. Alex still wasn’t a big horse guy, but given the size of his property he’d needed a good way to access all of it. The terrain wasn’t super ATV friendly, so he’d caved and got the two horses about a year earlier. Besides, having horses reminded him of Henry, in a good way, so it was nice to have them around just for that.

By the time he reached Les Galets, it was well after dark. He only managed to find a hotel room after visiting the town welcome center to grab some maps, finding a list of local hotels handwritten on a piece of paper next to the door. In his hotel room he poured over the maps while chewing on some tasteless gas station pizza, trying to figure out what his next step was. The crash site was about two hours northwest of town, but not a single road came within twenty miles of it. The closest hiking trail he could find only got within fifteen.

Alex had been camping and backpacking plenty of times in his life, thanks to his dad, but he had no issues admitting that finding and getting to the crash site on his own was far above his skill level. No, he needed another way. Preferably a quicker way.

Pulling up Google instead, he searched for helicopter tours in the area. There weren’t any that he could find, but there was an airport just outside of town, and he resolved to go in the morning and find someone to take him, willing to pay whatever it took.

What it took was two-thousand dollars and a case of expensive whiskey. The man who was flying him out was named Claude and his French accent was so thick Alex could only catch about fifty-percent of what the man said. If Claude thought it was strange that this random American wanted to be flown out to a four-and-a-half year old crash site, he didn’t say. Or at least if he did say Alex didn’t catch it.

They climbed into the helicopter just after ten a.m. and headed out. Alex’s heart drummed louder and louder in his chest the closer they got and when they finally came over the last ridge blocking the view of the site his heart stuttered to a stop. The scar still carved through the trees, but plants had grown over the worst of it, replacing the black with green. Claude circled once, as Alex had requested, then set down in a clearing about a quarter mile away. Once the engines were shut off, Alex climbed out, telling Claude he’d be back in awhile.

When his feet hit the ground, a shudder ran through Alex’s body. He was here. He was really here.

Walking through the trees felt like dreaming. When he reached the scar, he came out right where the nose of the plane had dug into the ground. He’d finally read an overview of what had actually happened about six months earlier, so he knew the plane had gone into a sudden dive due to an issue with the hydraulics. The pilots had struggled to get it back under control, finally managing to pull up somewhat, but it had been too late. The tail clipped a ridge and sent the plane careening into the treetops, then slamming belly-first into the ground. The plane was going so fast it had dug into the dirt, shredding itself to pieces. The remaining fuel in the tanks had ignited anything that was left. Only a rainy summer had prevented the whole forest from going up.

Up close, there were still signs of the crash everywhere. Char marks on the trees. The deep gouge in the ground. Trees with their tops missing. Any remaining debris had been cleaned up, but it didn’t matter. What happened here was clear even without any pieces of the actual plane.

Alex’s breathing began to shudder and his eyes to water. He fell to his knees just outside the gouge in the ground, choking sobs wrenching their way out of his chest. It felt as excruciatingly raw as that first night, when he still didn’t believe any of it was real.

Henry was dead.

He had died right here, probably terrified and mostly alone.

“I’m sorry,” Alex gasped. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you stay home. I’m sorry I told you to go on that stupid apology tour and that we’d figure everything out after. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

When he finally managed to pull himself together enough to move, he stumbled out into the gouge itself and buried his hands into the plants that had grown there. He shoved his fingers into the dirt under them, pulling everything aside until there was nothing but bare earth. He hadn’t thought ahead quite enough to bring a nice container, but he did have a ziplock bag full of granola. He dumped it out, blew out the crumbs, then filled the bag with dirt. Making sure it was well sealed, he headed back to the helicopter.

Claude didn’t comment on how terrible Alex probably looked, just started up the engine and flew them back to Les Galets. In his hotel room Alex pulled out another ziplock bag and double-bagged the dirt, then curled up on the bed with it clutched to his chest.

Henry was dead. He was dead, and Alex was alone. Alex knew he’d never be okay with the first part, and he didn’t know that he’d ever be okay with the second part either, even now.

He didn’t make it home until Wednesday, and called off of work and volunteering for the rest of the week, claiming to have picked up the flu at the wedding. On Thursday there was a knock on his door, and he opened it to find Miguel on the other side.

“Figured your flu might be a little more grief shaped,” Miguel said by way of greeting. He spoke in Spanish, as he and Alex usually did when it was just the two of them.

Alex deflated, letting the doorframe take his weight as he rested his head against the cool wood there. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you want me to go away?” Miguel asked.

Alex thought about it for a long moment, then wordlessly stepped aside to let Miguel in. With the door closed, Alex went back to the couch where he’d been lying all day with Freddie and David. David was getting older these days, so there was a little ramp to help him get on and off the couch, but overall he was doing good. Alex didn’t know what he’d do what that wasn’t the case anymore. He had, at one point, gotten drunk enough to look into pet cloning companies.

“Are you expecting a squid faced pirate to come calling?” Miguel asked, sprawling out in the armchair next to the couch.

Alex’s face screwed up. “What?”

Miguel gestured at the coffee table. “You have a jar of dirt.”

“Oh.” Alex managed a small laugh. “No. It’s…it’s from the crash site.”

Miguel’s eyebrows rose up towards his hair. “…Henry’s crash site?”

Alex nodded.

“I thought you were at your sister’s wedding, dude?”

Alex sighed. “I was. And it was great. I legitimately had fun. But it still made me want to curl up into a ball and cry the whole time. So when it was over I decided to go on a drive to try and clear my head. And. Well. I was already so close to the Canadian border. So. sh*t happened.”

“That’s some heavy sh*t.”

“Mmmm.”

They lapsed into silence, both staring at the jar. It was just a simple mason jar. Nothing special. Nothing fancy.

“Did it help?” Miguel said at last. “Seeing it?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Alex said honestly. “I guess I just…I know I’m doing better now than I was even a year ago, and a lot better than I was two or three years ago. But it still feels like there’s this key piece I’m missing. Some part of this I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes you don’t get to understand,” Miguel said, voice gentle.

“I know, I know,” Alex said. He sat forward, putting his elbows on his knees and staring intently at the jar of dirt like it might hold all the answers. “But this isn’t ‘I don’t understand why this happened to us’ or ‘I don’t understand why life isn’t fair’ or something like that. It’s just…f*ck, I don’t know, Miguel. There’s just a damn piece missing. But I don’t even know what that piece is, I just know it isn’t there. I thought, maybe, seeing the crash site would be it. But now I don’t know if it was, because I feel exactly the f*cking same.”

Miguel got up and came to sit next to him, slinging an arm over Alex’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, man. I can’t imagine going through that. I wish I had better advice for you.”

Alex sighed, leaning into the hug a bit. “I think…maybe part of it is how little information I ever got. His sister, Bea, kept me updated on things from the royal end, the investigation, memorials, all of that. But she was so out of it herself—especially in the beginning—that she wasn’t getting much information either. It was like this wall slammed down and I was on the wrong side of it.”

“You didn’t talk to any of the rest of his family?” Miguel asked.

“I talked to his mom a lot, at least once a week, but it was more…talking at her.” Alex wasn’t sure now if those calls had helped or hurt either of them. “And she passed away last year, so.” He hadn’t talked to her at all for nearly a year before she’d passed away, and only a couple times in the year before that. After she’d passed, Bea had come and spent a couple weeks with Alex to get away from all the attention. Her boyfriend, still the archer, had stayed for part of the time as well. Alex liked the guy quite a bit. He seemed perfect for Bea.

“His brother?”

“Pff. I can’t count the number of times I’ve ever talked to Philip on one hand. No, I haven’t seen nor spoken to him since what happened. I did digitally hate stalk him and the queen for quite awhile after, though.”

Miguel’s eyebrows went back up.

“They just ignored it!” Alex said. “Neither one of them ever made more than a basic statement of grief. Didn’t memorialize him. Didn’t carry on any of his work. Nothing. Drove me up the damn wall. Still does, honestly. They’re his damn family. I don’t give a sh*t about royal protocols or whatever. They should’ve done more.” Alex was pretty sure he knew damn well why they hadn’t done more: it was easier for them with Henry gone. No more gay heir that the press adored. No more wayward, modern minded twenty-something making them look outdated and cruel.

“You memorialized him, though,” Miguel said. “With what you did with the brownstone. You called it ‘Henry’s House,’ right?”

He had. And it was still going strong. They’d actually bought the brownstone next door as well two years ago so they’d have more room. Alex wasn’t super involved with the project, but Pez always kept him up to date.

“Maybe it’d help to do something more?” Miguel continued. “Make up for how little they memorialized him by doing it yourself.”

Alex hummed, thinking it over. There was something to what Miguel was saying. Maybe he could do something else. All the donations he’d made with Henry’s money had been great, but they’d been one and done. Looking back, he did wish he’d been a bit more strategic about all of that, set up trusts or something that would’ve paid out dividends longterm. But he’d been so terrified of holding onto that money in any way, of the feeling it gave him that Henry was gone, that he’d just dumped it as quickly as possible.

“Maybe some kind of literacy project,” Alex thought out loud. “Queer books, maybe. Or scholarships for queer authors.”

“Do both, you’ve got the cash,” Miguel replied before slapping his knees and standing up. “But right now, you need to get out of your damn house and stop staring at that jar of dirt. Come on, we’re saddling your horses and going to work on that broken fence you’ve got on the north side of your property.”

Alex groaned playfully. “Don’t make me go do work.”

Miguel kicked at his feet. “You need work, get up.”

“Fine, fine.”

He was glad Miguel had come over to check on him. As alone has recent events had made him feel, Miguel proved it untrue. Just like Eloisa had said; he had friends, and he had family. That could be enough for now.

Chapter 21: Spite

Chapter Text

DECEMBER 2027

HENRY

There was a lot to be said for how motivating spite could be. Maybe Henry was going to die in this stupid little house in the middle of who knew where in Australia. Maybe Mary would get exactly what she wanted. But Henry wasn’t going to make it easy. He still didn’t know if she really had rapidly worsening dementia like he suspected, but it didn’t really matter. As long as the possibility was there, he was going to keep going.

He’d dug up the old time capsule again about a month ago and used the little magnifying glass inside to start another fire even though it had been stupidly dry for the last year. It had taken a long time for the sun through the toy glass to do anything, but it had been enough. This one managed to actually take hold somewhat, scorching a good portion of the kitchen before the guards got it out. It had earned him a few punches to the stomach from Curtis, which was interesting in and of itself. None of the guards had been violent with him before, not like that. He suspected they were just as fed up with how long this had gone on as he was.

When the second fire hadn’t worked—and the magnifying glass had been confiscated—Henry had started tearing the house apart. He’d pry up floorboards, then wiggle out a nail and use it to scratch messages into the walls. Every night the nails would be confiscated at gunpoint and the next day Henry would just pull out more. He buried notes scratched into boards all over the yard as well. Even tore pages out of the Sherlock Holmes book and used a nail to poke out different words, leaving behind somewhat garbled messages that he hid wherever he could.

Sometimes he thought about leaving the nails in one of the boards and trying to use it as a weapon against the guards. So what if he got shot at this point? He was holding off for now, at least, because he wanted to keep trying everything else for as long as he could.

Using a thick, sturdy board, he’d gone to the attic that morning and started beating on the roof until he was able to break through it. With another fifteen minutes of effort he’d managed to widen the hole enough for him to wiggle out onto the roof itself. The roof was steep, and normally heights did make Henry’s stomach do somersaults, but apparently he was beyond being able to feel that particular fear either.

The view from up here was, honestly, not that different from the one from the two little windows in the attic. He could finally see that the guards’ car was parked out behind the compound, though. Not right up against the wall, however. Probably to prevent Henry from jumping down onto it should he ever get over the wall again. There was also a small concrete box that Henry figured covered the stairs down into the bunker as it was right behind the door the guards always went through, but the top of that was covered in more razor wire and what looked like some sort of spikes.

Isaac, whose real name Henry still didn’t know, strode out of the entrance to the bunker several minutes after Henry had gotten onto the roof, glaring up at him. “Get your ass down, now.”

Henry ignored him, starting to wiggle shingles off one by one. He was intending to try and pull them off in such a way so that the roof read S.O.S. in giant letters. It wasn’t long before he heard Isaac stomping into the attic. His gun came out first, then Isaac’s head and shoulders. Henry rolled his eyes and kept working.

“Back inside,” Isaac ordered.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” Henry asked. It kind of hurt to talk, given how rare it was for him to do it anymore. He hardly recognized the sound of his own voice.

“Inside.”

“It’s been almost five years,” Henry continued, still pulling up shingles. “You can’t tell me you’ve enjoyed sitting in that bunker for five years with nothing to do but watching me walk around in circles.”

Isaac snorted. “We’ve got plenty to do down there, thanks. You’re the prisoner here, not us. This is a damn dream job. Getting paid a million pounds a year to sit on my ass reading all day? Glorious.”

Henry turned and arched an eyebrow at him. He didn’t sound very convincing. More like he was trying to convince himself.

“Is that really worth it?” Henry asked. “Wouldn’t you rather, I don’t know, be back home trying to find a girlfriend? Going out to the pub with your buddies on a Saturday night? Visiting family?”

Isaac’s mouth twitched. “I see my family, and go out with my buddies. Like I said, you’re the prisoner here, not us.”

“Uh huh,” Henry hummed. “Why’d she pick you, anyway? You and the other two?” Henry guessed it was probably because none of them actually had any families, or buddies. The look on Isaac’s face made Henry suspect he was right.

“Get down, god dammit,” Isaac snapped.

“Look, I’m not going to do that,” Henry told him. “So your options are to shoot me which, if the shot doesn’t kill me, will likely send me tumbling off this roof give how steep it is and then I’ll just die when I hit the ground. Or you can try to come out here and get me by force, which is likely to send both of us tumbling to our deaths. Or you could just leave me here.”

Isaac’s jaw worked side to side. “You’re a real f*cking brat, you know that? No wonder your grandmother wanted you locked up.”

Henry saw an opportunity and took it. “And how is the dear old queen? Been telling her all about what I’ve been up to, have you?”

“We send weekly reports,” Isaac replied a little too quickly.

Henry kept his face neutral. “Only weekly?”

“Unless you’re acting up.”

“I’m always acting up these days,” Henry pointed out.

Isaac let out a low growl of frustration.

“Does she even read the reports?” Henry asked. “It’s not like she’s all there anymore. I doubt she cares about going through the dozens of reports about me destroying things.”

“The queen reads what she needs to read,” Isaac snapped.

“Not going to deny that she’s not all there anymore, then?” Henry said.

This time when he growled Isaac bared his teeth slightly. “Fine, stay up here. Fall to your damn death yanking shingles off a roof. I don’t give a sh*t. I’m sick of babysitting you.”

With that he vanished back into the hole and stomped away. When he slammed the back door on his way out it made the whole house shake and Henry heard a pane of glass break somewhere. Isaac strode across the yard and into the bunker, slamming that door just as hard.

Henry went back to pulling off shingles, tossing them down into the yard as he worked.

That night he lay in bed, staring out at the stars through his window. He’d broken out the glass to get more of a breeze due to how unbearably hot it was and the fact the window was too jammed to open more than a couple inches. Breaking it hadn’t made much of a difference either. The door to the bathroom was open, and the window in there broken as well, but no breeze came from either direction. It was utterly miserable.

He wanted to go lie in the tub with the shower on, but the water pressure had been getting worse and worse over the last couple months. He suspected the well might be drying up given the complete lack of any rain for over a year. If the well went dry, Henry had no idea what might happen. Maybe they could switch to the other one somehow, but if one well went dry probably the other one would too. Henry didn’t actually know where the main well was—only the auxiliary one—but he doubted the sources they pulled from were different enough to matter.

Would the guards provide him water? He sort of doubted it. Maybe to drink, but likely nothing else. That’d leave him without a shower or a functioning toilet, neither of which were appealing possibilities. It was out of his control, though, so he tried not to think about it too much.

Groaning, he got out of the bed and stripped down to his boxers, plodding into the bathroom. Maybe he couldn’t turn the water on, but at least lying against the porcelain of the tub might feel somewhat cooler.

It did, for a little while anyway. Enough for him to steal a little sleep before the heat woke him up again. Breakfast was the usual, but there was no manila folder waiting for him. There hadn’t been for months.

Only half a glass of water made it out of the tap before it gurgled angrily and started spitting air. Henry hastily shut it off and stared at it. After a minute, he tried again and managed to get another few ounces. He shut it off once more, hoping the well would manage to refill enough to keep functioning if he just left it alone.

Once breakfast was done he headed back up to the roof, wanting to try and finish his S.O.S. before the day went from obnoxiously hot to dangerously. He was only at it for an hour before he spotted something off in the distance. Smoke. A thin trickle coming from somewhere over the horizon. As he watched it became thicker. Blacker. More solid. He was so entranced by it, he missed Curtis popping out of the hole in the roof and grabbing his arm, bodily yanking him back inside before Henry could do anything about it.

Curtis hauled Henry down the stairs and chucked him into his room, sending him sprawling across the floor as the door slammed. It all happened so fast it made Henry’s head spin. Curtis was gone as quick as he came, out the back door where he met Isaac and Martin outside the door to the bunker. With the glass out of his window, Henry could hear them perfectly.

“It’s twenty miles off,” Martin said. “And the wind’s blowing it away. I don’t think we’re in any danger of people coming through the area to deal with it.”

Oh.

Henry craned his neck to try and see the smoke from his window. It was barely visible off to the north.

“Get some damn paint or a tarp or something and cover up his stupid sign,” Curtis ordered. “Who knows what they might have flying over.”

He was right, Henry realized. This might be his best chance. He had to get out of this damn room. Maybe start another fire of his own. Something.

But there was nothing in here he could use. The electricity had never been turned back on. He didn’t have the magnifying glass. The shards of glass from the window had been cleaned up too. And the second he left the room, the guards would be on him. He could stick his arms out through the bars over his window, but the odds of anyone actually seeing that were abysmal.

There was nothing he could do.

It was a week before the guards let him out of his room. They brought food and extra water in with their guns drawn, but only twice a day. A few helicopters had flown over, but none had been incredibly low. Henry had waved out the window anyway, but clearly no one had noticed.

When he was finally let out he raced into the attic only to find that the hole he’d made had been covered up. Not caring, he’d pried up another board and bashed his way back out. When he looked to the horizon, there wasn’t a trace of smoke to be found. Once again, he hadn’t made it out.

Chapter 22: Unpacking

Chapter Text

JANUARY 2028

ALEX

Alex finally sent for all of his and Henry’s old things at the start of the new year. They arrived in a big box truck on a cool Tuesday afternoon, and were unloaded into his garage. Nora and June had both come down to help him go through all of it. Bea had found it too difficult, which Alex fully understood, and Pez was busy dealing with some emergency family stuff. So it was just Alex, Nora, and June. The White House Trio. He couldn’t actually remember the last time it had just been the three of them.

“How do you want to do this?” June asked as they sat on the steps that led from the garage into the house. Several dozen plastic storage tubs sat in front of them, along with a few larger boxes of artwork and a bunch of furniture wrapped in padded blankets. There were some things Alex had just had tossed out or sent to Goodwill. Couches, mattresses, random end tables and shelves. Things that had never been more than just furniture, mostly.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “How’d y’all pack it up when you did?”

“‘How’d y’all,’” Nora laughed, lovingly mocking his accent that managed to blend the two contractions into one larger word. “You’ve reverted entirely back to fully Texan, that’s for sure.”

Alex stuck his tongue out at her.

“We started with the most personal stuff,” June said, ignoring their nonsense. “That’s all in the black and yellow plastic tubs. Clothes, bedding, and other soft stuff is in the clear plastic tubs. Books are in the red tubs and I love you so much, but I am never moving that many books for you again. Ever.”

He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head where she sat on the step below him. “Thanks for doing it the first time. Both of you.”

“Of course,” they both said.

“I think…” Alex took a deep breath. “Can you two head inside and just give me a little bit to poke around first? Then we’ll go from there?”

“Sure, just shout if you need us, okay?” June said, giving him a hug before she got up and headed in.

Nora lingered until June was gone, then said quietly, “I took care of the more…intimate personal stuff myself, just so you know. It’s all in the black and yellow bin closed with red zipties.”

Alex coughed, unable to stop the slight blush he felt creeping up his neck. “I owe you so much for that.” Not once in the last five years had it occurred to him to wonder about that particular aspect of having his friends and family clean out the brownstone for him. He was glad it had somehow totally escaped his notice because he did not know how he would’ve handled having to think about it constantly for five years, much of which he had not been healthily coping with the whole thing in general. He wasn’t entirely sure how to handle thinking about it now.

He located the box Nora had mentioned, glad to see the zipties were all intact, and quickly shoved it up into the rafters of the garage, behind some other stuff. That was a problem to deal with later.

Coming back down, he looked over the other black and yellow boxes. There were six of them, each with a piece of white ducktape on the top that labeled what was inside. He grabbed a pair of wire cutters off his workbench and snipped off the black zipties holding closed a bin that said “Stuff from main bedroom.” Hands shaking slightly, he pulled off the yellow top and set it aside.

There, right on top, was a smaller cardboard box labeled “jewelry.” With his pocketknife, Alex slit open the tape holding it shut. Inside was all the cuff links and rings and tie clips he and Henry had owned, protected in layers of tissue paper. A few layers down he found what he’d been hoping for the second he’d seen the box of jewelry. Henry’s signet ring.

Alex didn’t remember why he hadn’t been wearing it the day Henry died. Maybe he’d taken it off to take a shower, or to cook dinner. If it had been in the main bedroom it had probably been because of a shower. But whatever the reason was, he hadn’t had the ring on and, since he’d left almost immediately and never gone back, he hadn’t seen the ring since.

Now, in his poorly lit garage, he turned the ring over and over in his hands, marveling at all the intricate little details. His fingers still remembered every groove and bump, still remembered the exact weight of it in his hand.

Lately, Alex couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone about his grief all wrong. What if, instead of running as fast and as far as possible, he’d actually confronted it? What if he’d forced himself to go home instead of running away to Texas? Would things have been different, or would he have remained even more permanently trapped in his grief than he had been? Or, what if he had gone to Texas, but he’d taken what he could of Henry with him, instead of leaving it behind in storage? He hadn’t even looked at a picture of Henry for years after, and this was the first time he’d held something that belonged to Henry since the crash. He’d had David, but David was a living, breathing thing with his own wants and needs. He wasn’t a memento in the way that objects like this ring were. Would the grief have been lighter if he’d just taken this single little ring with him? Just this one, tiny little piece of Henry, a small proof of the fact that he had been real and alive and beautiful before fate snatched him away far too soon?

Alex sighed, the puff of air shaking as it came out. There was no point thinking about that stuff. He’d done what he’d done and he couldn’t change it now. The road may have been so rocky it barely resembled a road, but he was happy with where he’d ended up. He wasn’t always happy in general, but at least the grief wasn’t crushing anymore.

But what to do with the ring now? He turned it over in his hands a few more times. Wearing it wasn’t really an option—not on his hands, anyway, given his work as a firefighter. Even putting it around his neck on a chain like he used to was probably ill-advised. He’d have to think about it. For now, he just tucked it into his back pocket.

An hour later he went inside to find June and Nora sprawled out on the floor of the library with martinis, teasing Freddie with his favorite feather toy while a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace.

“We raided your liquor cabinet,” June informed him.

“I did notice that, yes,” Alex said.

He flopped back onto the couch, still holding the book he’d found. It was So This is Ever After?, a young adult fantasy about what might happen after a chosen one prophecy was fulfilled and you were left with a life much different than you had ever imagined, and much less sense of personal direction than you’d started out with. Henry had been halfway through it when he’d left for England and had bitterly complained about forgetting to bring it with, all things Alex had totally forgotten about until he saw the cover peeking out at him from under some other stuff in the main bedroom personal items box. Alex did remember, now, that he’d suggested Henry just get the ebook so he could finish it that way. Henry had rejected that idea because he said as much as he wanted to finish the book, he didn’t want his memories of it associated with the trip, so he’d rather just wait until he got home.

But he’d never gotten home.

The book was still dog-eared on page 101, where he’d stopped the night before he left. Long before all of this had happened, when Alex had realized Henry was the sort of person who dog-eared books, he’d been kind of surprised. But it had prompted a very long and—on Henry’s part—poetic discussion about marks of ownership and love and how books were objects that were meant to be used and worn down, not treated like delicate china. Looking at the book now, Alex couldn’t help but think of that discussion in the context of all the books he’d written letters to Henry about over the last five years. There were over thirty at this point, and he could see them from where he sat now. He’d have to add So This is Ever After? to the collection.

“Ready to unpack stuff, or do you need to be done for the day?” Nora asked.

Alex sighed. “I think I need to be done for the day, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” June said, getting up from the floor to come sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t imagine what this feels like.”

“It doesn’t actually hurt as much as I thought it might,” Alex said, running his thumb back and forth along the edge of the front cover. “I think that in the last year, and especially the last few months, I’ve gotten better at realizing, and accepting, that there isn’t some magical end to the grief. Henry’s gone, and it sucks, and it hurts. That just is what it is at this point.” Alex took a deep breath. “And I’m also realizing that trying to ignore all of it probably did a lot more harm than good, so all of this, finally going through our stuff, is me trying not to ignore it anymore.”

“I’m proud of you for figuring that out for yourself,” June said, snuggling closer and dropping her head on his shoulder.

“It f*cking hurts,” Alex admitted.

Nora scooted over and leaned against his legs, her cheek resting on his knee. “You don’t have to hurt alone this time. You’re not allowed to, actually.”

Alex smiled. “Thanks.”

“I think we all kind of messed it up,” June said. “It wasn’t just you. We shouldn’t have let you close yourself off so much. We should’ve found a way to get you help.”

“You tried,” Alex said. “All of you did, in your own way. But you’re right, none of us really did it well. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that.”

“Can I make a somewhat risky confession here?” Nora asked.

“Yes?” Alex said, wondering where this was going.

Nora sighed and spun around so she was facing Alex and June, looking up at them from the floor. “The first week or so after everything happened, I hacked into a bunch of Queen Mary’s accounts to see if she did it. To see if she’d paid to have the plane sabotaged or something.”

“You hacked the accounts of the Queen of England?” June said incredulously. “Honey, that it is so many levels of illegal I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well it wasn’t all hacking,” Nora insisted. “A good seventy-five-percent of it was publicly available stuff. Just not easy to track down publicly available stuff.”

“Why did you do it?” Alex asked with a frown. “I mean, was there something that made you suspect her? Something in the news? Because I don’t actually remember much of that time at all.”

Nora shook her head. “No, it was just a funny feeling I had. You and I had been having that conversation about how much of an asshole she was literally seconds before we found out what was going on, and it just all seemed off. So I decided to poke around. I think I just needed to be doing something, and at the time it did feel like something.”

“I assume you didn’t find anything, or you would’ve brought this up before,” Alex said.

She shook her head again. “Nothing at all. No weird payments, no staff that suddenly got rich. The guard with Henry on the flight was new to working with Henry, but he’d been employed by the palace for about a year. He was retired military and didn’t have any family I could find. The two pilots were longtime employees with the only thing of note being that they were both recently divorced. But I dug into their finances as well and didn’t turn up anything strange. No payments to their ex-wives or kids or anything, aside from some standard insurance policies.”

Alex mulled it over. He couldn’t say the idea of Mary having Henry killed seemed all that outlandish. She had the ego and the money to make it happen. But if Nora of all people hadn’t found anything, then there probably wasn’t anything to be found. Still, the idea did wiggle around in his mind until it pressed up against another suspicion he’d had ever since he’d finally read the crash report.

“Okay, tell me this,” Alex said. “Because, like I said, I don’t actually remember what happened all that clearly. But…did it all happen really fast? Like really fast? How the hell did we find out from Twitter, with a broadcast already happening at the crash site, before even the Secret Service knew something was up?”

“You know, yeah…that is kind of weird. I guess I never really thought about it because I was so worried about you, but yeah,” Nora said.

“And the investigation happened really quickly too, it felt like,” June added. “That crash report came out not even two months later, which I guess could make a little more sense because of all the attention around it. But still.”

“Maybe the palace tried to delay the news coming out, and that made it seem like it was happening all at once when the story did finally break?” Nora suggested. “They would’ve had a much closer eye on Henry’s plane than anyone, even the Service. Then they pushed for a quicker report so it would all go away.”

“Maybe,” Alex admitted. This felt like a conversation they should’ve had years ago. Or maybe not. If they’d had it years ago, Alex probably would’ve dived down that rabbit hole until he found himself buried alive. He was having a hard time not doing that now. If this was what had come from just doing a cursory look through the boxes of their old things, he couldn’t imagine what actually unpacking all of it would lead to.

June and Nora stayed for three days and by the time they left Alex had a much better handle on all the stuff and what he wanted to do with it. He donated a lot of his old clothes but kept Henry’s boxed up and stored safely in the garage. He wasn’t quite ready to go through them yet. The old desk from his office that Henry had given him was now in his home office here. Sitting at it for the first time once it was in place had made him cry, but he was glad to have it back. All the books had been migrated into the library and other shelves around the house once the library was out of room. Some of the art had been hung up too, and Alex was working on finding room for more.

It felt good, seeing all those pieces of his old home mingled with his new one for the first time. This was what he’d needed, he realized. To bring his old life and his new life more solidly together. To embrace the memories all those objects held. Everything he touched as he unpacked brought back little pieces of Henry. Him smiling in the kitchen. Him lazing in a beam of sunlight on the couch while he read. The sound of his music as he played the piano (which was also in the garage and taking up a ton of space, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to part with it).

As for Henry’s signet ring, Alex had put it back on a chain and hung it from his bedpost. It would be safe there, never at risk of getting lost or damaged while he was out on a call, and he’d be able to see it almost every day. Henry would be back in his life now, even if only in little pieces of memories.

Chapter 23: Australia

Chapter Text

OCTOBER 2028

ALEX

Alex, Ripper, Miguel, and Eloisa all sat around the station breakroom, watching the news in quiet horror. Ines was playing contentedly in the next room with Sophia and Miguel Jr., all of them totally oblivious to what the adults were experiencing.

Australia was burning. So, so much of Australia was burning. It made even the Black Summer look positively rosy. After two years of extreme drought mixed with a couple of offshore cyclones that had sent dangerous winds across the continent, there were fires just about everywhere. As of yesterday, the death toll had crossed two-hundred. Eight of them were firefighters, seven from a single crew who had been trapped and burned over in a clearing they’d tried to shelter in.

“It doesn’t look real,” Alex muttered.

The images on the news put Hollywood to shame. People running for their lives into the ocean and lakes. Entire towns wiped off the map. Forests glittering orange. Alex couldn’t imagine what it was like for everyone there. How terrifying it must be. It made his heart ache to just be sitting here, watching on TV. He’d made a sizable donation, but it didn’t feel like enough.

“I can’t believe you used to fight fires like that, Miguel,” Eloisa said, shaking her head.

Miguel shook his head too. “I fought some bad ones, I won’t lie, but what’s going on over there, it’s somethin’ else.”

“The biggest concern now,” said the CNN reporter, “is the lack of resources. Australia does not have what it needs to fight this many fires at once, and they have reached out around the world for aid. They are requesting everything from more firefighters to helicopters to just bottled water.”

“We should go,” Alex said, leaning around Ripper to look to Miguel. “We could spare a crew for a couple weeks.”

“Beth would kill me,” Miguel said. “Whole reason we moved out here was to get me away from major wildland work.”

“No, I know,” Alex said. “I’m not saying we’re gonna go roll up to the front and start blasting ACDC and hoping for the best. But if we could go out there and do mop up, take some saws to help clear damaged roads, something, it’d free up a more experienced crew to go out to the front.”

“I’d do that,” Ripper replied. “And our volunteer numbers are good right now, I think we could spare a crew.”

“I’ll cover lost wages for anyone who comes,” Alex added. The more he thought about the idea of going, the more he liked it. He had all the qualifications he needed, and Miguel had more than enough experience to lead them. He’d lead much bigger wildland crews before, after all.

Miguel stared at the TV as he mulled it over, the images constantly shifting from fire to fire to fire. “I’ll go talk to Victoria about it,” he said at last. “But I need to clear it with Beth too.”

Alex nodded. He understood why Miguel’s wife might be uncertain, and he’d never blame her if she said no. He really hoped she wouldn’t, though, because the idea of just sitting safely at home while Australia burned was agonizing. He hadn’t become a firefighter just to watch, even if the damage being done was thousands of miles away.

Three days later they were in Austin preparing to board their flight to Australia. Victoria had, apparently, already been considering sending a team and Beth had agreed on the condition that they promised to only do mop-up work, not any active fire work, which had been the plan from the beginning so that was fine. She’d also made Alex promise to keep Miguel out of trouble, which he swore he would. Alex found out later Beth and Eloisa, along with the other family members, had conspired to create an intricate web of everyone promising to keep someone else out of trouble.

Six of them were going, including Ripper, and Miguel had spent the last three days drilling the whole team on using their fire shelters, practicing with the mobile weather kits, and maintaining the three chainsaws they were bringing along. Even though he preferred structure work, and the situation was dire, Alex couldn’t help but be a little excited to go. He hadn’t been out of the country since before Henry’s death. Besides, he was with some of his best friends in the world, and they were going out to do something good, something that would hopefully help.

The team was lounging around the airport, waiting for their flight, when a very determined looking man walked up and shoved an iPhone in Alex’s face.

“Hi, my name is J.T. Robbe, with Fox News. Are you Alexander Claremont-Diaz?” The guy asked.

Miguel, who was to Alex’s left, screwed up his face in confusion. “Dude, really? His name’s Julio. Julio Gonzales. He doesn’t even look like what’s-his-face.”

J.T. did not look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Ripper, on Alex’s other side, let out a single loud laugh. “Is he sure that he’s not the former First Son? Seriously? Do you hear yourself when you speak? Because you sound idiotic.”

Alex kept quiet, trying excruciatingly hard not to burst out laughing.

J.T. looked back and forth between all three of them until Ripper made a little shoeing motion with her hand and he finally skittered away, throwing a couple last glances over his shoulder. The second he was out of earshot the whole crew burst out laughing.

“How do they fall for it every single f*cking time?” Miguel gasped, holding his side.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, wiping a tear out of his eye.

The first time this had happened had been about eight months earlier when Alex had launched his new charity in Henry’s name (The Henry Fox Online Academy for Queer Authors). It had put him back in the spotlight more than he’d been since Henry had died, which alerted the nation and the world to the fact that he, A, still existed, and B, had been up to some very unexpected things since he’d fallen out of public view. A lot of the news outlets had been referring to him as the “Firefighting Lawyer” which he actually kind of liked. It was nice having his own personal accomplishments put first, rather than things that came from other people like “First Son” or “former boyfriend of Prince Henry,” though, the second one he didn’t mind in connection to the charity. Otherwise it was kind of grating.

In general he was more than happy to do interviews about the new charity, but that did not mean he was okay with random people shoving cameras in his face. Gone were the days where he was willing to give an interview at the drop of a hat. No, that sh*t had to be scheduled and planned these days. Which was where this whole routine had started with the crew lying about who he was. The press was just as interested—if not more interested—in Alex suddenly being a firefighter compared to the charity. For the first few months after they’d learned they’d taken to popping up at random and inconvenient times, hurling questions at him before he could even fully comprehend that they were there. The first time it happened Alex and Miguel had been washing one of the engines out in front of the station when a news van rolled up, catching Alex so off guard he hadn’t answered at first when they’d asked if he was himself. Miguel smoothly stepped in saying that, nope, he was not the former First Son, he was Miguel’s cousin Hernando and he only spoke basic English. Now it was just habit. There was a different name and a different story each time. Even when the reporters clearly suspected they were being lied to, what could they do about it? Put Alex and the crew on air with bunch of footage of them not answering any actual questions and just lying while clearly trying not to laugh?

As funny as it was, after the third time Alex had finally released a statement drawing a line in the sand, saying that he’d be more than happy to use the harassment to establish some new privacy case-law if reporters kept showing up unannounced. Given that his mother was the former president and his father was a senator who was making moves to become the next governor of California, and both of them were former lawyers, no one wanted to have that fight with Alex, especially since he was a current lawyer, and they’d backed off. Mostly. A few intrepid—or stupid—ones still popped up every few weeks, but it had been happening less and less.

A boarding delay resulted in a pushup contest (which Alex and Miguel tied at), and then, finally, they were ushered onto the flight. Two other fire crews from other places in Texas were coming with them, which made the flight a little rowdy but good natured. A lot of it was actually empty, given that Australia wasn’t exactly a good place to visit at the moment. He and Miguel took a set of seats with an empty one in the middle, spreading their snacks out on the empty seat between them while watching a hockey game on the entertainment system.

“How’d your family react to the Australia trip?” Miguel asked, popping an M&M in his mouth. Alex was pretty sure the man ate his weight in M&M’s at least once a month.

“The usual when it comes to me being a firefighter; vaguely worried but supportive,” Alex replied. He’d been a little hesitant to tell June given she was four months pregnant with twins and he didn’t want to stress her out, but with the new press attention on him he didn’t want to risk her finding out some other way. She said she wouldn’t name one of her kids after him if he died doing something stupid, to which he’d asked if that meant she was already planning to name one of her kids after him. She’d blown a raspberry and hung up the phone.

“You’ve been before, right?”

Alex nodded. “A handful of times, mostly with Henry.”

It had gotten so much easier to talk about Henry over the last year, with all the different steps he’d taken. It turned out that going to the crash site had helped, it had just taken a little while. Eventually, Alex had taken the dirt from the site and scattered it in his front garden, which he filled with Henry’s favorite flowers. Unpacking everything from the brownstone and integrating it into his life had helped even more, made him feel like he was knitting himself back together. The old and the new.

Opening the charity had helped too, but even with all his progress, spring had hit him hard. Specifically, turning thirty had hit him hard. It felt like closing a chapter of his life, the chapter that had Henry in it. With the fifth anniversary of the crash coming up just after that, it also meant Alex had now spent twice as long after knowing Henry as he had knowing him. Both things at once set him back on his heels for a few weeks, to the point Eloisa had invited herself and Ines over to stay with him for nearly a month out of concern. Alex was glad she had. Their company had been nice. A good way to keep from falling so deep into himself he couldn’t find his way back out. Eloisa’s boyfriend had gotten grumpy about it, though, so now he was Eloisa’s ex-boyfriend. Alex couldn’t say he objected to that development. No one was allowed to be rude to his little sister like that.

When the hockey game ended Miguel started scrolling through the other options available, but there wasn’t much to pick from that looked appealing. For some reason Alex couldn’t fathom, there were three separate documentaries on Philip.

“Didn’t he just have another kid?” Miguel asked, stopping on one of the documentaries.

“James,” Alex supplied. It had been impossible to avoid the news coverage about it, just like it had when his first kid had been born. “The spare to his heir. He was born back in May, I think?”

Miguel shook his head, scrolling away in search of something else. “Broadcasting your kids like that just seems wrong.”

“Agreed,” Alex said. “Henry always used to say he was grateful that he was born when he was, before social media and stuff got quite so bad. Even with the regular press always after them, he still got about ten years of ‘normal’ childhood, or as normal as it could be for a royal, before everyone had a high powered camera in their pocket.”

“Did you two ever talk about what you’d do when you had kids? About all the privacy stuff, I mean?” Miguel asked.

Alex shook his head. “Never got the chance. But I’m one-hundred-percent sure we would’ve kept them as far as physically possible from any form of public attention.”

“I don’t even know how you could these days,” Miguel replied. “We can barely manage it with Sophia, and we aren’t famous. Thankfully Miguel Jr. hasn’t really shown any interest in online stuff yet, but soon enough we’re going to be battling having two kids on the internet.”

“Get them both an old 90s desktop and some JumpStart games and just tell them the other internet broke and that’s all that works now,” Alex suggested.

Miguel laughed, and they flew on.

Chapter 24: Smoke

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

HENRY

Breathing felt like trying to use his lungs to sift sand. Henry had sacrificed one of his shirts, ripping it up and folding it into a mask of sorts, but it didn’t seem to help much. The cotton was just too thin and worn to hold up against the constant onslaught of wildfire smoke that had been inundating the house for the last three weeks. He’d pried up boards from the floor and used a rock to pound them into place over the broken windows in his bedroom and bathroom, but it didn’t make a difference. The house was too old and full of cracks to keep anything out.

Henry had tried to convince the guards to let him sleep downstairs, where the smoke at least seemed a little better, but they’d refused. Ever since the smoke started to drift over the compound, the guards had been tense but behaving mostly as usual. They brought his meals in, ignored him, then left. The most attention they’d paid him in the last month was the day a week earlier when they’d let him shave and cut his hair. How often he got to do that tended to be random—in the beginning it had usually been once every couple months, lately maybe once every four or five if he was lucky—but it was always supervised, hands hovering over guns and only a safety razor and hair clippers provided. Henry had gotten used to it. It was better than not being able to shave at all.

Ever since the fires had started, the guards all seem to be sporting very nice filter masks. Henry guessed the bunker likely had some form of air filtration as well. That seemed like the sort of thing a bunker built by a doomsday cult would have. Henry didn’t have such luxuries up in the house. During the day he just laid in the yard against the base of the west wall. The smoke was blowing from west to east, so there was a sort of pocket at the bottom of the west wall that tended to remain clearer than elsewhere in the compound. Unlike the year prior, the guards hadn’t—or at least hadn’t yet—tried to lock Henry up due to the smoke. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because the smoke had come on so suddenly, and remained so thick, that they weren’t worried about a helicopter flying over even being able to see him. From his vantage point on the ground, the top of the wall around the house was already blurred by the yellowish haze.

It was so thick Henry wasn’t actually sure where the fire was. There was nothing to see out any of the windows except for the haze. He felt like it had to be close, given how thick the smoke was, but the guards hadn’t given any hint of thinking about evacuating. There hadn’t been any actively burning embers dropping into the yard, at least not that he’d seen, so he figured the fire couldn’t be that close. There was a powdery coat of ash on everything, though. It had turned the whole area into the same dull gray, no other colors to be seen. The flakes were feathery soft when they landed on his skin, leaving streaks behind whenever he tried to wipe them away.

The well water had been out for four months now. The guards provided him with two bottles of water a day, not even bothering to collect the bottles from him afterwards. A corner of the yard had become his bathroom, and once a week the guards gave him a larger jug of water that he could use to wipe himself down with in lieu of a shower. It sucked. In a somewhat bitter irony, though, he at least hadn’t yet needed to use the bathroom when he was locked in his room at night due to how generally dehydrated he was with just the two bottles of water per day.

Henry had always thought some sort of fire might be what saved him, but this was just the same crap as always but somehow even more uncomfortable. Summer hadn’t even officially come yet, however, so he doubted this was going to get better anytime soon. It had been too damn dry for this fire, wherever it was, to just go away. So, for now, all he could think to do was lay at the base of the wall and wait.

Several days later he was lying at the base of the wall again when the door to the bunker opened about ten feet away. Isaac walked out and headed for the house carrying Henry’s lunch and somehow missing that Henry was lying right there.

And he’d left the bunker door cracked open.

The second Isaac went into the house, Henry leapt up and dashed through. The inner door was cracked as well. Henry made it through that one to find a spiral staircase on the other side, leading down to a floor below. He tried to be as quiet as he could going down, but it wasn’t easy given the thing was made of creaky old metal. At the bottom was a small room, about twice the size of the double-doored room above. It had three doors leading off of it, and a bunch of lockers with metal mesh doors. They were all empty so Henry picked a door at random and went through just as he heard Isaac come back in upstairs. There was a shout—probably because Henry had left the doors open—but Henry ignored it.

The room he ended up in was, apparently, the laundry room. Henry didn’t give two sh*ts about laundry so he kept going out into a hallway on the other side. He went right and found himself in a damn gameroom. There was a pool table with a half-finished game on it, shelves full of books and DVDs, a huge flatscreen, and even a couple arcade games. Henry grabbed a poolstick and started looking around for any sort of phone or computer. Something connected to the internet. He didn’t have the faintest idea who he would call if he found something, and he realized he didn’t actually have anyone’s number memorized anymore, if their numbers were even the same at this point. Maybe he could send an email, but any of the people he trusted enough to reach out to would have their emails set up to bounce back something from an unknown sender.

f*ck.

He wished he’d had more time to think this through.

Suddenly there was a click and all the lights went out, plunging the room into total darkness. Henry sucked in a breath and stumbled his way into a corner, holding the stick out in front of him. His breathing raced but at least the air in here was clean like he’d suspected. If he’d been breathing this hard outside he was pretty sure he’d be choking, if not unconscious.

He tried to listen around the blood rushing in his ears, and the wheeze coming from his lungs, but he didn’t hear anything. There’d been two entrances to the room, neither of which had a door, and the floor was solid concrete covered in a couple of rugs. He swung the stick back and forth in slow arcs, hoping to hit anyone coming towards him, but when it did contact something it was immediately ripped out of his hands.

Henry threw up his fists and lunged blindly, only to get immediately caught, strong arms wrapping tight around his chest and pinning his own arms to his sides. The lights clicked back on as Henry struggled and the guard holding him grunted.

“Get your asses in here and cuff him!” Curtis shouted.

Henry stomped on his toes as hard as he could, causing Curtis to let out a string of curses. He pulled one arm away from Henry, using his other to grab hold of Henry’s arm and swing him away. Henry found himself staring straight down the barrel of a punch heading for his face and he let his body drop in an attempt to avoid it. The blow still clipped the side of his head, though. Not enough to make him see stars, but it didn’t feel great.

On the ground now, Henry kicked out at Curtis’s legs, aiming for his knees and ankles. Curtis was just in sweats and a t-shirt, Henry realized. He didn’t even have shoes on. Or his gun. Henry rolled over and lunged at Curtis’s legs, grabbing him around the knees and managing to catch him off-balance enough that Curtis slammed into the ground.

Before he could do anything else, two other pairs of hands grabbed him from behind and hauled him off. They struggled to snap a pair of cuffs on his hands—behind his back—but eventually managed it with all three of them working together. Henry panted and coughed, as did the guards. No one said anything.

“What the f*ck were you thinking, leaving the door cracked?” Martin spat after a minute, his attention on Isaac.

“I forgot my f*cking key,” Isaac snapped back. “I didn’t realize until I was already upstairs, and I thought he was in the bloody house!”

“You didn’t check the cameras?” Curtis said.

“No I didn’t check the bloody cameras! When have you last checked the bloody cameras!?”

All three of them descended into shouting at one another, none paying Henry any mind as they did. He just stayed kneeling on the floor, looking around. From here he could see down the hall he’d come in through, and at the other end was a doorway that was open onto a room full of computer monitors, all seemingly with views from the compound’s security cameras.

Damn.

If only he’d gone left. Maybe, if he’d ended up in that room, he could’ve shut the door and had enough time to get a message out. If the room even had communications to the outside world. There had to be some outside communications somewhere, but there was no guarantee it would’ve been in that room. He’d never know now.

“Just get him back in the f*cking house!” Curtis shouted. “Lock him in his f*cking room with a case of water and a box of granola bars. I’m done with this bullsh*t.”

Curtis turned and stomped away, revealing a small trickle of blood down the back of his head from where he’d hit the floor. Henry couldn’t help but be glad he’d at least managed to land that one good blow, even if the rest of this adventure had led nowhere. It might even be worth getting locked in his room for who knew how long.

Chapter 25: Mop-up

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

THURSDAY

ALEX

They may not have rocked up to the front blasting ACDC, but that didn’t mean Miguel didn’t keep it pouring out of the speakers anyway. They’d been in Australia for just over seven days now, doing chainsaw work every day, and it was exhausting. But also kinda fun. Alex had, so far, only qualified as a Level 3 Sawyer, but Miguel was qualified to train him up to a Level 2, and this trip was providing a good opportunity for Alex to test his skills a little. Preference for structure work or not, he couldn’t deny how fun it was to use a chainsaw.

At the moment, they were clearing hazard trees in the area of a small, extinguished fire just to the west of the main fire camp. The fire—which had been dubbed Fire 30 since there were so many fires, numbers had become easier than names—had only covered about a hundred acres. But it had gone right over a road that served as access for Fire 36 to the southwest, as well as a route that could be used to access Fire 22 to the north (though that fire was currently considered contained), so the road had to be made safe. Which was where Alex, Miguel, and the others came in. This particular project had taken them four days so far, and they probably had another day or two left. But for today, it was time to head back in.

The main fire camp was at the juncture of a road that led to a small, currently evacuated, cattle station. There were smaller satellite camps closer to some of the other fires in the area, but the main one was where Alex and the crew had been staying. It was, at this point, the size of a small town. Hundreds of firefighters and just as many support staff were staged there, trying to wrangle the monstrous task of getting so many fires under control.

“I can’t feel my feet,” Ripper groaned as she slid out of the back seat of the truck Alex had been driving.

“I can feel mine, and they hate me,” Alex replied. He turned off the truck and tossed the keys on the dash. Nothing was locked here. Someone else would be coming to get the truck the second Alex stepped out, taking it off on some night assignment.

Miguel just muttered under his breath, his knees cracking as he waddled around to get their saws out of the bed of the truck. Alex caught the words, “Can’t believe they talked me into this. I’m too old for f*cking wildfires.”

“You’re thirty-three!” Alex laughed.

Miguel flipped him off.

They took their saws to one of the service tents and went to work cleaning them up after the day. Alex felt like he was finally getting the hang of hand-sharpening his chain, and was pleased when Miguel deemed it satisfactory.

“So. Alex,” Ripper said when she came back from the bathroom. “I have…a question.”

“Why are you being weird?” Alex asked.

“Because it’s a weird question. Hypothetically, how would you feel if I told you Prince Philip is here?”

Alex blinked, not really comprehending what Ripper had said. “Uh…I think I’d ask if you had a snag fall on your head at some point today and didn’t tell us about it?”

“No head injuries here. He’s in the mess tent,” Ripper said.

“What makes you think it’s him?” Miguel asked. “I mean, what would His Assholishness the Crown Prince of England be doing in a f*cking fire camp in Australia?”

Alex fully agreed with Miguel. There was no way Philip could or would be here.

“They announced him,” Ripper replied. “Apparently he’s here to ‘support the valiant efforts of the Commonwealth’s firefighters and thank the volunteers from around the world who have stepped up to help.’”

Oh. So apparently there was a way Philip could be here. Alex still didn’t quite believe he would be here though. Philip had always, from what Alex had seen, preferred public appearances that were clean, simple, and made him look good. Visiting some random fire camp did not hit any of those criteria.

“I’ve gotta see this,” Alex said. He was picturing something very much like the scene in the first Captain America movie where Cap had gone to the front for the first time and been met with dead silence. This was not a group of people that needed some out-of-touch figurehead to come preach at them. They were gonna eat Philip alive.

“For once, I will allow the finishing of saw maintenance later, because I too need to f*cking see this,” Miguel declared.

All of them put their saws away in the lock box their crew had been given for all the gear they’d brought themselves, and headed for the mess tent. The sides of the huge tent had been rolled up to let the breeze blow through, giving a perfect view inside even from a distance. About a hundred people were milling around and Alex realized immediately that this was not like the scene in Captain America. At least in that scene the soldiers were paying attention even if they weren’t engaging. But here, only about five people were bothering to even look at Philip. The rest were just acting like he wasn’t even there.

Philip didn’t seem to care, continuing to drone on about how well everyone was doing and how they had to keep up morale. He’d clearly been given some sort of fact sheet about how much was burning and where, and how many people were involved. Maybe Alex had missed it and he’d said it earlier, but Philip didn’t mention anything about the number of deaths—214 now.

“Your valiant efforts and heroic actions are a point of pride for Britain, the Commonwealth, and the world as a whole. To see so many men and women dedicating so much of yourselves to preserving the natural, undeveloped beauty of this rugged land is a testament to the tenacity of every single one of you,” Philip said.

“I can’t believe you were almost related to this guy,” Miguel muttered. “‘Undeveloped beauty of this rugged land’? Is he f*cking serious? What century does he think it is?”

They’d all stopped at the back of the tent, well away from Philip but close enough to hear him clearly over the speaker that had been set up next to him. They’d even given him a little stage, which Alex was pretty sure was just a pallet with a piece of plywood on top. Two guards stood behind him, one on either side, and there was a big black SUV a little farther behind, ready to whisk him away the second he was done with this terrible trial of talking to the peasants.

“Yeah,” Ripper said. “I am so, so sorry about what happened to Henry. But I feel like this particular aspect was a bullet dodged because wow. Has this dude ever interacted with a regular human person before?”

“Nope,” Alex said, popping the P. “He’s been coddled and sheltered from day one. And, unlike his brother, he never cared enough to step outside the bubble that was created for him.”

“This is painful to watch,” Miguel said. “And kind of insulting, honestly.”

Alex groaned. Miguel was right. And if anyone could do something about it, Alex was probably the only one who could at least get close enough to try.

“If they lock me in the Tower of London for this, y’all gotta promise to stage a valiant rescue mission,” Alex told his crew, setting off for the stage.

“We’ll remember you fondly!” Miguel called with a laugh.

Philip glanced at Alex as he walked up, but only in the way of noticing Alex’s movement, not in a way that indicated he’d recognized him. Alex stopped about six feet away from the little stage. Just enough to make the guards twitchy but not so close they’d actually react.

“Philip, shut the f*ck up,” Alex said, crossing his arms and staring at him.

“Excuse me?” Philip said, clearly affronted. Alex wondered what annoyed Philip more: being called out at all, or being called out by just his name by someone he saw as a stranger. He wasn’t surprised Philip didn’t recognize him, especially right now. It had been nearly six years since they’d seen one another up close, and Alex was currently covered in a layer of soot and sweat and sporting a four day old beard.

“As your former almost brother-in-law, I really need you to shut the f*ck up,” Alex replied.

Watching Philip’s press face completely crack was, Alex had to admit, deeply hilarious. The amount of varied emotions that rolled across Philip’s face before he managed to settle on confusion was one of the best things Alex had ever seen. It almost looked like he was about to just shut down and have to completely reboot.

“Alex?” He said finally.

A few other people had started to pay more attention now, and Alex felt their eyes on him. It probably wouldn’t be long before cameras were on him too. He had to do this right. No just calling Philip a dick and walking off.

“Yep,” he said. “Long time no see. Can’t say this is how I ever expected to see you again, not that I really did expect to ever see you again, but here we are.”

Philip just stood there, his jaw hanging slightly open, before he snapped it shut and cleared his throat. “I was under the impression you were a lawyer. Henry never mentioned anything about…uh…firefighting.”

“Yeah, well, he died before I got into the firefighting stuff,” Alex replied. Philip actually winced slightly when Alex mentioned Henry’s death. That was interesting. “And, for the record, I am still a lawyer. The firefighting is just volunteer work. I came out with a crew from where I live in Texas to help out.”

“Oh. Well. That’s. Ahem. Thank you for doing that. Myself and the Crown appreciate your contribut—”

“Gonna have to tell you to shut up again, Philip,” Alex interrupted. “No one around here wants to hear your preaching. We’ve got enough sh*t going on.”

The tiniest little tick of annoyance showed on Philip’s face, bringing back a flash of Henry’s face with it.

“It is the Crown’s duty to—”

“Philip, you’re in the f*cking way,” Alex said. “People here are exhausted and demoralized and past their limits. This is the mess tent. This is where we come to eat before we collapse for six hours before we have to get up and go do the same damn sh*t tomorrow that we did today, acting like it’s making any noticeable difference when we all know it isn’t. It’s not a place for you to come stroke your ego or the crown’s. You’re not a king here.”

Alex expected Philip to fight, even just a little. But he didn’t. He just deflated.

“Fine.” He turned around and walked off.

Philip and Henry may have looked quite different, but damn if the dejected slope to Philip’s shoulders didn’t look familiar.

“f*ck,” Alex muttered. “Philip, hang on.”

Philip already had one hand on the back door of the SUV, turning around to stare at Alex as he walked up. The guards hovered but didn’t step in, allowing Alex to get a lot closer this time. Up close, Philip looked as exhausted as Alex felt.

“What, Alex?” Philip asked.

“I’m sorry if I came off as harsh,” Alex said. “It’s been a long day. A long week.”

Philip swallowed, dropping his hand from the door. “I truly just wanted to help, but I can see my efforts were misjudged. You have made that clear.”

Alex wasn’t one to say no to an opportunity when it was staring him in the face like this. Even if he didn’t like Philip, that didn’t mean Philip couldn’t be useful. “We do need help. They need help. But speeches at fire camps aren’t the way to do it. How much do you actually know about these fires, Philip?” Alex asked. “And don’t tell me what was on your fact sheet. Tell me what you know.”

Philip didn’t say anything.

“Tell your driver to give me the keys, and you go get in the passenger seat,” Alex said, gesturing to the SUV. “Your guards can ride in the back. I want you to see what’s actually happening out here.”

Alex held out a hand and waited. Philip stared at his hand for a minute, then gave a nod to his guards. One reluctantly handed over a set of keys, giving Alex a sour look the whole time. Alex ignored him and climbed in. They headed west out of camp and down the road Alex had been working on. Pulling off it and onto a new road that had been carved to access Fire 36, he headed up a dusty hill, one of the highest elevations in the area. The sun set just as they reached the top, revealing a view of Fire 36 off in the distance. It was well away from them, but it didn’t matter. The orange glow that emanated from it lit up the whole sky. The smoke that came off of it was thinner now, as the fire laid down for the night, but it was still dusky black painted red from below. A few taller trees were torching, throwing flames dozens of feet into the air above their crowns.

Alex put the SUV in park, the view of the fire framed in the windshield. He leaned forward and pointed to the southeast. “That’s where seven firefighters died three weeks ago. They were trying to cut a firebreak when the wind shifted and the fire ran hard. It bowled them over before they even had a chance to try and get out. They burned alive.”

“Lord,” Philip muttered.

“Come on,” Alex said, getting out. Philip followed and Alex led them around to stand at the front of the SUV. The guards stayed inside. “Smell it.”

“Smell what? It’s just smoke,” Philip replied.

“It’s people’s livelihoods,” Alex said. “This isn’t ‘rugged undeveloped land’ out here just because it’s mostly uninhabited. It’s grazing lands and wildlife habitat and aboriginal land. It matters.”

Philip swallowed and tilted his head back, eyes closed. “Tell me what you want me to do, then. Because I do not have the energy to figure it out at this point.”

Alex frowned. Philip had been silent on the drive over, but Alex couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong.

“Look, I’m just gonna be blunt here, are you good? Because you do not seem good,” Alex said.

Philip was silent for a long time, head still back and eyes still closed. “I came here to distract the press,” he said finally. “I didn’t want them to know why I was really in Australia, and this seemed like a good way to keep them occupied. I did, do, however, legitimately want to help. I didn’t realize it would be taken so poorly.”

“So why are you really in Australia, then?” Alex asked. He didn’t know if he was going to get an answer, but something in the tone of Philip’s voice made it seem like he was desperate for someone to talk to.

Philip opened his eyes and tilted his head back down, eyes scanning over the fire in the distance, but he didn’t say anything for a long time. Alex let him have the silence.

“My son,” Philip said finally.

“James?”

Philip nodded, swallowing heavily. “I don’t think I need to tell you not to repeat anything I’m about to say?”

“I won’t,” Alex assured.

“He was born a month premature,” Philip said, voice grave. “We covered that up because it is no one’s business but our own. He has struggled to survive since then and, recently, we finally discovered that he has a very serious heart condition. A likely fatal heart condition.”

“f*ck,” Alex muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

Philip crossed his arms, leaning back against the front of the SUV. “The only chance he has is a heart transplant. However, he is currently too weak to survive the surgery even if a heart were to become available. But there’s a doctor in Sydney who has been pioneering a new treatment for the condition. It’s not a cure, far from it with a case as serious as James’s, but it might help James recover enough to get him to a point where he could survive a transplant. Or so we are hoping. That’s why I’m in Australia. I had a meeting with the doctor in Sydney yesterday, and he asked for a couple days to review the case.”

Alex reached out and rested a hand on Philip’s shoulder. “I know I said it already, but I am so sorry. I can’t imagine what any of that feels like.”

Philip nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Kind of surprised you told me, if I’m being honest,” Alex said.

Philip turned his head to look at Alex, no longer trying to hide how exhausted and miserable he was clearly feeling. “Through so much of this…the one person I wanted to talk to more than anyone else in the world was Henry.”

“Really?” Alex said, caught off guard once again by the declaration.

Philip nodded, turning his attention back to the fire. “As cliché as it is, being a parent does change you. Makes you see things in a different light, especially when one of your kids is sick. And when that child is an heir to a throne…it is just…a different kind of hard due to how much more attention that brings. I feel like Henry would have understood that, even if he never got to be a parent himself. I would have liked to ask him how I could be better for my own children than our parents were for us. For him.”

Alex leaned back against the SUV next to Philip. “I think…if Henry were still here, he’d tell you to get James out. And Elizabeth. He’d tell you your kids are more important than a damn crown, and that there’s no way either of them are going to get the life they deserve if they have to grow up inside that system. He’d tell you that even if James wasn’t sick.”

Philip’s shoulders tightened slightly and he took a long, slow breath. “Mazzy and I have…circled that idea once or twice.”

The answer shocked Alex so much he didn’t quite know what to say at first. He never, not in a billion years, would’ve thought that Philip, of all people, would ever consider abdication. A tingle of unease went down Alex’s spine as he remembered the last time he’d had a conversation like this. Right before Henry had died.

“So why not make the jump?” Alex asked, pushing his own feelings aside. “You’ll still be rich enough to give James whatever care he needs, you’ll still have a home.”

Philip’s eyes shifted back to the guards in the truck, then he lightly waved at them to stay put, indicating for Alex to follow him. Once they were a couple dozen feet away, their backs to the SUV, Philip said, “I know you and Bea still talk all the time, but she’s all but officially dropped her title at this point.”

“I’m aware,” Alex said.

“The point is that she’s not aware,” Philip said. “Of how bad our grandmother has gotten. And with our mother and Henry gone…I’m basically the only one around to deal with Mary anymore.”

“What do you mean by ‘bad’?” Alex asked.

Philip sighed. “Her dementia. It’s gotten significantly worse in the last couple of years. But she’s not just forgetting names of dignitaries or parts of speeches like she used to. The best way I can describe it is that she is forgetting what she is and isn’t allowed to do as a modern monarch.”

“What, is she threatening to behead people?” Alex joked.

Philip leveled him with a serious stare. “Yes.”

“Wait, f*ck, really?”

Philip nodded. “One of her maids dropped a pitcher of water a few weeks ago, and Mary threatened her until she was in tears. She’s better in the mornings, at least, but about a year ago I started sitting in on all of her meetings with the Prime Minister for fear of what might happen should they be alone together. There needs to be a witness there. To make this trip, I had to send her up to Scotland to make sure she would be out of the way.”

“And what does the Prime Minister have to say about all this?” Alex asked.

“The meetings happen in the morning,” Philip said. “That’s intentional.”

“What does this have to do with your kids, though?” Alex asked. “I get that the situation with Mary might be politically serious, but all the more reason for you to leave. Tell the PM the truth, involve whatever other levels of government you need to, and walk away.”

“Alex, how, exactly, do you think a woman who is threatening beheadings for dropped water pitchers would react to her last remaining heir shedding his title? Especially since, legally, as sovereign, she could try to claim my children even if Martha and I did leave?” Philip said. “She may not technically be the old-world monarch she feels like she is in the evenings, but that does not mean her reach is not far and dangerous.”

Alex puffed out a breath. “So you’re stuck.”

“I’m stuck,” Philip said. “I can’t take care of James and try to pull us out of the system at the same time.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Alex asked.

Philip shook his head. “Not with any of that, no. But if there is a better way I can help with these fires, I would be open to hearing it.”

“Money,” Alex said simply. “They need money, and workers. There’s only so many firefighters out there, but more support staff to free up the actual firefighters would go a long way. I know, technically, what you can do is limited, but if there was ever a time to stretch those limits, it’s now. Call on charities you’re connected to. Appeal to the public, not the firefighters. Offer to match donations. Rub some rich elbows. Get your military to hand over a bunch of surplus.”

Philip nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. Now give me your phone.” Alex held out a hand, waggling his fingers. Philip looked confused, but handed his phone over anyway. Alex added his name and number in, then texted himself. “There. Call, text, whatever, if you ever want to talk. I’ll listen.”

Philip took his phone back, managing a small smile. “Thank you, Alex.”

Alex was dropped back off at fire camp, Philip thanking him again before he left with his guards. When Alex got back to their section of the tent city, and to the tent he and Miguel were sharing, Miguel was still up, clearly waiting for him. He had the lantern on and was playing a game on his phone. Alex hadn’t had a chance to shower yet, but he didn’t care, flopping back onto his cot as he was.

“So did you have fun on your little field trip?” Miguel asked. When Alex only frowned up at the roof of their tent, Miguel’s tone got more serious. “What?”

“He told me a lot of personal stuff,” Alex said. “He’s got a lot going on right now. Most of it not great.”

“That sucks,” Miguel said.

Alex didn’t say anything for awhile. When Philip had been talking about Mary, about her dementia and the way it was changing her, it had niggled at something in the back of Alex’s mind. It wasn’t until their drive back that Alex finally realized why, but he hadn’t been willing to say anything in front of Philip’s guards. Not after Philip had so intentionally distanced himself from them to have the discussion about Mary.

“Have you ever known anyone with really serious dementia? Someone you also knew really well before they had dementia?” Alex asked finally. He hadn’t, somehow. There were a few family members that had more mild forms, but nothing serious.

“My abuelo on my mom’s side,” Miguel said. “Why?”

“How much did it change his personality?” Alex asked.

“He got really angry,” Miguel said. “You could tell it was usually just because he was scared, though, and frustrated. But he was a big guy and eventually we had to put him in a care facility for everyone’s safety. Is this about Queen Mary?”

Alex nodded, knowing he didn’t have to make Miguel promise not to say anything. “Mary had some memory issues before Henry and I even got together. Apparently they’ve gotten a lot worse.”

“Do you care?” Miguel asked.

“About her, no,” Alex said. “But…well…you know how I had Nora and June over to help unpack all the stuff from the brownstone earlier this year?”

Miguel nodded.

“When we were doing that, Nora confessed that, right after Henry’s death, she suspected the queen might have killed him. Literally seconds before we found out about the crash, I’d been bitching to her about Mary and how much she hated Henry. So Nora looked into it, and not in an…entirely legal manner,” Alex explained.

“Okay?” Miguel said.

Alex sat up, swinging his legs to the ground and putting his elbows on his knees. “Nora didn’t find anything but it’s just been stuck in my brain that she’d even thought to look because…because I don’t think she was wrong to look. I can see Mary going that far, especially if she wasn’t quite in her right mind.”

“But Nora didn’t find anything, like you said,” Miguel pointed out. “And, from what you’ve told me, if Nora can’t find something in a set of data, it probably doesn’t exist.”

Alex scrubbed his hands back through his hair. “I know. I know. But now, after tonight, I can’t get this f*cking idea out of my f*cking head that Mary did something.”

“So call Nora and ask her to look again,” Miguel replied. “It’s been almost six years, maybe there’s something there now that wasn’t before. No clue what that could be, but still. And, if there isn’t anything there, at least looking one more time might help you put this to rest.”

Alex thought about it. “I’ll call her tomorrow. When it isn’t so fresh. Maybe I just need to sleep on it a little.”

“Also a rational decision.”

Alex sighed and Miguel got up to sit on his cot next to him, pulling Alex into a hug. Alex returned it gratefully. Of all the things he’d expected to happen when Ripper had come and told him Philip was in camp, none of what had actually happened was on the list. He couldn’t decide if what had happened was good, or not.

Chapter 26: Abandoned

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

FRIDAY

HENRY

Henry had been locked in his room for a week now, and the door hadn’t been opened once. He’d been given a case of water bottles—which was nearly gone despite his best efforts to ration it, a box of granola bars, a box of cherry poptarts, and a bag of apples. The smoke was completely inescapable up here, and he couldn’t stop coughing. When he slept, it was only because he’d passed out from exhaustion.

He’d tried yelling into the cameras for a couple days before he’d realized the indicator lights on them weren’t on. Now the only reason he knew the guards were still there at all was because he could still see their SUV parked out back when he peered through gaps in his boarded up window. Why they hadn’t left was beyond him. Even in the bunker with filtered air, they couldn’t be having a good time. And clearly Henry’s adventure into the bunker had pissed them off. It had made it perfectly clear just how frustrated they were getting with the overall situation.

Henry just wanted it to be over. Not his life, he still hadn’t given up on surviving this somehow, but, god, he was tired. He was tired of constantly trying to think up ways to escape, of dealing with three guards that clearly hated him more and more every day, of not having anything to do, of all of it. He just wanted it to be over.

There’d been a lot more helicopters and planes flying over lately, much lower from Henry could tell, but the smoke outside was still so thick Henry didn’t even bother taking the boards off his window to try and wave out at them. He’d thought about going out through his floor again, like he had the one and only time he’d managed to make it out of the compound, but he didn’t think it would be worth the effort. It wasn’t like he could get anywhere else, and the guards would just find another way to contain him if they really wanted to.

When the door to his room slammed open, pulling Henry out of a half sleep half daze, he didn’t have time to react before Martin had put him in a headlock with a gun to his temple.

“You make a sound and you’re dead, do you hear me?” Martin hissed.

Henry could only manage a tiny nod as his heart raced. What the f*ck was happening? He strained to hear anything, hoping for some tiny clue about what was going on. There were voices downstairs. One was Curtis and the other…the other was completely unfamiliar.

“Yeah, the place belonged to my uncle,” Curtis said. “Bit of a kook. I just wanted to come check that there weren’t any old mementos still hanging around before it burned up.”

“Well, we’ll do our best to prevent that from happening,” the unfamiliar voice said. It was a woman with a thick Australian accent.

“Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure,” Curtis said. “But, as you can see, the place is old and abandoned. Please don’t waste any resources protecting it. I have no sentimental ties to the place, and I doubt we’ll ever come see it again. Only reason I haven’t sold the land is because I haven’t been able to find a buyer.”

Henry wanted to scream. To bite Martin’s arm or something. But the woman downstairs sounded like she was alone, and Henry wasn’t sure what his guards might do. He couldn’t put someone else’s life in danger.

“Well, I have to get going then,” the woman said. “We just wanted to check up on it since one of our helicopters reported your SUV when they were passing over.”

“I’ll be heading out shortly,” Curtis said. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You be safe now,” the woman said.

The front door closed and Henry heard the gate swinging closed a minute later. Martin didn’t let go immediately, though, waiting another few minutes.

“Get up,” Martin said, pulling Henry up before he had a chance to agree or disagree. Martin herded him downstairs, one hand on Henry’s arm and the other pressing the gun into his side.

They ended up in the livingroom where Curtis and Isaac were yelling at one another.

“There’s going to be more people!” Isaac snapped. “We’re f*cking surrounded by all these damn fires! Not to mention all the new roads they’ve cut to fight them. There’s people everywhere!”

“You think I don’t bloody know that?” Curtis snapped back.

“Shut up and give me the f*cking cuffs,” Martin interrupted.

There was nothing Henry could do as he was once more cuffed to the radiator, the cuff set as tight as possible.

“We’re going to be found,” Isaac said. “You were just seen here, Curtis, and so was the SUV. That’s traceable. This was never supposed to be traceable.”

“I agree with him,” Martin said. “This whole sh*t show should’ve been over by now. I didn’t sign on to babysit this brat for the rest of my life while his grandmother looses her mind. Prince Philip has his two kids. The line is secure. It’s f*cking done.”

Martin still had his gun drawn and hanging at his side, fingers tightening and untightening around it as he spoke. Henry couldn’t take his eyes off of it. His heart was going so fast it hurt, and he could barely breathe. They were going to kill him.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Martin. “The plan was always to kill him. Let’s just do it and go.”

“Please,” Henry said, his voice cracking from the smoke or emotion or both.

Martin just aimed his gun at Henry, but Curtis reached out and pushed it away. “The plan was for the queen to order his death. But you’re right, she’s gone round the bend. Do you want to be the one to tell her we defied her orders?”

Martin swallowed and fully lowered his gun.

“Didn’t think so,” Curtis said. He turned his attention to Isaac. “Do you?”

Isaac, jaw tight, shook his head. “But we can’t f*cking stay here. Not with this many people around. We’ll get caught.”

“What if we took him down into the bunker? Locked him up in one of the rooms down there?” Martin said. “I know the queen wants him isolated up here, but we can explain the circ*mstances—”

“Won’t work,” Isaac said. “Not as long as the SUV is still here. People will see it, even if we parked it inside the walls. And I’m not letting one of you f*ckers leave while I stay here, and I doubt either of you feel any differently.”

“I’ll do whatever you say if we all leave,” Henry said, doubting it would work but he had to try. “I’ll hide, I’ll shut up. Whatever you want.”

“How about you shut up now?” Martin snapped.

“What if…” Isaac said slowly. “We didn’t kill him?”

Curtis frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean look at him.” Isaac gestured to Henry. “He already looks like sh*t. Probably dehydrated at this point, and we haven’t given him much food in the last week. Leave him like he is, and I doubt he’d last more than a couple more days without water.”

“Please—”

Martin strode over and grabbed a fistful of Henry’s hair, smacking his head back into the radiator hard enough to send stars across his vision.

“So we leave and let him die?” Curtis said.

“Yes,” Isaac replied. “Tell the queen the smoke got him. We’ll come back and cleanup later. You told that firefighter chick that no one else was here, showed her the place looks abandoned. No one is going to come looking for a body. They’ve got other sh*t to worry about. If the queen wants proof of how he died, it won’t matter because it will be the smoke that gets him. We’ll leave him cuffed where he is so he can’t get anyone’s attention and just let nature take its course.”

Henry bit back the urge to keep trying to beg them to save him. It wasn’t working. Maybe his best chance was for them to go. He’d still be cuffed to the radiator, but if he could get out of that somehow then he’d be alone and able to finally try to get someone’s attention. He could make it back onto the roof, or maybe even find a way to light the house on fire for real this time.

Curtis stared at Henry, arms crossed as he thought it over. “Okay.”

It took two hours for the guards to leave. They’d pulled the SUV into the compound first, bringing out several boxes of stuff from the bunker and loading it all into the vehicle. Henry could see it all through the front window. He could also see them close the gate as they left, locking him inside.

The second they were gone, he started yanking on the cuffs. They didn’t budge, just bit into his skin the more he pulled. There’d be no pulling them off the radiator either. Martin had snapped them around one of the slats on the main body. It was solid metal that Henry knew he had no hope of breaking.

“Think,” Henry told himself.

The problem was that he really couldn’t think at the moment. He was so tired, and he knew the smoke wasn’t helping. Maybe he could…maybe he could just knock the whole radiator off? He’d still be cuffed to it, but if he could at least make it outside and into the yard his chances would improve.

Henry stood up, legs shaking, and grabbed hold of two of the radiator slats, trying to rock it back and forth. It only wobbled a few millimeters, but he kept at it. He kept at it for what felt like hours before he had to give up, sliding to the floor panting and wheezing.

“f*ck,” he sobbed, though no tears came. He was too dehydrated for that. “f*ck. f*ck. f*ck!”

He wanted to live. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted…he wanted Alex. God, he wanted Alex so bad. Even though Henry would never have him again, even if he did live, he would’ve given anything in that moment to feel Alex hold him just one more time. To feel that safety and assurance that only Alex had ever been able to give him. Alex would’ve been able to make this better. All the sh*tty pain and confusion and exhaustion of the last five and a half years would’ve melted away. But Alex was married with a daughter, maybe other kids as well by now. Henry had lost him.

But he still didn’t want to die.

So he got up, and started looking for another way to survive.

Chapter 27: Blow Up

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

SUNDAY

ALEX

Their liaison at the fire camp was a man named Gary. Gary looked like he hadn’t slept in several weeks, but he was there every morning to pass on the briefing for the day and give them their assignment.

“Okay,” Gary said, spreading a map out on the hood of one of the trucks Alex and his crew had been given for the day. They were just regular pickups—not even official fire department ones, just trucks with gear thrown in the back. Only one had a water tank, which took up half its bed. That was all there was to be had, though, especially for people that weren’t going to the fire fronts. “There’s an access road that runs east to west here, and Fire 22 burned over it about a week ago, just before we got containment. The road itself has been cleared, but there’s some dangerous snags still in the area that could fall onto the road and I want them cleared out. This access road is crucial for getting supplies over to the area of Fire 31, and getting us to our nearest large water source, Pik Lake. The site isn’t close to any of our camps. You’ll be spiked out while you’re there.”

“We can do that,” Miguel said, leaning over the map to look closer. “Are there any assets of concern in the area?”

Gary shook his head. “Only thing out here other than the cattle station is an old house that was used as a cult compound, but it’s been abandoned for decades. We had reports someone was there, but I had someone go check it out and it was just the property owner doing a last visit to look for old family heirlooms, I guess. He was seen leaving the area shortly after.”

“Sounds good. We’ll get some more supplies and head out,” Miguel replied.

It took them four hours to reach their work site, the whole drive occurring on what could only be called a road if you squinted and tilted your head a little. Really, all it was was a bulldozer track through scrub brush. The brush crowed in tight around the truck, bone dry branches occasionally scraping along the sides as they went through. They could’ve taken the main road—the old, real road—to the site, but it was a less direct route and would’ve added a couple hours to their trip.

“Mark this down as not an escape route,” Miguel muttered three hours in.

Alex agreed. This was not something he wanted to drive through if they had to make a quick exit for any reason. He’d been going over their maps, though, keeping an eye on landmarks they passed and clearings in the brush that might provide safety. The road they were heading out to to handle snags at was another old, original road, thankfully, so hopefully it would be clearer. They could take it out west or east as well, and they’d be in the black of a burned out fire. They’d be fine.

“This is not as blacked out as I’d expected,” Ripper said once they reached the site.

“No, it isn’t,” Miguel agreed.

The understory was pretty charred, but the crowns of the tall trees all around them were still untouched. Mostly brown and dead, but not burned.

“Alex, grab a piss pump and come with me, I want to scout around a little. Ripper, grab the weather kit and get me a spot forecast. Everyone else, walk the road and start noting problem trees,” Miguel ordered.

Alex did as asked, pulling one of the water packs with a hose out of the bed of their truck and sliding it on on top of his regular fire pack. Miguel grabbed a pulaski and they headed out. Smoke trailed out from the ground in thin wisps as they walked and it only took a little toeing around in the charcoal remnants of plants to find embers.

“Watch out for ash pits,” Miguel said.

Alex nodded, being careful where he put his feet to avoid the dangerous, oven-like hollows left behind by burned up roots.

“So did you get a chance to talk to Nora?” Miguel asked as they walked.

Alex shook his head. “I decided it wasn’t really something I should talk about over the phone. I was already planning to go up and visit them when we get back, so I’ll just bring it up then. Safer that way.”

Miguel glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “You think the queen’s tapped your damn phone or something?”

“I mean—” Alex gave an exaggerated shrug “—probably not? But with the way technology is going, you never know. And I don’t want it getting out in any way, shape, or form that I sort of suspect her of murder. Not unless I find solid proof. And if I do, well…that’s a bridge to cross if I get to it. But until then, I’m going to be cautious.”

“Fair enough.”

They continued walking, examining all the trees, Alex using the pump to wet down embers as he found them. “What do you think? Can we work it?” Alex asked.

Miguel didn’t answer for a minute, his eyes scanning over everything. “Depends what Ripper has to say. The overall forecast for the area is supposed to be calm for the day. As long as that holds true in our specific spot, I’m okay with us working in close to the road. Keep it within twenty yards for now, so we’ve got a quick route back to the trucks if needed.”

“Let’s cut some trees then,” Alex said.

Ripper confirmed the forecast was stable based on her measurements, so the team set to work. After a quick lunch, Ripper took the first shift as lookout, hiking down the road a few hundred yards to the east so she’d be at the top of the hill there. The rest of them split into teams of two so there’d be one sawyer and one swamper on each team. Miguel set Alex up with a somewhat complex type 2 tree, then stepped back to watch him work it, swamping and advising as needed.

They camped out a little ways down the road where a bulldozer had scrapped out a safety zone, then got right back to it come morning. Alex and Miguel were working together once again, and they were getting a fair amount done, but by about ten in the morning a stiff breeze started to come out of the north. He and Miguel paused their limbing of the tree Miguel had just laid down to watch as a gust rattled through the treetops above them, sending leaves and needles raining down on their heads.

“I know Lightning just did another weather check, and the readings are about the same,” Alex said. “But I’m not sure I’m feeling good about this anymore.”

The wind was kicking up smoke all around them too, and Alex could see three spots where embers were coming back to life under the debris. He wasn’t worried about a ground fire at the moment—there really wasn’t anything on the ground left to burn—but there was still plenty of fuel in the crowns. They weren’t equipped to handle it if the fire restarted up there.

Miguel nodded. “Me too. We’re out.”

Miguel radioed the others and everyone met back at the trucks. The breeze was now a solid wind and Alex swore he saw a few embers float by through the air.

“We’re not going out the way we came in,” Alex said.

“Not a chance,” Ripper agreed.

“The main road will get us out and back to fire camp just fine,” Miguel said. “Nothing’s actually on fire yet. But I need to radio this in.” Miguel tossed Alex the keys.

Alex climbed into the driver’s seat while Miguel got into the passenger side and Ripper took the backseat. Everyone else piled into the second truck and they headed out. Miguel called the situation in over the radio and confirmed that they were heading back in and they were about six hours away.

For the most part, the drive was unremarkable. There was a lot of dust and ash on the wind, but that was it. Alex almost wanted to relax a little, but he knew better than that by now. There’d be no relaxing until they were back in Texas, honestly.

It wasn’t until about two hours into the drive that things went wrong.

“Oh f*ck, what is that?” Ripper said from behind Alex.

Alex leaned forward, looking around to try and see what she saw.

Ripper pointed just ahead and to the west. “Two o’clock, is that new smoke?”

“Well sh*t,” Alex and Miguel muttered at the same time.

It was new smoke and before their eyes it went from the trail of a bonfire to the trail of an acre to the trail of five. The wind was still racing by, getting faster and faster.

“sh*t damn,” Miguel said. “This is blowing up. Alex, go. Whatever’s ahead of us is new and it could cross the road, we need to get through before it does. This’ll blow up 22 too, and that one will come from behind. We need to get out, now.”

Alex took one of their hand-held radios to contact the rest of the crew in the other truck, which was ahead of them, while Miguel radioed in what was happening over the truck’s larger radio system. They’d been going the speed limit before, but not now. Alex wasn’t worried yet, just attentive to the potential for danger. The situation had gotten serious, but not dire. And, if it really came to it, they did have their fire shelters.

“Ripper, keep an eye out for deployment zones,” Alex said, keeping his voice even. Hopefully they wouldn’t need them, but if they did they needed to know where they were. A pullout on the road, a natural clearing, anything free of fuels so they’d be as far away from direct contact with any fire as possible. Fire shelters protected from heat, not flames, after all.

“Beth is gonna kill me,” Miguel muttered.

“We’re fine,” Alex replied.

“Yeah, but she’s still gonna kill me,” Miguel said.

“Blame me,” Alex told him. “Coming out here was my idea.”

“She’ll just kill both of us.”

“I’ll buy y’all a double coffin,” Ripper said.

After that, conversation became difficult due to just how much chatter was coming out of the radio. This was getting bad. Fire 22 had indeed blown up as well and, though they couldn’t see it, it was apparently running hard behind them. Of far more concern, for them at least, was this new fire ahead and to the west. It was going just as hard.

“What do we do if it cuts us off?” Ripper asked.

“Working on it,” Miguel said, scanning over the map he’d opened on his lap. It was covered in sketched new roads and Alex really hoped it was accurate. “We might need to just pull over if we find a safe enough spot and let it burn over.”

Alex was about to comment when the ridge to his right dipped down to reveal what had been hiding behind it.

“Fire,” Alex said, jerking his head to the side slightly to point it out to the others while he kept both hands on the wheel. As soon as he said it the flames raced through the low spot in the ridge and headed for the road.

“Dammit, just go, just go. Push through,” Miguel said. He radioed the other truck to do the same.

Sweat started to pour down Alex’s face as the flames lashed against the outside of the truck for what seemed like ages. When they came through to a somewhat clearer spot, the world still glittered black and orange all around them. There were more huge flames ahead, though. They were far from in the clear yet.

But, Alex saw, it wasn’t just trees and bushes burning around them. There was a house up ahead. A house with huge, barbed wire topped concrete walls all around it. The roof was on fire as well. It had to be the cult compound Gary had mentioned.

“Are we sure that’s empty?” Alex shouted. It was the only way to be heard over the truck and the fire and the radio.

“It better f*cking be empty,” Miguel replied. “But slow down when you go by.”

Alex nodded, slowing the truck as much as he dared. There was a big metal gate, swung open in the howling wind, and Alex’s heart dropped when he saw a body on the steps. Whoever it was didn’t seem to be moving. He slammed on the brakes before he consciously knew he was doing it.

“Go, go!” Miguel said, shoving Alex out the door and sliding to take his place.

Alex ran through the smoke and embers, aware Ripper was on his heels, and bent down to scoop up one of the unconscious guy’s arms to lift him up without even bothering to check if he was alive. Ripper took the other arm and together they hauled the guy back to the truck, shoving him into the backseat as smoke and embers battered them from every direction. Alex climbed in with him and Ripper clambered in over top of them and into the front passenger seat. Before the door was even closed, Miguel had started rolling them forward again, foot to the floor.

The first thing Alex noticed was that the guy was bleeding pretty badly from his left hand. The second thing he noticed was that there was a pair of handcuffs attached to that wrist. The other end of the handcuffs was twisted and mangled, like it had been attached to something and forcibly broken off. But active bleeding meant the guy had a pulse, which meant he wasn’t dead. Yet.

“I need the med kit,” Alex said, coughing a bit. He was crouched in front of the backseat, the unconscious man sprawled out across the whole thing.

“We’ve only got the little one in the cab,” Ripper said, handing it over.

Alex took it and finally looked up at the guy’s face, intending to try and gauge how conscious he was, if at all. But what he saw made the whole world fade out and narrow down into nothing else but that face. He knew that face. He couldn’t know that face, but he knew that face. Even though it was a little gaunt, and stained with ash, and hadn’t seen a razor in awhile, he knew that face.

Dropping the med kit he scrambled forward, licking his thumb and using it to swipe away some of the ash just to the left of the man’s nose, revealing exactly what he’d expected to find underneath. A little dark brown freckle.

“Alex? What’s going on?” Miguel said when Alex’s breathing started to race.

Alex didn’t know. He had no f*cking idea what was happening. The world was, very suddenly, upsidedown. He had to be sure. He pulled up the hem of the man’s shirt next, revealing a small white scar just above his hip bone. A scar from falling off a horse during polo practice.

“It’s Henry,” Alex choked. “It’s Henry.”

Chapter 28: Hospital

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

SUNDAY

ALEX

Alex shook himself out of the shock as soon as he said it. There wasn’t time for that. Henry was hurt. They could figure out what the hell was going on later.

“Ripper, radio in that we need a med-evac, now. By helicopter. Figure out where we need to meet them,” Alex ordered. “But do not tell them who it is, just tell them it’s a civilian. I’m going with him and that’s not optional.” It was already standard protocol not to mention names over the radio when someone was injured, and Alex knew that Ripper was well aware of that, but he had to be sure. He had to keep Henry safe.

Miguel managed to coax a little more speed out of the truck while Ripper did as asked.

“Henry,” Alex said, lightly tapping his face. “Can you hear me?”

Henry groaned and shifted around, his eyes fluttering open for a fraction of a second before closing again. His lips were so cracked they were bleeding, and a quick pinch test revealed that his skin didn’t snap back into position the way it should have. He was dangerously, dangerously dehydrated. There wasn’t much Alex could do about that right now. Instead, he focused back in on Henry’s hand. It was still bleeding, though sluggishly. It was pretty obvious what had happened when Alex looked closer. In trying to get out of the cuffs, they’d cut into the skin of Henry’s hand just below his wrist on the side of his pinky, and pulled the skin up and away almost all the way too the pinky. There was a smaller cut on the base of his thumb as well, but the skin hadn’t been pulled back there.

It made Alex want to throw up, imagining how the injury must have happened. How scared Henry must have been to try that hard to get away. Alex put on a set of disposable gloves, then grabbed a foil packet of saline solution out of the med kit and used it to wet down some fresh gauze that he tore out of another packet. As gently as he could, he pressed the damp gauze over the wound on the left side of Henry’s hand, and some on the right side too, then he wrapped all of it up in more gauze.

At some point, Alex wasn’t sure when, they’d made it out of the active fire. But Miguel was still flooring it.

“We’re meeting the chopper in five minutes,” Ripper said. “But the transfer has to be quick.”

“They’ve got room for me?” Alex asked.

“Yeah,” Ripper assured.

They stopped in a large, open field just as a chopper set down about twenty yards away. The rest of their crew was at the door behind Alex in seconds, helping to pull Henry out and lay him on a backboard. He was strapped to it and together they carried Henry over to the chopper.

“Call June,” Alex ordered Miguel. “No one else. Just call June.”

Miguel nodded. “We’re right behind you.”

The chopper door slammed shut and, as soon as everyone was clear, they lifted off. Alex had been given a headset, and he communicated what little he knew about Henry’s condition to the medic on board. There wasn’t much that could be done for him now, except starting an IV, which the medic was attempting to do. He couldn’t seem to find a vein, though.

Alex looked around until he found a pair of trauma shears, using them to cut away Henry’s shirt so they could find a better access point. “Here,” Alex said, running his thumb over a vein just below Henry’s clavicle.

The medic nodded and leaned in. It still took him two tries, but he finally got the IV in, sending a shudder of relief through Alex. They’d put Henry on oxygen as well. Now all there was to do was make the long flight to Sydney and the only hospital that had room for a trauma patient. If Henry took a turn during the flight they could divert to somewhere closer, but nearly everywhere in the country was overwhelmed with people suffering from the wildfire smoke. Sydney was their best bet.

The long flight did not do a single damn thing to stop Alex’s heart racing. He didn’t understand what was happening. No angle made sense. He kept checking again and again that it was Henry. And it was. Every little mark Alex searched for was right where he expected it. But there were new marks as well. A few faded scars on his right arm, one that looked like it had been from a rather deep cut. A nearly healed black eye. A dark bruise on his forehead. A lot of little scars on his fingers. And he was thin. Not dangerously so—his bones weren’t visible in any way, aside from some gauntness in his face, but he’d certainly lost weight.

When they landed at the hospital Alex stayed glued to Henry’s stretcher. When the doctors asked him to stay back, he said no.

“I’ll let you work, but this man is currently in danger, and I need to stay within sight of him. I can explain more after you’ve treated him,” Alex said. How the hell was he supposed to do this? What did he say and to who?

Thankfully, the person he was talking to agreed, telling him that he could stay as long as he gave them plenty of room. Alex stood there, about ten feet away, watching them work and trying not to fall into a full on panic. He didn’t have his phone on him—it had been in the truck since there’d been no signal at their worksite so there’d been no point in carrying it.

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz?” An unfamiliar voice said behind him. Alex turned to find three men in suits standing there. “My name is Andrew Maso, your sister June contacted us to request private security services.”

“I need a phone, I left mine,” Alex said.

Maso reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, unlocking it and handing it over to Alex.

Alex took it, then pointed back at Henry. “No one comes near him that’s not on the staff at this hospital.”

Maso nodded and waved the other two guards over to Henry, then went to talk to someone on the staff that wasn’t actively taking care of Henry or another patient. Eyes still on Henry and fingers shaking, Alex dialed June’s number. She picked up before the first ring was even done.

“Hello?” June said.

“It’s me,” Alex answered.

“Is he okay?” June asked immediately.

“I—I don’t know,” Alex said, his voice cracking. “June.”

“Tell me what you need,” June said. “Pez is already on his way there. Nora vetted those guards back to the stoneage, and we can get more out there if you need them. We’re trying to get a hold of Bea right now, but she’s in the Alps with Krister and they’re not answering. We don’t want to reach out through official channels.”

“Don’t,” Alex said. The one and only thing he was sure of right now was that the chances of Mary not being behind this were slim to none. No one else hated him enough. Alex could not begin to fathom why she wouldn’t have just killed Henry, but that didn’t change the fact that it had to have been her. Why else had there never been a ransom? Why, and how, else had there been an actual plane crash, and maybe murder depending on what happened to the pilots of that plane? “When you get a hold of her, tell her to get the f*ck out of Europe. Tell her to come to you.”

“Okay,” June said.

“I’ve gotta go,” Alex told her when one of the nurses came over. He hung up before she could say anything. “How is he?”

“Stable,” the nurse said. “He’s going to need surgery on his hand, and we’ve paged a surgeon to come in and take a look, but we need to get him rehydrated before we can do that. His breathing isn’t great right now either. Do you know how long he was exposed to the smoke?”

Alex shook his head. “This is a…complicated situation. But I believe he has been held prisoner for an extended period of time. He’s got some signs of old injuries that he didn’t have prior to when he disappeared over five years ago, when he was last seen, and no one has heard from him since then.”

“Are you a friend, then?” The nurse asked. “Can you give us his medical history? His name?”

Alex swallowed, trying to figure out what to do. All it would take was one wayward Tweet and the whole world would know Henry was here. Mary would know he was here.

“For now, his name is John Doe,” Alex said. “But I can give you his medical history.”

The nurse seemed a little wary, but Alex just looked at her pleadingly until she gave in. Alex gave her Henry’s medical history.

“Okay. We’re running some bloodwork on him as well, so until that comes back and the surgeon takes a look, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern,” the nurse said. “If you want to get close to him again, though, I’m gonna need you to get cleaned up. You’re an infection risk covered in all that soot and sweat. We’ve got a nurse’s break area just down the hall with a shower, and I can grab you a set of visitor scrubs.”

Alex balked at the idea of leaving Henry alone, but he knew she was right. He needed to get cleaned up. The guards were here, at least, and Alex trusted that Nora had vetted them. Besides, he’d only be just down the hall.

“If he wakes up, you come get me immediately,” Alex said.

The nurse nodded and led him to a large vending machine. She swiped her badge and punched in a string of numbers. The machine whirred, then spat out a plastic bag containing a folded set of black scrubs. Alex dashed into the shower, practically ripping off his clothes as he did. There was a loofa and various shower products in there, thankfully. Soot didn’t come off without a fair amount of scrubbing. He went as quickly as he could while still being thorough, drying off using a towel he found before slipping into the scrubs and back into his boots.

Back out on the floor, he went straight to Henry’s bedside and scanned his eyes up and down Henry’s body. Henry was still out, still had an IV trailing from his chest, and an oxygen mask over his face, but there was some color back in his cheeks now. Someone had washed him off a little as well, and his hand had been rebandaged.

Alex reached out and tentatively ran his knuckles lightly down Henry’s cheek. Part of his brain expected his hand to go right through, to find that Henry was just a ghost and this was just a dream. But Henry was solid and real and warm. He was real. He was alive, and he was right here.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby,” Alex whispered. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you.”

“Yes, doctor, I understand, thank you again for your time.”

Alex’s head snapped up at the unexpected but familiar voice. If he hadn’t just heard it a couple days earlier, he wouldn’t have noticed it now. But he did notice, and a quick visual sweep of the area revealed Philip down the hall, heading for the exit doors. He had on sunglasses, a baseball cap, and a hoodie, two plain-clothes guards trailing behind him. The same ones from the other night.

“Do not let anyone near him,” Alex ordered Maso before taking off after Philip.

Somehow the guards didn’t see Alex coming before Alex managed to grab Philip and slam him against the wall, both fists twisted up in the front of Philip’s hoodie.

“Did you know?” Alex growled. All his fear and worry and confusion and narrowed down to a single point of blinding rage. If Philip had known, if Alex found out he’d had any idea at all that this might be going on, Alex was going to kill him. Especially after Philip had seemed so open the other night about how much he missed Henry.

“Alex?” Philip coughed, waving off his guards. “Jesus. Know what? What are you doing?”

“Did you know?!” Alex said, voice getting louder.

Some other people had taken notice now but no one was doing anything. Alex ignored all of them.

“I don’t know what the f*ck you’re talking about. Get your damn hands off me,” Philip shot back.

Alex growled again and let go of Philip’s hoodie, grabbing him by the arm instead. He hauled him down the hall until Henry was visible.

“Did. You. Know?”

Philip’s eyes went wide and he looked back and forth between Henry and Alex several times, going paler and paler with each glance. If he had any doubt that it was really his brother in that hospital bed, Alex’s reaction was more than enough to get rid of that doubt.

“Is he okay?” Philip finally choked out.

“Did. You. Know?”

“Tell me if he’s okay!” Philip begged.

“Tell me if you knew!” Alex snapped.

“No, god, no. What is happening? Is he okay?”

Alex searched Philip’s face, finding nothing there but a reflection of his own naked terror and confusion. He finally dropped Philip’s arm. “He’s got a serious injury to his left hand, and he’s suffering from prolonged exposure to the wildfire smoke and serious dehydration. Plus whatever the f*ck has been happening to him the last five-and-a-half years.”

Philip turned around to his guards. “Give me your phones, now.”

They both glanced at one another, but reluctantly handed their phones over. Philip dropped both and stomped on them which Alex thought was a pretty dramatic move but he wasn’t going to object.

“You don’t leave my sight,” Philip ordered. He turned back to Alex. “We need guards here for Henry—”

“I already have them. My sisters took care of it. They’ve been vetted.”

“Bea—”

“We’re working on getting a hold of her, but she wasn’t answering earlier. She’s on vacation right now and might not have her phone on.”

Philip nodded, his whole body shaking slightly. He took a tentative step towards Henry and when Alex didn’t stop him, went over to Henry’s bed with Alex following. Philip reached out and stroked Henry’s face the same way Alex had.

“Why is he unconscious?” Philip asked, turning back to Alex while one hand came to rest on Henry’s shoulder.

“His body is pretty overwhelmed right now,” Alex said. “Not only because of what happened, but because he’s now getting treatment for it. Treatment is overwhelming in and of itself, even when it’s helping.”

“What did happen?” Philip asked.

Alex looked over at Philip’s guards. “Back off but stay within sight.”

“You heard him,” Philip said.

They listened, walking away slightly. Alex lowered his voice and explained everything, including his suspicions that Mary had to be involved.

Philip frowned, his eyes going back and forth like he was trying to figure something out. “A few months ago…she made some comment about wanting to ‘finish up that business from five years ago.’ I asked her what she meant and she said ‘that mess your brother made.’ But when I tried to press for more she wouldn’t respond. It was late and she was pretty lost in her head, so I figured I’d try again in the morning. But then the next day we had to rush James to the hospital. I just…I forgot she’d said anything at all. f*ck.”

Alex’s jaw tightened and he swallowed, trying to tamp down his rage. There was nothing that could be done about it now, not in this moment anyway.

“We need to get him out of here before she finds out that he’s here,” Philip said, voice shaking just slightly. “Back onto U.S. soil, preferably. He’ll be safer there.”

“No sh*t. How long can you keep Mary distracted in Scotland?” Alex asked.

“As long as needed,” Philip answered, rolling his shoulders like he’d found some resolve.

“Then go do it. Leave Henry to me and f*cking handle her,” Alex ordered, anger leaking into his voice.

Philip looked reluctant, but he finally nodded. “Just keep him safe. I know you will, but…just keep him safe, Alex.”

He took one last long look at Henry, gently squeezed his shoulder, then walked away.

Almost as soon as Philip was gone Miguel, Ripper, Lightning, and Joshua came rushing in. They stopped a few feet away when a nurse glared them into submission, and Alex had to resist the urge to go up to them. They were just as dirty as he’d been earlier.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Miguel said.

Alex nodded. “I think so. He needs surgery on his hand, and we’re still waiting on bloodwork but he’s stable.” That was just the physical stuff, though. Alex was trying to not think about the rest of it right now. One problem at a time.

Alex’s heart was still racing, but the presence of his closest friends, his crew, made it finally start to slow down. He trusted each and every one of them with his life, and with Henry’s. As long as they were around, Alex felt safe. He’d take them over official guards any day, vetted by Nora or not.

“What can we do?” Miguel asked.

“Just be here,” Alex said, voice cracking.

Miguel nodded. “You’ve got us.”

“Where’s Lauren and Noah?” Alex asked.

“They stayed behind in camp to pack up our stuff. The rest of us drove out to a little airfield and I used your creditcard to get us a private flight into Sydney,” Miguel explained.

Alex loved all of them so damn much. He’d never been more grateful than he was in that moment that he’d made the decision to join this crew. That he’d let Nate talk him into it. Not only because he wouldn’t have been here to save Henry if he hadn’t, but because he had no clue how he could’ve handled it without all of them at his back.

Chapter 29: BONUS SCENE 3

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

SUNDAY

BONUS SCENE

MIGUEL

Miguel paid the cab driver and got out, heading for the hospital doors, the others on his heels. He’d spent the last hours liaising with Alex’s sister and her wife, trying to figure out what the hell was going on and what they needed to do. Nora was busy trying to keep any and all information on what was happening on lockdown while June was working out the logistics of getting Henry back into the U.S. as legally as possible. Alex’s parents were now involved as well and Miguel had to admit, this was not a family whose bad side he ever wanted to end up on. If they wanted to get something done, they were gonna get it done.

He was brought up short in his dash towards the doors when he saw a harried looking man striding towards them, cellphone plastered to his ear. Prince Philip. Miguel had never actually seen the guy up close until the other night, and that hadn’t been that close. But he was sure it was him.

“Philip,” he said, stepping in front of the prince to cut him off.

Philip had been so engrossed in whatever was going on with his phone that he nearly ran into Miguel before he managed to almost trip to a stop.

“Who are you?” Philip asked.

“Friends of Alex,” Miguel replied. That was probably pretty obvious, given they were here and still in their nomex clothing and covered in soot.

Philip shot a look at the two men he was with, both of whom looked passively disinterested in the whole affair. Philip motioned for them to step back a ways and they did.

“I know,” Philip said. “I’ve just spoken with Alex inside. We’re handling it.”

“Good,” Miguel replied. He took a step closer, getting into Philip’s face and not caring that the guy had a good few inches on him. He whispered the next part to be sure the guards wouldn’t hear. “Because Alex is my brother. And that means Henry is too. So if I find out you were involved in this in any way, or if you do anything to hurt either of them now, you can consider your own death the least of your worries.” He knew the others were behind him, backing up his threat.

Philip nodded. “Understood. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go figure out how to keep my grandmother occupied and my family safe until we can figure out how to handle this.”

Miguel held eye contact a moment longer, then stepped out of Philip’s way to let him pass.

When they found Alex inside, he was sitting in a chair next to Henry’s bed, eyes flicking between Henry’s face and the monitors Henry was hooked up to. Alex was in a set of black scrubs, his whole body tense. Henry appeared to still be unconscious.

“We cycle out getting cleaned up, Alex and Henry don’t get left alone,” Miguel whispered to the others. They all nodded.

It took two tries to get Alex’s attention and get an update on what was going on, then Miguel went to use the offered shower. When he came back Alex had changed into his own clothes, provided by Ripper, but other than that nothing had changed. Miguel grabbed another chair and pulled it up next to Alex’s, resting a hand on Alex’s back.

“Hey,” Miguel said softly.

Alex closed his eyes, swallowing heavily and starting to shake under Miguel’s hand. Miguel pulled Alex into a hug, rubbing his back.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Alex mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter,” Miguel said. “He’s alive, he’s safe with you. We’ll figure it out.”

Alex nodded, finally pulling away after several minutes. Miguel kept rubbing his back as Alex’s attention shifted back to Henry.

Chapter 30: Waking Up

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

MONDAY

ALEX

Henry was in and out of consciousness over the next few hours, but he never really woke up entirely. The surgeon determined that only local anesthetic was needed to treat his hand, which was a relief. Alex didn’t like the idea of Henry being whisked off to a full surgical suite where he couldn’t follow to keep an eye on him. Henry’s hand would be alright, though there was a chance there might be some nerve damage on the pinky side. Only time would tell. After his hand was stitched up they’d transferred Henry to a private room, which was also a relief. Alex didn’t feel quite so jumpy with only one way in and out of the room.

By the time Pez showed up, though, Alex was fighting not to pass out from exhaustion. Miguel had tried to coax him into sleeping, offering to watch over Henry while Alex got some rest. But it wasn’t watching over Henry that made Alex not want to go to sleep. He was worried about what would happen when Henry woke up. He wanted someone there that Henry knew, and Henry didn’t know Miguel.

“f*ck,” Pez said, hovering in the doorway, eyes wide.

Alex, sitting in a chair next to Henry’s bed—the one that put him between Henry and the door—nodded. He didn’t say anything, because what was there to say?

Pez came into the room slowly, eyes jumping all over from Henry’s heavily bandaged hand to the bruises on his face, to the oxygen tube under his nose, to the IV that had been moved to his right arm. Tears gathered in Pez’s eyes and he went around to the other side of the bed and gently took Henry’s uninjured hand.

Pez finally turned his attention to Alex after another couple minutes. “Has he woken up yet?”

Alex shook his head. “Not really. But he’s doing a lot better.”

Pez nodded, falling heavily into the chair on that side without letting go of Henry’s hand. “Does he know you’re here?”

“I don’t think so,” Alex said.

“How do we fix this?” Pez whispered, a few tears finally falling.

“We keep him safe until we can get him somewhere actually safe, and then we go from there,” Alex answered. “Honestly, right now, I don’t really give a damn about how this happened or why. I just want him safe.” All his anger had evaporated at this point. He could be angry later. Right now, he was just worried.

Between them Henry shifted on the bed slightly, his eyes moving around under his eyelids. Alex glanced at the monitors to the side of the bed, trying to discern if Henry was waking up or just dreaming. He’d been trying to figure out what he was supposed to do when Henry woke up, what he was supposed to say, but he’d been coming up completely blank.

Henry’s pulse started to pick up slightly, and he shifted around some more, a small, distressed sound escaping his lips.

“Hey, hey,” Alex said, standing up to lean over Henry. He initially reached out to cup Henry’s face, but stopped halfway and rested his hand on Henry’s shoulder instead. He didn’t know what Henry would be okay with right now, and he didn’t want to push it too far, but he did want to get Henry’s attention to try and wake him up from whatever nightmare was causing him distress. “Henry, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Pez was standing now too, looking between Alex and and the monitors and Henry. “Should I get—”

Henry’s eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright with a huge gasp that made him start coughing. Alex caught him instinctively, trying to keep him steady. Henry flinched away and Alex pulled his hands back as Henry continued to cough and gasp.

“Henry, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Alex said. “It’s me. It’s Alex, and Pez. You’re safe, you’re safe.”

Henry looked at both of them, but Alex got the sense he wasn’t quite seeing them. A quick glance at the monitor showed that Henry’s O2 stats had dropped slightly from how hard he was fighting to breathe.

Alex held his hands up so Henry could see that he wasn’t about to do anything without Henry being aware of it. “Henry, I need you to try and slow your breathing down, okay? I’m going to walk you through some breathing exercises to help, alright?”

Henry managed a tiny, shaky nod. Alex took him through the exercises a few times until Henry’s breathing finally started to regulate, and his O2 stats went back up.

“Alex?” Henry said finally. His voice was painfully raspy and his eyes were wide and red, continually darting around the room.

“Yeah,” Alex said. “Pez is going to get you some water, okay?” Alex gestured over towards the little sink and paper cups without breaking eye contact with Henry. “Just take a few small sips, it will help your throat.”

Henry did, and it did seem to help somewhat. He stopped shaking quite as much, at least. When he finished the water he closed his eyes and put his head on his knees. Alex glanced at Pez over Henry’s back, finding him looking as confused and worried as Alex felt.

“Henry—” Alex tried, keeping his voice low and gentle.

“Please leave,” Henry said, his voice so quiet Alex almost didn’t hear him.

“Henry—” Pez said, only to be cut off as well.

“I can’t—I can’t lose you a second time, Alex. Please just go.”

“What—”

Alex held up his hand to stop Pez, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I can go. You stay with him.”

Pez looked completely lost as Alex retreated from the room, and Henry remained curled up on the bed. It took everything Alex had not to fall to pieces within Henry’s view, but the second the door closed behind him he nearly fell against the wall. He probably would have if Miguel hadn’t been there and caught him.

“Alex?” Miguel said, voice full of alarm. “What’s wrong? Is Henry okay?”

“He asked me to leave,” Alex said, collapsing into a chair in the hallway. “He asked me to leave.”

“Alex,” Miguel said. He no longer sounded alarmed, just deeply sad.

Alex curled in on himself, clasping his hands behind his neck as he tried not to breakdown into full on sobs. “I don’t care that he asked me to leave. I just—I just need him to be okay. Even if it’s not with me. I just need him to be okay and he’s not and he looked so f*cking scared.”

Miguel was sitting next to him now and rubbing his back again. He didn’t say anything, just held onto Alex as they both waited to see what would happen now.

HENRY

The door closed behind Alex, but Henry stayed exactly as he was. When he’d realized Alex was standing right there, he’d had to fight every instinct in himself not to just fall into Alex’s arms and cling to him. But he couldn’t do that. He’d already accepted that he’d lost Alex, and if he let himself give in for even a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it when Alex left.

Henry still wasn’t even really sure what was going on. The last thing he remembered was being in the house, cuffed to the radiator, and after that things got fuzzy. There was a lot of wind. Enough to blow the gates open. He sort of remembered pulling so hard on the cuffs that he hurt his hand. And fire. Had there been fire? There was something about a floorboard too. He thought he might’ve pulled one up and used to leverage the part of the cuffs around the radiator somehow. And a truck. He thought he might’ve been in a truck at some point, with someone leaning over him. But that was it. Just a bunch of fuzzy snapshots that didn’t fit together well.

“Henry,” Pez said, one hand resting feather-light on Henry’s arm.

“Mmm.”

“What did you mean you don’t want to lose Alex a second time?”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, but why would you lose him at all? He’s right here?” Pez’s voice was as light and gentle as his hand. Like Henry was breakable. He probably was, to be fair.

Henry didn’t think he should have to spell it out for Pez. It should’ve been obvious. “I’m not going to shove myself back in his life. He’s got a wife and a daughter and—”

“Woah, woah,” Pez interrupted, voice getting a little more earnest. “No he doesn’t. No wife, no kid. He’s never been married at all. He’s been on two dates in the last five years that I know of, and that’s it.”

Henry finally looked up, searching Pez’s face to make sure he was telling the truth. “But…there was a newspaper article…and a picture of them.”

“I don’t know what you saw, Henry, but whatever it was wasn’t real,” Pez said. “Alex is not married, he does not have a kid, and he still utterly adores you. If you let him come back in here, I promise you will not lose him. Hell, I doubt he’ll ever let you out of his sight again after this.”

Pez didn’t look like he was lying, and Henry didn’t see any reason that he would be. But he just couldn’t shake the memory of that picture. The newspaper had felt real. There were other articles on the back that had been cut off when the article about Alex and his fiancé had been cut out. It read like a real article.

“Let me go get him,” Pez said. “Please, let me go get him and you two can talk and figure this out.”

Henry couldn’t do this.

Henry wanted to do this. He wanted Alex so bad.

“Okay.”

Pez went over to the door and opened it, stepping outside for a minute before coming back in with Alex right behind him. Alex’s eyes were red like he’d been crying, and he stayed hovering near the door while Pez came back over.

“I’m not married, Henry,” Alex said. “I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t real.”

Looking at Alex was hard, the risk of loss hovering right there the whole time. “But…the picture looked…it looked real.”

“Tell me about it,” Alex said. “Maybe I can help it make sense if you tell me more.”

Henry swallowed, then described what he could remember of the picture. It had been taken back by the guards, so he’d only seen it the one time, but it had been burned into his memory anyway. The happy smile on Alex’s face. The sweet looking woman with long, wavy black hair. The giggling little baby in Alex’s arms.

“f*ck,” Alex muttered. “Hang on.” He pulled out his phone and swiped around before holding it out to Henry with a picture on the screen, taking a few steps closer so Henry could see it was a picture of a woman and a little baby. “Is this them?”

Henry’s heart dropped, but he nodded.

“Eloisa is not my wife,” Alex said, a gentle force behind his words. “She’s—we volunteer at the same place. Her husband died when she was pregnant, just before we met. We got close, really close, because of grief. But we have never even gone on a single date. She’s like a sister to me, and her daughter is my niece. I swear on my life, Henry, I am not involved with Eloisa in any way, shape, or form. I’m not involved with anyone.”

Henry wanted to believe it. But he’d given up. He’d given up on ever having Alex again and now, the idea of having him felt just as overwhelming as the idea of not having him, and he felt trapped between the two. His whole body ached and his head was spinning and he didn’t know what to do.

“Henry,” Alex said, taking another tentative step forward after putting his phone away. “I’m right here. However you want me to be, I’m here. If you need a little space to figure things out, that’s okay. If you need me to just be here as a friend, that’s okay. But if you want me to be here as more than that, I can. The most important thing right now is that you feel safe, so whatever I need to do to make that happen, I’ll do it.”

Henry couldn’t stop the tears that started to fall from his eyes. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Alex said. “I promise. Whatever we need to do to get through this, we’ll do it.”

“I’m…broken,” Henry said, no idea how else to put it. Why would Alex even want him anymore, married or not?

“Me too,” Alex replied. “We can figure it out.” He held out a hand to Henry, leaving the choice of closing the gap up to him.

Henry stared at Alex’s hand, fighting against all the confusion and exhaustion in his mind to try and figure out what he wanted to do. He wanted to reach out and take Alex’s hand. But he was still so f*cking scared that it wouldn’t last. But he wanted it. He wanted it so damn bad.

When he did finally reach out and brush his fingers over Alex’s, Alex immediately slid forward and wrapped his arms tight around Henry, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Henry’s head. It felt like the whole world dropped away as Henry started to sob, clinging to Alex just a hard as Alex was clinging to him. It was everything he needed and everything he’d imagined after the guards had left him in the house to die. Alex’s arms fit around him exactly like they always had, anchoring him into the present.

Alex was rocking him gently, murmuring words Henry couldn’t make out into his hair and, for the first time in almost six years, Henry felt safe.

Chapter 31: Going Home

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

TUESDAY

ALEX

It had taken a little coaxing, but Alex had eventually convinced Henry to lay back down, sliding in next to him. Henry had passed back out pretty much immediately, shoved as close to Alex as he could get, and Alex had followed not long after. He woke up to a dark, quiet room, Henry’s head tucked under his. The familiarity of it made him start to cry again, quietly. This was real. Henry was here, and alive. He wasn’t okay—far from it, Alex was realizing. But he was alive and even though it had been hard, he’d managed to let Alex back in just enough to start helping.

When Pez had come out and told Alex why Henry had asked him to leave, Alex had just been confused. But when Henry had explained, and Alex had realized what had happened, he was furious. This hadn’t been some tabloid rumor. A rumor that serious, someone in his family would’ve told him about it, no matter his avoidance of the news. Which meant it could’ve only happened one way. Mary had fabricated the whole thing, newspaper and all, which, aside from furious, also made Alex a little sick to his stomach. How dare Mary use his relationship with Eloisa to manipulate Henry? And where the f*ck had she even gotten the picture to do so? Had she been stalking him? He didn’t post on social media anymore, let alone pictures involving other people’s kids. It was just another question to add to the pile of thousands that he wanted answered.

Henry stirred against him and Alex squeezed him gently, whispering, “I’m here.”

Henry pulled away slightly, looking blearily at Alex through the dark. Alex reached out and gently straightened the oxygen tube under his nose.

“You know, that thing is rather helpful when it comes to having my face shoved into your chest all night,” Henry said, voice still raspy.

Alex blinked, completely caught off guard by the statement, then choked on a laugh. A small smile quirked up the corner of Henry’s lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” Alex said.

“Just an observation.”

Alex sighed contentedly, trailing his fingers over Henry’s cheek. Henry closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the touch, so Alex let his hand settle there fully, running his thumb back and forth over Henry’s skin. Henry opened his eyes again and they just lay there for awhile, watching one another.

“What day is it?” Henry asked after awhile.

Alex realized he wasn’t actually sure at this point. Lifting his hip he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked, showing Henry the screen so he could see for himself.

“You were rescued a couple days ago,” Alex said. He’d decided to leave out the details of that rescue for now, at least until he had a better idea of how Henry might take all the backstory that went with it. Without the backstory the explanation of his rescue wouldn’t make any sense, but that backstory would probably be a little—if not a lot—overwhelming right now.

Henry nodded, gaze going a little vacant. “Who knows I’m here?”

“At the moment, only people I one-hundred-percent trust. June, Nora, Bea, Pez, my parents, and a few others. And Philip, who I about ninety-percent trust at this point. But if you tell me he was involved in any way, shape, or form, I will one-thousand-percent believe you and cut him out of this entirely,” Alex said.

Henry was quiet for a long moment, his unbandaged hand fiddling with a button on Alex’s shirt. Alex had his own clothes back, thankfully, so he wasn’t stuck in the scrubs anymore.

“I don’t know if he was involved. I never…saw any sign that he was,” Henry said. “I don’t know. If you trust him right now…I trust you.”

Alex could see Henry shutting down, mentally pulling back from the conversation. It reminded him so much of when they’d first met. Back when Henry had spent almost every waking moment behind a mask. Except now, Alex knew him well enough that no amount of mask could hide Henry’s feelings from him.

“What can I do, Henry?” Alex asked, still lightly stroking his face.

Henry opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head and leaned forward to tuck his head back under Alex’s. Alex pulled him in, tangling his hand in Henry’s hair and kissing the top of his head. Henry’s hair wasn’t much longer than he’d usually kept it, though the cut was less styled.

“My whole body hurts,” Henry said after a minute. “My head feels like it’s full of cotton, and I just…I just can’t right now.”

“Yeah, you kind of went through it. That wildfire smoke alone did a number on you, and major dehydration and some blood loss on top of that didn’t help,” Alex said. “But you’re going to be okay. I can explain it more, if you want, or we can deal with that later.”

“Later,” Henry mumbled.

“Okay.” Alex pulled his hand down to rub Henry’s back, trying to give him a break.

“Alex?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to be here anymore. In Australia. I don’t want to be in Australia anymore.”

That Alex could do. “We’ve already got a flight arranged. Nora took care of it. The doctors are still a little touchy about discharging you, but they’re just kind of touchy about all of this right now. You’re clear to go, as long as we make sure to have oxygen support on the plane just in case, and you’ll have an inhaler too.” Plus a couple certified EMTs, but that was once again backstory for later.

“Then can we go?”

“Yeah. Are you okay with being on a plane?” Alex had been a little worried about that. Planes had been involved in this somehow, even if Henry hadn’t actually been on the one that crashed.

Henry nodded against Alex’s chest.

“Okay. One other thing, then.” Alex took a deep breath. “Where do you want to go? Because…I sold the brownstone.”

Henry pulled back with a sigh. “I know. Or, I guess maybe I don’t know. You live in Texas now, right?”

Alex nodded. “In a little town called Colinas Pérdidas, a couple hours northwestish of Austin. Henry, I’m sorry I sold it.” He’d been kicking himself for that almost since they’d gotten to the hospital.

Henry shook his head, though. “It’s okay. I loved the brownstone. I loved what we had there. But…I think going back now would’ve felt…weird. Like stepping back in time. I think it’s better to just let that chapter be closed. Closed and happy.”

Alex relaxed a little. “Okay. Well, it’s up to you, then. Pez lives in Denver now, with Nora and June, if you’d rather go there instead. My place is…” Alex sighed, working up to the other issue he’d identified with his current living arrangements when it came to figuring out what to do next. “My place is kind of isolated, Henry. I’ve got a ranch on about sixty-five acres, and the house sits towards the middle of the property.”

“Oh.” Henry was fiddling with the buttons on Alex’s shirt again. “How far out of town is it?”

“About thirty minutes,” Alex said. “The closest neighbor is about five minutes, once you’re off the property and on the main road.”

“I think that’s okay, then,” Henry said.

“Yeah?”

Henry nodded, not meeting Alex’s eyes for what he said next. “I could walk that. I’m not saying I intend to, but knowing I could…” he swallowed and didn’t elaborate further.

Alex’s anger came surging back at the statement. He really just wanted to punt Mary off a cliff at this point. But that wasn’t his part of the problem to deal with. He needed to stay focused on Henry and let the rest be handled by everyone else.

“Besides,” Henry said after a moment. “I don’t actually love the idea of being back in a busy city right now. I think that would be too much.”

Alex couldn’t argue with that. “Colinas Pérdidas it is then. The doctor will need to come check you over one last time, then we can leave and head to the airport, okay?”

“Can you drive?” Henry asked.

If Alex’s heart kept constricting like this, it was going to give out. “Yeah, of course. Are you okay with having private security on the flight with us? Nora vetted them.” Alex had also asked Miguel if he’d be willing to act as security for now, at least around Henry. Alex wanted Miguel there, but he hadn’t been sure about explaining that to Henry just yet. Miguel had said he was more than happy to do it, and understood why Alex wanted to do it that way.

Henry thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay.” Alex kissed the top of Henry’s head one more time, then slid out of the bed, turning on the closest lamp as he did. He stayed close, hitting the button to summon a nurse and requesting they be allowed to leave. She said she’d fetch the doctor.

Alex sent a quick text to Miguel to coordinate what was happening, then turned his attention back to Henry. He’d sat up in bed and was examining his bandaged hand in the lamplight.

“It will heal,” Alex said gently. “There’s a chance for some nerve damage on the pinky side, but we just have to wait and see. Physical therapy will help.”

Henry nodded.

“Do you want to call Bea really quick before we head out?” Alex asked. They’d finally gotten in touch with her awhile ago, and the general impression Alex got was that Krister had had to physically restrain her from going to Scotland and just stabbing Mary. Not that Alex didn’t agree with the sentiment, but if she’d done that she would’ve been arrested and then once they’d bailed her out international travel probably would’ve been out of the question for quite awhile. So no stabbing allowed, no matter how justified it might’ve been.

Henry looked up at Alex, a glimmer of fear in his eyes again. “Is she…okay?”

Alex reached out and put an arm around Henry’s shoulders. “Yes, yes, she’s fine. She never relapsed. She actually moved in with June for awhile right after everything happened, and I think that helped a lot. She just got engaged, too.”

Henry visibly relaxed, tension melting out of his shoulders. “Yeah?”

Alex nodded. He didn’t want to reveal too much—Bea deserved to tell Henry about her life herself—but Alex could tell Henry needed this. “His name is Krister. He’s an Olympic archer from Sweden. Great guy. Utterly adores her, and she’s completely smitten. We’re all shocked they didn’t just run off to Vegas and seal the deal on day one.”

It was small, but the smile that spread across Henry’s face was the first really genuine one not tinged by sadness or exhaustion that Alex had seen so far. It didn’t last long, though.

“Is…is my mom really gone?”

There went his heart again. Alex couldn’t imagine the whiplash confusion Henry must be feeling finding out that at least some of what he’d been told wasn’t true, and how that must taint everything else.

“I’m so sorry, Henry,” Alex said. What he didn’t say was that he’d had Nora look into exactly that. Unfortunately, there was plenty of proof that she was indeed gone. Lots of press coverage of her time in the hospital, coroners reports, open casket photos.

Henry took a shaky breath, closed his eyes, and leaned into Alex. They didn’t say anything else until the doctor came in a moment later and checked Henry over. He gave them the all clear, had them sign some paperwork, then a nurse came in with a wheelchair. Henry had been given sweats and a baggy t-shirt by the hospital, and Pez had gone out and gotten him some hard-soled slippers and a light coat.

Pez walked out with them while Alex wheeled the chair, and two of the security guards followed. Miguel was waiting at the car with the other guard, and handed the keys off to Alex, saying they’d be right behind them in another car. The rest of the crew were flying back commercial later in the day.

Henry kept his eyes closed the whole drive to the airport, head resting against the window. When they got on the plane Henry went straight to the couch and laid down. Alex went with him, pulling a blanket from an overhead bin and tucking it over Henry before lifting his head and sliding in to sit under it. Henry snuggled closer, bringing his hand up to rest on Alex’s thigh as Alex lightly ran his fingers through the hair at Henry’s temple.

Before sleep caught up with him again, Alex texted back and forth with his parents and Nate, trying to coordinate everything that he wanted to happen. Nate and Eloisa were bringing his truck to the airport in Austin, his mom and Leo were pulling the necessary strings to get Henry into the country despite being a dead man with no documents, and his dad had gone to the ranch to do a bunch of things Alex had asked to get the house ready. Alex kept thinking of more things, even as exhaustion chased him. He had to give in eventually, putting the phone away and letting his head fall against the back of the couch, hand still in Henry’s hair.

When they landed and got in the truck, Henry was a little more alert, looking around with an amused smile. “Are you sure you don’t live in here?”

“Shhh,” Alex said. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Ignore the piles of fast food wrappers. It’s fine.”

It was probably a good thing that they’d landed in the dark so Henry couldn’t see the full extent of what the inside of Alex’s truck looked like. The truth was, he’d been stupidly busy in the weeks leading up to going to Australia, even before they’d decided to go. A bunch of his court cases had seen sudden movements all at once, then he’d had to rearrange some other ones to be able to make the two week trip to Australia at all. But all of that fell into the growing category of “too much to explain right now.”

Also, too be fair, it looked like Nate or Eloisa had cleaned the truck out somewhat. There was actually room to sit in the passenger seat, for one thing. And the passenger footwell was not filled up with the two hat boxes that had been there previously (neither of which had hats in them, just a bunch of knick knacks he’d been meaning to drop at the thrift store but hadn’t gotten around to dropping off).

“Why Colinas Pérdidas?” Henry asked as they pulled out of the airport.

Alex chose his words carefully. “Well, I was working at a big firm in Austin for about a year after I graduated. But after awhile I realized I hated it. All the cases were huge and unwieldy and it took too damn long to see results. So I decided to move into something smaller, and I found a firm in Colinas Pérdidas that I liked a lot. They, we, focus on immigration and discrimination cases. I asked them if they’d be willing to take me on and they said yes, so I bought the ranch and moved out there.”

Henry smiled from the passenger seat. “That sounds like you.”

Alex glanced at him. “Oh?”

“Mmmhm. Always so determined to help people. And impatient.”

Alex felt himself smiling, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Henry’s reasoning for his lack of surprise at that would extend to Alex’s other activities over the last few years. That was another topic for later, though, and definitely not one for when they were driving.

They pulled up to the driveway a few hours before sunrise. A large RV had been parked just inside the gate. Alex stopped and pointed at it. “Security is in there. Cash retired from the Secret Service last year, but he agreed to come and head our private security team for now, while we get things sorted out. He and his team installed cameras around the perimeter, but that’s it. They won’t be at the house unless we invite them up. Also, this is the only entrance to the property. The rest is fenced. There’s a couple other gates, but they’re all locked.”

Henry nodded and Alex set the truck back in motion, winding up the driveway. The house was lit, but Alex knew it was empty.

“It’s a beautiful house, Alex,” Henry said, peering out the window as Alex rolled the truck up to the front.

“Okay, about that,” Alex said with a chuckle. “It is, shall we say, a work in progress. I bought it specifically because it was a bit of a fixer upper, because I needed something to do with myself when I wasn’t working. And I have fixed a lot, but not everything.” Alex pointed out the truck to the other side, at the old horse barn. He’d had to build a new one when he got his own horses. “Especially that. The former owner was a ninety-something antiquer, and he had so much in that barn. I’ve still only made it through about half.”

Henry eyed the barn with just a glimmer of interest shining through the heaviness on his face. Alex knew that barn was exactly the sort of thing Henry and his love of museums would adore digging through, when he was ready for it. Alex wished he’d not emptied it at all now. Not that there wasn’t still plenty for Henry to explore. The barn was twenty by thirty feet, and two stories tall, after all.

“Inside the house is mostly done,” Alex continued. “Except for the bathroom with the cat carved into the bottom of the door, and two of the back bedrooms, plus some other odds and ends.”

Henry turned his attention away from the barn and looked back at Alex. “Why is there a cat carved into the bottom of the bathroom door?”

“The former owner got his income from antiques, but his hobby was woodcarving,” Alex said. “There’s neat little details all over the house.”

This was exactly what Alex had wanted when he first moved in, he remembered. To be able to share all these little slices of history with Henry. The fact that Henry looked even a little excited about those things gave Alex hope that they could get through this, one way or another.

“Let’s head in,” Alex said, finally turning the truck off.

Henry got out and followed Alex up the front steps onto the porch, Alex unlocking the door and holding his breath. He knew the next moment was going to be a lot.

Henry stepped inside and instantly his eyes went wide. “David?”

David, who had been snoozing on the couch with Freddie, perked right up, turning his attention to Henry and Alex. He sniffed the air a couple times, then let out a loud bark, vaulting off the couch, doggy ramp forgotten, and bolted toward Henry, continuing to bark like mad. Henry fell to his knees and pulled his arm out of the sling it was in to prevent swelling, wrapping his arms around David as he jumped all over him, licking at Henry’s face.

“Hi buddy, hi,” Henry said, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes.

Alex came and sat next to them, trying to resist the urge to cry himself.

“How is he?” Henry asked.

David was indeed getting older, especially for a beagle. But he wasn’t a purebred beagle, which probably did him some favors. He’d gone gray around the muzzle, but otherwise didn’t show too many signs of his age.

“He’s got some arthritis in his hips,” Alex said. “But he’s on meds for it and they help a ton. He’s also on a special diet now.”

Freddie, clearly feeling ignored, gave a big stretch and then hopped to the floor with a thud that rivaled David’s and strode over.

“Who’s this?” Henry asked, holding a hand out for Freddie to sniff while David continued to wiggle up against him.

“Freddie,” Alex said.

Henry looked at Alex with slightly narrowed eyes and a badly suppressed smile. “That’s a boring name for a cat.”

Alex could barely hold back his smile either. “As in Freddie Mercury.”

Henry let out the smallest little chuckle, his smile going wider, which made Alex start laughing with joy too. After a moment they were both laughing and leaning into one another for a hug.

“Come on,” Alex said, gently tugging Henry up from the floor after a minute and leading him over to the kitchen. Henry’s eyes roved all over as they walked, taking everything in. Alex was glad he’d finished up the courtyard this summer. Even though it was winter here it was still a nice space now, not an overgrown pile of weeds in the middle of the home. He’d even fixed up the pond and it gurgled happily, several goldfish and frogs calling it home. (The frogs had been Ines’s idea.)

Henry’s eyes came to rest on the one thing Alex realized he’d forgotten about. The old phone niche that he’d turned into a small memorial to Henry. It had a few more things than when Alex had first set it up, and the votive candle with Saint David on the glass only had a couple inches left at the bottom. Alex wasn’t sure what to do as Henry went over and brushed his fingers lightly over everything, so he just stayed quiet, watching Henry’s back.

“What saint is this?” Henry asked, picking up the candle.

“The patron saint of poets. And Wales,” Alex said. “Ironically, his name is Saint David.” Alex had never heard of that particular saint before he’d set up this memorial, and when he’d found him it had all just felt so perfectly aligned. Alex was still barely, barely religious. But something about the saints had always clicked for him more than any other aspect of Catholicism. Some phantom in the sky felt more and more ridiculous the older he got, but people that had by and large been real and trying to do good things? That he could get behind.

Henry smiled softly and set the candle back down, then took a deep breath and turned back to Alex. A small pile of stuff was waiting on the counter where Alex had asked his dad to leave it. Alex searched Henry’s eyes for a moment to make sure he was okay before turning his attention to the items there.

“So,” Alex said, picking up the phone from the pile first. “This is yours, hooked up and ready to go. It has everyone’s number in it, is paid up for the year, and the stickynote on the back has the account information if you want to get in and take control of it for yourself. There’s no passcode on the phone itself yet, so you can set it to whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Henry said, taking the phone.

Alex nodded, picking up a set of keys next. There were five of them, each labeled. “These are for the house, and a car in the garage. The car is yours. We couldn’t put the title in your name quite yet, because of everything, but it’s yours. Technically, you probably shouldn’t drive right now due to some of the medications you’re on, and not having a license, but I still wanted you to have it.”

Henry took the keys a little more hesitantly. “You bought me a car?”

“I didn’t want you to have to walk,” Alex said simply. The car had been one of his last minute additions after what Henry had said when Alex explained the isolation of the ranch. It was a somewhat older two-door sedan, but Alex had just been glad his dad had been able to find and get anything at all on such short notice.

Henry closed his eyes and smiled slightly. He stepped forward and leaned into Alex for another hug. Alex gave it happily. The other stuff on the counter was just odds and ends. A map of the area, a couple of Henry’s favorite candybars, and a wallet with a thousand dollars cash and a credit card. Alex had his dad stock the fridge and the pantry with Henry’s favorites as well, and he had no doubt that when he opened the fridge he’d find a bunch of pre-cooked meals too.

“One more thing,” Alex said. “Come with me.”

Alex took them down the west hallway, passing the door to the main bedroom and stopping at the door to the largest guest bedroom. It was a bright, airy room with a sliding glass door out to the wrap-around porch and a beautiful view of the rocky hills that surrounded the house. The bed in there was a canopy bed, and there was a desk and some bookshelves built into a nook in the wall. It also had a door into the bathroom that sat between it and the main bedroom.

“The main bedroom—” Alex gestured to it, “is ours. Equally ours. But this room is yours and only yours. I won’t ever come in unless you tell me I can. I just…I wanted you to have your own space. Somewhere that’s completely yours. You can do whatever you want with it. Paint it. Toss all the furniture and replace it with new stuff. Spend the night in there if you need a little space. Ask me to spend the night in there with you. Just go there to unwind a little. Whatever. It’s yours.”

There were a few bags of new clothes on the bed as well, and some other things Alex had thought Henry might want. Bath products. Some blank journals. A new laptop.

Henry, one hand on the doorframe, looked over everything for a long moment, tears building in his eyes until they started to fall.

“Henry?” Alex said, reaching out and resting a hand on Henry’s lower back. Maybe this had been too much.

Henry took a shuddering breath, turning to Alex, voice cracking as he spoke. “You meant it.”

“Meant what?” Alex said.

“Us. Me. That—that you’re—that you still care,” Henry hiccuped, his tears falling faster.

“Oh, Henry,” Alex gathered him into his arms. “Yes, I meant it, baby. I meant it. We’re going to figure this out, I promise.”

Chapter 32: Exploring

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

HENRY

Henry woke up in Alex’s bed—their bed, a little after noon. Alex was sprawled next to him on his stomach, one arm trailing out to brush against Henry. He looked good in the soft light coming through the thin curtains. For awhile, Henry just laid there taking him in. His familiar face—which currently included a few days of stubble, something Henry had never objected to in the slightest. The few strands of gray hair at his temples. The definition in his arms that must’ve come from living on a ranch and fixing up a house. He was even more beautiful than he’d been before.

And he’d taken Henry back. He’d actually taken him back. Henry still couldn’t fully believe it. But what Alex had done earlier, all the little things to try and make Henry feel safe, chased away any lingering thoughts he might’ve had that Alex would leave. Alex had gone all in just like always, because that was what Alex did for the people he cared about. Somehow, through some stroke of luck, Henry was apparently still counted among that number just as much as before.

Carefully, Henry extracted himself from the bed, trying not to wake Alex. Even now, after hours of sleep, Alex still had bags under his eyes. Henry couldn’t imagine what this was like for him. To have the person you loved come back from the dead after over five years. There was still so much Henry didn’t understand, and he was finally ready to start asking some of those questions, but not until Alex had gotten more rest.

He wandered out of the room and into the one Alex had given him, poking through all the bags to see what was there. There was a lot. Henry would have to ask Alex who to thank for getting everything. Selecting some clean, comfortable looking clothes, he grabbed the bag of bath products as well and headed into the small bathroom attached to his room. It took a little work, but he managed to wrap one of the plastic bags around his bandaged hand, securing it with tape he found in the medicine cabinet.

After his rather long shower that felt absolutely amazing, he snuck into the main bathroom and dug around until he found a set of hair clippers under the sink. Alex still hadn’t stirred, so Henry tiptoed back to the other bathroom. When he’d been given supervised use of hair clippers at the compound he’d usually just put on the shortest guard and cut it nearly all the way down to buy himself more time with it not being in his face. This time, he selected a slightly longer guard. Other than that, though, he kept it simple and all the same length.

Shaving his face felt even better. They’d never given him enough time to really do it well at the compound, but now he could take his time. Ending up with a completely clean face without razor burn or shaving nicks felt just as nice as the long shower had.

Once everything was cleaned up, he went back out to explore the house a little. It really was gorgeous, and the glass walled courtyard brought in so much natural light, there wasn’t a dark corner to be found. Alex had vastly undersold how much beautiful woodwork was in the home. From the trim around the windows to the doors to random little details, everything had a personal touch. The only theme seemed to be that it was all done by the same hand. There was everything from animals to scrollwork to designs clearly inspired by a variety of cultures all over the world.

There were pieces of the brownstone as well. Familiar artwork on the walls, Alex’s favorite armchair, well worn blankets draped across couches. It was nice to see those little things, little pieces of their old life.

He could’ve stayed in the library all day, and knew there probably would be many future days where he would, but he tore himself away from it to keep going. When he made it back around to the kitchen, he found the phone and keys Alex had given him still sitting there. There was also a folded piece of paper with Henry’s name on it that he hadn’t noticed before. He went and picked it up.

Henry, mijo,

I am so glad you’re home. I’m here for whatever you need, at whatever time you need it. I am sure Alex has already more than proven to you that you’re not alone in this, but you’ve got plenty of other people waiting in the wings too. Whatever you’ve been told over the last years, just know that you are loved and you are valued and you will always, always be a part of this family.

-Dad

Henry brushed his fingers over the familiar handwriting. Over the word “dad.” He picked up the phone and opened the contacts, scrolling down to Oscar’s name and hitting the button to call him.

Oscar picked up on the second ring. “Hola, mijo.”

Henry smiled, going to sit at the kitchen table. “Hi. Do I have you to thank for everything in the house?”

“Well, technically Alex paid for most of it. I just picked it up,” Oscar said.

“Still. Thank you. It all helped a lot,” Henry said. His voice got a little softer for the next part. “The note…helped a lot too…dad.”

He’d never called Oscar that before, even though they’d gotten close. But it felt right. Especially now that both his real parents were gone. Knowing Oscar was there and willing to step into that role, well, it helped.

“Of course, Henry,” Oscar said. “I’m always here for you. And just for the record, not that I think for a moment that it will ever be an issue, but it’s not conditional and you and Alex being in a relationship either.”

Henry smiled again, a few tears prickling at his eyes. Alex wasn’t the only member of his family who went all in when they loved someone. “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, Henry. Love you,” Oscar said.

“Love you too.”

Henry hung up and went to the messaging app. He sent a quick text to Bea. “I’m going to call you, but can we not talk about any of it right now? I just want to hear your voice.”

He waited until the message switched to “read,” then hit the button to call her.

She picked up immediately. “Henry?”

“Hi, Bea,” Henry said, the tears from talking to Oscar finally falling at the sound of her voice.

“Hi.”

He could hear that she was probably crying too, and he had no idea what to say now.

“So, Alex told me you’re engaged?” He said finally.

She sniffed and laughed, and Henry could picture her perfectly as she wiped her eyes. “Yeah. His name is Krister.”

“How’d he propose?” Henry asked.

“At a concert. We met at another concert for the same band.”

Henry grinned. “That sounds like you. Do you have a date yet?”

“No, he only proposed last month and we wanted a little while to enjoy it before we figured out the next step. We haven’t even announced it publicly yet,” Bea explained. “Alex was actually the first to know, even before me, because apparently Krister went to him for help picking a ring.”

Well that was incredibly sweet. “You and Alex are still close then, I take it?”

“Super close,” Bea said. “I don’t know how I’d make it through the day without being able to annoy him via text message.”

Henry laughed. As much as he wanted to continue the conversation with his sister, his stomach was rumbling and he had a strong suspicion that when he opened the fridge he’d find something delicious from Oscar inside. He and Bea said their goodbyes, promising to talk soon.

The fridge held exactly what Henry had expected: about a dozen tupperwares full of food, plus two casserole dishes and a covered enameled cast-iron pot. It was kind of overwhelming, honestly. It had been almost six years since Henry had been able to open a fridge and find it full of anything at all, let alone stuff he loved. It took him a long minute to work up the courage to grab something.

He wanted to dive right into the Mexican rice, but he wasn’t sure how his stomach would do with that right now, so he plucked a protein shake out of the door instead. On his way back to the table he saw a basket of sopes under a decorative glass cover, so he grabbed a couple of those as well. They were a nice, plain, simple food that hopefully wouldn’t upset his stomach. But plain and simple or not, Oscar still made great ones from what Henry remembered.

Alex padded out a moment later, glasses low on his nose. His shoulders relaxed when he saw Henry at the table and he came over, leaning in to give Henry a kiss on the temple.

“I’d say morning, but I actually have no clue at all what time it is,” Alex said, sitting down next to him.

“About three in the afternoon,” Henry supplied. The sopes were fantastic. He was fighting the urge to just go get the whole basket.

“How long have you been up?” Alex asked.

“Few hours.”

“What have you been up to?” Alex’s voice this time was a little tentative. “Just showering, or…?”

“That, and I explored the house a little. It really is beautiful, Alex. You’ve done a great job fixing it up so far.”

Alex’s smile melted Henry’s heart. He’d missed that smile.

Alex got up and retrieved his own protein shake, as well as putting on a pot of coffee. He started to make tea as well and, god, Henry loved this man. Even after everything. After five years apart, many of them thinking Alex had moved on and started a family, something Henry had been so sure he’d convinced himself into being okay with. He still f*cking loved Alex so much. He loved that Alex had done so much to try and help him feel safe. He loved that Alex still seemed to know exactly how to make his favorite tea. He loved that Alex had meticulously restored this house while also making it his own. Their own, now. He loved that Alex had let him back in.

“I love you.”

Alex’s eyes widened just slightly and he turned to Henry with a slowly growing smile. “I love you too.”

Alex came over and set the tea in front of Henry, kissing him on the temple once more as he sat back down. They sat together in the quiet, just taking one another in as they drank. After a couple minutes, Henry managed to work up the courage to hook their ankles together like they always used to, earning a brilliant little smile from Alex.

“Okay,” Henry said once he finished his protein shake. “I don’t…want to really talk about what happened right now. But can you tell me how I got rescued? Because there’s all these confusing pieces in my mind and I can’t figure out how they fit together, and it’s bothering me.”

For some reason, the statement made Alex’s face go slightly red, and he fidgeted in his seat, hands twisting around his coffee mug. “Okay, I can totally do that, but the story is…slightly more complicated than you might be imagining. And to tell you how you got rescued, I’ll have to give some backstory about what I’ve been up to the last few years, which might be a bit…out of left field.”

Alex didn’t seem like he was trying to keep something from Henry, more like he just didn’t know how to explain whatever this was. He was flustered, more than anything, and that just made Henry curious. It also made him relax, just a little, from the realization that he could still read Alex’s tells.

“Well, I’m listening,” Henry said, trying to sound encouraging. He wasn’t sure he pulled it off. Talking still felt somewhat foreign, let alone talking to someone he trusted and loved.

“Okay, so. Like I said last night, this morning, whatever, I am still a lawyer. Love my law job. Ten out of ten there. But like you said last night, I like helping people. And I am impatient.”

“I stand by that,” Henry said. “But I have no idea where this is going.”

Alex chuckled, running a hand back through his hair. “No you really don’t. Ah ha. Well. f*ck it. I’m also a volunteer firefighter now. Have been for almost three years. I do it almost full time, these days, on top of the law work.”

Henry couldn’t stop his mouth falling slightly open as he tried to figure out if he’d heard Alex right.

“Let me clarify, though, that while I do do fire work, in a town as small as this, actual fires are a pretty small part of the job. It’s a lot more community based work. Assistance calls, car wreaks, outreach, that kind of stuff.”

Alex was still nervously twisting his hands around his coffee cup and Henry realized that the look Alex was giving him was a cautious, if a little desperate, search for approval. He didn’t know how Henry was going to take this. Henry supposed that was fair. He never would’ve imagined Alex as a firefighter, but now that he was thinking about it, he could see how the pieces had come together. Alex’s tendency to chase adrenaline, his need to help people, his love of complex systems, his ability to meld into any team he got put on. It all added up to firefighter pretty well, Henry realized.

“Well, I guess that explains the extremely attractive level of muscle on your arms right now,” Henry said at last, smiling as he did. That level of muscle was currently being shown off by a tight t-shirt that Henry very much appreciated. “Here I was thinking it was just from living on a ranch.”

Alex melted back into his seat, reflecting Henry’s smile. “Oh, the ranch work does help.”

Henry definitely wanted to know more about this whole Alex being a firefighter thing (especially, he had to admit, when the thought of Alex in uniform crossed his mind), but that wasn’t what had started this conversation.

“What does this have to do with me being rescued, though?” Henry said.

Alex’s smile turned sad. “I’m not sure how much you know about what was going on, but there wasn’t just one fire in Australia, Henry. There’s dozens right now, some of them absolutely monstrous. A lot of factors just came together in the wrong way to make this the most hellish fire season they’ve ever seen.”

With how thick and long lasting the smoke had been, that made a lot of sense, unfortunately. Henry was glad he hadn’t broken enough to contribute to it out of desperation to get himself out, and doubly glad now that the fires he had lit had never made it outside the house. He still didn’t see how the things Alex was telling him were tied together, though.

Alex continued, “Australia is completely out of resources at this point. They just don’t have enough to go around. They’re accepting help from anywhere they can get it. My crew, because we’re rural, is cross-trained in structural and wildland work. A group of us went out there for two weeks to help as much as we could.”

Something clicked suddenly in Henry’s mind, something he had discounted because it didn’t make any sense it all, so he thought he must’ve been remembering it wrong. “It was you in the truck.”

Alex sat with his mouth slightly open before he managed to respond. “You remember that?”

Henry’s head was spinning and apparently Alex could tell, because he scooted his chair closer to Henry’s, reaching out and cupping his face.

“It was you?” Henry said, his voice cracking as he searched Alex’s eyes with his own.

“Yeah, baby, it was me.” Alex’s thumbs ran gently along Henry’s cheeks. Henry leaned into the touch. It felt like the only stable part of the world at the moment.

“I thought it must’ve just been someone who looked—looked enough like you that my brain was filling in the gaps because of how much I—I wanted it to be you,” Henry said, starting to shake a little. “What happened? How were you there?”

Hands still gently caressing Henry’s face, Alex explained what they’d been doing, how the wind had changed so they’d try to pull out and head back to the main camp only for a new fire to start and run them over. How they’d passed the house that they’d been told was empty, but decided to check anyway. How Alex had seen Henry on the porch and not known it was him until they were back in the truck. How Henry had been flown to the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, looking worried. “I know that’s a lot to put on you all at once.”

Henry understood why Alex was worried. Henry had started crying about halfway through the story, and he was still shaking. But it wasn’t because he was overwhelmed, not by the story itself anyway.

“You were there,” Henry gasped. “You were there the whole time.”

“Yeah, I was,” Alex said, wiping away a couple tears on Henry’s face.

“I thought…I couldn’t fill in that gap between when I passed out on the porch and when I woke up in the hospital. I thought I’d been with strangers most of that time. That the guards might’ve found out I was there, or Mary, and you just happened to get there before them somehow. But you were there the whole time. You were there the whole time.” He deflated, leaning forward into Alex’s arms, a lot of the pent up emotion of the last few days draining out of him all at once. He’d been unsettled by the gap in his memory, but he hadn’t realized until now that he was actually terrified of it. To find out the gap didn’t matter because the one person he trusted most in the world had literally carried him through it lifted so much weight off his shoulders.

Alex wrapped an arm around Henry’s waist and pulled him up onto his lap. “You weren’t alone. You’ll never be alone again, I promise.”

After a few minutes Henry pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against Alex’s and bringing his unbandaged hand up to rest on Alex’s face. Just a few days ago he’d been fully convinced he’d never get to do this again. That Alex was lost to him. He’d told himself he was okay with that, and maybe he could’ve been, but he was stupidly happy he’d never have to find out now. He couldn’t imagine finding, feeling the level of safety he got from the sensation of Alex’s arms around him anywhere else.

Sliding his hand back into Alex’s hair, he tilted his head until their lips came together. Alex let out something between a whimper and a moan, pressing up into the kiss as his arms tightened around Henry. The kiss was salty with both their tears, but Henry didn’t care at all. Alex still tasted like Alex, and his lips still felt exactly the same.

“I f*cking love you so f*cking much,” Alex panted when they came up for air.

There weren’t words in any language Henry knew that could adequately express his own feelings at the moment, so he just leaned in to kiss Alex again. He never wanted to stop kissing Alex, if he was being honest. If they could just stay like this forever, Henry on Alex’s lap in a warm, inviting kitchen as the Texas sun sat low in the sky outside, Henry would’ve been okay with that.

Chapter 33: Reaching Out

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

ALEX

Eventually they did get up from the kitchen table, going and settling themselves onto the livingroom couch, sitting so they were facing one another with their knees brushing. Henry had stopped shaking, thankfully, and there was something…calmer about his whole demeanor.

David planted himself in Henry’s lap immediately, while Freddie claimed Alex’s lap. This was the longest Alex had been gone since he’d owned Freddie, and Freddie was making his displeasure clear by nipping at him every time Alex tried to pet him, but also refusing to sit anywhere else.

Henry laughed watching them. “When did you get him?”

“A little after I moved in here,” Alex said. “There was a bit of a mouse problem. There is, however, no longer a mouse problem.”

Henry leaned forward and successfully scratched Freddie’s ears, earning closed eyes and purring. “Sounds like he’s a very good boy.”

Alex tried petting Freddie again, only to earn some serious airplane ears aimed in his direction. Alex threw up his hands in defeat.

“So, is there anything else I can fill in about your rescue?” Alex asked.

Henry held up his bandaged hand, a questioning look in his eyes.

Alex held up his own hand to explain, tracing out where the damage to Henry’s was and walking him through what the initial treatment had been, how many stitches he’d needed, and what the treatment plan was going forward. “I’ll need to change the bandages tomorrow, as long as you’re okay with me being the one to do it. I’ve got my EMT license as well, for the record.”

“You keep naming all these new career paths that come with attractive uniforms,” Henry said. “Tease.”

Alex laughed, still a little giddy over how well Henry was taking all of the firefighter stuff. They needed to have a conversation about if Alex would still be doing it going forward—he could understand if it worried Henry and he was open to taking a step back if Henry needed him to. The crew would still be there, and there were other ways he could help out without being on active duty.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble,” Alex said. “But the EMT stuff is just a license. There is no specific EMT uniform involved, since I don’t actually work on an ambulance.”

“That’s what Amazon is for,” Henry said, a mischievous little smile on his face. Alex blushed and cleared his throat, which earned a laugh from Henry. Henry kept surprising him. Alex wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but flirting had certainly been farther down the list. Not that he was objecting.

“Noted,” Alex said. “Very noted. But back to your hand. Are you okay with me being the one to change the bandage?”

“Yes, of course. I’d prefer it, honestly,” Henry said.

They lapsed into another comfortable silence, each resting their heads on the back of the couch as they stared at one another. Henry looked so much better, Alex realized. His eyes were bright, the redness from the smoke nearly gone. There was color in his face and his lips were full, though still healing from the dehydration. Even his voice sounded infinitely better, though there was still a slight rasp there. The shave and haircut helped a lot too. Made him look much less haggard.

“I don’t…really know where to start with figuring everything else out,” Henry confessed after awhile, his voice quiet. “I talked to Bea a little bit while you were still asleep. And your dad. But only for a few minutes each.”

Alex reached across the slight distance between them and took Henry’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We can go at whatever pace you want.”

Henry squeezed back and swallowed. “I don’t…I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to talk about what happened. But I don’t want Mary to get away with this either.”

“She won’t,” Alex assured. He’d only gotten bits and pieces of updates so far—that Philip was successfully keeping Mary distracted, mostly—and he hadn’t checked his phone at all since he’d woken up, but he was sure that the situation would be handled. “You don’t need to talk about it at all if you don’t want to, there’s plenty of evidence without any testimony from you.”

“There is?”

Henry looked so hopeful at the idea of not having to speak about it if he didn’t want to, but still have Mary suffer consequences for it. The anger at what Henry had been put through that surged just as strong as before. Mary deserved something beyond consequences and if protecting Henry, helping him heal, weren’t Alex’s number one priority, he would’ve gone to England and handled the problem himself.

“Yes,” Alex told Henry. “The house is likely gone now, and no one has been able to get back in there yet due to the fires, but there’s an investigations team waiting for the all clear, and the area is being monitored to make sure no one else gets in there first. Even if there’s no evidence to be found there, the property records will have plenty. I’m sure there’s more since I last got updated, but the point is that you being alive is evidence enough. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to talk about it.”

Henry nodded, casting his eyes down. He gently twisted one of David’s ears between his fingers before he whispered, “I’m not sure I want to talk about it with you either.”

Alex took a slow, shaky breath, giving Henry’s hand another reassuring squeeze. “Okay. That’s okay. You’re home, and you’re safe. That’s what matters to me. But please…talk to someone, okay? Or write in one of the journals. Just don’t keep it all locked in your head.”

Henry nodded, the fabric of the couch rasping against his cheek as he did.

If Alex was being honest, he did want Henry to talk to him about it, and it stung a little that Henry didn’t want to, but Alex could understand how overwhelming it felt. There was five-and-a-half years of troubled history for each of them, five-and-a-half years that neither of them understood for the other. Alex didn’t know where to start any more than Henry probably did. He’d only brought up the firefighter stuff when he had because there’d been no other way to explain Henry’s rescue without lying about it, which Alex wasn’t going to do.

“Can I show you something in your room?” Alex asked.

Henry nodded and they both got up, despite Freddie and David’s protests, and walked back to Henry’s room. Alex paused at the doorway, silently looking to Henry for permission. Henry gave him a small smile and a nod. Alex went to the nook with the desk and bookshelf, waving Henry over. Henry scanned his eyes over the books, then settled them on Alex. Reaching up, Alex pulled down Click, Click, Scream from the top left.

“I ordered this,” Henry said, reaching out to run his fingers over the cover.

“You did. The night after my graduation, I was walking home, and I saw it in a Little Free Library. Graduation was…kind of rough, and when I saw this I remembered that you ordered it, so I grabbed it and took it home. I read it all in one sitting and, for some reason, there were a bunch of blank pages at the back. So I wrote a letter to you on the blank pages,” Alex explained. “It was the first time since what happened that I tried to face it even a little bit head on.”

Henry looked up at Alex, fingers still resting on the cover, sadness in his eyes. “Alex…”

Alex smiled wistfully. “I won’t lie and say I ever really handled this well, especially not in the beginning. There’s things I don’t know how to tell you either, and I don’t have the faintest idea where to start with any of it. But…this book, the letter in it, helped. It helped a lot. So I kept doing it.”

Alex gestured to the other books on the shelves. There were 38 total, plus a few loose letters that Alex had written when he’d felt like he needed to reach out to Henry even though he hadn’t recently read a book he thought Henry might like. Alex had had his dad move all of them from the library into Henry’s room, being careful to preserve the order they were in.

“There’s a letter to you in each of them,” Alex said. “You don’t have to read them if you don’t want to, but maybe, I don’t know. Maybe it can be a way to do this in smaller chunks. To close the gap one piece at a time, instead of all at once. They’re all in order, so. It’s up to you.”

Henry, tears shining in his eyes once more, took Click, Click, Scream and set it aside on the desk, then stepped forward and pulled Alex into another kiss. Alex melted into it just as much as before. It felt so good. So familiar. Henry was back. He was alive and they were kissing and nothing else mattered.

Henry had asked Alex for a little space once Alex had shown him the books, which Alex was fine with. If he was being honest, he kind of needed some too. Cramming five-and-a-half years of missed emotional connection into so many tiny moments was exhausting. Not that he’d trade it for anything in the world, but still.

The sun was set now so Alex grabbed one of the wool blankets off the couch and went out onto the porch, curling up on the swing there. Pulling out his phone, he ignored all the text messages and called Bea.

“Is everything okay?” she answered.

“As okay as it can be,” Alex said. “Henry and I talked about a lot, but we both needed a little bit of a breather. He’s in the room I gave him trying to unwind a little. I’m out on the porch.”

Bea’s voice softened, “Are you okay?”

Alex had no f*cking idea. “I told him how he got rescued. He asked.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Surprisingly good, actually. It’s…he’s…he’s still him, Bea. Really closed off and overwhelmed, but he’s still in there. A lot of the time he’s really guarded, but every now and then he’ll drop some little comment that’s just…him,” Alex said. That feeling of Henry teasing him about an EMT uniform still glowed warm in Alex’s mind. That was his Henry. Whatever else might’ve changed, at his core Henry was still Henry.

“That’s good to know,” Bea replied. “Now, given you did not mention anything I’ve texted about what’s going on, I’m assuming you haven’t read your text messages?”

“Your tone is mildly alarming,” Alex replied. “Do I need to be worried?”

“Well, no, probably not. At least not in the sense of Mary, like, sending assassins to your home or anything. But maybe about how Henry’s going to react when he finds out,” Bea replied.

Alex swallowed. “Oh?”

“Philip has taken the…ah…nuclear option here. Which, good on him, honestly, but he’s the last person I would’ve ever expected to do it,” Bea said.

Alex had a vague suspicion about what the nuclear option would be, but he needed to hear it from Bea. “Stop beating around the bush. I already promised Henry he would never have to testify or even talk about any of this if he didn’t want to, and I need to know what I might need to do to keep that promise.”

“He’s having her removed from office,” Bea said. “He’s already recalled Parliament and they’re discussing all of it now.”

“Well sh*t,” Alex said. He’d been right, mostly. As far as he was concerned the fully nuclear option would be dissolving the monarchy entirely. But this was a pretty big step in and of itself.

He had to kind of agree with Bea, though. For Philip, of all people, to take this option, seemed wildly out of left field, even if he wasn’t taking it as far as he could. Except, maybe it wasn’t that far out. With Mary’s dementia and James’s health, Henry’s sudden reappearance wasn’t the only thing weighing on Philip. It was coming from all sides. If he could finally get out from under it by having Mary removed from the picture due to what she’d done to Henry, it would lighten the load for everything else too.

“Nothing like this has happened in centuries,” Bea said. “Not in England, anyway. Regents have been appointed when rulers have health problems, mental or physical, but the heir to the throne looking to forcibly remove their predecessor for committing serious crimes? There’s no modern precedence. Who knows what Parliament will even do.”

“What would having her removed accomplish?” Alex asked. “It’s not like she could go to prison. She’s got immunity to all forms of prosecution.”

Bea sighed. “Well, that’s the thing. She’s got immunity while she’s queen. But if she isn’t queen anymore, what then? Can she be prosecuted for things she did while she was queen? Or prosecuted under other charges to at least get her out of the way? It just puts us back at having no precedence for this. I believe the suggested course of action is for her to, for all intents and purposes, be put under house arrest for the rest of her life in exchange for not being prosecuted. She would probably be at Sandringham, with no access to the internet or a phone, and with a very, very carefully vetted staff.”

All the different ways this could get messy started to spool out in Alex’s mind. People who were die-hard loyalists to the queen being furious. Other countries trying to get involved so they could use the situation to their own ends. Massive legal battles over Mary’s right to a trial, or lack there of. Henry being blamed even though he was the victim. Henry blaming himself for all of that mess even though he was the victim.

“I don’t know what else to say until Parliament votes or whatever it is they’re going to do, then,” Alex said. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Henry anything until then, or until Henry asked.

“I’ll text you as soon as they do,” Bea said. “Alex…do you think…when do you think I could come over?”

Alex glanced towards Henry’s room. “I’m not sure right now. He loves you, and he misses you like crazy, but he’s still hurt and exhausted and trying to figure all of this out. I think he just needs a little more time.”

Bea gave a shaky sigh on the other end of the line. “Okay.”

“We’ll get through this,” Alex promised.

“Okay. I love you. I’ll text you as soon as I know anything,” she replied.

“I love you too.”

Alex hung up, sliding down to lay on the swing. This was all too damn much, and even with help he didn’t know how he was supposed to handle all of it. Henry was traumatized, the implications for what happened to him were global and historical, and Alex felt like he was barely treading water.

He dialed June, immediately spilling everything out before she could even say hello. He told her how tired he was, how scared he was, how unsure he was of what was supposed to happen next. How he wasn’t sure how to help Henry, and everything he’d done so far to try.

“I should’ve found him sooner,” Alex said, half growl and half sob. “I knew something wasn’t right, I kne—”

“No, you didn’t,” June interrupted. “None of us did. We were sad and grieving and grasping at straws. It’s only now, looking back with twenty-twenty vision that we can see how it all fit together. We didn’t have enough pieces before. Hell, we still don’t have enough pieces now. There’s probably parts of this we will never understand. You did rescue him, he is safe now. Those are the things that matter.”

Alex knew she was right but that didn’t take away the sting of knowing that Henry had spent almost six years suffering alone while Alex had just been living his life. Sure, a good chunk of his life in the time he’d thought Henry dead hadn’t been great, but it had nothing on what Henry had been put through.

“I just want to go back,” Alex hiccuped, the heel of his hand digging into his eye as he tried to wipe away the tears. “I just want to go back to when he got on that plane and tell him not to go.”

“You couldn’t have changed it,” June said softly. “Maybe you could have changed that day, that month, but Mary already had the plan in place. She would’ve just taken her next chance.”

That didn’t really make him feel any better. It also made him wonder just how long Mary had been planning this. Such a big plan would’ve taken time to put together properly. How many times had she been around Henry after she’d decided to do this? Just quietly seething and waiting for her chance?

“Stop spiraling,” June said when he didn’t respond. “We’ve got this. Phillip and Bea are handling the monarchy—Bea from here with us where she’s safe. Mom and dad are wrangling the political blowback and all the legal aspects. Nora’s got about five investigative whiteboards in our livingroom. Pez and I are handling the media. You’ve got Henry. We’re going to get through it. Go inside, eat something—preferably with a lot of carbs, and then go to bed.”

Alex knew she was right. Both about them having as much of a handle on it as they could, and him needing to go eat and sleep. It was obnoxious, being old enough to finally accept that physical needs had to come first sometimes. They said their goodbyes and he headed inside, pulling the first carby thing he saw out of the fridge. He didn’t really taste any of it, but he finished anyway before heading towards the main bedroom. When he got to the door he heard faint music coming from Henry’s bedroom down the hall, stopping to listen for a moment. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it sounded soft. Alex hoped it was helping.

Chapter 34: Journaling

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER 2028

HENRY

Asking Alex to leave was hard. Henry felt like he had to, though. He needed some distance to process. Alex loved so hard and so thoroughly, and Henry had forgotten what that felt like. He’d been overwhelmed by it before, when Alex had chased him down to London after Henry had left the lakehouse, but now it, well, it felt like standing in the middle of a wildfire.

To know that Alex really had spent the last almost six years thinking about him so often, writing letters to him and trying to stay connected even when he’d thought Henry was dead, was astounding to Henry. Even with the idea that Alex had been married off the table, Henry couldn’t wrap his mind around Alex still caring so much. He almost felt a little guilty. Alex should have moved on. He had no reason not to.

David had followed him into the room so Henry slid to the floor and pulled David onto his lap, burying his face in David’s fur. His whole body was still rather achey from everything, but that didn’t stop him.

“I’m glad you’re here, buddy,” Henry mumbled into the top of David’s head.

David licked his cheek in response.

“I love him,” Henry said to David. “I know I do. When he holds me it’s…better. Safe. Familiar. But I can’t…I can’t stop thinking about it all falling apart.” A few tears started to roll down his face and David nudged at his chin, trying to wiggle closer and provide some amount of deep pressure therapy like he was trained. Henry wrapped his arm around him, stupidly glad he was there.

In a lot of ways, all of this was too much. The house was too full. Alex’s love was overwhelming. The support from Oscar and everyone else was overwhelming. The ability to make his own decisions again was daunting and exhausting. But he wanted it. He wanted all of it. He wanted back everything Mary had taken away. He didn’t want to just crawl into a different hole than the one he’d spent the last years in. He didn’t want to give her more than she’d taken. But he didn’t know how.

When he heard the front door open out in the livingroom, his whole body tensed up, expecting a guard to come charging in. It wasn’t until David licked his chin that the tension bled away. Of course it wasn’t a guard, because there were no more guards, not like that. It was probably just Alex. Still…

Henry got up and padded over to the bedroom door, peering out to check. It was Alex. Henry could see him through one of the front windows, sitting on the porch swing and talking on his phone. Just Alex. With a sigh, Henry turned around and really examined the room for the first time, investigating all the nooks and crannies. He put away everything that had been on the bed in the dresser and closet, then took a few minutes to set up the laptop. The silence was starting to get to him, so he pulled up Spotify and tried to log into his old account, a little surprised when it worked. It was still there, exactly as it had been before. The subscription had lapsed, but otherwise nothing had changed. It was a ghost of who’d he’d been six years ago, left to linger forever. He wondered how many others were out there.

Slipping out to the kitchen, he grabbed his new wallet off the counter and went back to his room. With the subscription reactivated, he selected his favorite old playlist and turned it on, instantly relaxing into the soft, familiar sounds. God, he’d missed music. Nothing would’ve made five-and-a-half years of being locked up better, but music might’ve made it easier. The little CD player he’d been given at one point had only lasted about four months before it broke, and even then it had nothing on the thousands of songs he’d collected and carefully curated on Spotify.

With the laptop set aside, Henry pulled out one of the journals that Oscar had gotten him and a pen, flipping it open to the front page. The pen hovered over the paper but Henry couldn’t figure out what the hell to write. He realized the last time he’d even held a pen had been over four years ago when he’d tried to send a message out on the bird he’d caught. He still sort of wondered what had happened to that message, though he couldn’t say he was surprised the idea hadn’t worked.

In the end, he just started making simple strokes all over the page. Little lines and curves and dots to get the feel of having a pen in his hand again while his mind wandered. It helped, somewhat. The tension in his shoulders began to loosen and finally he flipped to a clean page, writing two words.

I survived.

He stared at those two words, reading them over and over again. They were true. He’d made it out. There were no more guards waiting in a bunker behind the house. No more scheduled meals. No more manila folders full of manipulation. No more concrete wall. No more crumbling house. No more locked bedroom at night. No more cameras everywhere.

“I survived,” he whispered to himself.

Everything they’d thrown at him, everything Mary had tried to do, hadn’t worked. He closed the journal, for now, because at the moment that was all that mattered.

Setting the journal aside, he finally picked up Click, Click, Scream again. It was a little worn. Henry wondered if that was from Alex or from the previous owner who had left it in the Little Free Library. He flipped through the pages, skimming a few verses here and there, but he wasn’t really interested in the book itself at the moment. He wanted to read Alex’s letter.

Henry, the man I miss more than anything in the world,

This is what we did, isn’t it? Wrote letters. Well, emails. Texts. Even after Richards, though we obviously started being more careful after that. I finished this book and saw these pages and just…I don’t know. I don’t know. I miss you, baby. I miss you so f*cking much.

I don’t know how to live my life without you in it. I don’t know how to not text you every wild, out of pocket thought that crosses my mind. I don’t know how to enjoy things if I can’t celebrate them with you. I don’t know how to smile if you’re not sitting next to me. I don’t know how to sleep if I can’t roll over and find you there, or at least steal your pillow so I can smell your ridiculous shampoo.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

I did something stupid tonight and I’m so sorry, because it felt like such a betrayal. There was a guy outside a bar and I was just so f*cking exhausted and lonely and I’d just graduated and I didn’t know which way was up. I let him take me home. I’m sorry. It hasn’t even been a year and I’m sorry.

The letter kept going, getting more and more illegible as it went, the ink smudged with what had clearly been tears. By the time it was done, Henry was crying too, adding a few smudges of his own to the book.

He hadn’t thought about it for a long time, but he’d been aware from the start that Alex must have grieved him. But it was one thing to know that and another to read it as it had happened in real time, even if it had been a year after Henry vanished. He ached to crawl through those pages and gather post-graduation Alex into his arms, to rock him and kiss him and tell him it was okay, that Henry didn’t blame him even slightly for any of it.

Closing the book, he went to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, staring at his own reflection. Who was he now? Who was Alex? They weren’t the people they’d been before any of this had happened. They weren’t the people they’d been when Alex had written that first letter. How the hell was this supposed to work? Alex had a whole life now that Henry knew nothing about, and Henry had a level of trauma that would take years, at best, to even start tackling.

But…they still made one another laugh. Alex still knew how to make Henry’s tea just right. Henry still felt more relaxed the closer Alex was to him. Based on the other titles Henry had seen on the shelf of letters, they still enjoyed the same things. Based on the house, they still had similar tastes. The two of them could still understand one another, even when the other wasn’t speaking.

What Henry had wanted all this time was a memory and, based on that first letter, that was probably what Alex wanted to. A memory that wasn’t there anymore. Too much had happened. But that didn’t mean they weren’t there anymore, that the foundation of what they’d built wasn’t still standing. They just needed to figure out how to build the rest of it back up, and to do that, they needed to both be on the same page.

Making up his mind, Henry went to the main bedroom. Alex was there, propped up in bed with his glasses on the end of his nose and a book on his lap. He glanced up when Henry came in and started to say something, but Henry didn’t give him time before he leaned in and kissed Alex.

“Well hi,” Alex said breathlessly when Henry pulled away.

“Hi.” Henry took Alex’s book and tossed it off to the side, shoving the pillow it had been propped on out of the way too, then climbed onto the bed, straddled Alex’s lap, and went right back to kissing him. That hadn’t really been the plan when he’d walked in, but as soon as he’d seen Alex all he’d been able to think about was how sad he’d been in the letter, and how much he wished he’d been there to chase that sadness away.

It took Alex a second to catch up, but one arm quickly wrapped around Henry’s waist to pull him closer, his other hand roaming around Henry’s body, going from clutching at Henry’s hair to the back of his neck to his shoulder to his leg. Alex was so warm against him and Henry let his own hand explore just as much. He wished he had both hands, like Alex did, but for now he was stuck with the sling so one hand would have to do.

When they finally broke apart they were both panting slightly, their foreheads still touching.

“Henry?” Alex asked, his eyes searching Henry’s.

Henry sat back just a little, taking a deep breath. “I want this. I want us. But we have to stop being scared of one another if this is going to work.”

Confusion flitted across Alex’s face. “What?”

“We’re both still scared the other is going to leave. We’re both scared to tell the other things that happened over the last five-and-a-half years. We’re both scared we’re going to do or say or reveal something that’s going to upset the other,” Henry said. He’d realized it while he was reading Alex’s letter, putting it together with everything else Alex had done over the last couple of days. Alex was scared. Terrified. Henry couldn’t blame him. “And we both have to realize it’s never going to be exactly what we had before. It’s different now. But I still want it, whatever it’s going to become now.”

Alex pulled his lower lip between his teeth and Henry leaned in to kiss away the tension, hand cupping Alex’s face as he did.

“Do you want this, Alex?” Henry asked as he leaned back, their eyes locked together. “Whatever it’s going to become now?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Yes, I do. I want this.”

“Tell me why,” Henry said. “Because I think you need to hear it out loud as much as I do.”

Alex sat up a little, wrapping both arms around Henry where he still sat in Alex’s lap. “Because I miss what my life is like with you in it. I miss having someone I love and trust and understand, who feels those same things for me in return. I miss talking to you about books and TV shows. I miss playing trivia games with you. I miss curling up on the couch together when one of us had a bad day. I just…I miss all of it. All the little moments even more than the big ones.”

“I miss all of that too,” Henry said. “And that’s kind of my point. I know we can’t just step back into exactly what we had before, but I don’t want to sit here tiptoeing around it either. This sucked. It still sucks. Both of us went through some really sh*tty things over the last five-and-a-half years, but we’ve had enough time stolen from us, and I don’t want to lose more to us sitting here scared about what happens next. So I’m all in if you are.”

Henry swallowed, waiting to see what Alex was going to say. This much talking was making his throat hurt, honestly, but he didn’t care. They needed to find some stable ground instead of continuing to pingpong off of one another until they were too overwhelmed to keep going.

Tears had formed in the corners of Alex’s eyes, but he nodded, managing a small, tight smile. “Yes. I’m in. I’m all in.”

Henry smiled, reaching up to wipe away Alex’s tears, even though he knew there were some on his own face as well. “Alright then.”

Alex’s smile grew. “Alright then.”

“We just treat one another like normal,” Henry said. “With the promise that if, when, a line gets crossed that wasn’t there before, or something just needs to change, we’ll talk about it.”

Alex nodded. “Any other ground rules you want to lay?”

Henry thought about it a little. “Ask me tomorrow?”

Alex agreed. “Also, since we’re being honest, I really kind of want to go back to kissing you now.”

Henry laughed. “Well, I did make you promise to treat me like you always did, and I can’t think of a single time either of us ever said no to more kissing, so.”

Alex grinned and grabbed a fistful of Henry’s shirt, pulling him back in. The kisses this time were different. Less hesitant, more passionate. Alex parted his lips first, brushing his tongue along Henry’s own lips until they opened for him. Henry moaned, trying to get closer, chasing the feeling of being so loved that he’d gone so long without.

After several minutes of kissing Henry was, very suddenly and unexpectedly, lifted up and spun around until he was on his back, staring up at Alex kneeling over him. Alex had pulled away to yank his t-shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” Henry muttered, eyes going wide as he scanned them over Alex’s body.

“What?” Alex said, one eyebrow raised.

“You,” Henry said, sounding a little strangled. He knew his face had to be bright red.

Alex had always been rather athletic and well toned, but that was not what Henry was looking at now. Now, Alex was actually muscled. And not gym muscles that served no purpose other than to look good, but real muscles from constant hard work. Muscles that were padded in all the right places to keep them from looking too hard. There was a thicker spray of hair across his chest as well and oh, Henry was in trouble. So much trouble.

That beautiful, crooked, mischievous grin Henry had missed so much spread across Alex’s face. “Like the view?”

“You are never allowed to put your shirt back on,” Henry said, voice cracking.

Alex was still laughing when he leaned back in for another kiss. Henry ran his hand over Alex, feeling every dip and swell of his body, tracing the hard lines of his arms and curves of his abs. It took a little more work to get Henry out of his shirt and sling, but they were both discarded eventually. Henry only had half a second to worry about what he looked like before Alex was kissing down his neck and across his chest, clearly not caring.

Worries about what was going on outside this little bubble of safety in the Texas Hill Country still nipped at the edges of Henry’s mind, but little by little they all fell away. Every touch was a shock to his system, a distinct reminder of how long it had been since anyone had been kind to him, had cared about him when they touched him. It might have been too much, if it weren’t for the fact that each touch also proved how much Alex still knew him. Proved that he was with someone who would never hurt him, who knew how to make him feel good. Whenever Alex’s fingers or his lips grazed over somewhere Henry had been hurt over the last five-and-a-half years, Henry pressed the memory of the new sensation over the old. Only the new ones mattered.

They switched places a couple times, just exploring one another. When Henry ended up on his back for the third time, he tugged Alex up to his face, kissing him once, then pausing to catch his breath.

“I want you, all the way,” Henry admitted.

Alex stilled slightly, eyes searching Henry’s. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“Are you clean?” Henry asked.

Alex nodded. “There was only one time with someone else, and I got checked after.”

“Then I don’t care for tonight,” Henry said. “And, for the record, I don’t blame you for that one time either. But we can talk about that later. Tonight I just…I just want you. If you’re okay with that?”

Alex nodded again, leaning in for a quick, soft kiss. The mood had changed once more, back to a slower, more careful exploration.

“Okay.” Alex pulled back, one hand caressing Henry’s cheek. “I want to do this, but I’m going to warn you right now that I’m going to cry.”

“Me too,” Henry whispered.

Alex smiled, leaning in for one more kiss, then he sat up and reached over to his nightstand. They’d managed to get pretty far away from it, so Henry got to see the whole tight line of Alex’s body as he stretched. It was a damn good view. Alex came back with a bottle of lube that he dropped onto the bed before rising to his knees and starting to shimmy out of his pants. It took a lot of wiggling, and some laughter, since neither of them seemed to want to actually move away from one another to make undressing easier, but soon they were both naked. Alex’s thighs were just as muscled as the rest of him and Henry made a mental note that, at some point, he really needed to have Alex ride him so he could just lay back and watch all those muscles work.

“Ready?” Alex asked, leaning over Henry, his face soft.

Henry nodded, tangling his fingers into the hair at the nape of Alex’s neck. Alex leaned in and resumed kissing him as he took one of Henry’s legs and hooked it up over his shoulder. The cap on the bottle of lube clicked and a moment later Alex broke the kiss, pulling back a few inches as one slick finger came up to circle Henry’s hole. Henry tried to keep his eyes open, keep them locked on Alex’s, but they kept fluttering shut as Alex moved. When Alex finally slid the finger inside Henry arched back into the bed with a moan. It was just as much from the idea that it was happening as it was the actual feeling of it.

Alex took things slow and steady, working Henry loose a little at a time, whispering praises and encouragements and love into Henry’s ear as he did. Henry managed to keep it together through all of it, until Alex pulled his fingers away and looked down at Henry with shining eyes.

“Ready?” Alex asked again.

Henry nodded, taking a shaky breath as tears gathered in his own eyes. He brought both hands up to frame Alex’s face, locking their gazes together as Alex slowly slid himself inside. It stung a little, but Henry didn’t care. By the time Alex was all the way in, tears were pouring down both of their faces. Alex fell forward, tucking his head into Henry’s neck and sliding his arms around him, holding him tight. Henry did the same, hooking his ankles together behind Alex’s back.

“I love you, I love you,” Alex muttered into Henry’s skin.

Henry echoed it back as Alex started to move, slow and shallow at first. Henry rocked his hips, encouraging Alex to go a little faster as they kissed messily. Alex took the hint, speeding up until they were both panting between kisses.

It felt so good. Open and honest and raw and f*ck, Henry loved this man. He loved that this man still loved him.

Henry came first, cum painting both his and Alex’s chests.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Henry gasped. He wanted Alex to finish inside of him.

Alex groaned, leaning in for a hard kiss and starting to snap his hips again. Henry’s body quivered as he held onto Alex, riding the wave of overstimulation until Alex’s rhythm fell apart and Henry felt his org*sm quake through him.

They stayed like that, Alex still inside him as he softened and they both tried to catch their breath. When Alex did finally pull out, Henry whimpered, feeling empty without him.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Alex whispered. He rolled them onto their sides, then hiked one of Henry’s legs up over his own hip before reaching around and sliding two fingers inside Henry.

Henry whimpered again, clinging to Alex as they both came down from the haze of sex. They didn’t do anything else, just laid there, bodies pressed together from head to toe until their breathing slowed. Eventually Alex slid his fingers out. This time it felt better.

“I love you,” Alex whispered.

“I love you too.”

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think we’d be doing that again so soon,” Alex admitted.

A small laugh bubbled out of Henry’s throat. “Yeah, neither did I. But I’m glad we did. I think I needed it.”

“What about it did you need?” Alex asked.

Henry lightly raked his fingers through the hair on Alex’s chest while he thought it over. “Just…being close to you. Seeing you. Knowing you…still want me like that.”

Alex kissed his forehead, then pulled back to look at him again. “I think I needed it too. For the same reasons.”

They lapsed into silence, staring at one other across the few inches that were between them. It wasn’t long before Alex’s eyes started to droop, and even less time before his body went slack with sleep. Henry smiled, carefully extracting himself and getting up to turn off the light. He crawled right back into bed, not caring that they were both sweaty and messy, and pulled up the blanket over them. They could change the sheets and shower in the morning.

Chapter 35: The Ranch

Chapter Text

November 2028

Henry

Henry woke up with the warm weight of Alex draped along his back, Alex’s face pressed between his shoulder blades. He floated blissfully in the haze of the morning, replaying the night before in his mind. He hadn’t expected it to end in sex any more than Alex had. When he’d charged in there after reading Alex’s first letter, his sole intent had been to try and tear down the hesitation between them, to get them on the same page. They’d certainly accomplished that.

“Can we just stay like this forever?” Alex mumbled behind him, lips brushing against Henry’s skin.

Henry chuckled sleepily. “Too hungry for that, sorry.”

Alex gave a playfully suffering sigh, pressing a kiss to Henry’s shoulder before sitting up with a yawn. “Well, when you put it that way.”

Henry rolled over to watch Alex get out of bed which confirmed that, yep, it hadn’t just been the endorphins of sex. Alex looked f*cking amazing.

“We need to shower separately,” Henry said. “Otherwise, I do not think we are going to make it out of this room before noon.”

Alex laughed. “Alright, give me five. I’ve gotten good at quick showers. Then I’ll come help you get your hand wrapped up.”

Alex came around to Henry’s side of the bed and gave him a quick kiss before vanishing into the bathroom. He was true to his word, emerging a short time later with a towel around his waist. Henry groaned and pulled a pillow over his face, earning a snicker from Alex.

“It’s safe, you can remove the pillow,” Alex said a couple minutes later.

Henry peeked out, finding Alex standing there in faded jeans and a deep blue button-up, in the process of rolling up his sleeves.

“Oh that is one-hundred-percent not safe,” Henry replied.

Alex shrugged, failing to suppress a smile. “Can’t help it if just being around me is enough to get you undone.”

“Rolling up the sleeves is cheating.”

Alex just grinned.

They got Henry’s hand wrapped in plastic, then Henry went to take a shower while Alex went to get breakfast started. The shower was definitely a little cold.

In the kitchen Alex had turned on some instrumental Mexican music and was humming along to it as he made coffee and tea. Henry hovered in the hallway, watching him dance around, looking completely at ease. He couldn’t really wrap his head around the fact that, a week ago, he’d been locked up and left to die in a wildfire on another continent, completely sure that if he somehow lived, he was never going to get a life like this again. Yet here he was, basically standing in the middle of a dream he’d never even let himself have, and it was even better than he could have imagined.

The microwave dinged and Alex turned to it, noticing Henry in the process.

“Dad made us a big dish of that breakfast casserole you love,” Alex said. “Figured that would be a good option.”

Henry’s stomach rumbled. “You figured correctly.”

It tasted even better than Henry remembered. And it was just good to eat something different for once. Something that was still warm and had flavor. They’d never exactly starved him at the compound, at least not until towards the end, but all the food he did get had certainly been very…British.

“So,” Alex said, once they’d finished. “Your hand. Still okay with me changing the bandages?”

Henry nodded. He was actually kind of fascinated by the idea of seeing Alex put those new skills to use.

“Cool. Be right back.” Alex got up, kissing Henry’s forehead as he passed, and came back a moment later with a big, flat red bag. He unzippered it and laid it open on the table before sliding on a set of gloves. The kit was full of all sorts of things Henry couldn’t identify.

“Can you talk me through what you’re doing?” Henry asked.

“Of course. And let me know if anything hurts, alright?”

Henry nodded, watching closely as Alex unwound and peeled back the layers of the bandage. The skin underneath did not look as bad as Henry had expected. It was a little red, but actually pretty clean. The damage was just one line that arced from the lower, middle back of his palm, just above his wrist, around the pinky side of his hand, and stopped about halfway up his palm and a couple centimeters or so onto it. At the base of his thumb was another small cut, about three centimeters wide.

Alex gently turned Henry’s hand over a few times, inspecting it. He pointed out where the stitches were and explained what type they were, why that type had been used. Henry nodded along, only half hearing it. He was more focused on Alex’s fingers, honestly. The care and skill in their movements.

“Can you feel this?” Alex asked, running his finger feather-light down the side of Henry’s palm and up the inside of his pinky.

“Not much,” Henry said. “It’s barely there, and it sort of fades out entirely about halfway up my palm.”

“What about this?” Alex asked, doing the same movement again across Henry’s palm and up his ring finger.

“The same,” Henry answered.

Alex did it a third time on Henry’s middle finger.

“That one I can feel it all the way.”

“Try to curl them just a touch?”

Henry did, but not much happened with his pinky and ring finger.

Alex frowned, swallowing heavily.

Henry reached out with his other hand and curled a finger under Alex’s chin, tilting his face up so they were looking at one another.

“Honestly, Alex, I don’t care. I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t done what I did.” Henry meant it. Losing feeling in a couple fingers on his non-dominant hand didn’t even register against everything else. Not with what it had lead to.

Alex’s frown didn’t go away, though. He just pulled back slightly, starting to explain what he was doing as he bandaged Henry’s hand back up. Henry let him do it, waiting until Alex was done to try and talk about it.

“Talk to me, please,” Henry said.

Alex didn’t say anything for a long minute as he cleaned up, studiously packing stuff back into his bag.

“I keep thinking about it,” Alex finally said, the words rushing out of him. “About you being caught in that house while it was on fire. What you had to do to get yourself out.”

“Okay,” Henry said, reaching out to twine their fingers together. “I want you to know that I’m not just saying this to try and make you feel better, but because it’s true. I really don’t remember that day at all. What I do remember are just little snapshots, and they don’t have any physical feelings attached. And, again, I don’t regret anything about what I did.”

Alex blew out a long breath, but nodded. “I think I just…need a little more distance from everything that happened that day. It was a lot, even before we found you.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Henry said. “I should’ve asked before, your crew that you were with, are they all okay?”

Alex smiled this time and nodded again. “Everyone’s fine. Came home to some very worried partners, but they’re okay.”

“Tell me about them?” Henry asked. “Your crew?”

Alex’s whole expression shifted into a grin at that. “Okay, but you need to change first.”

“Change?” Henry said, knowing he had to look confused.

“Jeans and boots, come on,” Alex said, waving Henry towards his room.

Still confused, Henry got up and did as asked. He came back out to find Alex had donned a pair of shiny black cowboy boots, and a black cowboy hat. He was grinning even more now, holding out a hand for Henry. Henry took it, following Alex out into the pleasantly, but not overwhelmingly, warm sunshine. They walked across the wide driveway to the barn on the other side, boots crunching on the gravel. Alex led him inside, revealing two gorgeous horses standing with their heads hanging out of their stalls; a blue roan and a slightly smaller paint.

“Oh!” Henry said, immediately going up to the paint and holding out his hand for the horse to sniff. The horse leaned in, nuzzling Henry’s hand. Alex was watching with a huge smile on his face.

“The property’s big, and not very ATV friendly in some spots,” Alex said. “Want to go see it?”

“Yes,” Henry said, eagerness clear in his voice.

Henry watched as Alex tacked up both horses—the paint was named Amarillo and the roan was her son, named Manchado. Alex gave Henry a quick rundown on the differences in riding Western compared to English, then led Manchado over to a mounting block since Henry couldn’t hang onto the saddle properly to pull himself up onto the tall horse.

“He’s a good boy, very easy rider,” Alex said, giving Manchado a pat on the shoulder once Henry was in place. “Just follows his mother everywhere.”

Alex filled a couple waterbottles for them, securing them to his own saddle, then mounted up himself.

“Who taught you to ride?” Henry asked as they exited the barn. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he’d missed riding. He hadn’t done it much at all after he’d moved to New York, and finally being back in the saddle—even if it was a totally different style of riding—felt as freeing as it always had.

“That would be Nate,” Alex said, leading them off to the west.

For a moment, Henry’s body tensed up, but almost as soon as it happened it was gone. It took him a second to realize that they’d just made it farther than the wall had been at the compound. Alex glanced at him like he knew, smiling gently.

“So Nate,” Alex continued. “Great guy. Runs the ranch and hardware store in town. Used to be the chief of the fire department and still does a lot of work with us. He’s the one who introduced me to the department in the first place. Pretty sure it was all a very drawn out scheme to get me to join up, though it started as just an invitation to come get drinks with them whenever I wanted to.”

Alex kept going, talking all about his friends. Though, the longer he talked, the more Henry realized Alex was actually talking about family. It seemed like he was especially close to a guy named Miguel, as well as Miguel’s wife and kids, as they all came up more often than anyone else. Henry was content to listen, letting Alex’s voice flow over him as they rode. Manchado was indeed an easy ride, which was good because Henry had never ridden western before in his life. He kept almost doing the English thing out of instinct, only stopping at the last moment. Manchado didn’t seem to notice, just happily following his mother like Alex had said.

“I have a slight confession to make,” Alex said, glancing sideways at Henry. They were riding close enough that their knees almost brushed.

“Oh?”

“Do you remember that guard with the two full sleeves of tattoos?”

“Kind of?” Henry said.

“That wasn’t a guard,” Alex told him, looking a little guilty. “That was Miguel. I knew Nora had vetted the actual guards, and obviously I trust her, but I needed someone else I actually knew on that plane with us when we flew home. And I know Miguel. He’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I trust him with my life. More to the point, I trust him with your life.”

Well that was a hell of an endorsem*nt. Henry knew that wasn’t a level of trust Alex would’ve given easily even before all of this had happened, let alone now.

“I can’t wait to meet him. Actually meet him.”

Alex smiled, relaxing into his saddle. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about him sooner.”

Henry shook his head. “It’s alright, I understand. And I’m glad you did it, honestly. Glad you had him there so you wouldn’t have to be alone, I mean. Was he there when I was rescued?”

Alex nodded. “I was driving when we pulled up to the house, then he slid over and took the driver’s seat when Ripper and I went to get you. He drove us out while Ripper radioed in for help, and I treated your hand in the back.”

Henry’s list of people to thank kept getting longer.

After awhile they dismounted near a small spring surround by a tumble of rocks, some as big as cars.

“This is my favorite spot,” Alex said.

Henry could see why. It was gorgeous, and this was late fall. He couldn’t wait to see it in the spring when everything came back to life. They left the horses to graze nearby, settling on a large, flat rock with a good view. Henry loved that it still felt just as easy to be quiet around Alex as it did to talk to him.

“What I said yesterday,” Henry said after awhile. “About not wanting to tell you about what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Alex said.

“I know, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here,” Henry said. He’d been thinking about this ever since Alex’s reaction to bandaging his hand. “There were bad moments, but, more than anything else, it was just boring. I wasn’t getting tortured, or made to watch propaganda about how great it is to be straight, or anything like that. I was just left alone in a big house with nothing to do but stare at the walls all day.”

“That’s still bad, Henry,” Alex said.

“I’m not denying that,” Henry agreed. “I just…I want you to know the reality of it, even if I’m not ready to share the details.”

Alex nodded slowly a few times, then leaned over to pull Henry into a hug. Henry returned it gratefully. They stayed like that for a few minutes before pulling back.

“So what happens next?” Henry asked.

Alex turned his hands over and gave a little shrug. “Where do you want to start?”

“Us?” Henry said. “I mean, I know we established last night that we’re both all in. But that’s not life, not all of it anyway. You’ve got a job, two, for a start. Do you need to be going back to court? The fire station?”

“Well, as for court all my cases are covered until about mid-January at this point. We’re going into a slow time of year anyway, so that wasn’t too hard to do. The station is good without me for the moment, but I did want to talk to you about it,” Alex said.

“Go on,” Henry encouraged.

Alex turned so he was facing Henry, rather than just sitting alongside him. “I think it would be fair to say that you probably never imagined me being a firefighter, right?”

“I can honestly say it never once crossed my mind,” Henry answered.

Alex took a deep breath. “It is dangerous, Henry. I won’t lie and say it isn’t. What happened in Australia is proof of that. We’re a small department, so we don’t get nearly as many actual fire calls as a lot of others, but we do get them, and there’s other ways the job can be dangerous as well. If you aren’t comfortable with me doing this, I’m willing to step back.”

“Alex, I’d never ask you to do that,” Henry said quickly. “I can see how much it means to you.”

“Not as much as you mean to me,” Alex said simply. “And I wouldn’t just turn my back on them and cut off any work I did with them. There’s other ways I can still help out that aren’t active fire work. Please just take a minute to really think about it, okay?”

Henry did, mulling over the potential dangers and weighing them against how much Alex lit up when he talked about his work. It was a little scary, thinking of Alex walking into burning buildings. But after listening to Alex spend an hour talking about everyone he worked with, Henry realized he didn’t need to be nearly as worried as long as Alex was with them. They clearly had his back.

“How about a sort of half-step,” Henry said. “No more trips to work fires out of the country, or even the state for right now.” At least that way, if something happened, Alex would be close to home. Close to Henry.

“I am completely okay with that,” Alex said. “And I’ll cut my hours in half too, when I do go back. But that probably won’t be for a little while either. I need to be here with you.”

Henry leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “Deal.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” Alex said.

Henry nodded. “I’m not saying it doesn’t worry me a little. But not enough for me to ask you to stop. Now, if I had come back to find you still living in New York and crawling into burning high rises every day, this would be a very different conversation.”

“Fair, fair,” Alex said with a laugh. “But please know that, if you change your mind, I want you to tell me so we can figure it out together.”

“I will,” Henry assured.

“What next?” Alex asked.

Henry wasn’t sure he actually did want to address what was next on his mind, but he was getting sick of just wondering.

“What’s going on in England?” That was the best thing he could come up with to try and encompass all of it in one question.

Alex leaned back on his hands, taking a deep breath. “I talked to Bea about that last night, and she told me that, well…that Philip is trying to have Mary removed from power. He recalled Parliament to vote on it, which was still ongoing when I last checked my phone for updates.”

That didn’t make any sense, and Henry said as much. “I know you said you didn’t think Philip is involved, but he’s still Philip. He’s still had a stick up his ass about how great the monarchy is since the day he was born. He worships the ground Mary walks on.”

“Yes, but he’s a parent now and that’s…changed things,” Alex said.

Henry tensed at the mention of Philip’s kids. They were such strange figures in Henry’s mind. Small and totally innocent, but still helplessly entrenched in every moment of what had happened.

“Changed things how?” Henry asked.

“I didn’t talk to Philip at all after you vanished,” Alex said. “In fact, I kind of hate-stalked him and Mary for awhile. Then, a couple days before we rescued you, Philip just showed up in the fire camp.”

“If you’re trying to make this less confusing, you’re failing,” Henry said.

Alex chuckled. “Yeah, that part confused me too. He gave the worst speech about supporting all us firefighters and sh*t, and I just couldn’t take it. So I went up to tell him off, thinking we’d spar a bit and he’d leave. But he just immediately looked like a kicked puppy once I told him off.”

Henry could not imagine his brother ever looking like a kicked puppy over anything.

“It actually made me feel bad,” Alex continued. “So I followed him and ended up taking him out on a drive to see some of the fires, and the damage that was being caused. I just wanted him to actually understand it, you know? Even if I didn’t like him much at that point, I knew having him on our side could be useful. While we were out there, he told me about his son. James.”

“What about him?” Henry said.

Alex sighed, expression turning sad. “He’s sick, apparently. Really sick. He’s got some sort of heart condition, and he was born premature. Philip was in Australia to visit with a specialist doctor he thought could help. Visiting the fire camp was just his cover because they’re trying to keep everything out of the press.”

A shiver went down Henry’s spine as it all clicked into place. He’d thought that, with James born, Philip had his heir and his spare. That Mary was going to kill him and be done with it any day. But if James was sick, then Philip didn’t have his spare. Henry realized he might only be alive in that moment because on the other side of the world an innocent baby was fighting for his life. His nephew was fighting for his life.

“Hey, hey, what’s happening?” Alex said, alarm in his voice as he leaned in and reached for Henry who’d curled forward as the weight of that realization hit him. Henry pulled Alex in closer, burying his face into Alex’s shoulder as his breathing sped up. Alex held him tightly, cradling Henry’s head with one hand.

Henry realized he needed to tell Alex this part, to just have it out there with the only person in the world who could pull him through it.

“That’s why she didn’t kill me,” Henry mumbled. “That’s why she didn’t just kill me outright in the beginning, or the whole time I was there. She was trying to protect the line of succession in case Philip didn’t have kids.”

Alex went tense around him, and Henry knew he was smart enough to work out all the different things that might’ve meant. But Alex didn’t say anything, just hugged Henry closer.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Henry whispered. “Especially Bea and Philip. I don’t want them to know.”

Henry felt Alex nod, but he still didn’t say anything. Henry pulled back slightly, looking up to find that Alex looked absolutely furious. Henry had never seen him that mad. It was hard to see, knowing how much pain the whole idea clearly caused Alex. Reaching out, Henry wrapped one hand around the side of Alex’s neck, under his ear, thumb resting on Alex’s cheek.

“It’s over,” Henry said. “Just let it be over, please.”

“I’ve never wanted to kill someone before,” Alex answered. “Not really. But that changed the second I realized it was you in the truck, because I knew that the only way this had happened was if she had done it.”

“I understand,” Henry assured. He was still trying to figure out his own feelings on what he wanted to happen to Mary, the guards, and anyone else who might’ve helped, but he wasn’t surprised to know that these were Alex’s.

Alex relaxed slightly, seeming relieved that his anger hadn’t be rebuffed at all. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from her.”

Henry shook his head. “There was nothing you could have done. Even if you and I had never gotten together, she still would’ve hated me. And I don’t think I could’ve kept going the way I was before we got together. I would’ve ended up with someone else. Another man.” Or, if Henry was being fully honest, he might’ve ended up dead at his own hand. Maybe not intentionally, but passively. A wrong step near a bus. A fall from a horse that he didn’t quite land as well as he could’ve. “I wish what happened hadn’t, but I never regretted a second with you.”

Alex smiled tightly, pulling him back into a comforting hug. “I love you, baby.”

Henry wrapped himself up in the warmth the sound of that familiar endearment brought.

When they finally separated a couple minutes later, Henry felt lighter. There was none of that sensation of being overwhelmed like when they’d first tried talking to one another. Just the contentment of laying something heavy on the table between them, and coming out the other side of it lighter because now they could carry it together.

“So. Parliament,” Henry said. “Philip’s really doing it? He’s really trying to get her off the throne for this?”

Alex nodded. “And to protect James, I assume. Mary’s dementia has also gotten quite bad, that’s another thing he shared with me when we talked. That’s not to say he doesn’t care about you. I think he really does. When he was telling me about James, he said he wanted to talk to you about it more than anyone else in the world, and he looked absolutely devastated that he couldn’t.”

“Really?” Henry said, kind of surprised. His brother sounded like a very different person than the one he remembered.

“Yeah.”

Henry nodded slowly, looking out at everything around them as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Let’s head back to the house. I think…I need to talk to my brother.”

Chapter 36: Calling Philip

Chapter Text

November 2028

Alex

Alex took them on a somewhat quicker route back to the house, but it was still going to take a little time; they’d gone about as far as they could on the ranch without leaving the property.

“Am I even legally in this country right now?” Henry asked as they walked.

“Probably?” Alex said. “Look, the extent of my knowledge on that front is that my mom said she would handle it, and she was using her scary President Mom voice when she said it, so I assume it is all sorted or will be very shortly.”

Henry smiled softly, seeming to get lost in his own head for a moment. “How is she? And everyone else too?”

“She’s good. Leo forced her into taking a year off after her second term ended, but now they’re both working together on a bunch of charity projects. Actually partnered with Pez on a couple things too. Pretty sure Pez and Leo could charitably take over the world if they set their minds too it.”

Henry laughed. “Oh, yes, I imagine they’re a force to be reckoned with now that Leo isn’t restricted by the presidency.”

“Indeed. And Dad is good. Making a bid for California Governor in the next election, and likely going to get it. Oh!” Alex grinned slyly at Henry. “He’s got a girlfriend too.”

Henry’s brows went up. He’d always gotten the impression that Oscar was kind of one and done with Ellen when it came to serious relationships. “Oh really?”

“Mmmmmmhm. Her name is Justine. They met about a year ago at a rally for trans healthcare access.” Alex had only met Justine once so far, but he liked her. She was whip smart and loved going toe to toe with his dad over just about any topic, but in a healthier way than his parents ever had.

“Good for him,” Henry said.

“Very. As for Pez, Nora, and June, they’re all doing good, but if you want to know more about that, you’ve got to ask them.” Alex was trying hard to suppress his smile, but figured he was likely failing. If Henry pressed he would explain, but he really thought it should at least be up to Pez to tell his best friend about the fact that he was now doubly married and the three of them were only a handful of months away from being parents to twins.

“Well alright,” Henry said, a playfully suspicious look on his face. “Pez was there, right? In Australia?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, he was able to make it out pretty quick.”

They made the rest of the ride in silence, taking the horses to the barn once they reached the house. Henry helped brush down the horses, then Alex turned them out in the small field behind the barn.

“How do you want to do this?” Alex asked once they were in the house. “Just a phone call, or do you want to Facetime him? And do you want me there?”

Alex had to admit, he was a little nervous for this call. Ever since they’d made it home, it had felt like they’d been safe in their little cut off bubble. Sure they’d had to struggle through their personal feelings, and they’d each reached out to others here and there, but this felt bigger. This felt like a real step. There could be answers and resolutions in this call. Or there could be more pain. Or both. Or nothing at all.

“Yes, I want you here,” Henry said. “And…Facetime. I need to see him when he answers my questions.”

Alex nodded, going to get everything set up. He grabbed his laptop out of his office and brought it to the livingroom, setting it on the coffee table on a pile of books. He sent a text to Philip saying that Henry wanted to have the discussion, and that Philip needed to go somewhere private for it. Philip texted back that he’d been about to call Alex anyway, and that he just needed a few minutes to get set up if they were going to do a video chat.

Next to Alex on the couch, Henry was starting to get tense. Alex slid an arm around behind him, making sure they were as close as they could get. Henry leaned into him heavily, but stayed stiff. When the call from Philip came up on Alex’s screen, he leaned forward and tapped to answer. Philip’s face came up and he looked absolutely haggard. The room he was in was plain, just regular drywall and standard office furniture. He spun his device around to show that no one else was in the room with him.

“Henry—” Phillip started.

Henry held up a hand. “Firstly, how is your son? Alex told me he’s sick.”

Philip looked surprised at the question but Alex thought he caught a hint of something like relief. “James is doing pretty good. I’ve sent Martha and the children to stay with her sister in Paris. There’s another hospital there that has the right sort of facilities for James, and they have been very accommodating to the strange situation.”

“Is he in the hospital?” Henry asked.

Philip shook his head. “Not at the moment, thankfully. But he still has a lot of appointments and tests.”

“You did get a chance to speak to the doctor in Sydney again, right? That’s why you were in the hospital that day?” Alex asked.

“Yes, and he’s very hopeful about James’s case. James will be starting the new treatment regimen within the next couple of days. Also, Alex, since you mentioned the hospital—”

“I am not sorry for slamming you against the wall,” Alex said simply.

Henry turned to him with a confused look and Alex gave a brief explanation, which had Henry smiling and rolling his eyes. It might’ve been a bit much, but Henry could understand the fear that had made Alex do it.

“Yes, and then your little pack of pitbull firefighters threatened to murder me once I got outside,” Philip said.

Alex grinned. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I’m a little sorry, now that I know for sure you’re on our side in this. But still. They’re a protective bunch, and sometimes they bite.”

“Americans,” Philip muttered, shaking his head. He turned his attention back to Henry. “My point was, Henry, that I have come to the conclusion that Alexander would clearly fight God to keep you safe, and I am under the strong impression that he would win. You are lucky to have him.”

Henry smiled at Alex. “Stupidly lucky.”

Alex leaned in and kissed Henry’s cheek.

“So,” Henry said, looking back at the computer screen. “What’s…going on?”

Philip took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally managing to get out four words, “The Monarchy is over.”

Alex felt his jaw drop, but immediately snapped it shut and turned to Henry.

“What do you mean ‘over’?” Henry asked. He looked more confused than anything, but Alex could see just a slight undercurrent of anxiety starting to tighten his shoulders.

“I mean that, as of—” Philip glanced off screen—“twenty-three minutes ago, Parliament has voted to entirely dismantle the monarchical system in the United Kingdom.”

Alex could feel Henry’s breathing starting to speed up, so he stepped in to try and get some better answers. “Bea told me you were just trying to have Mary removed.”

“I…went in with that,” Philip said. “But I also went in willing to end the entire bloody system if it came to that, I just hadn’t told anyone. I needed to see how things progressed, and I was afraid if I came in that strongly the staunch monarchists wouldn’t even be willing to come to the table.”

Alex sat forward a little, arm now crossed in front of Henry and hand resting on Henry’s leg so he could put himself between Henry and the screen. One look in Henry’s eyes was enough to show that this was way too much.

“Philip, I need to mute this and turn off our camera for a minute,” Alex said. He did it without waiting for Philip to respond, then turned his full attention back to Henry. “Henry?”

Henry, jaw tight, just shook his head a few times.

“You didn’t do this,” Alex said. “This happened because of Mary and Mary alone.”

“But history will say I did,” Henry replied, voice strangled.

“f*ck history,” Alex answered, packing as much earnestness into it as he could. “I know you and I have always struggled with our places in it, and who we are compared to what we were born into. People are always going to know our names, for reasons good and bad. There’s nothing that we can do to change that. We have to focus on what matters, and that’s the people around us who will always know the truth and have our backs. You did not do this. You are not responsible for this at all.”

“Hundreds of years, Alex,” Henry said, a few tears escaping his eyes and his breathing speeding up. Alex reached up to cup Henry’s face and wipe the tears away.

“The writing has been on the wall for decades,” Alex replied. “It was going to end soon one way or another. Mary could have chosen a graceful exit, but she didn’t. She choose violence and hatred and cruelty, and that is on her. She made the decision to end it this way, and Philip made the decision to call it over. Not. You.”

Henry didn’t look entirely convinced, but he managed a nod. Alex pulled him into a hug, rubbing Henry’s back until his breathing evened out a little.

“Do you want to keep talking to Philip, or do you want to come back to this later?” Alex asked.

Henry took a few long, shaky, breaths that made Alex’s heart ache. “Keep talking. I just want to get this over with.”

Alex nodded, resuming his place tucked up next to Henry before turning the camera and microphone back on. Philip was still sitting there, looking worried.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

Alex cut him off. “Explain what happened, start to finish.”

Philip swallowed and nodded. “Please stop me if you want more detail on any part.”

He explained how he had flown home while coordinating with a few select, trusted staff to have Mary kept out of the loop up in Scotland, which wasn’t hard due to her general aversion to technology. He’d then gone straight to the Prime Minister upon landing and laid out everything not only about Henry, but about Mary’s condition and other threats she had made to other people. The Prime Minister had then summoned an emergency session of Parliament and discussion on the topic had begun in earnest. While this was occurring, Philip had forensic accountants digging through all of Mary’s finances for evidence and bringing it into the Parliamentary session as it was found.

“You won’t find anything about what happened to me in Mary’s accounts,” Henry said, voice quiet.

Alex knew that was true, given what Nora had told him, but he didn’t say as much. Not over an unprotected video chat like this. He still had no idea how Mary had done it though.

“Yes, we had been having trouble with figuring out where she got the funds to do all of this,” Philip said.

“She used my accounts,” Henry said simply. “Why doesn’t really matter, but that’s how she covered it up. She knew I loathed using any money from the accounts, so I wasn’t watching them closely, and she assumed no one else would think to look there after I was gone.”

An angry little tick appeared on Philip’s cheek, and Alex was pretty sure there was one on his face too. How f*cking dare she?

“That is good to know,” Philip said. “We’ll look into it.”

Philip continued his explanation, detailing all the back and forth. He had laid everything on the table for Parliament, from the beginnings of Mary’s memory issues even before Alex and Henry had gotten together to her quick decline into full-blown dementia that had manifested itself in such dangerous ways. At that point Parliament had still been pretty evenly split. There were the handful that had always wanted the monarchy to end and immediately wanted to take it all the way. There were those who were content with quietly pushing Mary out and putting Philip on the throne while covering up what had happened to Henry as much as they could; many of them just wanted it to go away as quietly as possible. And there were those who were staunchly against any sort of punishment for Mary. Of the last group, they were split pretty evenly themselves on thinking she had done nothing wrong, and agreeing that she had done something wrong, but not wanting to take such “heavy-handed” measures against her.

In the end the argument had devolved mostly into how this would effect the future of the United Kingdom with or without a monarchy. What would each outcome do to international relations? How would the populace react? What would be the effect on the economy?

“I just got fed up listening to them going around in circles,” Philip said. “So I stood up and said that I was abdicating, and abdicating on behalf of my children as well, no matter what the law says about Mary being able to take custody of them, and that I knew Bea would follow my lead. And of course you would have no interest in any of it anymore either, Henry, so if they wanted to continue with the monarchy, they’d be dealing with a line of succession crisis on top of dealing with a Queen who had gone mad. Apparently they did not find that appealing.”

Alex glanced at Henry at the mention of the line of succession, but if the comment bothered Henry he didn’t show it.

“So what happens to Mary now?” Alex asked.

“What we had planned,” Philip answered. “She will be spending the rest of her life at Sandringham under heavy guard with no access to phones or the internet, with as many limits on her comfort as I can possibly put in place.”

“Does she know?” Henry asked.

Philip looked down and shook his head. “It’s too late to tell her today. I’m going to Scotland myself to tell her in the morning.”

Everyone went quiet, sitting with the knowledge of what was occurring. Alex honestly couldn’t pin down how he felt about any of it right now. He was just worried about Henry. He’d figure out his own feelings later.

“When will it be announced publicly?” Alex asked. “And how?”

“Tomorrow, once Mary has been informed. We didn’t want to risk the news getting to her another way,” Philip explained. “As for how, I was hoping to discuss that with the two of you. There are already a lot of rumors in the press about what is happening, but so far we haven’t released any statements, as we, again, did not want Mary to know. But we’ll have to make a clear statement about all of it tomorrow.”

Henry just leaned sideways slightly, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

“We don’t want to cover this up,” Philip said. “But that doesn’t mean we have to release every detail to the public.”

“Please don’t,” Henry murmured.

Alex gave Henry a gentle squeeze. “Can you say that what occurred with Henry is a private matter, and that Mary was involved in causing him harm, but that the decision to remove her was ultimately for her own mental health? And the decision to end the monarchy was not made lightly but with everyone’s best interests in mind? Or something in that vein?”

Philip nodded. “That was the direction I was leaning, yes. Would you be willing to read over the statement before I give it?” Philip cast his eyes between Alex and Henry.

“Alex can,” Henry said, his voice still quiet.

Alex nodded. “Send it to me when you have it. But for now, I think we need to be done.”

“Of course. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any other questions.”

“Get some rest, Pip,” Henry murmured. “You’ve got a hell of a day tomorrow.”

Philip smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Thank you.”

Alex ended the call, then wrapped both arms around Henry. They stayed like that for a long, long time, neither speaking. David came and joined them, laying his head in Henry’s lap.

“Should we be consulting with a press team?” Henry said after awhile.

Alex hated that that was his first question, even if he knew it needed to be asked. “I’ll handle it.”

Henry nodded.

Bea tried to call them, but neither answered. Alex texted her back that they just needed a little more time to wrap their heads around it. She said okay and to tell Henry that she loved him.

Finally, maybe another hour later, Henry took a deep breath and sat up, running a hand back through his hair. “You said Pez is good right now? Because I could really use some happy news.”

Alex grinned. For this, he was willing to put everything else aside for a little longer. “Oh, if you call him it will be nothing but stupidly happy news, I promise.”

Henry nodded and reached out to the laptop, starting a call to Pez, who answered after a few rings.

“Henry! My friend!” Pez said, smiling so wide it looked like it had to hurt.

Henry smiled back, his whole body relaxing as he sunk back into the couch next to Alex. “Hi. Sorry it took me so long to call.”

Pez waved away the words. “Pshaw. It’s nothing. I know your darling Alexander has been taking plenty good care of you.”

“He really has. He also told me that you have some happy news?”

Alex was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Pez dramatically clutched his chest, looking at Alex. “You didn’t tell him?”

“That’s all yours to tell,” Alex said. “But hurry the f*ck up because I want him to know.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Pez said. He scrambled out of frame and there was a small crashing sound in the background, as well as a door opening. Pez was back a second later, breathing hard and grinning like a fool. “I don’t even know where to start!”

Henry looked between Pez and Alex with amusem*nt.

“Just tell him,” Alex laughed.

“Well, firstly, I am married to the stunning combination of extraordinarily gorgeous women that is June and Nora.” Pez held up both his hands, revealing the wedding rings on each of his ring fingers.

It was Henry’s turn to laugh. “Oh, that’s fantastic! Congratulations! You better send me the wedding pictures.”

“Of course, of course,” Pez said. “But wait, that’s not all!”

With a flourish, Pez picked up something off his desk, lifted it up, and let it fall open. It was a set of ultrasound pictures, the most recent from what Alex could tell. June had sent them while he’d been in Australia. Both twins were healthy, and they were identical little girls.

Henry’s mouth dropped open. “What?!”

Pez nodded, holding one of the photos closer to the camera. “June is just over four months along, with twin girls.”

“Pezza that is amazing!” Henry said. “Congratulations!” Henry rounded on Alex, still smiling. “How did you keep this a secret?”

“Painfully!” Alex laughed. “I just really wanted Pez to be able to tell you himself.”

Henry turned back to the screen, face softening as Pez held up each picture one at a time. When Pez pulled the pictures away he was still smiling, but there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m glad they’ll get to know their Uncle Henry,” Pez said.

Henry smiled, starting to look a little misty-eyed himself. “I can’t wait to meet them. Give June a hug and a kiss for me, okay? And Nora too.”

Pez nodded. “I will.”

They all said their goodbyes, promising to talk again soon, and then hung up.

“Well,” Henry said after a minute. “That was a roller coaster.”

“Want to talk about it?” Alex asked.

“Not the first part,” Henry said. “Not right now. But that second part, yes. Have they had a baby shower yet?”

Alex shook his head. “They wanted to wait until closer to the birth, but not too close since twins can come early. They were thinking around seven months, so probably late February.”

“Good. That gives us plenty of time to figure out how to spoil these two kids,” Henry said.

It made Alex’s heart sing to see just how happy Henry looked right now. Life went on, no matter how bad things had been for awhile there, or how messy things were about to be in the news and in history books. Life went on.

Chapter 37: Driving

Chapter Text

December 2028

Alex

“Be safe,” Alex said, giving Henry a kiss on the cheek.

Henry smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, gave a little nod, and went through the door into the garage. Alex listened as Henry opened the garage, started his car, and pulled out. Only once the sound of the car had faded completely did Alex let himself buckle under the weight of it. A shaky breath pushed its way past his lips and he put his elbows on the kitchen counter, dropping his head into his hands.

This had been the routine for the last week, ever since his mom had managed to finagle a driver’s license for Henry. They’d have a generally decent day at home; usually Henry would spend a lot of it reading while Alex did whatever odd jobs caught his attention to try and keep himself busy. They’d cuddle on the couch and talk about lighter things. June’s pregnancy. Bea’s wedding. Alex’s jobs. Sometimes they’d go for a short horse ride. The closest they’d ever get to talking about what had happened was a gentle reassurance every morning that Mary was still locked away at Sandringham. Henry never wanted more detail than that. At the end of the day they’d have dinner and after dinner Henry would leave.

The first time it had happened Henry hadn’t come back until three in the morning. Alex had spent the hours pacing worriedly back and forth across the livingroom, constantly going out on the porch to look down the driveway for headlights. At some point he’d fallen asleep on the couch, utterly exhausted with worry. He’d woken up to Henry kneeling next to the couch and brushing his hair out of his face, apologizing for being gone so long.

Since then Henry hadn’t stayed out any later than midnight, but Alex still felt like he was wound as tight as a spring the entire time. Henry would text him on occasion, which helped a lot, but still.

Alex’s phone buzzed on the counter next to him, making him jump. For half a second he thought it was Henry, but the face on the screen was Miguel’s.

“Hi,” Alex said, trying not to sound too tense.

“Howdy. What are you up to this evening?”

Alex spun around so he was leaning back against the counter now. “Mmm. Well, Henry’s out driving to clear his head so I’m…standing in our kitchen trying not to have a panic attack about that.”

“Sounds like you need a distraction. Which is convenient, because I wanted to pick your brain about something. Meet me at the water tank?” Miguel asked.

The water tank on the corner of the ranch property—the one Alex had donated the land for over three years earlier—had become he and Miguel’s meeting spot. It was about halfway between their houses, though a little closer to Alex’s, which made it a good place to meet up for a quick chat when Miguel didn’t want to be away from home and the kids for too long.

Alex agreed immediately, hanging up and heading out front. There wasn’t room for his truck in the garage right now, so it was parked over in front of the barn instead. At the tank—which was partially buried underground—Alex found Miguel’s truck already parked.

“Were you already here?” Alex asked once he got out.

Miguel, who had been sitting in his driver’s seat listening to music with the windows rolled down, grinned and sighed. “Maybe. Came out here to think. Kept thinking in circles, so I called you.”

“Well that’s ominous,” Alex said, crossing his arms on the window.

Miguel waved him back and got out. “Nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s just. Well. Victoria pulled me in for a chat today.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. She’s finally retiring and wants you to take over as chief?”

Miguel spluttered. “She told you?”

Alex rolled his eyes with a smile. “No, but it’s kind of obvious. She’s been dropping hints about retiring for months now, and of course she’d ask you to take over.”

Miguel groaned, throwing up his hands and starting to pace around, gravel crunching under his feet as he walked. “Well, you’re right that it is what she wanted to talk about. Apparently Australia was her way of basically testing me out as chief. She liked how I handled it, including the unexpected bits at the end there.”

Alex snorted. “That’s a very mild description of rescuing a kidnapped prince and kicking off the biggest international scandal the world has seen in the modern era, ending a centuries old monarchy, that is also the world’s most famous monarchy, in the process. But okay.”

Now it was Miguel’s turn to raise an eyebrow, but he added putting his hands on his hips for a little extra emphasis. “Okay, time for a conversation pivot, I think. You good, man? Because, yeah, we’ve been texting constantly, but we’ve barely talked. Which is fine. I get it. But, again, you good?”

Alex opened and closed his mouth a few times. Was he good? He had no f*cking idea. In the end all he managed was a half-hearted little shrug. Miguel nodded and walked to the back of Alex’s truck, popping open the tailgate. He hopped on and patted the spot next to him in invitation. Alex took it, crossing his arms as he sat.

“Let’s pivot back to you for a second,” Alex said. “We’ll deal with me in a minute. You’re going to take it right?”

Miguel sighed, leaning back on his hands. “I mean…I don’t know, Alex. I love what I do. I love going out on calls and being in the thick of it. Being chief would mean less of that. More paperwork. More schmoozing with local officials.”

“Being chief means whatever you want it to mean,” Alex said. “You could reconfigure things to work the way you want. As for schmoozing with local officials, I can take some of that weight for you, and train you how to take the rest.”

Miguel laughed. “I’m being completely serious here, sometimes I forget you’re the son of the former president and future whatever it is your dad is up to.”

Alex grinned. “That has been my general goal over the last five years, so good. But I do, in fact, still know how to do all that sh*t.”

“So you’ll help me figure it out?”

Alex lightly punched his thigh. “Of course I’ll help you figure it out, idiot. Besides, if you don’t take this, there really isn’t anyone else on the team who would be suited to it. Victoria would have to hire from outside, and then the whole place would change.”

“There is that,” Miguel agreed. “I guess…you’re looking at your new chief-in-training, then.”

Alex pulled him into a half headlock, half hug as they both laughed.

“Alright, alright, your turn,” Miguel said, straightening out his clothes once he’d wriggled free.

Alex flopped back into the bed of the truck with a groan, dragging his hands up over his face. “Henry and I are good. We got that figured out pretty quickly. But Henry himself is not good. And I’m not good because he’s not good. Also, I don’t think he really realizes how not good he is, which just makes things a lot more difficult. And I love him so f*cking much but I don’t know how to help him with this. I’ve brought up therapy a couple times, but he won’t go and I can’t blame him because the idea of having a stranger pick this apart is mortifying. Then there’s all the sh*t going on over in the U.K., which I’m sure you’ve seen on the news. It’s a f*cking nightmare over there right now. The whole government has been turned upsidedown at this point by what Philip did. It’s turning into a huge court case over Mary’s rights and the monarchy’s rights and the powers of Parliament and everything else. The BBC is starting to joke about a f*cking civil war except I’m not sure it’s even a joke anymore. And I have to shield Henry from all of it because he’s one piece of bad news away from shattering and—”

“Alex, breathe,” Miguel interrupted.

Alex did, taking a huge shuddering breath and then another. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, clearly you needed to unload. Have you not been talking to anyone else about all of this? Your sister? Your parents? Because it kind of sounds like you haven’t,” Miguel said.

“In bits and pieces,” Alex said. “I don’t know. Maybe I just…you’re outside of all this, you know? It’s different talking to you than it is to anyone who’s been in the thick of it since the beginning.”

“Fair enough,” Miguel said. “Here’s my question after all of that, then: are you in therapy? I understand if you can’t convince Henry to see someone right now, given what he went through. And I understand that trying to find a therapist who can handle this is probably a pretty exhausting task in and of itself, but I think you need it.”

Alex swallowed. “I’m fine. I just—”

“No, you’re not fine,” Miguel interrupted again, voice firm. “I have seen you in high stress situation after high stress situation over the last three years, and the one thing I’ve learned more than any other is that you don’t break. Like, to a concerning degree. You are damn good at putting yourself aside so that other people can be put first. But here’s the thing, Alex, if you keep putting yourself in the position of being the foundation for those around you, and then you break, you will bring a lot of people down with you. If you’re going to live your life being a foundational person, then you need to put in the work of taking care of yourself too, because you’ve got a lot of people relying on you. Especially, right now, Henry. You can’t help him through this if you’re not putting yourself first at least some of the time. So get a damn therapist.”

Alex rose up on his elbows, staring at Miguel. Miguel just crossed his arms and stared right back.

“You…are a very good friend,” Alex said at last.

Miguel’s lips twitched into a smile.

Alex sat all the way up and pulled him into a hug. They separated at the sound of a car coming down the road, and Alex turned to see that it was slowing down. Nothing was visible but the headlights, but as it got closer Alex recognized the car.

“That’s Henry’s.”

Henry’s car pulled in next to Alex’s and shut off.

Miguel lightly knocked the side of his fist against Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll head out.”

Alex held out a hand to stop him. “Actually…can you stay for a minute? I’d like to introduce you two.”

Alex wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but he figured Henry wouldn’t have stopped if he wasn’t willing to talk to Miguel, though he probably didn’t even know it was Miguel.

“Hey, baby,” Alex said, smiling at Henry as he got out of his car.

Henry came over and stood next Alex, snaking an arm around his waist and leaning in to give him a kiss. “Hello.”

Alex wrapped an arm around Henry as well, then gestured to Miguel. “This is Miguel. Miguel, Henry.”

Miguel grinned, holding out a hand. “Seriously beyond happy to finally meet you.”

Henry smiled and shook his hand. “It’s good to meet you too. Alex has told me a lot about you. Thank you, for helping get me out of there, and everything you did after. And also, thank you for being there as a friend for Alex for the last few years.”

Miguel laughed. “I’m just as stuck with him as you are at this point, I think.”

Alex stuck his tongue out in Miguel’s direction. “I am a delight and you both know it.”

Henry kissed his cheek. “Yes you are.”

Alex smiled, starting to relax a little. Henry didn’t seem at all uncomfortable, which was a relief. Having Henry pressed up against him was a relief as well. Knowing he was safe and that he’d come back.

“I hope you two aren’t avoiding the house for my sake,” Henry said.

Alex gently squeezed him. “Not at all. Miguel just wanted to chat and the water tank is almost halfway between his house and the ranch, so we come out here a lot if we just want a few minutes to talk in person.”

“Everything okay?” Henry asked, looking between them.

Miguel held out his hands and gave a playful little half bow. “You’re looking at the soon to be new chief of the Colinas Pérdidas Fire Department.”

“Congratulations,” Henry said, his voice warm. “From what Alex has told me, it sounds like you’ll make a great chief.”

“See,” Alex said, pointing to Henry. “Even he gets it.”

Miguel chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Point made. But, alas, I do have to get home. I’m chaperoning a field trip tomorrow.”

“Give Beth and the kids a hug for me,” Alex requested.

They all said their goodbyes and Miguel got back in his truck, pulling out and heading back towards town with a wave. Henry went and took Miguel’s place on the tailgate, pressed up along Alex’s side. Alex leaned into the warmth he provided, chasing away the nip in the cool night air. They sat in silence for awhile, just listening to the breeze.

“I wish that had been a bit more of a planned introduction between you two,” Alex said after awhile. Even though it had gone well, it had still felt like a lot.

Henry turned to look at him. “Why?”

Alex shrugged.

Henry was quiet for another minute. “I think it worked better that way. I couldn’t over think it. It just happened. And, for the record, I quite like him. I especially like how much you seem to like him, and how much he seems to like you.”

Alex smiled, snaking an arm around Henry’s waist again and pulling him in a little closer. “He’s a good guy.”

Henry rested his head on Alex’s shoulder, letting another several minutes pass in silence. “Alex?”

“Hmm?”

Henry’s voice was soft when he said, “It gives you a heart attack every night when I leave, doesn’t it?”

Alex stiffened slightly, feeling a little guilty, a little caught. He hadn’t wanted Henry to know. Hadn’t wanted him to feel like he shouldn’t do the thing that had been helping him feel better. But…Miguel had been right when he’d called Alex out on putting himself aside too much.

“A little bit. But I’d never ask you to stop,” Alex said.

“Can you tell me what you’re afraid will happen?”

Alex swallowed. “A variety of things, honestly. I don’t think Mary is a threat to you at this point, not out here. Going public with all of this has protected you, I think. If anything were to happen to you now she’d be looked at first, and she knows that. Everyone knows that. As for the other people in the world that are mad about it, they do worry me a little too, but out here in Texas no one gives two sh*ts, which is good.”

“Good to know.” Henry replied.

Alex took a deep breath. “I worry, a little, that you won’t come back. That you’ll just keep driving. And I wouldn’t blame you if you did, if you needed that space and that time. But, god, I’d f*cking miss you, Henry. I really don’t know how I’d handle it.”

There. He’d said it. He’d admitted his own feelings. Good job him.

Henry pulled away to took at Alex, reaching out and gently turning Alex’s face towards his. “I’ll always come back, I promise. This is our home, and I love it here. I love you. I’m not sure why going out driving at night helps as much as it does, but it’s the driving that helps, not the leaving.”

Alex closed his eyes and nuzzled into Henry’s hand. The hand was still bandaged, mostly to provide padding in case Henry knocked it against anything. The wound itself was fully closed up now.

“I just…” Alex said, opening his eyes again, still leaned into Henry’s hand. “I just feel like I should be doing more to help you somehow.”

Henry let out a small chuckle. “Alex, you bought me a bloody car. You gave me my own room. You wrote me dozens of letters even when you thought I was gone. You’ve done a thousand things already. And you’re here. That’s enough for me.”

Alex nodded, leaning forward and resting his forehead on Henry’s chest. Henry kissed the top of Alex’s head and rubbed his back.

“I’m going to start looking for a therapist tomorrow. For me,” Alex mumbled. He sat up and ran a hand back through his hair. “I understand if you’re not ready to do that yourself, but I’m realizing that I need it.”

Henry smiled, wrapping his hands around Alex’s. “Good.”

“Good.”

“So.”

Alex chuckled. “Let’s head back to the house, it’s getting cold out here. If you’re ready to go home, I mean?”

Henry nodded. “I am.”

They shared a quick kiss, then got back in their respective cars, Alex leading the way up to the gate. He stopped at the security RV to pick up the mail from Cash, then headed up to the house with Henry following behind. Henry met him in the kitchen as Alex was going through the mail.

“What’s this?” Henry asked, picking up a large, square cardboard envelope.

Alex shrugged. “No clue.” However, as soon as he looked at the handwritten label on it his eyes went wide with realization about what was in that envelope. “Wait. f*ck,” he spluttered, trying not to laugh as he dove for it.

“Oh, now I have to know.” Henry grinned, ducking away from Alex’s reaching hands and trying to open it.

“No, no, no,” Alex laughed, scrabbling for the envelope.

They were both laughing now, Henry keeping his back to Alex as Alex tried to reach around him. Henry finally got it open and slid out what was inside. It was a glossy calendar for 2029. The “Colinas Pérdidas Fire Department Charity Calendar” according to the text on the cover. Ripper was on that cover in nothing but a sports bra and turnout pants as she handled a fire hose aimed off the edge of the picture.

“Oh my god,” Henry laughed so hard he was almost choking on it. “Are you in this? Please tell me you’re in this!”

Alex was wrapped around Henry’s back, face buried in Henry’s shoulder as he laughed himself. “It was for charity. I’d finally started putting myself out there a little more lately so I decided I’d do it this year, but the shoot was only a couple weeks before we left for Australia and I totally forgot about it.”

Henry flipped over the calendar to look at the back, the sight sending him back into a fit of breathless laughter. “They made you July.”

Alex groaned but couldn’t stop laughing. Tearing off the plastic, Henry opened the calendar up to July, taking in the picture there in all its HD glory. Alex was shirtless, muscles taught and skin sweaty, curls picked up by a slight wind as he sprawled out on the hood of the watertender, back on the windshield, legs thrown wide across the bright red hood, grin co*cky.

“I need you to tell me who did this photoshoot, because I need to call them and get prints of every single photo of you from said shoot. In very large sizes,” Henry declared.

Alex rested his chin on Henry’s shoulder, trying and failing to hold back a smile. “It is a pretty good picture.”

Henry turned in Alex’s arms, depositing the open calendar on the counter and leaning in for a kiss. “It’s a very good picture,” Henry said against Alex’s lips.

Alex groaned as Henry hooked his fingers into the beltloops of Alex’s jeans to pull him in closer. The kisses turned hot and heavy immediately, Alex ending up pressed between Henry and the counter, fingers tangled in Henry’s hair.

“Bedroom,” Henry said after another minute of breathless kissing.

Alex nodded and they kissed and stumbled their way there, unwilling to take their hands—or their lips—off of one another. Getting undressed went much the same, their clothes scattering around them on the hardwood floor.

“Alex,” Henry said, pulling back just slightly to catch his breath before they tumbled onto the bed. “I want…”

“Name it,” Alex said, fingers massaging softly at the base of Henry’s spine.

Henry still hesitated, biting his lip.

“You’re allowed to want things, Henry,” Alex said, voice gentle. “You’re allowed to want them, and you’re allowed to ask for them. Especially with me.”

“Always right to the heart of things,” Henry said, managing a small laugh.

Alex smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle Henry’s face. “Tell me what you want, Henry.”

Henry took a deep breath, opening and closing his mouth a few times. As much as Alex wanted to get back to what they’d been doing, coaxing Henry into making his request was far more important right now. Alex would’ve stood there all night if he thought it might help.

“I want you to ride me,” Henry whispered, not quite making eye contact.

Alex gently ran his thumbs over Henry’s cheeks. “Anything for you, baby.”

Henry flicked his eyes up to Alex’s and away again. “Really?”

“Of course,” Alex said. He wondered why Henry was so hesitant to make the request. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before. But he decided now wasn’t the time to ask the question. Baby steps.

Alex leaned in for another kiss, backing Henry up towards the bed until it hit the back of his legs. Henry let himself fall onto it, pulling Alex with. Alex had gotten condoms when he’d gone to get groceries earlier in the week, and he pulled one out of his nightstand drawer along with the bottle of lube, dropping both off to the side.

“Any other requests?” Alex asked.

Henry had moved so he was sprawled out with his head on his pillow. Alex came and kneeled over him, one leg on either side of Henry’s hips. Henry raked his eyes up and down Alex’s body, hands coming to rest on Alex’s thighs. Alex was starting to get an inkling of what was going on, but it hadn’t quite formed into a full thought yet, so for now he just enjoyed the feeling of Henry’s eyes playing over him. He also took a moment to enjoy how much healthier Henry already looked. He’d put on some weight, and everything but his hand was fully healed. He still had a long way to go before he was fully recovered—he was about twenty pounds under his usual weight, and his kidneys were recovering from the prolonged dehydration—but overall he was doing so much better.

“Your abs should be classified as a threat,” Henry told him.

“That’s not a request,” Alex teased.

Henry groaned, closing his eyes. “Just. f*ck. Give me the lube so I can get you ready, because I’m not going to last long enough for you to do anything else.”

Alex laughed and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. He groped around blindly for the lube, popping it open and pressing the bottle into Henry’s hand before pulling away to hover over Henry on his hands and knees.

“Ready when you are, baby,” Alex said.

Henry nodded and squeezed out a healthy amount of lube onto his fingers, staring up at Alex the whole time. Alex was still hovering over him on all fours as Henry reached between his legs, starting to tease his fingers around Alex’s hole. Alex shuddered, eyes sliding half closed and mouth falling open as he leaned back towards Henry’s hand. Henry acquiesced and slid one finger inside, making Alex whimper. His sex life for the last five years—minus that one incident after graduation—had been pretty non-existent. At most he’d jack off in the shower every now and then, but he’d used toys a few times. Toys had nothing on another person, though. On Henry. On the anticipation of how Henry would move, how deep he would go, when he’d press into that spot deep inside. The not knowing was what made it exiting. Putting himself entirely into someone else’s hands, someone he trusted and loved, and just waiting to see what they would do.

Henry kept working his finger in and out, clearly feeling how tight Alex was from not doing this for so long. Even just the one finger felt amazing because it was Henry.

“I love you, Alex,” Henry whispered, tangling his other hand in Alex’s hair. With only two fully functioning and unbandaged fingers on his left hand—plus his thumb—he couldn’t quite get the grip on Alex that he could before, but it didn’t matter. Alex made the same little involuntary keening noise he always did when Henry pulled his hair.

Henry slid another finger inside and Alex gasped, falling forward to bury his face in Henry’s neck, panting and rocking back against Henry’s hand. A couple times Alex’s teeth grazed Henry’s skin, making Henry shudder in time with Alex.

“Give me a hicky,” Henry muttered into Alex’s hair.

Alex pulled back just slightly, searching Henry’s eyes with his own. Henry’s eyes were hazy with sex, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation to be found. Leaning back in, Alex started to nip and suck at where Herny’s neck joined his shoulder. Henry groaned, tilting his head to give better access.

After about a minute, Alex pulled away and sat up. “Want you in me. Now.”

Henry nodded, groping around to the side for the condom, fingers still buried in Alex. Alex got to the condom first, tearing it open with his teeth and tossing the wrapper aside. He slid the condom on and wrapped a hand around Henry’s length, lifting his hips and guiding Henry towards his hole. The second Henry slipped his fingers out, Alex sat down on him, taking Henry’s dick one agonizingly slow inch at a time.

Placing his hands on Alex’s thighs, Henry just lay back and watched. Alex threw his head back, every muscle tight as he adjusted to having Henry inside him for the first time in so long, sinking lower and lower until Henry was fully buried. Alex stayed there, panting for a long moment, reveling in the familiar sensation of being full.

“So good, baby,” Alex said eventually. “So good. Forgot how good you feel.”

“You’re so tight,” Henry panted.

Alex grinned and clenched around Henry, earning a gasp. Henry bucked at the sensation, making Alex gasp as well, eyes falling shut again before he started to rock on top of Henry.

The motions were small at first, but they still sent shocks through Alex’s whole body. His mind was caught in a loop of, “This is real, this is real, this is real, savor this, this is real.”

Tightening the muscles in his thighs, Alex started to make bigger movements, rising up and falling back down little by little instead of just rocking back and forth. He pulled up a little more each time until he was pulling up as far as he could go without Henry sliding out, then sinking back down over and over.

They were both panting and gasping now, and Alex realized Henry hadn’t made eye contact in several minutes. He was far too distracted by watching Alex’s abs and thighs and, oh. That’s what was going on here. This wasn’t just an enjoyable position anymore. It had gone beyond that into a full blown kink. Fascinating. It didn’t explain Henry’s earlier hesitation to ask for what he wanted, but it certainly explained the way he was acting now.

Alex grabbed one of Henry’s hands and pulled it up to his abs. Henry flicked his eyes up to Alex’s, then took the hint and started tracing all the motions under Alex’s skin. Alex keened softly, leaning in to the firm touch of Henry’s hands. Knowing that Henry wanted to watch him like this, wanted to be able to just lie back and watch Alex’s body work, was doing something to him too. It was intoxicating, having Henry so heavily focused on every minute movement of his body.

“You’re too beautiful,” Henry panted.

Alex just let out a breathless laugh. “I’m close, baby.”

“Then come for me,” Henry answered.

Alex locked eyes with him and kept going, not losing his rhythm at all. “Can I…can I take it off? The condom?” He wanted Henry to finish inside of him, like Alex had done to him after they’d gotten home.

Henry nodded and in a flash the condom was gone, Alex seated right back on Henry’s dick, picking up the rhythm like he’d never stopped at all. When his org*sm came a moment later Henry’s hands were firmly on Alex’s hips and Alex’s hands were wrapped around Henry’s arms just above his elbows, holding one another up. Henry tipped over the edge with Alex and they both turned into a shaking mess, shouting one another’s names.

When the tremors subsided Alex fell forward, Henry still buried inside him, gasping against Henry’s skin. Henry wrapped his arms around him and they stayed like that until they could both breathe again. Eventually Alex gently lifted his hips so that Henry would slide out, then fell to the side. Henry rolled with him, keeping Alex wrapped in his arms.

“Was it all you hoped for?” Alex asked, head tucked under Henry’s.

Henry let out a small laugh. “Even better. You really are stunning.”

Alex smiled against his skin, feeling himself going limp and languid along the line where their bodies were pressed together.

“I think I figured it out,” Henry said, voice soft.

“Mmmh?”

“It’s not just the driving, it’s the coming home that helps,” Henry said. “Choosing to. It’s…it’s having my own choices again.”

Alex pulled back slightly, eyes searching Henry’s. “Yeah?”

Henry nodded. “And…knowing you would let me go if I asked you to. I won’t, but the knowing, the knowing and choosing to still come back, that’s what helps. Because it’s my choice and mine alone.”

Alex smiled, holding Henry’s face in his hands and pulling him in for another kiss. He could see the logic in that.

“I’m glad it helps.”

“I don’t want you to have to sit in the house worrying, though,” Henry said. “Would turning the tracking on on my phone help?”

Alex blinked, surprised by the question. “Henry, you don’t have to do that.”

Henry shrugged. “You’d be the only one with access, and I trust you. If it would help, I’m happy to do it.”

Alex bit his lip, thinking it over. He never would have asked, but…since Henry had been the one to make the offer. “Yeah, I think it might.”

Henry smiled. “I’ll turn it on in the morning then.”

Alex smiled too, relaxing back against Henry and tucking his head under Henry’s chin.

“Sleep, love. We’ll get cleaned up in the morning,” Henry declared, kissing the top of Alex’s head.

Alex hummed, nuzzling into Henry’s chest. It only took a few more seconds for his breathing to even out into sleep, warm and safe with the man he loved.

Chapter 38: Folder

Chapter Text

December 2028

Henry

A lot of the time, Henry felt like he was doing strangely okay. Sure, there were hard moments. He still tensed up whenever any doors opened or closed unexpectedly, and he hadn’t really done anything other than be at the house and go driving around the back roads at night, but he’d been sleeping fine, he’d been taking all his meds, he’d been talking to Bea and Pez every day, plus Oscar most days, and Alex was a rock. Anytime Henry started to feel a little unsettled about something, Alex was right there to talk it out or just curl up on the couch for awhile.

When they’d first started dating, it had taken Henry months to get used to just how casual Alex was about touch. He hadn’t had his whole life stifled by ancient protocols, thus he never hesitated to take Henry’s hand or lean up against him or put his head in Henry’s lap on the couch. Henry had quickly come to rely on all those little points of contact throughout the day, and the longer they were together the more Henry sought them out rather than waiting for Alex to initiate.

Now, after everything that had happened, Henry craved being close to Alex even more. Sometimes he felt like he was trying to catch up on every touch he’d missed while he was being held captive. It wasn’t a constant need or anything, he was fine not being in contact with Alex too, but if the opportunity arose he took it. So when Alex walked into the kitchen that morning while Henry was sitting at the table eating a bagel, he didn’t think twice about reaching out to let his fingers brush against Alex’s. He didn’t really look at Alex, though, not at first. Not until he heard Alex set something down on the counter and start talking about a house project he was going to work on for the day.

When Henry did look, he froze. Because the thing Alex had set on the counter was a manila folder.

Henry’s whole body locked up and he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

It was just there.

Sitting on the counter.

A handful of papers inside, poking out around the edges.

Something stepped between him and the folder, but he could still see it. He could still see every single one he had come downstairs to find in almost six years. Could still feel their smooth texture against the tips of his fingers. The weight of the front flap as he turned it. All the newspaper clippings and printouts of online articles.

“Henry.”

The edges of his vision were starting to go black, but it did nothing to get rid of the sight of that folder. The sight of every clipping that had been inside. Alex on the steps of the brownstone being told Henry was dead. Alex’s graduation. His mother’s death. Philip’s childr—

Something cold pressing against the side of his neck finally made the world swim back into focus just a little. Enough for him to realize he was on the couch, somehow, and Alex was kneeling in front of him. One hand was cradling Henry’s face, the other pressing the cold thing against his neck.

“Focus on me,” Alex said, voice steady. “I want you to breathe with me, okay? In for two, hold for two, out for two.”

Alex kept going, counting off the time and increasing it little by little. Henry did his best to follow the instructions, letting the world settle back into place around him. But the steadier his vision became, the more his body started to shake. Alex climbed up onto the couch next to him, dropping the icepack he’d been holding against Henry’s neck onto the floor, and wrapped his arms around Henry.

“You’re okay, you’re safe,” Alex assured, rocking Henry gently, lips pressed to his temple and fingers carding gently through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Henry gasped.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Alex said. “Just focus on your breathing right now. You’re safe. We’ll sort the rest out in a minute.”

Henry nodded, tucking himself in under Alex’s head. Alex laid back, gently pulling Henry with him across his chest. He continued to murmur softly, Henry’s mind latching more onto the cadence of Alex’s words than what they actually were. He had no idea how long it took before the panic attack was actually over, but once it was he felt like his entire body had been smacked against a brick wall.

“You with me?” Alex asked, voice still soft.

Henry nodded, cheek rasping against Alex’s shirt.

“Can you tell me what happened? I just looked over and you were already in it.”

Henry swallowed, feeling shame burning at the back of his throat. What happened? He’d had a panic attack over a stupid folder, that’s what had happened. It was a hunk of cardstock. One that belonged to Alex. Of course it wouldn’t be anything like the folders full of news articles he’d been given at the compound. It was stup—

Alex squeezed him gently, voice just as gentle as he said, “Stop spiraling. Whatever it was, it’s okay. If you can’t tell me about it right now, we can just lay here and relax for a little longer.”

Henry swallowed and nodded, not saying anything. David came up and joined them, managing to wiggle his way into the pile enough for Henry to snuggle into him as well.

“Did you carry me to the couch?” Henry mumbled eventually.

Alex nodded, fingers still running soothingly through Henry’s hair. “I was worried you were going to pass out; I wanted to get you somewhere safer. Then I grabbed the icepack to try and jolt you out of it enough that I could talk you through the rest.”

“Thanks,” Henry replied. It was another few minutes before he managed to say, “It was the folder.”

“The folder?”

Henry couldn’t control the slight shudder that went through him as he tried to build up the courage to talk about it. “It’s…that’s how the guards would…tell me things. Or how Mary would. Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure who did what when it comes to that part. But I’d come downstairs in the morning, and there’d be a…a manila folder—” he had to stop, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. “—there’d be a manila folder on the table, and it would be full of news articles. Stuff about the monarchy, mostly. How good it was, how strong it was. But other times it’d…it’d be about you. Or Bea. Or…my mom.” Henry couldn’t make himself say more, so he just turned his face into Alex’s chest and tried to breathe.

Alex sniffed, holding Henry a little tighter. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? I didn’t even know it would…would feel like that.” Shame still tickled at the back of Henry’s throat. It was just a damn folder.

“What can I do to help?” Alex asked. “I will go through and burn every damn folder in this house if you need me to.”

“I…” he paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t want to be afraid of a f*cking folder, Alex. But…I don’t know.”

“Okay, okay, let me think for a minute.”

Henry nodded again, relaxing a little more against Alex, content to let Alex lead the way through this.

“Would I be right in guessing that being caught off guard by it this morning might’ve made it worse?” Alex asked eventually.

Henry thought about it. “I’m not sure. Maybe?”

“Can we sit up for a second?” Alex requested.

They did, David managing to stay on Henry’s lap. Alex reached out and wrapped both his hands around Henry’s.

“I love you,” Alex started, “and I will help you through every single step of this without hesitation, and I do understand why therapy seems like too much right now. I will never force you to go. But, at the same time…I’m not a therapist, Henry. There’s parts of this that I just don’t know how to help with as well as someone who is trained in it. I think we need to find a way for you to be comfortable with therapy, whatever that is. Maybe I can have an appointment with them first to vet them? See if they feel right for you? And you could just start out with an appointment every other week or something, then work into having more if you need them?”

Deep down, Henry knew Alex was right. He couldn’t let Alex solve all his problems for the rest of his life, nor did he expect him to. If there was anything that could ruin their relationship, it was probably that. And he didn’t want to be afraid of a f*cking folder.

“I…yeah,” Henry forced himself to agree. “As long as you meet them first, I’ll…I’ll try.”

Alex smiled encouragingly, gently squeezing his hands. “Thank you, Henry. I know that’s a terrifying hurdle right now, but I’m so damn proud of you for facing it.”

Henry nodded, closing his eyes and letting a slow breath out through his lips. Alex dropped one of Henry’s hands to rub his back instead, and David wiggled up to nuzzle under Henry’s chin.

“I’ll go put the folder away,” Alex said, kissing Henry’s forehead as he stood up.

“Wait,” Henry requested, stopping Alex halfway to the kitchen. Alex turned back, giving Henry his full attention. “Can you…can you show me what’s in it?”

Alex held Henry’s eye contact for a moment, then nodded. He grabbed the folder off the counter, keeping it in view as he slowly came back over. Knots started to form between Henry’s shoulders again, and David snuggled closer.

“It’s for the third guest room,” Alex said, sitting down about a foot away, with the folder in his lap. “Though, I guess it has been bumped up to the second guest room now. Are you ready for me to open it?”

Henry nodded, trying (and somewhat failing) not to shake.

Alex watched him for another second, then flipped open the top flap. The first sheet of paper had a bunch of paint swatches tapped to it. Alex lifted it up to reveal another sheet underneath, that one with what looked like wallpaper samples.

“I’ve been wanting to try wallpaper in some of the rooms, but I haven’t worked up the courage yet,” Alex chuckled. “It’s so fiddly. Figured I need to finally just pull the trigger and go for it, though. If it turns out bad, I can just rip it off and try again.” He set the wallpaper samples aside, revealing a bunch of printed pictures of furniture in ziplock bags. They’d all been meticulously cut out. “So, yeah. That’s it for this one. I’ve got a folder for each room in the house, and one for each of the outbuildings, and as I finish projects I record everything I used in case I need to touch things up in the future. Paint colors. Stain colors. Where I got the furniture. Any contractors I hired. All of that.”

As Alex had talked, the tension had finally unwound from between Henry’s shoulders. It was just a folder. Just a piece of Alex’s penchant for organization.

“Not…today, but can you maybe start showing me each of them one at a time?” Henry asked.

Alex smiled. “Yeah, we can do that. And, just so you know, they are all in the bottom left drawer of the desk in my office. I’ll never bring one out without giving you a heads up first.”

“Thank you,” Henry said, finally relaxing against the back of the couch. He reached out and picked up the wallpaper samples, tilting it this way and that in the light. “I like this one.” He tapped one with a cream background that had a simple floral pattern intermixed with various birds. It wasn’t too busy, and the muted colors kept it from looking garish.

Alex smiled, snuggling in next to Henry. “That one it is, then.”

Chapter 39: Statement

Chapter Text

December 2028

Henry

“You don’t have to do this, Alex,” Henry said again as Alex sat down at his desk in his home office.

“No, I don’t,” Alex replied, adjusting his webcam. “But I do need to. Things are getting out of hand, and written statements aren’t cutting it. The best way to clear the air here, to keep you safe, is for me to say something. So I am going to say something.”

Henry bit his lip, but nodded. He knew Alex was right. Despite everything, they were both still public figures, and the press were circling like vultures. If they didn’t tell their own story, someone else was going to tell it for them and, as history had shown, they weren’t likely to be kind. Probably they still wouldn’t be kind even once the truth was out there, but it would help. From what Henry knew, both from what he’d been told by Alex and just general experience, the press all around the world were losing their damn minds. No one had showed up at the house, thankfully, but they’d tried. The brick wall that was Cash and his team was handling it well, at least.

Ever since his panic attack over the folder several days earlier, Henry had felt different. A little exhausted, but he also realized now that he’d been hiding from a lot of it and that doing that wasn’t doing him any favors. He and Alex had agreed to wait until after the holidays to figure out therapy, which seemed to be helping in and of itself. The wait was giving him a little time to come to terms with the decision, as scary as it felt. Deciding to more directly confront the press, though, even if Alex was doing it on his behalf, was making Henry tense up again.

Alex straightened his bolo tie and collar, cleared his throat, and hit record. Henry had settled out of sight behind the camera, tucked into the overstuffed armchair in the corner of the office.

“So,” Alex said, his warm, press-ready smile on his face and shoulders square. “There is, understandably, a lot of confusion around the events that have occurred over the last month. I am going to do my best to clear the air, but let me start by saying that Henry and I’s private lives are just that: private. The details I give in this statement are the limit of what we will be sharing. There will not be any press conferences nor interviews.

“Firstly, to clear up the rumors about myself: yes, I am still a lawyer. I work primarily with immigration and discrimination related cases. I am also a volunteer firefighter, something I started doing over three years ago to better support my community. It is not a job I ever expected to have, but it is one that I love.”

Henry couldn’t help but smile a little. Alex always looked so proud when he talked about firefighting. It was crystal clear how much it meant to him.

“Through my work as a firefighter,” Alex continued, “myself and a handful of other volunteers went to assist with the fires in Australia. While there we were caught in a blowup of a new fire and in the process of escaping that blowup, found and rescued an injured man. That man was Henry.”

Alex took a deep breath and Henry had to fight the urge to get up and hug him. He didn’t want to be on camera, though, even if this was just a recorded video that could be edited to remove him before it was released. The idea of being recorded at all just made his skin crawl. Even videochats with loved ones felt uncomfortable a lot of the time. He pushed through, because he loved seeing their faces, but he didn’t like it.

“Let me be perfectly clear: for the five-and-a-half years proceeding what occurred in Australia, I fully believed Henry was dead. That he had died in a plane crash in Canada. Every single person who cares about him believed that. Finding him alive, especially under the circ*mstances of how that occurred, turned the whole world upsidedown for all of us. It was immediately obvious that what had happened to Henry had to be the work of someone very powerful, with a lot of money to burn. The lack of ransom also made it clear that whoever was responsible, they had an atypical motive behind their actions. However, our first priority, and my main priority, was, and still is, making sure that Henry is safe. To that end, we immediately went home to Texas to sort things out from the safety of our home.”

Alex reached out and hit pause, flopping back into his chair with a huff. “God, I forgot how exhausting this sh*t is.”

Henry got up and went around to Alex’s side, sitting on the edge of the desk and leaning in to kiss Alex’s forehead. He was acutely aware of the drawer full of folders just a few inches away, but he managed to ignore it. “You’re doing great so far.”

Alex hummed and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Henry’s waist and burying his face in Henry’s stomach. Henry lightly stroked his hair until Alex pulled away.

“Okay, back to it,” Alex said.

Henry nodded, reaching out to straighten Alex’s hair and glasses. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Henry resumed his place in the armchair and once he was settled Alex hit record.

“Again, we will not be sharing an immense amount of detail concerning what happened to Henry. But, for the sake of clarity, I will share this much: he was kidnapped against his will. The original plane he was on was then crashed to hide the truth of what had happened to him, the pilots of that plane parachuting out prior to the crash. Henry was transfered to a second plane and taken to a secured compound in the Australian outback where he was held for the entire five-and-a-half years until he was rescued. He was under guard by three men who have since been arrested and are facing a slew of charges for their involvement. Seven other people are facing charges as well for their roles including the pilots of the two planes that were involved and a private secretary. More charges may be forthcoming as the investigation continues.

“Henry’s grandmother, Mary, the former Queen, was the architect of all of this. That is an undeniable fact based both on information provided by Henry, testimony from those who have been arrested, and various pieces of financial evidence. Mary did this. She made these choices of her own volition, and thus she will bare the consequences of them. What her motives were are, frankly, unimportant. The fact of the matter is that she did it.”

Alex paused and glanced at Henry. They hadn’t pre-written this speech in any way, but they’d been discussing it all morning, working together to find the line between what they wanted to share and what they didn’t. Alex’s first instinct had, of course, been to harshly put down anyone who questioned the validity of Mary’s punishment, to insist that she deserved much, much worse than a cushy banishment. Henry had come to the realization that he didn’t actually agree, though. Not that she didn’t deserve punishment—she very much did—but that this scenario wasn’t the worst for her. It was. She would spend the rest of her life watching her empire crumble, watching it be pulled away piece by piece because of her own actions. Now that her dementia was widely known, and thus being better treated, she would be able to understand exactly what was happening, at least for now. She would know that it had all ended because of what she did. Sure, she’d be in what, to any other prisoner, would be considered lavish accommodations. But to her it may as well have been the same box she’d put Henry in. Philip had ensured she’d get nothing but the bare bones basics from here on out. That was what mattered to Henry. That she knew. So he’d pulled Alex back to a more moderated statement, not wanting to stir the pot more than needed.

As for the guards, their trials were yet to start but they were looking at the rest of their lives in prison. Possibly in solitary, depending on how the trials went. Even if they didn’t end up in solitary, prison was good enough in Henry’s mind. As long as they lost everything the way they’d tried to do with him, that was what mattered. Knowing their real names helped a lot too. Made them less looming evil figures and more real people. Isaac was John Howards, and Martin was Norman Gleason. Both were, like Curtis, ex-military. All three of them didn’t have any close family. They were lonely, rotten men who would never get a chance to change that now. They’d just have to sit with what they’d done for the rest of their lives.

Henry nodded for Alex to continue. Alex nodded back, then kept going. “Henry and I have played no part in the events that have taken place in the United Kingdom since Henry’s rescue. We have been kept up to date on what is occurring, but we have not contributed to those events in any manner. Henry’s rescue is what tipped the scales to finally have Mary removed from power, but it was far from the only thing on those scales. She is undeniably responsible for his kidnapping and captivity and those actions have had far reaching consequences. However, there are many other factors at play, primarily Mary’s own mental health and threats she has made against other people. It is not my place to speak on those additional issues, only on what has occurred with Henry and myself.

“Obviously, all of this has raised many complex and unexpected issues. There is no modern precedence for the situation we have all found ourselves in, no laws to turn to that can help guide the way. We are left to make it up as we go and hope to make it through to the other side. At the end of the day, the facts are thus: a uniquely powerful woman made a choice to exert a dangerous amount of control over those around her, expecting that she would face no consequences due to her power. A system was in place that was designed to do exactly that, to protect her from her own actions and prevent her from ever being held to account, but that system has been ancient and hotly debated for a long, long time. Her own actions are the thing that finally broke it, and now she is facing the consequences of her own actions that she thought she never would. For those of us left in her destructive wake, all we can do is try to pick up the pieces as best we can.

“To everyone who has reached out with messages of support and love for Henry and myself, thank you. We are doing good and are just happy to finally be back together. We request that you all continue to respect our privacy as these events continue to unfold.”

Alex stopped the recording once more, flopping forward on his desk. Henry came and stood next to him again, gently rubbing Alex’s back.

“Thank you,” Henry said. He knew how hard that had been and was just thankful to have someone on his side who cared as much as Alex clearly did.

Getting back on track with Alex had been easy, honestly, once they’d laid everything out about what they wanted and expected. There were still things to work out, but they’d fallen back into a rhythm with one another that was comfortable and familiar. It was getting back on track with life that was proving much harder, at least for Henry. He kept finding himself stuck in old routines. He instinctively stayed in bed until the time the door used to be unlocked. He struggled to fix himself food because he was so used to it just being on the table at specific times and the fridge always being empty. Every time he tried to leave the house it would feel like trudging through water the closer he got to where the wall had been. It was all exhausting, and journaling wasn’t helping as much as he had hoped it would. He knew therapy probably would help eventually, but that didn’t make him anymore eager to start the process.

Alex seemed to have picked up on Henry’s issues with routines and would gently try and nudge Henry out of them when he started to get stuck. Henry was grateful for it, because he couldn’t always tell when he was getting stuck. After they’d finished the video statement, and released it on social media, Alex had pulled Henry out to the old barn full of antiques, bringing a pile of snacks with in lieu of lunch.

“So,” Alex said around a bite of granola bar that he was waving around as he talked. “I have a system. All these tables up front are for different categories. Books, jewelry, clothes, tools, cookware, toys, knick-knacks, art, and other categories as needed. Furniture just gets vaguely sorted to wherever it fits.”

“Okay,” Henry said, already deep into one of the rabbit warren paths, picking up interesting things as he found them.

“I’ve had a few museum people out a couple times as I dig through, and I just let him them have anything they want for their museums. After that, I keep anything I want for myself. Then I have an appraiser come through and help me auction off anything of actual value, using the income from that to help cover costs for my legal clients. Anything that’s left, I take down to the flea market in town and donate the income from that to the station.”

“What’s the most interesting thing you’ve found so far?” Henry asked as he examined a ceramic cat about the size of his hand.

Alex, who Henry could not see at this point, hummed. “There was this fascinating book of hand drawn maps of the area from the 1800s. It’s at the museum in town now. We’ll go see it sometime.”

They continued to chat and explore, carrying things out of the warren and to the tables, snagging snacks along the way. Henry found a huge old book full of stunning botanical illustrations that he set aside to bring into the house to examine closer, and a gorgeous original oil painting of a mountain valley somewhere. Digging through a trunk, he found what appeared to be a set of diaries. The writing was cramped and a little faded, but it seemed to belong to a young woman in the forties whose four elder brothers had all gone off to war, leaving her home alone with their ailing mother and three younger siblings—as well as the child of her eldest widower brother.

“You okay?” Alex asked, appearing at Henry’s shoulder.

Henry lightly rolled his thumb over the corner of the diary, feeling the pages flutter under his fingers. “At the compound…I dug up a time capsule that had been buried there back when it belonged to the cult. The oldest daughter had buried it with her siblings to hide their toys from their parents when they started to become even more indoctrinated.”

“Oh?” Alex’s voice was soft, one hand coming out to gently run up and down Henry’s back.

Henry nodded, leaning into Alex’s touch. “After I found it, I kept wondering what happened to her. And her siblings. I still do.”

“We can find out, if you want,” Alex offered.

Henry thought about it. He was aware the answer might not be a good one, given that they had, in fact, been in a cult. But a part of him did want to know either way so he could at least stop wondering. He gave another little nod and Alex leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

They were interrupted by Alex’s phone ringing and Alex pulled it out, revealing Philip’s name on the screen.

“$20 says I am about to get very sanctimoniously told off about our statement,” Alex said.

Henry chuckled and motioned for Alex to answer. He did, putting it on speaker.

“I have no regrets,” Alex said by way of greeting.

“You could have at least warned me,” Philip answered.

“I texted you.”

“Two minutes before you released it! I was asleep!”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Alex replied.

Philip huffed. “You are exhausting. I am glad my brother has you but I do not understand the appeal at all.”

Alex snorted and Henry had to cover his mouth to hold in his own laughter.

“Anything else?” Alex asked.

“Yes, actually,” Philip said. “Could you perhaps get Henry? I would like to speak to both of you about something. Nothing bad, don’t worry.”

Henry and Alex glanced at one another, both clearly thinking it over. Eventually Henry shrugged and said, “Hello, Pip.”

“Hello, Henry. How are you, if I may ask?” Philip answered.

“Decent,” Henry said, deciding that was a good middle of the road answer.

“Well, as I told Alex, there is something I wanted to discuss with both of you. It is not bad, but you may find it a little…difficult. It’s the matter of compensation for what Mary did to you,” Philip said.

Henry stiffened, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking any money, Philip. It’s not the taxpayers fault what happened to me, and there is not a single pound in the royal accounts that has not come from those taxpayers.”

Alex stayed quiet but came closer, wrapping one arm tightly around Henry as he held the phone up between them.

“I do understand where you are coming from, Henry, which is why I didn’t bring this up sooner,” Philip said. “Bea and I have been trying to work out a way for you to be compensated that you might find fair, and I do believe we have found one. I also believe you deserve it, for what she put you through. Obviously Alex did inherit some of your funds, but much of it went to charity. I just want to be sure you’re taken care of, and that you at least get back what you had in your personal accounts before all this occurred.”

Henry worked his jaw side to side a few times, mulling it over. He could understand where Philip was coming from, and it did sting that all the money his father had left him was gone. Not because of its value, but just because it had been from his father.

“What’s your solution, then?” Alex said when Henry didn’t say anything.

“Obviously the legal quagmire we are in now is, to say the least, deep. But, for the moment, the standing is that Mary is now a private citizen and thus, due to her health, she can now be declared unfit to care for herself and put under my legal authority, which she has. This means all her assets are now under my authority as well. All the Crown property has been turned over to the government to do with as they see fit, but Mary had plenty of her own personal property as well. Jewelry, including a selection of jewelry we’ve determined should be repatriated, horses, two estates, clothing and other small property, those sorts of things.”

Henry couldn’t hold back a tiny smile at the idea of repatriations. Those were Bea’s influence, he was sure.

Philip continued, “All of that property is going to be auctioned off to fund Mary’s care for the rest of her life, but auctioning all of it will raise far more than needed for that care. Once her care is covered, my hope is that you would be willing to accept any funds from the rest of the auctions, specifically funds that are beyond the initial asking price. That initial asking price will then be donated to the charities of your choice. That way, the money that goes to you will not come from anything related to taxes, and money will be given back to the taxpayers at the same time.”

Henry had to admit, it sounded like a relatively elegant solution. He thought about it for a couple more minutes before he finally gave in. “Alright, but I have two conditions.”

“Name them,” Philip said.

“Firstly, some of the money needs to go to your children as well, and a trust for any of Bea’s future children,” Henry said. “Their lives will all be heavily effected by this as well.”

“We can do that,” Philip said. “What’s the second condition?”

“Well, firstly, is Brandywine still alive?” Henry asked. Brandywine was, technically, Mary’s horse. A beautiful red mare that Henry had started riding in polo games when he was eighteen. She was the best horse he’d ever ridden, and after his father died Henry had spent hours every day hiding in her stall. She’d lay down and put her head in his lap, letting the day flow away around them.

“Oh, yes, she is. Retired now, of course, but still doing quite well. Bosses around all the other horses at the stable all day long, especially her daughters.”

Henry chuckled. That sounded like her. “Can I have her?”

“Of course. Does Alex have room in his stable?”

“I can if you give me a month,” Alex said.

“That is probably about how long it would take to get everything properly arranged to send her over anyway,” Philip answered. “Would you be willing to take her daughter, Andromeda, as well? She is four and they are nearly insuperable.”

“Yes, of course,” Henry answered.

“Well, that’s that sorted then. I’ll keep you up to date on the progress of things,” Philip replied.

“Listen, Philip,” Henry said before Philip could say goodbye. “Alex and I have decided to have everyone over for Christmas. Well, the Friday before Christmas, the twenty-third. I understand if you can’t get away, especially with James, but you are welcome to come if you can.”

Philip paused for a moment before answering. “Actually, that would be quite nice. Mazzy and I had been discussing that I should take Elizabeth out for a long weekend somewhere, just the two of us, so she can have a little time being my sole focus. She’s had a bit of a hard time ever since James was born, and now all of this.”

“We’d love to have both of you,” Alex said.

“Agreed,” Henry answered.

“Well, we shall see you on the twenty-third then,” Philip replied.

They hung up and Henry realized Alex was suppressing a smile.

“What?” Henry said.

“Has your brother ever, in his life, been in a real house? Let alone one that hasn’t been scrubbed to polished perfection before he entered?”

Henry chuckled. “No, I don’t believe he has.”

Alex grinned. “I’m going to throw mud at him.”

Henry laughed, reaching out to pull Alex into a kiss. “You’re an idiot. I love you, but you’re an idiot.”

They went back to sorting through more of the antiques around them until Henry happened upon a huge trunk full of stunning, delicate old Christmas ornaments. He called Alex over to see them.

“You know, if we’re going to have everyone over for Christmas, we should probably decorate for Christmas,” Henry said.

Alex smiled a little guiltily, kneeling down next to Henry to examine the ornaments as well. “I don’t actually have anything. I haven’t really celebrated since, well…” Alex trailed off with a shrug.

Henry set aside the ornaments he’d been admiring and pulled Alex into a hug. They rested there for a moment.

“What about the stuff from the Brownstone?” Henry asked, arms still around Alex.

“Oh, yeah, I guess there is that stuff. We threw out our old tree, though, remember? It broke when we were putting everything away that year,” Alex replied.

“Well,” Henry said, standing up and dusting off his pants. “I guess we’ll just have to go into town and see if we can find one left anywhere.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, looking up at Henry from where he was still knelt on the ground. Henry looked right back, trying to seem confident about the decision. It would be Henry’s first trip into town. His first time around other people in almost six years, aside from the rescue and the hospital.

“Okay,” Alex said, finally getting up himself. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

Colinas Pérdidas was small and beautiful and Henry instantly fell in love with it as Alex drove them in. Many of the buildings had colorful murals, the businesses all had hand-drawn signs, and there were people out laughing and having a good time as they perused the shops.

“We closed Main Street to cars two years ago,” Alex said, pointing down said street as they passed. It was full of tents and stalls and outdoor seating now. Music drifted out and Henry could see at least three buskers surrounded by knots of people.

“It looks like a Hallmark movie,” Henry said.

Alex laughed. “Feels like one too, sometimes. In a good way.”

“A very good way,” Henry agreed.

Alex parked at a ranch store on the other end of town. The door was propped open and a chalk sign out front that declared they had a new batch of “Betsy’s Salsa” for sale inside.

“Nate’s store?” Henry asked as they got out.

“Yep. No idea who is working today, though,” Alex replied. “Nate has a Christmas tree lot out back and usually a good selection of fake ones.”

“Let’s get a real one,” Henry said. That sounded nice for their first Christmas back together. “If there are any good ones left.”

“I like that idea,” Alex replied, reaching out to take Henry’s hand and lead the way inside.

They didn’t make it five feet through the door before a tiny figure launched itself at Alex’s legs, gleefully shouting, “Tío!” at the top of her lungs.

“Oof!” Alex laughed, shooting a quick glance at Henry before bending down and scooping the little girl up, planting a kiss on her cheek. She looked like she was probably about four. “Hello, Ines. Where is your mommy at, hmm?”

Henry had to admit, he tensed up when he realized who the little girl was. He and Alex hadn’t talked much about Eloisa and Ines, other than for Henry to ask Alex not to mention the lies Mary had convinced Henry of. Alex had been fine with that, just as happy as Henry to leave all of that in the past. Henry knew Alex and Eloisa had been texting quite a bit, though. It didn’t bother him, exactly. He trusted Alex. It was just a strange situation and Henry hadn’t quite adjusted to it yet.

Looking at Alex and Ines now, though, Henry felt the tension bleeding away. They clearly adored one another.

“Mariposa, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that!” A woman said, rounding the corner. She had a new children’s western saddle under one arm, a whole pile of what looked like bridles and halters looped over the other arm, plus a lasso hanging off one shoulder. “Oh! Hello!” She said when she spotted Henry.

“But Tío!” Ines said, gesturing at Alex who was still holding her.

“Uh uh,” Alex said. “You know the rules missy, you have to stay close to your mom.”

She crossed her arms and pouted. “But I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Alex said, giving her a squeeze. “But you still have to follow the rules.”

She continued to pout until Alex leaned forward to dip her upsidedown, making her giggle.

“Well, I’d shake your hand to say hello,” Eloisa said to Henry, “but as you can see my hands are very occupied at the moment.”

Henry smiled. “They are. Can I help?”

“You can go back and get the blankets I couldn’t carry with all of this stuff?” Eloisa said. “Aisle four, they’re in a pile on the floor.”

Henry nodded, setting off to find the blankets. He did—a pile of saddle blankets—along with an adult western saddle next to it. With a little creative arranging he piled everything up and brought it out to the registers where Alex, Ines, and Eloisa were waiting. A young man, no more than seventeen Henry guessed, was behind the counter ringing everything up.

“So, you ride a lot, I take it?” Henry asked, setting the saddle on the floor after it had been scanned. He was rather proud of himself for being able to carry it. It had only been in the last handful of days that he’d been able to get through the day without taking a nap, or two or three.

Alex was occupied playing a clapping game with Ines, who he’d set on the high counter, but he kept shooting glances at Henry.

“Oh, yes, but this stuff isn’t for me,” Eloisa replied. “I work at an equine therapy barn my parents own. We do regular lessons to help pay the bills, and then provide horse therapy to children and adults with disabilities. There’s always a bit of a post-Christmas rush because we do a holiday special for a free trial lesson in January.”

“Really? Alex hadn’t told me about all of that,” Henry said.

Eloisa leaned around Henry to roll her eyes at Alex. He stuck his tongue out back at her, which made Ines do the same. They both started blowing raspberries at one another in response.

Eloisa chuckled, turning her attention back to Henry. “It’s a good place. You should come by sometime. We’ve got a handful of English horses if you want to ride something more familiar. We’re always hiring qualified trainers too, if you need something to keep yourself busy. I could use a new English rider; our other one is getting overbooked.”

“Eloisa—” Alex said, his voice gentle, but a little firm.

“Actually,” Henry interrupted. “That does sound interesting. Can I get back to you on that after the holidays?”

Eloisa smiled. “Of course.”

There was a minor battle over whether Eloisa would let Alex pay for all her stuff—which Alex won—then Henry and Alex helped her carry everything out to her truck and load it all up. Alex got Ines tucked in to her carseat in the back, then joined Eloisa and Henry where they’d been chatting by the tailgate.

“You two should come to our place on the twenty-third,” Henry invited. “We’re having a big family get together. My brother and his daughter Elizabeth are coming, she’s about the same age as Ines but she’ll be the only kid there. As a child who got dragged to many functions full of adults, I think it might do her good to have a friend.”

“Yes, please come,” Alex said, sliding an arm around Henry’s waist.

“I don’t want to intrude, I know this Christmas is slightly…ah…loaded,” Eloisa said, clearly trying to be delicate.

Henry shrugged. “It’s a family get together, you’re family.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Henry could see that Alex was beaming, a huge smile on his face.

“We’re doing reunion stuff in the morning,” Alex said. “Why don’t you come over around two? Dinner will be at five.”

“In that case, happy to come. Can I bring anything?”

“Your lemon cookies?” Alex asked.

She agreed, then she and Alex hugged and she set off. Ines waved out the window as they passed. Henry and Alex both waved back.

“Oh my god,” Alex said, sagging against Henry. “You like her. Them. I’m so f*cking glad you like them.”

Henry smiled. “I do like them. They both seem very sweet. And her work sounds really interesting.”

Alex nodded, maneuvering so that he was hugging Henry, arms draped over Henry’s shoulders. “They do very good work there. You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, though.”

“I do want to, actually,” Henry said. “I think I need something to do. I taught several of my younger cousins how to ride, and I always really enjoyed it. Now come on, we have a tree to buy.”

Chapter 40: Christmas

Chapter Text

December 2028

Alex

Their tree, a large, real Douglas Fir, sparkled in the corner of the livingroom, decked out with a mix of their old decorations and the antique ones Henry had found in the barn. Freddie had climbed it one time as soon as it was set up, then proceeded to get stuck and yell loudly until Alex managed to pull him out. Now Freddie watched the tree distrustfully from a distance and Henry teased Alex about being a cliche rescuing cats from trees.

Alex had structured the arrivals very carefully, with Henry’s input. He didn’t want Henry getting overwhelmed by a dozen people pouring into the house all at once, and there were certain interactions he felt deserved to happen first. Henry had lovingly watched him construct the schedule, only once pointing out that he thought Alex might be taking it a little far. It just made Alex feel better to have the schedule, though. To have control over the situation. Henry said he appreciated the care Alex was taking, even if he teased him about it.

Bea and Philip were the first scheduled to arrive, along with Krister and Elizabeth. However, the plan was for Krister to play with Elizabeth out on Ines’s swingset for awhile once they arrived, then come inside after Henry had some time with his siblings. Pez was next; he was driving down from Colorado in an RV with June and Nora. June couldn’t fly, or handle a regular roadtrip in a car due to how pregnant she was, but she had been insistent on coming so the RV had been their compromise so June could be comfortable. After the three of them Oscar and Justine were coming, then finally Ellen and Leo. That was it until the afternoon when Eloisa and Ines arrived. Miguel and his family were in Mexico for the holiday, but they’d all been roped into the barn expansion so they’d be over plenty once they got home, along with Nate, Ripper, and a few of the other people from the crew.

“I missed your color coding,” Henry said, coming up behind Alex in the kitchen and wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder as he examined the schedule.

Alex made another little mark, adjusting when Ellen and Leo would arrive due to a traffic jam. “Color coding makes the world go round.”

The sound of a car approaching outside made Henry tense up slightly behind Alex. Alex turned around in his arms and brought his hands up to cup Henry’s face. “You’re in control here, okay? If you need a break, tell me. If you don’t want to say it, just hold your middle finger down with your thumb and I’ll come make an excuse to pull you out for a bit and we can talk about it, or just take a break, okay?”

Henry nodded, closing his eyes and leaning into Alex’s touch. They listened as footsteps ascended the porch, followed by a light knock. Henry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gave a little nod and stepped away from Alex. Smiling encouragingly, Alex took his hand and led him into the livingroom.

“Come in,” Alex called. He didn’t want this to happen in the doorway.

Bea was first, tears already sparkling in the corners of her eyes. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, Philip right behind her. Henry smiled and dropped Alex’s hand, holding his arms out to Bea. She immediately launched herself across the room and into Henry’s arms, sobbing against his chest as he wrapped her up. Philip watched it all from by the door, finally stepping inside all the way and closing it behind himself. Alex went and stood next to him, lightly knocking his fist against Philip’s shoulder and nodding in Henry and Bea’s direction. Philip glanced hesitantly between Alex and his siblings, earning a more encouraging nod. A tentative step made Henry look up, and he unwrapped one arm from Bea to hold it out in invitation for Philip, who finally went to him. All three became tangled in one big knot of limbs and tears, none of them saying anything.

Alex felt a lot of the tension between his shoulders finally unwind. This had been the biggest step and, so far, it seemed to be going well. The three of them hung onto one another for a long time before finally untangling, after which they spent another minute just silently looking at one another.

“I missed you,” Henry said, a few tears still running down his face.

Bea sniffed and dove back in for another hug.

“I’m so glad you are alright, Henry,” Philip said, voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for going so far to keep me that way, Pip,” Henry told him.

Bea stepped back, flicking tears out of her eyes. “He’s not the only one.” With that she marched over to Alex and wrapped him in a hug just as tight as the one she’d given Henry. “Thank you.”

Alex smiled and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head. “He’ll always be safe with me, I promise.”

Henry smiled at them, a few more tears gathering in his eyes. The four of them went to the couch and sat, talking for a few minutes and looking at pictures of baby James on Philip’s phone. He’d started his new treatment regimen and it was already having an effect, according to Philip. He had more energy, more appetite, and had put on weight. The current hope was that within a couple more months he would finally be healthy enough to have a heart transplant when one became available.

A text brought Krister into the house, leading a beautiful little girl who looked just like a miniature version of Bea, but with Martha’s blond hair. She had on a satin red Christmas dress that came to her knees with fluffy white trim and a matching red bow in her hair. Her red tights and shiny black shoes, however, were splattered with a level of mud she looked absolutely gleeful about.

“Papa, I found bugs,” she declared the second she saw Philip.

“Oh my,” Philip said, looking slightly mortified. Everyone else, however, burst into laughter.

“I told you this was not some black tie affair,” Alex chuckled.

“Well, yes,” Philip said, sliding a finger around the collar of his own very expensive sweater. “But one of Martha’s sisters bought her the dress and we have not been able to convince her to take it off in the four days since. I am so sorry about your floor, however.”

Alex waved him off. “It’s a ranch house. I don’t think there has ever not been mud on the floors.”

“No comment from you?” Bea directed at Krister, one of her eyebrows raised high and a smile on her face.

“I will neither confirm nor deny any assistance I may have provided in bug hunting,” Krister said. The mud on his shoes told the story for him, though.

Introductions were made, Elizabeth happily telling Henry about the bugs she had been chasing outside. Alex had seen a little tension in Henry’s shoulders when he’d first seen Elizabeth, but it quickly melted away. Krister and Henry struck up a conversation about music that was basically Greek to Alex, but he was more than happy to finally just relax back into the couch and watch it all unfold.

It wasn’t long until the sound of another, larger vehicle came up the drive, announcing the arrival of the next round of guests. Alex had told them to park the RV between the two barns—there was an electrical system out there for them to hook up to—but he was not surprised when the RV stopped right in front of the door and Pez basically launched himself out of the passenger seat.

Henry grinned and got up to answer the door himself this time. When he opened it, just as Pez was about to knock, Pez practically tackled him. They swung around one another in a wild hug, both laughing. Alex maneuvered around them and went outside to find Nora helping June down the steps from the side of the RV.

“Are you sure there aren’t three in there?” Alex laughed, going out and giving her a careful hug. “You look amazing.”

“Ugh, don’t joke,” June said, hugging back. “I have been watching Youtube videos about twin pregnancies and sometimes there is a hidden triplet.”

“Well, at least we still wouldn’t be outnumbered,” Nora said, gently patting June’s shoulder.

Alex chuckled and pulled her into a hug too. When they broke apart Nora was holding up the keys to the RV.

“So, how about the person who drives big firetrucks around parks this thing for me, so that I don’t back it into either of his barns?”

Taking the keys with a laugh, Alex went and did just that, sliding it into place easily. Meeting June and Nora back at the porch, he linked arms with them and led the way inside where he found everyone laughing and having a great time. Elizabeth had found Ines’s toybox and was busy constructing a large tower out of Duplo blocks right in the middle of everyone. Henry, June, and Nora all hugged and shed a few more tears before everyone settled back in.

“You doing alright?” Alex whispered to Henry when they had a moment where the focus was elsewhere.

Henry nodded. “It’s…a little overwhelming. But it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s really good to see all of them.”

Alex gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before they both melded back into the group.

Oscar and Justine’s arrival was just as noisy and rambunctious as Pez’s had been, Oscar going in for multiple hugs and Justine standing back to watch with a smile. She was a tall, slender woman who had transitioned nearly twenty years earlier, clearly comfortable in her own skin now. Oscar always looked at her like she hung the moon, and Alex was glad to see his dad happy.

“Hi Alex, it’s good to see you again,” she said when Alex came over to say hello.

He smiled. “You too. Thank you for coming.”

Oscar let go of Henry and more introductions were made, everyone chattering away like old friends even if they’d just met. Alex slid up next to Henry again, wrapping his arm around Henry’s waist. Henry relaxed into him with a smile.

“Still having fun?” Alex whispered.

Henry nodded and Alex could see from the look on his face that he really was. There was a light in his eyes that Alex had only seen flashes of since they’d made it home. After a few more minutes Oscar snuck into the kitchen, despite Alex’s earlier insistence that he had the cooking under control. Henry and Alex shared a knowing look and Henry nudged Alex towards the kitchen as well.

“Just looking!” Oscar said the second Alex came around the peninsula.

“I didn’t know looking involved holding a spoon,” Alex replied in Spanish.

Oscar grinned and shrugged, going back to stirring the pot of chile con queso in the small slow cooker. Alex chuckled and came over to poke at all the food as well. They were having Mexican food for lunch and a more traditionally American dinner, so just about every cooking option Alex and Henry owned was currently in use in some manner, or would be shortly.

“How you doing, mijo?” Oscar asked.

“Better,” Alex admitted. “I still haven’t quite found the right therapist yet, but just realizing I needed one has helped in and of itself. And things feel like they’re finally starting to settle down a little, at least here at home. Obviously the world at large is still losing its mind, and will be for awhile yet, but that’s not my problem.”

“You haven’t been harassed by the press at all?” Oscar asked.

Alex shrugged. “Haven’t touched social media since we released the statement. Nora has some magical screening software set up on all my email accounts. Our address is unlisted, and the town has my back. Cash’s team has been working hard to keep them away as well. So far, it’s working.”

Alex had it on good authority from Ripper that the pastime of gleefully lying to the press about Alex’s identity and whereabouts, and now Henry’s as well, was now a game played by the whole town. Alex found this stupidly amusing, as did Henry. Most frequently, the press were directed to the roadside attraction known as “Raccoon Town,” which was a large shed on the side of the highway full of taxidermied raccoons in various scenes including a nativity scene, the stabbing of Julius Cesar, and the assassination of Lincoln. No one quite knew who made the attraction in the first place, but it had apparently been there for years.

“What’s the longterm plan?” Oscar said.

“Cash has agreed to stay on under a two year contract,” Alex explained. “I’m getting him set up with an apartment in town, and we’re having the RV out at the gate replaced with a tiny house that will serve as the security base for the property. Other than that, we’re just playing it by ear.”

Oscar nodded. “I’m glad he agreed to stay on. You two need someone you can trust, and the rest of us need that too.”

They continued to chat idly until there was another knock on the door, and Alex went to let Ellen and Leo in. They each hugged Henry as well, then melded into the group with everyone else, joining in the laughter and chatter. This time, it was Henry who came and snagged Alex, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Hello,” Henry said.

Alex smiled. “Hello. Still having a good time?”

“A fantastic time. You?”

Alex nodded. “This is actually the most people I’ve ever had in the house. I hosted a BBQ for the crew back in July, but that was outside.”

“You should show everyone around,” Henry said. “Show off all the work you’ve put in to bring it back to life.”

Alex took him up on that suggestion, showing everyone around and pointing out all the little woodworking details he loved so much. They didn’t go into the main bedroom, or Henry’s bedroom, since those were private spaces, but Alex showed them the rest. Elizabeth giggled and examined everything up close, declaring it all “quaint.” Apparently it was her new favorite word.

Lunch was a relaxed affair in the livingroom, everyone eating off of paper plates from food piled on the coffee table. Philip was sat in the middle of everyone looking very out of his depth while Elizabeth was clearly having the time of her life not having to observe any sort of decorum.

“Just use your fingers, Pip,” Bea said, dropping another tamale de rajas on his plate.

“I do not…no,” Philip said, looking strained.

Alex reached out with his foot from the loveseat he and Henry were sharing, lightly poking Philip in the knee. “Come onnnn, you got this. Be brave.”

Looking like he was performing some sort of medical operation, Philip glanced around at what everyone else was doing, then slowly started opening up his tamale with his plate balanced on his knees. That seemed to be his limit when it came to touching the food, though, and he snagged a plastic fork for the next part. With a slightly aggrieved look at the plastic utensil, he awkwardly sawed at the tamale with the side of the fork until he managed to get a bite and pop it in his mouth. He chewed for a second, his face growing more and more surprised.

“Wow, this is very good,” he declared.

Everyone started laughing, and Alex thanked him.

As everyone started to finish up their food, Bea clapped a couple times to get their attention. She and Krister smiled at one another, then she said, “So! Krister and I have a little announcement to make.” She took a deep breath, her smile getting even bigger. “We’re pregnant!”

The room erupted into cheers and congratulations, Henry practically launching around the table to hug his sister, Philip not far behind.

“How far along?” Alex asked as soon as he released Bea from his own hug.

“Eleven weeks,” Bea said.

“Oh my god, our babies are gonna be cousins!” June said, sniffling. “They’re going to be cousins and they’re going to be the same age and, and—” She dissolved into a flood of happy tears, which made Bea start crying too as they both hugged one another.

The conversation shifted into one about babies and wedding planning for Bea and Krister, Ellen happily taking on just as much of a motherly role with Bea as she did with Henry. When Eloisa and Ines arrived about an hour later, Elizabeth and Ines instantly became best friends, Ines leading Elizabeth out into the courtyard to show off her frogs.

“I’m going to have to replace that dress,” Philip said, watching as Elizabeth and Ines waded right into the small pond without a second of hesitation.

“Worth it,” Henry said, watching the girls with a smile.

Philip smiled too, though Alex could see it was more directed at Henry. Henry himself was distracted and didn’t notice, but Alex returned Philip’s smile. They shared a look that didn’t need words. A look that said they both still remembered exactly what it took to get to this moment, and how scary and confusing that day had been. Alex still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that, only a month ago, he’d still believed Henry dead. Now they were sitting in their livingroom surrounded by the people they loved most in the world, laughing and smiling and making plans for the future. It almost didn’t feel real, save for the warm, familiar weight of Henry next to him.

“I need to go check on dinner,” Alex whispered, kissing Henry on the cheek before extracting himself from the couch and heading for the kitchen. It wasn’t until he’d turned the corner around the peninsula that he realized Henry had followed.

“Alex?” Henry said, reaching out and tangling their fingers together.

“Hmm?” Alex gently squeezed Henry’s hand. The bandage was finally off, and Henry had started doing some physical therapy—including playing the piano again, now that it had been moved to the open space off the livingroom—but his last two fingers remained numb.

Henry took a deep breath. “Okay, I was not planning on doing this today. Hadn’t even really thought about it all until today, actually. But I just…god, I love you Alexander. I love the home you’ve built here and brought me into. I love the way you treat me. I love the way you love other people. I love the way your mind works. We’ve already had so much time stolen from us, and I don’t want to miss another second so, even though we’ve only been back at this for a month, I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Alex’s heart was racing, knowing what was coming next but not quite able to believe it.

“Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz, will you marry me?” Henry whispered, eyes searching Alex’s with just a hint of nervousness in them.

Tears built in Alex’s eyes and all he could manage at first was a little nod, throwing his arms around Henry’s shoulders. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Henry’s answering grin was wild and gleeful as he wrapped his arms around Alex and pulled him in as close as possible, laughing before shoving their lips together.

“What are you two up to in there?” June called.

Alex, still wrapped up in Henry’s arms, turned to see that everyone was watching them. Nora, a knowing smile on her face, had her phone out and appeared to be taking pictures.

Alex grinned. “Getting engaged.”

Once more the room erupted into cheers and whoops and another round of hugs and congratulations. It was all so warm and comfortable and everything Alex had missed about being with his family. His whole family. He looked to Henry, who he hadn’t let go of during the congratulatory chaos, and found the same mix of contentment and happy overwhelm on Henry’s face that he was sure was also on his. Despite everything, they were both here. They’d made it through and everything in front of them was bright and exciting, even if some moments were going to be hard they were going to experience it all together.

Chapter 41: BONUS SCENE 4

Chapter Text

March 2029

Alex

Alex had only been back to working at the fire department for three weeks when they got a bad call. It wasn’t a terrible one, as far as calls went. No children had died. There’d been no bloody bodies. Just a 911 call when a woman found her seventy-year-old mother dead of an apparent heartattack in the garden. The woman’s wails as Alex confirmed her mother had no pulse were still ringing in his head hours later.

When they did get really bad calls, Alex generally went and spent the night at Miguel’s house. They’d pull out his sofa bed and watch movies with the kids until the kids went to bed, then just chat until they both passed out themselves. But for ones like this, ones that were more sad than anything else, Alex generally just went home alone. He’d find something to do with his hands, turn on a mindless podcast, and try to just put the day away.

Except now he wasn’t going home alone, and somehow that thought didn’t even occur to him until he trudged through the front door and found Henry sitting on the couch with a book. Alex froze halfway through the door, his mind suddenly going through a hard reset as he stared at Henry.

“Alex?” Henry said, looking up from his book, a touch of worry in his features.

“You’re here,” Alex said. It barely came out more than a whisper.

Henry frowned and set his book aside, getting up and walking over to Alex. “Of course I’m here. Is everything okay?”

Alex could feel tears building in his eyes and he stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around Henry who quickly did the same, pulling Alex in.

“You’re here.”

“I am, I’m right here,” Henry said, one hand running up and down Alex’s back as Alex buried his face into Henry’s neck. “Please tell me what’s going on, Alex. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled into Henry’s skin. “I just—I just…we got a call at work today, and it was a hard one, and I’m so used to dealing with stuff like that alone unless I go crash with Miguel, but then I opened the door and you were here and it just, god, it just hit me so f*cking hard in that moment that you’re here and I’ve got you back and I can have a sh*tty day at work and actually go home after and you’ll always be here.” Alex was a hiccuping, sobbing mess by the time he was done, still clinging tightly to Henry.

“Oh Alexander, love,” Henry said, squeezing him. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Let’s go lay down on the couch, okay?”

Alex sniffed and nodded, pulling away but keeping one hand tangled with Henry’s. Henry brought them to the couch, making Alex sit down first before kneeling and pulling Alex’s boots off, as well as his belt. With all of that cast aside Henry slid in next to Alex and pulled him down so they were laying together, Alex’s head on Henry’s chest as Henry carded his fingers through Alex’s hair. Alex continued to cry for awhile, more overwhelmed at having Henry back in that moment than he’d been in any other moment so far.

Chapter 42: Epilogue

Chapter Text

September 2029

Henry

In the nearly a year since Henry had been rescued, he’d managed to fall even more in love with Alex than he ever thought possible. It had been a whirlwind of a year, to say the least, with James finally getting a successful heart transplant in March, June, Pez, and Nora’s daughters born in early April, Bea and Krister’s son born in late June, and then Bea and Krister’s wedding in late July. Then, of course, there was planning Henry and Alex’s own wedding, trying to find a date to thread it in among everything else and make sure everyone could come. The wait was hard, but they knew it would be worth it to be surrounded by everyone they loved.

Through it all, Alex had been a rock. He navigated the balance between helping Henry relearn how to function in the world, and pulling him back from it when he needed a break, with the precision he brought to every other facet of their lives. Henry did the same for Alex, though in a different way, helping him pull back a little from his workaholic tendencies that had become a full-blown neurosis during the years he thought Henry was dead. Alex had actual hobbies again; woodworking, specifically, as he was determined to learn how to properly care for and repair all the work around their house.

Alex’s therapy had been going well, once he’d finally found a therapist that worked. They did couple’s therapy sometimes too, but Henry still only went once every couple weeks on his own. Just enough to get pointed in the right direction. Journaling had been helping more and more, as had working his way through all of Alex’s letters, and he had started to open up more to Alex as well. What seemed to work best for Henry was doing exactly what Alex had done: writing letters. He had two journals, one that was just for himself, and one that he shared with Alex whenever he wanted to tell him something that he couldn’t manage to say out loud. Alex would read it whenever Henry gave it to him and sometimes they’d talk about it, but other times they’d just hold onto one another for awhile after.

When Alex had told him about what he’d done with his inheritance, Henry had felt an immense amount of loving exasperation. There’d been sadness, too, of course, over how much Alex had struggled. But the conversation about the inheritance had led to a discussion of the fact the brownstone was now a practice house for queer youth, which Henry absolutely adored the thought of. He loved the charity Alex had opened in his name as well, the one for young queer authors. It had just been another thing that affirmed how well Alex knew him. Henry was planning to take a role in the one for queer authors at some point, but he hadn’t quite figured out what that looked like yet.

There were still days he and Alex both struggled, of course. Henry had mostly gotten over his issue with manilla folders, at least. Nightmares were getting less common, but they still happened. They both tended towards nightmares where their current lives weren’t real. For Alex, they were generally about Henry having actually died in the plane crash, or in the fire. For Henry, they were mostly about waking up back in the compound. The solution to both was usually to wake one another up and go out to their bright, warm kitchen to have a cup of tea or hot cocoa. They wouldn’t talk about the nightmares unless they’d been different than usual, instead just chatting idly and soaking up one another’s presence before going back to bed.

Other times it was just an overwhelming need to be close to one another. To call or text if they weren’t home, or if they were home to pile onto the couch and just hold on for awhile. David and Freddie usually joined them, along with Freddie’s new protégé, a little gray kitten Henry had found on the side of the road back in May and named Sally because she had a white spot on her ear that looked like a waning moon.

Henry still went out driving once or twice a week, but a lot of his time was spent at the training barn with Eloisa. He’d fallen completely in love with giving riding lessons and helping other people helped him. He wasn’t there today, though, or for the next two weeks after that, because it was finally, finally, time for the wedding.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Henry called as he pulled up in front of the fire station. Alex had gotten a page at three in the morning for a fire in a warehouse on the edge of town and dashed out to help. Now, he was standing around in front of the firehouse with a handful of crew members, all of them sooty and sweaty, their turnout jackets nowhere to be seen but the rest of their gear still on.

Alex grinned lopsidedly, coming over and leaning in through the window to give Henry a kiss. “Hi. Just about to head home. Did you get everything?”

Henry nodded. “I did. Is everyone okay?”

“Yep. No one was in the warehouse at the time, and there wasn’t anything hazardous in there thankfully. The other team came out to finish mopping up so Miguel and I could leave. Not exactly how I expected to spend the morning of our wedding, to be honest, sorry about that.”

Henry shrugged, giving Alex a very pointed once over. “I may not have fallen in love with a firefighter the first time around, but as you are well aware at this point, I certainly do not object to it the second time around.”

With a chuckle, Alex leaned in for another kiss. He promised he’d be right behind Henry as soon as he changed, waving goodbye as Henry pulled away.

Back at the house there was a whirlwind of activity going on already. Oscar and Justine were cooking up a storm, Bea and June were adjusting decorations out in the yard where the ceremony was taking place, and everyone else had managed to find tasks too. Miguel’s kids, the oldest of all the nieces and nephews, were doing their best to corral and watch the younger kids, with help from Martha who had James in his own pack-and-play on top of a quilt. He was fully recovered and doing fantastically at this point, but Martha and Philip both still found it a little hard not to be a touch overprotective. Henry couldn’t blame them. Besides, a toddler couldn’t be expected to understand that he needed to be more careful than his friends. He was still having a great time, though, laughing and giggling and happy. Zahra and Shaan’s son, who was the same age, was in there with him and they seemed to be getting along wonderfully.

Henry slid his new truck into an open spot—he’d decided to get a truck of his own once his horses were brought over from England—and grabbed the groceries out of the bed. It took a little ducking and weaving, but he made it inside, dropping everything on the breakfast table in the kitchen.

“Got everything you asked for,” Henry told Oscar. “And Alex is on his way.”

“Fantastic,” Oscar declared. “Now shoo. Out of the kitchen.”

Henry chuckled and did as asked, dodging Justine as she dashed back in from somewhere else in the house. Before he could make it back outside to try and find somewhere to help out, Alex was coming in through the front door, still a bit sooty. His face lit up when he saw Henry, coming over for yet another kiss.

“Come hang out with me while I shower?” Alex said. “I missed you like crazy all morning.”

Henry nodded and followed Alex back to the main bedroom. Henry still had his own, but he’d redecorated and now it was more of an office with a daybed in it.

With the door locked behind them, Alex shucked off his clothes and turned on the water, chattering about the fire while Henry sat on the padded bench along the wall of the bathroom and just enjoyed listening to Alex’s voice. Alex was meticulous about getting clean, but he didn’t shave and hadn’t for a couple of days at Henry’s request. Technically it was a little bit out of regulation since Alex needed to be clean shaven for his oxygen mask to fit properly, but they’d been able to slide under the radar given the circ*mstances. Alex would shave before he went back to work after their honeymoon, which was a road trip to visit various family at their homes as well as see some fun sights off the beaten path.

When Alex got out of the shower they both went into the bedroom to finally change into their wedding outfits, not bothering to hide from one another. This was their wedding and they were doing it their way, and their way did not involve old traditions about bad luck. It wasn’t until Alex was putting on his tie that Henry realized he was crying.

“Hey,” Henry said, voice soft as he came over and wrapped Alex up in a hug.

Alex hugged him back tightly, tucking his face in against Henry’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Henry echoed, rubbing a hand up and down Alex’s back.

“I…” Alex took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “When I went to June and Nora’s wedding, and their wedding to Pez too, all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be us, and how it never would be. But now it is. I get to marry you. I actually f*cking get to marry you.”

Henry nuzzled into Alex’s still damp hair. “Yes, you do. We get forever now.”

ALEX

When Alex was younger he’d thought the biggest adrenaline rush he’d ever experience would be getting elected to whatever office, or offices, he decided to go after. Then he’d thought it would be facing down a judge as he sparred for someone’s rights. The last handful of years, he’d thought it would be whenever he ran into a burning building and pulled someone out alive. But none of those things could hold a candle to standing across from his finance, seconds away from making him his husband. Electricity coursed through his veins as he looked at Henry standing in front of him, their fingers tangled together in the scant space between their bodies.

The beating Texas sun warmed their shoulders as it shone out of a crystal clear sky above them, the only sounds in that moment a few distant birds. Henry looked absolutely stunning, his hair grown back out to the length he liked it, a few strands getting picked up by the gentle breeze. He had on a suit, though the jacket had been abandoned, revealing the deep navy shirt he wore underneath, a slim, shimmery black tie accenting it. His smile was wide, eyes crinkled. Alex traced his eyes over Henry’s face over and over, trying to pin every little detail of this moment perfectly into his memory.

Pez was Henry’s best man, of course, and Miguel was Alex’s. Henry and Alex had kept it simple beyond that, not having any other groomsmen or bridesmaids. It was just too hard to pick without ending up having half the already slim guest list as actual members of the wedding party. Not counting the kids, there was only about thirty people there. Nate was officiating since Oscar claimed he’d be too emotional to get through the words.

Alex took a deep breath and started on the vows he’d written and been working on memorizing for over a week. He had a notecard in his pocket, but he had no desire at all to take his eyes off of Henry long enough to look at it. “Henry Fox, I take you to be my partner for life, my constant friend, and my true love. I will work every day to continue the bond of honesty, respect, trust, and understanding that we have built despite all the trials life has thrown our way. I vow to honor and respect you for all that you are and all that you will become. I promise to challenge you and to accept challenges from you. Our home will be a sanctuary and a respite for us and for those whom we cherish. Above all, I will give you my love freely and unconditionally. I pledge this to you from the bottom of my heart, for all the days of our lives.”

Henry smiled, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he squeezed Alex’s hands. With a deep breath, he started in on his own vows. “Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the first day I met you, I was done for. The second first day I met you, I was done for all over again. Everything in me recognizes your heart as my home and your arms as my shelter. You are my better half and my best friend. I will love you, honor you, and choose you over and over and over again. I promise to learn with you and grow with you, even as time and life change us both. Your love is my anchor and your trust is my strength. Today I give you all that I am, and all that I shall become.”

Alex ached to just lean forward and finally kiss Henry, but they weren’t there yet. He managed to pull his eyes away for just long enough to reach down and pluck a ring off the pillow Ines was holding, while Henry took the other. Elizabeth threw the last few petals from her basket over their hands as they did.

“Please exchange the rings,” Nate said, his voice sounding a little misty.

Henry went first, sliding Alex’s ring onto his left ring finger. Alex wouldn’t be able to wear it when he was firefighting, but there was a matching ring-keeper chain already waiting on their dresser for those days. The weight of the ring against Alex’s skin felt like an anchor in the best way, and he knew instantly that he was going to miss it whenever it was off, even if it was around his neck instead.

Alex slid Henry’s ring onto his left index finger, instead of the ring finger. Henry hadn’t regained any sensation in that part of his hand, and he didn’t want to wear a ring he couldn’t feel. Both their hands were shaking slightly now as they made eye contact once more and Alex knew Henry’s skin was probably buzzing as much as his own.

“You may kiss,” Nate said before taking a swift step to the side.

Alex threw his arms over Henry’s shoulders and pulled him in, Henry’s own arms wrapping tightly around Alex’s waist. The whole world fell away as their lips came together, tears on both their cheeks. Finally, they had their forever.