He doesn't wake up suddenly. There's no sudden gasp of breath and a jump almost of the bed. That only happens in the movies.
No, he wakes up slowly - in fragments - pieces of glass. Trying to collect enough to remember how to be awake and stay awake. It takes time. He wakes and fall back into the black and awakens again and incrementally finds the light brighter, the dark greyer, every time. Sometimes he awakes, eyes still shut, and it feels as if half his body is still submerged beneath soft sand. Other times he rises to the surface but feels like his head can't connect to his body. Knows that he has senses – touch, smell – but can't connect them to words, places, things. It is disconcerting and terrifying but every time he slips back under – he forgets.
But finally, he breaks fully free and opens hazy, dry eyes. The world remains slightly blurry, and Kyle blinks a few times to try and add a bit more clarity to it. The room is blessedly only at half-light, and the dimness is a balm to the pounding headache that has greeted his return to consciences. The room is non-descript to the point of intention – this is not a room he knows at the hospital and that is enough to make the heart monitor next to his bed perk up even more.
A slight stirring on the other side of the bed from the monitor calms Kyle slightly though. Alex. Looking rough and ragged, arms crossed while he dozes in a chair. As Kyle watches, Alex awakens fully – and his eyes go wide at seeing Kyle staring back at him. Alex sits up straight and leans forward, hands now resting near Kyle's on the bed.
"Hey Kyle? Hey, man, are you with me for real this time?" Alex's gaze rests on Kyle's, but with a bit of apprehension. Kyle gets the sense he may have done this before.
"What is going on? Where are we?" He wants to ask more, but his voice is a screech of pained air against a dry throat and even those two questions leave him with tears in his eyes.
"Easy," Alex murmurs, standing up. "Let me grab you some water."
Alex swipes a badge to leave the room – and swipes again to reenter with a glass of water. This, more than anything, confirms to Kyle that something is afoot. Roswell Hospital security is a joke the best of times. The doctor's lockers have been on an honor system for ten years.
Alex hands the glass of water over and stays close as Kyle's hands shake slightly. He succeeds though, at getting the glass to his lips without spilling, and the water is cold against his dry mouth and throat. He drinks slowly and they sit in silence for a few minutes while he sips and tries to orient himself. An interval inventory of his body leaves him with a dizziness that makes the room swirl if he blinks too fast, and a low seeded churning in his gut from the water hitting his stomach. That tells Kyle he may have been out longer than he really is comfortable with. He finishes the cup of water and almost gracefully sets it on the tray attached to the bed.
"So," he begins, "What top secret military base have we infiltrated this time?" He stares Alex down, forcing a sarcastic tone he's hopeful will abate any concerns Alex might have about his wellbeing. Kyle is fine.
"A competing NGO to Project Sheppard aimed at understanding and learning from the Roswell crash because they believe aliens landed and live amongst us." Alex responds, monotonous.
"What?" Kyle responds, incredulous, double checking that Alex isn't smirking, or giving away any other queues that he may be joking – or at least, fudging the truth a little.
Alex only nods.
"Are you fucking serious?" Kyle leans his head back against the pillows and groans. His headache ratches up a notch and he considers passing out again in hopes next time he wakes up he's somewhere else. At this point, he'd take a barn in the desert over another military instillation trying to decode aliens.
"Easy, Kyle." Alex responds, having the gall to actually pet Kyle's hand where it rests on the bed, "Hey, they are at least less focused on dissecting aliens for spare parts. We're headed in the right direction." At that, Alex smirks just a little. Asshole.
"So are we" Kyle gestures with his head, one that he hasn't lifted back from his pillow. His head feels heavier and heavier the longer they talk, "Are we prisoners?" He asks, recognizing most prisoners wouldn't have badges. But he can already tell he not exactly going to be happy with what the answer is.
"Uhh," Alex scratches his chin, where a day's growth of stubble has formed, and then doggedly lowers his head and rushes out, "I may lead research and development here?"
A pause, and then, "Alex. Tell me everything."
Alex does not in fact, tell Kyle everything. Alex tells Kyle five more minutes of everything, starting with the reason he's in the hospital bed – an attack at Max's house and a heavy, unrecognizable sedative that effectively put him into a chemically induced coma for four days. Which...awesome. Alex starts to get into something regarding Liz researching sonar waves, and Kyle's eyes begin to droop shut without his permission. He has the stinking suspicion Alex is avoiding parts of the story. He seems to really only be emphasizing and going into great detail on the research Liz did on the sonar reduction evaluation and synthesis parameter model and watching as Kyle's eyes close again and they become even harder to reopen. He tries to glare at Alex in order to point out that he knows exactly what he is doing, but Alex only smirks and tucks the blankets in.
"Not cool Manes," Kyle whispers, eyes shifting shut and not reopening, "Not cool."
"I got you Valenti, sleep tight."
--
The next time Kyle wakes, some intermittent time has passed, but without windows in his room, he's hard pressed to track just how much. Alex is absent, and Kyle prays he's also getting some rest, but he's never put that much faith in God or his friends' abilities to take care of themselves. Himself, reluctantly, included.
He begins to look around at the machines beside the bed and trying to get a better understanding of what's being administered intravenously. He's also got a six lead attached to his chest which is interesting, and he's starting to watch his EKG, when the door opens, and a young, late 20's man enters. Brown hair, brown eyes, blue scrubs. Nondescript.
"Dr. Valenti, good afternoon. I'm one of the nurses here, Tim. How are you feeling?"
"Fine, where's Alex Manes?"
"He's discussing something with Director Ramos outside." Tim-the-nurse-at-the-top-secret-base slyly grins at Kyle, and lets the door shut behind him, "Just between you and me, Director Ramos insinuated they need to speak about something regarding work, but I think it was more to make sure Captain Manes ate something. He's barely left this room since you arrived."
Look, Kyle like, 100% recognizes that this is a strategy to get him to trust a medical caregiver whom he has no trust in, by letting him in on a secret, and a ploy to care for someone he cares about. Kyle has done the exact same thing, secret military base aside. He is smart enough not to fall for it. But also, Kyle knows the probability that Alex has eaten anything of note in the past few days is null… and if playing along means Alex will finally eat a sandwich…
"Mayo," he responds with, gulping a little at the nausea that seems to accompany the word. "Alex hates mayo, won't touch a sandwich with that on it."
Tim-the-nurse-who-thinks-he's-outplayed-Kyle raises an eyebrow in humor and nods, "We'll make sure that's in the file. But back to you, how are you feeling? Any dizziness, chills, nausea?"
"No," Look, Kyle also recognizes that doctors are the worst patients, but he doesn't need to give the secret nurse in the secret alien research facility all his ails. The chill that has settled in the base of his spine is a nuisance at best, and the nausea only appears to be rising up anytime he thinks about food. "I'm honestly ready to get out of here."
"Oh, I'm sure you are, Dr. Valenti, but you're still having some arrhythmias, and your blood pressure continues to be a little on the low side. You'll be staying for a little bit longer until we've got a better handle on what exactly you got injected with. But I can coordinate getting some food delivered, since you're not experiencing any nausea."
"Great," Kyle says, swallowing the saliva that had immediately flooded his mouth. He can play this game with this nurse, and then coordinate a jail break with Alex later.
Tim only smiles and heads out the door. Pausing as he badges out, he turns, smiles, and says, "Dr. Valenti, there's also a standing order for an antiemetic. I'll bring it back with lunch."
If Kyle was more dramatic, he would have audibly groaned. Nurses. They're the same everywhere.
--
Alex returns right after the food tray arrives. Slight assholery from Tim-the-nurse aside, it's for sure a meal intended for someone battling nausea and gastroparesis. Broths in two different forms. Jello – not even green for aliens, but blue. Mashed, unbuttered potatoes for the adventurous. The bland escapades in bland eating – and Kyle's still not sure he'll be able to do it. He pokes lacklusterly at the Jello with a spoon but makes no effort to eat. When he gets his hands on those people who injected him, he's going to have a few words. Politely.
"Yum," Alex says, sliding back into his chair. He waves at the assortment of containers on the bed tray. "Don't stop on my account."
"Alex, seriously. Not that I don't enjoy the hospitality, but what's going on here."
Alex sighs and sinks deeper into his chair. "How about you eat some of that first, and then we talk, okay?"
"Look, man," Kyle begins instead, letting himself be angry as opposed to admitting the nausea is superseding any real hunger he has, and that the headache he has been very good at ignoring isn't rearing up in intensity the longer he's awake. "My ass was handed to me by dudes in freaking green alien masks, you're apparently employed by a secret alien research facility, and oh, yeah, there's clones now. Am I missing anything else?"
"Just eat your lunch, Kyle, please," Alex swipes a hand across his face and takes a deep breath, but still doesn't offer up any more information.
"Alex, seriously," Kyle continues, throwing the spoon back down on the tray in frustration, "You better tell me what the fuck is going on, or I'm leaving. I'll get up right now, and piss of any weird ass scientists between me and the front door. And I'm in a backless gown, and that's not going to stop me. I'll show my ass to all your new friends if you don't start talking."
At that, Alex stands and begins to pace across the room.
"Kyle what do you want me to say, right, now, at this moment?" He begins, "God, you've been in a coma for four days. They considered intubating you at one point because the paralytic was so strong, and your body was reacting so adversely to it, there was fear your breathing was going to be compromised. According to Darcy, they're still concerned about your heart – and oh, they also think that's partially because of the 'outstanding physical exhaustion' your body was under previously."
"It's 2021, Alex, every doctor is physically exhausted." Kyle scoffs.
"That's not the point Kyle! God, for one moment, can you just take a beat, please, and rest? I promise you; I will get you up to speed, alright? No one is currently in any physical danger, okay – expect you." Alex says, "I'll give you the longform update, as much as I am willing to here, if you catch my drift. But I'd appreciate you potentially not dying first. Just eat the god damn Jello."
They stare at each other; Alex standing at the foot of the bed, arms on the footboard, leaning forward and making eye contact. A beat. And then another.
Kyle picks up the spoon and takes a bite of the blue-not-alien-green-Jello.
"Thank you."