After the Storm (6)
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The reporters are curious as to what brought them out here, what could possibly be in the middle of New Mexico. It must be important for 19 Entertainment to pull out so many favors. Their surprise as they pull up to what looks like a prison camp is mild, but when Adam Lambert answers the gate, nods, and welcomes them in, they know they are in for something special.
He apologizes for the lack of people, but says yesterday was a bad day, so it was just the tour guides for right now. Seeing familiar faces once more, the reporters begin to buzz, to ask questions. Adam quiets them, tells them any questions will be answered, but for right now, the tour was starting. Each group of reporters would get two guides.
Not really understanding what was going on, finding out what had really happened here, the reporters realized that not only were they involved in the most sensational entertainment story of the year, but also one of the biggest government cover-ups in the history of their nation…
Adam sighed as he watched the strangers wander the camp. It had been three days of tours, interviews, more interviews. A lawyer had met with them, laying out the process for beginning to go back to real life. They were rich apparently. After their death, 19 had released unrecorded material plus a concert DVD that had sold beyond millions. The money had been given to their legal heirs. And now, the government had issued a declaration, saying the Secretary of the Army was coming to see them.
As was with the end of anything, Adam felt a sense of bittersweet relief. He didn’t know what was coming next, but this, this was over. He looked at Kris, unsure of how he felt about how that was developing, unsure that it was wise to let it go on. He also knew their families were coming, and Adam promised himself that no matter what, if Kris changed his mind, if he and Katy could work it out, then Adam was going to step away.
“Mr. Lambert?”
Adam looked up at the reporter. “Sorry, I was woolgathering for a minute. What was your question again?”
List of Demands as given by the campers of Area 51
1. All records of all occurrences in Area 51 will be made public
2. All guards, doctors and other officials involved in Project Storm will be tried accordingly
3. Project Storm will be effectively terminated
4. All refugees will be given the opportunity to rejoin society in the way they wish, whether through Witness Protection, asylum, or other means
5. Area 51 and its subsidiary camps will be destroyed.
Adam grinned at his brother. “Well, you know, I’m thinking of keeping the ponytail. I kind of like it.”
“I guess if it makes you happy.”
Adam shrugged. The camp was overfull; families either standing awkwardly or warmly laughing. Watching Michael and Megan hold their children had made him cry, seeing Kris holding Katy’s hand, both of their faces a mix of love and regret had wrecked his heart. He wanted to know, wanted everyone to be happy. But they had all known that this was hard to accept, had all known that everything couldn’t be perfect. Then again, seeing Sissy being hugged warmly by Allison’s mom, knowing she had somewhere to go, made hope a little easier to find.
When Kris walked up to him later, his step heavy, his whole body barely moving, Adam knew.
“She said she didn’t know what to think, said she had accepted it. Said she had seen the coverage, asked me if she should keep watching, because it terrified her. She wasn’t sure she could go through that much pain again. Said maybe it was better… maybe it was better if we both moved on.”
“Kris… isn’t that what you wanted?”
Kris shrugged. “The only problem with making all the stuff public is the tabloids, you know?”
Adam thought for a minute, and then realized what that meant. “She knows.”
Kris nodded. “She said she understood, said that she had gone a date, and said she felt kind of guilty about it, until she realized that I had known that she was going to move on, that I had accepted things were different. She said she was glad I hadn’t been alone. Said she was calling you later…”
Adam nodded. “I think your parents want to talk to you again.”
Kris sighed, walked over. Adam knew it was going to be a hard day for everyone. Even those whose families had accepted them back would need time. It couldn’t go back to before. But maybe after could be a good thing, maybe after was different, but it was certainly better than camp, better than the endless days of sun and dust and pain. And then he saw her.
“Mrs. MacIntyre.”
She looked at him. “Adam.”
“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”
“I had to come get my boys, now didn’t I?”
Adam nodded, sat with her. “Scotty….Scotty.”
“I heard you were with him at the end.”
“I was.”
“They told me you helped him die peacefully.”
Adam swallowed. “I tried.”
“I haven’t seen the records yet. Will you tell me what happened?”
“Scotty…I guess he inherited some sort of enhanced vision. Possibly long distance, possibly X-Ray. I’m not sure. He could see. The doctors experimented too far. Blinded him again. At least in the one eye for sure. The other worked intermittently. When they were going to move us, they were going to kill him. He wasn’t useful anymore. I’m not going to lie Mrs. Mac; he wasn’t always the Scotty you knew here. He had good days. But that last day was not one of them. I’m sorry.”
She patted his hand. “It’s okay. It’s good to know all of you tried to help him, tried to save him.”
“Not hard enough. And you will hear that from every one of us.”
Watching her walk the camp, touching everything as her son would have, was one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life. Watching as people began to leave over the next two weeks was harder. Allison promised to come visit, and swore she would bring Sissy too. Anoop and Megan and Ryder said their goodbyes quietly, leaving early in the morning without fuss. Danny walked out of camp on his way to Africa, Joey stalking him with an intent expression on her face. If she didn’t have him thinking straight within the first month, Adam was sure it would be soon. Michael went off with his wife and kids, a big grin on his face. Everyone promised they would be back for Scotty’s memorial.
Adam, Kris and Matty were the last three at camp. The guards had been taken away; the reporters had left long ago. It was just them and the new commander of Project Storm. General Agen. It was quiet as they walked out of the front gate.
“So where are you off to?”
Adam looked at Matt, then Kris. “We’re, uh, actually headed to Base Two. Some of the children won’t talk at all. Between the two of us, maybe we can do some good. After that…”
“Don’t know,” Kris shrugged. “What about you Matt?”
Matt grinned. “Vegas baby. Where else?”
Adam laughed. Of all of them, Matt was the one who would walk toward the cameras instead of away. “So I guess this is it, huh?”
Matt nodded, shook both their hands, gave them a quick hug. "See ya, man. Good luck.”
Adam nodded, watched as the buildings began to burn, got into the jeep with Kris. As they drove away, towards the distant mountains, he glanced back at the orange glow. He felt Kris’ hand slip into his.
“Too bad. I would have liked to vacation there.”
He turned to Kris, who had a faint smile on his face, who was giggling. He began to laugh, the weight of the past finally lifted, the realization he was moving on began to hit him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Music was probably out: who wanted to come to a concert from someone who could control you with their voice? He watched Kris, who was staring out the window. He wasn’t sure if that was his future either: if it was the right future. He shrugged, closed his eyes and slept.
“And on a final note, today marked the departure of the last of the refugees from a government program known as Project Storm. While the future of many of these refugees has been hidden by request, and the trials of those involved yet to begin, questions still remain. What happens next? As scientists begin to question the ethical versus necessary, one has to wonder if the refugees had not been successful in escaping, would we have ever known the truth? Furthermore, if it becomes a question of genetics, do we have a right to know? Or do the refugees have a right to privacy? As time passes, maybe we will get answers. One thing is certain, we have changed, and how we react to those changes will define us in ways we cannot imagine. I’m Katie Couric, and I’ll see you tomorrow.
Kris barely believed it. There were eighty children total at Base Two. Of those eighty, forty-three had families there. The others… the others had been abandoned, or their parents had been killed. Either way, they were alone. If he had thought he was tired and angry before, he had been wrong. While the children had been treated well, they were confused, sad. They hadn’t been loved, only cared for. For those whose families had returned and stayed, it was easier. For those who were alone… Kris sat holding Kay, barely five, who wouldn’t speak to anyone. Except the funny Mr. Allen, who talked in her head and made pretty pictures there.
“Kay, it’s getting cold again.”
“Sorry. Forgot.”
“It’s okay.”
Kay had to have extra of everything, her habit of accidentally freezing and breaking all too familiar. According to the records, she had stopped asking for her parents after two weeks, had stopped speaking after three. Every time she had broken something, they had taken something else away. She had been isolated. Kris clenched his jaw. They had tried to train a five year old like a soldier.
“Mr. Allen, why are you making that face? It’s kinda scary.”
Kris forced himself to take a breath. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else. How about we go get some lunch? I’m hungry.”
Kris had already decided the first day here what he wanted to do. He knew he couldn’t go back to the music, not professionally. The thought of trying to filter thousands of people frightened him a little. But here, here he could do some good. He hadn’t quite figured out the details, but he at least had the groundwork laid out. He hadn’t asked Adam yet, was afraid to ask him to stay. He wanted to hope, but he had only relearned how in the last three weeks. He couldn’t quite trust it just yet.
Add into that that Adam was the one who kept himself apart, Adam was the one who wanted time, and Kris held himself back. He liked most of the people who had come here, and since there was no dust to speak of, the surroundings were great. If he looked out his window and squinted really hard, he thought he could point to Area 51. Maybe.
Adam asked him if he was going home after this. Kris didn’t know where home was. Arkansas seemed like a memory of a movie. LA seemed like a dream. The cabin, the bunker, a nightmare. Here. Even here felt temporary. It seemed the only plan that felt right was when he sneaked out of his room at night and lay next to Adam, holding him close, trying to block out the lonely dreams that chased him, laying his head against Adam’s back, kissing gently the scars that were there, the ones that weren’t.
He spent many days talking with the doctors, discussing his idea, an idea he had actually gotten from Matt and Michael and their endless debates in camp. He smiled at the thought of what he was doing. It was when the doctors mentioned genetics he realized that maybe there was a future here.
“Wait a minute; they really think we could pass this on? For sure?”
Kris looked at Adam. “Yeah.”
“Okay, why is that important? Is it whatever you’ve been holed up and planning?”
Kris nodded. “Yeah.”
“And now you’ve decided to share?”
Kris sighed at Adam’s tone. He had every right to be a little angry, but every time Kris tried to move forward, Adam backed away. He hadn’t said as much, but Kris knew Adam was trying to give him space, trying to separate what was between them and what had happened at the camp.
“Yes. I’m staying. Here that is. I mean, half these kids have nowhere to go. I have more money than I could possibly dream of, thanks to the shamelessness of 19, and I have nowhere else to go. I was thinking maybe of setting up a school for these kids, you know, maybe for all the kids, even possibly the future kids… you know?”
Adam looked at him. “That’s pretty ambitious.”
“Well you know me; I’ve turned into Mr. Big Plans.”
“Why tell me now?”
“Because we leave for Arizona in a week. Because every day you seem to walk that much further away. Because I want you to stay.”
“Kris.”
He watches Adam struggle for words, refuses to peek, to try to read him before he can say it aloud.
“Kris, I want to say yes. But a year from now, I don’t want you to begin to look at me and wonder. I want this to be completely real. Add in that technically you are still married- it’s just too sticky. Ask me again a year. When you’ve really had time. I’m sorry. I need time too. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but I’m going to LA for the week-maybe longer. I don’t know.”
Kris watched him walk away. He wanted to tell him everything in his heart, to tell him that he didn’t need a year to know anything. But he also knew that the time was for Adam as well, that Adam needed time to believe. He turned down the hall, returned to work.
“June 18th, 2010. Today, the mourners have gathered in Scottsdale, Arizona to mourn the passing of brothers Scott and Todd MacIntyre. This is actually the second memorial, the first being after their deaths were announced last fall. However, this time it is real. We were not allowed inside, but reports have it that all of Scott’s fellow cast mates came today, although some were heavily disguised. Reports also say that there was not a dry eye in the house as videos played, choirs sang and friends and family spoke. In a statement released by the MacIntyre family, Mrs. MacIntyre was quoted as such: We would like to express our thanks for everyone’s love and support. Scott and Todd were only two of over two hundred who died, only two more numbers. Thankfully justice is being served, and we can finally move on. I want to thank all of those who knew them during that time that could come out, for sharing what they could of my boys with me. Thank you.
In another continuing development, today also marked the official annulment of Kris Allen’s marriage. He has not released a statement, and Katy Allen could not be reached for comment at this time. It seems that the story can and will continue. This is Ann Curry. I’m sending it back to you, Matt, Meredith."
Adam sat in the back of the room, his chocolate cake untouched. He didn’t want to be here. All it did was bring back the image of Scotty lying in his arms, of Scotty slipping away. All it did was remind him he was choosing to be alone, choosing once more to isolate himself.
Sure, it seemed like their story had a happy ending, that there was hope. But it didn’t change that after wasn’t so happily ever. He couldn’t look at Kris, couldn’t be near him. He wanted to say yes, wanted to be a part of what Kris was doing, but he couldn’t. He had needed the space, needed to reevaluate. He had gone to LA, but he didn’t belong there. He didn’t belong anywhere anymore. The only place that felt right was Kris, and even then…
Adam wanted it to be right, wanted it to be true, but he also knew what Kris had been through. Right now, he was attached to Adam, but Adam wondered if that was temporary, if it was the circumstances rather than reality. He had stepped away for that very reason. And when Kris had stayed away he knew he was right. Until he had turned on the TV. At first he had wanted to try to see if he could return to normal, but one night at a club, even disguised reminded he was no longer that person. So he turned on the TV. Depending on the channel, he could watch any part of his experience. The first day he had watched tapes from the quarantine, the one set up not to prevent the spread of the swine flu, but the one intended to catch victims of Project Storm. Scenes of suburbia, men in biohazard suits, tents, crying children… He flipped. The trials, Dr. Campbell’s smarmy face full of conviction. Flip. Oh god, the bunker. Flip. TMZ showing Anoop and Megan, then him and Kris. Adam almost flipped, until something caught his eye. It was the two of them, during one of the last interviews, and Adam had been saying something, and the camera had found Kris in he background, watching. The look in his eye, the love, the desire, the complete devotion…Adam had swallowed the message in those eyes loud and clear. So he had been wrong. Maybe Kris had felt something from the beginning, maybe it was real. Adam stood up, stalked into the kitchen. Well, guess he had fucked it up again.
“Adam?”
“What? Don’t ask me again, you know the answer.”
Kris stepped back, a frown on his face. Good. Maybe if he pissed him off enough, Adam could feel something besides the constant ache.
“You know, if you weren’t such an idiot, maybe we wouldn’t be having this discussion at all.”
“What?”
“Look, I was going to give you time to think about it, but even without reading you, I know I’ve given you too much time already.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You think that all of my feelings are tied up in what happened to us and that’s bull.”
Adam stared, too hopeful to speak.
“Do you want to hear how I feel?”
Adam nodded. “Maybe. Depends.”
Kris grinned, took his hand. “The last week, I slept like shit. The kids missed Mr. Adam and his endless stories. I missed seeing your smile. I missed having you nag at me for wearing the same damn plaid shirt for the third day in a row. Last night I watched you sleep so I could count your freckles for the thousandth time. When somebody asks me about love, I think of you. I’ve lived in a house, an apartment, a mansion and a cabin, and it feels the most right when you are there. Of all the people in this world, normal and not, you are the only one who understands me. Completely. Last night I couldn’t sleep. When you’re there I can. Remember that song? You are the nights I call home.”
Adam tried to burble something out, his face streaming. Let me try something he nodded as Kris took both his hands, concentrated.
And then he felt it, a wave of love, warm, golden, outlined in a crest of desire. “Was that you?”
Kris nodded.
“Is that… is that anything like, is that what you feel when I, is that…”
Kris stepped forward, kissing him, softly at first, then his mouth urgent, knocking Adam into the counter. Yes.
Adam grinned. “Well, then, I always thought teachers were kind of hot, you know?”
They laughed, Kris kissing him again, knocking over pans in the sink, everyone running in as they sat on the floor laughing, holding hands…
Excerpt from 5 Years After The Storm: A Barbara Walters Exclusive:
“So you’re saying that despite media reports to the contrary, your “school” isn’t a secret army designed to take over the world?”
The brunette laughs. “No. Despite what people think, we formed the school because these children were abandoned, and needed somewhere to go. And frankly, due to their abilities, no one would take them. So that’s that. I welcome anyone who wants to come to visit. We’re not hiding. Just don’t try to ambush us. We’re more than well equipped to take care of that. We don’t mind that you are protesting, just that you choose to resort to violence”
Barbara smiles, turns to Adam, all in black, his hair pulled back. “And I suppose that the reports that you coerced your husband into marrying you, that you have him under your complete control.”
Both men laugh, Adam reaching out for Kris’ hand, fingering the gold ring. “Trust me; there are days when I wish I could control him. Trust me; he’s the one who convinced me into this whole thing. Lucky me.”
“And you are writing music now?”
Adam nods. “Yeah, couldn’t give that up completely-was too much a part of our lives. Plus the money goes into the school, so it’s double duty.”
Barbara smiles, tilts her head, looking at Kris’s now upturned wrist. “May I ask what the significance of the tattoos are?”
Both men’s face become serious as the camera focuses. “They were our numbers. The numbers they gave us when we were forced into camp. A reminder of not so happy times,” Kris's eyes darken, until Adam nudges him, some sort of message passing between them.
“Speaking of happy times, I hear that your friend Michael Sarver was just appointed special liaison to the President.”
“Yes. After the first protests, we voted and asked for someone to bridge the gap. Mike…Mike has a family who is ‘normal’. He is not. There is no one person more qualified for the job.”
“And what about those who say you aren’t using your powers for good, for all the good you can do?”
Adam sighs, “Look, all of you have seen us help when and where we can. But the reason some of us went into hiding, the reason no one has heard from Danny in years is that we can’t do everything. We have limitations. And trust us when we say that it kills us that we can’t do more.”
“All right, on to other subjects…Matt Giraud just signed another five year contract…”
August 25th was a school holiday. Every student knew why. The wall of names at the entrance was too obvious. The remembrance speeches were another sign. Lastly, the larger group, the many refugees who had returned.
The campus was bustling with people, games and picnics spread across the grounds. Kris smiled as he sat on the edge of the impromptu bandstand, watching. Megan and Anoop had come early, announcing four year old Lilly, whenever she cried it rained, and whenever she giggled, there was a rainbow, and whenever she was hungry…. It was genetic after all. Danny kept wandering around a foolish grin on his face, fingering his wedding ring, picking up random children as if to test them out. Joey kept yelling at him, but it didn’t stop him from saying he had to practice. Mike was busy entertaining a group of kids, some of them students, some of them guests. It didn’t matter, they had no prejudices. Allison and Sissy were running around alternatively giggling then ignoring boys. Allison had gone back to the music, had roped her “sister” into coming with her, won a billion awards, and was now officially the second most famous person at the camp. Matt was grinning like a loon as he partially reenacted his Vegas show, his wife looking on exasperated. She was the last person Kris would have picked for him, but it worked.
Adam. Adam was somewhere with their son. Scott had a habit of toddling off at the most inconvenient times.
“Dadak! Dadak! Dadam chasing!”
Kris grinned as the strawberry blond toddler ran to him. “I cannot believe we let those stupid names stick.”
Adam sighed. “I don’t think I was the one who suggested them!”
“I’m not the one who had them embroidered on bibs!”
“Well, you better not get any ideas for the next baby!”
“Who says I want another one, Dadam?”
“You better since Emily’s going to be here anytime, Dadak.”
“Idiot.”
“Love you too."
Kris laughed, put his arm around Adam, and held his boy close. Every day there were people at the gates, screaming for the freaks to die, for the mountain to fall down. Kris hadn’t been down there, not since the one nightmare, the one in which he found himself with blood on his hands, all of them dead. Adam had had the final say in that. Kris had agreed. Adam was better at dealing with them, even without using his ‘voice’. His husband (and sometimes that still made Kris' head turn) the diplomat.
The dreams still came sometimes, especially when it rained, when the lights flashed, and the rolling thunder reverberated through the mountains. Sometimes, they would come when he went off the mountain, returned to the desert. Sometimes they would come for no reason at all.
Mostly, he tried to remember that after the storm came picnics and kite flying, that after the storm came love. That after the storm, he had found himself all over again, in a way he couldn’t possibly imagine. That after the storm, hope was possible.
Later that evening, they would have open mic night, dedicating it to the two hundred and fifty-six souls that should have been there. They would leave two slots open, where Lil and Scott should have been singing. At the end they would break out the old standard, everyone joining in on the chorus, and Adam would grin at him, and grab him in a kiss.
“Never used to end the concert like that.” Adam leered.
“Should have.”
“Idiot.”
Love you too.