Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Perhaps foolishly, Shane had always assumed that if he were to have an arch-enemy, it would be a fellow scientist. Maybe some evil microbiologist hellbent on destroying the world or something. Shane would be sympathetic to his plight, of course, but in the end he'd be sworn to take him down.

That would’ve been the ideal situation, at least. What Shane has instead is a jittery little conspiracy nut in the form of Agent Bergara, who has literally said the words, “There’s other science we don’t know about!”

Shane has spent the last two years being dragged to the Pentagon and occasionally even flown across the country to evaluate the authenticity of Bergara’s claims, and they’re always bullshit. Bergara stands there with his endless little folders full of crazy conspiracy theories and argues whenever Shane points out all of the hundreds of other things it could be other than aliens. It’s exhausting.

It has also resulted in several unprofessional arguments and trips to visit Nancy in HR. She was the one that suggested that Shane and Brent take turns whenever they get a call for a consult. It's Shane's turn when the call comes in today.

Brent makes a sympathetic face as Shane groans and starts to mentally prepare himself. Brent says, “He’s really not that bad, you know. He’s a good dude, just...a little out there.”

“Great, well if you think he’s so wonderful, you take this one then.”

“Ooh, darn, yeah, lots of work to catch up on, unfortunately. Just so busy.” Brent grins, gleefully evil, and teases, “Plus, I couldn’t possibly deprive you of the joy of seeing your bestest friend in the world.”

“My ol’ pal, Agent Bergara!” Shane rolls his eyes as he gets up from his desk. “Can’t wait to see what nonsense he’s pulled out of his ass this time.”

“Have fun,” Brent calls after him.

Shane just flips him off as he heads out.

Shane is a man of science and logic. He considers himself to be level-headed and professional. But there is something about Bergara that makes Shane feel like he’s going insane. It’s just that Bergara is always so damn sure about his stupid theories, completely committed to the most idiotic ideas he finds god knows where. It makes Shane see red. The crazy must be contagious, because more than a handful of times they’ve ended up in what some have described as screaming matches. Shane has thrown pens across the room in frustration, they’ll call each other petty names, and purposefully annoy each other.

Shane always ends up fuming for days afterwards. He can never stop thinking about Bergara’s dumb, smug face, so incredibly wrong, and yet convinced he’s right. Shane will seethe as he thinks about what a huge waste of taxpayers’ money it is to have a branch of the government looking for little Tic Tac martians boiling the ocean, and he’ll think and think and think until it all builds up. Then the next time he’s in front of Bergara again, the cycle repeats itself.

And there he is, arms crossed, watching as Shane walks down the long hallway towards the entrance of the department. He’s wearing a suit like always, as if looking more professional will back up any of his stupid theories. Just seeing him look at Shane with his eyebrows raised in clear distaste makes Shane’s brain short-circuit.

When Shane is close enough to hear, Bergara says, “I was hoping they’d send Brent.”

“It’s just you and me, baby,” Shane says, knowing how much he hates that, and yes, there it is!

Bergara scowls. “Don’t call me baby.”

Shane laughs as Bergara tightly turns and walks off. Shane follows.

Typically he takes Shane to an empty conference room to do one of his little power-point presentations that Shane then gets to tear to pieces, but not today. Shane frowns as they walk past their usual spots and instead take a left, down another hallway he’s never been in. He wonders if maybe Bergara is just doing this to throw him off balance or play some sort of weird power game. If that’s the case, then Shane won’t give him the satisfaction of even asking. He keeps his pace slow and unhurried, his long legs letting him not fall behind despite Bergara’s quick, determined strides.

Bergara finally stops in front of a plain, brown door. He gives Shane one last distrustful look before opening it and stepping inside.

Shane says flatly, “Wow,” as he looks around at the cramped...office? Closet that just got a desk and bookshelves shoved into it? There’s even a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, for god’s sake.

There’s something shiny in the middle of Bergara’s desk, but it’s not until Bergara quickly grabs it and crumples it up that Shane realizes it was supposed to be one of those tinfoil hats. Shane laughs as Bergara tosses it angrily in the trash.

He looks a little embarrassed, despite the frown he’s keeping up to try to hide it. “We have a lot of hilarious pranksters around here.”

Shane says, “It looked to be just your size,” making Bergara roll his eyes at him.

Shane grins and feels that victorious little jolt he gets from poking at Bergara, another tally mark for him in their endless battle of making each other miserable.

But Bergara doesn’t push back like normal. To Shane's disappointment, Bergara just sits down behind the desk and opens up a file. The only other chair in the room is the one a few feet next to Bergara, though there’s a bank box full of books on it. Bergara seems in no hurry to move it, so Shane places the box on the floor and scoots the chair right next to him, as close as he can.

He gives Shane an exasperated look. “You can sit on the other side.”

“But then I can't see what's inside the file.”

“You don’t – ” He stops himself. Takes a deep breath. “Fine. This is Johanna Miles’s file. She was in the Wharton State Forest in New Jersey with her boyfriend and some friends on May tenth. At twenty-two thirty-nine, she said she wanted to go on a walk, alone. That was the last time she was seen.”

“Did you make me come out here just because a girl is missing? Shouldn’t the FBI be the ones looking into that.”

“They have. There’s no body, no blood, no evidence of foul play. She just vanished. The cabin they were in has cameras on both entrances, giving everyone alibis. Her boyfriend and another friend went to look for her forty-three minutes later, but they were only gone for eleven minutes before they ran back, stating they'd seen a UFO.”

“So…” Shane makes sure he’s giving Bergara his best you’re fucking insane face. “You’re saying…she got abducted by that UFO they claimed to see?”

“Obviously. I work in the Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program, and I have her file.”

“And you just wanted me to come down here and tell you it’s a stupid theory?”

He rolls his eyes again. “I’m going to go interview the boyfriend, and Elizondo wants you to come with me.”

“Today? Are they gonna let us use the jet?”

Bergara glares at him and says, “Yes, today. And just so you know, I’m not playing your little game today.”

“So is that a no to the jet?”

“Let's go.”

The drive is three hours long, and Bergara is annoyingly silent for most of it, not rising to any of Shane’s jabs. Shane is trying his best not to yell something petulant and stupid like, Stop ignoring me!

If this is Bergara’s new strategy to annoy him, then boy oh boy is it working. The silence settles irritably under Shane’s skin. Their relationship has never been easy and certainly not pleasant, but it’s never been boring before. Shane does his best to ignore him back, but he mostly fails at it. His eyes always seem to wander back to him, taking in Bergara’s profile, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands seem to be gripping the wheel too tight. Bergara doesn’t even say anything when Shane fiddles with the radio and finds a station that exclusively plays polka music.

It feels like losing.

***

“Garrett Werner?” Bergara holds up his badge and shows it to the insanely tall guy who answers the door. He looks like he hasn’t slept in years, face pale with bruise-like circles under his eyes. “I’m Agent Bergara. This is Shane Madej.”

“Doctor Madej.”

“We spoke on the phone,” Bergara goes on, as if Shane hadn’t said anything.

“Right, yeah,” Garrett says. “Come in.”

The house is a mess. There are several stacks of mail and dirty dishes left carelessly everywhere. Almost half of the already small couch is taken up by a big pile of laundry, forcing Shane and Bergara to sit rather close together while Garrett sits in an adjacent chair.

Shane can admit that Bergara is actually really good at this part of the job, though perhaps that is also why he lets himself be swayed by all of it. Bergara’s brow is slightly furrowed in concentration as he listens to Garrett lay out the details of the case. It’s obvious he’s had to tell this story over and over again with other agents, automatically giving names and times and locations. Bergara gives little nods and hmm’s as he takes notes.

“It made no sound. I just happened to look up, and there it was. I quickly pointed up so that Eli would look too.”

Bergara says, “Can you please describe what it looked like?”

Garrett looks lost in thought, eyes slightly unfocused as he stares at a spot above Shane’s head. He runs a hand through his hair and says, “I know this is going to sound stupid, but it almost looked like in the movies. It was a disk with blueish lights around the bottom. It was pretty high up so I don’t really know what the size of it was, but it didn’t look that big.”

“How did you and your friend feel when you saw it? Were there any particular emotions you remember?”

“Scared. Shocked.” Garrett shrugs. “I couldn’t stop looking at it. It hovered over us for like, ten seconds, maybe. Then it was suddenly gone. I almost pissed myself.”

Bergara writes something down, but when Shane leans over to see, Bergara quickly moves the notebook away. He shoots Shane a warning look before turning back to Garrett. “That’s when you two ran back to the cabin?”

“Yeah. No one really believed us though and neither did the police. I know it sounds insane. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it either. Hell, if it wasn’t for Eli seeing it too, I would’ve thought that I was just hallucinating or something. But Johanna, she – she always said she thought there was life out there. She was always staring at the stars, always liked watching things with aliens in it.” Garrett looks down at this hands with such a hopeless look on his face that Shane feels bad for the poor guy.

“Can you please tell us about the people that came to see her? The week before the accident?”

Shane frowns, head quickly turning to look at Bergara. He hadn’t mentioned any other people being involved in this.

Garrett shakes his head. “It’s like I told the other officers, I really don’t know who they were. She wouldn’t really tell me anything. I came home and there was a blue van parked in the driveway that I didn’t recognize. When I went inside the house, there were five people in the living room. Um, it was two guys and three women. Johanna said that they were old friends that had dropped by but that they were leaving. She didn’t even tell me their names or introduced us. It was really weird.” His eyes fill with tears and he swallows hard. Shane looks away. “It was obvious that she was hiding something, but she seemed upset and I didn’t want to push. God, if I had just asked...” He wipes away the tears at the corners of his eyes. “But I didn't, so.”

Bergara gives him a sympathetic look before continuing, “Do you think you would be able to recognize them in a photograph?”

“I think so.”

Bergara pulls out a photograph that had been tucked in the back of his notebook and passes it to Garrett. Garrett’s eyes scan the photo carefully before he looks back at Bergara and nods. He hands back the photograph.

“That’s them.”

Shane only catches a quick look at it before Bergara puts the photo back, a blur of people sitting around a table, none of them facing the camera.

Shane stays quiet for the rest of the interview. With Garrett looking so distraught, Shane forces himself to wait until after they say their goodbyes and are once again in the safety of the car to say, “So this is a cult thing.”

Bergara shoots him a glare as he sticks the car key into the ignition. “It’s not that simple.”

“She’s probably with those people, and they staged the little event in the woods to create confusion.”

“Okay, first of all, we’re not living in the Scooby-Doo universe. How could they stage a UFO? What, you think they have some working Hollywood spaceship available to them that they can whip out?”

Shane shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe like projectors or something? It makes more sense than aliens kidnapping someone.”

“Second of all, the FBI has been tracking them. She’s not with them. When they brought them in for questioning, they insisted they knew nothing about her location but then asked whether anyone had seen a UFO.”

“Yeah, sounds to me like they definitely did have something to do with staging the UFO then.”

“They’d already left town by then, and there’s security footage of them that proves it. It wasn’t them, but they do know something.”

Shane scrunches up his face, doubtful. “I still think a cult abducting her makes more sense than aliens.”

“Good god, you're exhausting!” Bergara groans, finally breaking out of that professional mode and glaring at Shane. “Just admit it, admit that you believed him. You got all quiet in there, didn’t challenge anything Garrett said.”

“He was crying! I wasn’t going to be an asshole and tell him that she’s probably dead in a ditch or locked up in a basement somewhere.”

“So you think he’s lying then about the UFO?”

“He could be. Or he could just be wrong! Maybe they were smoking a bunch of doobies in the cabin or taking acid or something. We just don’t know.”

“Oh my god, I just – you kill every single ounce of joy in me. Why can’t you just admit that maybe someone is telling the truth?”

“He can be telling what he thinks is the truth and still be wrong. Just like you. You always think you’re right when you’re not.”

“No, you always think you’re right!” Bergara all but yells.

Finally, Shane thinks as they continue arguing as Bergara drives. He can feel his blood rushing through his veins as the argument twists around the usual things: the probability that aliens have visited Earth, conspiracy theories, and ghosts. He’s so lost in their petty argument that he’s surprised when Bergara pulls into a McDonalds.

“What are we doing here?”

“I’m starving, and we still have an hour left before we’re back in D.C.,” Bergara says, already unbuckling his seatbelt. “Stay in the car if you want – I don’t give a shit.”

Bergara’s car door slams behind him, leaving Shane to scramble to catch up.

Shane knows they probably look ridiculous, two grown men eating and fighting about the scientific validity of “spirit boxes,” but proving Bergara wrong has always taken priority over everything else. Shane is not too proud to raise his voice in a McDonalds, though he’s saved from it coming to that when they get to their usual impasse of Bergara saying, “We’re just never going to agree on this!”

“I don’t see why AATIP even bothers bringing us in if you never listen. Like for this case, why am I even here?”

Bergara pops a whole chicken nugget into his mouth and chews infuriatingly slow, taking his sweet time before swallowing and answering, “I’m going to investigate the case. I think the people that came to see her have answers that nobody at the FBI bothered to ask.”

“Still don’t see how I factor into this. You already knew I was going to tell you your alien theory is dumb.”

Bergara takes a deep breath and seems to hold it in, looking like it pains him to have to say it. “Elizondo wants someone from your department with me on it. He’s worried I’m – ”

“Batshit crazy? Yeah, I’ve been telling them that for years.”

“That I’m stretching the case, and that it’s not warranted. Look, just tell Elizondo that Garrett is credibly – which you know he is – and then Brent can come with me.”

“Brent? Why would Brent go?”

Bergara gives him a look like he’s an idiot. “Because otherwise you would have to go with me. This investigation could take weeks. We’d kill each other.”

“Brent’s busy,” Shane says, which is true. Technically. Shane is busy too, but… Look, someone has to stop Bergara, alright? And no one’s going to do it better than Shane. Really, his hands are tied here. “I’ll do it.”

***

Here’s the thing: Shane is very much aware that this is a bad idea. He knows it as he stubbornly refuses to pack a suit like he knows Bergara will wear, opting instead for breathable fabrics for the summer heat. He knows it as he calls up the head of his department to tell her he’s accompanying Agent Bergara on an investigation and gets a five second long silence on the line, followed by a confused sounding, “Well, if you’re sure about that…” He knows it when he texts Brent to tell him and gets a row of coffin emojis.

And listen, Shane did not sacrifice his twenties getting a PhD just to run around looking for imaginary aliens. He knows that. He’s currently got a pretty cushy gig where he gets to oversee experiments and develop theories, with the inconvenient catch of occasionally assisting the Pentagon when they need an expert. Bergara has been nothing but a pebble in his otherwise very comfortable shoes.

Still, he goes to bed early that night. He tosses and turns for an hour, that restless energy that Bergara always leaves behind running through him. It’s a bad idea for him to be going.

But in the secret shame drawer of Shane’s brain, he knows that he couldn’t have let Brent take his place. Bergara is Shane’s burden to bear. He’s like a light that pulls Shane in and burns him every single damn time, and yet he couldn’t say no even if he tried. Shane wants to be right there pushing every single one of his buttons, wants to be the one that gets to prove him wrong.

And so it’s with a rather embarrassing sense of excitement that he wakes up the next morning and plunges forward, ignoring every rational thought that tries to warn him.

***

Bergara picks him up early in the morning. His eyes are bright despite clearly having gotten little sleep, hands jittery on the wheel as they head for West Virginia. He always gets like this when they head off on a case. He’s insufferable enough when they’re at the Pentagon and he’s trying to convince Shane that aliens are getting up to some mischief here on Earth, but there’s a special level of excited he gets when they are out on the field.

“They’re called The Five,” Bergara says, glancing away from the road to make sure Shane is paying attention. It’s obvious that he’s trying to suppress how excited he is to be talking about this.

Shane tries to look bored as Bergara runs through their file. Andrew Ilnyckyj. Maya Murillo. Jen Ruggirello. Steven Lim. Daysha Edewi. They all grew up in different parts of the country. The only connection they can find between them is that they are all either orphans or their parents are out of the picture. Some grew up with relatives, others foster care. There is no record of them knowing each other until suddenly they pop up as a group in Arizona, as shown in a photo of them posted on a long abandoned MySpace page for Maya.

Johanna Miles was with them then.

By the same time next year, all traces of them online basically vanish. They become nomadic, going from place to place in a blue van, maintaining little to no contact with their remaining relatives. Johanna popped back onto the grid roughly three years ago in New Jersey, but the rest have continued driving across the country. She was already off living a normal life with her boyfriend when the group started to pique people’s interest online.

“There’s several theories about them,” Bergara says, giving Shane another excited glance.

“Is one of the theories that they’re aliens? Because I think we can skip that one.”

“For the hundredth time, it is my literal job to look for evidence of aliens. The government is paying me – and you – to do this.”

“Yeah, but it’s bullshit. The government wastes a lot of money on useless things. Like the food pyramid.”

“What? What does that have to do with – oh my god, we are getting off topic again. The point is that whenever there’s a UFO sighting in towns all across the U.S., The Five tend to show up like clockwork. Some people think they’re just normal alien chasers – ”

Shane scoffs. “Yeah, that’s normal.”

“Others think that maybe they’re guiding the aliens to that specific place. There’s a lot of boards and forums that try to document all of the places they go and try to find correlations. There’s a lot of anecdotes online about them too.”

“And you spend a lot of time on them, I’m guessing? Is that where my tax dollars go?”

“Yes. I specifically ask the IRS to send me all of the money collected from your taxes.”

Shane feels the corner of his mouth twitch with the urge to laugh and quickly suppressed it. “Fitting. You remember the food pyramid, though? Just a bunch of fake bullshit that the government put all over elementary schools and – ”

“Oh my god, we get it! You hate ‘The Man.’ Dr. Do-crimes Madej – we know.”

***

In what must surely be a sign of the oncoming apocalypse, they manage to get to their motel that afternoon having had only a sprinkle of petty fights the entire trip. Shane had expected much worse.

The town, from what little Shane saw as they drove through it, seems to be on the smaller side, though it has a bit of charm. The motel is also not the worst. It’s clean, which is more than he can say about the time Bergara dragged them to Florida.

They’re arguing about where to have dinner when Bergara’s phone starts ringing.

The look on his face as he sees who is calling is one Shane hasn’t ever seen before. It’s soft and open, not at all like the usual glare that Shane is used to receiving from him.

“Just pick whatever,” Bergara says as he hurries towards the door, phone still ringing in his hand.

Shane waits exactly ten seconds after the door closes to sneak over to the window and peek out from behind the curtain. Bergara’s standing in the middle of the parking lot as he talks on the phone. He kicks at some pebbles, shoulders slightly caved in. Seems like a personal call.

Brent once mentioned that Bergara’s ex-girlfriend is a well known photographer. Maybe he’s got a new girlfriend.

Who would date that whackjob? Shane thinks as he forces himself to walk away from the window.

Pizza it is then.

***

“So,” Shane says, as they’re sharing a booth in a pizzeria. “Tell me about yourself, or whatever.”

Bergara raises an unimpressed eyebrow. It’s the kind of look Shane is used to getting from him, and he doesn’t back down. He just gives him an expectant look and waits for him to break first.

“What are you doing?” Bergara says.

“I’m making small talk. We’re gonna be road buddies for weeks, right? Great time to get to know each other, share our feelings.”

“We don’t have to be friends.”

“You got a girlfriend?” When Bergara doesn’t answer, Shane tries, “Boyfriend? Special someone who keeps you up at night and that’s why you got those dark circles under your eyes?”

“I don’t sleep well,” Bergara says, annoyed.

“That can explain a lot, actually. Sleep deprivation does a lot of funny things to the brain. And now that I think about it, yeah, that time we roomed together in Wyoming you woke up me like three times from all your moving around.”

“That time it was just because you snore.”

“You were just mad that your alien steel turned out to be gallium.”

“No, you snore like a monster. I brought earplugs with me.”

“I don’t snore,” Shane says, even though he does sometimes. He takes a sip of his water and enjoys the way Bergara looks like he’s planning on murdering him in his sleep.

Bergara says, “I can just record you to prove it.”

“That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

“It’s for science.”

“And since when have you cared about science?”

Bergara looks like he’s about to bite back with another retort when they’re interrupted by the arrival of their pizza. Shane hadn’t quite realized how much they were both leaning over the table. It's not until he sits completely upright again that he notices the way his brain has that fuzzy feeling, the way it often does around Bergara.

“Thank you,” Bergara tells their waitress, offering up a smile which she gladly returns, suddenly looking flustered.

Shane’s stomach twists with annoyance. That poor girl has no idea who she’s really smiling at. If only she knew the amount of batshit theories Shane has had to listen to from this man.

Although, as much as it pains Shane to admit this, Bergara’s not exactly ugly. One might even say he’s good looking. The waitress certainly seems to think so. She’s behind the cash register now, giving him not at all subtle glances.

Bergara says, “I can’t believe you got pineapple on your half. It should be a crime.”

Shane just takes a huge bite and goes “Mmmmm!” and doesn’t admit that he mostly just got it to annoy him.

***

They spend the next two days interviewing people. Bergara must’ve spent quite a bit of time prepping for this. He’s got a list full of people, each one already spoken to on the phone and awaiting their visit. Shane doesn’t know how Bergara found them, and he refuses to ask since he thinks Bergara would probably enjoy talking about his detective work.

They talk to a restaurant manager that hired two of them, a woman who rented out her basement apartment to them, a high school teacher who had one of them help her out in her garden project, and so on and so on. They all basically say the same thing: they kept to themselves, caused no real trouble, friendly enough, but something felt strange about them. They suddenly left one day, told no one where.

As far as Shane can tell, none of the information is new, and so much of it is incredibly boring. No one in this town has gone missing. It doesn’t seem like they stole anything. No one died, no one got hurt, nothing interesting at all happened. Where’s the pizzazz? Bergara, though, acts like each detail is vital, jotting down constant notes in his notebook that Shane is not allowed to see.

Shane has only gotten to read the official electronic file that Bergara e-mailed him. It's full of dry reports from bored sounding FBI agents and a smattering of clandestinely taken photos. Is it strange that they all have black triangle tattoos on their wrists and drive around the country looking for aliens? Sure, but cults are a dime a dozen in America. Even the alien angle isn't new.Shane doesn't quite get what all the fuss is about. Aside from the possible kidnapping, they don't really seem to do much.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Shane asks as they’re walking back to their car. He feels tired and bored from having done nothing all day but listen to these interviews. “They’re not even here anymore, and these people don’t seem to know anything.”

Bergara says darkly, “They would’ve been here if Elizondo had approved this case when I first proposed it two weeks ago.”

“I just don’t know what you’re getting out of this. We don’t even know where they are, and we– ”

“Oh I know where they are,” Bergara says before getting into the driver’s seat.

Shane feels frozen for a second, a confused frown on his face, before quickly getting in on the other side. “You’ve known this whole time?”

“Yeah. Well, in a general sense. They’re making their way south right now. Haven’t settled in any town yet. I told you, the FBI is keeping an eye on them, and I have a couple of sources of my own.”

“You read their blog or something?”

That gets at least an eye roll. “No, but other people are aware of them too. I told you this already. You don’t listen.”

“I listen,” Shane counters, because he really does. That’s the problem, actually. He listens and knows just how insane most of what Bergara is saying is.

“Well if you listened,” Bergara says, turning the key to start the car, “then you’d know that they only settle in places that have recently had UFO sightings and since we haven’t been alerted of any sightings, then it looks like they’re just wandering around for now. And we can either awkwardly trail after them or use this time to try and gather up any clues we can find.”

“Hmm, I see, I see. Almost sounds logical when you put it like, ignoring the fact that we’re talking about alien sightings and kidnapping cults.”

“Is it really that hard to believe that maybe they really do know something? That maybe, just maybe, these five people – six, including Johanna – might actually have knowledge that most people don’t?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard considering that that’s exactly what crazy cults like Heaven's Gate and all of the other ones claim. And you’d know that if you could tell truth from fiction.”

“Just because I come at things with an open mind doesn’t mean that I can’t discern what the actual truth is.”

Shane scrunches up his face in mock concern and says, “I think it does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I think it does, Bergara.”

Bergara makes an exasperated sound as he puts the car in drive. “It doesn’t.”

***

“They were such lovely girls,” Mr. Jones tells them on their fourth day in town. He’s their last interview of the day, and honestly, Shane is ready to just get it over with and grab dinner. “They’d come over sometimes and have some nice little chats with me. They’re not like the other people in this town.”

“How were they different?” Bergara asks, pen poised over his notebook.

“They believed me. Simple as that. Nobody else in this town does.”

Shane narrows his eyes at Bergara, who purposefully keeps his eyes on Mr. Jones. So far every person they’ve interviewed seemed honest enough, but it looks like Bergara is hell bent on tainting this investigation.

“What did they believe you about, Mr. Jones?” Shane asks.

Bergara starts to say, “If you don’t feel comfortable answering that – ”

“No, no, I’m happy to say it. Just like I told you on the phone, I saw a UFO almost forty years ago, and then I saw it again around the end of May. The girls came over, asked me questions. They understood.”

“Oh I see,” Shane says, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch he’s sharing with Bergara.

“Did they share any personal experiences of their own?” Bergara asks, shooting Shane a dirty look before returning his attention to Mr. Jones.

“Not really. They just said they believed in aliens too, which was very heartwarming to hear. I told them what I saw – not just once in my life, but twice! The tongues of this town can wag all they want, but I know what I saw. It was just like in the movies. A flying saucer with lights.” He chuckles to himself before adding, “I thought I had walked onto the set of The Twilight Zone!”

“I’m so sorry if this is out of line,” Shane says, ignoring Bergara’s glare, “but when you saw the UFO, were you alone? What were you doing that night?”

“I was alone both times. Mighty bad luck, let me tell ya. When I came running back home, no one believed me. I do admit I had quite the fanciful imagination as child, but I wouldn’t lie about that. And I know what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t on any drugs. Never taken any drugs in my life.”

“We weren’t implying that, Mr. Jones,” Bergara quickly jumps in, giving him a genuinely kind look, like he wants to make sure that Mr. Jones is believed and not being made fun of. “I think what my...partner here was doing was just trying to make sure that we get all of the details.”

“No, I fully get it. I understand. Details are key. I read a lot of things online and certain things have been revealed to me because I ask for details.”

Bergara leans forward. “Could you please tell us about those things?”

“Well… I don’t know if you two have heard of the Mothman?”

Shane can’t help it; a giggle escapes him, and he quickly covers his mouth with his hands. “I’m sorry, sorry, I was just taken by surprise. Mothman, you say?”

“Yes.” Mr. Jones nods, completely serious. “He and Bigfoot are part of the same league. They’re in it together.”

“Yes they are,” Shane says and resists the urge to laugh again as Bergara brings a hand up to his face and rubs at his temples.

***

“I liked that guy,” Shane says before taking a sip of water.

They’re at the same little restaurant that they’ve been eating dinner in for the past few days, saving them from living off of fast food by offering actual meals. Shane is surprised by how much he genuinely like this place. The woman that runs it always seems glad to see them, and she gave them free pie yesterday. He also likes the way Bergara’s face makes that annoyed, pinched expression as he stabs at his salad.

Bergara says stubbornly, “Just because he believes in some cryptids doesn’t mean he didn’t see a UFO.”

“Right. He saw a UFO twice and Bigfoot and Mothman just happen to be married.”

“He didn’t say he thought they were married!”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry – I’m the one saying ridiculous things here. Alright.”

Bergara rolls his eyes. “Clearly there’s no such thing as Bigfoot, but maybe Mothman – ”

“Bigfoot is the one you find ridiculous? He's the only one who has a chance at being real.”

“You believe in Bigfoot?”

Shane crosses his arms. Bergara’s looking at him with wide eyes, like Shane has suddenly grown three grotesque heads. “He’s meat and bone. Nothing supernatural about him – just something we maybe haven’t had a chance to study yet.”

Seconds tick by with Bergara looking at him, mouth open, and then suddenly he laughs, loud and his whole body practically shaking with it. “Oh god,” Bergara says, gasping for breath. “You’re serious!”

“Yes, I’m serious! How is Mothman the more reasonable choice here?”

Bergara just keeps laughing. He looks so different like this, Shane thinks. He’s never seen him actually enjoy himself. Shane should be angry that he’s being laughed at, but he can’t really find it in himself to be.

Still, to keep up appearances, he scowls at him. “Are you done? It’s not that funny.”

“It really is,” Bergara says, wiping away a tear, still grinning. “You believe in aliens in the most boring way possible, you don’t believe in ghosts, you’re always giving me shit about it, but fucking Sasquatch is your guy? That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“New species are discovered all the time!”

“Is it a height thing? Do tall boys have to stick together?”

“We can’t know – ”

He’s interrupted by Bergara’s phone going off. Bergara pulls it out and doesn’t bother excusing himself, just gets up and heads for the door.

Shane watches him go. This happens at least once every day, and yesterday, when Shane decided to follow him out, he heard Bergara say, “I will. Love you too,” before hanging up. He’d acted weird and suspicious when he saw that Shane was there, almost embarrassed.

Shane still hasn’t figured out why Bergara is even bothering to keep his girlfriend a secret. It’s not like Shane would make fun of him for having someone. Shane hasn’t even been out on a date in the last two years. If anything, there’s a jealous sting in his chest at the thought of Ryan Bergara having someone back home, despite being insane, and Shane spending his Saturday nights alone on the couch watching movies ‘til he falls asleep around ten.

“You guys ready for the check?” their waitress asks him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, please.”

“You’re the detectives in town, right? Everyone’s been talking about you.”

“Well, I’m really more of a research scientist. He’s the one that’s a detective, sort of.”

She seems to hesitate for a second but then still adds, “Are you two...together? Dating, I mean?”

“Us?” The question is so unexpected that Shane feels like his brain is short circuiting. “Me and him? Us?”

She instantly looks embarrassed. “Sorry, that’s just a rumor that’s going around town. People say you fight like an old married couple, and after seeing you together I thought – ” She shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, it’s all a bunch of gossip. I’ll just go get that check.”

Shane doesn’t know what to make of that comment by the time Bergara walks back in and sits down.

He still doesn’t know once they’re back at the motel. An old married couple? Them? Who could ever think that?

He watches as Bergara types away at his laptop, a look of concentration on his face. He’s wearing a soft looking t-shirt and sweatpants, and he’s got his glasses on. Sometimes he mutters to himself, just little snippets of things that Shane can’t quite catch from the other side of the room. And Shane thinks, Someone gets to look at him like this all the time. Someone gets to come home to this.

The waitress thought Shane was that person.

Funny, Shane thinks. An absolute riot that anyone would ever think that about us. But somehow it doesn’t really feel all that humorous.

***

Bergara’s phone ringing drags him out of sleep.

When he opens his eyes, Bergara’s sitting up in bed, groggily answering, “Hello?”

Shane checks the alarm clock: 6:43AM. It’s a little too early for the missus to be calling.

Bergara says into the phone, “Jesus, seriously? Where did it happen?... Thanks, yeah, we’ll head out straight away. There’s no report as to why he did it?... Thank you. Please keep me updated on any developments… You too.”

“What happened?”

“We gotta get moving. One of The Five – Steven – got arrested in Kentucky. Apparently he punched some guy at a bar last night.”

“Fuck.” Shane rubs at his eyes and wills his body to wake up. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They quickly get dressed and throw everything into their suitcases. They elbow each other out of the way at the sink as they brush their teeth, and Bergara’s tie is hastily stuffed into his pocket as they rush out the door to check out.

They need to stop and get gas an hour into their four hour drive there. Shane heads inside the gas station and grabs the biggest coffee cups they have and fills them up. Cream and sugar for him. Cream no sugar for Bergara.

It’s funny all the little things he’s picked up about Bergara from all of the meetings, the shared motel rooms, and – on one memorable occasion – a fundraising dinner that ended with the two of them arguing in the hallway, getting asked to leave, and then arguing in the parking lot. Shane knows the way he likes his coffee, that he loves theme parks, that he has respectable opinions about popcorn. That he hates Pop-Tarts, bears, and Shane.

It’s smart to know your enemy. And yet there’s so much he still doesn’t know, so much that Shane will never know, and the thought makes him frown as he pays for their pathetic breakfast and heads back to the car.

“You sure you don’t want to swing by Point Pleasant before we leave the state?” he says as he hands Bergara his cup of coffee. “You could try to seduce Mothman, break up his marriage with Bigfoot.”

Bergara almost looks like he wants to laugh but doesn’t. “Shut up.”

***

“Son of a bitch,” Bergara hisses as he stomps out of the police station. “We drove all this way!”

Steven was released two hours ago. The guy he punched didn’t want to press charges. They could be anywhere by now.

“Yeah, I seriously thought you were gonna crash the car and kill us. You get this glassy sort of crazed look in your eyes. It’s terrifying.”

Bergara glares at him.

Shane points at his face and says, “Yes, that one exactly! Spooky.”

“I really will kill you.”

Shane laughs, having heard that threat a hundred times before. Bergara is marching towards the car, several steps ahead of Shane now, so he has to call out his usual response, “I’m going to report you to Elizondo!”

They grab a late lunch as they wait to get information on last night’s victim. Bergara keeps arguing that this is completely outside of The Five’s normal behavior, that something had to have happened for him to punch someone, but Shane is pretty sure this is just escalation – that thing cults tend to do.

Shane says, “Soon we’re gonna have ourselves a little alien fight club going around.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Isn’t your middle name Steven?”

Bergara narrows his eyes at him in suspicion. “Yeah.”

“I feel like I’m making some real connections here. Connecting the dots. Are you also feeling a little punchy? Are aliens telling you to do it?”

“I’m feeling punchy, alright, but it has nothing to do with aliens.”

“I think we’re onto something here. Might wanna write that down in your little notebook.”

“No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Why won’t you let me see what’s in there?”

“Why would I show it to you when I know you’re just going to make fun of it?”

“Because we’re supposed to be a team. You can’t keep secrets from your teammate. And also because I want to make fun of it.”

Bergara shakes his head at him and sighs. “God, I really wish Brent had come instead of you.”

“But we’re having so much fun.” Shane gives him his sweetest, most obnoxious smile and is rewarded with Bergara giving him a look that clearly says he’d like to drown him in a river. “I think we’re on our way to becoming best friends.”

“We’re absolutely not.”

“Ehhh, I think we could be.”

“We’re not.”

“Do you like bracelets? We could get matching ones.”

Bergara’s phone beeps. He gives Shane one last disgust filled look before checking it. “Looks like the victim last night was Brad Langford. White male, thirty-one years old, brown hair, brown eyes.”

“Do you think he’s an alien?”

“I’m – I swear to god, I’m gonna just leave you by the side of the road,” Bergara says as Shane laughs.

***

Langford isn’t home when they get to his house. His neighbor, a sweet old lady who called Shane handsome and is therefore his favorite person in this town, said that Brad usually hangs around the local bars most nights.

The first bar they go to is a bust, as is the second. The third is packed thanks to a band that is set to play that night. They decide to split up and look for him, or rather, Bergara decides that’s what they should do and bossily tells Shane the plan.

The place is not that big, but with so many people shifting around, it’s not an easy task even with his height advantage. It also doesn’t help that the lighting is rather low and many of the men are wearing baseball hats. It feels like a rather futile search, and he’s about to go find Bergara and tell him that when he notices a man staring at him.

He’s blond, dressed in a blue button-up that compliments his eyes. He smiles at Shane and walks over when Shane smiles back. He says, “Hey, I’m Zack.”

“I’m Shane.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He glances down Shane’s frame and adds, “Very nice.”

Shane laughs and feels stupidly pleased that maybe he’s still got something going for him. Bergara isn’t the only one capable of getting a date, at least. “Thanks. Nice to meet you too.” It occurs to Shane that if he’s gonna chat up a local, it might be worth asking, “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know a Brad Langford, by any chance?”

Zack frowns and looks a bit thrown off. “Brad? Uh, yeah, I do actually. I used to work with him. Why?”

“Oh it’s this whole thing,” Shane says, rolling his eyes to try and make it seem like it’s not a big deal. “He got punched in the face yesterday, and we’re just trying to see what happened.”

“Well he’s usually down at the Red Lion, from what I remember. Not surprised to hear he got punched, though. That was just bound to happen.” He gives Shane another once over, this one less admiring, and asks, “Are you a cop?”

“Oh god, no, this is not at all a real investigation, trust me.”

“So a sort of fake investigation, huh? That sounds pretty interesting. Could I buy you a drink? I’d sure love to hear how Brad got punched in the face.”

“Um,” Shane says and is saved from answering thanks to Bergara popping up next to him.

“I got nothing,” Bergara says, before noticing Zack. He frowns at him and looks suspiciously between him and Shane. “Am I interrupting something here?”

“A bit,” Zack says with a laugh.

“Oh.” Bergara doesn’t move, just gives Shane another disapproving frown.

Shane quickly says, “Zack here knows where we can find Langford. Um, we should probably head over there.”

Zack says, “Well, if you have a free night…” He grabs a napkin from a nearby table and writes his phone number on it. He hands it to Shane with another flirtatious smile. “I’d be pretty interested to hear from you.”

Shane smiles back and tucks the napkin into his pocket. “Thanks,” he says, before following after Bergara who is already making his way to the door.

As Shane gets into the passenger seat of the car, he says, “I guess Mrs. Baker was right. I really am a handsome young man.”

Bergara rolls his eyes as he starts the car. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yes, but handsomely insufferable.”

“Jesus, just pull up the address and let’s go. You can brag about your conquests later.”

The Red Lion looks dodgy as hell. It’s the sort of place that Shane would think only tough bikers would be into, with a sort of look that says that yes, several people have been stabbed here. His feeling of dread only worsens as several people turn to look at them as they make their way in.

“Is it just me,” Shane says, keeping his voice low so that only Bergara can hear, “or does everyone here look like they could murder us?”

“It’s definitely not just you.” Bergara seems nervous, which doesn’t exactly make Shane feel better. He’s gained quite a bit of muscle over the last two years, but he’s never been much of a fighter. Neither is Shane, which means they’d be pretty royally fucked in a fight.

Bergara leads them to the bar where they try to look around as casually as possible. It’s pretty easy to spot Langford. His face is bruised, and he looks like the sort of guy that would’ve called Shane homophobic slurs in high school.

They approach him carefully. He’s sitting by himself in one of the corner tables, a large glass of beer in hand. He doesn’t look pleased to see them.

“Brad Langford?” Bergara asks. Shane is rather impressed that he managed to keep his voice steady.

“Who’s asking?”

“My name is Agent Bergara, and this is Dr. Madej. We were hoping to ask you a couple of questions about the incident last night.”

Langford glares at them and says through gritted teeth, “I have nothing to say about that.”

“We’d just like to know if – ”

Langford gets to his feet so quickly that he knocks over his beer, the scrape of the chair against the floor making them flinch. He gets close to Bergara, almost nose to nose, and says, “I already told you I’m not talking about that.”

Before he can think, Shane says, “Hey, take it easy now,” and steps closer until he’s towering over Langford. The man turns his glare towards Shane, though it’s less impressive now that he has to crane his neck to look at him. “We’re not here to start trouble.”

“I know my rights,” Langford says. “I won’t tolerate being harassed by the likes of you.”

“Um, Madej.” Bergara grabs Shane by the sleeve of his shirt. “We should probably get going.”

Looking away from Langford, Shane sees that basically all of the other patrons have their eyes on them. A few are standing up, preparing to step in.

Fuck, Shane thinks. His eyes meet Bergara’s, and it’s clear he’s thinking the same thing. “Let’s go,” Shane says. He turns back to Langford who is still looking at them like he’s ready for another fight. The sight sends a shiver down his spine as he and Bergara walk quickly towards the door.

They lock the car doors as soon as they get in. Shane fully expects a mob to come out of the bar to hunt them down, but thank god no one does.

It takes a few minutes for Shane's heart to slow down, but as soon as it does, he says, “You were just about to get your ass kicked.”

“Shut up,” Bergara says testily, glancing away from the road to shoot him a glare. “You were about to get your ass kicked.”

“No, you were just – ”

“If I hadn’t – ”

“– about to get the ass kicking of – ”

“– stepped in, and – good lord! Okay, just, shut up! Let's just get a motel and get some fucking sleep. We can have this stupid fight in the morning.”

“Fine.”

“You were for sure going to end up in a hospital, though.”

***

“Goddammit,” Bergara groans as they drive by yet another motel with a sign that says No Vacancy. It feels like they’ve gone to every motel in town. It’s late, they’re tired, and completely empty handed.

Shane rolls his eyes. He feels like his body is about to collapse from exhaustion. There's only one last place in town they haven't checked, and with the shitty luck they've had today, it seems like they're gonna end up sleeping in the car.

It's a tense seven minute drive.

The bright, neon Vacancy sign makes them both sigh in relief. They grab their bags from the trunk and head for the lobby, feet dragging, shoulders slumped. Shane can’t wait to lie down and sleep for ten years. They ask for a room with two beds.

The woman behind the counter says, “All we have available is a room with one bed.”

Bergara says, “What about an extra cot?”

She gives Bergara a look that clearly says she wishes he hadn’t asked but still says, “I’ll go check,” before disappearing behind a door.

Shane lets his bag drop to the floor. He’s so fucking tired. “Very noble of you to sleep on the cot,” he says.

“It’s for you.

“You think I would fit? Me? Have you seen my legs?”

“I’m sure you can fold your freak legs up to fit.”

“Your tiny body won’t even notice the difference.”

Bergara exhales a long, exhausted sigh. “They might not even have one, and then we wasted time arguing about it.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s be adults about this. There’s gotta be a fair way to settle this.”

***

The cot is about two inches too short for him. He’s by the window, and it’s drafty. The blankets are uncomfortable and somehow both not warm enough and making him sweaty.

But Shane lost the coin-flip, so now all he can do is silently curse Bergara for getting to spread out on the king sized bed. He had laughed when Shane suggested they share the bed and said, “You lost, loser.”

Shane really, really, really hates him. This is cruel. Bergara is a deranged sociopath, just like Shane always suspected.

But, as he adjusts his legs to try and find a comfortable position, a tiny, begrudging part of him has to admit that this is a little funny.

Bergara has more guts than Shane ever gave him credit for, and he can’t help but respect that.

***

Shane has always been a scientist at heart. He has always poked and prodded at things to figure them out. The world has rules and order. You can observe and predict, and then everything starts to make sense.

And maybe that’s why Shane can't take his eyes off him the next morning as Bergara stands in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie despite the Kentucky summer heat.

He's never understood Bergara. He’s never particularly wanted to either, too busy arguing with him to even try. But there must be some sort of order to the madness in that brain of his, and the more time they spend together, the more Shane wonders what exactly that even looks like.

“Let’s go,” Bergara says, turning away from the mirror and heading straight for the door.

Shane could complain about his bossy tone or argue about where they’re going, but he stops himself. Instead he heads to the dresser where he’d emptied out his pockets the night before to grab his wallet and room key. He’s a little surprised to see the napkin with Zack’s number sitting there. He’d honestly forgotten about that.

Bergara’s already opening the door and stepping outside. Shane quickly stuffs his wallet and key into his back pocket. He grabs the napkin and tosses it into the trash can as he follows Bergara out the door.

Bergara has never made sense to him, but Shane thinks it might be worth a try.

***

It's been rather quiet as Bergara scribbles away in his notebook during breakfast. As far as Shane can tell, he's trying to form some sort of plan, but it doesn't seem to be going well based on the way he keeps frowning at it.

Shane only looks away from studying him when his phone beeps.

Brent: Still alive?

Shane smiles as he reads the text. Kind of him to check up, though a little late since his body would be well into the decomposing stage if Bergara had given into a violent impulse at the start of the trip.

Shane: Just barely. He’s worse than I feared

Brent: Can I get your cat calendar once you kick it?

Bergara frowns at him as Shane laughs and sends back a quick text telling him to keep his dirty paws away from his calendar – pun fully intended.

“Who are you texting?”

“Why, do you think they’re secret aliens?” Shane says, the response spilling out of him automatically.

Bergara rolls his eyes at him. “Yeah, ‘cause that joke just gets funnier and funnier.” He looks back down at his notebook, ignoring Shane once again, and Shane feels a prickle of regret.

He hadn’t really meant to say that. Shane shifts in his chair, trying to look casual, like he couldn’t care less as he asks, “Who keeps calling you? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Bergara looks up sharply and eyes Shane suspiciously. The seconds tick by, making Shane sweat, until finally Bergara says, “Fine. You first.”

“It’s just Brent. Just checking in and threatening to steal my stuff.”

“Oh,” Bergara says, sounding surprised. “I thought… I didn’t think you guys were close.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty good friends. Who did you think it was?”

“I don’t know.” Bergara shrugs. “Not Brent.”

“Your turn.”

“Okay.” Bergara gives him another suspicious look and fidgets with a sugar packet. “But you can’t make fun of me for it.”

“I’m absolutely not agreeing to that.”

Bergara narrows his eyes at him but says anyway, “It’s… It’s my mom.”

It takes a second to sink in. Over and over, Shane had been picturing all these different partners, different home scenes, domestic bliss, and happiness. Shane feels himself grin, despite wanting to suppress it.

Bergara rolls his eyes and slouches further down his seat. “I knew you were going to be an ass about it.”

“No, no,” Shane says, trying to hide his face behind his coffee cup. “That’s sweet. Is she, like, your best friend?”

The sugar packet hits him on the forehead, making him spill some of his coffee, and Shane starts laughing. He can’t help it. Something in his chest feels looser, more relaxed, and oh god, his mom? Here Shane had been so jealous of Bergara having someone, of being beaten in this area of life, and in reality… Shane had nothing to worry about.

“Our family dog was sick. She’s been keeping me up to date.”

“Aw, Bergara, you big ol’ softie! That’s absolutely adorable.”

“Shut up,” Bergara says, obviously trying to hide his embarrassment.

Its funny how Shane feels absolutely happy at having solved the mystery of the caller. It had been nagging at him. Maybe that’s what prompts him to share, “I’m pretty close with my parents. I get it.”

“Oh so you weren’t created in a lab, built by scientists trying to create a human computer?”

Shane laughs. “I may seem like the pinnacle of perfection, but I’m all human, baby.”

Bergara scoffs but smiles, and Shane feels something in his chest spark up at the sight.

“I in no way implied perfection.”

“I think you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did,” Shane says, taking a sip of his coffee with an air of finality.

“You’re insufferable. I hate you so much,” Bergara says, but for the first time, Shane doesn’t quite believe him.

***

Nobody wants to talk.

They spend the rest of the day trying to track down witnesses, employees, cops, anything. The most they get is a handful of brief statements, all basically saying that everything was normal and then suddenly one of them snapped and punched Langford.

It’s almost five in the afternoon when they hit a complete dead end.

“Well,” Bergara says with a deep sigh, “guess we should...we should...” He slowly slumps against the steering wheel. “I don’t fucking know. This the worst.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty shit.”

Bergara groans in misery, looking so dejected and pitiful, that for a moment Shane actually has the urge to reach over and pat his shoulder or – or do something to make it better. That would probably be weird, right? Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over too well. Plus what is he thinking, wanting to comfort Bergara?

Clearly, there’s only one real option.

It takes some convincing and a bit of arguing, but twenty-five minutes later they finally pull into the least sketchy sounding bar Shane could find, which happens to be a sports bar. Bergara instantly perks up as soon as they walk in, eyes quickly scanning the framed jerseys hanging on virtually every bit of space that isn’t covered by a TV.

They sit at the bar and order two beers.

Bergara’s eyes are glued to a screen that is showing a bunch of stuff about football, and Shane starts to feel a little weird, a little out of place. Here they are in what some might call companionable silence. If Bergara wasn’t wearing a suit, they might even blend in as two regular dudes just hanging out.

“So…” Shane says to break the silence. “You like sports?”

It takes a second for Bergara to tear his eyes away from the screen, but when he looks over at Shane, he gives him a look like that’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. And okay, maybe it was stupid considering that he has berated Bergara before for making sports references that Shane doesn’t get, but Shane just sips his beer and stares at him expectantly.

“Yeah,” Bergara answers, apparently deciding to humor him. “Love ‘em.”

“What’s your favorite team?”

“From which sport?”

Shane shrugs. “I don’t know. Sports. All sports.”

Bergara huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes like Shane’s an idiot. “I’m a die hard Lakers fan for basketball and a Chargers fan for football. Clearly I don’t have to ask if you have a favorite team.”

“No, I don’t know a lick about any of that. Well, I think the Lakers are in L.A. right? That’s about all I know.”

“Yeah, the Chargers too.”

“You got a thing for L.A.?”

“That’s where I’m from.”

“You are? Huh,” Shane says, adding that to his ever growing pile of facts about Bergara. Shane had gotten the sense that it was somewhere out west, but had never pinpointed a place. “How’d you end up on the other side of the country?”

“I got this job, basically. Human case officer at AATIP. Think about that,” he says, pointing a finger at Shane. “We could’ve spent our whole lives with thousands of miles between us, our paths never crossing, if it wasn’t for the creation of this department.”

“Just another reason to hate AATIP,” Shane says automatically, a complete reflex by now. His insides flinch as he hears himself, bracing for this conversation to go off the rails like usual.

But Bergara just scoffs out a laugh and fires back, “Yup. I wake up every day and wish I had done something else with my stupid film degree.”

“What?” Shane sets his beer down with a thud, turning his body so that he’s completely facing him. “Are you – they offered you the job after getting a degree in film? As in, fiction? Oh, this makes so much sense!”

“Is your brain exploding?” Bergara asks, smiling. “Are you about to go out running and screaming that you solved the case?”

“Yes. Oh man, I am so sorry. All this time I thought you were a total idiot, but you were just talking about Hollywood stuff.”

Maybe it’s just the beer kicking in, but Bergara laughs, another one of those full bodied ones that practically make him double over. It takes him a couple of seconds to compose himself. “God, you’re the worst.”

This really does click things into place, though. Bergara looked pretty young in those videos, and Shane always wondered how they could’ve hired someone with that kind of reputation. He has to ask: “Did you get hired because of those investigation videos?”

Bergara’s smile quickly dissolves into a frown. “How do you know about those?” he asks, sounding betrayed, voice all high like it gets when he’s getting worked up. “Did Brent tell you?”

Brent knew about them? Brent knew, and he didn’t fucking tell Shane?

But Shane takes the easy way out and says, “Yeah, he told me,” and doesn’t mention that he’s spent too many nights over the last two years googling him and that those videos are some of the first things that come up. He doesn’t tell him how he’s hate watched them dozens of times, Bergara laying out theories and so-called investigations about ghosts and cold cases and, of course, aliens.

Bergara looks embarrassed, eyes on his beer, shoulders slightly hunched in. “Whatever, they were good investigations, and they got me this job. It sharpened my skills.”

“I liked them,” Shane says before he can stop himself. “No, yeah, they were pretty good.”

Bergara gives him a suspicious look. “You liked them?”

“Yeah, good editing. Clear format.”

“...Thanks?” he says hesitantly, still clearly waiting for the punchline.

So Shane gives it to him: “Yeah, and I loved that voice you put on. Having said that, let’s get into some theories. Loved that.”

It works. Bergara laughs and says, “Fuck you!”

“No, no, it was really good. Hey guys, this is Ryan with another video of Unsolved! That was my favorite part.”

“I’m gonna delete them.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shane shrugs and takes another gulp of his beer. “Got them all saved onto a DVD, so. They’re safe and sound.”

“If I had just stayed in L.A…” Bergara sighs dramatically and shakes his head. “Buzzfeed offered to pick up the show.”

“Aw, come on, Ryan! Aren’t you having a good time?”

“No! Especially hearing my name come out of your mouth, jesus – it’s so freaky.”

“What do you mean, Ryan?”

“Nothing, Shane.”

It sends a strange feeling down Shane’s spine, a thrill, a shiver, making him laughs. “Okay, yeah, that’s weird.”

***

“Just let me sleep in the bed,” Shane says.

“No.”

“I’ll stay on my side. You won’t even notice I’m there.”

“No.”

“I’m writing a strongly worded letter to AATIP,” Shane says miserably from the cot. “This is inhumane.”

Bergara laughs and turns off the bedside lamp. “Do it. See if I care.”

It’s just as uncomfortable as it was last night, but it doesn’t take long for Shane to feel the edge of sleep pulling him in. It’s been a long, exhausting day, though they managed to go the rest of the night without falling into any serious arguments. An absolute miracle, truly.

Shane is almost completely under when he hears Bergara ask, “Do you think we’ll find her?”

Shane blinks a couple of times, for a second unsure if what he heard was real or his brain playing tricks on him. But in the dark he hears Bergara shifting around, what sounds like a pillow being moved.

Will they find her? Honestly, she’s probably dead, has probably been dead for weeks, and if she’s not, then God help her because Shane doesn’t even like to think about what could be happening to her in the hands of a cult.

But that’s not the answer Bergara needs to hear. And maybe even two days ago Shane wouldn’t have cared and would have told him the truth, but there’s something in his voice that makes Shane say, “Yeah. We’ll find her.”