Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell/Anita verse settings belong to other very lucky people.
Pairings/Couples/Category: UC/Crossover. This is a Liz centric story set entirely in the Anita verse. Pairings are to be determined and won't be revealed until at least ten chapters in.
Rating: Adult, there will be violence and sex; this is crossed with Anita Blake after all!
Summary: Liz dies and ends up somewhere quite different than she expected. Alien battles have nothing on vampires, werewolves, and zombies. What has she gotten herself into now?
For Roswell this is set in the future as Max is sent back. For AB this starts right before Killing Dance and will continue most likely through all the books, currently have written chapters up to and through Burnt Offerings.
Author's Note: This is the story of the Future Liz who sent Max back to change the past, one who loved Michael with all her heart though she never acted on it. This is not a polar story and other than flashbacks will not bring in the Roswell Universe at all as this story is set after her death in the Granolith Chamber so if you’re a die hard Dreamer you can still read this as there won’t be a lot of Liz/Michael mentions and there won’t be any Max bashing. As for why her story continued after her death you will have to read and find out. And technically this is the Future Liz from my story When Dreams Change but you in no way have to have read that story to understand this one.
Liz could hear her breath coming in short sharp gasps that she knew were sending bursts of pain through her body even if she could no longer feel them; all immediate sensations long lost to the raging ache that spread from her toes to the base of her skull.
Max disappeared in a flash of green and a triumphant smile curved her lips for the first time in almost two years. If he succeeded than she would never marry Max, the man she had once loved and now hated with a coldness dulled only by time. If their plan worked she would never have to watch the man she loved die without ever having kissed him or held him or heard him say what they both felt.
As her vision darkened and she welcomed the warm caress of death pulling her away she felt a sudden sharp tug and heard a whispered apology in her quickly fading mind. Then all conscious thought left her and she drifted away.
The first thing she saw when consciousness returned was an open grave, not the most encouraging of sights when you thought you were dead, and only years of practice at hiding her emotions in battlefield conditions enabled her to not squeal like a little girl.
Her breath was coming in those short sharp gasps again and she realized with sudden shock that said breaths didn’t hurt, in fact nothing hurt. She almost didn’t remember what lack of pain felt like.
Propping herself up with her elbow she saw that she was laying on her right side in the middle of a cemetery. It was dark and the only thing lighting the scene was the crescent moon over head and the distant glow of streetlamps. The cemetery was devoid of all life other than her, assuming that she was in fact alive, and none of it looked familiar.
A cold chill crept down her spine and she rose gracefully to her feet, surprised to feel no soreness in the knee that had plagued her since the battle when they lost Isabel. Had Khivar captured her and kept her alive somehow, was this a warp?
No, she knew what a warp felt like and even in her weakened state would have known if that presence invaded her mind again. Either she was dead, dreaming, or something decidedly alien was going on.
All of her senses were heightened when her changes manifested and her night vision was nearly as strong as her vision in full sunlight so spotting the wallet on the dark and bumpy ground next to her didn’t even register on her unusual meter. She hadn’t carried a wallet since high school and so hoped it belonged to someone who had visited the cemetery. With any luck it would have a driver’s license indicating the city she was in and a good estimate of what year it was.
The only assumption she could make at this point was that her being here was a side effect of using the Granolith, and if it had moved her through space it could have easily moved her through time as well. The black leather was cool against her fingertips and of high enough quality to bring a wistful smile to her face. It smelled like Michael’s jacket and for a brief moment her eyes shined a little too brightly.
Digging her nails into her palm hard enough to draw blood to the surface she forcefully brought herself to the present and flipped open the wallet, then stared at it for precisely five seconds before it slipped from her suddenly numb fingers and fell with a soft thud onto the grass, her own face staring back up at her from the damp green blades.
Realizing she was starting to hyperventilate again she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air tasted of trees; trees as old as the graves around her, and of freshly turned earth, rich with the combination of new life and old death. There wasn’t even a hint of a breeze and the graveyard was so quiet she could hear the distant sound of cars on what must be a freeway, and water trickling from a broken sprinkler on the opposite side of the hill.
Slowly opening her eyes she spread her awareness as far as she could, cataloging every sight and sound in her vicinity. When she was conscious enough of her surroundings that she would know the instant something changed she moved her exploration to herself.
Her body held no mysteries for her and she had been completely aware of its functions and capabilities for years now, an absolute necessity when the only thing between you and death was yourself. Fighting a sudden surge of panic she realized that had was the key word. No longer could she predict every single electrical impulse and muscle reaction; her body was a stranger to her now.
The muscles were younger and stronger than they had been since the invasion started winning and they started losing. Her nerve endings were more sensitive and her senses more enhanced, everything was more efficient and effective.
There was something else in here with her; something that tasted of power and violence, something that wasn’t human and never had been and it terrified her. Hadn’t she been far enough from human? Did she have to become even more of a freak?
A single tear slid down her cheek before her finely honed anger, as sharp as a blade and just as deadly, rose and cleared her thoughts. Taking one more deep breath she stopped analyzing her inner self and focused on the surface.
Her hair was longer, just brushing the bottom of her shoulder blades and fell in natural soft waves instead of the unnatural straightness of before. The heeled black leather boots were the same as were the tight black jeans and her top; including to her sudden joy the jacket she had taken from Michael’s cooling body. That explained the smell. It wasn’t the wallet, it was her and that made everything just a little bit better.
The knives that were always tucked in her boots and the one on her forearm were still there as well and she took comfort in the fact that despite the unknown territory she was armed with more than her abilities. Sometimes cold hard steel was all you had to rely on and she had learned long ago not to fall in the trap of trusting your powers and nothing else.
Feeling in control once again she reached down for the second time and picked up the wallet, coolly examining the drivers license that had so shocked her before. It was her face, her new hair, even the jacket was the same.
Elizabeth Winters; age 26, height 5’3”, weight 108, hair brunette, eyes brown. The address listed was a house in St. Louis Missouri and the license expired on September 13th 1995; not only was she in the past but she was younger as well which helped explain her new and improved physique.
Just how powerful was the Granolith? With a shudder she realized she didn’t really want to know.
Now calm, or as calm as one could be when a mystical alien device had thrown you through space and time and altered the very fabric of your being, she delved further into the wallet. There were several folded hundred dollar bills and a house key along with what looked like a business card. It was blank and white on the front while the back had one word and a phone number on it in a barely legible scrawl; that is if RPIT counted as a word.
Glancing back at the driver’s license she memorized the address and tucked the wallet in her back pocket, and the key in her right jacket pocket. The house that she supposedly lived in would be a good place to start.
A/N: The to be determined part of the pairings does mean you get a vote. I am leaning towards a triumverate so you can vote for a shifter and a vampire and the only two completely out of the ruling are Richard and Jean-Claude. Richard cause he irritates me and Jean-Claude because I'm keeping him with Anita. Other than that, give me your choices and some reasons for said choices and we will see!
A/N2: I added the pretty banner!