There is a pause and then static before the 19 year old spoke. "It's Simon. I need to talk to you. But I can't tell you why over the phone. I'll see you soon okay?" The message was followed by a click of the phone hanging up.
If you don't think Alex doesn't immediately try and call that number, then well, you don't know Alex. (Even if she did blink a bit when she first got the call and remembered how Simon said he was worried about frightening her the last time that she'd actually spoken to him.)
After dialing the number, she's just holding onto her breath to see if this time he can answer. Or will answer.
As soon as Simon's phone rang, he answered it. He leaned against the wall of the house he had been squatting in. "Alex..." His voice was calm as usual, even though he was panicking on the inside. The walls of the building had symbols written on them, triangles and Sumarian numerology that only he knew the translation and symbolism of. He ran his free hand over the arm holding the phone, clawing slightly. "You're in danger."
Alex wished that she was surprised by what Simon had said, but she wasn't. Honestly, she'd been feeling like she was lowkey in danger since she'd first discovered Maddie Franks' body all those months ago. Still, she closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, looking around her apartment and wishing that she hadn't let Nic chase her out of the studio.
"New imminent danger or the same old danger, Simon? Also, is it okay if I start recording this?" At least she was asking this time, honestly. Even if her finger was already about to reach for the button.
Simon knew Alex may have thought she was in danger, but she was in way over her head now. He closed his eyes and leaned further into the wall. He rocked back and forth slightly. But then he shook his head, forgetting she couldn't see him. He knew it was dangerous. They could be tracing his calls.
"Old and New. Alex, He's watching. He's listening...." He knew he sounded just as insane as he had back when they first met. But then he was asked if he could be recorded. He paused for a long moment. "Yeah. And we need to talk. In person. I can't tell you everything. Not yet..."
The difference was that after everything, Alex didn't think that he was so insane now. There had just been too much insanity for her to keep on believing in the black and white world of Dr. Strand. So, she accepted that she probably was in danger if Simon said that she was, and she was already bracing, planning in her head for the next steps that she should be taking.
And of course Alex hit that record button on her phone.
"Do you mean Warren?" Alex was pretty sure he meant Warren. Warren seemed to be behind everything. And then knowing that both Nic and Strand would probably kill her, she asked quickly before she could lose her nerve. "Where do you want to meet? I'm hoping I don't need to fly to Russia." The last bit was said half-jokingly, because it was a typical Alex defense mechanism.
Simon knew he had scared Alex the last time he had talked to her. He had told her the truth, about her causing the end of the world. He knew he was being recorded. So he was careful with what he said. He always was when being recorded.
"I can't tell you who I mean...but airing that clip....you caused the end of the world, Alex. I told you before, there're some people who want to watch the world burn..." At the mention of her having to go to Russia, he let out a breathy laugh.
No, it would be more simple than that. "I'll meet you. Oh, and I like your new bedsheets. They're nicer than your old ones."
For a minute, Alex just swallowed and she looked around her apartment. Nic and Richard hadn't believed that Simon had been inside of it and knocking during her sleep note, but she did even if she hadn't wanted to admit readily to that belief. But it was something else to hear him mention her apartment so openly.
And once again, Alex tries to take the joking way out, though there's a bit of a forced note in her tone. "Well, thank Amalia, I guess. She thought I needed more adult ones." With a nicer thread count, of course.
Taking a deep breath, Alex just moved from her sofa and into her kitchen. "Should I put coffee on for the two of us then?" A beat, because this was something way more normal than what the two of them normally did. "Do you actually drink coffee?" Coffee was Alex's lifeblood and security blanket. She didn't know what that might be for Simon.
Simon heard the forced joke and rolled his eyes. Oh; she could try to believe that he couldn't bilocate. But the truth was, he had gotten stronger. In Turkey, he had managed to learn more about his ability. And in doing so, he was able to bilocate physically. Or at least make whatever part of him that could bilocate more tangible
"If you have cream and sugar," he replied. He was not a big coffee drinker but he didn't mind it once in a while. He looked around at the symbols he had drawn around himself and sighed. "Don't be scared when you see me. I learned to make myself visble when I bilocate."
The young man had specifically gone to Turkey in order to learn about more of his abilities. And another quest that he was not ready to share with anyone just yet. Not until he could prove his theory.
"I always have cream and sugar. Those are probably the only staples I constantly have." Because Alex wasn't someone who cooked. Ever. Milk and sugar and ramen were probably the only thing that she made sure that she had along with coffee. Coffee was Alex's main food group, honestly, which probably helped with that whole not sleeping thing.
As for the rest, she took a deep breath, and considered setting up a video to record Simon, but she didn't want to do that. It wasn't worth the argument with Strand when he didn't even have that million dollars that she would have counted on anyway. Still, she moved into her kitchen and started filling up the water for her kettle.
"Okay..." Nodding, even though he can't see her, she started the electric kettle and then turned to look at her living room. "I'm in the kitchen if it matters. I don't know if it does but..." Because god knew what factored into him being able to do this, and if he needed to know where she was so he didn't bilocate into her or whatever.
One bottle of wine, half a black and white horror movie, and a lot of sex later, John wakes up after the first few hours of sleep he's had in over a week next to a beautiful woman.
John coils a strand of Alex's dark, curly hair around one of his fingers, watching her face as she sleeps. She looks good in his bed. Felt good, too. When they were kissing, touching, fucking, there were moments he lost himself in Alex, entirely focused on giving her pleasure. Not all the way. John couldn't disappear completely, but close enough.
He lets go of her hair, pulls the blanket up higher over her naked shoulder. It's a small bed, but she's a small woman, and John's no Arnold Schwarzenegger. Together, they just fit. Better than he did with...
John rubs his face, looks at the clock. The sun will be rising soon. John doesn't know if Alex has work, but he does. They can grab coffee together on the way out, if she isn't sick of him already. John doesn't know if he wants her to be or not.
All he knows is he doesn't want, or need, anything more than this.
Alex doesn't normally do the sleepover thing. Hell, Alex doesn't normally do the sleep thing, and when she does it's lightly. She made a soft sound as he played with her hair, but when he covered her over, Alex groaned softly and blinked before coming awake quickly. That was the good (or shitty) thing about her sleeping patterns: she could go from out like a light to completely away in a snap.
Without looking away from him, Alex reflexively reached behind her to grab her glasses and to slide them over her nose. There, the world looked better when it was more than just a bit of fuzziness in front of her. Her hand moved to cup his cheek, stroking along his jaw for a second before she just said, "morning."
Alex was good about knowing when people weren't being themselves, and this was one of those moments, there was a deep frown on her face her eyes peering intently into his own. "Are you okay, John?"
"Morning." Her fingers are soft against the rough of his cheek. He hasn't shaved in a couple days. John turns his face into her hand, smiling against her palm, because it helps not to look Alex in the eye as he lies to her.
"Yeah. I'm fine." He scoots up on the bed, dog-tags rattling against his bare chest, back against the headboard.
"How about you?" Deflection. They'd played pretty safe, but there were moments of roughness. Neither of them are delicate people, and John hasn't been in the mood for gentleness. She'll have bruises and bite marks to last her a couple days, and he'll have scratches to match.
John would have his fair share of bite marks as well. Alex is definitely a biter. But she sits up when he pulls away, studying him for a moment before she shook her head. "No, no regrets. I mean, that's one good thing about this. No strings attached, just fun." Because that's all it was. The two of them weren't dating, and they weren't in love with one another, it was just a booty call.
That said, Alex did consider him a friend, and she cared about him, which was why she was watching him so intently. At her very core, Alex was a reporter who was good at reading people, and she could see deflection coming from two miles out. He was only a few feet from her at the moment.
"You?" She asked softly, and then sat up a bit too, dragging the blanket with her for a bit of warmth rather than any sort of modesty. They'd spent the night together and were adults, he'd seen all of Alex before. And then without waiting for him to respond she just offers: "you know if you need an ear, I'm a good listener. And you really don't seem all that alright."
John wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. For warmth. He's observant too. She feels small against his side. Softer, daintier, than he's gotten used to. John hadn't forgotten how much he likes women, they're definitely the fairer sex, but it's been a while.
"No regrets. I had fun. What's not to like about spaghetti and sex?"
He smiles, giving her a squeeze. John likes Alex too. Would also consider her a friend. They haven't hung out a whole lot, but they've chatted, and after last night? He'd say they know each other pretty well. Physically, anyway.
Still, he wasn't anticipating Alex to keep pushing. This was what the kids call 'Netflix & Chill', and talking about his problems isn't John's idea of chilling. He closes his eyes, his chest and throat feeling increasingly tight. He's kept his emotions locked down for the better for of a week. Before that, he'd done his best to hide, and survive, until he had enough control over himself to risk interaction.
Talking about it might make it casual. Casual would be more comfortable than whatever he's feeling right now. Too much, and not enough at the same time. Raw and empty.
"Break up. Kind of." As if that explains everything.
"I don't really know if there was anything to break." A shrug, thumb brushing over her ribs. He's still smiling, but he's staring straight ahead, across the room. It doesn't reach his eyes.
Alex Reagan wasn't entirely known for her chill. No, mostly she could be known for her lack of chill, at least mentally even as she let him pull her closer to his warm body. She was frowning at him, as he said that he'd had kind of a breakup. Kind of a breakup was definitely something that counted as a break up in Alex's mind, even if the other person didn't strictly agree. Either way, there were enough feelings involved on John's part, it seemed that he was bothered by it.
So even though it was perhaps some sort of violation of the friends with benefits and no strings attached code, Alex reached up and hugged him. It was just a hug; there was nothing flirting or sexual in it. It was something that she just did for comfort because he seemed like he needed it just as much as he'd needed a night of mindless sex to get her mind off of what was going on.
Not that Alex would ever judge him for the whole mindless sex thing. She got it, and was a very eager participant in it after all.
Her voice was soft, and there was no judgment in it, only concern for him, and it was slightly muffled by his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it? I'm actually a pretty good listener and I'm not going to judge." She probably wouldn't have wanted to talk about it either, but she wanted to give him the offer. Sometimes you just needed to rant at someone about things like this, and after all, she was right here.
Alex hugs him, and he snaps back out of his fugue. He wasn't expecting it, in spite of the fact they'd spent the entire night in each other's arms. Sex has always been easy for John, and he's never had a shortage of interested partners. Easy to keep simple. Get the other person off, and you can pat yourself on the back and call it a night.
It's the casual intimacy that gets to him. Hugs. Holding hands. Lying together, like this, instead of bolting for the door as soon as they're finished. Sometimes, he just doesn't know what to make of it. Whether he likes the feeling of being held close, or if it's painful. Because he knows it won't last, and that he shouldn't get used to it. Then he doesn't have to go without, or feel the lack of it, when he's alone again. Which he always is.
Right now he feels raw, so raw that her question, however gentle, makes him flinch. John prefers to lick his wounds in private. So no one can rub salt in them. He made the mistake of opening himself up to Poe, and now he's regretting it.
"Not really." He shifts uncomfortable, suddenly feeling stiff, like a stranger in his own bed.
He wants to forget. Wants to stop thinking about him. Wants to stop aching Liquor and sex are a decent band-aid, but beneath the skin, he's still badly bruised.
"I don't doubt you're a good listener, it's just that I'm a bad talker." He gives her a half-smile. It's a bad joke, only kind of funny because it's mostly true.
But Alex is so soft, soft enough that she doesn't hurt leaning into him, soft enough he doesn't want her to go, because without her he's left to his own abrasive thoughts. It's selfish, he knows it is, she deserves better than to be his comforter.
"I didn't go looking for anything. It just sort of... happened. I don't know what I was thinking, starting anything in a place like this, with what I've got going on back home. He had his own stuff going on, too. Guess I got too attached, was asking for too much, when I shouldn't have been. He never wanted it. I just ignored the signs, because it felt good."
He sighs, scrubs at his face. Closes his eyes, and turns his face into her hair. Forces his heart down out of his throat and back into his chest.
Alex is quite used to being around bad talkers. It's been a constant for three years, so she knows to keep quiet when he actually is talking. She just watches him for a moment, slowly moving her index and middle finger over his chest in slow and soothing circles while he talks. That whole not wanting to get involved with someone here is a thing that she definitely understands, and she also understands about falling for someone when you absolutely totally should not do the thing. But of course, more often than not your heart doesn't give a damn what your brain thinks.
The quietness stretches for a moment, because Alex is thinking about what he said, and she can also tell how torn he is just to be talking about all of this. Alex's empathy is one of the things that makes her a good reporter, but sometimes it's also one of the things that can get her into a lot of trouble. Right now, it's straddling the line between both of them.
"I'm so sorry, John." Alex means it, and they're not just soothing words. She's sorry for what he has to go through with this because she knows just how much it can gnaw on your heart, and how the ache doesn't really go away just because you know it should. Brains really should have more power over that, but they don't. "Do you think there's any chance that things might straighten out between you two?" And then because she's Alex, and Alex defuses tension with bad jokes she gives him a ghost of a smile and adds, "I mean, not straightening out but yeah." Pansexual Alex Reagan to the terrible joke rescue?
John snorts against her neck at her joke. It’s terrible, but appreciated. He’d rather laugh than cry.
“I don’t know.” A pause, concentrating on the sensation of Alex’s touch to keep himself grounded. He soaks up the proximity of her. It’s the first comfort he’s allowed himself since his downward spiral became a free-fall. The random bar hook ups aren’t the same as this. He doesn’t want to know their names, doesn’t want them to knows his. He isn’t looking to strangers to give him pleasure. He’s looking for them to turn him numb.
“No. He had his reasons, and they were valid.” John’s thought about it. Going to Poe and begging on his knees. Offering up whatever he wants, even if it’s just sex with no strings attached. Something’s better than nothing. John wants to tell himself it’s a matter of pride, but pride isn’t the half of it. Truth is, he just can’t handle being rejected a second time.
He’ll wait for the storm to pass. He knows it will, eventually, and Poe will be just one more scar amongst many. Except deeper than most, because he’d let him in farther than anyone. Like a goddamn fool. No wonder Poe had run in the opposite direction. No one sees that much of John Sheppard and stays. Hell, he’d leave himself if he could.
Never again.
He starts kissing Alex’s jaw, rough hand sliding up and down her side.
He didn't need to say that he was waiting. It was practically written in the skin that she was brushing with her fingertips. Alex frowned, because while she didn't have any sort of romantic feelings for John (or he for her, which was why they were here right now) but she did care about him as a friend, and it was never good or easy to see a friend turned inside out about something like he was on this one.
He didn't want to talk anymore, and Alex didn't want to make him. It wasn't fair to do so, and the last thing she'd wanted to do was to cause him harm or to shove him away when he needed a friend. Things like this, losing someone could break a person, and it seemed like John was trying to put himself back together with masking tape and bubble gum. Alex couldn't imagine going through and breaking what was still barely holding together.
"Well, if this was a porno," Alex said, going for the joke again, "I'd say shower sex, but that never works out as much as you think it's going to and I'd rather not have a funny story that I need to explain why I look like a grandma moving." And then she just kissed him softly. "So I guess we're going to need to go with sex."
"You're right. Actually dropping the soap is only half as hot as it sounds." Which is to say, negative levels of hot.
John wraps an arm around her, pulling her back down onto the bed with him. Kissing her back. Needy, and more than a little desperate. Everything he can't say with words, the loneliness, and the hurt, communicated with his lips.
He doesn't know if he'll get over Poe. He doesn't know if he'll ever want to try for something close to a relationship again. All he knows right now is that Alex is here, and she's kind, and she's warm, and he needs her. He's grateful she's here.
John can't say it, but he can show his appreciation in other ways.
[Rey had hit a nerve. Not exactly a 'nail on the head' nerve, because she hadn't. It was her persistently annoying and childish insistence that she understood what was going on that bothered him, and the fact that he had to wonder how much she did know. How much Alex had told her. How much she hadn't told him.
Hadn't they just had this argument, and she had done it all over again, to the annoyance of his being harassed over this stupid friendr. He knew the stupid thing was a bad idea. He was right, of course. He was always right. Even if there had been more interesting or good about it, he would never admit that. Especially with how angry he was. Again.
He made his way over to where she was in the house and crossed his arms at her. Glaring as if she'd just tried to force private information into the podcast without his permission. Again. Then again, this was practically the same thing.]
Just how much did you tell that woman about me.
[The words 'that woman' was practically spit out like venom from a cobra.]
[All and all, Alex had been feeling rather amused with the comments that she'd been getting on her friendr, and she'd been about to go into his office and show him when he came into the room. The smile that accompanied his entrance just shifted into a look of complete confusion for a moment, because as far as she knew, she hadn't done anything wrong.
She hadn't talked about him beyond anything other than saying that she loved him and had wanted him for three years. Which honestly wasn't exactly a surprise to anyone who had read the joke of her calling herself Richard Strand sexual on the app. Which he'd definitely known about, because she'd shown it to him months ago in an effort to make him laugh while he was sick.
But she knew that look, and it was the sort of one that came with the familiar sensation of armor sliding on, because this wasn't a fight that would segway into banter, no this was a fight like the other one had been, and she wasn't at all prepared for it. Not in the slightest, so her armor was clumsy and hastily applied as she just watched him confusedly.]
[Richard's armor was up, locked and surrounding him like a high wall. His armor had always been to protect him, to keep betrayal out, and Alex had betrayed him quite a few times this week. She was lucky he hadn't just walked out and not come back, but he was trying not to do that anymore. Not with her at least. It didn't make the inclination any less appealing in times like this.
Her fumbling and confusion did nothing to soften his attitude. She'd, done it again. She'd set things out into the world that would come to bite him not her, him, and yet she felt as if nothing was wrong with it. Nothing was wrong with some child railing against him and invading him the way that that woman did.
He tosses the phone at her. Not to harm her and it isn't even really anywhere near her. It's simply his way of handing it to her without giving her the satisfaction of his moving toward her. She can see for herself what happened. He has nothing to hide. Unlike her.]
[Alex knows him, and she knows how he looks with his armor locked up, and this is a level of armor that she's not seen in a while. Not since he got back from Charlie maybe? Before? It'd been a long time, because he's keeping every bit of Richard from himself right now, and he's armed entirely in the asshole persona of Dr. Strand, with three phds from Yale including the one that tells you what a fuck up you are.
She catches the phone when he threw it, and she slides her finger across it, keeping one eye on him and the other eye on what he's got open because if it's important enough for him to be Strand right now, then there's no doubt that it's directly on top, all of his evidence already to be presented and used to discount anything that she may have in rebuttal.
As soon as she sees it's Rey, Alex just frowns. Oh. This isn't going to be good, and she knows it as soon as she reads it. The frown only deepens, and a line of anger appears in her forehead as it turns into a scowl because well... what the fuck, Rey?. Then she deliberately closes the phone and sighs.]
I haven't talked about you to anyone since we talked about it, Richard. I told you I wouldn't. I talked to Rey about you months ago. Months. Two months before you even showed up, when I didn't think you'd ever come! I had know idea when I told her that you kept disappearing that she'd go around and do this. But it's true, you did.
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