Memories We Won't Erase - Part One
Title: Memories We Won't Erase
Pairing: Alex Carver/Malcolm Rudolph
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: Minor character death, some violence (zombies, after all). Part of the cyclists + zombies AU. For apocabigbang.
Mix, Watched It Burn Together, by fangie_yin
Mix (tracklist) by fangie_yin
Some people call it the year of the unspeakable, though it's been over a year and it's not nearly over. Others call it the end of the world. Alex calls it the time he was forced to grow up and give up everything he loved. Mal calls it hell and tries to pretend it didn't happen. They don't talk about what happened when they were stuck in an airport in Switzerland, at least not often. They don't talk about the fighting, or the fact they watched people die (that they killed people). Neither of them talk about their teammates who didn’t survive. Sometimes Alex has nightmares; the doctors call it post-traumatic stress, but he calls it survivor's guilt. Mal never admits he has the nightmares, but Alex knows he does.
Before their long year in Switzerland, Alex and Mal were just friends (and sometimes roommates). There was nothing deeper between them but their sport, and sometimes their taste in music. Alex wasn't prepared for what happened, but he could take comfort in the fact that Mal wasn't either. It started innocently enough, a disease that wouldn't spread beyond the closed borders of South America. Of North America. Of England. They sat in their hotel, packing to go home after too much time in Europe. Tour de France on the TV, cheering for compatriots while they followed the race on Mal's iPhone. At the airport, their bikes being loaded onto the plane. Boarding and then delays. One after another, flights canceled. Then the military locked down the airport and they were stuck.
At first they could call home, use the internet, contact the outside world. But after a few days, that passed in a blur, even those failed, too. Occasionally, if Mal sat in the corner, near the front of the terminal, he could get a signal from one of the last working cell towers, but he couldn't make any calls. It was on Mal's iPhone that both he and Alex discovered the news. It was then on the TVs scattered around the terminals that they watched the world, as they knew it, fall apart. It was out the windows of the airport that they watched the zombies descend on them. The tarmacs were clear of the zombies, because the airport was surrounded by fences, but the parking garage, the roads in front of the airport, the sidewalks outside the main terminal, were flooded with zombies.
“How long d'you think we'll be here?” The voice cuts through Alex's thoughts. He turns, looking at the little girl who's practically become family. He squats down so he can look her in the eye.
“I don't know, Alice. But hopefully someone will rescue us soon.” He glances up at the old man sitting at one of the tables near an abandoned Mexican restaurant, still functioning, at least for now. He shakes his head at Alex, it's been almost two months already and there's been no contact from the outside world, aside from the still-running news channels.
Alice sighs, and then turns when she hears her name. A boy, about her age, named Jack, calls out to her. They run off to play in the children's area, which is thankfully in the main safe zone of the airport. Alex stands and walks toward the windows. The old man pushes up off his chair and follows. They stand, looking out over the airport. They can see the chain linked fences and, beyond them, the zombies, pressing against the metal, trying to get in.
“Son, you shouldn't lie to her.” He replies and Alex looks over at him.
He shrugs. “I know, but how do we tell her that her parents are dead? That we're the only ones she's got?” He doesn't know how he's managed to keep it together this long.
The old man shakes his head and Alex knows that he doesn't have a better answer either. They lapse into silence and even through the thick, probably bulletproof, glass Alex can hear the incessant and never ceasing moaning. He finally drags himself away from the windows, trying to force himself to think of something else, anything else. His mind wanders, remembering the last time he talked to his parents, still safely in Australia. To his friends, many of them probably dead, he's sure. But those at home, still alive. He thinks of his teammates and he knows they're dead. Racing in parts of Europe now overrun with zombies.
He walks past the children's area. They'd long since found paint and covered most of the windows, so the kids, though there are only a handful now, can't see out. It's not much protection, but it makes the adults feel safer. Alice and Jack wave to him and he waves back, then goes in search of Mal. He knows where his friend will be, alone in their alcove, near where their plane still sits on the tarmac. Destined never to take them home.
A month ago, the airport was teaming with people. The news of the disease slowly trickling in until all flights were canceled. He could've left, he almost did. There were people claiming that the disease wasn't actually here, just other parts of Europe. Or that you could get flights out of Denmark or Holland, or even Germany. But in the end, he'd opted to stay because Mal wasn't going to leave. Alex couldn't stand the thought of leaving his friend, his roommate, alone in the airport. But he was also embarrassingly scared and if Mal wanted to stay, then Alex was going to stay.
It turned out, they discovered a few days later, that it was good they stayed. The people who'd left were dead, out in the garage, on the roads, beyond those fences. The remaining people, maybe 200 or so, though Alex couldn't be sure, were the only ones alive. One of pilots, who'd stayed, had made contact with the military, or whoever was in charge, and they were promised a rescue. Of course, that had been weeks ago, right after the airport closed completely.
Alex sees Mal, sprawled out on several of the chairs, reading month old copy of L'Équipe. Alex sits on the floor, head resting against Mal's leg. They don't really talk, not that they had serious conversations before, but they barely speak to each other. Alex thinks it's because they're both scared that if they speak, it'll mean this is real. But Alex isn't stupid, he knows it's real. He's just irrationally scared that Mal will leave him.
He closes his eyes, head tipped back and resting comfortably against Mal. He must've drifted off, because when he wakes up, the sun's setting. He feels Mal's fingers in his hair, stroking it, almost calmly. He turns, though not enough to disturb Mal's hand. Mal looks older, tired and worn out. Alex knows he must look the same. He shifts slightly when Mal pulls his hand back.
“Mal ...” Alex starts, because he can't remember the last time he said Mal's name.
Mal doesn't say anything, just shifts, sitting up a little, holding Alex's gaze.
“I'm scared.” Alex's voice is a soft whisper, words slipping into the oncoming darkness.
Mal shifts, sliding off the seats and onto the floor. “Me too.” He replies and Alex feels relief flood through him.
“Why don't we talk?” He asks, before he can think better of it.
Mal shrugs. “I thought you didn't want to.”
Alex can't help laughing, just a little. “I thought you didn't want to.”
Mal smiles and Alex thinks it's the first smile he's seen on Mal's face for weeks. “I wanted to. I thought … You talk to everyone but me.”
“I'm sorry, I … Fuck, Mal. I'm sorry, mate.” Alex stumbles over his words, feeling like an idiot.
Mal shakes his head. “No, stop. It's fine.”
He holds Mal's gaze for a long time, then too long because his cheeks start to flush and he has to turn away. It's nearly dark and they'll have to pull their makeshift shades down and go find food. But Alex doesn't want to move, so he just stays there, feeling the warmth of Mal's body next to his, even though they aren't even touching.
It takes Mal another month before he figures out that Alex probably has a crush on him and that he's pretty sure he has one on Alex. He thinks, but doesn't care, that it's probably because they're stuck here together. But that doesn't explain why Alex always brushes off the girls from Gate C, or the boy from Gate D. Though he understands about the kind of creepy dude from Gate F. They spend most of their time with each other, and Alice, Jack and George, the old man who turned out to be Alice's grandfather. All five of them live in Gate J, which is now their home.
They created tents out of tarp from the construction sites that they raided before the zombies penetrated into those areas. They don’t need the tents, but it’s nice pretend to have a little privacy. They raided the planes next, taking food and blankets, pillows and whatever else they could find. Who knew that seat cushions could be strapped together to make beds. It was Alex who had the idea that they could go through people's luggage. It made Mal squirm, but he imagined that Alex was right when he assumed that everyone with unclaimed luggage was probably dead, or assumed their items were lost.
While they were digging through the luggage - only during the day, of course - Alex found their stuff. Suitcases and bikes, their cycling kits. It took Mal exactly a week to convince Alex that they should be riding. And so they did. For fun, through the abandoned sections of the airport, out on the tarmac. But also to help. They rigged up carts, carrying heavy items across the buildings, giving rides to the children, and patrolling the fences.
Frank, from Gate A, turned out to be a US Marshall on vacation. He had his gun, which was in his suitcase and he found several others and taught everyone over 17 how to shoot. Alex turned out to be a superb shot, Mal couldn't do it without his hands shaking. Even when Alex pulled off that move from the beginning of that horrible BBC show, Torchwood, where he stood behind Mal, arms around him as he tried to show him the right way to shoot. His hands shook even more, though not out of fear.
They'd only had to kill 11 zombies so far and eventually Mal was trusted with a pistol. Alex got a shotgun. And Hunter, the boy who liked Alex, but not enough to make any moves after he was turned down the first time, made up their three man patrol team. They walked, biked and ran along the perimeter, making sure there were no holes in the fence, no ways zombies could get it. Mostly it was easy work, because the zombies, though strong, weren't smart enough to rip through the fences. Alex and Hunter were concerned that so many would gather that the fences would collapse. But Mal assumed that by that time, they'd probably be dead from starvation. The subject didn't come up again.
It was a few days after Mal had his revelation about his feelings for Alex (and Alex's feelings for him) but he hadn't said anything, when the second breach occurred. He and Alex were on their bikes, heading toward the south gate, the one they'd all agreed would be the weakest point. Except the zombie that almost bit Alex wasn't coming from the south. It was coming from the east, not a weak point according to their maps. Mal shot it without thinking, the panic of losing Alex almost outweighing his common sense. By the time Hunter returned with reinforcements, Alex and Mal had taken down at least eight by themselves. Frank had shot the last one, and then one more where they found the breach. They spent the rest of the day patching the hole.
When Andre didn't show up for dinner or role call, no one discussed the fact that he'd probably tried to escape. He wasn't the first and Mal tried not to think about the others. He hadn't killed them, neither had Alex, but Frank had. One of them even before she'd had a chance to turn. Even thinking about it now made Mal sick. By the time they got back to the airport, it was past lunch and everyone was worried. Alex's face was pale and Mal did the only thing he could think of, he reached out and grabbed Alex's hand and hadn't let go until they were safely back in their little tent at Gate J.
“Mal?” Alex's voice was soft and frightened.
“Yeah?” He looked over at Alex, worry spreading through him.
“Thanks.”
“For?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Saving my life.” Alex looked so young, even though he wasn't, not anymore.
Mal crawled across the floor of their makeshift tent and wrapped his arms around Alex. “I can't do this without you.” He whispered, relieved when Alex sank into his arms.
“Me either.” Came the muffled reply.
That was the first time they shoved their airplane seat cushion beds together, to make one big bed. Mal slept better than he had in weeks. And the next morning, he could tell Alex had, too.
Sometimes Alex finds it hard to reconcile the fact that the world he lives in is different from the future he'd hope to have. He'll ride his bike for hours along the concourses, not stopping. His iPod always going, no longer able to be updated, but charged, because they somehow still have electricity. He pretends that he's training, that when he opens his eyes, he'll be on the open road and in a race. But every day is the same. Sleep, patrolling, breakfast, free time, lunch, free time and assigned chores, dinner, patrolling or free time, and then sleep. Nothing changes.
Except for the days the zombies get in and that time he almost died. He has nightmares for a week and wakes up every morning with his face pressed against Mal's chest. He knows he's clinging to Mal in his sleep, he knows that Mal's worried, but they don't talk about it. They do talk about everything else, but they don't talk about how Alex almost died. How Mal saved his life.
By the time November rolls around, they've begun rationing everything, though it's not strictly necessary yet. If the electricity goes, there are plenty of blankets and clothes to go around, but none of their group are prepared for winter, not really. There's talk of trying to make trips into the nearby city for food, but there's no guarantee that someone can leave, forage and then come back alive. They've all seen the news footage, broadcast once a day, at noon local time. Exposure to the zombies is fatal and it's best to die before you've turned. It makes Alex shudder and he can see the fear on Mal's face.
His brush with death makes him hyper-aware, but not reckless. He knows Frank was worried, because they'd had a talk, just the two of them.
“Alex, are you sure you're all right?” Frank had said quietly, once he pried Alex away from Mal.
“Yeah. I mean, I was almost killed by a zombie, right? But I wasn't and so I'm alive, which is good.” He'd mumbled the words out, not sure he believed them anymore than Frank did.
Frank smiled slightly and went on, his voice gruff. “You're not going to go out there on your own, are you?”
Alex looked a bit shocked. “No, mate. I don't want to turn into one of those. I don't want ...” He stopped.
Frank looked at him expectantly. “You don't want?” He asked and there was a bemused look on his face.
“I don't want to leave Mal alone.” Alex replied, looking at the floor, at his hands.
He felt Frank's hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. Frank was smiling properly now, like a proud dad.
“You're a good kid, Alex. You and Mal. Your parents should be proud of you.” He replied, then walked off, apparently satisfied that Alex wasn't going to go all Resident Evil after all.
That's how Mal found him, a few hours later. There was panic on his face and Alex had just slid his hand into Mal's and promised he was fine, that he wasn't going anywhere. Mal had looked relieved, but he made Alex promise not to run off again, at least not without telling him. Alex made Mal promise the same and for a moment their fears hung in the air between them.
That was almost a month ago and now it's halfway through November and getting colder. They never moved their beds back and Alex thinks that something's going on between him and Mal and they just don't (won't?) talk about it. He crawls into bed, curling up against Mal's side and they both sleep, deep and hard. As if comforted by each other's presence.
Alex doesn't question it and tries not to think too much about it. He doesn't know if he can handle being gay, after all he likes girls well enough. There's even a girl back in Australia who he kind of wanted to date. Except all he thinks about these days is Mal. Mal's fingers in his hair, Mal's arms around him when he's having nightmares, Mal's hand in his. Hunter had tried, earlier, but Alex just wasn't interested. He thought maybe it'd be fun, you know, to kiss a bloke. But Hunter wasn't looking for fun, at least not Alex's kind of fun. And the girls, well, they just wanted a boy to fuss over them and Alex wasn't the type. Especially now when he was the one everyone was fussing over.
If he was honest with himself, and he tried not to be, the person he really wanted was Mal. Even before all this bullshit about zombies and the end of the world. He'd just pretended he hadn't, because he was a bloke and Mal was a bloke and you're not allowed to have crushes on guys when you're in a sport that some of your friends call gay (which it's not, you'll always insist). Just because you wear those skin suit kits and like doing the madison doesn't mean that you like boys, too. Except, Alex finally realized, maybe it was true, at least about him.
He was having this internal debate when Alice found him. She looked up at him with her big, beautiful brown eyes and he sat down on the floor. His back was to the window and he was grateful when she crawled onto his lap, looking away from the windows.
“Did you and Mal have a fight?” She asked in her lovely, French-accented English.
He shook his head. “No, why?”
“Because you look angry.” She replied, cuddling in his arms.
Alex couldn't help but smile a little. “I'm not mad at him, just myself.”
“Why?” Alice asked, all innocence.
“Because I have something to tell him and I don't know how.” He said and as the words tumbled out, he knew that was the truth.
Alice turned and looked him right in the eye. “Are you going to tell Mal you love him? Because he loves you.” She replied and Alex could only stare at her.
“How do you know that?”
Alice laughed, a sound he knew they all missed hearing. “Because he looks at you like my mommy looks at my daddy.” She replied, then stood up and skipped away.
He watched her go, wishing he could be that innocent. But also trying to process what she'd said. How did this nine year old girl know how Mal looked at him? How could she know? He didn't have time to ponder because suddenly the breach alarms were going off and he was sprinting across the concourse, grabbing his guns and following the shouted instructions.
The breach came from inside the building. The second floor of the airport had been secured and while no one lived there, just as with the basement level, it was frequently patrolled. The problem was no one realized the carpark across the street (which was five levels) had a connecting bridge that led to an elevator and stairs and thus the doors weren't locked or blocked. Which was how the zombies got it. By the time Alex arrived, Mal was already knee deep in dead zombies. They all were.
Mal pulled back, far enough away to explain the situation to Alex. They stood behind the line of fire, trying to figure out what to do. Mal was breathing hard, sweating and he felt tired. Alex looked like he was heading into shock, but then Mal watched as he shook his head, the look of shock replaced by a fierce look of what Mal could only term as fight mixed with fear. He knew it well.
“We have to block the entrance.” Alex hissed.
Mal shook his head. “I know, but they keep coming.”
Alex balled his hand into a fist and Mal wanted to grab it, to pull Alex away so they could hide and live, though that wasn't an option.
“We need … We need something, like a bomb or whatever. To throw in the hallway.” Alex's eyes glinted as if he had an idea.
“Do you know how to make a bomb?” Mal asked.
“No, but. There's a supply closet up here. We haven't, I mean. We've basically ignored this area, right?”
Mal could only nod.
“There are bunch of cleaning products. Some of them have got to be flammable.”
Mal was suddenly catching on. “Go, go. I'll tell Frank.”
It took them almost thirty minutes before they found something that would work. With a little help from Hunter, they managed to create something close to a bomb. There was a brief argument about who would go, but it was Alex who won. He felt bad for getting there so late into the fight and there wasn't any way Mal could convince him to let someone else go.
They got ready, Hunter and Mal, along with a few others, next to some heavy furniture that would block the door once they were able to shut it. Alex looked at Mal and held his gaze and Mal wanted to tell him how much he loved him, but he didn't say anything. He just nodded and then Alex was running, through the mess of zombies, most of them dead or dying, but still dangerous. Mal couldn't stop watching and promised that if they escaped from this alive, he wouldn't let Alex out of his sight. And if Alex came back to him now, he'd tell him the truth. He heard the fire before he saw the zombies start to fall. It wasn't killing them, not really, but it slowed them enough that Alex was able to get a lot of shots off. Then the door was closing and Mal flew into action.
It took them an hour to kill the remaining zombies and lock the door down. Clean up took another hour and then, though it was nearly dinner time, Frank made them go through the buildings, checking all the doors. It was a good thing, Mal though, because they ended up finding a few doors that could've lead to breaches. He was still shaking by the time they all met up for dinner. No one spoke, but it was clear everyone was glad to be alive. Alex was the hero, but he didn't seem to notice. He just sat as close to Mal as possible, and Mal wasn't going to complain about that.
Afterward, when they'd finally made their way back to Gate J, they were alone. George had taken Alice and Jack to the children's play area to watch a film on someone's laptop, leaving Mal and Alex to themselves. It was dark, there were no lights, not like the first month. They all had batteries for flashlights and one of the long-abandoned stores had sold scented candles, so each gate was given a ration, but neither Mal nor Alex had used theirs.
“Alex?” Mal said, glancing over to his friend, standing in front of the window. Even in the dark, he could make out the shapes of the zombies. He could hear them even when it was quiet, especially then.
Alex turned and looked at Mal.
“Are you okay?” It wasn't the first time he'd asked that question.
Alex shook his head and Mal knew how he felt. He walked over to Alex, hands deep in his pockets. He was scared, that Alex would die, that he would die. That they'd never be able to leave this airport. But he didn't want to be alone and he wasn't alone, not when he had Alex. Mal stepped in closer, pulling his hands free, and then pulled Alex into a hug.
“Mal ...” Alex started, then pressed his face against Mal's neck.
“Alex, you know that I love you.” Mal whispered the words into the almost-silence.
Alex pulled back a little and then he kissed Mal. It was hot and hard, fierce and too intense for Mal to handle, but he didn't break the kiss. He shifted, pushing Alex back, against the window, kissing him harder. He felt Alex's hands along his arms, then down, against his hips. He pressed their bodies together, kissing him harder.
“I love you, Mal.” Alex replied, breathless against Mal's mouth.
Later, tucked into bed after almost an hour of standing in front of the window and doing nothing but kissing and forgetting how to breathe, they talked. Though they were wearing several layers to keep warm, Mal felt like they were wearing nothing at all. Alex rested his head against Mal's shoulder, with Mal's arms wrapped around him.
“How did you know?” Mal whispered.
Alex kissed Mal's neck. “Alice told me.”
Mal arched his eyebrow, even though he knew Alex couldn't see. “Alice?”
“She said you looked at me like her mum and dad looked at each other.” He replied quietly.
Mal tipped Alex's head up, kissing him softly. “She was right.”
“I know.” Came Alex's quick reply.
Part Two
Pairing: Alex Carver/Malcolm Rudolph
Rating: R
Disclaimer: This is not real, this never happened. I don't know them and this is all fiction. Made up stuff.
Author's Notes: Minor character death, some violence (zombies, after all). Part of the cyclists + zombies AU. For apocabigbang.
Mix, Watched It Burn Together, by fangie_yin
Mix (tracklist) by fangie_yin
Some people call it the year of the unspeakable, though it's been over a year and it's not nearly over. Others call it the end of the world. Alex calls it the time he was forced to grow up and give up everything he loved. Mal calls it hell and tries to pretend it didn't happen. They don't talk about what happened when they were stuck in an airport in Switzerland, at least not often. They don't talk about the fighting, or the fact they watched people die (that they killed people). Neither of them talk about their teammates who didn’t survive. Sometimes Alex has nightmares; the doctors call it post-traumatic stress, but he calls it survivor's guilt. Mal never admits he has the nightmares, but Alex knows he does.
Before their long year in Switzerland, Alex and Mal were just friends (and sometimes roommates). There was nothing deeper between them but their sport, and sometimes their taste in music. Alex wasn't prepared for what happened, but he could take comfort in the fact that Mal wasn't either. It started innocently enough, a disease that wouldn't spread beyond the closed borders of South America. Of North America. Of England. They sat in their hotel, packing to go home after too much time in Europe. Tour de France on the TV, cheering for compatriots while they followed the race on Mal's iPhone. At the airport, their bikes being loaded onto the plane. Boarding and then delays. One after another, flights canceled. Then the military locked down the airport and they were stuck.
At first they could call home, use the internet, contact the outside world. But after a few days, that passed in a blur, even those failed, too. Occasionally, if Mal sat in the corner, near the front of the terminal, he could get a signal from one of the last working cell towers, but he couldn't make any calls. It was on Mal's iPhone that both he and Alex discovered the news. It was then on the TVs scattered around the terminals that they watched the world, as they knew it, fall apart. It was out the windows of the airport that they watched the zombies descend on them. The tarmacs were clear of the zombies, because the airport was surrounded by fences, but the parking garage, the roads in front of the airport, the sidewalks outside the main terminal, were flooded with zombies.
“How long d'you think we'll be here?” The voice cuts through Alex's thoughts. He turns, looking at the little girl who's practically become family. He squats down so he can look her in the eye.
“I don't know, Alice. But hopefully someone will rescue us soon.” He glances up at the old man sitting at one of the tables near an abandoned Mexican restaurant, still functioning, at least for now. He shakes his head at Alex, it's been almost two months already and there's been no contact from the outside world, aside from the still-running news channels.
Alice sighs, and then turns when she hears her name. A boy, about her age, named Jack, calls out to her. They run off to play in the children's area, which is thankfully in the main safe zone of the airport. Alex stands and walks toward the windows. The old man pushes up off his chair and follows. They stand, looking out over the airport. They can see the chain linked fences and, beyond them, the zombies, pressing against the metal, trying to get in.
“Son, you shouldn't lie to her.” He replies and Alex looks over at him.
He shrugs. “I know, but how do we tell her that her parents are dead? That we're the only ones she's got?” He doesn't know how he's managed to keep it together this long.
The old man shakes his head and Alex knows that he doesn't have a better answer either. They lapse into silence and even through the thick, probably bulletproof, glass Alex can hear the incessant and never ceasing moaning. He finally drags himself away from the windows, trying to force himself to think of something else, anything else. His mind wanders, remembering the last time he talked to his parents, still safely in Australia. To his friends, many of them probably dead, he's sure. But those at home, still alive. He thinks of his teammates and he knows they're dead. Racing in parts of Europe now overrun with zombies.
He walks past the children's area. They'd long since found paint and covered most of the windows, so the kids, though there are only a handful now, can't see out. It's not much protection, but it makes the adults feel safer. Alice and Jack wave to him and he waves back, then goes in search of Mal. He knows where his friend will be, alone in their alcove, near where their plane still sits on the tarmac. Destined never to take them home.
A month ago, the airport was teaming with people. The news of the disease slowly trickling in until all flights were canceled. He could've left, he almost did. There were people claiming that the disease wasn't actually here, just other parts of Europe. Or that you could get flights out of Denmark or Holland, or even Germany. But in the end, he'd opted to stay because Mal wasn't going to leave. Alex couldn't stand the thought of leaving his friend, his roommate, alone in the airport. But he was also embarrassingly scared and if Mal wanted to stay, then Alex was going to stay.
It turned out, they discovered a few days later, that it was good they stayed. The people who'd left were dead, out in the garage, on the roads, beyond those fences. The remaining people, maybe 200 or so, though Alex couldn't be sure, were the only ones alive. One of pilots, who'd stayed, had made contact with the military, or whoever was in charge, and they were promised a rescue. Of course, that had been weeks ago, right after the airport closed completely.
Alex sees Mal, sprawled out on several of the chairs, reading month old copy of L'Équipe. Alex sits on the floor, head resting against Mal's leg. They don't really talk, not that they had serious conversations before, but they barely speak to each other. Alex thinks it's because they're both scared that if they speak, it'll mean this is real. But Alex isn't stupid, he knows it's real. He's just irrationally scared that Mal will leave him.
He closes his eyes, head tipped back and resting comfortably against Mal. He must've drifted off, because when he wakes up, the sun's setting. He feels Mal's fingers in his hair, stroking it, almost calmly. He turns, though not enough to disturb Mal's hand. Mal looks older, tired and worn out. Alex knows he must look the same. He shifts slightly when Mal pulls his hand back.
“Mal ...” Alex starts, because he can't remember the last time he said Mal's name.
Mal doesn't say anything, just shifts, sitting up a little, holding Alex's gaze.
“I'm scared.” Alex's voice is a soft whisper, words slipping into the oncoming darkness.
Mal shifts, sliding off the seats and onto the floor. “Me too.” He replies and Alex feels relief flood through him.
“Why don't we talk?” He asks, before he can think better of it.
Mal shrugs. “I thought you didn't want to.”
Alex can't help laughing, just a little. “I thought you didn't want to.”
Mal smiles and Alex thinks it's the first smile he's seen on Mal's face for weeks. “I wanted to. I thought … You talk to everyone but me.”
“I'm sorry, I … Fuck, Mal. I'm sorry, mate.” Alex stumbles over his words, feeling like an idiot.
Mal shakes his head. “No, stop. It's fine.”
He holds Mal's gaze for a long time, then too long because his cheeks start to flush and he has to turn away. It's nearly dark and they'll have to pull their makeshift shades down and go find food. But Alex doesn't want to move, so he just stays there, feeling the warmth of Mal's body next to his, even though they aren't even touching.
It takes Mal another month before he figures out that Alex probably has a crush on him and that he's pretty sure he has one on Alex. He thinks, but doesn't care, that it's probably because they're stuck here together. But that doesn't explain why Alex always brushes off the girls from Gate C, or the boy from Gate D. Though he understands about the kind of creepy dude from Gate F. They spend most of their time with each other, and Alice, Jack and George, the old man who turned out to be Alice's grandfather. All five of them live in Gate J, which is now their home.
They created tents out of tarp from the construction sites that they raided before the zombies penetrated into those areas. They don’t need the tents, but it’s nice pretend to have a little privacy. They raided the planes next, taking food and blankets, pillows and whatever else they could find. Who knew that seat cushions could be strapped together to make beds. It was Alex who had the idea that they could go through people's luggage. It made Mal squirm, but he imagined that Alex was right when he assumed that everyone with unclaimed luggage was probably dead, or assumed their items were lost.
While they were digging through the luggage - only during the day, of course - Alex found their stuff. Suitcases and bikes, their cycling kits. It took Mal exactly a week to convince Alex that they should be riding. And so they did. For fun, through the abandoned sections of the airport, out on the tarmac. But also to help. They rigged up carts, carrying heavy items across the buildings, giving rides to the children, and patrolling the fences.
Frank, from Gate A, turned out to be a US Marshall on vacation. He had his gun, which was in his suitcase and he found several others and taught everyone over 17 how to shoot. Alex turned out to be a superb shot, Mal couldn't do it without his hands shaking. Even when Alex pulled off that move from the beginning of that horrible BBC show, Torchwood, where he stood behind Mal, arms around him as he tried to show him the right way to shoot. His hands shook even more, though not out of fear.
They'd only had to kill 11 zombies so far and eventually Mal was trusted with a pistol. Alex got a shotgun. And Hunter, the boy who liked Alex, but not enough to make any moves after he was turned down the first time, made up their three man patrol team. They walked, biked and ran along the perimeter, making sure there were no holes in the fence, no ways zombies could get it. Mostly it was easy work, because the zombies, though strong, weren't smart enough to rip through the fences. Alex and Hunter were concerned that so many would gather that the fences would collapse. But Mal assumed that by that time, they'd probably be dead from starvation. The subject didn't come up again.
It was a few days after Mal had his revelation about his feelings for Alex (and Alex's feelings for him) but he hadn't said anything, when the second breach occurred. He and Alex were on their bikes, heading toward the south gate, the one they'd all agreed would be the weakest point. Except the zombie that almost bit Alex wasn't coming from the south. It was coming from the east, not a weak point according to their maps. Mal shot it without thinking, the panic of losing Alex almost outweighing his common sense. By the time Hunter returned with reinforcements, Alex and Mal had taken down at least eight by themselves. Frank had shot the last one, and then one more where they found the breach. They spent the rest of the day patching the hole.
When Andre didn't show up for dinner or role call, no one discussed the fact that he'd probably tried to escape. He wasn't the first and Mal tried not to think about the others. He hadn't killed them, neither had Alex, but Frank had. One of them even before she'd had a chance to turn. Even thinking about it now made Mal sick. By the time they got back to the airport, it was past lunch and everyone was worried. Alex's face was pale and Mal did the only thing he could think of, he reached out and grabbed Alex's hand and hadn't let go until they were safely back in their little tent at Gate J.
“Mal?” Alex's voice was soft and frightened.
“Yeah?” He looked over at Alex, worry spreading through him.
“Thanks.”
“For?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Saving my life.” Alex looked so young, even though he wasn't, not anymore.
Mal crawled across the floor of their makeshift tent and wrapped his arms around Alex. “I can't do this without you.” He whispered, relieved when Alex sank into his arms.
“Me either.” Came the muffled reply.
That was the first time they shoved their airplane seat cushion beds together, to make one big bed. Mal slept better than he had in weeks. And the next morning, he could tell Alex had, too.
Sometimes Alex finds it hard to reconcile the fact that the world he lives in is different from the future he'd hope to have. He'll ride his bike for hours along the concourses, not stopping. His iPod always going, no longer able to be updated, but charged, because they somehow still have electricity. He pretends that he's training, that when he opens his eyes, he'll be on the open road and in a race. But every day is the same. Sleep, patrolling, breakfast, free time, lunch, free time and assigned chores, dinner, patrolling or free time, and then sleep. Nothing changes.
Except for the days the zombies get in and that time he almost died. He has nightmares for a week and wakes up every morning with his face pressed against Mal's chest. He knows he's clinging to Mal in his sleep, he knows that Mal's worried, but they don't talk about it. They do talk about everything else, but they don't talk about how Alex almost died. How Mal saved his life.
By the time November rolls around, they've begun rationing everything, though it's not strictly necessary yet. If the electricity goes, there are plenty of blankets and clothes to go around, but none of their group are prepared for winter, not really. There's talk of trying to make trips into the nearby city for food, but there's no guarantee that someone can leave, forage and then come back alive. They've all seen the news footage, broadcast once a day, at noon local time. Exposure to the zombies is fatal and it's best to die before you've turned. It makes Alex shudder and he can see the fear on Mal's face.
His brush with death makes him hyper-aware, but not reckless. He knows Frank was worried, because they'd had a talk, just the two of them.
“Alex, are you sure you're all right?” Frank had said quietly, once he pried Alex away from Mal.
“Yeah. I mean, I was almost killed by a zombie, right? But I wasn't and so I'm alive, which is good.” He'd mumbled the words out, not sure he believed them anymore than Frank did.
Frank smiled slightly and went on, his voice gruff. “You're not going to go out there on your own, are you?”
Alex looked a bit shocked. “No, mate. I don't want to turn into one of those. I don't want ...” He stopped.
Frank looked at him expectantly. “You don't want?” He asked and there was a bemused look on his face.
“I don't want to leave Mal alone.” Alex replied, looking at the floor, at his hands.
He felt Frank's hand on his shoulder and looked up at him. Frank was smiling properly now, like a proud dad.
“You're a good kid, Alex. You and Mal. Your parents should be proud of you.” He replied, then walked off, apparently satisfied that Alex wasn't going to go all Resident Evil after all.
That's how Mal found him, a few hours later. There was panic on his face and Alex had just slid his hand into Mal's and promised he was fine, that he wasn't going anywhere. Mal had looked relieved, but he made Alex promise not to run off again, at least not without telling him. Alex made Mal promise the same and for a moment their fears hung in the air between them.
That was almost a month ago and now it's halfway through November and getting colder. They never moved their beds back and Alex thinks that something's going on between him and Mal and they just don't (won't?) talk about it. He crawls into bed, curling up against Mal's side and they both sleep, deep and hard. As if comforted by each other's presence.
Alex doesn't question it and tries not to think too much about it. He doesn't know if he can handle being gay, after all he likes girls well enough. There's even a girl back in Australia who he kind of wanted to date. Except all he thinks about these days is Mal. Mal's fingers in his hair, Mal's arms around him when he's having nightmares, Mal's hand in his. Hunter had tried, earlier, but Alex just wasn't interested. He thought maybe it'd be fun, you know, to kiss a bloke. But Hunter wasn't looking for fun, at least not Alex's kind of fun. And the girls, well, they just wanted a boy to fuss over them and Alex wasn't the type. Especially now when he was the one everyone was fussing over.
If he was honest with himself, and he tried not to be, the person he really wanted was Mal. Even before all this bullshit about zombies and the end of the world. He'd just pretended he hadn't, because he was a bloke and Mal was a bloke and you're not allowed to have crushes on guys when you're in a sport that some of your friends call gay (which it's not, you'll always insist). Just because you wear those skin suit kits and like doing the madison doesn't mean that you like boys, too. Except, Alex finally realized, maybe it was true, at least about him.
He was having this internal debate when Alice found him. She looked up at him with her big, beautiful brown eyes and he sat down on the floor. His back was to the window and he was grateful when she crawled onto his lap, looking away from the windows.
“Did you and Mal have a fight?” She asked in her lovely, French-accented English.
He shook his head. “No, why?”
“Because you look angry.” She replied, cuddling in his arms.
Alex couldn't help but smile a little. “I'm not mad at him, just myself.”
“Why?” Alice asked, all innocence.
“Because I have something to tell him and I don't know how.” He said and as the words tumbled out, he knew that was the truth.
Alice turned and looked him right in the eye. “Are you going to tell Mal you love him? Because he loves you.” She replied and Alex could only stare at her.
“How do you know that?”
Alice laughed, a sound he knew they all missed hearing. “Because he looks at you like my mommy looks at my daddy.” She replied, then stood up and skipped away.
He watched her go, wishing he could be that innocent. But also trying to process what she'd said. How did this nine year old girl know how Mal looked at him? How could she know? He didn't have time to ponder because suddenly the breach alarms were going off and he was sprinting across the concourse, grabbing his guns and following the shouted instructions.
The breach came from inside the building. The second floor of the airport had been secured and while no one lived there, just as with the basement level, it was frequently patrolled. The problem was no one realized the carpark across the street (which was five levels) had a connecting bridge that led to an elevator and stairs and thus the doors weren't locked or blocked. Which was how the zombies got it. By the time Alex arrived, Mal was already knee deep in dead zombies. They all were.
Mal pulled back, far enough away to explain the situation to Alex. They stood behind the line of fire, trying to figure out what to do. Mal was breathing hard, sweating and he felt tired. Alex looked like he was heading into shock, but then Mal watched as he shook his head, the look of shock replaced by a fierce look of what Mal could only term as fight mixed with fear. He knew it well.
“We have to block the entrance.” Alex hissed.
Mal shook his head. “I know, but they keep coming.”
Alex balled his hand into a fist and Mal wanted to grab it, to pull Alex away so they could hide and live, though that wasn't an option.
“We need … We need something, like a bomb or whatever. To throw in the hallway.” Alex's eyes glinted as if he had an idea.
“Do you know how to make a bomb?” Mal asked.
“No, but. There's a supply closet up here. We haven't, I mean. We've basically ignored this area, right?”
Mal could only nod.
“There are bunch of cleaning products. Some of them have got to be flammable.”
Mal was suddenly catching on. “Go, go. I'll tell Frank.”
It took them almost thirty minutes before they found something that would work. With a little help from Hunter, they managed to create something close to a bomb. There was a brief argument about who would go, but it was Alex who won. He felt bad for getting there so late into the fight and there wasn't any way Mal could convince him to let someone else go.
They got ready, Hunter and Mal, along with a few others, next to some heavy furniture that would block the door once they were able to shut it. Alex looked at Mal and held his gaze and Mal wanted to tell him how much he loved him, but he didn't say anything. He just nodded and then Alex was running, through the mess of zombies, most of them dead or dying, but still dangerous. Mal couldn't stop watching and promised that if they escaped from this alive, he wouldn't let Alex out of his sight. And if Alex came back to him now, he'd tell him the truth. He heard the fire before he saw the zombies start to fall. It wasn't killing them, not really, but it slowed them enough that Alex was able to get a lot of shots off. Then the door was closing and Mal flew into action.
It took them an hour to kill the remaining zombies and lock the door down. Clean up took another hour and then, though it was nearly dinner time, Frank made them go through the buildings, checking all the doors. It was a good thing, Mal though, because they ended up finding a few doors that could've lead to breaches. He was still shaking by the time they all met up for dinner. No one spoke, but it was clear everyone was glad to be alive. Alex was the hero, but he didn't seem to notice. He just sat as close to Mal as possible, and Mal wasn't going to complain about that.
Afterward, when they'd finally made their way back to Gate J, they were alone. George had taken Alice and Jack to the children's play area to watch a film on someone's laptop, leaving Mal and Alex to themselves. It was dark, there were no lights, not like the first month. They all had batteries for flashlights and one of the long-abandoned stores had sold scented candles, so each gate was given a ration, but neither Mal nor Alex had used theirs.
“Alex?” Mal said, glancing over to his friend, standing in front of the window. Even in the dark, he could make out the shapes of the zombies. He could hear them even when it was quiet, especially then.
Alex turned and looked at Mal.
“Are you okay?” It wasn't the first time he'd asked that question.
Alex shook his head and Mal knew how he felt. He walked over to Alex, hands deep in his pockets. He was scared, that Alex would die, that he would die. That they'd never be able to leave this airport. But he didn't want to be alone and he wasn't alone, not when he had Alex. Mal stepped in closer, pulling his hands free, and then pulled Alex into a hug.
“Mal ...” Alex started, then pressed his face against Mal's neck.
“Alex, you know that I love you.” Mal whispered the words into the almost-silence.
Alex pulled back a little and then he kissed Mal. It was hot and hard, fierce and too intense for Mal to handle, but he didn't break the kiss. He shifted, pushing Alex back, against the window, kissing him harder. He felt Alex's hands along his arms, then down, against his hips. He pressed their bodies together, kissing him harder.
“I love you, Mal.” Alex replied, breathless against Mal's mouth.
Later, tucked into bed after almost an hour of standing in front of the window and doing nothing but kissing and forgetting how to breathe, they talked. Though they were wearing several layers to keep warm, Mal felt like they were wearing nothing at all. Alex rested his head against Mal's shoulder, with Mal's arms wrapped around him.
“How did you know?” Mal whispered.
Alex kissed Mal's neck. “Alice told me.”
Mal arched his eyebrow, even though he knew Alex couldn't see. “Alice?”
“She said you looked at me like her mum and dad looked at each other.” He replied quietly.
Mal tipped Alex's head up, kissing him softly. “She was right.”
“I know.” Came Alex's quick reply.
Part Two