Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 16b
(Hide and Seek)
The Evans Household........7:00 PM
Isabel was frightened and worried. She and Kyle had kind of bonded over sandwiches and lemonade for supper as he'd told her about his newly recovered memories, but she still couldn't trip him up to discover what he was covering up, if he was covering up anything. As time went on, she'd started growing desperate and irritable. And fearful. She'd moved through the house quietly and quickly, moving from window to window, repeatedly checking locks, because deep inside she knew that something was out there in the rain and wet.
A few minutes ago she'd gone outside when the storm had slackened to make sure that she hadn't forgotten to completely roll up the windows on the SUV. The storm hadn't stopped entirely, but it had slowed to a warm drizzle, almost a mist. As she'd walked around the SUV, a car turned the corner a few houses down and the blinding glare of its headlights had caught her in the eyes. She swore and blinked at her temporary blindness. However, when her vision cleared she was elsewhere. She was now standing in a rainy parking lot. There was a large well lighted building with a large awning. Her heart began to hammer. She was afraid. Something bad was going to happen here. She spotted movement in the shadow of the awning. There was someone there. She would have cried out, except the silhouette seemed familiar. She held back a moment, then she did cry out, in warning as a man leapt from the building roof top and landed behind the person under the awning, whom she still could not see clearly. Whether it was her warning or not, the mystery man...for she could see that it was a man now, turned to face his would-be assailant. They drew swords. Swords? A moment later a third man joined the first to face his attacker. The set of their bodies spoke of deadly violence barely restrained... then there was a roar behind her. As she turned towards the sound she caught a tantalizing glimpse of the mystery man in half profile.... just a hint of familiar features..... before headlights blinded her again. When the glare blindness faded, she was home, in the driveway, standing there soaked to the skin..... and thoroughly frightened. She was afraid of the night for the first time since she was a little girl.
Isabel had run inside and locked the door. Kyle was still in the living room, half asleep in front of the television. Isabel moved rapidly through the house, checking all the locks again. Something was happening. Something bad was coming.
After checking the windows she grabbed the phone in the kitchen and dialed Maria's cell phone from memory. The phone rang quite a while as Isabel muttered, "Come on! Pick up! Please, pick up!" over and over again.
"Hello?" said Maria's familiar voice.
Isabel nearly collapsed with relief. "Where are you? And why did you take so long to answer!?"
Maria paused then answered, sounding puzzled. "Liz and I are at the UFO Center, and we were helping Brody with the new display. I left my phone in my purse in the office. Isabel you sound a little freaked. Is everything okay?"
Isabel's jitters were increasing by the moment. "No, everything is NOT okay. I just had a flash that scared me to death. And I'm getting this danger vibe that has me climbing the walls. Maria, I think it's a good idea if we're all together tonight. Something is coming. I can feel it." She paused. "Can you guys come here?"
Maria hesitated then Isabel could hear her talking to someone else. A moment later, Liz came on the line. "Isabel, I think that it would be better if you came here, I really do."
Right at that particular moment Isabel would have preferred to stay indoors for the rest of the night, if not the rest of her life, but she sighed and said, "I'll get Kyle. We'll be there shortly."
"Okay," Liz said, "we'll be expecting you. The guys will be joining us here soon too."
It was a measure of how upset she was that Isabel hung the phone up without so much as a good-bye. She charged into the living room and yanked the coat closet open. Finding both her jacket and Kyle's she tugged hers on while hastily throwing Kyle's at him. When Kyle's jacket landed on him he started awake.
"Who? What?" he grunted.
"Get your jacket on," Isabel said tersely. "We're going to the UFO Center, and you're driving."
Kyle blinked slowly, and came fully awake. "And exactly why....?" he broke off as the look on her face registered. He got out the chair, pulled on his jacket, and felt for his keys. "What's the matter Isabel?"
Isabel shuddered, hard. "I don't know. Something bad is happening. I can feel it. Something is out there. It's coming." She paused. "It's time for us all to stick together."
Without a further word Kyle followed her to the front door. Before he let her step outside though, he checked the area for uninvited guests. Then he escorted her to his car.
Once she was in the passenger seat, her fear rose higher, threatening to devour her reason.
Kyle heard her whimper as he started the car. Looking over he saw her trying to draw up into a ball. Uttering a harsh curse he slammed the 'Stang into gear, backed out, and laid rubber for the UFO Center. The Evans' neighbors might not like that, but he had a feeling that they might like what could happen a whole lot less, if Isabel's reaction was any indication of things to come.
As they drove into the night, Isabel stared out the window and fought the fear with everything at her command. But it came hard, because she knew, with utter certainty, that she was right.
Something *was* out there. And it wasn't friendly. It was old, sly, evil, and full of malice and hate...and it was hunting.
It simply wasn't hunting here. And it wasn't hunting her...
No, something *else* was hunting here. And *it* wasn't hunting her either. The unseen watcher in the bushes down the block was unruffled. There was plenty of time to work with. And the rain felt good on a husk that was getting harder and harder to maintain every day.
She faded into the night, to wait for another day.
Abandoned Schulthiss Furniture Factory and Warehouse
Near the Seattle Waterfront District....................................7:15 PM
It wasn't a terribly large or impressive looking factory. It had never employed more than one hundred and fifty to two hundred full-time workers, at most. But the grounds and buildings provided enough room in which he could maneuver. And there were places to hide. Cover from which to launch an ambush. When Alex arrived at the hole in the fence he was breathing faster, but not heavily. The last six blocks he'd broken into a steady trot to gain time and distance on his pursuer. And he *still* had a pursuer. He'd caught glimpses of him, and felt the buzz as Conterras had sought to close the gap between them.
Alex had thought about this a great deal in the last twenty-four hours. Conterras was a lazy killer, choosing the easy prey over the difficult. Like a carrion eater. Thus he would lack the stamina that Duncan had trained into Alex. Yet Alex was a newbie, so Conterras would expect panic. So Alex gave him panic. Conterras would expect him to run until he was too spent to fight effectively. So he ran. And that fear would sap his will further. Alex *was* afraid too, but he didn't let it rule his actions. His run had served several purposes. First, it had bought him time. Second, it simulated the panic that Conterras was hoping to engender... thus it drew him on. Third, by pacing himself Alex remained relatively fresh, while his less disciplined enemy was straining himself to keep up... and tiring as a result. Fourth and finally, he hoped that it was pissing his pursuer off. Angry people get impatient, and arrogant in their hurry. That would be an edge that Alex could use.
Alex lifted the flap of fencing that they always used to gain entrance and stepped through into the weed grown and debris strewn factory yard. He was on a first name basis with every square inch of the property, since Duncan had frequently conducted exercises here, both daytime and nighttime, during Alex's training. With luck he'd have five or six minutes, at most, to get in position. And perhaps a few minutes longer as Conterras sought for a way in. Wasting no time he dashed across the brightly moonlit factory grounds and into the main factory building where a broken door allowed entry. When this factory had gone under, everything had been left where the workers had dropped it. Machinery, half completed furniture, raw materials. All of it sat there, clearly visible in the moonlight pouring in through the roof skylights, gathering dust and slowly deteriorating. One part of Alex saw it as a tragic waste. The other gloried in the amount of cover available. Pausing he slapped a small device on the rusting carcass of a lathe just inside the door, then he ran on, zig zagging through the shop, headed for the raw material storage at the other end, leaving a 'party favor' at every zig or zag. He only had a dozen assorted toys, harmless in and of them selves, but entertaining and useful. Duncan wouldn't allow them during their training runs, he considered them cheating, but in this case Alex wasn't about to quibble...and Duncan didn't get a vote.
Reaching the stacks of unused lumber, Alex chose the tallest one remaining. The end cuts were uneven, providing him with handholds and footholds. Up the end of the pile he went, reaching the top he lay down flat to wait, nearly fifteen feet above the floor. He didn't have to wait long. As he sought to steady his breathing, the electric chill of the buzz stole over him. "Company coming to call," he muttered to himself.
Now the next move would belong to Conterras.
MacLeod's Dojo......7:20 PM
Richie groaned as consciousness returned. He felt like crap. No, worse than crap. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been taken out, thoroughly and individually beaten, and then put back. He tried to sit up, but his balance was off and his muscles wouldn't coordinate. "What the hell did he hit me with?" he muttered. "Bottled lightning?" Richie collapsed back on the bed breathing heavily and waited for the muscle tremors to die down. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he tried to move again. He groaned and managed to pull himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He bent over and supported his head in his hands, lest it fall off. "How long have I been out?" he wondered silently. He looked up and focused bleary eyes on the bedside clock. It read 7:30 PM. "An hour or more at least," he muttered. At least Richie *hoped* that he'd only been out an hour....instead of twenty-four hours. He still wasn't thinking clearly yet, but he knew two things. "Mac is going to have a cow." Richie gave an experimental chuckle at the thought, only to have it end in a groan. "And I'm going to get even with Alex if it's the last thing I ever do." He pulled himself to his feet and supported himself against the wall with one hand. "What is it about hero types? They make the mistakes, and the sidekick is the one who gets stomped. It happens every damned time!"
Richie staggered over to his portable phone and tried to focus on the key pad. Taking careful and lengthy aim he made a drunken stab at the speed dial, and hit it. That was followed by another lucky stab at the button programmed with Duncan's cell phone number. Richie brought the phone to his ear and winced at the sound of it ringing. In his current state it sounded awful, like a dental drill...tickling a pie pan. With a groan he slid down the wall and sat down hard with his back to it.
"Hello?" came Duncan's terse answer.
Richie tried to pull it together and say something, but he simply ended up groaning again.
"Hello? Who is this?" MacLeod snapped.
"Mac, could you not shout please?" Richie managed to say.
MacLeod had been quartering the neighborhood, trying to pick up the fleeting trace of Conterras that he'd felt earlier, without any luck. As a result he was not in a terribly good mood. "What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.
Back at the Dojo, Richie winced. "My head hurts. Alex got the drop on me. He's gone."
Duncan froze in place. "How long ago?" he demanded.
"At least an hour, maybe a few minutes longer," Richie answered.
Duncan stood there, thinking furiously. He had that quality of not rehashing old news. Once the die was cast, you had to roll with the punches. "Alex isn't stupid," Duncan thought. "He'll have a plan. If he has to fight, he wants good ground. He'll want ground that he knows well....and privacy." Then Duncan grinned. "Of course he will."
Richie listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. He could almost hear Mac's 'wheels' spinning. After a moment he prodded him. "Mac?"
Duncan was already walking towards the Dojo. He was only two blocks away. "Richie, are you in any shape to get downstairs? How'd he get the drop on you?"
Richie was recovering faster now, but it would be hours before he felt completely human again. "Yeah, I can make it. As for what he did, we forgot his mad scientist side. He returned my hair dryer, with what had to be a taser in it."
Duncan paused, but only for a moment. "You're kidding, right? No... don't answer that, of course you aren't. Look, meet me at the front door with your bike keys. I know where he has to be.... or least that's where I *hope* he is. But I need fast wheels to get there in time."
Richie pulled himself up while Duncan was talking and managed to stumble to his jacket and retrieve his bike keys. By the time Duncan had finished his request, Richie was already shambling down the hall towards the main loft...and the elevator. "I'm on my way with the keys. Just give me a minute to drag myself to the door."
"All right, I'll see you shortly," Duncan answered. He snapped the phone shut and broke into a ground eating lope.
Arriving at the Dojo, he dashed up the steps while fumbling with his keys, only to have the door open in front of him. Jeeezus, Richie hadn't been lying. He looked like death warmed over. "Are you okay?" Duncan queried.
Richie nodded slightly and winced. "I'll live, though it'll be a while before I'll really want to." He held out his keys. "Here." Then he showed Duncan what else was in his hand. "Alex's door keys," he said. "They were on the floor inside the mail slot. Either he doesn't think that we'll want him back... or he's planning against the possibility that he won't survive *to* come back."
Duncan nodded curtly and took both sets of keys. "It's probably the latter, knowing Alex. Is the bike around back?"
Richie nodded again, with more confidence this time. "Get going Mac, bring him back."
Duncan laughed. "I have to, otherwise Amanda will kill me in my sleep."
Richie grinned weakly. "Good....because I want the opportunity to return the favor he did me...with a hot foot of my own. I owe him that much." He paused. "See ya later."
MacLeod nodded and set off towards rear of the building at a trot. Reaching the bike he wasted no time keying the ignition, kick-starting the bike to life, and roaring out of the alley, headed for the abandoned Schulthiss property.
Roswell, New Mexico, the UFO Center....7:10 PM
Liz was getting antsy. Max had contacted her around 6:30 to say that they'd gotten their evidence, and that they were assisting in the packing and loading of the sonar gear, but that they would shortly be on their way back. Whatever Michael had told Maria was obviously a great deal more than that, because her face had run the gamut of emotions starting with wonder, moving through anger, and thence to tears. Liz was dying to ask, but decided to wait until they came back, and everyone was here. Speaking of everyone, Kyle and Isabel should be arriving any minute, along with Amy, whom Maria had called.
Instead of pacing she tried to find something to do. Tracking Brody down she asked, "Brody, can I borrow some time online from you? I want to check my e-mail."
He nodded. "Go ahead; I have a private satellite uplink. Just click on the browser of your choice and go."
Seating herself in Brody's chair she brought up Explorer and checked Hotmail before going to AOL. Opening her e-mail account she went down the list deleting spam until she was left with one personal e-mail from a friend in an online science group, seventeen from a mailing list that she belonged to, and one from an anonymous remailer that had no subject line. She was tempted to delete it. Viruses could sneak in that way. But her curiosity got the better of her. "Brody!?" she shouted. "Just how good is your virus protection?!"
Half a second later Brody's head swung around the door frame. "Top of the line MacAfee, it updates every few days. Why? Got a hot one?"
Liz frowned. "I don't know. We'll see in a minute. Thanks." She moved the mouse and clicked, as Brody went back to work.
As it turned out, he needn't have bothered, because the siren-like shriek from the office a moment later drew him back at a dead run, with Maria a scant footstep behind him. They arrived to find Liz gaping at the computer screen. When she saw them she didn't wait for their questions, she simply rotated the screen and let them read it themselves. After that, Brody had to find a place sit down.... while the girls alternated laughter and tears, hugging each other for all they were worth as hope renewed and returning fear warred within them.
The 'message in a bottle' had arrived.
Sheriff Valenti's SUV approaching the UFO Center....Same Time
The sonar team had headed back to the archeological dig that they were calling home after their equipment was broken down and stowed back in their truck, leaving Jim, Max, and Michael to head back to town. They'd just made the turn onto Main Street when it hit. Max sat up straight as the tidal wave of emotion poured through the connection and into his mind. Liz's thoughts were normally so organized, even under pressure, but this was an uncontrolled emotional hurricane from which he could make no sense at all. Max glanced over at Michael and saw that he was on full alert as well. Max uttered one word..."Maria?"
It was enough. Michael nodded frantically.
Max leaned forward. "Floor it Jim, something's happening at the UFO Center."
Valenti didn't hesitate. The engine roared as his foot crushed the gas pedal for the last hundred yards. He slowed abruptly and, with tires hissing on wet pavement, turned into the alley next to The Center. The storm was still in full swing, so there was no one to wonder at his frantic driving. Max and Michael were out of the SUV before it had stopped rolling. Jim delayed long enough to put it in park and kill the engine. Then he too thundered down the stairs in their wake, with his hand on the butt of his gun. He arrived in Brody's office to find Max and Michael being swarmed over by two incoherently loud girls. Looking frantically around for some source for their upset he spotted a bemused looking Brody sitting in his office chair, staring at his computer screen.
"Brody?" Jim queried. Getting no response he snapped his fingers in front of Brody's face. Brody jumped and finally noticed him. Giving him a 'When did you get here?' look, Brody rotated the screen back around so that Jim could read it. He had to read it twice to be sure that he understood it. "Sonofabitch," he said softly. "I was right. That skip trace *was* an effort to get information." Any further thoughts were disrupted by a piercing whistle from the door. Jim spun to see Amy DeLuca lowering her fingers from her mouth.
Amy had walked into the pandemonium and been unable to garner any sense from the girls, or to attract anyone else's attention. Hence, she was somewhat annoyed. Looking at Maria she said, "Honey, I'd like to think that this is an engagement celebration, but somehow I doubt it."
Michael chuckled. "Don't look at me Amy, or Max. We've been trying to get some sense out of them ourselves." His sentence ended in a grunt as his future wife indelicately planted a dainty but sharp elbow in his short ribs.
"Amy, let the kids handle it themselves," said Jim. "But if you want to know what started this, step over here and read it," he added as he gestured at the computer screen.
While the two couples were having a rapid exchange of information via a medium all their own, Amy walked over and read. After everything that had happened, she felt like there was nothing that could take her by surprise. She was wrong. Hence, only a moment later, she was giving Jim Valenti an enthusiastic hug.
By that time the information sharing was complete between the two couples, and the boys had stepped up to read it themselves.
"Did you notice the tone of it?" Max tossed out the question. "It's like he hasn't seen or talked to Isabel at all. Not at all the way he'd write if she were dream walking him. Or more specifically if he *remembered* her dream walking him."
Maria frowned. "You think that the red head put a mind warp on him too?"
Max nodded. "He wrote to Liz. Given what we know about his and Isabel's recent history, in his shoes, I'd have written Isabel. No, I'd say that his memory has been stomped."
"Whose memory?" came Isabel's voice from the vicinity of the office door.
They turned as one to find Kyle supporting a disheveled looking Isabel through the door.
Michael, ever tactless, said, "Good God Isabel, you look like crap. What the hell is going on?"
"I love you too Michael, but I asked my question first. Whose memory has been stomped?" When no answer was immediately forthcoming she glared. "The time for secrets is past." She looked directly at Max. "You said that there'd be a meeting tonight, and that I'd get my answers." She paused. "Now, this isn't a hard question, since you *all* seem to know the answer...... whose memory?"
Max caught everyone's eye, one by one, taking a silent poll. Affirmative nods, and shrugs. No shaken heads. They were leaving it up to him. Curiously enough, one of the yes votes had been Michael's. "Will wonders never cease," Max thought silently and felt Liz's mental giggle echo in their connection.
With looking at his soul mate he said, "~Do you want the honors? You and Maria were the first ones that she told. If not, I'll handle it.~"
"~I'll take it, Sweetheart~," Liz answered softly. "~And Max?~"
"~Yes~," he responded.
She nuzzled him affectionately through the connection. "~Thank you for trusting me with it.~" With that she damped her end of the connection, leaving her free to focus on what she was doing. Thankfully the exchange had taken only a moment, thus Liz was able to answer Isabel before her frayed temper could snap completely.
"It's Alex's memory Isabel," she said calmly. "We think that he's been mind warped."
Isabel frowned, trying to grasp what Liz was saying. "You mean he *was* mind warped....before he...died," she finished with a hitch. Something caused a frisson trace up her back. Whether it was sorrow, fear, or anticipation, she couldn't tell.
Liz shook her head. "No, I don't mean past tense. I mean present tense, as in, right now, because he's alive, Isabel."
Isabel turned pale. "That's not possible. He's dead. Max saw him. We all saw him." She paused and drew a calming breath. "How do you know?"
Liz glanced around at the others. "We have a variety of proofs and deductions to go on, but our main evidence is from an unimpeachable source."
"*WHO?!* Isabel demanded again. "So help me God, if this is someone's idea of a sick joke...!"
Liz shook her head again. "It was you. You told us yourself that he was alive."
The Schulthiss Factory Yard........7:22 PM
Rafe Conterras felt the buzz and stopped to catch his wind. "Just for making me work this hard," he thought, "I'm going the make that stupid little pendejo suffer before I kill him!" The Whitman kid had led him a merry chase, but his patience had finally exhausted the little cabrone and caused him to take refuge in this abandoned building. It would take him a little while to track the kid down, but the fact that he'd stopped running and holed up said that he was at the end of his rope. So Rafe went forward with all confidence in another easy Quickening to add to the collection.
After finding his way through the fence, spotting the lose flap after a frustrating search, he opted for a straight line approach. That open door on the factory building would have looked like manna from heaven to an exhausted newbie. Approaching the door he leaned in and listened. Not a sound. The buzz told him that the punk was here, but not where.
Deciding to have a little fun, he called out. "Yoo Hoo! Little conejo?! Where are you??!" No answer. "Well, I guess I'll have to come and fi-i-ind you." Conterras stepped in the door, and within the range of Alex's 'party favor'.
They were simple little devices really, about half the size of a pack of cigarettes. They had a modest little magnet in them. When you affixed them to a metallic surface a switch on the underside activated a tiny digital timer that ran only a few seconds. Just long enough for you to get out of range. After the timer ran out a motion sensor became active. Once that happened, you couldn't get near it without tripping the device. The payloads varied. Shrill electronic whistles. Flash/bang charges. There were simple firecrackers, single and powerful, or multiple and weak. One thing that they all had in common was that, unless you were very, very unlucky, they couldn't hurt you seriously.
But they could sure annoy the hell out of you.
Conterras' world became one of momentary bright light and loud noise. He howled and scrubbed at his eyes, blinking away spots. Cursing vilely he staggered and leaned against the lathe, waiting for his vision to return. *Now* he was pissed off. "So this is how you want it, eh cabroncito?" he shouted. "So be it. When I catch you, you'll regret the day you were whelped!"
From his vantage point Alex chuckled silently to himself. As soon as the buzz had come he'd slipped on dark glasses. True, they hampered his vision in the dimly moonlit factory building, but they'd kept him from being flash blinded too. "Note to self," he thought silently, "the next time, if there *is* a next time...set them up in pairs. The chances are good that the victim will stumble into the second one while suffering from the effects of the first one."
He lay up in his aerie, watching as Conterras quartered the factory, stumbling into eight more surprise packages before reaching the materials storage area. By the time he walked past Alex's stack of lumber and around the corner he was jittery as hell and howling mad, which was exactly how Alex wanted him to be feeling. Alex was still scared to death, but somehow his training was letting him maintain a feeling of detachment from his fear. To him, at this moment, it was just another stimulus, to be measured, and acknowledged. And it had no impact on what he knew he was going to have to do.
For his part Conterras past being angry. He was in a frothing rage. Child's pranks! Toys! That's what these were. This newbie was making a fool of him. By the time he located the Whitman brat he'd be too angry to waste time playing. He'd simply kill the little puke, and put this whole unpleasant episode behind him.
Of course, Conterras never registered the fact that, if Alex Whitman was making a fool of him, then there was no reason to imagine that Alex Whitman couldn't go *on* making a fool of him, indefinitely
Thus it was that he blundered around the corner into the next to the last flash charge from Alex's toy collection. His howl of impotent rage drown out the noise as Alex leapt from the top of the pile to land more or less in the center of the open area within the raw materials storage. It was about sixty feet across. It had been intended as a turnaround for forklifts moving materials. Now it was an arena, lighted by the silvery glow of a full moon coming through the windows and skylights.
By the time that Alex rolled to his feet and regained his balance, Conterras was blinking away tears and spots enough to see him. Alex stood under his glare and waited. Taking off his duster and freeing his saber, he grinned. "Looking for me? Or should I say, 'What's up Doc?' One 'rabbit boy' at your disposal, Baby Killer. Shall we dance?"
Conterras shrugged off his own coat and drew his own sword. "Little boy, you've been far more trouble than you're worth, you know that?"
Alex grinned. "My mother always said that nothing worthwhile comes easy."
Conterras cocked his head. "If I'd had a mother...and if she'd said something *that* stupid... I'd have cut her throat for her while she slept. Too bad that I never met yours," he said, trying to bait Alex.
"That's for sure," Alex said, never losing his grin, "because she could have kicked *your* sorry ass with one hand tied behind her back...then I wouldn't have to deal with you."
"Aye, and perhaps even true, but"..... Conterras moved, launching an overhand slash that should kill any inexperienced newbie..."you *do* have to deal with me."
Alex evaded the slash. And the death fight began.
Still Yours (HLDR,XO,CC,ADULT) [WIP]
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Kzinti_Killer
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Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Sat Feb 25, 2006 7:42 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
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Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 16c
(Hide and Seek)
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center....7:25 PM
Isabel frowned at the assembled group. "Okay, I'm lost here...I....."
***FLASH***
She was in the rainy parking lot again, caught in that moment before she had been yanked out the first time around. And once again, there was a brief glimpse of familiarity. It was......
***END FLASH***
"Isabel?!" came several voices.
She was aware that she had staggered, and would have fallen had Kyle not already been supporting her. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she wondered. Her feelings of fear were increasing again, and she was starting to feel her fight or flight instincts kick in, the instinct to run, or to lash out. But she was too disoriented to act on them. Max immediately took her other arm, and then he and Kyle walked her over to the office couch and made her lie down.
Liz turned to Brody. "Print that e-mail off, will you? I'm going to need it shortly." Walking over to the couch, she perched on the edge next to Isabel. "Iz? Look at me?!" When Isabel's eyes remained vacant, Liz slapped her...causing the people in the office to stir.
*That* got Isabel's attention. She looked furious, which, in Liz's estimation, was better than being a zombie. "Isabel! You've got to focus. Alex is alive, and I think that what you're feeling is emotional backlash from what *he's* feeling." Liz paused. "What happened to you just now?"
Isabel tried to focus on Liz, and on the pain in her cheek. Liz had said that these weren't her feelings. Steeling herself she forced her panic down. "I had a flash earlier tonight, and a part of it just repeated. There were three men with weapons, confronting each other in a rainy wet parking lot. One of them was familiar." She paused. "You said that *I* told you about Alex being alive?"
Liz glanced at Maria. "I don't think that we have a lot of time here, so I'll be brief. Some days ago you accidentally dream walked Alex. As impossible as that sounds, I believe it. Anyway, you kept it a secret, and after several repeated dream walks you broke down and told Maria and I. That was the night before last. And you were going back into his dreams yet again that night. Then, the next morning, you couldn't remember a thing. Not about finding Alex, or the dream walks, or even telling us about it. Do you remember walking into the kitchen and finding me there....and wondering what I was doing there?" When Isabel nodded yes, she went on..."Well, *I* was wondering just what the hell happened to your memory of current events."
Isabel frowned, trying to maintain her train of thought as she began to shiver. Brody noticed and dug into a closet to produce some blankets, which Max covered Isabel with. Looking around the office at the faces of the group, she saw that they believed what Liz was saying. She remembered that conversation with Liz, and the odd flavor it had had. Now she was beginning to understand why. "You think that I was mind warped?"
Liz nodded.
Isabel was still shivering in spite of the blankets. "You said that there was other proof?" she asked.
Liz nodded again. "There were some mind warps that we've broken through recently."
Isabel nodded herself. "The Max and Tess thing."
"Yes," Liz acknowledged, "that was the main part of it. But there was more. Including a warp in my head that Tess didn't put there. One involving the people that may have Alex."
"That red head," Michael chimed in.
Liz glanced at him. "What about her?"
Michael gave her a grim smile. "I think that I could draw her from memory now."
Liz raised an eyebrow, looking so 'astonished Vulcan' that Michael had to laugh. As soon as his laughter faded, he went on. "Isabel, tonight Max and I... and some people that Brody hired, checked out Alex's grave... I want to apologize to you right now, because we had it from *you*, through Liz and Maria, that it should be empty. And I thought that you were nuts... and said so." Michael grimaced. "Anyway, the first thing is, it's empty. The second thing will be news to everyone here, but Maria. I got a flash off of Alex's head stone when I touched it, several flashes in fact. These people *took* him. I saw it and them, including that red headed woman. They dug him out of the ground, he resisted them, then she cracked him over the head with a shovel, then they stuffed him in their car and left."
Isabel was stunned, to say the least, but this incredibly creepy feeling began to overwhelm her. It was a conviction that they were right. The next thing was anger. Someone had stripped her of her memory, of a piece of herself. She was still being assaulted internally by feelings that weren't hers, but her mind was beginning to separate cause from effect. She was regaining control. She looked back up at Liz. "Was there anything else? If there is, then tell me the rest of it. Because, if these feelings I'm getting aren't mine, then Alex is in trouble."
"Isabel, you don't know that half of it." Without looking, Liz reached back over her shoulder. Brody thrust a piece of paper into her hand, and Liz presented it to Isabel. She had to read it once, twice, a third time for it to sink in. Her fear returned...and this time it was *her* fear. The man with a scar......
Everyone gasped as Isabel's body stiffened.....then she convulsed.
***FLASH***
That rain swept parking lot again....*a bus station*! Now she knew that it was a bus station!
The handsome man with the ugly scar, was speaking. "You got lucky cabroncito. Had the bus been a few minutes later those passengers would have been greeted by your headless corpse."
The other man with Alex was answering. "You know the rules. He's my student. To challenge him you have to get through me first."
Scarface was answering. "Ah, but you have to be there to take the challenge MacLeod. And you can't be everywhere at once. In fact I have it on good authority that it won't be too long before you aren't anywhere at all. Sooner or later I'll shorten him. Why make this hard? Look after your own life." He looked at Alex. "What do you say you introduce me to that chica that was at your parents funeral in Nueva Mejico? What was her name? Isabel? Ai! What a girl! Don't worry cabroncito I promise that after I finish with you, I'll put a smile on her face that will last her the rest of her life! Which, come to think of it, shouldn't be more than a few minutes after I'm done with her."
***FLASH***
Conterras was speaking again to the other man. "No no my friend. I make it a policy never to do things the hard way. That honorable combat crap is not for me! All I have to do is be patient. As I said, you have problems enough. Sooner or later this child will be mine. Until then I bid you good chances." Then he turned to address Alex with a grin. "One thing cabroncito? Is she your sister...or your girlfriend? I like to know who I'm ravishing."
Alex trying to go for his throat as his companion held him back......
***END FLASH***
Isabel came to with the feeling of a cold compress on her forehead. Instead of feeling soothing, it simply felt clammy. She pushed it off and sat up. Everyone was still there, and she was still clutching the print out in her hand. "How long was I out?"
"Three minutes," said Brody. "I timed it." He paused. "What just happened there?"
Isabel stood and handed Brody the e-mail back. "I had a flash of sorts. Usually, with us, flashes are like photographs. Little bits of action captured by an object and released when we touch it. This wasn't that. I think it was a piece of memory trying to surface. And not *my* memory at that! I saw the man described in that e-mail confronting Alex... he was loathsome, dangerous, and ugly. I heard what he said! If Alex is going after him tonight I....." she broke off.
As everyone watched Isabel whimpered and clutched her arm to her chest. As she sagged, Jim Valenti caught her and helped her back to the couch.
Liz knelt and tried to pry Isabel's arm out where she could see it. "Isabel, what is it?"
"Pain," she answered through clenched teeth. "Like nothing I've ever felt in my life. It's like my arm wants to fall off.... or *has* fallen off!"
Max knelt urgently and forced his sister's hand away from her arm. There was nothing there, no wound or mark. And he could sense nothing hidden.
Isabel batted his hand away weakly and ineffectually. "You don't understand!" she gasped through ragged panting. "I don't think that it's *my* pain! It's...." She broke off as a leaden claw gripped her side and dug in. For lack of a better description, the agony literally took her breath away, but not for long. As the pain twisted and clenched, she found her breath again...then she doubled up and used it to scream.
The Abandoned Schulthiss Factory Yard.........7:42 PM
Duncan screeched to a halt outside the fence. He would have been there a hell of a lot quicker if it hadn't been for that damned freight train! The slow moving freight had stopped him a half mile short of his goal and held him there. When the creeping train had finally cleared the crossing, he'd jumped the line and run the gates before they could even come up, causing drivers going in both directions to honk their horns with impotent fury. He sympathized, but he really didn't give a damn.
Leaping from the motorcycle he paused only long enough to set the kick stand and snatch the keys before ducking under the fence and heading for the main building. He'd felt the buzz from outside the fence. He could only hope that he wasn't too late...and that the combatants would be so busy that the buzz of his arrival would go unnoticed. Entering the building he heard the clash of steel on steel mixed with imprecations in Spanish. MacLeod smiled grimly. If Conterras' cursing were to be believed, then Duncan's protégé was proving to be a tougher nut to crack than Conterras had expected. Duncan shucked his coat and drew his katana. He began to move stealthily down one wall of the factory, intending to circle behind the combatants. Depending on the circumstances that he found, he might even permit Alex to finish out the fight. Unfortunately for Duncan he was only halfway there when he ran into one of Alex's remaining booby traps, a flash charge. Quietly cursing a blue streak, Duncan was still trying to get his vision back when he realized that silence had fallen in the combat area
Inside The Schulthiss Factory Building....a short time earlier.
At first Conterras had tried all out aggression to beat Alex down, to scare him into freezing up. Conterras had gone at him, hacking and slashing like the butcher that he was, while Alex wove, danced, and parried. Rafe was losing patience now. This slippery little cabrone was proving to a little more skilled than the usual sort of sheep that he was accustomed to killing. He would have to end this soon, or give it up. An extended duel was not his forte. He hadn't the patience, nor did he believe that he had to stamina to outlast this boy. He began trying for position. He was maneuvering his opponent so that, when the time was right, a rush would pin him up with no room to move.
Alex on the other hand was somewhat surprised, on several levels. This was his first real fight, and he was still alive. Was he really that good? Or was it that Conterras was simply *not* that good? They were fairly evenly matched, though Conterras still had the edge in guile and experience. He didn't fight that much, but he *had* fought some. Which was more than Alex had done. And, never one to fool himself, he acknowledged that, Conterras was still potentially his better. By the same token, Alex thought that he could outlast his opponent.
Which simply goes to show you exactly how over-confidence can get you killed. Because outlasting your opponent requires him to do nothing that ends the fight sooner.
Alex was starting to settle into a rhythm when Conterras did something jarring. He launched what Alex thought was another feint, but when Alex responded by backing away he felt something hard and unyielding poke him in the back, checking his movement. He should have had a good six feet between himself and the end of the lumber pile behind his back however he'd forgotten that the ends were uneven. And Conterras had chivvied him into a position against a board that stuck out three feet past the end of it's stack, thus cutting his room to maneuver.
The momentary surprise was all that Conterras needed. He rushed Alex in a straight lunge, his blade extended to impale. Alex tried to parry as he rolled to the right, but only succeeded in minimizing the damage. Conterras' blade executed a clean, deep, and painful slice along the length of Alex's forearm, which began to bleed heavily. It was his sword arm no less. In a twinkling the balance had shifted. True, serious wounds would heal rapidly. But this one was bad enough that the blood loss would begin to hamper Alex quickly. Conterras could now afford to wait... because the wait would only be a few minutes at most before the boy collapsed from blood loss.
Alex had only seconds to consider what to do. In that instant, one of the remaining flash charges detonated. It was too far away to impede their vision, but similar toys had harmed Conterras enough to make him blink. And, more importantly, it made him pause. In a frozen moment Alex saw what had to happen with crystal clarity. This had to end within the next few minutes, or it wouldn't end well for him. To do that, he had to trap Conterras' sword, otherwise the bastard would simply wait until Alex started making mistakes. "Then he'll pick one and use it to kill me," Alex thought as they continued their game of cat and mouse. "Well, if it's a mistake that he's waiting for, I'll make it now...while I still have some strength left to keep him from exploiting it." So thinking, before the flash had died completely, moving in a blur, he leapt.....
Having recovered enough, Duncan arrived on the scene a few moments later, and stood in the shadows, regarding the scene before him in disbelief. Conterras was down, on his back, still gripping his sword...which was imbedded in Alex's side, and projecting out his back. Alex's own sword was pressed firmly against Conterras throat. Alex's saber was sharp from tip to hilt on one side, but on the other side only the forward eight inches were sharp. Alex took full advantage of that dull edge by leaning forward with his forearm on it. If Conterras so much as swallowed too hard, he'd be breathing without a windpipe.
"Ay, a standoff, mi hijo," Conterras whispered.
"No it isn't, and you know it," Alex hissed through gritted teeth, as he struggled against the pain. Black spots were dancing at the edges of his vision as his system flirted with shock. "And if you try to twist that sword just one more time, it's over *now*.
Conterras was silent a moment, then he gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. "Or you'll what? Kill me? You already should have by now, conejo. You'll never be one of us. You don't have the cojones for it. Too bad about your girl, she would have enjoyed me more than...."
Alex howled as his rage overcame him and he rolled, dragging his blade across Conterras throat. The cut was ragged and deep... and very fatal. As Alex had rolled, Conterras' sword had been pulled to the side with him. Now he summoned his remaining strength and crabbed backwards, pulling the blade the rest of the way free. He dragged himself over to a lumber pile and pulled himself erect, using his saber as support. He stood there, clutching his side and swaying as he surveyed the bloody wreck that was Rafe Conterras. "Good God," he thought. "Who knew that there would be so much blood?"
"Well Alex," said Duncan from the shadows, "you've certainly paid your dues. Now it's time to join the club for good." He paused. "Finish it."
Alex squinted into the shadowed darkness between the stacks of lumber. "Duncan?"
MacLeod stepped out into the silvery moonlight. "Finish it Alex, before he heals, or you'll just have to do this all over again. There is no half-time or time-out in this game. Here, if you fumble, you die. And to score a touchdown, someone else has to die." Duncan sighed and pointed. "He's already recovering. He goaded you, hoping that you'd be so glad to escape with your life, that you wouldn't have the stomach for the finale."
Alex looked down at Conterras' body and saw the flickering glow of blue energy as torn flesh began to knit itself back together. His gorge began to rise. Whether it was at the thought of what he had to do...or what he had already done, he didn't know or have time to guess. But he didn't let it stop him. He took his hand from his torn side and gripped his sword two handed as firmly as he could, then he tottered forward lifting his saber overhead.
As Duncan turned and walked away, he heard the words as Alex spoke in hoarse and ragged tones.
"There can be only one!" spoken together with the distinct whistling sound of the blade's passage through air, and final impact.
MacLeod was already outside when The Quickening began.
Roswell, New Mexico, The UFO Center.....7:54 PM
The worst seemed to be past. Isabel could feel Liz's hands soothing her head as they stroked her hair and she slowly uncurled as the pain subsided. There was still a dull throbbing ache, but it was nothing like it had been.
"Izzy? Are you all right?" her brother asked, looking seriously worried.
With Liz and Maria's help, Isabel sat up and tried to take stock. Her side still ached, her brain probably couldn't add two plus two and get the same answer twice, and her senses were still getting mixed signals. "I'm fine Max, I'm still on planet earth." She glanced at a worried Liz and smiled weakly. "Really, I feel about half-human... but that's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?"
Everyone gave a half-hearted chuckle at Isabel's weak attempt at humor. Then Maria voiced what was in the back of everyone's mind. "Isabel, if all that was from Alex, now that it's stopped do you think...?"
"That he's dead?" she finished. "No, I don't. If I'm connected to him enough to know his emotions and feel his pain, then I'd know if he were dead I think, it would be," ......her voice trailed off distantly.
The hair on the back of everyone's neck stood up as the air in the room seemed to darken, and become heavy and pregnant with potential.
Michael, who was already on edge due to recent events, began looking around frantically for a threat that he could sense approaching, but not *see*. "Isabel?" he queried.
Amy could feel it too, as if the air was becoming too thick to breathe, and she glanced around at the worried faces and muttered." Now what?" as she stepped closer to the comforting presence of Jim Valenti.
Far away, and yet not so far away, on another plane, the dim suppressed flickering energy in the cable that bound two souls together flared into incandescent blinding blue white light as a dreadful payload moved through it, bound from one soul to the other. Isabel stood mute, transfixed by sheer might and majesty of what she sensed was coming.... and then it arrived. A tidal wave of sensation and energy roared into her heart, mind, and soul. The pain that it brought with it was so exquisite that it bordered on pleasure as Isabel Evans became the first non-Immortal in history to experience a Quickening, if only by proxy.
To her friends and family she appeared to be standing rigid, feet apart, hands clenched at her sides, her eyes rolled back in her head, with a faint keening issuing from her throat. Fine, almost invisible, cob web fingers of blue light were dancing in her hair and along the length or her body, like a filmy ephemeral cocoon. The static charge in the room increased a hundred fold. All of them were uncomfortable as electrical potential tickled their nerve endings. There were a series of 'pops' as the breakers on electrical equipment began to cut loose. Max tried to touch his sister, but she was now a living capacitor and the resulting energy discharge knocked him backwards into Kyle Valenti's arms. Lose papers were starting to stir as a convection current began to move within the room.
Everyone backed away expectantly as the feeling of muted power continued to build, until it had to find an outlet.
In a final tremendous surge that flared off of Isabel like a corona, sweeping outward in a wave...it expressed itself as a shared vision. In a dark place a young man was on his knees, his head thrown back in ecstatic abandon, his mouth open in an unheard scream, his arms flung wide in apparent supplication, as malign lightnings crackled and danced around, over, and through him.
Then it was over. As quickly as if someone had thrown a switch, the energy ceased to flow, and it's vessel collapsed in a heap before anyone could move to prevent it. Max and Liz were the first ones to emerge from their daze, and together they managed to get a spent Isabel back on the couch, and covered in blankets, for her skin was like ice. Brody emerged from his stupor next. Joining Max and Liz he was shocked by the clammy feel to Isabel's skin. He judged that she was close to going into shock, something that had been unheard of for the alien hybrids... until now.
While Max strove to balance her vital signs, Brody took the old fashioned route, warm water with a mild solution of soda and salt. And as an afterthought, a generous needling of Tabasco from a small bottle that he kept around for his friends. Mixing a cup he had Liz take it, and while he tilted Isabel's head, Liz carefully administered small amounts to the unconscious girl. Not enough to cause her to choke, but enough apparently to do some good, as Isabel's color began to improve.
Slowly, one by one, the others in the room stirred and began to move.
"What was that?" Amy asked. "I-I saw Alex...somewhere."
Jim nodded. "So did I."
"I think it must have been Isabel relaying to us through her connection to him," Michael said, from where he stood holding Maria. "What I want to know is, just what was that energy coming from. None of us ever generated anything on *that* order." Then he jumped as Maria surreptitiously pinched him.
"~How soon you forget, Spaceboy,~" came her tart remark.
"~I haven't forgotten Pixie, but do *you* wanna be the one to tell your mother and almost father about the possibility that our lovemaking can now be measured on the Richter scale?~" he replied.
Maria didn't have a chance to respond, because a sputtering cough from the direction of the couch drew their attention. *cough* "Qiknggg!" *cough* *cough* *cough*
Jim had joined the group at the couch and, together with Brody, he hoisted a shuddering and coughing Isabel upright, and then he deftly swatted her on the back. The coughing fit subsided and she fell back limply her strength exhausted...but conscious now. Liz offered her a sip from the cup, and she accepted it. Laying back down she sighed and chewed briefly at her lower lip, then she addressed Michael in a faint somewhat raspy voice. "I think that it's what he called 'The Quickening'."
"He?" asked a now hopeful Maria.
Isabel smiled weakly. "Alex. Yes Maria, I remember now. All of it." She closed her eyes. "I'd managed to bully what I think was most of the truth out of him that night." A tear welled up and leaked down her cheek. "The Quickening is what happens when one of Alex's kind dies."
Ever skeptical, Michael frowned. "Alex's 'kind'? What 'kind' do you mean? He's human."
Maria glared at him, but said nothing, letting their connection do the talking. Now was not the time to play Doubting Thomas.
However, Isabel wasn't put off in the slightest. She shook her head slightly... which was all that she had the energy for. On the plus side, when she spoke, her voice was starting to lose the rasp and firm up. "He's no more human than we are Michael. He never was. It was only protective coloration I think, to let him blend in."
Jim gave her hand a squeeze then got up and out of the way to give her air. "I think that you'd better explain that."
Isabel kept her eyes closed and spoke softly. She was terribly tired. "He told me that it's been going on since before recorded history. So say The Watchers. They're an organization of normal humans that goes back thousands of years. Their sole mission in life is to chronicle the life of each individual of Alex's race, or species...or whatever you want to call it. Everywhere that one of Alex's kind goes, there will be one or more Watchers following and recording.
Max wore a puzzled look.. "Recording what, Isabel?"
Isabel opened her eyes and studied her brother. "How they live. How they fight. How they die."
"None of which tells us what 'they' are," prodded Michael.
Isabel sighed wearily and went on. "'They don't know, Michael. Even The Watchers haven't a clue. It's as if they've always been there."
Jim cleared his throat. "Er, Isabel, from the sound of it these Watchers are quite a secret society. As such, it wouldn't be a good idea for their.... er.... subjects to know about them. How did Alex come to know?
Isabel gave a weak laugh. "Alex said that there's a no fraternization rule. But it turns out that the head of the North American Watchers is something of a maverick who had made friends with Alex's mentor a long time ago. I don't know the whole story...yet."
Jim absorbed the information thoughtfully, and then indicated that she should go on.
Isabel took a sip of the water that Liz was still holding for her, then she continued. "Alex said that there are never more than a few thousand alive in the entire world, at any given time. They come into the world as abandoned babies, foundlings. There are no biological parents that anyone has ever been able to find. They live and grow up human, completely ignorant of what they are...until they die."
Amy was listening with rapt attention. "And that's it?"
Isabel sighed. "No, that's just the beginning."
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 16c
(Hide and Seek)
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center....7:25 PM
Isabel frowned at the assembled group. "Okay, I'm lost here...I....."
***FLASH***
She was in the rainy parking lot again, caught in that moment before she had been yanked out the first time around. And once again, there was a brief glimpse of familiarity. It was......
***END FLASH***
"Isabel?!" came several voices.
She was aware that she had staggered, and would have fallen had Kyle not already been supporting her. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she wondered. Her feelings of fear were increasing again, and she was starting to feel her fight or flight instincts kick in, the instinct to run, or to lash out. But she was too disoriented to act on them. Max immediately took her other arm, and then he and Kyle walked her over to the office couch and made her lie down.
Liz turned to Brody. "Print that e-mail off, will you? I'm going to need it shortly." Walking over to the couch, she perched on the edge next to Isabel. "Iz? Look at me?!" When Isabel's eyes remained vacant, Liz slapped her...causing the people in the office to stir.
*That* got Isabel's attention. She looked furious, which, in Liz's estimation, was better than being a zombie. "Isabel! You've got to focus. Alex is alive, and I think that what you're feeling is emotional backlash from what *he's* feeling." Liz paused. "What happened to you just now?"
Isabel tried to focus on Liz, and on the pain in her cheek. Liz had said that these weren't her feelings. Steeling herself she forced her panic down. "I had a flash earlier tonight, and a part of it just repeated. There were three men with weapons, confronting each other in a rainy wet parking lot. One of them was familiar." She paused. "You said that *I* told you about Alex being alive?"
Liz glanced at Maria. "I don't think that we have a lot of time here, so I'll be brief. Some days ago you accidentally dream walked Alex. As impossible as that sounds, I believe it. Anyway, you kept it a secret, and after several repeated dream walks you broke down and told Maria and I. That was the night before last. And you were going back into his dreams yet again that night. Then, the next morning, you couldn't remember a thing. Not about finding Alex, or the dream walks, or even telling us about it. Do you remember walking into the kitchen and finding me there....and wondering what I was doing there?" When Isabel nodded yes, she went on..."Well, *I* was wondering just what the hell happened to your memory of current events."
Isabel frowned, trying to maintain her train of thought as she began to shiver. Brody noticed and dug into a closet to produce some blankets, which Max covered Isabel with. Looking around the office at the faces of the group, she saw that they believed what Liz was saying. She remembered that conversation with Liz, and the odd flavor it had had. Now she was beginning to understand why. "You think that I was mind warped?"
Liz nodded.
Isabel was still shivering in spite of the blankets. "You said that there was other proof?" she asked.
Liz nodded again. "There were some mind warps that we've broken through recently."
Isabel nodded herself. "The Max and Tess thing."
"Yes," Liz acknowledged, "that was the main part of it. But there was more. Including a warp in my head that Tess didn't put there. One involving the people that may have Alex."
"That red head," Michael chimed in.
Liz glanced at him. "What about her?"
Michael gave her a grim smile. "I think that I could draw her from memory now."
Liz raised an eyebrow, looking so 'astonished Vulcan' that Michael had to laugh. As soon as his laughter faded, he went on. "Isabel, tonight Max and I... and some people that Brody hired, checked out Alex's grave... I want to apologize to you right now, because we had it from *you*, through Liz and Maria, that it should be empty. And I thought that you were nuts... and said so." Michael grimaced. "Anyway, the first thing is, it's empty. The second thing will be news to everyone here, but Maria. I got a flash off of Alex's head stone when I touched it, several flashes in fact. These people *took* him. I saw it and them, including that red headed woman. They dug him out of the ground, he resisted them, then she cracked him over the head with a shovel, then they stuffed him in their car and left."
Isabel was stunned, to say the least, but this incredibly creepy feeling began to overwhelm her. It was a conviction that they were right. The next thing was anger. Someone had stripped her of her memory, of a piece of herself. She was still being assaulted internally by feelings that weren't hers, but her mind was beginning to separate cause from effect. She was regaining control. She looked back up at Liz. "Was there anything else? If there is, then tell me the rest of it. Because, if these feelings I'm getting aren't mine, then Alex is in trouble."
"Isabel, you don't know that half of it." Without looking, Liz reached back over her shoulder. Brody thrust a piece of paper into her hand, and Liz presented it to Isabel. She had to read it once, twice, a third time for it to sink in. Her fear returned...and this time it was *her* fear. The man with a scar......
Everyone gasped as Isabel's body stiffened.....then she convulsed.
***FLASH***
That rain swept parking lot again....*a bus station*! Now she knew that it was a bus station!
The handsome man with the ugly scar, was speaking. "You got lucky cabroncito. Had the bus been a few minutes later those passengers would have been greeted by your headless corpse."
The other man with Alex was answering. "You know the rules. He's my student. To challenge him you have to get through me first."
Scarface was answering. "Ah, but you have to be there to take the challenge MacLeod. And you can't be everywhere at once. In fact I have it on good authority that it won't be too long before you aren't anywhere at all. Sooner or later I'll shorten him. Why make this hard? Look after your own life." He looked at Alex. "What do you say you introduce me to that chica that was at your parents funeral in Nueva Mejico? What was her name? Isabel? Ai! What a girl! Don't worry cabroncito I promise that after I finish with you, I'll put a smile on her face that will last her the rest of her life! Which, come to think of it, shouldn't be more than a few minutes after I'm done with her."
***FLASH***
Conterras was speaking again to the other man. "No no my friend. I make it a policy never to do things the hard way. That honorable combat crap is not for me! All I have to do is be patient. As I said, you have problems enough. Sooner or later this child will be mine. Until then I bid you good chances." Then he turned to address Alex with a grin. "One thing cabroncito? Is she your sister...or your girlfriend? I like to know who I'm ravishing."
Alex trying to go for his throat as his companion held him back......
***END FLASH***
Isabel came to with the feeling of a cold compress on her forehead. Instead of feeling soothing, it simply felt clammy. She pushed it off and sat up. Everyone was still there, and she was still clutching the print out in her hand. "How long was I out?"
"Three minutes," said Brody. "I timed it." He paused. "What just happened there?"
Isabel stood and handed Brody the e-mail back. "I had a flash of sorts. Usually, with us, flashes are like photographs. Little bits of action captured by an object and released when we touch it. This wasn't that. I think it was a piece of memory trying to surface. And not *my* memory at that! I saw the man described in that e-mail confronting Alex... he was loathsome, dangerous, and ugly. I heard what he said! If Alex is going after him tonight I....." she broke off.
As everyone watched Isabel whimpered and clutched her arm to her chest. As she sagged, Jim Valenti caught her and helped her back to the couch.
Liz knelt and tried to pry Isabel's arm out where she could see it. "Isabel, what is it?"
"Pain," she answered through clenched teeth. "Like nothing I've ever felt in my life. It's like my arm wants to fall off.... or *has* fallen off!"
Max knelt urgently and forced his sister's hand away from her arm. There was nothing there, no wound or mark. And he could sense nothing hidden.
Isabel batted his hand away weakly and ineffectually. "You don't understand!" she gasped through ragged panting. "I don't think that it's *my* pain! It's...." She broke off as a leaden claw gripped her side and dug in. For lack of a better description, the agony literally took her breath away, but not for long. As the pain twisted and clenched, she found her breath again...then she doubled up and used it to scream.
The Abandoned Schulthiss Factory Yard.........7:42 PM
Duncan screeched to a halt outside the fence. He would have been there a hell of a lot quicker if it hadn't been for that damned freight train! The slow moving freight had stopped him a half mile short of his goal and held him there. When the creeping train had finally cleared the crossing, he'd jumped the line and run the gates before they could even come up, causing drivers going in both directions to honk their horns with impotent fury. He sympathized, but he really didn't give a damn.
Leaping from the motorcycle he paused only long enough to set the kick stand and snatch the keys before ducking under the fence and heading for the main building. He'd felt the buzz from outside the fence. He could only hope that he wasn't too late...and that the combatants would be so busy that the buzz of his arrival would go unnoticed. Entering the building he heard the clash of steel on steel mixed with imprecations in Spanish. MacLeod smiled grimly. If Conterras' cursing were to be believed, then Duncan's protégé was proving to be a tougher nut to crack than Conterras had expected. Duncan shucked his coat and drew his katana. He began to move stealthily down one wall of the factory, intending to circle behind the combatants. Depending on the circumstances that he found, he might even permit Alex to finish out the fight. Unfortunately for Duncan he was only halfway there when he ran into one of Alex's remaining booby traps, a flash charge. Quietly cursing a blue streak, Duncan was still trying to get his vision back when he realized that silence had fallen in the combat area
Inside The Schulthiss Factory Building....a short time earlier.
At first Conterras had tried all out aggression to beat Alex down, to scare him into freezing up. Conterras had gone at him, hacking and slashing like the butcher that he was, while Alex wove, danced, and parried. Rafe was losing patience now. This slippery little cabrone was proving to a little more skilled than the usual sort of sheep that he was accustomed to killing. He would have to end this soon, or give it up. An extended duel was not his forte. He hadn't the patience, nor did he believe that he had to stamina to outlast this boy. He began trying for position. He was maneuvering his opponent so that, when the time was right, a rush would pin him up with no room to move.
Alex on the other hand was somewhat surprised, on several levels. This was his first real fight, and he was still alive. Was he really that good? Or was it that Conterras was simply *not* that good? They were fairly evenly matched, though Conterras still had the edge in guile and experience. He didn't fight that much, but he *had* fought some. Which was more than Alex had done. And, never one to fool himself, he acknowledged that, Conterras was still potentially his better. By the same token, Alex thought that he could outlast his opponent.
Which simply goes to show you exactly how over-confidence can get you killed. Because outlasting your opponent requires him to do nothing that ends the fight sooner.
Alex was starting to settle into a rhythm when Conterras did something jarring. He launched what Alex thought was another feint, but when Alex responded by backing away he felt something hard and unyielding poke him in the back, checking his movement. He should have had a good six feet between himself and the end of the lumber pile behind his back however he'd forgotten that the ends were uneven. And Conterras had chivvied him into a position against a board that stuck out three feet past the end of it's stack, thus cutting his room to maneuver.
The momentary surprise was all that Conterras needed. He rushed Alex in a straight lunge, his blade extended to impale. Alex tried to parry as he rolled to the right, but only succeeded in minimizing the damage. Conterras' blade executed a clean, deep, and painful slice along the length of Alex's forearm, which began to bleed heavily. It was his sword arm no less. In a twinkling the balance had shifted. True, serious wounds would heal rapidly. But this one was bad enough that the blood loss would begin to hamper Alex quickly. Conterras could now afford to wait... because the wait would only be a few minutes at most before the boy collapsed from blood loss.
Alex had only seconds to consider what to do. In that instant, one of the remaining flash charges detonated. It was too far away to impede their vision, but similar toys had harmed Conterras enough to make him blink. And, more importantly, it made him pause. In a frozen moment Alex saw what had to happen with crystal clarity. This had to end within the next few minutes, or it wouldn't end well for him. To do that, he had to trap Conterras' sword, otherwise the bastard would simply wait until Alex started making mistakes. "Then he'll pick one and use it to kill me," Alex thought as they continued their game of cat and mouse. "Well, if it's a mistake that he's waiting for, I'll make it now...while I still have some strength left to keep him from exploiting it." So thinking, before the flash had died completely, moving in a blur, he leapt.....
Having recovered enough, Duncan arrived on the scene a few moments later, and stood in the shadows, regarding the scene before him in disbelief. Conterras was down, on his back, still gripping his sword...which was imbedded in Alex's side, and projecting out his back. Alex's own sword was pressed firmly against Conterras throat. Alex's saber was sharp from tip to hilt on one side, but on the other side only the forward eight inches were sharp. Alex took full advantage of that dull edge by leaning forward with his forearm on it. If Conterras so much as swallowed too hard, he'd be breathing without a windpipe.
"Ay, a standoff, mi hijo," Conterras whispered.
"No it isn't, and you know it," Alex hissed through gritted teeth, as he struggled against the pain. Black spots were dancing at the edges of his vision as his system flirted with shock. "And if you try to twist that sword just one more time, it's over *now*.
Conterras was silent a moment, then he gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. "Or you'll what? Kill me? You already should have by now, conejo. You'll never be one of us. You don't have the cojones for it. Too bad about your girl, she would have enjoyed me more than...."
Alex howled as his rage overcame him and he rolled, dragging his blade across Conterras throat. The cut was ragged and deep... and very fatal. As Alex had rolled, Conterras' sword had been pulled to the side with him. Now he summoned his remaining strength and crabbed backwards, pulling the blade the rest of the way free. He dragged himself over to a lumber pile and pulled himself erect, using his saber as support. He stood there, clutching his side and swaying as he surveyed the bloody wreck that was Rafe Conterras. "Good God," he thought. "Who knew that there would be so much blood?"
"Well Alex," said Duncan from the shadows, "you've certainly paid your dues. Now it's time to join the club for good." He paused. "Finish it."
Alex squinted into the shadowed darkness between the stacks of lumber. "Duncan?"
MacLeod stepped out into the silvery moonlight. "Finish it Alex, before he heals, or you'll just have to do this all over again. There is no half-time or time-out in this game. Here, if you fumble, you die. And to score a touchdown, someone else has to die." Duncan sighed and pointed. "He's already recovering. He goaded you, hoping that you'd be so glad to escape with your life, that you wouldn't have the stomach for the finale."
Alex looked down at Conterras' body and saw the flickering glow of blue energy as torn flesh began to knit itself back together. His gorge began to rise. Whether it was at the thought of what he had to do...or what he had already done, he didn't know or have time to guess. But he didn't let it stop him. He took his hand from his torn side and gripped his sword two handed as firmly as he could, then he tottered forward lifting his saber overhead.
As Duncan turned and walked away, he heard the words as Alex spoke in hoarse and ragged tones.
"There can be only one!" spoken together with the distinct whistling sound of the blade's passage through air, and final impact.
MacLeod was already outside when The Quickening began.
Roswell, New Mexico, The UFO Center.....7:54 PM
The worst seemed to be past. Isabel could feel Liz's hands soothing her head as they stroked her hair and she slowly uncurled as the pain subsided. There was still a dull throbbing ache, but it was nothing like it had been.
"Izzy? Are you all right?" her brother asked, looking seriously worried.
With Liz and Maria's help, Isabel sat up and tried to take stock. Her side still ached, her brain probably couldn't add two plus two and get the same answer twice, and her senses were still getting mixed signals. "I'm fine Max, I'm still on planet earth." She glanced at a worried Liz and smiled weakly. "Really, I feel about half-human... but that's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?"
Everyone gave a half-hearted chuckle at Isabel's weak attempt at humor. Then Maria voiced what was in the back of everyone's mind. "Isabel, if all that was from Alex, now that it's stopped do you think...?"
"That he's dead?" she finished. "No, I don't. If I'm connected to him enough to know his emotions and feel his pain, then I'd know if he were dead I think, it would be," ......her voice trailed off distantly.
The hair on the back of everyone's neck stood up as the air in the room seemed to darken, and become heavy and pregnant with potential.
Michael, who was already on edge due to recent events, began looking around frantically for a threat that he could sense approaching, but not *see*. "Isabel?" he queried.
Amy could feel it too, as if the air was becoming too thick to breathe, and she glanced around at the worried faces and muttered." Now what?" as she stepped closer to the comforting presence of Jim Valenti.
Far away, and yet not so far away, on another plane, the dim suppressed flickering energy in the cable that bound two souls together flared into incandescent blinding blue white light as a dreadful payload moved through it, bound from one soul to the other. Isabel stood mute, transfixed by sheer might and majesty of what she sensed was coming.... and then it arrived. A tidal wave of sensation and energy roared into her heart, mind, and soul. The pain that it brought with it was so exquisite that it bordered on pleasure as Isabel Evans became the first non-Immortal in history to experience a Quickening, if only by proxy.
To her friends and family she appeared to be standing rigid, feet apart, hands clenched at her sides, her eyes rolled back in her head, with a faint keening issuing from her throat. Fine, almost invisible, cob web fingers of blue light were dancing in her hair and along the length or her body, like a filmy ephemeral cocoon. The static charge in the room increased a hundred fold. All of them were uncomfortable as electrical potential tickled their nerve endings. There were a series of 'pops' as the breakers on electrical equipment began to cut loose. Max tried to touch his sister, but she was now a living capacitor and the resulting energy discharge knocked him backwards into Kyle Valenti's arms. Lose papers were starting to stir as a convection current began to move within the room.
Everyone backed away expectantly as the feeling of muted power continued to build, until it had to find an outlet.
In a final tremendous surge that flared off of Isabel like a corona, sweeping outward in a wave...it expressed itself as a shared vision. In a dark place a young man was on his knees, his head thrown back in ecstatic abandon, his mouth open in an unheard scream, his arms flung wide in apparent supplication, as malign lightnings crackled and danced around, over, and through him.
Then it was over. As quickly as if someone had thrown a switch, the energy ceased to flow, and it's vessel collapsed in a heap before anyone could move to prevent it. Max and Liz were the first ones to emerge from their daze, and together they managed to get a spent Isabel back on the couch, and covered in blankets, for her skin was like ice. Brody emerged from his stupor next. Joining Max and Liz he was shocked by the clammy feel to Isabel's skin. He judged that she was close to going into shock, something that had been unheard of for the alien hybrids... until now.
While Max strove to balance her vital signs, Brody took the old fashioned route, warm water with a mild solution of soda and salt. And as an afterthought, a generous needling of Tabasco from a small bottle that he kept around for his friends. Mixing a cup he had Liz take it, and while he tilted Isabel's head, Liz carefully administered small amounts to the unconscious girl. Not enough to cause her to choke, but enough apparently to do some good, as Isabel's color began to improve.
Slowly, one by one, the others in the room stirred and began to move.
"What was that?" Amy asked. "I-I saw Alex...somewhere."
Jim nodded. "So did I."
"I think it must have been Isabel relaying to us through her connection to him," Michael said, from where he stood holding Maria. "What I want to know is, just what was that energy coming from. None of us ever generated anything on *that* order." Then he jumped as Maria surreptitiously pinched him.
"~How soon you forget, Spaceboy,~" came her tart remark.
"~I haven't forgotten Pixie, but do *you* wanna be the one to tell your mother and almost father about the possibility that our lovemaking can now be measured on the Richter scale?~" he replied.
Maria didn't have a chance to respond, because a sputtering cough from the direction of the couch drew their attention. *cough* "Qiknggg!" *cough* *cough* *cough*
Jim had joined the group at the couch and, together with Brody, he hoisted a shuddering and coughing Isabel upright, and then he deftly swatted her on the back. The coughing fit subsided and she fell back limply her strength exhausted...but conscious now. Liz offered her a sip from the cup, and she accepted it. Laying back down she sighed and chewed briefly at her lower lip, then she addressed Michael in a faint somewhat raspy voice. "I think that it's what he called 'The Quickening'."
"He?" asked a now hopeful Maria.
Isabel smiled weakly. "Alex. Yes Maria, I remember now. All of it." She closed her eyes. "I'd managed to bully what I think was most of the truth out of him that night." A tear welled up and leaked down her cheek. "The Quickening is what happens when one of Alex's kind dies."
Ever skeptical, Michael frowned. "Alex's 'kind'? What 'kind' do you mean? He's human."
Maria glared at him, but said nothing, letting their connection do the talking. Now was not the time to play Doubting Thomas.
However, Isabel wasn't put off in the slightest. She shook her head slightly... which was all that she had the energy for. On the plus side, when she spoke, her voice was starting to lose the rasp and firm up. "He's no more human than we are Michael. He never was. It was only protective coloration I think, to let him blend in."
Jim gave her hand a squeeze then got up and out of the way to give her air. "I think that you'd better explain that."
Isabel kept her eyes closed and spoke softly. She was terribly tired. "He told me that it's been going on since before recorded history. So say The Watchers. They're an organization of normal humans that goes back thousands of years. Their sole mission in life is to chronicle the life of each individual of Alex's race, or species...or whatever you want to call it. Everywhere that one of Alex's kind goes, there will be one or more Watchers following and recording.
Max wore a puzzled look.. "Recording what, Isabel?"
Isabel opened her eyes and studied her brother. "How they live. How they fight. How they die."
"None of which tells us what 'they' are," prodded Michael.
Isabel sighed wearily and went on. "'They don't know, Michael. Even The Watchers haven't a clue. It's as if they've always been there."
Jim cleared his throat. "Er, Isabel, from the sound of it these Watchers are quite a secret society. As such, it wouldn't be a good idea for their.... er.... subjects to know about them. How did Alex come to know?
Isabel gave a weak laugh. "Alex said that there's a no fraternization rule. But it turns out that the head of the North American Watchers is something of a maverick who had made friends with Alex's mentor a long time ago. I don't know the whole story...yet."
Jim absorbed the information thoughtfully, and then indicated that she should go on.
Isabel took a sip of the water that Liz was still holding for her, then she continued. "Alex said that there are never more than a few thousand alive in the entire world, at any given time. They come into the world as abandoned babies, foundlings. There are no biological parents that anyone has ever been able to find. They live and grow up human, completely ignorant of what they are...until they die."
Amy was listening with rapt attention. "And that's it?"
Isabel sighed. "No, that's just the beginning."
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Sat Feb 25, 2006 7:44 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 16d
(Hide and Seek)
Seattle, Washington........8:05 PM
Duncan helped Alex out to where the motorcycle waited. Duncan had taken a moment to search Conterras' body and strip him of all identifying material, including a rather thick money belt... and his sword. Now the clock was ticking. If anyone had noticed the light show, they would investigate soon. It was time to be scarce. Alex's wounds were healing rapidly, but the pain in his side still kept any movement from being a picnic. Alex settled against the bike's saddle with a sigh, taking some weight off, just as Duncan's cell phone began to vibrate.
Grabbing the phone Duncan answered. "Yes?"
"So, the kid did it, eh?" said Joe Dawson's voice.
"Since when are you keeping tabs on the play-by-play, Joe?" Duncan shot back.
Dawson laughed. "I'm not, but Alex's Watcher knew that I had a personal interest and decided to brighten my day."
Duncan smiled. "Well, since you asked..... yes, he did it. He bucked my orders and knocked Richie out... and killed Conterras."
As he listened, Alex winced. Richie probably wasn't just real happy with him at the moment.
On the other end of the phone, Dawson said, "Normally I wouldn't do this, but I can ask some people to handle clean up for you." What Joe was offering was to have some tightlipped folks of his acquaintance dump Conterras body down a deep unmarked hole somewhere. It wouldn't do to have too many headless corpses show up in a given area. It might give the local authorities unwelcome ideas. It had done so in the past, elsewhere.
Duncan sighed. "Normally I'd say no. I prefer to do such things myself, and know that they're done right, but I'll make an exception this time. I want to get back and check on Richie, and this *is* Alex's first, so he's not exactly in good shape yet either."
Dawson gave an affirmative grunt. "Get out of there then. They're on stand-by a couple of blocks away. The kid's Watcher will wait for them." Joe chuckled wryly. "You can tell Alex that I may have to replace his Watcher. This is the poor girl's first field job...and I think that she's smitten."
Duncan grinned. "I'll be sure to tell Don Juan Whitman that." He paused then said, "And thanks Joe. Talk to you later."
Alex wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but...."Don Juan Whitman?"
Duncan laughed out loud. "It's nothing Alex, just that fact that your Watcher is fairly new, a girl, and would like to jump your bones."
Alex groaned aloud. The Quickening had blown away the last of Cassandra's 'spell'. And Alex's newly returned memories made the idea of any other woman lusting after him seem...unseemly. Let alone one whose *job* it was to follow him around, stalker-like, twenty-four/seven. "Isabel will NOT be amused," he thought. He turned his feelings inward and found that...whateveritwas....that was their conduit to each other. He'd been aware of her again, ever since he'd emerged from the Quickening. He felt a chill. "What happened to her while I was in there?" Turning to Duncan he snapped his fingers. "The phone please?"
Duncan had been stowing Conterras sword on the bike, preparatory to leaving. He was still puzzling over how a lowlife like Conterras had managed to lay his hands on an authentic Toledo broad sword. Absently Duncan pulled out the phone, but he paused in the act of handing it over. "Going to call your friends?" he asked.
Alex nodded. "Remember those 'unusual abilities' that my friends have? I have to find out if Isabel suffered anything because of what just happened in there." He waved his hand at the abandoned factory.
Duncan frowned. "What makes you think that she would have?"
Alex paused to consider, then shrugged. He and Isabel had discussed this, but he wasn't willing to implement their agreement until he knew her status, and whether or not she still felt the same way about the idea. Still, he could talk *around* the issue. "Two of my friends, Max and Liz are.... involved with each other. One has abilities, the other doesn't....but they have a connection that's sort of an awareness of each other; a sort of metaphysical radar. Isabel and I have a version of it too, now. We had it before Cassandra made us forget." His eyes turned inward, into his own mind. "She's there now. I can feel her, sort of. But I need to find out what happened. I have to know if she's okay."
Sighing, Duncan returned the phone to his pocket. "It can wait until we're at the dojo. Then you can call... but only after we talk a few things over."
Alex glared. "You are *not* going to argue me out of it."
"I wouldn't dream of trying," said Duncan as he shook his head.
Alex frowned as Duncan mounted the bike and gestured for Alex to do the same. Moving slowly and painfully, Alex complied. As he did so he asked.... "Why not?"
Duncan laughed quietly, as he paused before kick starting the motorcycle. "You're a man now, Alex. Not because you killed someone, but because you bucked my orders to do something, and you were proven right in the outcome. And you accomplished what the rest of us could not. A man deserves respect. You still have a long way to go in training, but you aren't a kid any longer. Make your call. We simply have to have a talk... first."
Then Duncan kicked the bike to howling life and threw a gravel rooster-tail as he peeled a half circle and roared for home.
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center......Same Time
"Then his coming back to life had nothing to do with us... with me?" Max asked.
Isabel shook her head. "No. Apparently death and resurrection are a normal part of the life cycle for people like Alex."
"Not to upset anyone, but how'd those two people come to be digging him up? Michael asked.
"Alex's kind can sense each other," Isabel answered. "They call it 'the buzz' he said. And the ones that live long enough can sense those that haven't made the jump yet. It was plain random chance that two of them happened to be traveling through Roswell and spotted Alex. That was the day he was killed, so they stuck around and dug him out. Otherwise he'd have been stuck there, effectively buried alive. Their names are Cassandra and Methos."
Maria shivered. "It sounds like we owe them for that. Cassandra would be the one that put the warp on Liz and I... and you as well, right? Are you sure that she isn't... you know, a Czech? And, why didn't they bring him to us?"
Isabel's eyes narrowed. "Yes, we do owe them. I'll try to remember that once I get my hands on the red headed meddler... otherwise they'll have to scrape up what's left of her with a putty knife and a sponge." She sighed. "And no, they aren't alien...what they are is strange enough all by itself. How she did what she did, I don't know. But, I'd stake my life on the fact that she isn't an alien. As for why they didn't bring him to us, it's kind of policy in their world. Once you cross over, all ties with the past are severed. That would include us. For one thing, ordinary people wouldn't handle it very well. I mean, we're anything *but* ordinary, and we're having a hard time with it. For another, there's an aspect of this that's very dangerous. They try to protect people from that. Alex didn't want to bring it down on us."
Liz had been thinking. Now she spoke up. "Isabel, something's bothering me here. Several thing actually; if Alex can come back from the dead *once*, he can do it twice, a third time, and so on...ad infinitum. That makes his kind effectively pretty long lived. Yet you just said that this energy discharge...the 'quickening' you called it... is a by-product of their death. That means that someone just died to produce it. Are you sure that... it wasn't Alex?"
Isabel sighed. "Yes Liz, I'm sure. The connection that you and Max have... and now Maria and Michael; like I told you before I got forgetful, I have the beginnings of it with Alex. He's still there.
Liz nodded. "So it follows that the man that Alex mentioned in the e-mail must have been the one that supplied it. And therefore, he was one of Alex's kind.
"Alex nailed the bastard?" Michael chimed in. "Way to go Alex!" Then he subsided under quelling looks from several people.
Liz went on. "We know that there's a dangerous aspect to what his life is now, you told us that much before this Cassandra caught you, but we don't know *why*. All the pieces are there; the combat, training, the swords. But I'm missing the unifying factor.
Isabel scrubbed weakly at an eye with her fist; for tears were threatening to well again... Brody noticed and offered her a box of tissues. "Thanks," she responded, then looked at Liz. "They call it 'The Game'."
MacLeod's Dojo......Same Time
Having been called by Joe, Richie was waiting in the alley when they arrived. Without a word he helped Alex off the bike and took the coats and swords into custody. Then he followed Alex up the stairs and inside as Duncan went to park the bike. He and Alex remained silent as they trudged through the dojo and into the elevator.
When they arrived upstairs Alex turned to Richie, and took his stuff off of Richie's hands. "Thanks, Richie, I'm going to go clean up some, then we can talk.... or you can kick the hell out of me, as the case may be."
Richie studied him a moment, then grinned. "Oh, I'll get even, never fear. But I've already been 'killed' a couple of times by friends who just wanted to keep me from meddling in what they were doing. All *you* did was stun me."
Alex blinked. "I'll take that at face value and thanks, right now though, I want a shower." He turned to go when Richie stopped him.
"Alex?" he said.
"Yes?" came the response.
Richie looked him up and down. Then he indicated Alex's dirty, torn, and bloodstained clothing. "Listen to the voice of experience here. Don't try to salvage any of that, not even the underwear. Just stuff it in a garbage bag and I'll take it to the old furnace downstairs."
Alex looked down at his dirty and battered condition and grimaced. "Okay, and thanks again." Then he vanished down the hallway, still limping.
A few minutes later Alex was in the bathroom examining the wound in his side. It had bled very little on the ride home, and somewhat more when he'd taken off his battered shirt and had to tug at the material where it had stuck to the wound; now though it was in the last stages of closing up, even as he watched. "Like magic," he thought. The deep slash to his arm was already a puckered scar. His fingers were tracing it when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute," he said as he threw on a robe. Then he winced as he stooped to pick up the remains of his clothing and stuff them into a trash bag. Opening the door he expected to see Richie, instead however, it was Richie *and* Duncan.
"You wanted to make a phone call I believe?" Duncan said.
Alex nodded. "And *you* wanted to talk about it first."
"Shall we then?" Duncan indicated that the way to Alex's room. "The sooner we get it over with, the sooner you can make that call, then finish cleaning up and get some sleep."
Richie relieved Alex of the trash as they walked into his room. "I'll just go ditch this. See ya in a few." Then he exited the room.
Duncan and Alex studied each other a moment. "Well?" Alex said.
Duncan sighed. "Alex, this isn't an order, just a recommendation. You know that we have a ton of trouble coming." He paused for emphasis. "If you love this girl, if you love your friends, don't let them get in the middle of it."
Alex gave Duncan a pitying look. "You don't know them like I do. They have resources of their own that they can tap to track me down. I'd give you fifty-fifty odds that they have this building nailed by now." He sighed. "Isabel and I had planned to blow the lid off at both ends simultaneously, before we came down with that case of artificial amnesia that you had Cass lay on us. That still may happen, but conditions have changed. For one thing, she told others in our little 'family' in Roswell about finding me...and she convinced them that she wasn't nuts. By now they'll all know about it, and if there was any backlash from the Quickening through my connection to Isabel, they'll all be on full alert."
Duncan studied him. "Methos and Cass were right, weren't they? You kids, all of you, have seen fighting before, haven't you?"
Alex simply nodded. "Yes, more than that I won't say until this is over. For one thing it has no bearing on what's coming." Then he smirked. "For another, you might not believe me if I told you."
Duncan frowned. He didn't like that answer, but there was nothing he could do about it. "So, you won't tell them where we are, or where we're going?"
Alex sighed. "Duncan, much as I've missed them, I'm still terrified of getting them into this. And I have no life *there* to go back to either." He paused. "But what I say, or don't say won't matter a damn. As soon as she can, Isabel will come. If she comes, the others will follow. I'll argue against it, but in the end it isn't my choice...or your choice. It's their choice. The guys might be a bit more pragmatic and cautious, but if it's left up to the women, they'll come after me in a 'Damn the torpedoes' sort of way."
Duncan grinned. "Isn't that always the way. I sometimes think that humanity wouldn't have accomplished half of what it has without the women prompting the men to get off their ass and *do* something." His grin faded. "So you're saying that it's hopeless?"
Alex grinned ruefully. "Twelve hours if they fly. Two days, at the outside, if they drive. All that I can promise you is a stall that may not be worth much, and we'd better hope that Britanicus isn't the slow and cautious type, and that it's over before they get here."
Duncan nodded. Then he indicated the phone. "Do you mind if I stick around for this?"
Alex shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then he reached for his bedside phone.
Duncan stopped him and held out the cell phone. "They may have this place nailed, or they may not. For their own safety though, I'd rather not make it easy for them..."
Alex nodded, then took the phone, and began to dial. He did it more to mollify Duncan than he did out of any real hope of affecting the outcome. One way or the other, they'd be coming.
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center........Same Time
Everyone was sitting around, silent. There was an air of depression about the group that was more suited to a funeral than anything else.
Eventually it was Jim that spoke. "And this... slaughter has gone on, unbroken, for thousands of years?"
Isabel sighed softly. She needed to sleep soon. "No one knows how long. Even The Watchers aren't sure. I'm guessing now, but from what Alex told me, 'The Game' may pre-date recorded human history."
Maria sat curled up in Michael's lap, seeking comfort. "It isn't fair," she said. "Alex is Alex, not Conan the
Barbarian."
Isabel smiled wanly. "Do you think that I didn't tell myself the same thing? Much good it did me."
Max stood up and began to pace. The last few minutes, he and Liz had been swapping thoughts furiously, bordering on fusion. Now he had to give voice to their joint frustration.
"Let's review a minute here," he said. "Alex's kind come back to life, only to be drawn into an ancient game from which they have no escape. It involves single combat, to the death. The rules are, no fighting on consecrated soil, single combat only, the loser dies. And when they die they give up the sort of energy that we saw tonight...The Quickening you called it. Older players train new ones and offer them protection until they can stand on their own. And all of this would work fine if everyone obeyed the rules...except that some people don't." He paused. "And we're going on the assumption that Alex killed one such person tonight? Am I right so far?"
Isabel nodded.
Max looked around at the assembled group. "What do you want to do? I can't make this choice alone."
At that moment everyone jumped as Liz's cell phone began to shrill from her purse. Liz pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, then glanced around at the others, her eyes coming to rest on Isabel. Without hesitation Liz walked over to her and offered her the phone. Isabel took it without comment and answered it. "Hello Alex?"
There was a long silence. "Izzy? What are you doing with Liz's cell?"
"Answering it," she said. "I'm at the UFO Center. The gang's all here too. Liz knew who it would be, and gave me the honors."
Alex was silent again for a bit, then said, "Tell them that I miss them, and I love them."
"I will," she said. "Are you okay?"
"There's nothing wrong that won't heal," he said. "I'm more worried about you though."
Isabel shifted position and closed her eyes. "I'm okay, for having been through hell and back. I think it was mostly because I didn't know that the link between us was there, or how to handle it. I don't think that it'll happen again.... unless I choose for it to." She grimaced. "And having been through it once, I don't think I'll choose to do so again, believe me."
Alex sounded pained. "Was it that bad?"
Isabel sighed. "You got stabbed in the side, didn't you? And your arm was injured?"
"Yes," he answered.
"I thought so," she went on, "because I felt it. Then I felt the Quickening too. It was like sticking my finger in a high-voltage socket."
Alex closed his eyes, and looked sad, sad enough to worry Duncan. "I'm sorry Isabel. I wish..."
"Skip it," she cut him off. "It's over. Done. What matters is that we're both okay. Now, when can we get together?"
Alex paused. "It's not that easy Iz. This fight is over, but it turns out that Conterras was just a front man for a bigger meaner villain... one with a private army."
Isabel nodded to herself. "It figures. So, when can we get together?"
Alex sighed in exasperation. "Weren't you listening? We can't. Not until this is over."
"Alex, it'll never be over," she answered calmly. "Ever. There'll always be some enemy. Yours. Mine. Ours. What does it matter?"
"Maybe so Iz, maybe so," he responded. "But this is one that I *can* keep you away from, and I will!"
Isabel giggled. "Y'know Alex Whitman, you don't wear pigheadedness well at all. This conversation is done as far as I'm concerned. The only thing that counts is that you're okay. The other issue, you don't get a vote on." She paused. "Do you want to talk to the others?"
"No!" Alex said sharply. "I'll just have the same argument with them, and I'm not up to it. I need to clean up and get some sleep. Tell them that I love them, and I'll try to call tomorrow." He paused. "I love you!"
"I love you too, Alex," she answered, "even if you are chicken."
"Cluck cluck," he shot back. "Get some sleep Izzy. Night!"
"Night!" she said and waited until the connection broke. Then she gave the phone back to Liz.
"You mean he hung up? He didn't even want to say hi to us?" Maria exploded.
Isabel shook her head. "Oh, he wanted to say hi. But he thought he'd have to have some version or other of the same argument over and over again. So he chickened out."
Maria was doing a slow burn. "He'd better hope that he *can* keep coming back to life again and again, because I'm going to kill him several times for this! At the very least!"
Liz broke in. "What'd you learn Iz?" She was no happier than Maria, but sidetracked it in favor of practical matters.
"Not a lot," Isabel said, "but enough. He's okay, it sounds like. You heard it though. He didn't get into a big information exchange. I guess he was too afraid of giving something away that might lead us to him...the stubborn idiot. The thing is, the guy that he fought tonight is just the beginning. He was the point man for a bigger, meaner bad guy."
Max nodded, "That substantiates the e-mail. He said war was coming, and he meant it." He paused. "But the question remains, what do we do?"
Isabel shrugged. "I'm going home to bed, and then tomorrow I'm heading for Seattle. The rest of you do what you want."
Kyle had been largely silent all evening. Now he spoke up. "Don't you think that this should be a group activity? All for one, and one for all?"
Isabel gave him a sympathetic look. "If it were Tess, would you wait on our opinion?"
Kyle sighed and shook his head.
Michael looked at Isabel. "Are you sure Iz? He *is* different you know?"
Maria glared at him and went telepathic, "~What the hell are you playing at Spaceboy?~"
Michael never flinched. "~Just go with the flow Pixie, and let her answer.~"
Isabel's response was immediate. "He loved me in spite of my being different. He was your friend and Max's friend, in spite of your being different." She shrugged. "It goes both ways."
Michael nodded. "Then we go, because like Kyle said, one for all, all for one."
Amy spoke up.... "Um, kids? Might I point out that you can't all ditch school for the rest of the week and not have it noticed?"
Michael shrugged. "So, I'll do a little work at the school. Enhancing the quake damage enough to keep us out of school a few days until it's fixed." He glanced at Max and nodded.
Max grinned. "Good plan, Michael, very good indeed." He glanced around the room at their adult 'guardians'. "Then if one or two of you adults would consent to chaperone us on a road trip, so our parents can't object, we'll be on our way."
Jim got a pained look. "Much as I hate the idea of you vandalizing school property, it's the best that we can do, I think. We certainly can't let Isabel go alone. And short of hog-tying her I don't see any way to stop her."
Isabel chuckled. "You're right, and even hog-tying me wouldn't do it. I'd just dissolve the ropes." She paused. "It's settled then. Now will someone please take me home before I fall asleep on this couch?"
MacLeod's Dojo....Same Time
"Well?" Duncan said.
Alex shook his head. "She's coming. And if she's coming, they're coming. All of them. Count on it."
Duncan worked his jaw. "Take your shower and throw some stuff in a bag. I'm afraid that sleep will have to wait. We're moving tonight."
Alex set off for the shower as Duncan went to find Richie and get things moving.
"If we can get moved before they get here, they won't be able to track us," Duncan thought. "None of us has any official connection to that asylum that can be traced. And it's not like they have blood hounds."
Duncan was right. They didn't have bloodhounds. They had something better. They had a soul mate.
End of Part 16
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 16d
(Hide and Seek)
Seattle, Washington........8:05 PM
Duncan helped Alex out to where the motorcycle waited. Duncan had taken a moment to search Conterras' body and strip him of all identifying material, including a rather thick money belt... and his sword. Now the clock was ticking. If anyone had noticed the light show, they would investigate soon. It was time to be scarce. Alex's wounds were healing rapidly, but the pain in his side still kept any movement from being a picnic. Alex settled against the bike's saddle with a sigh, taking some weight off, just as Duncan's cell phone began to vibrate.
Grabbing the phone Duncan answered. "Yes?"
"So, the kid did it, eh?" said Joe Dawson's voice.
"Since when are you keeping tabs on the play-by-play, Joe?" Duncan shot back.
Dawson laughed. "I'm not, but Alex's Watcher knew that I had a personal interest and decided to brighten my day."
Duncan smiled. "Well, since you asked..... yes, he did it. He bucked my orders and knocked Richie out... and killed Conterras."
As he listened, Alex winced. Richie probably wasn't just real happy with him at the moment.
On the other end of the phone, Dawson said, "Normally I wouldn't do this, but I can ask some people to handle clean up for you." What Joe was offering was to have some tightlipped folks of his acquaintance dump Conterras body down a deep unmarked hole somewhere. It wouldn't do to have too many headless corpses show up in a given area. It might give the local authorities unwelcome ideas. It had done so in the past, elsewhere.
Duncan sighed. "Normally I'd say no. I prefer to do such things myself, and know that they're done right, but I'll make an exception this time. I want to get back and check on Richie, and this *is* Alex's first, so he's not exactly in good shape yet either."
Dawson gave an affirmative grunt. "Get out of there then. They're on stand-by a couple of blocks away. The kid's Watcher will wait for them." Joe chuckled wryly. "You can tell Alex that I may have to replace his Watcher. This is the poor girl's first field job...and I think that she's smitten."
Duncan grinned. "I'll be sure to tell Don Juan Whitman that." He paused then said, "And thanks Joe. Talk to you later."
Alex wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but...."Don Juan Whitman?"
Duncan laughed out loud. "It's nothing Alex, just that fact that your Watcher is fairly new, a girl, and would like to jump your bones."
Alex groaned aloud. The Quickening had blown away the last of Cassandra's 'spell'. And Alex's newly returned memories made the idea of any other woman lusting after him seem...unseemly. Let alone one whose *job* it was to follow him around, stalker-like, twenty-four/seven. "Isabel will NOT be amused," he thought. He turned his feelings inward and found that...whateveritwas....that was their conduit to each other. He'd been aware of her again, ever since he'd emerged from the Quickening. He felt a chill. "What happened to her while I was in there?" Turning to Duncan he snapped his fingers. "The phone please?"
Duncan had been stowing Conterras sword on the bike, preparatory to leaving. He was still puzzling over how a lowlife like Conterras had managed to lay his hands on an authentic Toledo broad sword. Absently Duncan pulled out the phone, but he paused in the act of handing it over. "Going to call your friends?" he asked.
Alex nodded. "Remember those 'unusual abilities' that my friends have? I have to find out if Isabel suffered anything because of what just happened in there." He waved his hand at the abandoned factory.
Duncan frowned. "What makes you think that she would have?"
Alex paused to consider, then shrugged. He and Isabel had discussed this, but he wasn't willing to implement their agreement until he knew her status, and whether or not she still felt the same way about the idea. Still, he could talk *around* the issue. "Two of my friends, Max and Liz are.... involved with each other. One has abilities, the other doesn't....but they have a connection that's sort of an awareness of each other; a sort of metaphysical radar. Isabel and I have a version of it too, now. We had it before Cassandra made us forget." His eyes turned inward, into his own mind. "She's there now. I can feel her, sort of. But I need to find out what happened. I have to know if she's okay."
Sighing, Duncan returned the phone to his pocket. "It can wait until we're at the dojo. Then you can call... but only after we talk a few things over."
Alex glared. "You are *not* going to argue me out of it."
"I wouldn't dream of trying," said Duncan as he shook his head.
Alex frowned as Duncan mounted the bike and gestured for Alex to do the same. Moving slowly and painfully, Alex complied. As he did so he asked.... "Why not?"
Duncan laughed quietly, as he paused before kick starting the motorcycle. "You're a man now, Alex. Not because you killed someone, but because you bucked my orders to do something, and you were proven right in the outcome. And you accomplished what the rest of us could not. A man deserves respect. You still have a long way to go in training, but you aren't a kid any longer. Make your call. We simply have to have a talk... first."
Then Duncan kicked the bike to howling life and threw a gravel rooster-tail as he peeled a half circle and roared for home.
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center......Same Time
"Then his coming back to life had nothing to do with us... with me?" Max asked.
Isabel shook her head. "No. Apparently death and resurrection are a normal part of the life cycle for people like Alex."
"Not to upset anyone, but how'd those two people come to be digging him up? Michael asked.
"Alex's kind can sense each other," Isabel answered. "They call it 'the buzz' he said. And the ones that live long enough can sense those that haven't made the jump yet. It was plain random chance that two of them happened to be traveling through Roswell and spotted Alex. That was the day he was killed, so they stuck around and dug him out. Otherwise he'd have been stuck there, effectively buried alive. Their names are Cassandra and Methos."
Maria shivered. "It sounds like we owe them for that. Cassandra would be the one that put the warp on Liz and I... and you as well, right? Are you sure that she isn't... you know, a Czech? And, why didn't they bring him to us?"
Isabel's eyes narrowed. "Yes, we do owe them. I'll try to remember that once I get my hands on the red headed meddler... otherwise they'll have to scrape up what's left of her with a putty knife and a sponge." She sighed. "And no, they aren't alien...what they are is strange enough all by itself. How she did what she did, I don't know. But, I'd stake my life on the fact that she isn't an alien. As for why they didn't bring him to us, it's kind of policy in their world. Once you cross over, all ties with the past are severed. That would include us. For one thing, ordinary people wouldn't handle it very well. I mean, we're anything *but* ordinary, and we're having a hard time with it. For another, there's an aspect of this that's very dangerous. They try to protect people from that. Alex didn't want to bring it down on us."
Liz had been thinking. Now she spoke up. "Isabel, something's bothering me here. Several thing actually; if Alex can come back from the dead *once*, he can do it twice, a third time, and so on...ad infinitum. That makes his kind effectively pretty long lived. Yet you just said that this energy discharge...the 'quickening' you called it... is a by-product of their death. That means that someone just died to produce it. Are you sure that... it wasn't Alex?"
Isabel sighed. "Yes Liz, I'm sure. The connection that you and Max have... and now Maria and Michael; like I told you before I got forgetful, I have the beginnings of it with Alex. He's still there.
Liz nodded. "So it follows that the man that Alex mentioned in the e-mail must have been the one that supplied it. And therefore, he was one of Alex's kind.
"Alex nailed the bastard?" Michael chimed in. "Way to go Alex!" Then he subsided under quelling looks from several people.
Liz went on. "We know that there's a dangerous aspect to what his life is now, you told us that much before this Cassandra caught you, but we don't know *why*. All the pieces are there; the combat, training, the swords. But I'm missing the unifying factor.
Isabel scrubbed weakly at an eye with her fist; for tears were threatening to well again... Brody noticed and offered her a box of tissues. "Thanks," she responded, then looked at Liz. "They call it 'The Game'."
MacLeod's Dojo......Same Time
Having been called by Joe, Richie was waiting in the alley when they arrived. Without a word he helped Alex off the bike and took the coats and swords into custody. Then he followed Alex up the stairs and inside as Duncan went to park the bike. He and Alex remained silent as they trudged through the dojo and into the elevator.
When they arrived upstairs Alex turned to Richie, and took his stuff off of Richie's hands. "Thanks, Richie, I'm going to go clean up some, then we can talk.... or you can kick the hell out of me, as the case may be."
Richie studied him a moment, then grinned. "Oh, I'll get even, never fear. But I've already been 'killed' a couple of times by friends who just wanted to keep me from meddling in what they were doing. All *you* did was stun me."
Alex blinked. "I'll take that at face value and thanks, right now though, I want a shower." He turned to go when Richie stopped him.
"Alex?" he said.
"Yes?" came the response.
Richie looked him up and down. Then he indicated Alex's dirty, torn, and bloodstained clothing. "Listen to the voice of experience here. Don't try to salvage any of that, not even the underwear. Just stuff it in a garbage bag and I'll take it to the old furnace downstairs."
Alex looked down at his dirty and battered condition and grimaced. "Okay, and thanks again." Then he vanished down the hallway, still limping.
A few minutes later Alex was in the bathroom examining the wound in his side. It had bled very little on the ride home, and somewhat more when he'd taken off his battered shirt and had to tug at the material where it had stuck to the wound; now though it was in the last stages of closing up, even as he watched. "Like magic," he thought. The deep slash to his arm was already a puckered scar. His fingers were tracing it when there was a knock at the door. "Just a minute," he said as he threw on a robe. Then he winced as he stooped to pick up the remains of his clothing and stuff them into a trash bag. Opening the door he expected to see Richie, instead however, it was Richie *and* Duncan.
"You wanted to make a phone call I believe?" Duncan said.
Alex nodded. "And *you* wanted to talk about it first."
"Shall we then?" Duncan indicated that the way to Alex's room. "The sooner we get it over with, the sooner you can make that call, then finish cleaning up and get some sleep."
Richie relieved Alex of the trash as they walked into his room. "I'll just go ditch this. See ya in a few." Then he exited the room.
Duncan and Alex studied each other a moment. "Well?" Alex said.
Duncan sighed. "Alex, this isn't an order, just a recommendation. You know that we have a ton of trouble coming." He paused for emphasis. "If you love this girl, if you love your friends, don't let them get in the middle of it."
Alex gave Duncan a pitying look. "You don't know them like I do. They have resources of their own that they can tap to track me down. I'd give you fifty-fifty odds that they have this building nailed by now." He sighed. "Isabel and I had planned to blow the lid off at both ends simultaneously, before we came down with that case of artificial amnesia that you had Cass lay on us. That still may happen, but conditions have changed. For one thing, she told others in our little 'family' in Roswell about finding me...and she convinced them that she wasn't nuts. By now they'll all know about it, and if there was any backlash from the Quickening through my connection to Isabel, they'll all be on full alert."
Duncan studied him. "Methos and Cass were right, weren't they? You kids, all of you, have seen fighting before, haven't you?"
Alex simply nodded. "Yes, more than that I won't say until this is over. For one thing it has no bearing on what's coming." Then he smirked. "For another, you might not believe me if I told you."
Duncan frowned. He didn't like that answer, but there was nothing he could do about it. "So, you won't tell them where we are, or where we're going?"
Alex sighed. "Duncan, much as I've missed them, I'm still terrified of getting them into this. And I have no life *there* to go back to either." He paused. "But what I say, or don't say won't matter a damn. As soon as she can, Isabel will come. If she comes, the others will follow. I'll argue against it, but in the end it isn't my choice...or your choice. It's their choice. The guys might be a bit more pragmatic and cautious, but if it's left up to the women, they'll come after me in a 'Damn the torpedoes' sort of way."
Duncan grinned. "Isn't that always the way. I sometimes think that humanity wouldn't have accomplished half of what it has without the women prompting the men to get off their ass and *do* something." His grin faded. "So you're saying that it's hopeless?"
Alex grinned ruefully. "Twelve hours if they fly. Two days, at the outside, if they drive. All that I can promise you is a stall that may not be worth much, and we'd better hope that Britanicus isn't the slow and cautious type, and that it's over before they get here."
Duncan nodded. Then he indicated the phone. "Do you mind if I stick around for this?"
Alex shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then he reached for his bedside phone.
Duncan stopped him and held out the cell phone. "They may have this place nailed, or they may not. For their own safety though, I'd rather not make it easy for them..."
Alex nodded, then took the phone, and began to dial. He did it more to mollify Duncan than he did out of any real hope of affecting the outcome. One way or the other, they'd be coming.
Roswell, New Mexico, UFO Center........Same Time
Everyone was sitting around, silent. There was an air of depression about the group that was more suited to a funeral than anything else.
Eventually it was Jim that spoke. "And this... slaughter has gone on, unbroken, for thousands of years?"
Isabel sighed softly. She needed to sleep soon. "No one knows how long. Even The Watchers aren't sure. I'm guessing now, but from what Alex told me, 'The Game' may pre-date recorded human history."
Maria sat curled up in Michael's lap, seeking comfort. "It isn't fair," she said. "Alex is Alex, not Conan the
Barbarian."
Isabel smiled wanly. "Do you think that I didn't tell myself the same thing? Much good it did me."
Max stood up and began to pace. The last few minutes, he and Liz had been swapping thoughts furiously, bordering on fusion. Now he had to give voice to their joint frustration.
"Let's review a minute here," he said. "Alex's kind come back to life, only to be drawn into an ancient game from which they have no escape. It involves single combat, to the death. The rules are, no fighting on consecrated soil, single combat only, the loser dies. And when they die they give up the sort of energy that we saw tonight...The Quickening you called it. Older players train new ones and offer them protection until they can stand on their own. And all of this would work fine if everyone obeyed the rules...except that some people don't." He paused. "And we're going on the assumption that Alex killed one such person tonight? Am I right so far?"
Isabel nodded.
Max looked around at the assembled group. "What do you want to do? I can't make this choice alone."
At that moment everyone jumped as Liz's cell phone began to shrill from her purse. Liz pulled it out and stared at it for a moment, then glanced around at the others, her eyes coming to rest on Isabel. Without hesitation Liz walked over to her and offered her the phone. Isabel took it without comment and answered it. "Hello Alex?"
There was a long silence. "Izzy? What are you doing with Liz's cell?"
"Answering it," she said. "I'm at the UFO Center. The gang's all here too. Liz knew who it would be, and gave me the honors."
Alex was silent again for a bit, then said, "Tell them that I miss them, and I love them."
"I will," she said. "Are you okay?"
"There's nothing wrong that won't heal," he said. "I'm more worried about you though."
Isabel shifted position and closed her eyes. "I'm okay, for having been through hell and back. I think it was mostly because I didn't know that the link between us was there, or how to handle it. I don't think that it'll happen again.... unless I choose for it to." She grimaced. "And having been through it once, I don't think I'll choose to do so again, believe me."
Alex sounded pained. "Was it that bad?"
Isabel sighed. "You got stabbed in the side, didn't you? And your arm was injured?"
"Yes," he answered.
"I thought so," she went on, "because I felt it. Then I felt the Quickening too. It was like sticking my finger in a high-voltage socket."
Alex closed his eyes, and looked sad, sad enough to worry Duncan. "I'm sorry Isabel. I wish..."
"Skip it," she cut him off. "It's over. Done. What matters is that we're both okay. Now, when can we get together?"
Alex paused. "It's not that easy Iz. This fight is over, but it turns out that Conterras was just a front man for a bigger meaner villain... one with a private army."
Isabel nodded to herself. "It figures. So, when can we get together?"
Alex sighed in exasperation. "Weren't you listening? We can't. Not until this is over."
"Alex, it'll never be over," she answered calmly. "Ever. There'll always be some enemy. Yours. Mine. Ours. What does it matter?"
"Maybe so Iz, maybe so," he responded. "But this is one that I *can* keep you away from, and I will!"
Isabel giggled. "Y'know Alex Whitman, you don't wear pigheadedness well at all. This conversation is done as far as I'm concerned. The only thing that counts is that you're okay. The other issue, you don't get a vote on." She paused. "Do you want to talk to the others?"
"No!" Alex said sharply. "I'll just have the same argument with them, and I'm not up to it. I need to clean up and get some sleep. Tell them that I love them, and I'll try to call tomorrow." He paused. "I love you!"
"I love you too, Alex," she answered, "even if you are chicken."
"Cluck cluck," he shot back. "Get some sleep Izzy. Night!"
"Night!" she said and waited until the connection broke. Then she gave the phone back to Liz.
"You mean he hung up? He didn't even want to say hi to us?" Maria exploded.
Isabel shook her head. "Oh, he wanted to say hi. But he thought he'd have to have some version or other of the same argument over and over again. So he chickened out."
Maria was doing a slow burn. "He'd better hope that he *can* keep coming back to life again and again, because I'm going to kill him several times for this! At the very least!"
Liz broke in. "What'd you learn Iz?" She was no happier than Maria, but sidetracked it in favor of practical matters.
"Not a lot," Isabel said, "but enough. He's okay, it sounds like. You heard it though. He didn't get into a big information exchange. I guess he was too afraid of giving something away that might lead us to him...the stubborn idiot. The thing is, the guy that he fought tonight is just the beginning. He was the point man for a bigger, meaner bad guy."
Max nodded, "That substantiates the e-mail. He said war was coming, and he meant it." He paused. "But the question remains, what do we do?"
Isabel shrugged. "I'm going home to bed, and then tomorrow I'm heading for Seattle. The rest of you do what you want."
Kyle had been largely silent all evening. Now he spoke up. "Don't you think that this should be a group activity? All for one, and one for all?"
Isabel gave him a sympathetic look. "If it were Tess, would you wait on our opinion?"
Kyle sighed and shook his head.
Michael looked at Isabel. "Are you sure Iz? He *is* different you know?"
Maria glared at him and went telepathic, "~What the hell are you playing at Spaceboy?~"
Michael never flinched. "~Just go with the flow Pixie, and let her answer.~"
Isabel's response was immediate. "He loved me in spite of my being different. He was your friend and Max's friend, in spite of your being different." She shrugged. "It goes both ways."
Michael nodded. "Then we go, because like Kyle said, one for all, all for one."
Amy spoke up.... "Um, kids? Might I point out that you can't all ditch school for the rest of the week and not have it noticed?"
Michael shrugged. "So, I'll do a little work at the school. Enhancing the quake damage enough to keep us out of school a few days until it's fixed." He glanced at Max and nodded.
Max grinned. "Good plan, Michael, very good indeed." He glanced around the room at their adult 'guardians'. "Then if one or two of you adults would consent to chaperone us on a road trip, so our parents can't object, we'll be on our way."
Jim got a pained look. "Much as I hate the idea of you vandalizing school property, it's the best that we can do, I think. We certainly can't let Isabel go alone. And short of hog-tying her I don't see any way to stop her."
Isabel chuckled. "You're right, and even hog-tying me wouldn't do it. I'd just dissolve the ropes." She paused. "It's settled then. Now will someone please take me home before I fall asleep on this couch?"
MacLeod's Dojo....Same Time
"Well?" Duncan said.
Alex shook his head. "She's coming. And if she's coming, they're coming. All of them. Count on it."
Duncan worked his jaw. "Take your shower and throw some stuff in a bag. I'm afraid that sleep will have to wait. We're moving tonight."
Alex set off for the shower as Duncan went to find Richie and get things moving.
"If we can get moved before they get here, they won't be able to track us," Duncan thought. "None of us has any official connection to that asylum that can be traced. And it's not like they have blood hounds."
Duncan was right. They didn't have bloodhounds. They had something better. They had a soul mate.
End of Part 16
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Sat Feb 25, 2006 8:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
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Kzinti_Killer
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Okay, for better or worse (probably worse) the rewrite is done, time to rock 'n roll. *sigh* Sorry about the long wait. I suck.
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
"Show me the way to go home,
I'm tired an' I wanna go ta bed.
Ya see, I had a little drink, about an hour ago.
An' it's gone right to my head......"
~Nameless drinking song,
source unknown.~
STILL YOURS - Part 17a
(The Long Way Home)
Abandoned Bear Run Asylum, Tiger Mountain...........10:35 PM
Methos was on watch up on the roof walk when the headlights appeared on the rutted track leading up from the highway. He took cover in the guard shack and thumbed a button on a small walkie-talkie that came from the same pair that Cassandra and he had used six months earlier in Alex's rescue. The device's mate was with Cass downstairs. After a moment there was a soft hiss from the radio and Cassandra's voice spoke.
"Yes?"
Methos watched the approaching headlights as they bounced up what used to be a driveway. "Douse the lights. We have company coming to call."
There was a moment of silence then she reported. "Okay , we're in the dark here." There was a brief pause then, "How many?"
"I can only see one set of headlights," he answered.
"It's too soon for Musa to be here," she responded, "and he wouldn't approach this boldly anyway. Not at night."
Methos frowned thoughtfully. "That depends how just how many men that he feels he has to waste. Don't forget Cass, to Britanicus those people of his are just cannon fodder, most of them. If he has enough of them, he'll feel cocky."
"It's still too soon," she answered.
"I certainly hope it is," thought Methos, "because I never considered that the sonofawhore might try to catch us with our forces divided." He was shaking his head ruefully at his own short-sightedness when he noticed that the vehicle had stopped. It was still too far away to make out the model or type, but it wasn't too far to make out the patterned blink of the headlights. Two long, three short, four long. Methos heaved a sigh of relief as the vehicle started to move forward again. "Cass, you and Amanda can stand down. Whoever it is just gave the recognition signal. It's Duncan, or Richie. Or both, with Alex in tow. They're coming in."
Cassandra was silent for a moment. "I thought that they weren't supposed to join us until tomorrow night."
"That was only to allow Duncan time to put paid to Conterras," said Methos as he nodded to himself. "Lets hope that this means *good* news." He paused as he stood up. He could hear the distinctive growl of Duncan's SUV now. "They're almost here. I'm coming down. Off." Methos opened the trap door in the floor of the guard shack, which was hardly bigger than a largish telephone booth, and started down the aged,but still sturdy, ladder to a service alcove that opened onto the second floor hallway. By the time he had reached the main stairwell and made it downstairs, Cass and Amanda had the lights back on, and they were pulling the front doors open as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of them. The engine shut off and the doors opened, revealing Duncan and Alex. To Methos' trained eye, Alex seemed to be moving a little too slowly, as if he were recovering from an injury. Catching Duncan's eye he raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Duncan grimaced slightly. Methos grinned inwardly. There was obviously a story to tell, and he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy it enormously.
Amanda was equally aware that something was off with Alex, but side-tracked it long enough to give Duncan a kiss. "What are you two doing out here? And where's Richie?" she asked.
As the distant thrum of a motorcycle reached them, Duncan said, "He's trailing us on his bike. As for why we're here, Conterras is dead, and I thought that it wouldn't be a bad idea to evacuate out here a day early."
Cassandra was looking suspicious as well now, as she joined the conversation. "How did you manage to bring down Conterras? And why move now?"
Alex was holding back his laughter as he deadpanned, "He didn't kill Conterras, I did."
Both women spun back towards Alex and stared at him, in momentary bemusement, as his statement soaked in. Amanda was the first one to turn on Duncan. She backed him up against the SUV before he could prevent it, and said, "I thought that the plan was for *you* to keep Alex *in* while *you* hunted rat boy?" as she drove home each word with a stiffened index finger that jabbed into his chest.
Alex tried to cut in before Duncan could answer. "It's not like I gave them a choice....."
"Stay out of this!" barked both women, for Cassandra had joined Amanda in trapping Duncan up against the SUV.
Duncan held his hands up in a placating gesture, and applied a time honored tactic that all men have used in dealing with angry women. He passed the buck. "I was out hunting Conterras. Richie was the one that had Alex watch," he said with perfect timing, as Richie rolled his bike to a stop next to the SUV.
Richie dismounted his bike and set the kick stand, only to turn and find himself confronted by a smirking Duncan, a grinning Alex, a grinning Methos, and two women who looked mad enough to kill, or at least maim severely. His brain made the logical leap and he realized that he'd been sold out, and that he had to defuse the situation quickly or Cassandra would have him believing that he was a plucked chicken, or something worse. "He told you?"
"He told us that you let Alex get away from you!" Amanda growled.
Richie shrugged. "It's kinda hard to do anything when you're unconscious."
Cass frowned and glanced back at Alex, who simply shrugged and nodded. Amanda however was not distracted. "Really? What'd he do, wrestle you down and put a 'sleeper' on you?" she asked caustically.
She was about to go on when Cassandra placed a hand on her arm and said, "You know, it's not outside the realm of possibility that he did exactly that."
Amanda threw Cass a disgusted look. "Oh really?" She looked back at Richie. "Well, is that what he did? Overpower you?"
Richie flushed, then got control of himself and grinned ruefully. "No." Then he continued, overriding the triumphant expression on Amanda's face before she could say anything else. "He took my hair dryer and rebuilt it into a taser."
Amanda's glare intensified. "Of all the lame ass excuses. Richie, I expected better than that from you!" she snapped.
Having let Richie dangle long enough, Duncan stepped in. "No Amanda, as it happens, that's exactly what Alex did. He built a taser, stuffed it in the hair dryer as camouflage, so that he could get in close enough to use it... then he zapped Richie into the middle of next week."
Amanda turned on Duncan. "I don't know which one is worse, Duncan. You or Richie. I......" She was cut off in mid diatribe by a quiet voice.
"Amanda, you might want to get it from the horse's mouth," Alex said, softly, but clearly.
Amanda looked ready to kill, but Cassandra lay her hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Let him finish," she said, as she nodded at Alex to continue.
Alex shrugged. "I worked on that taser quietly for quite a while when I first arrived in Seattle. For some reason you all had this blind spot when it came to my 'hobbies'. Computers and similar 'out of the box' stuff you watched like a hawk." Alex flashed a guileless looking grin. "However, for some reason or other, you never considered what I might build from scratch." He paused. "Anyway, I quit once I realized that you were playing straight with me," his eyes narrowed slightly and his voice took on an edge, "until recently that is." Amanda seemed like she was about to say something, but Alex cut her off with a sharp chopping motion of his hand. "In any event, I realized early on that the only thing that would bring Conterras out into the open would be suitable bait. That would be me. And since you all had *another* blind spot on *that* issue, I decided to take action on my own. I finished the taser and zapped Richie, then I baited Conterras out and killed him. End of story."
Amanda wasn't quite ready to back down yet. "Alex, even I can tell that you took a serious beating tonight. You obviously haven't healed up from that yet....*I* will want to see those wounds, and it doesn't clear these two..." she said, waving her hand at Duncan and Richie, "of the charge of letting you do something that you obviously weren't ready to do." She paused for breath and turned to Duncan with deeply suspicious eyes. "It also doesn't explain what you're doing out here tonight. I know you Duncan, you aren't the type to act on a whim. By the looks of him, Alex could probably have used a night to recover. Instead you dragged him out here tonight. What the hell's going on, Junior?"
Duncan raised his hands. "Amanda...I..."
"I called my friends back in Roswell to let them know that I was okay," Alex interrupted. "But that was secondary to the real reason. I had reason to believe that they'd be coming here, and I wanted to prevent that, if I could. It was a thin chance, but I had to take it. Anyway, I failed to convince them. They're coming, whether *you* like it or not. If they come by car it could be days before they get into town. If they come by air, it could be as early as tomorrow morning. So, Duncan decided to move out here ahead of schedule."
Privately Alex didn't think that he could hide from Isabel for that long. This was, in part because of her growing affinity for him...awake or asleep and vice versa, and partly because he wasn't sure that he wanted to anymore. He'd resisted the loneliness for as long as he possibly could. It had been hard enough before, but now it was nearly impossible. He needed her. He could feel her even now, as a warm presence in his mind, like a fire banked against the cold. Still, aliens or no, his friends weren't equipped to be a part of what was coming. The best that he could hope for was to stall them until things started to move... and pray that it would be all over before they were in any position to interfere. As he stood there and watched, he saw Amanda begin to gather steam for a major explosion.
Cassandra must have seen it as well, because she moved to head it off. "Why did you decide to call them now?" she asked.
Alex grinned mirthlessly and said, "I think that you already know why. If you need a hint though, I can tell you that there's an interesting side effect to the Quickening. It's a wonderful *memory* stimulator. There's nothing like a good Quickening for bringing to the surface those things that *other people* would just as soon have you forget." The cat was out of the bag now. Having spoken his piece, he folded his arms and waited.
Amanda's temper dissolved. "Oh shit," she muttered as she looked away.
Cassandra's stomach did a flip flop as she registered what he'd said, but the feeling only lasted for a moment. "I told them that it wouldn't last," she thought to herself, "I'd hoped for longer though." Then she sighed deeply and went on aloud. "I'll be apologizing for this for the next several months....."
"Try years? Or possibly decades?" Alex interrupted as he glanced around taking in Amanda and Duncan, so that they both knew that they were included too...and so that Cass knew that he wasn't blaming her alone.
Cassandra acknowledged it with a nod. "Just so. Be that as it may, it still doesn't explain......"
"And *I* won't explain it either. Or rather, I won't explain the how and why....but I will explain what," Alex growled. "Isabel and I have a metaphysical connection that's growing stronger all the time."
Cassandra glanced at Amanda who grimaced. When she looked back at Alex she found him staring at her intently.
"As a result of your meddling our memories were suppressed, but that connection was intact. When I fought Conterras, she felt my wounds as they happened. And when I endured the Quickening, she had to suffer through it with me. She went through all of that in complete and total ignorance of what was happening to her, and with no chance at all to try and shield herself from the brunt of it." His stare intensified to a glare as submerged anger began to surface. "I swear, if you weren't my friends......" His voice trailed off as he stormed over to the truck to drag out his duffle and sleeping bag. He hauled them up onto his shoulder and his fatigue was evident as he labored under the burden, but he angrily shrugged off attempts by the others to help, and angrily stalked into the building.
Once he was out of sight Cassandra let out her breath. "Well, that was interesting," she said. Her gaze settled on Duncan. "So, now what?"
Duncan shrugged. "Now we give him some space, while we wait for Britanicus and his merry men to show up." Then he noticed that Amanda was muttering to herself... and made the ever serious mistake of probing to find out why. "Amanda?"
She looked up sharply. "I *said*, 'I knew that there was something wrong last night!' But did you believe me? No-o-o!"
Duncan flinched inwardly at the sarcasm. And his night was about to get worse. Because Amanda had read something in his face. Guilt.
"What?" she asked as her eyes narrowed.
Duncan tried to affect innocence. "What 'what'?"
Amanda growled dangerously, closing the distance between them. "Don't try to play clueless with me MacLeod. I've known you for over four hundred years, and I could read you like a book... a very *thin* book.... from day one! If you ever expect to share a bed with me again, spit it out... right now. Because I'm in no mood to play the necessary games to drag it out of you!"
Duncan glanced at Methos, who simply shrugged and threw Duncan a 'now you've done it' look as he started looking for an escape route from what was to come.
Brief as it was, Amanda caught the glance. She looked over her shoulder at their ancient friend, who was trying to ease back into the asylum's front door, and snarled, "Freeze old man! I saw that. Whatever this is about, you're in on it too!" Turning her baleful gaze back on Duncan. "I'm going to count to three Duncan, after that you lose the body part of my choice. Would you care to guess exactly which body part that will be?" she asked as her eyes flicked significantly to the area below his belt line.
Duncan grinned. "You wouldn't tiger lady, you'd miss it as much as I would."
Amanda smiled sweetly. "Oh, but I wouldn't miss it at all, junior. I'd have it tanned and stuffed, that way it would be mine forever.... without the trouble that comes *attached* to it." A choking sound caused her to glance at Richie who was convulsing with silent laughter. "Don't laugh too hard bucko, you probably have a piece of this coming too!" she snapped.
Richie held up his hands in negation. "Oh no, not me. This is between you guys. Besides, waking up from that taser stun fulfilled my quota of misery for the evening." He unstrapped his bike's saddle bags, then walked over to the SUV to collect his heavier gear. "I'll talk to you all later. For now I'm going to go stake out a sleeping spot."
"Take something on the upper floor," Methos said. "I'd feel better if we weren't all bunched up. I'll show you where to park your bike," he paused as both women cleared their throats, then continued, "....in a little while."
Richie nodded, and walked inside, still chuckling to himself.
Cassandra joined Amanda in confronting Duncan. "Now that all the non-combatants are out of the way, why don't you two boys tell us what you *aren't* telling us? And why?" Sensing Duncan's continued hesitation she made an impatient noise. "Just tell us....."
".....or she'll just put a whammy on you both and you'll tell us anyway," finished Amanda. "Of course, while you're 'under' we might as well have a little fun with hypnotic suggestion." She studied Duncan thoughtfully. "You could always spend the rest of the evening believing that you're a chihuahua, you know?"
Duncan sighed. "Enough. You two are dangerous, do you know that? Methos and I were having a conversation yesterday evening whose topics included what was done to Alex and his lady friend. Alex overheard us. End of story."
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
"Show me the way to go home,
I'm tired an' I wanna go ta bed.
Ya see, I had a little drink, about an hour ago.
An' it's gone right to my head......"
~Nameless drinking song,
source unknown.~
STILL YOURS - Part 17a
(The Long Way Home)
Abandoned Bear Run Asylum, Tiger Mountain...........10:35 PM
Methos was on watch up on the roof walk when the headlights appeared on the rutted track leading up from the highway. He took cover in the guard shack and thumbed a button on a small walkie-talkie that came from the same pair that Cassandra and he had used six months earlier in Alex's rescue. The device's mate was with Cass downstairs. After a moment there was a soft hiss from the radio and Cassandra's voice spoke.
"Yes?"
Methos watched the approaching headlights as they bounced up what used to be a driveway. "Douse the lights. We have company coming to call."
There was a moment of silence then she reported. "Okay , we're in the dark here." There was a brief pause then, "How many?"
"I can only see one set of headlights," he answered.
"It's too soon for Musa to be here," she responded, "and he wouldn't approach this boldly anyway. Not at night."
Methos frowned thoughtfully. "That depends how just how many men that he feels he has to waste. Don't forget Cass, to Britanicus those people of his are just cannon fodder, most of them. If he has enough of them, he'll feel cocky."
"It's still too soon," she answered.
"I certainly hope it is," thought Methos, "because I never considered that the sonofawhore might try to catch us with our forces divided." He was shaking his head ruefully at his own short-sightedness when he noticed that the vehicle had stopped. It was still too far away to make out the model or type, but it wasn't too far to make out the patterned blink of the headlights. Two long, three short, four long. Methos heaved a sigh of relief as the vehicle started to move forward again. "Cass, you and Amanda can stand down. Whoever it is just gave the recognition signal. It's Duncan, or Richie. Or both, with Alex in tow. They're coming in."
Cassandra was silent for a moment. "I thought that they weren't supposed to join us until tomorrow night."
"That was only to allow Duncan time to put paid to Conterras," said Methos as he nodded to himself. "Lets hope that this means *good* news." He paused as he stood up. He could hear the distinctive growl of Duncan's SUV now. "They're almost here. I'm coming down. Off." Methos opened the trap door in the floor of the guard shack, which was hardly bigger than a largish telephone booth, and started down the aged,but still sturdy, ladder to a service alcove that opened onto the second floor hallway. By the time he had reached the main stairwell and made it downstairs, Cass and Amanda had the lights back on, and they were pulling the front doors open as the SUV rolled to a stop in front of them. The engine shut off and the doors opened, revealing Duncan and Alex. To Methos' trained eye, Alex seemed to be moving a little too slowly, as if he were recovering from an injury. Catching Duncan's eye he raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Duncan grimaced slightly. Methos grinned inwardly. There was obviously a story to tell, and he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy it enormously.
Amanda was equally aware that something was off with Alex, but side-tracked it long enough to give Duncan a kiss. "What are you two doing out here? And where's Richie?" she asked.
As the distant thrum of a motorcycle reached them, Duncan said, "He's trailing us on his bike. As for why we're here, Conterras is dead, and I thought that it wouldn't be a bad idea to evacuate out here a day early."
Cassandra was looking suspicious as well now, as she joined the conversation. "How did you manage to bring down Conterras? And why move now?"
Alex was holding back his laughter as he deadpanned, "He didn't kill Conterras, I did."
Both women spun back towards Alex and stared at him, in momentary bemusement, as his statement soaked in. Amanda was the first one to turn on Duncan. She backed him up against the SUV before he could prevent it, and said, "I thought that the plan was for *you* to keep Alex *in* while *you* hunted rat boy?" as she drove home each word with a stiffened index finger that jabbed into his chest.
Alex tried to cut in before Duncan could answer. "It's not like I gave them a choice....."
"Stay out of this!" barked both women, for Cassandra had joined Amanda in trapping Duncan up against the SUV.
Duncan held his hands up in a placating gesture, and applied a time honored tactic that all men have used in dealing with angry women. He passed the buck. "I was out hunting Conterras. Richie was the one that had Alex watch," he said with perfect timing, as Richie rolled his bike to a stop next to the SUV.
Richie dismounted his bike and set the kick stand, only to turn and find himself confronted by a smirking Duncan, a grinning Alex, a grinning Methos, and two women who looked mad enough to kill, or at least maim severely. His brain made the logical leap and he realized that he'd been sold out, and that he had to defuse the situation quickly or Cassandra would have him believing that he was a plucked chicken, or something worse. "He told you?"
"He told us that you let Alex get away from you!" Amanda growled.
Richie shrugged. "It's kinda hard to do anything when you're unconscious."
Cass frowned and glanced back at Alex, who simply shrugged and nodded. Amanda however was not distracted. "Really? What'd he do, wrestle you down and put a 'sleeper' on you?" she asked caustically.
She was about to go on when Cassandra placed a hand on her arm and said, "You know, it's not outside the realm of possibility that he did exactly that."
Amanda threw Cass a disgusted look. "Oh really?" She looked back at Richie. "Well, is that what he did? Overpower you?"
Richie flushed, then got control of himself and grinned ruefully. "No." Then he continued, overriding the triumphant expression on Amanda's face before she could say anything else. "He took my hair dryer and rebuilt it into a taser."
Amanda's glare intensified. "Of all the lame ass excuses. Richie, I expected better than that from you!" she snapped.
Having let Richie dangle long enough, Duncan stepped in. "No Amanda, as it happens, that's exactly what Alex did. He built a taser, stuffed it in the hair dryer as camouflage, so that he could get in close enough to use it... then he zapped Richie into the middle of next week."
Amanda turned on Duncan. "I don't know which one is worse, Duncan. You or Richie. I......" She was cut off in mid diatribe by a quiet voice.
"Amanda, you might want to get it from the horse's mouth," Alex said, softly, but clearly.
Amanda looked ready to kill, but Cassandra lay her hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Let him finish," she said, as she nodded at Alex to continue.
Alex shrugged. "I worked on that taser quietly for quite a while when I first arrived in Seattle. For some reason you all had this blind spot when it came to my 'hobbies'. Computers and similar 'out of the box' stuff you watched like a hawk." Alex flashed a guileless looking grin. "However, for some reason or other, you never considered what I might build from scratch." He paused. "Anyway, I quit once I realized that you were playing straight with me," his eyes narrowed slightly and his voice took on an edge, "until recently that is." Amanda seemed like she was about to say something, but Alex cut her off with a sharp chopping motion of his hand. "In any event, I realized early on that the only thing that would bring Conterras out into the open would be suitable bait. That would be me. And since you all had *another* blind spot on *that* issue, I decided to take action on my own. I finished the taser and zapped Richie, then I baited Conterras out and killed him. End of story."
Amanda wasn't quite ready to back down yet. "Alex, even I can tell that you took a serious beating tonight. You obviously haven't healed up from that yet....*I* will want to see those wounds, and it doesn't clear these two..." she said, waving her hand at Duncan and Richie, "of the charge of letting you do something that you obviously weren't ready to do." She paused for breath and turned to Duncan with deeply suspicious eyes. "It also doesn't explain what you're doing out here tonight. I know you Duncan, you aren't the type to act on a whim. By the looks of him, Alex could probably have used a night to recover. Instead you dragged him out here tonight. What the hell's going on, Junior?"
Duncan raised his hands. "Amanda...I..."
"I called my friends back in Roswell to let them know that I was okay," Alex interrupted. "But that was secondary to the real reason. I had reason to believe that they'd be coming here, and I wanted to prevent that, if I could. It was a thin chance, but I had to take it. Anyway, I failed to convince them. They're coming, whether *you* like it or not. If they come by car it could be days before they get into town. If they come by air, it could be as early as tomorrow morning. So, Duncan decided to move out here ahead of schedule."
Privately Alex didn't think that he could hide from Isabel for that long. This was, in part because of her growing affinity for him...awake or asleep and vice versa, and partly because he wasn't sure that he wanted to anymore. He'd resisted the loneliness for as long as he possibly could. It had been hard enough before, but now it was nearly impossible. He needed her. He could feel her even now, as a warm presence in his mind, like a fire banked against the cold. Still, aliens or no, his friends weren't equipped to be a part of what was coming. The best that he could hope for was to stall them until things started to move... and pray that it would be all over before they were in any position to interfere. As he stood there and watched, he saw Amanda begin to gather steam for a major explosion.
Cassandra must have seen it as well, because she moved to head it off. "Why did you decide to call them now?" she asked.
Alex grinned mirthlessly and said, "I think that you already know why. If you need a hint though, I can tell you that there's an interesting side effect to the Quickening. It's a wonderful *memory* stimulator. There's nothing like a good Quickening for bringing to the surface those things that *other people* would just as soon have you forget." The cat was out of the bag now. Having spoken his piece, he folded his arms and waited.
Amanda's temper dissolved. "Oh shit," she muttered as she looked away.
Cassandra's stomach did a flip flop as she registered what he'd said, but the feeling only lasted for a moment. "I told them that it wouldn't last," she thought to herself, "I'd hoped for longer though." Then she sighed deeply and went on aloud. "I'll be apologizing for this for the next several months....."
"Try years? Or possibly decades?" Alex interrupted as he glanced around taking in Amanda and Duncan, so that they both knew that they were included too...and so that Cass knew that he wasn't blaming her alone.
Cassandra acknowledged it with a nod. "Just so. Be that as it may, it still doesn't explain......"
"And *I* won't explain it either. Or rather, I won't explain the how and why....but I will explain what," Alex growled. "Isabel and I have a metaphysical connection that's growing stronger all the time."
Cassandra glanced at Amanda who grimaced. When she looked back at Alex she found him staring at her intently.
"As a result of your meddling our memories were suppressed, but that connection was intact. When I fought Conterras, she felt my wounds as they happened. And when I endured the Quickening, she had to suffer through it with me. She went through all of that in complete and total ignorance of what was happening to her, and with no chance at all to try and shield herself from the brunt of it." His stare intensified to a glare as submerged anger began to surface. "I swear, if you weren't my friends......" His voice trailed off as he stormed over to the truck to drag out his duffle and sleeping bag. He hauled them up onto his shoulder and his fatigue was evident as he labored under the burden, but he angrily shrugged off attempts by the others to help, and angrily stalked into the building.
Once he was out of sight Cassandra let out her breath. "Well, that was interesting," she said. Her gaze settled on Duncan. "So, now what?"
Duncan shrugged. "Now we give him some space, while we wait for Britanicus and his merry men to show up." Then he noticed that Amanda was muttering to herself... and made the ever serious mistake of probing to find out why. "Amanda?"
She looked up sharply. "I *said*, 'I knew that there was something wrong last night!' But did you believe me? No-o-o!"
Duncan flinched inwardly at the sarcasm. And his night was about to get worse. Because Amanda had read something in his face. Guilt.
"What?" she asked as her eyes narrowed.
Duncan tried to affect innocence. "What 'what'?"
Amanda growled dangerously, closing the distance between them. "Don't try to play clueless with me MacLeod. I've known you for over four hundred years, and I could read you like a book... a very *thin* book.... from day one! If you ever expect to share a bed with me again, spit it out... right now. Because I'm in no mood to play the necessary games to drag it out of you!"
Duncan glanced at Methos, who simply shrugged and threw Duncan a 'now you've done it' look as he started looking for an escape route from what was to come.
Brief as it was, Amanda caught the glance. She looked over her shoulder at their ancient friend, who was trying to ease back into the asylum's front door, and snarled, "Freeze old man! I saw that. Whatever this is about, you're in on it too!" Turning her baleful gaze back on Duncan. "I'm going to count to three Duncan, after that you lose the body part of my choice. Would you care to guess exactly which body part that will be?" she asked as her eyes flicked significantly to the area below his belt line.
Duncan grinned. "You wouldn't tiger lady, you'd miss it as much as I would."
Amanda smiled sweetly. "Oh, but I wouldn't miss it at all, junior. I'd have it tanned and stuffed, that way it would be mine forever.... without the trouble that comes *attached* to it." A choking sound caused her to glance at Richie who was convulsing with silent laughter. "Don't laugh too hard bucko, you probably have a piece of this coming too!" she snapped.
Richie held up his hands in negation. "Oh no, not me. This is between you guys. Besides, waking up from that taser stun fulfilled my quota of misery for the evening." He unstrapped his bike's saddle bags, then walked over to the SUV to collect his heavier gear. "I'll talk to you all later. For now I'm going to go stake out a sleeping spot."
"Take something on the upper floor," Methos said. "I'd feel better if we weren't all bunched up. I'll show you where to park your bike," he paused as both women cleared their throats, then continued, "....in a little while."
Richie nodded, and walked inside, still chuckling to himself.
Cassandra joined Amanda in confronting Duncan. "Now that all the non-combatants are out of the way, why don't you two boys tell us what you *aren't* telling us? And why?" Sensing Duncan's continued hesitation she made an impatient noise. "Just tell us....."
".....or she'll just put a whammy on you both and you'll tell us anyway," finished Amanda. "Of course, while you're 'under' we might as well have a little fun with hypnotic suggestion." She studied Duncan thoughtfully. "You could always spend the rest of the evening believing that you're a chihuahua, you know?"
Duncan sighed. "Enough. You two are dangerous, do you know that? Methos and I were having a conversation yesterday evening whose topics included what was done to Alex and his lady friend. Alex overheard us. End of story."
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Sat Feb 25, 2006 8:30 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17b
(The Long Way Home)
Amanda cocked her head at Duncan's final words. "Now I see where Alex gets this assertiveness from. He's become a mini-you. Well I have news for you junior, it doesn't play well on either one of you."
Duncan shook his head. "Really? Do tell. Well, I've got news for you grandma, this 'domineering mother from hell' thing doesn't play well on you either." He turned to Methos and tossed him the keys to the truck. "I'll get Richie and we'll get the wheels out of sight."
Methos nodded and caught the keys as Duncan spun on his heal and marched out of sight into the building. Then he walked around to the driver's side of the SUV. He felt Amanda's eyes on him every step of the way, his hand was actually on the door handle when she finally broke down and spoke.
She was still angry, and it showed in her voice. "Aren't you going to say anything Old Man?"
Methos paused and leaned on the front fender of the SUV, and rested his hands on the hood. "What do you want me to say Amanda? That Duncan's wrong? News flash, he's not. Or do you want me to say that we, he and I, suffered a lapse in judgment talking about 'the big secret' in the same building as Alex? Okay, yes, we did. Of course there really shouldn't have *been* a big secret to begin with... but I wasn't consulted on that score." Methos paused and sighed. "But it's spilled milk. Water over the dam. Past tense. The boy found out, acted accordingly, and came out on top. We haven't gotten the play by play yet, but I'd be willing to guess that Alex planned, prepared, and played Conterras like the arrogant fool that he was. He certainly played Richie and Duncan well enough, now didn't he?" Amanda seemed to want to say something, but Methos overrode her. "Alex won because we trained him to win, and he had the native intelligence to use that training. Amanda, I sympathize, I really do, but for God's sake, *cut* the damned apron strings will you?" Methos weary gaze shifted to cover both women. "It was time for him to grow up. And , unless I miss my guess, he just did a big slug of it tonight. If this weekend pans out the way that we think that it will, he's going to need all of the confidence at his command, just to keep his head until sunrise Monday. So, just get over it. God knows, I love you both, but the boy hasn't needed this sort of smothering since long before any of *us* met him." His eyes settled on Cassandra alone now. "And you know it."
Cassandra had no time to answer his unsubtle gibe, because Duncan and Richie picked that moment to come back outside. Richie went straight to his bike and started it up. Methos slid into the driver's seat and started the SUV's engine, as Duncan wordlessly dragged his gear and a few bags of supplies from the rear of the truck and dropped them on the front steps. Then Duncan climbed into the truck, then Methos pulled out and around the weed grown circular drive, with Richie in tow. The two women watched silently as the men and vehicles vanished into the darkness headed towards the land behind the asylum.
Amanda and Cassandra were left standing there with their own thoughts, one angry, the other bemused.
"Can you believe that crap?" Amanda fulminated. "They gave us the brush off. If Duncan thinks that this is over, he can think again!"
Cassandra shrugged. "They're right. Let it go Amanda. He isn't a little boy, and he was never *our* little boy to begin with. And I suspect that, very shortly, he'll be Isabel's sole property anyway, if he isn't already."
Amanda swung around and glared at Cassandra. "You're being awfully blasé about this."
Cassandra shook her head with resignation. "No, I simply know when to cut my losses and retire from the field. Which, if you have the sense that I think you have, is what you'll do as well." As she turned to leave, Amanda stopped her.
"Where are you going?" she asked testily.
"I'm going to make sure that Alex is settled for the night," said Cassandra, with a grin. "And, if he's not, I might just pump him for a little information, otherwise we'll have to settle for whatever Duncan decides to tell us. In his present mood I don't count on that being very much." She finished turning and walked inside, leaving a still fuming Amanda on the front steps.
Actually, at that moment, her thoughts were far from Alex. Instead they were focused on the fact that Methos had casually tossed the L-word in her direction, in mixed company, and it had apparently gone unnoticed by both Amanda and Methos himself. What did this mean? Did it mean anything? She gave a disparaging laugh. Why did it have to mean anything at all, and why was she obsessing like a giddy school girl? Her thoughts were broken by the bang of the front door and Amanda's bellow.
"Hold it right there!"
Cassandra turned to see Amanda crossing the lobby floor, dragging Duncan's duffle bag and burdened with assorted items of gear. "You don't get off that easy," she growled. "There are some bags of groceries and whatnot still out on the steps. Do your part and go get them." With that she vanished through the door into the high security wing, where she had set up her 'bedroom'.
Cassandra smirked knowingly. She'd pay good money to see Amanda eat crow, but it was unlikely that she would get the privilege. Sighing she went back outside and rounded up the groceries. It took two trips, but she got it all. As she dropped the second bag, Amanda emerged from the high security wing. "Is Alex back there?" queried Cass.
Amanda shook her head as they both looked up the stairs. He'd be up there then, probably wherever Richie had set up camp, they'd find Alex. Looking back at Cassandra she said, "Y'know, he probably isn't just real happy with us at the moment."
Cassandra nodded. "I know that, but as long as we stick to the battle and don't pry about his friends I'd say that we're on safe ground. He may not be polite about it, but he's too... civilized... not to talk if we ask questions." Cass paused to glance at her companion. "He may be angry with us, but he doesn't hate us." She sighed. "Though it's not like we didn't give him reason to. That poor girl....." she trailed off.
Amanda looked thoughtful. "I really want to get a look at what that bastard did to him before the wounds disappear completely, that will tell me what I need to know about how the fight really went." She grinned. "If that means letting him tear strips out of us," her grin morphed into a smirk, " or out of *you*, then so be it."
Cassandra shook her head in mock disgust. "Trust you to let me play 'sacrificial lamb'." She gestured to the stairs. "Shall we then?"
Amanda nodded. "Certainly, but age before beauty...grandma."
Cassandra growled. "Watch your mouth 'little girl'. I know where you sleep." Cassandra smirked. "Besides, we have an impasse, since I have both the age *and* the beauty here."
Amanda snorted. "Keep telling yourself that. After this is over, and we have our girls night, we'll have a little contest to see how many men we can attract in one night. High score wins. Want to bet on it?"
Cassandra regarded her friend cautiously, recalling the last time that she'd bet on something with Amanda. "Okay, it's a bet, for one round of drinks at the end of the night."
Amanda frowned, she was never one to take the first offer. "Two rounds, and the loser pays the cab fare home."
Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief. It was a given that she would lose. Amanda would cheat if need be. She was getting off cheaply. "Done."
Of course she wouldn't get off *that* cheaply, but she couldn't know that at the time.
Having burned off some of their fear and worry with horseplay, they cautiously ascended the stairs together to seek out their surrogate son, and get a few answers from him as they tried to mend fences.
While they were doing that Methos took Duncan, with Richie following, on a bumpy and circuitous route that ended in a deep gully about one hundred yards from the asylum. There was no 'road' per se leading into the narrow cut, just a dry stream bed, that was relatively smooth. The 'stream' itself passed under the trail/road through an elderly culvert. About thirty yards into the cut Methos stopped. Duncan used a lantern to examine their surroundings.
"Okay, I give up, where's the long-term parking at?" he said with no little curiosity.
Methos chuckled. "Closer than you think." With that he opened the door, clicked on a heavy flashlight, and walked about twenty feet to what looked like an overgrown indentation in the side of the gully. Picking up a rope that had been hidden in the brush, he stuffed the flashlight into his belt, and began to pull, hand over hand. As he did so, some of the small shrubs and trees bent aside, opening up the way to the back wall of the hollow in the gully's side. When the rope had no more give left in it, he hooked a pre-tied loop over the stub of a broken tree branch, then he walked to the other side of the declivity and repeated the process with a similar rope that he picked up there. After he tied it off, he stepped into the resulting opening and waved to Duncan and Richie with the flashlight before turning and vanishing into the side of the gully. Or rather he walked into the hole in the side of the gully which the overhanging trees and brush had been hiding very effectively.
Duncan stared after him for a moment then slid over into the driver's seat and put the SUV in gear. A moment of back and fill had him pointed into the low wide hole. Driving into it cautiously he found the roof of the passage beyond rose somewhat once you were inside, and the walls opened up a bit. The result was roomy. He could see Methos' light dancing off of the walls far ahead so he carefully crawled forward as his head lights illuminated the walls, floor and ceiling ahead. He could tell that he was climbing a shallow grade, and after traveling about seventy-five yards the floor suddenly leveled as the walls fell away to either side and the ceiling rose to be lost in darkness above him. He was obviously entering a substantial room. He brought the SUV to a slam stop in surprise. Behind him he heard the horn on Richie's bike sound, indicating his irritation at the sudden stop, and sounding impossibly loud in their confined surroundings. As the echoes died and his hearing returned Duncan could make out a partially deafened Richie cursing behind him.
"Good," Duncan thought. "Serves him right." He was startled as illumination flickered and a pool of light sprang up ahead, in which he could see another SUV, and Methos. Throwing his own truck back into gear he drove over to join Methos in the lighted area. The surface over which he drove felt smooth and hard. Surprisingly so. As he pulled to a stop next to Methos' elderly Bronco, Richie pulled up next to him.
Duncan was getting out of the truck when Methos addressed Richie. "Richie? Did you see how that rope gimmick worked that got us in here?"
Richie nodded. "Yup, pretty slick too. Pulleys to assist I assume?"
Methos nodded back. "You assume right. How about going back down the tunnel and releasing those ropes to hide the entrance again?"
Richie chuckled. "I'm way ahead of you. I assumed that we wouldn't want to leave the garage door open, so I stopped on the way in and released the ropes."
Methos grinned in appreciation. "Thanks." Then he waved his hands around the cave. "Well, what do you think of the garage?"
Duncan had been using his flashlight to study the cave. Distances and spatial relationships can play tricks underground, on eyes unaccustomed to the environment. But Duncan had been in enough caves to be confident of his guess. The ceiling had a few rough spots, but was dome-like for the most part as it smoothly joined with the walls to sweep down to the floor. The chamber was at least one hundred and thirty feet across, maybe a little oblong, and perhaps forty or forty-five feet high over all. Higher in a few places, but not by much. Here and there, wood and metal debris suggested previous human use of the cavern. Shadowed spots on the walls suggested other openings, leading who knew where. There was a distant squeaking from one of those shadows that said that the cave, or caves, had other residents. Bats. Duncan scuffed at the floor with his boot. It looked like a fine hard packed powder. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The cave air was still, and somewhat damp, but not unduly so. In fact it felt drier than he would have expected. He opened his eyes and looked at Methos.
"Whatever this cave was, however it formed, it's dead now," he said. "I don't see any flow stone or stalagmites, so this isn't a standard limestone seep." He glanced around. "Are you sure that this place is safe? 'Dead' caves are a helluva a lot more dangerous than 'live' ones."
Methos smiled and said quietly, "What this place *is*, is a great rarity, especially for this geological area. When I researched the asylum I ran into a reference to it in an old newspaper. Apparently it's been completely forgotten. It's a magma chamber that inflated, but that never went any further."
Richie glanced around uncertainly. "This is an old volcano?"
Methos made a see-sawing motion with his hand. "Define old. From everything that I've been able to gather, it's been dead as a door nail for longer than there've been people on this earth. It was probably cold before the dinosaurs went extinct. Ancient would probably be closer to the mark. So, as volcanoes go, this one was stillborn. The chamber grew to a certain point, but never went any further. I read an article on it in...." Methos fell silent as Duncan cut him off.
"Not that I don't find the lecture fascinating, but could you hold the 'Discovery Channel' version and give us the Cliffs Notes version?" Duncan asked. "Because it's already late, and we have a long walk back to shelter."
Methos chuckled. "Not as far as you might think my friend." Then he went on. "Okay to make it short, this chamber is rock solid. At some point it *was* connected to a 'live' cave system, because this soil under our feet," Methos scuffed at the dust with a boot, "is decomposed limestone, laid down as sediment in standing water over a long period of time. The cave is dry now, and has been since the builders of the asylum discovered it." Methos flipped a switch on a panel and a curving row of baby floodlights on the floor lit up to define a path leading to the nearest dark spot on the cave wall a further light inside of it showed it to be another tunnel.
"This way gentlemen," said Methos as he indicated the path with a flamboyant gesture.
"Where are you getting the electricity for this?" Richie asked as they followed the lights.
"Batteries," Methos answered. "I have fifteen truck batteries sitting in a rack in an alcove back there. In that same alcove is a small gasoline powered generator on a timer. Once a week , on weekends, it fires up automatically and trickle charges the batteries a bit to keep them topped up."
Richie shook his head in admiration for the planning and effort that had gone into this. "I remember thinking that you were the last word in prepared when we looked this place over the first time, I take it back now. You aren't just prepared, you're paranoid."
Methos mimed an exaggerated facial tick. "I thank you for the compliment, and my other personalities thank you as well."
Richie chuckled, but was cut off as Duncan spoke up. "Methos, that generator... is it still on that timer?"
"I may be old, but senile I'm not, sonny boy," he answered. "I disabled that timer first thing yesterday. The whole point of a secret parking spot is that it remain a secret. And I assume that you've noticed how this place amplifies sound?" Noting Richie's sheepish look Methos nodded. " Noisy little gas generators are contra-indicated. It's served it's purpose. It kept this place ready to go." Reaching the tunnel opening Methos entered and turned abruptly left to begin ascending a stairway that appeared to have been chiseled out of the surrounding rock. "This stairway is part natural, and part manmade," Methos said as they went up two dozen steps to a landing and turned right to ascend another twelve or so steps to another landing faced with a heavy iron bound wooden door.
Methos pulled out a heavy key ring and jammed a selected key in the lock and turned. The lock operated noiselessly and smoothly, as did the door. More evidence that Methos had been at work. As it swung open Methos hit a switch at the rock wall behind them, killing the cave lights behind them. They were now dependent on their flashlights completely.
As Duncan and Richie looked around they were surprised to find themselves in an ordinary looking, if old-fashioned, cellar. A suspicion blossomed in Duncan's mind. "Where are we?" he asked Methos.
Chuckling again Methos answered, "I think that you've already figured that out. It's the cellar of the asylum."
Richie grinned in delight and looked back at the door they had just come through. "I don't believe it!"
"Believe it," Methos answered. "It fools you. The cave entrance is down hill from here, and in a gully to boot. Add the fact that it's dark outside and you can lose track of things pretty easily. I did the first time, and I was here in broad daylight."
Duncan frowned thoughtfully. "What did the people that ran the asylum use the cave for?"
Methos shrugged. "Initially it was a stable and barn. Later it was a warehouse and a shelter in case of storm or fire."
Duncan nodded. "And what are the odds that Britanicus knows about it?"
"Slim," Methos said as he shook his head. "I paid some serious money to have the records of this place expunged. I couldn't get everything, but that cave was little known and easy to 'erase'. From what little information on the cave there was, I get the distinct impression that someone else had the same idea at some time or other, but only did a half-hearted job of it. I was a lot more thorough. So, I'm pretty confident that he doesn't have a clue."
Duncan's frown was back. "Just the same, I don't like having an unguarded back door."
Methos grinned. "Did I say that I left it unguarded?" He held up what looked like an innocuous pocket pager. "That cave entrance, the vehicle park, the battery area, and the approach to the door all have motion and thermal sensors covering them and running off of the batteries. If anything bigger than a dog invades two or more of those areas, or if the batteries fail, I'll know about it. Like I keep saying... old, not senile."
Richie shook his head and muttered what sounded like 'paranoid', only to have Methos take a mock swing at him.
"Not paranoid, just prepared," he said conversationally. "I'm five thousand years old and I'm still here while all the other guys are dead. I offer that as proof positive that my way works." He paused. "The thing is, someone else was here before me. The place was in much better shape than I would have expected, if it had been completely abandoned since the asylum closed up shop, which suggests that someone took the time to maintain and fix a few things at some point in the past. Very probably the same someone, or someones, who tried to erase this place from public memory." Methos walked over to a crate next to the wall. It was one of nearly a dozen similar crates. He flipped a lid off and reached into the crate as he said, "And I think I know who." He hoisted a bottle from the crate and tossed it to Duncan who caught it cleanly.
Duncan shined his flashlight on the bottle and then looked back at Methos. "Whiskey?"
Methos nodded. "Not just any whiskey. Canadian whiskey." He waved his hands at the crates. "Also some premium scotch, some brandy, and a crate of very good cognac."
Richie frowned. "I hate to rain on your parade, but isn't the owner of all of this likely to come back looking for his booze? I mean, it's obviously smuggled, am I right?"
Methos gave a snort. "Duncan, look at the bottling date."
MacLeod studied the bottle a moment. "1932? But that's right before...."
"Prohibition ended," Methos finished. "All of this stuff bears that date, or earlier. So, no I don't think that anyone is coming back for it. When they repealed the Eighteenth Amendment a lot of illegal hooch must have still been in transit. With Seattle being a major port, and this close to the border to boot, it must have seen a LOT of bootlegging traffic." He waved his hands to indicate their surroundings. "This place would have been a perfect warehouse. Safe, dry, isolated, and secure. So of course they'd try to hide it further by trying to expunge records referring to it. In any event, when Prohibition ended, the smuggling networks became unprofitable overnight and fell apart. I assume that this stuff was just simply abandoned here where it sat. It looks like a lot, but it's really not even a fraction of a truck load, and bootleggers turned their profit on volume. So it probably wasn't worth coming back for."
Methos reached out, took the bottle from Duncan, and worried the cork out. Running the bottle under his nose he inhaled deeply, then he brought the bottle to his lips and took a modest sip. Smacking his lips he passed the bottle back to Duncan, who copied him. Duncan blinked in surprise then passed the bottle to Richie without comment.
Richie cautiously took a sip and got a puzzled look. "I'm no expert, but this is a little better than your average whiskey, isn't it? I mean I'm not a big whiskey drinker, but the stuff that I've tasted has a few more claws to it."
Methos chuckled. "Think about it boys. This stuff has been sitting here, undisturbed, mellowing out for nearly seventy years. Longer in some cases. By now, even the worst sort of rot gut must be approaching 'nectar of the gods' status." He grinned and gestured and the pile of crates. "Welcome to my private stash." He retrieved the bottle from Richie, reseated the cork, drove it home with a blow from the heel of his hand, and returned it to it's crate.
Duncan shook his head in silent admiration. "I expect to have some of this in my own stock when this is over old man." He paused. "Has it occurred to you that the women might react badly when we come upstairs smelling of liquor?"
Methos grimaced and retrieved the bottle from it's resting place. "Point taken. We'd best take this along just in case."
Richie frowned. "Why?"
Methos shrugged. "If I can get them to take a drink, they lose the moral high ground. If I can't get them to take a drink, then a little more and I won't care that they have the moral high ground." He grinned. "For me it's a win-win situation.
Duncan shook his head. "My friend, you're a bad influence on the young."
Methos nodded. "Yup, and I intend to go right on being one. Let's go men, the women await."
They turned and, with Methos in the lead, headed upstairs; their lights and the sounds of footsteps fading, as the silent sentinels that Methos had placed resumed their lonely vigil.
Sometimes even the bravest hero needs to take a little time off to behave like an idiot.....and make the women furious.
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17b
(The Long Way Home)
Amanda cocked her head at Duncan's final words. "Now I see where Alex gets this assertiveness from. He's become a mini-you. Well I have news for you junior, it doesn't play well on either one of you."
Duncan shook his head. "Really? Do tell. Well, I've got news for you grandma, this 'domineering mother from hell' thing doesn't play well on you either." He turned to Methos and tossed him the keys to the truck. "I'll get Richie and we'll get the wheels out of sight."
Methos nodded and caught the keys as Duncan spun on his heal and marched out of sight into the building. Then he walked around to the driver's side of the SUV. He felt Amanda's eyes on him every step of the way, his hand was actually on the door handle when she finally broke down and spoke.
She was still angry, and it showed in her voice. "Aren't you going to say anything Old Man?"
Methos paused and leaned on the front fender of the SUV, and rested his hands on the hood. "What do you want me to say Amanda? That Duncan's wrong? News flash, he's not. Or do you want me to say that we, he and I, suffered a lapse in judgment talking about 'the big secret' in the same building as Alex? Okay, yes, we did. Of course there really shouldn't have *been* a big secret to begin with... but I wasn't consulted on that score." Methos paused and sighed. "But it's spilled milk. Water over the dam. Past tense. The boy found out, acted accordingly, and came out on top. We haven't gotten the play by play yet, but I'd be willing to guess that Alex planned, prepared, and played Conterras like the arrogant fool that he was. He certainly played Richie and Duncan well enough, now didn't he?" Amanda seemed to want to say something, but Methos overrode her. "Alex won because we trained him to win, and he had the native intelligence to use that training. Amanda, I sympathize, I really do, but for God's sake, *cut* the damned apron strings will you?" Methos weary gaze shifted to cover both women. "It was time for him to grow up. And , unless I miss my guess, he just did a big slug of it tonight. If this weekend pans out the way that we think that it will, he's going to need all of the confidence at his command, just to keep his head until sunrise Monday. So, just get over it. God knows, I love you both, but the boy hasn't needed this sort of smothering since long before any of *us* met him." His eyes settled on Cassandra alone now. "And you know it."
Cassandra had no time to answer his unsubtle gibe, because Duncan and Richie picked that moment to come back outside. Richie went straight to his bike and started it up. Methos slid into the driver's seat and started the SUV's engine, as Duncan wordlessly dragged his gear and a few bags of supplies from the rear of the truck and dropped them on the front steps. Then Duncan climbed into the truck, then Methos pulled out and around the weed grown circular drive, with Richie in tow. The two women watched silently as the men and vehicles vanished into the darkness headed towards the land behind the asylum.
Amanda and Cassandra were left standing there with their own thoughts, one angry, the other bemused.
"Can you believe that crap?" Amanda fulminated. "They gave us the brush off. If Duncan thinks that this is over, he can think again!"
Cassandra shrugged. "They're right. Let it go Amanda. He isn't a little boy, and he was never *our* little boy to begin with. And I suspect that, very shortly, he'll be Isabel's sole property anyway, if he isn't already."
Amanda swung around and glared at Cassandra. "You're being awfully blasé about this."
Cassandra shook her head with resignation. "No, I simply know when to cut my losses and retire from the field. Which, if you have the sense that I think you have, is what you'll do as well." As she turned to leave, Amanda stopped her.
"Where are you going?" she asked testily.
"I'm going to make sure that Alex is settled for the night," said Cassandra, with a grin. "And, if he's not, I might just pump him for a little information, otherwise we'll have to settle for whatever Duncan decides to tell us. In his present mood I don't count on that being very much." She finished turning and walked inside, leaving a still fuming Amanda on the front steps.
Actually, at that moment, her thoughts were far from Alex. Instead they were focused on the fact that Methos had casually tossed the L-word in her direction, in mixed company, and it had apparently gone unnoticed by both Amanda and Methos himself. What did this mean? Did it mean anything? She gave a disparaging laugh. Why did it have to mean anything at all, and why was she obsessing like a giddy school girl? Her thoughts were broken by the bang of the front door and Amanda's bellow.
"Hold it right there!"
Cassandra turned to see Amanda crossing the lobby floor, dragging Duncan's duffle bag and burdened with assorted items of gear. "You don't get off that easy," she growled. "There are some bags of groceries and whatnot still out on the steps. Do your part and go get them." With that she vanished through the door into the high security wing, where she had set up her 'bedroom'.
Cassandra smirked knowingly. She'd pay good money to see Amanda eat crow, but it was unlikely that she would get the privilege. Sighing she went back outside and rounded up the groceries. It took two trips, but she got it all. As she dropped the second bag, Amanda emerged from the high security wing. "Is Alex back there?" queried Cass.
Amanda shook her head as they both looked up the stairs. He'd be up there then, probably wherever Richie had set up camp, they'd find Alex. Looking back at Cassandra she said, "Y'know, he probably isn't just real happy with us at the moment."
Cassandra nodded. "I know that, but as long as we stick to the battle and don't pry about his friends I'd say that we're on safe ground. He may not be polite about it, but he's too... civilized... not to talk if we ask questions." Cass paused to glance at her companion. "He may be angry with us, but he doesn't hate us." She sighed. "Though it's not like we didn't give him reason to. That poor girl....." she trailed off.
Amanda looked thoughtful. "I really want to get a look at what that bastard did to him before the wounds disappear completely, that will tell me what I need to know about how the fight really went." She grinned. "If that means letting him tear strips out of us," her grin morphed into a smirk, " or out of *you*, then so be it."
Cassandra shook her head in mock disgust. "Trust you to let me play 'sacrificial lamb'." She gestured to the stairs. "Shall we then?"
Amanda nodded. "Certainly, but age before beauty...grandma."
Cassandra growled. "Watch your mouth 'little girl'. I know where you sleep." Cassandra smirked. "Besides, we have an impasse, since I have both the age *and* the beauty here."
Amanda snorted. "Keep telling yourself that. After this is over, and we have our girls night, we'll have a little contest to see how many men we can attract in one night. High score wins. Want to bet on it?"
Cassandra regarded her friend cautiously, recalling the last time that she'd bet on something with Amanda. "Okay, it's a bet, for one round of drinks at the end of the night."
Amanda frowned, she was never one to take the first offer. "Two rounds, and the loser pays the cab fare home."
Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief. It was a given that she would lose. Amanda would cheat if need be. She was getting off cheaply. "Done."
Of course she wouldn't get off *that* cheaply, but she couldn't know that at the time.
Having burned off some of their fear and worry with horseplay, they cautiously ascended the stairs together to seek out their surrogate son, and get a few answers from him as they tried to mend fences.
While they were doing that Methos took Duncan, with Richie following, on a bumpy and circuitous route that ended in a deep gully about one hundred yards from the asylum. There was no 'road' per se leading into the narrow cut, just a dry stream bed, that was relatively smooth. The 'stream' itself passed under the trail/road through an elderly culvert. About thirty yards into the cut Methos stopped. Duncan used a lantern to examine their surroundings.
"Okay, I give up, where's the long-term parking at?" he said with no little curiosity.
Methos chuckled. "Closer than you think." With that he opened the door, clicked on a heavy flashlight, and walked about twenty feet to what looked like an overgrown indentation in the side of the gully. Picking up a rope that had been hidden in the brush, he stuffed the flashlight into his belt, and began to pull, hand over hand. As he did so, some of the small shrubs and trees bent aside, opening up the way to the back wall of the hollow in the gully's side. When the rope had no more give left in it, he hooked a pre-tied loop over the stub of a broken tree branch, then he walked to the other side of the declivity and repeated the process with a similar rope that he picked up there. After he tied it off, he stepped into the resulting opening and waved to Duncan and Richie with the flashlight before turning and vanishing into the side of the gully. Or rather he walked into the hole in the side of the gully which the overhanging trees and brush had been hiding very effectively.
Duncan stared after him for a moment then slid over into the driver's seat and put the SUV in gear. A moment of back and fill had him pointed into the low wide hole. Driving into it cautiously he found the roof of the passage beyond rose somewhat once you were inside, and the walls opened up a bit. The result was roomy. He could see Methos' light dancing off of the walls far ahead so he carefully crawled forward as his head lights illuminated the walls, floor and ceiling ahead. He could tell that he was climbing a shallow grade, and after traveling about seventy-five yards the floor suddenly leveled as the walls fell away to either side and the ceiling rose to be lost in darkness above him. He was obviously entering a substantial room. He brought the SUV to a slam stop in surprise. Behind him he heard the horn on Richie's bike sound, indicating his irritation at the sudden stop, and sounding impossibly loud in their confined surroundings. As the echoes died and his hearing returned Duncan could make out a partially deafened Richie cursing behind him.
"Good," Duncan thought. "Serves him right." He was startled as illumination flickered and a pool of light sprang up ahead, in which he could see another SUV, and Methos. Throwing his own truck back into gear he drove over to join Methos in the lighted area. The surface over which he drove felt smooth and hard. Surprisingly so. As he pulled to a stop next to Methos' elderly Bronco, Richie pulled up next to him.
Duncan was getting out of the truck when Methos addressed Richie. "Richie? Did you see how that rope gimmick worked that got us in here?"
Richie nodded. "Yup, pretty slick too. Pulleys to assist I assume?"
Methos nodded back. "You assume right. How about going back down the tunnel and releasing those ropes to hide the entrance again?"
Richie chuckled. "I'm way ahead of you. I assumed that we wouldn't want to leave the garage door open, so I stopped on the way in and released the ropes."
Methos grinned in appreciation. "Thanks." Then he waved his hands around the cave. "Well, what do you think of the garage?"
Duncan had been using his flashlight to study the cave. Distances and spatial relationships can play tricks underground, on eyes unaccustomed to the environment. But Duncan had been in enough caves to be confident of his guess. The ceiling had a few rough spots, but was dome-like for the most part as it smoothly joined with the walls to sweep down to the floor. The chamber was at least one hundred and thirty feet across, maybe a little oblong, and perhaps forty or forty-five feet high over all. Higher in a few places, but not by much. Here and there, wood and metal debris suggested previous human use of the cavern. Shadowed spots on the walls suggested other openings, leading who knew where. There was a distant squeaking from one of those shadows that said that the cave, or caves, had other residents. Bats. Duncan scuffed at the floor with his boot. It looked like a fine hard packed powder. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The cave air was still, and somewhat damp, but not unduly so. In fact it felt drier than he would have expected. He opened his eyes and looked at Methos.
"Whatever this cave was, however it formed, it's dead now," he said. "I don't see any flow stone or stalagmites, so this isn't a standard limestone seep." He glanced around. "Are you sure that this place is safe? 'Dead' caves are a helluva a lot more dangerous than 'live' ones."
Methos smiled and said quietly, "What this place *is*, is a great rarity, especially for this geological area. When I researched the asylum I ran into a reference to it in an old newspaper. Apparently it's been completely forgotten. It's a magma chamber that inflated, but that never went any further."
Richie glanced around uncertainly. "This is an old volcano?"
Methos made a see-sawing motion with his hand. "Define old. From everything that I've been able to gather, it's been dead as a door nail for longer than there've been people on this earth. It was probably cold before the dinosaurs went extinct. Ancient would probably be closer to the mark. So, as volcanoes go, this one was stillborn. The chamber grew to a certain point, but never went any further. I read an article on it in...." Methos fell silent as Duncan cut him off.
"Not that I don't find the lecture fascinating, but could you hold the 'Discovery Channel' version and give us the Cliffs Notes version?" Duncan asked. "Because it's already late, and we have a long walk back to shelter."
Methos chuckled. "Not as far as you might think my friend." Then he went on. "Okay to make it short, this chamber is rock solid. At some point it *was* connected to a 'live' cave system, because this soil under our feet," Methos scuffed at the dust with a boot, "is decomposed limestone, laid down as sediment in standing water over a long period of time. The cave is dry now, and has been since the builders of the asylum discovered it." Methos flipped a switch on a panel and a curving row of baby floodlights on the floor lit up to define a path leading to the nearest dark spot on the cave wall a further light inside of it showed it to be another tunnel.
"This way gentlemen," said Methos as he indicated the path with a flamboyant gesture.
"Where are you getting the electricity for this?" Richie asked as they followed the lights.
"Batteries," Methos answered. "I have fifteen truck batteries sitting in a rack in an alcove back there. In that same alcove is a small gasoline powered generator on a timer. Once a week , on weekends, it fires up automatically and trickle charges the batteries a bit to keep them topped up."
Richie shook his head in admiration for the planning and effort that had gone into this. "I remember thinking that you were the last word in prepared when we looked this place over the first time, I take it back now. You aren't just prepared, you're paranoid."
Methos mimed an exaggerated facial tick. "I thank you for the compliment, and my other personalities thank you as well."
Richie chuckled, but was cut off as Duncan spoke up. "Methos, that generator... is it still on that timer?"
"I may be old, but senile I'm not, sonny boy," he answered. "I disabled that timer first thing yesterday. The whole point of a secret parking spot is that it remain a secret. And I assume that you've noticed how this place amplifies sound?" Noting Richie's sheepish look Methos nodded. " Noisy little gas generators are contra-indicated. It's served it's purpose. It kept this place ready to go." Reaching the tunnel opening Methos entered and turned abruptly left to begin ascending a stairway that appeared to have been chiseled out of the surrounding rock. "This stairway is part natural, and part manmade," Methos said as they went up two dozen steps to a landing and turned right to ascend another twelve or so steps to another landing faced with a heavy iron bound wooden door.
Methos pulled out a heavy key ring and jammed a selected key in the lock and turned. The lock operated noiselessly and smoothly, as did the door. More evidence that Methos had been at work. As it swung open Methos hit a switch at the rock wall behind them, killing the cave lights behind them. They were now dependent on their flashlights completely.
As Duncan and Richie looked around they were surprised to find themselves in an ordinary looking, if old-fashioned, cellar. A suspicion blossomed in Duncan's mind. "Where are we?" he asked Methos.
Chuckling again Methos answered, "I think that you've already figured that out. It's the cellar of the asylum."
Richie grinned in delight and looked back at the door they had just come through. "I don't believe it!"
"Believe it," Methos answered. "It fools you. The cave entrance is down hill from here, and in a gully to boot. Add the fact that it's dark outside and you can lose track of things pretty easily. I did the first time, and I was here in broad daylight."
Duncan frowned thoughtfully. "What did the people that ran the asylum use the cave for?"
Methos shrugged. "Initially it was a stable and barn. Later it was a warehouse and a shelter in case of storm or fire."
Duncan nodded. "And what are the odds that Britanicus knows about it?"
"Slim," Methos said as he shook his head. "I paid some serious money to have the records of this place expunged. I couldn't get everything, but that cave was little known and easy to 'erase'. From what little information on the cave there was, I get the distinct impression that someone else had the same idea at some time or other, but only did a half-hearted job of it. I was a lot more thorough. So, I'm pretty confident that he doesn't have a clue."
Duncan's frown was back. "Just the same, I don't like having an unguarded back door."
Methos grinned. "Did I say that I left it unguarded?" He held up what looked like an innocuous pocket pager. "That cave entrance, the vehicle park, the battery area, and the approach to the door all have motion and thermal sensors covering them and running off of the batteries. If anything bigger than a dog invades two or more of those areas, or if the batteries fail, I'll know about it. Like I keep saying... old, not senile."
Richie shook his head and muttered what sounded like 'paranoid', only to have Methos take a mock swing at him.
"Not paranoid, just prepared," he said conversationally. "I'm five thousand years old and I'm still here while all the other guys are dead. I offer that as proof positive that my way works." He paused. "The thing is, someone else was here before me. The place was in much better shape than I would have expected, if it had been completely abandoned since the asylum closed up shop, which suggests that someone took the time to maintain and fix a few things at some point in the past. Very probably the same someone, or someones, who tried to erase this place from public memory." Methos walked over to a crate next to the wall. It was one of nearly a dozen similar crates. He flipped a lid off and reached into the crate as he said, "And I think I know who." He hoisted a bottle from the crate and tossed it to Duncan who caught it cleanly.
Duncan shined his flashlight on the bottle and then looked back at Methos. "Whiskey?"
Methos nodded. "Not just any whiskey. Canadian whiskey." He waved his hands at the crates. "Also some premium scotch, some brandy, and a crate of very good cognac."
Richie frowned. "I hate to rain on your parade, but isn't the owner of all of this likely to come back looking for his booze? I mean, it's obviously smuggled, am I right?"
Methos gave a snort. "Duncan, look at the bottling date."
MacLeod studied the bottle a moment. "1932? But that's right before...."
"Prohibition ended," Methos finished. "All of this stuff bears that date, or earlier. So, no I don't think that anyone is coming back for it. When they repealed the Eighteenth Amendment a lot of illegal hooch must have still been in transit. With Seattle being a major port, and this close to the border to boot, it must have seen a LOT of bootlegging traffic." He waved his hands to indicate their surroundings. "This place would have been a perfect warehouse. Safe, dry, isolated, and secure. So of course they'd try to hide it further by trying to expunge records referring to it. In any event, when Prohibition ended, the smuggling networks became unprofitable overnight and fell apart. I assume that this stuff was just simply abandoned here where it sat. It looks like a lot, but it's really not even a fraction of a truck load, and bootleggers turned their profit on volume. So it probably wasn't worth coming back for."
Methos reached out, took the bottle from Duncan, and worried the cork out. Running the bottle under his nose he inhaled deeply, then he brought the bottle to his lips and took a modest sip. Smacking his lips he passed the bottle back to Duncan, who copied him. Duncan blinked in surprise then passed the bottle to Richie without comment.
Richie cautiously took a sip and got a puzzled look. "I'm no expert, but this is a little better than your average whiskey, isn't it? I mean I'm not a big whiskey drinker, but the stuff that I've tasted has a few more claws to it."
Methos chuckled. "Think about it boys. This stuff has been sitting here, undisturbed, mellowing out for nearly seventy years. Longer in some cases. By now, even the worst sort of rot gut must be approaching 'nectar of the gods' status." He grinned and gestured and the pile of crates. "Welcome to my private stash." He retrieved the bottle from Richie, reseated the cork, drove it home with a blow from the heel of his hand, and returned it to it's crate.
Duncan shook his head in silent admiration. "I expect to have some of this in my own stock when this is over old man." He paused. "Has it occurred to you that the women might react badly when we come upstairs smelling of liquor?"
Methos grimaced and retrieved the bottle from it's resting place. "Point taken. We'd best take this along just in case."
Richie frowned. "Why?"
Methos shrugged. "If I can get them to take a drink, they lose the moral high ground. If I can't get them to take a drink, then a little more and I won't care that they have the moral high ground." He grinned. "For me it's a win-win situation.
Duncan shook his head. "My friend, you're a bad influence on the young."
Methos nodded. "Yup, and I intend to go right on being one. Let's go men, the women await."
They turned and, with Methos in the lead, headed upstairs; their lights and the sounds of footsteps fading, as the silent sentinels that Methos had placed resumed their lonely vigil.
Sometimes even the bravest hero needs to take a little time off to behave like an idiot.....and make the women furious.
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Sat Feb 25, 2006 8:31 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17c
(The Long Way Home)
The Evans Household.....Approximately the same time
Max stood in the driveway with his arms around his better half. They weren't kissing, or even feeling terribly passionate. They were simply, as Liz put it, enjoying some physical contact while they could get it. Some low key quality time. The group had broken up and gone their separate ways. Jim and Amy had gone home. Brody had stayed at the UFO Center to clean up his office and do some more research. He was now certain that they'd been under observation ever since Alex's 'death'.
The kids had taken it upon themselves to get Isabel home. It turned out that they all had a role to play in that project. Isabel was half asleep in the back of the Chevelle, propped up between Liz and Maria, before they'd even gotten home. Michael and Max had managed to carry her into the house and up to her bedroom while Kyle stood sentry outside, after which the girls had shooed the boys out of her bedroom before they'd undressed their semi-conscious friend, then gotten her into pajamas, and into bed. She'd been restive and whiny at first, until they'd given her the annual; the yearbook with Alex's picture. She was now sound sleep, clutching it like a child would clutch a favorite teddy bear. Liz and Maria had both made sure that she was tucked firmly in before retreating downstairs to join the men.
After some discussion, Michael and Kyle had headed for school about forty-five minutes earlier, intending to waste no time 'improving' the quake damage enough to keep them out of class for the rest of the week. Their plan was to park at the Valenti's and walk to the school, three blocks away, via alleys and backyards, staying out of sight. That left Max, Liz, and Maria to their own devices. It had been decided that the girls would take advantage of the screwed up day to spend the night together at Liz's. Liz's parents were understanding, once they'd cleared it with Amy, who was of course completely in the know.... and as usual she was feeling guilty about hiding things from the other parents involved. But not so guilty that she wouldn't take advantage of her daughter's and Kyle's absence from their respective beds to spend some one on one time with everyone's favorite sheriff. According to Maria her mother had been muttering something about 'bimbos who should know better', and 'it runs in the family'. What *that* indicated no one knew, but Amy seemed to be getting more and more territorial where James Valenti was concerned. A turn of events that didn't seem to bother Roswell's sheriff in the slightest.
Now it was just a matter of calling it a night. Max planned to stay up and wait for Kyle and Michael. Since Kyle was spending the night, Michael had decided to take up Max's standing offer and crash at the Evans house as well. All of this was based on some deep seated instinct for the 'buddy system' until things sorted themselves out. Months before, Alex's death had amputated a part of who they were as a group, leaving them feeling vulnerable. They were aware of it too, both collectively and as individuals. Yet, over the months, they'd grown accustomed to the hurt and loss, ignoring it as a part of the background noise of daily existence. Now though, tonight, they had the prospect of getting their friend back. Of, recovering the severed part of their identity, and making the group whole again. And that hope was making them ever more aware of that feeling of vulnerability. If they could have thought of an excuse to let Liz and Maria stay, they would have used it, rather than have the group fragmented tonight.
Though none of them were talking about it out loud, they were all terrified of failure. That something would snatch Alex away again before they could act.
Hence Liz was hesitant to leave, and Max didn't want to be separated from her, not even by a finger's width. Maria waited patiently, or as patiently as she could, in the car out at the curb as the couple clung to each other, enveloped in silence. Silence that is, to most people. Not to the hearing of soul mates.
Liz pressed herself close to her love, rubbing her cheek gently on his chest as she inhaled deeply, memorizing his scent again. She was doing something that she seldom did anymore. Luxuriating in the comfort of *not* being *on*, of not being in control. She'd been living her life on high alert since before Alex was killed. In fact she'd been at personal yellow alert for so long that she'd almost forgotten that there was any other way to live. Even after she and Max had fused, she hadn't been able to force herself to step down from the insanely high level of self alertness that she'd been living under. Not until that moment on Tuesday, when they'd finally cemented themselves to each other, beyond all challenge now, had she been able to lower her defenses completely, and trust that the sky wasn't going to fall in the next thirty seconds. It had been a reflexive act then. Now though, it was a conscious choice on her part. Not only to let herself go, to turn her focus inward towards Max, to feel protected only by his arms, but to allow Max to feel it too. To let him *know* that she trusted him to protect her. To defend her against all odds, and all comers.
For the present moment, Max knew contentment. He knew that Liz was making a conscious choice to let down her guard, and burrow deeper into his soul, letting him take momentary responsibility for them both; and he welcomed the feeling. There's an instinct hardwired into some human men that seems to scream 'women and children first'. Regrettably, it's not present in as many men as it should be. But apparently Max's designers hadn't been asleep at the switch, because he had that quality in full measure. The need to have a center to his universe, and to cherish and protect that center, placing it's safety above his own, was paramount in his makeup. For most of his life he'd been very withdrawn and unhappy because there had been a hole in his soul, which only Liz Parker could fill. He'd known it intuitively, from the first time that he'd laid eyes on her. But the gap between what he was, and what *she* was, had seemed insurmountable back then... and it had only seemed to grow wider and deeper with time. So his instinct to protect had instead found expression in protecting his sister and 'brother', and that instinct had been at war with his need to be with Liz, because Isabel and Michael saw her as a threat. Until the shooting. Then the profound shock of that moment had shattered the construction of rationalizations around which he'd built his life up to that point. The only thing that had remained was the need.
Michael and Isabel hadn't understood it back then. At one point Max had thought that they never would, indeed that they never could... but recent events were giving him hope that they had come to understand the need to care for someone else, more than you do for yourself. Something that Max had grasped, from the beginning. So much so that, when faced with the ultimate choice; to do or die, he had been unable to contemplate his continued existence in a world in which Elizabeth Parker was dead. So he'd done the only thing that he could. He'd saved her life, and in so doing he'd saved his own. Even now he still had occasional moments wherein he realized what a 'close run thing' it had been. And then he would vow once more to *never* come that close to losing her again. So he stood with her wrapped in his arms, determined to protect her against anything or anyone that might seek to wrench her away from him. Ever again.
Thus in silence already, there was a dialog between them, poor in words, but rich in feelings. Though they both knew that their time was limited, they pretended that this moment would last forever.
"~Penny?~" Max whispered in her mind.
Liz sighed. "~Nothing, just thinking.~"
"~What?~" came his response.
She chuckled softly. "~Marriage and babies.~"
Max's hand stroked her back. "~Took you long enough.~"
Liz pulled back a little to look at him. "~Most boys in high school would panic at the very thought.~"
Max's eyes twinkled. "~I'm not 'most boys'. I'd welcome children, as long as they have your ears.~" Liz's amusement skittered across the connection as he went on. "~Marriage is a foregone conclusion, I thought that we'd settled that.~"
Liz stared at him a long time, then leaned back into him. "~I love you,~" she sighed.
"~I love you too,~" he answered.
Max had presented the girls with the Chevelle for the night, because there was supposed to be further bad weather. At that moment they heard the engine start. As they both turned towards the sound, the car slammed abruptly into gear and backed up until it blocked the Evans driveway. The drivers' door opened and a pale looking Maria got out, leaving the engine running. "Michael and Kyle," she said hoarsely. "The school. I think that they're in trouble."
"What's wrong?" Max rapped out.
Maria's voice was quavering. "I don't know. Michael was in contact, doing this running commentary, then I felt this moment of surprise, bordering on shock, and then nothing. I can't feel him Max...what if he's..."
Liz cut her off. "Maria, if he were dead, you wouldn't be saying 'what if'. You'd know." She turned to Max and held up a hand that showed a faint glow. "~Go, we'll stay here and guard Isabel.~"
In one stroke she'd cut through Max's divided loyalties. Stay with Isabel. Help Michael and Kyle. Protect Liz and Maria. She'd done it by reminding him that she could take care of herself. Max pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. "~After I leave, you two go in the house and stay there and for God's sake be careful. You haven't had training yet, so we don't know what you can do, and you're certain to have control problems. So don't depend on your powers unless you absolutely have to. You might not even be able to light a candle.... then again, it's possible that you *could* blow out the side of the house.~"
Liz sighed and assented through their connection, even as she made it clear that he was wasting time. "~Just go, Max. I'm not completely stupid. Go!~"
With one more kiss, Max was in the car and gone, quickly, but not as quickly as he could have wished. He had to keep the speed down to avoid attracting attention. Getting pulled over for speeding would be very inconvenient right at that moment.
Liz and Maria clung to each other for a moment as Maria's tears began to flow in earnest. Together they turned and trudged up the driveway to the house. Liz sighed deeply. There was no telling *when* she'd get home now. "My parents are going to kill me," she thought. She'd just have to think of something to tell them and make a phone call. Once Maria was in the house, Liz turned and surveyed the neighborhood for activity before closing the door.
She snorted to herself. The sky hadn't fallen in thirty seconds. Instead it had generously held off for perhaps a whole three minutes out of deference to her and Max's 'moment'. Then it fell.
She snorted again, then closed the door and settled in to comfort Maria and hold down the fort.
Bear Run Asylum................11:00 AM
Getting answers out of Alex had, quite predictably, had a lot in common with pulling teeth. Amanda, who could charm just about anyone out of anything, was having no luck tonight, so she had elected to play bad cop to Cassandra's good cop. Of course, Alex was no idiot either, so it became an extended verbal duel in which no one got exactly what they wanted. Alex didn't preserve his privacy completely, and the women didn't get every niggling detail, but they got enough; and Amanda told Alex sweetly that he could show them his injuries, or they would look at them anyway, after they'd wrestled him down and stripped him of clothing and dignity. The inspection was brief, because it was cut off abruptly by Methos' bellow from downstairs.
"Where the hell are you people?"
"We're upstairs!" Cassandra shouted.
"Yeah," Alex added, "and they're bothering the hell out of me!"
Ordinarily that would have earned him a clout from Amanda, but the circumstances caused her to limit it to diplomatically sticking out her tongue at him.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs indicated that the men were on their way up. The room that Richie and Alex had selected was at the rear of the building, and it was as far from the stairs as you could get, so it would take the returning men some time to trek up there.
Cassandra took advantage of the final few moments that they had alone with Alex to say, "Alex, I'm glad that you're okay, but I want you to remember something." She paused significantly, then went on. "Yes, you've won your first fight, but one victory does not a sword master make. Do you understand me?"
Alex shrugged. He was still angry, but he knew that she was simply trying to keep his head on his shoulders, so he settled for a soft riposte. "I understand, but you all have to understand that, sooner or later... and probably sooner, you'll have to let me see whether or not I can live long enough to become a master."
Cassandra blinked. When had Alex become a fatalist? She gave a wordless sharp nod, indicating that she understood what he was saying, even if she didn't necessarily agree with it. Amanda looked like she was about to add something of her own when the men arrived. Duncan was the first in the door, followed by Methos and then Richie. Before any of the three could say a word, Cassandra's nose twitched as she detected a familiar odor and her eyes narrowed somewhat. A shared glance at Amanda said that she smelled it as well. Cassandra didn't miss the bottle that Methos was carrying either.
Richie walked over to where his gear was dumped and pawed through it looking for his shaving kit. "I want to clean up and shave now, simply because, from here on out, I may be living in the clothes that I happen to be wearing at the moment when it all finally hits the fan. And God only knows when I'll get a chance to clean up again." He gave a grunt of satisfaction as his search produced the wayward shaving gear. Looking at Methos he raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Methos caught the hint. "There's a washroom with a tank of water , downstairs off of the lobby. Sorry, no indoor toilets, and no hot water."
Richie grimaced. "I hate shaving with cold water," he muttered. "What do we do for toilets?"
Methos sighed. "For now, there's an outhouse out the back of the building that I refurbished into something resembling usability. I think that it's safe enough to use for the next day and a half. After that, there are two portable chemical toilets inside, because Britanicus' arrival in the neighborhood will make going outside to relieve yourself... hazardous to your health."
Richie nodded. "Gotcha," he said as he headed towards the door. As he disappeared down the hall, "I'll see you in a bit," came floating back to them.
Once he was out of the room Duncan turned to the women. "Did he bring you in through the cave when he brought you out here? Damn, that is one impressive underground garage." His enthusiasm was met by silence. He recognized trouble, or maybe it was the *same* trouble with a different face. He sighed deeply and said, "What? Was it something I said?"
Amanda took the lead and waved at the whiskey bottle that Methos was clutching as she said, "Just how much of that have you had?"
Duncan shrugged. "Just a sip." He held his hand out to Methos, accepted the bottle and then passed it on to Amanda. "Just enough to know that it's the straight goods. I told Methos that when this is over I will expect some of this for my liquor cabinet at the loft."
Amanda snorted and looked at the label, then saw the bottling date, and being Amanda the significance of it wasn't lost on her. She blinked, added two and two and then looked up as she absently sat the bottle down on a crate next to Alex's sleeping bag, while studying Methos. "Bootleg booze? This was a rumrunner's hideout? How much of this stuff is there?"
Methos shrugged. "Cases of it."
Standing there forgotten, Alex picked up the bottle and studied it curiously. He worried the cork out and sniffed at the neck cautiously. A rich and vaguely sweetish odor tickled his nose.
Cassandra stood there with her hands on her hips. "And you didn't point this out when we arrived...why?"
Methos shrugged. "It slipped my mind?"
Seeing that the others were distracted and never having tried 'the hard stuff' in his young life, Alex took a cautious tiny sip from the bottle and then shoved the cork back in the neck. His face wrinkled at the taste and he fought the reflex to cough as he swirled it briefly in his mouth and then swallowed. It burned its way down his throat. "Ugh!" he thought, as he looked around for his canteen. He'd tried beer and wine before, though he hadn't had any in a long while, and this was nothing like them. "That tastes like....."
Cassandra's eyes were snapping. "Don't give me that old man! You haven't forgotten anything since Pliny the Younger was in short pants. No, if you think...."
*THUD*
They all turned at the sound of a muffled thump to find Alex crumpled on the floor, still clutching the whiskey bottle. Momentarily alarmed, Amanda squatted down next to him and felt for the pulse in his throat. It was there, slow and even. "He's asleep. Out cold," she said wonderingly. She picked the bottle and looked at it again, then she addressed Methos. "Just what the hell did you spike this with anyway, chloral hydrate?"
Methos held his hands up in a gesture of negation. "Whoa girl! That whiskey does *not* contain a mickey, I can promise you that. Otherwise Richie, Duncan, and I would all be in a heap down on the cellar floor, snoring our cares away." Amanda looked like she thought that might be a good place for all three of them. He held out his hand. "Let me see the bottle." Amanda handed it to him, and after fiddling with the cork, hefting the bottle, and holding it up to the gas lantern that was providing the light in the room, he shook his head. "It's definitely been opened. He didn't drive the cork back in completely. See?" To demonstrate he gave the cork a solid smack, driving it home. "But, if he drank anything, it wasn't much more than a sip. We were so busy listening to you ladies ranting that he could have easily done that without our noticing. But, even if it were spiked, that's not enough to put a boy of his size on the floor at all, let alone to do so this quickly."
Cassandra growled at him and got down on her knees next to her charge and, placing a hand on either side of his body; she leaned in and sniffed his breath. Sitting up she nodded. "He drank some all right." She frowned. "I've heard of having a low tolerance for alcohol, but this has to be some sort of record."
Amanda squatted down again and lifted an eye lid. Alex never stirred "He's not just asleep, he's unconscious."
Cassandra frowned. "Not entirely, look at his pupils move. He's in REM state already. Dreaming."
Amanda sighed. "Could he be allergic?"
Cassandra shrugged. "It isn't unheard of. I think that we should....."
She was cut off by Duncan. "Will you two frustrated mother hen wannabes knock it off please? It doesn't matter what he is, or isn't. He can't die, remember?" Both women glared, but before they could go ballistic he tried to mollify them somewhat. "He simply has an unusually low tolerance for liquor. Something that I'm sure will embarrass the hell out of him tomorrow when he wakes up." Duncan paused as he walked over to the air mattress that Alex had already inflated. Grabbing Alex's sleeping bag he pulled it out of its sleeve and unrolled it with a single practiced throw and then he unzipped it. "His being exhausted and recovering from wounds probably didn't help either. Let's get him over here, get him undressed, and then into the sleeping bag to sleep it off. You two can finish your interrogations tonight with me." He sighed. "It's better that he found out about this now anyway, rather than later... in a public place... or at a time when it could get him killed." He smirked a little. "At least, with the tiny amount that he actually drank, he won't have a hangover tomorrow."
Working together they peeled Alex out of his clothes and zipped him into his sleeping bag. They left the gas lantern on for Richie as they headed back downstairs, since from all indications Alex wouldn't be caring about light or darkness for a quite a while at the very least. As their voices faded down the hall the women recalled their original anger and began to rant again, with the men parrying in a playful fashion. Anything to blow off steam.
Behind them Alex's pupils continued their REM dance beneath his eye lids. He was deep in the realm of dreams.
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17c
(The Long Way Home)
The Evans Household.....Approximately the same time
Max stood in the driveway with his arms around his better half. They weren't kissing, or even feeling terribly passionate. They were simply, as Liz put it, enjoying some physical contact while they could get it. Some low key quality time. The group had broken up and gone their separate ways. Jim and Amy had gone home. Brody had stayed at the UFO Center to clean up his office and do some more research. He was now certain that they'd been under observation ever since Alex's 'death'.
The kids had taken it upon themselves to get Isabel home. It turned out that they all had a role to play in that project. Isabel was half asleep in the back of the Chevelle, propped up between Liz and Maria, before they'd even gotten home. Michael and Max had managed to carry her into the house and up to her bedroom while Kyle stood sentry outside, after which the girls had shooed the boys out of her bedroom before they'd undressed their semi-conscious friend, then gotten her into pajamas, and into bed. She'd been restive and whiny at first, until they'd given her the annual; the yearbook with Alex's picture. She was now sound sleep, clutching it like a child would clutch a favorite teddy bear. Liz and Maria had both made sure that she was tucked firmly in before retreating downstairs to join the men.
After some discussion, Michael and Kyle had headed for school about forty-five minutes earlier, intending to waste no time 'improving' the quake damage enough to keep them out of class for the rest of the week. Their plan was to park at the Valenti's and walk to the school, three blocks away, via alleys and backyards, staying out of sight. That left Max, Liz, and Maria to their own devices. It had been decided that the girls would take advantage of the screwed up day to spend the night together at Liz's. Liz's parents were understanding, once they'd cleared it with Amy, who was of course completely in the know.... and as usual she was feeling guilty about hiding things from the other parents involved. But not so guilty that she wouldn't take advantage of her daughter's and Kyle's absence from their respective beds to spend some one on one time with everyone's favorite sheriff. According to Maria her mother had been muttering something about 'bimbos who should know better', and 'it runs in the family'. What *that* indicated no one knew, but Amy seemed to be getting more and more territorial where James Valenti was concerned. A turn of events that didn't seem to bother Roswell's sheriff in the slightest.
Now it was just a matter of calling it a night. Max planned to stay up and wait for Kyle and Michael. Since Kyle was spending the night, Michael had decided to take up Max's standing offer and crash at the Evans house as well. All of this was based on some deep seated instinct for the 'buddy system' until things sorted themselves out. Months before, Alex's death had amputated a part of who they were as a group, leaving them feeling vulnerable. They were aware of it too, both collectively and as individuals. Yet, over the months, they'd grown accustomed to the hurt and loss, ignoring it as a part of the background noise of daily existence. Now though, tonight, they had the prospect of getting their friend back. Of, recovering the severed part of their identity, and making the group whole again. And that hope was making them ever more aware of that feeling of vulnerability. If they could have thought of an excuse to let Liz and Maria stay, they would have used it, rather than have the group fragmented tonight.
Though none of them were talking about it out loud, they were all terrified of failure. That something would snatch Alex away again before they could act.
Hence Liz was hesitant to leave, and Max didn't want to be separated from her, not even by a finger's width. Maria waited patiently, or as patiently as she could, in the car out at the curb as the couple clung to each other, enveloped in silence. Silence that is, to most people. Not to the hearing of soul mates.
Liz pressed herself close to her love, rubbing her cheek gently on his chest as she inhaled deeply, memorizing his scent again. She was doing something that she seldom did anymore. Luxuriating in the comfort of *not* being *on*, of not being in control. She'd been living her life on high alert since before Alex was killed. In fact she'd been at personal yellow alert for so long that she'd almost forgotten that there was any other way to live. Even after she and Max had fused, she hadn't been able to force herself to step down from the insanely high level of self alertness that she'd been living under. Not until that moment on Tuesday, when they'd finally cemented themselves to each other, beyond all challenge now, had she been able to lower her defenses completely, and trust that the sky wasn't going to fall in the next thirty seconds. It had been a reflexive act then. Now though, it was a conscious choice on her part. Not only to let herself go, to turn her focus inward towards Max, to feel protected only by his arms, but to allow Max to feel it too. To let him *know* that she trusted him to protect her. To defend her against all odds, and all comers.
For the present moment, Max knew contentment. He knew that Liz was making a conscious choice to let down her guard, and burrow deeper into his soul, letting him take momentary responsibility for them both; and he welcomed the feeling. There's an instinct hardwired into some human men that seems to scream 'women and children first'. Regrettably, it's not present in as many men as it should be. But apparently Max's designers hadn't been asleep at the switch, because he had that quality in full measure. The need to have a center to his universe, and to cherish and protect that center, placing it's safety above his own, was paramount in his makeup. For most of his life he'd been very withdrawn and unhappy because there had been a hole in his soul, which only Liz Parker could fill. He'd known it intuitively, from the first time that he'd laid eyes on her. But the gap between what he was, and what *she* was, had seemed insurmountable back then... and it had only seemed to grow wider and deeper with time. So his instinct to protect had instead found expression in protecting his sister and 'brother', and that instinct had been at war with his need to be with Liz, because Isabel and Michael saw her as a threat. Until the shooting. Then the profound shock of that moment had shattered the construction of rationalizations around which he'd built his life up to that point. The only thing that had remained was the need.
Michael and Isabel hadn't understood it back then. At one point Max had thought that they never would, indeed that they never could... but recent events were giving him hope that they had come to understand the need to care for someone else, more than you do for yourself. Something that Max had grasped, from the beginning. So much so that, when faced with the ultimate choice; to do or die, he had been unable to contemplate his continued existence in a world in which Elizabeth Parker was dead. So he'd done the only thing that he could. He'd saved her life, and in so doing he'd saved his own. Even now he still had occasional moments wherein he realized what a 'close run thing' it had been. And then he would vow once more to *never* come that close to losing her again. So he stood with her wrapped in his arms, determined to protect her against anything or anyone that might seek to wrench her away from him. Ever again.
Thus in silence already, there was a dialog between them, poor in words, but rich in feelings. Though they both knew that their time was limited, they pretended that this moment would last forever.
"~Penny?~" Max whispered in her mind.
Liz sighed. "~Nothing, just thinking.~"
"~What?~" came his response.
She chuckled softly. "~Marriage and babies.~"
Max's hand stroked her back. "~Took you long enough.~"
Liz pulled back a little to look at him. "~Most boys in high school would panic at the very thought.~"
Max's eyes twinkled. "~I'm not 'most boys'. I'd welcome children, as long as they have your ears.~" Liz's amusement skittered across the connection as he went on. "~Marriage is a foregone conclusion, I thought that we'd settled that.~"
Liz stared at him a long time, then leaned back into him. "~I love you,~" she sighed.
"~I love you too,~" he answered.
Max had presented the girls with the Chevelle for the night, because there was supposed to be further bad weather. At that moment they heard the engine start. As they both turned towards the sound, the car slammed abruptly into gear and backed up until it blocked the Evans driveway. The drivers' door opened and a pale looking Maria got out, leaving the engine running. "Michael and Kyle," she said hoarsely. "The school. I think that they're in trouble."
"What's wrong?" Max rapped out.
Maria's voice was quavering. "I don't know. Michael was in contact, doing this running commentary, then I felt this moment of surprise, bordering on shock, and then nothing. I can't feel him Max...what if he's..."
Liz cut her off. "Maria, if he were dead, you wouldn't be saying 'what if'. You'd know." She turned to Max and held up a hand that showed a faint glow. "~Go, we'll stay here and guard Isabel.~"
In one stroke she'd cut through Max's divided loyalties. Stay with Isabel. Help Michael and Kyle. Protect Liz and Maria. She'd done it by reminding him that she could take care of herself. Max pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. "~After I leave, you two go in the house and stay there and for God's sake be careful. You haven't had training yet, so we don't know what you can do, and you're certain to have control problems. So don't depend on your powers unless you absolutely have to. You might not even be able to light a candle.... then again, it's possible that you *could* blow out the side of the house.~"
Liz sighed and assented through their connection, even as she made it clear that he was wasting time. "~Just go, Max. I'm not completely stupid. Go!~"
With one more kiss, Max was in the car and gone, quickly, but not as quickly as he could have wished. He had to keep the speed down to avoid attracting attention. Getting pulled over for speeding would be very inconvenient right at that moment.
Liz and Maria clung to each other for a moment as Maria's tears began to flow in earnest. Together they turned and trudged up the driveway to the house. Liz sighed deeply. There was no telling *when* she'd get home now. "My parents are going to kill me," she thought. She'd just have to think of something to tell them and make a phone call. Once Maria was in the house, Liz turned and surveyed the neighborhood for activity before closing the door.
She snorted to herself. The sky hadn't fallen in thirty seconds. Instead it had generously held off for perhaps a whole three minutes out of deference to her and Max's 'moment'. Then it fell.
She snorted again, then closed the door and settled in to comfort Maria and hold down the fort.
Bear Run Asylum................11:00 AM
Getting answers out of Alex had, quite predictably, had a lot in common with pulling teeth. Amanda, who could charm just about anyone out of anything, was having no luck tonight, so she had elected to play bad cop to Cassandra's good cop. Of course, Alex was no idiot either, so it became an extended verbal duel in which no one got exactly what they wanted. Alex didn't preserve his privacy completely, and the women didn't get every niggling detail, but they got enough; and Amanda told Alex sweetly that he could show them his injuries, or they would look at them anyway, after they'd wrestled him down and stripped him of clothing and dignity. The inspection was brief, because it was cut off abruptly by Methos' bellow from downstairs.
"Where the hell are you people?"
"We're upstairs!" Cassandra shouted.
"Yeah," Alex added, "and they're bothering the hell out of me!"
Ordinarily that would have earned him a clout from Amanda, but the circumstances caused her to limit it to diplomatically sticking out her tongue at him.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs indicated that the men were on their way up. The room that Richie and Alex had selected was at the rear of the building, and it was as far from the stairs as you could get, so it would take the returning men some time to trek up there.
Cassandra took advantage of the final few moments that they had alone with Alex to say, "Alex, I'm glad that you're okay, but I want you to remember something." She paused significantly, then went on. "Yes, you've won your first fight, but one victory does not a sword master make. Do you understand me?"
Alex shrugged. He was still angry, but he knew that she was simply trying to keep his head on his shoulders, so he settled for a soft riposte. "I understand, but you all have to understand that, sooner or later... and probably sooner, you'll have to let me see whether or not I can live long enough to become a master."
Cassandra blinked. When had Alex become a fatalist? She gave a wordless sharp nod, indicating that she understood what he was saying, even if she didn't necessarily agree with it. Amanda looked like she was about to add something of her own when the men arrived. Duncan was the first in the door, followed by Methos and then Richie. Before any of the three could say a word, Cassandra's nose twitched as she detected a familiar odor and her eyes narrowed somewhat. A shared glance at Amanda said that she smelled it as well. Cassandra didn't miss the bottle that Methos was carrying either.
Richie walked over to where his gear was dumped and pawed through it looking for his shaving kit. "I want to clean up and shave now, simply because, from here on out, I may be living in the clothes that I happen to be wearing at the moment when it all finally hits the fan. And God only knows when I'll get a chance to clean up again." He gave a grunt of satisfaction as his search produced the wayward shaving gear. Looking at Methos he raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Methos caught the hint. "There's a washroom with a tank of water , downstairs off of the lobby. Sorry, no indoor toilets, and no hot water."
Richie grimaced. "I hate shaving with cold water," he muttered. "What do we do for toilets?"
Methos sighed. "For now, there's an outhouse out the back of the building that I refurbished into something resembling usability. I think that it's safe enough to use for the next day and a half. After that, there are two portable chemical toilets inside, because Britanicus' arrival in the neighborhood will make going outside to relieve yourself... hazardous to your health."
Richie nodded. "Gotcha," he said as he headed towards the door. As he disappeared down the hall, "I'll see you in a bit," came floating back to them.
Once he was out of the room Duncan turned to the women. "Did he bring you in through the cave when he brought you out here? Damn, that is one impressive underground garage." His enthusiasm was met by silence. He recognized trouble, or maybe it was the *same* trouble with a different face. He sighed deeply and said, "What? Was it something I said?"
Amanda took the lead and waved at the whiskey bottle that Methos was clutching as she said, "Just how much of that have you had?"
Duncan shrugged. "Just a sip." He held his hand out to Methos, accepted the bottle and then passed it on to Amanda. "Just enough to know that it's the straight goods. I told Methos that when this is over I will expect some of this for my liquor cabinet at the loft."
Amanda snorted and looked at the label, then saw the bottling date, and being Amanda the significance of it wasn't lost on her. She blinked, added two and two and then looked up as she absently sat the bottle down on a crate next to Alex's sleeping bag, while studying Methos. "Bootleg booze? This was a rumrunner's hideout? How much of this stuff is there?"
Methos shrugged. "Cases of it."
Standing there forgotten, Alex picked up the bottle and studied it curiously. He worried the cork out and sniffed at the neck cautiously. A rich and vaguely sweetish odor tickled his nose.
Cassandra stood there with her hands on her hips. "And you didn't point this out when we arrived...why?"
Methos shrugged. "It slipped my mind?"
Seeing that the others were distracted and never having tried 'the hard stuff' in his young life, Alex took a cautious tiny sip from the bottle and then shoved the cork back in the neck. His face wrinkled at the taste and he fought the reflex to cough as he swirled it briefly in his mouth and then swallowed. It burned its way down his throat. "Ugh!" he thought, as he looked around for his canteen. He'd tried beer and wine before, though he hadn't had any in a long while, and this was nothing like them. "That tastes like....."
Cassandra's eyes were snapping. "Don't give me that old man! You haven't forgotten anything since Pliny the Younger was in short pants. No, if you think...."
*THUD*
They all turned at the sound of a muffled thump to find Alex crumpled on the floor, still clutching the whiskey bottle. Momentarily alarmed, Amanda squatted down next to him and felt for the pulse in his throat. It was there, slow and even. "He's asleep. Out cold," she said wonderingly. She picked the bottle and looked at it again, then she addressed Methos. "Just what the hell did you spike this with anyway, chloral hydrate?"
Methos held his hands up in a gesture of negation. "Whoa girl! That whiskey does *not* contain a mickey, I can promise you that. Otherwise Richie, Duncan, and I would all be in a heap down on the cellar floor, snoring our cares away." Amanda looked like she thought that might be a good place for all three of them. He held out his hand. "Let me see the bottle." Amanda handed it to him, and after fiddling with the cork, hefting the bottle, and holding it up to the gas lantern that was providing the light in the room, he shook his head. "It's definitely been opened. He didn't drive the cork back in completely. See?" To demonstrate he gave the cork a solid smack, driving it home. "But, if he drank anything, it wasn't much more than a sip. We were so busy listening to you ladies ranting that he could have easily done that without our noticing. But, even if it were spiked, that's not enough to put a boy of his size on the floor at all, let alone to do so this quickly."
Cassandra growled at him and got down on her knees next to her charge and, placing a hand on either side of his body; she leaned in and sniffed his breath. Sitting up she nodded. "He drank some all right." She frowned. "I've heard of having a low tolerance for alcohol, but this has to be some sort of record."
Amanda squatted down again and lifted an eye lid. Alex never stirred "He's not just asleep, he's unconscious."
Cassandra frowned. "Not entirely, look at his pupils move. He's in REM state already. Dreaming."
Amanda sighed. "Could he be allergic?"
Cassandra shrugged. "It isn't unheard of. I think that we should....."
She was cut off by Duncan. "Will you two frustrated mother hen wannabes knock it off please? It doesn't matter what he is, or isn't. He can't die, remember?" Both women glared, but before they could go ballistic he tried to mollify them somewhat. "He simply has an unusually low tolerance for liquor. Something that I'm sure will embarrass the hell out of him tomorrow when he wakes up." Duncan paused as he walked over to the air mattress that Alex had already inflated. Grabbing Alex's sleeping bag he pulled it out of its sleeve and unrolled it with a single practiced throw and then he unzipped it. "His being exhausted and recovering from wounds probably didn't help either. Let's get him over here, get him undressed, and then into the sleeping bag to sleep it off. You two can finish your interrogations tonight with me." He sighed. "It's better that he found out about this now anyway, rather than later... in a public place... or at a time when it could get him killed." He smirked a little. "At least, with the tiny amount that he actually drank, he won't have a hangover tomorrow."
Working together they peeled Alex out of his clothes and zipped him into his sleeping bag. They left the gas lantern on for Richie as they headed back downstairs, since from all indications Alex wouldn't be caring about light or darkness for a quite a while at the very least. As their voices faded down the hall the women recalled their original anger and began to rant again, with the men parrying in a playful fashion. Anything to blow off steam.
Behind them Alex's pupils continued their REM dance beneath his eye lids. He was deep in the realm of dreams.
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Wed Apr 20, 2005 2:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17d
(The Long Way Home)
Roswell, New Mexico.....same time
Max pulled over to the curb about a block from the high school, between the school and the Valenti house. Thinking rightly that if Michael and Kyle were in trouble, but were free to move, they'd head for the nearest safe haven. That would be Kyle's house. But before he could even get out of the car, the sound of swelling sirens caused him to freeze in place. The rising glare of headlights forced him to flop down across the car seats, out of sight. After the howling sirens, roaring engines, and flashing lights passed him he levered himself back up to look at the retreating emergency vehicles. "Fire trucks?" the thought came unbidden as he sniffed the air. Sure enough there was the distinct smell of smoke. "What the hell did they do? They were just supposed to worsen the damage a little, not try to burn the school down!" He was about to get out of the car when a hunched figure emerged from between two houses about half a block closer to the school and began to head down the street towards him. Whoever it was, was staying to the lawns and away from the lighted sidewalk, but as the figure passed one area where the light was bright enough to see by, the familiarity had Max out of the car like a shot.
It was Kyle Valenti staggering along with an unconscious Michael Guerin in a fireman's carry.
Max dashed up to the pair as an exhausted Valenti finally ran out of gas and sagged to the ground. Before Max could say anything, a panting Kyle managed to gasp out, "There's never a... dull moment... with the... alien posse... is there... El Presidente?"
Max extended a hand to Kyle, who took it, and Max hauled the exhausted young man to his feet. "What the hell happened?" Max demanded. "You were just supposed to vandalize it a bit."
Having recovered some of his wind, Kyle started to chuckle, but then winced and held his ribs. "I'd rather not discuss this out here in public, Max. Let's just say, mission accomplished and then some, and then lets get the hell out of here." He looked down at an unconscious Michael. "Maria must be going ape shit by now." Kyle sighed silently to himself as he contemplated the further fallout from tonight. Who was going to talk to Bob Troy? And just what the hell could they say to him? "Sorry, but your family is short one alien assassin?"
Max might have been exasperated, but he wasn't stupid. "Two of us can get him to the car quicker," he said. "Have you got enough left in you to try?"
By way of an answer, Kyle bent over and with a groan he hauled an unconscious Michael upright, and draped one of his friend's arms over his shoulder. The he looked at Max and said, "Well?"
Max didn't need a blueprint. Putting his shoulder under Michael's other arm they hustled their comatose friend to the Chevelle and got him into the back seat. Kyle took shotgun as Max started the engine and slowly pulled out into the street. There was no traffic, but Max kept his speed down anyway. The last thing that he wanted was a traffic citation in the vicinity of anything 'unexplained' in their town. The route back to the house required that they go the block to the school and loop around it driving back on the other side. As they approached the school Max saw local residents out gawking at the building as smoke poured out of several doors. He noticed that Kyle was staring at the high school with a very... sphinx-like... look on his face. He seemed to be more at peace with himself, Buddhist philosophy notwithstanding, than Max had seen him in a long time. The fire department had run hoses in through the school doors, to fight whatever fire there was.
Max was aching to ask, but he let Kyle have his space until they were around the school and headed back home. Then he could contain himself no longer. "What happened? And what's wrong with Michael?"
Kyle snorted, still looking expressionless. "He'll be okay I think, for the moment. He was conscious and able to walk for a little while. Long enough for us to get out of the school, then he folded. Basically I think that he drained himself, and he took a harder hit to begin with, because he was between me and the worst of it. There's some serious bruising showing."
Max made an exasperated noise. "Bruising I can fix once we get back to the house. How did it happen?"
Kyle grimaced slightly. "Not like this Max. There's blood showing in the whites of his eyes." Kyle sighed softly. "We were followed. By the time we realized it, she had us."
Max frowned. He was losing patience. "Who?" he asked, even though he feared that he knew the answer already.
Kyle looked over at him. His face was no longer expressionless. In fact you could say that it was down right scary. His look was one of savage satisfaction. "The murdering Skin bitch, whose 'dandruff' is currently
floating around the West Roswell boiler room."
Max had initially held off contacting Liz, beyond telling her that he had their friends and was on his way back. Now though his startled mind reached out to her. There was a very fast information exchange.
"~Isabel is going to be upset that she missed this,~" Liz said. "~And I shudder to think what our adult 'sponsors' will have to say.~"
Max shrugged internally. "~I don't have the full story yet, but there's not much that we can do about that.~"
There was a groan from the back seat accompanied by a muttered 'Yeah, yeah Blondie, I hear ya.'
Max chuckled. "~It sounds like Michael's awake....and grumpy.~"
Liz's amusement rolled in over the connection. "~Yup, I'd say so. Maria just started bouncing around the room like a lunatic, and she's grinning and blubbering at the same time.~" Liz gave a mental sigh. "~I'd better log off and deal with her.~"
Max grinned. "~We're almost home. See you in a few minutes. I love you.~"
"~I love you too!~" responded Liz, then the connection dialed down.
As Max made the turn onto his street he made a silent vow. After he and Liz were married, no more than one crisis a month and after their first baby, no more than one a year.
Of course, the road to hell is said to be paved with good intentions.
The Bedroom of Isabel Evans....Same time
Isabel sighed and then stirred in her sleep and murmured a name before settling back with a contented smile. She murmured again. "Surprise." The she frowned. "A leprechaun?" After that her face smoothed over. Behind her eye lids her pupils were in motion. She was in REM state, or at least she was in *someone's* REM state.
Downstairs at the Evans Residence......Same Time
Liz held the door open as a disoriented and groaning Michael was carried in, supported between Kyle and Max, to be delivered to the couch and the attentions of his soul mate. After Max and Kyle had deposited Michael
with Maria, Liz yanked Kyle into a hug, while Max worked on healing Michael. "Don't you two *ever* scare us like that again! What happened? Michael wasn't too coherent with Maria. All I got was that it was a Skin."
Kyle sighed. "Yeah, she followed us. Apparently it was the assassin that Nicholas left behind, she was down to the wire on her husk and couldn't afford to wait anymore. So she came after us without orders."
Max looked up from his work to say, "Liz, I could use a hand here. He has some deep injuries; a lot of them. Nothing *immediately* life threatening, but they will be if we don't get on top of them."
Liz moved over to where Michael lay on the couch with his head resting in Maria's lap as she stroked his hair gently. He was only semi-conscious. Awake enough for Max to connect somewhat, but not enough for coherent speech. Max was kneeling next to Michael, his glowing hand on Michael's chest. "Fusion?" she asked.
Max had half a connection with Michael already; enough to know that this called for the heavy artillery. "I'd say so. There's no one thing wrong with him that I can't fix... given time. It's just that he's so messed up inside that before I can fix *everything*, some part of it will cripple him permanently, or kill him. His blood vessels are leaking like a sieve, his spleen has partially ruptured, and he's starting to get something that looks like 'the bends', if I understand what the bends are correctly. This needs Hector."
Wordlessly Liz slid down next to Max and laid a delicate hand on Michael's chest next to Max's and turned her head to lay her forehead against Max's temple, as she reached for Max through the connection......
**FUSION**
As usual Hector awoke to an emergency. The michael was desperately injured. The spleen was the immediate issue. It was the work of moments to reassemble it. From there It turned Its attention outward, supporting the failing circulatory system as It ran repairs that had to go to the cellular level. It was almost as if the michael had taken a dose of hard radiation, but one that selectively targeted the blood vessels. As It worked, part of Its attention was on the gas bubbles in the blood stream itself. The max had believed it to be 'the bends', as humans called it. That was only partially correct, in that it wasn't nitrogen bubbling out of suspension, but a combination of hydrogen and oxygen. Something had caused some of the free water in the michael's body to break down at the molecular level and to partially electrolyze. As a result, the michael was not only in danger of embolism, he was dehydrated as well. It took Hector several minutes to run down those rogue gas bubbles, and reassemble most of the shattered molecules into their benign liquid state. After running one more sweep to assure Itself of Its handiwork and forcing the michael into sleep, It withdrew into dormancy again with the grumpy observation that Its constituents and their friends were certainly accident prone...
**FISSION**
Kyle had stood by fidgeting as he watched Max and Liz's eyes go black on black. It didn't creep him out the way that he'd imagined it would when he'd first heard about it; it was just another aspect of his life now. These were his friends. Without them, he'd have been dead long ago; dead twice over now. So he stood silently, next to the couch and watched Max and Liz work on Michael, as he kept a comforting hand on Maria's shoulder.
Maria was entirely focused on Michael, unable to take her eyes off of him. She'd been striving to fuse with him, to ascertain his condition, but he'd blocked her. Her awareness of him still hadn't developed enough for her to *know* his condition. So, aside from some incoherent telepathic ramblings and a general feeling of terrible pain, through their connection, she didn't know what was going on with him. Not first hand. And Max's words had frightened her deeply. She'd just found her connection with Michael. She couldn't lose it now! So, as her hands stroked his hair gently, inside she was building up a head of steam. Spaceboy wasn't going to get away with this. They were supposed to share! If he'd blocked her simply to spare her his pain, then he was going to get the mother of all rants. And he'd learn to be more careful, if it was the last thing that she did! Her hands stroked his hair gently as first one tear...then another, dropped onto his upturned face.
After several minutes there was a sigh from Liz, and she and Max stirred. Max turned his head to deliver the gentlest of kisses. "Thanks."
Liz smiled. "What for? For being your other half? Too late, I think that that was set in cement before we were born." She looked up at Maria and said, "He'll be okay now, but he needed time to recover, so Hector put him to sleep and I doubt that he'll wake up again tonight."
Maria nearly collapsed with relief. "Thank you Max, thank you Lizzie." She eased her lap from under Michael's head and slipped a pillow underneath in its place. Then she stood up and threw her arms around Kyle. "And thank you for getting him out of there. I couldn't get much from him, but what I did get made it clear that you saved the day. Thank you!"
There was nothing for Kyle to do, but hug her back, though he was clearly uncomfortable as he patted her back. "The way things are going you may end up my step-sister, that makes sleeping beauty over there my brother-in-law-to-be. I couldn't leave him there... not after he saved my ass by being in the way when everything went to hell."
Max stood and walked over to Kyle. "I remember seeing you wince back there when I found you. Something about your ribs I think? Lets see them."
Kyle shook his head. "I'm fine. I hurt, but I've played an entire quarter with worse."
Maria disengaged and stepped away. "Kyle Valenti, as your 'almost sister' I'm ordering you to take that shirt off, now."
Kyle snorted and gestured at Michael. "You might scare him Maria, but you don't scare me."
This was Kyle's big mistake, and Michael's blessing, because Kyle had just caused Maria's head of steam to shift focus. "Kyle," she said sweetly, "I've had just about enough of men pretending that they're made out of twisted steel or something. Now, you have two options," she turned, grabbed her purse, and pulled out her cell phone, holding it up for him to see, "you have to the count of ten to peel out of that shirt so that we can see what happened to you... OR... I can call my mother. And I guarantee you that, wherever she is, your father is. Now, what's it going to be?"
Kyle swallowed. "You wouldn't."
Maria smirked, her finger poised over the phone's key pad. "Do the words 'speed dial' mean anything to you?"
Kyle deflated and defiantly peeled his shirt off over his head. "There! Happy now?"
Liz gasped at the sight of the enormous bruise covering his right side. It was easily the size of a dinner platter, and it ran from the middle of his ribcage to his waist. "Kyle, that's nothing to joke about! How can you move with that?"
Kyle looked down and said, "I didn't know that it was that big. It really doesn't hurt all that much." He worked his arm and shoulder, trying to stretch that side. He winced sharply and stopped. "Okay, so maybe it's a little worse than I thought."
Max stepped up and ran his hand up and down Kyle's side, and frowned. "This is more than just a bruise," he said. Then he turned to his soul mate, "Liz, come over here please? We need Hector again for a minute."
Liz didn't pause to ask, in fact the fusion was already there before she finished stepping forward.
**FUSION**
It was awake yet again. This was getting to be a habit. It was the kyle this time. This irritated Hector somewhat, because the kyle had already been the recipient of some of It's best work to date. It forced the connection and looked the patient over. The damage had a lot in common with the michael's, but the kyle hadn't received as strong a general dose of whatever had hit the michael. Still, what looked like a bruise was actually a break down of the blood vessels resulting in a hemorrhage beneath the skin. It looked like a bruise, but there was no physical trauma associated with it. The bad part was that it was growing minute by minute, both outward and inward. Very soon major organs would be compromised. This needed to be corrected immediately. It reached into the damaged flesh at the molecular level and It began knitting the tissues back together as It traced the trail of shattered and disrupted tissues deep into the boy's body. Had It's constituents not forced the kyle to accept treatment he likely would have died in his sleep during the night, unaware of the extent of his injuries. It completed repairs with the advice that the max and the liz discover exactly what the nature of the weapon was, because a really serious hit might be beyond even It's abilities to repair. Then it returned to dormancy...
**FISSION**
This time Liz swayed slightly and sat down hard in a nearby chair. What was it with Kyle and close calls with hidden death? In a rusty sounding voice she said, "Maria, can I have something to drink?"
Maria looked at Max who said, "There's bottled water, Dr. Pepper, and Cherry Coke in the fridge out in the kitchen.
Maria took their orders and disappeared to fill them.
Kyle looked back and forth between Liz and Max. He didn't like the look that they were both wearing. "It was a bruise... right? Just a really big nasty bruise?"
Max shook his head slowly. "It was a slower moving version of what was wrong with Michael. And it would have killed you the same way that his would have killed him... if we hadn't healed it in time. Yours simply would have taken longer."
From her perch on the edge of the chair's seat Liz said, "Hector says that we need to know what sort of weapon did this, because a really serious hit might be beyond it's ability to fix. Kyle, I think that you'd better tell us exactly what happened at the school. What did that Skin do?"
As they watched, various emotions warred on Kyle's face. Anger squared off against sadness, yet that look of savage contentment won out in the end. "Michael didn't tell me his plan until we got to the school. He planned to use his powers to weaken the main water line in the basement. Not enough to break it right away though. It would hold together long enough for us to get away. He was also going to crack a weld on the boiler's water tank. All that could be explained as quake damage. We got in okay, and everything was going according to plan. There was no one around, so I guess that we got careless. We'd just entered the boiler room when *she* showed up."
Max frowned. "She who? Do we know her?"
Kyle nodded, "Yeah, you do. It was Sarah Troy."
Liz blinked. From behind her there was a startled intake of breath. They turned to see Maria standing frozen with their drinks. She unfroze and moved to an end table and set down the tray that she was carrying. "Did I hear right, Kyle?" she asked. "Sarah Troy? As in Mrs. Troy? Mrs. Robert Troy is a Skin?"
Kyle shook his head. "No, she *was* a Skin, now she's dust."
Max cleared his throat. This was the last, the very last, thing that he would have expected. "We'll have to investigate Mr. Troy and Pam now."
Kyle shook his head grimly. "Nope, I don't think so. Like Nicholas, once she thought that she had the upper hand, she was the talkative type. And from what she said........"
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17d
(The Long Way Home)
Roswell, New Mexico.....same time
Max pulled over to the curb about a block from the high school, between the school and the Valenti house. Thinking rightly that if Michael and Kyle were in trouble, but were free to move, they'd head for the nearest safe haven. That would be Kyle's house. But before he could even get out of the car, the sound of swelling sirens caused him to freeze in place. The rising glare of headlights forced him to flop down across the car seats, out of sight. After the howling sirens, roaring engines, and flashing lights passed him he levered himself back up to look at the retreating emergency vehicles. "Fire trucks?" the thought came unbidden as he sniffed the air. Sure enough there was the distinct smell of smoke. "What the hell did they do? They were just supposed to worsen the damage a little, not try to burn the school down!" He was about to get out of the car when a hunched figure emerged from between two houses about half a block closer to the school and began to head down the street towards him. Whoever it was, was staying to the lawns and away from the lighted sidewalk, but as the figure passed one area where the light was bright enough to see by, the familiarity had Max out of the car like a shot.
It was Kyle Valenti staggering along with an unconscious Michael Guerin in a fireman's carry.
Max dashed up to the pair as an exhausted Valenti finally ran out of gas and sagged to the ground. Before Max could say anything, a panting Kyle managed to gasp out, "There's never a... dull moment... with the... alien posse... is there... El Presidente?"
Max extended a hand to Kyle, who took it, and Max hauled the exhausted young man to his feet. "What the hell happened?" Max demanded. "You were just supposed to vandalize it a bit."
Having recovered some of his wind, Kyle started to chuckle, but then winced and held his ribs. "I'd rather not discuss this out here in public, Max. Let's just say, mission accomplished and then some, and then lets get the hell out of here." He looked down at an unconscious Michael. "Maria must be going ape shit by now." Kyle sighed silently to himself as he contemplated the further fallout from tonight. Who was going to talk to Bob Troy? And just what the hell could they say to him? "Sorry, but your family is short one alien assassin?"
Max might have been exasperated, but he wasn't stupid. "Two of us can get him to the car quicker," he said. "Have you got enough left in you to try?"
By way of an answer, Kyle bent over and with a groan he hauled an unconscious Michael upright, and draped one of his friend's arms over his shoulder. The he looked at Max and said, "Well?"
Max didn't need a blueprint. Putting his shoulder under Michael's other arm they hustled their comatose friend to the Chevelle and got him into the back seat. Kyle took shotgun as Max started the engine and slowly pulled out into the street. There was no traffic, but Max kept his speed down anyway. The last thing that he wanted was a traffic citation in the vicinity of anything 'unexplained' in their town. The route back to the house required that they go the block to the school and loop around it driving back on the other side. As they approached the school Max saw local residents out gawking at the building as smoke poured out of several doors. He noticed that Kyle was staring at the high school with a very... sphinx-like... look on his face. He seemed to be more at peace with himself, Buddhist philosophy notwithstanding, than Max had seen him in a long time. The fire department had run hoses in through the school doors, to fight whatever fire there was.
Max was aching to ask, but he let Kyle have his space until they were around the school and headed back home. Then he could contain himself no longer. "What happened? And what's wrong with Michael?"
Kyle snorted, still looking expressionless. "He'll be okay I think, for the moment. He was conscious and able to walk for a little while. Long enough for us to get out of the school, then he folded. Basically I think that he drained himself, and he took a harder hit to begin with, because he was between me and the worst of it. There's some serious bruising showing."
Max made an exasperated noise. "Bruising I can fix once we get back to the house. How did it happen?"
Kyle grimaced slightly. "Not like this Max. There's blood showing in the whites of his eyes." Kyle sighed softly. "We were followed. By the time we realized it, she had us."
Max frowned. He was losing patience. "Who?" he asked, even though he feared that he knew the answer already.
Kyle looked over at him. His face was no longer expressionless. In fact you could say that it was down right scary. His look was one of savage satisfaction. "The murdering Skin bitch, whose 'dandruff' is currently
floating around the West Roswell boiler room."
Max had initially held off contacting Liz, beyond telling her that he had their friends and was on his way back. Now though his startled mind reached out to her. There was a very fast information exchange.
"~Isabel is going to be upset that she missed this,~" Liz said. "~And I shudder to think what our adult 'sponsors' will have to say.~"
Max shrugged internally. "~I don't have the full story yet, but there's not much that we can do about that.~"
There was a groan from the back seat accompanied by a muttered 'Yeah, yeah Blondie, I hear ya.'
Max chuckled. "~It sounds like Michael's awake....and grumpy.~"
Liz's amusement rolled in over the connection. "~Yup, I'd say so. Maria just started bouncing around the room like a lunatic, and she's grinning and blubbering at the same time.~" Liz gave a mental sigh. "~I'd better log off and deal with her.~"
Max grinned. "~We're almost home. See you in a few minutes. I love you.~"
"~I love you too!~" responded Liz, then the connection dialed down.
As Max made the turn onto his street he made a silent vow. After he and Liz were married, no more than one crisis a month and after their first baby, no more than one a year.
Of course, the road to hell is said to be paved with good intentions.
The Bedroom of Isabel Evans....Same time
Isabel sighed and then stirred in her sleep and murmured a name before settling back with a contented smile. She murmured again. "Surprise." The she frowned. "A leprechaun?" After that her face smoothed over. Behind her eye lids her pupils were in motion. She was in REM state, or at least she was in *someone's* REM state.
Downstairs at the Evans Residence......Same Time
Liz held the door open as a disoriented and groaning Michael was carried in, supported between Kyle and Max, to be delivered to the couch and the attentions of his soul mate. After Max and Kyle had deposited Michael
with Maria, Liz yanked Kyle into a hug, while Max worked on healing Michael. "Don't you two *ever* scare us like that again! What happened? Michael wasn't too coherent with Maria. All I got was that it was a Skin."
Kyle sighed. "Yeah, she followed us. Apparently it was the assassin that Nicholas left behind, she was down to the wire on her husk and couldn't afford to wait anymore. So she came after us without orders."
Max looked up from his work to say, "Liz, I could use a hand here. He has some deep injuries; a lot of them. Nothing *immediately* life threatening, but they will be if we don't get on top of them."
Liz moved over to where Michael lay on the couch with his head resting in Maria's lap as she stroked his hair gently. He was only semi-conscious. Awake enough for Max to connect somewhat, but not enough for coherent speech. Max was kneeling next to Michael, his glowing hand on Michael's chest. "Fusion?" she asked.
Max had half a connection with Michael already; enough to know that this called for the heavy artillery. "I'd say so. There's no one thing wrong with him that I can't fix... given time. It's just that he's so messed up inside that before I can fix *everything*, some part of it will cripple him permanently, or kill him. His blood vessels are leaking like a sieve, his spleen has partially ruptured, and he's starting to get something that looks like 'the bends', if I understand what the bends are correctly. This needs Hector."
Wordlessly Liz slid down next to Max and laid a delicate hand on Michael's chest next to Max's and turned her head to lay her forehead against Max's temple, as she reached for Max through the connection......
**FUSION**
As usual Hector awoke to an emergency. The michael was desperately injured. The spleen was the immediate issue. It was the work of moments to reassemble it. From there It turned Its attention outward, supporting the failing circulatory system as It ran repairs that had to go to the cellular level. It was almost as if the michael had taken a dose of hard radiation, but one that selectively targeted the blood vessels. As It worked, part of Its attention was on the gas bubbles in the blood stream itself. The max had believed it to be 'the bends', as humans called it. That was only partially correct, in that it wasn't nitrogen bubbling out of suspension, but a combination of hydrogen and oxygen. Something had caused some of the free water in the michael's body to break down at the molecular level and to partially electrolyze. As a result, the michael was not only in danger of embolism, he was dehydrated as well. It took Hector several minutes to run down those rogue gas bubbles, and reassemble most of the shattered molecules into their benign liquid state. After running one more sweep to assure Itself of Its handiwork and forcing the michael into sleep, It withdrew into dormancy again with the grumpy observation that Its constituents and their friends were certainly accident prone...
**FISSION**
Kyle had stood by fidgeting as he watched Max and Liz's eyes go black on black. It didn't creep him out the way that he'd imagined it would when he'd first heard about it; it was just another aspect of his life now. These were his friends. Without them, he'd have been dead long ago; dead twice over now. So he stood silently, next to the couch and watched Max and Liz work on Michael, as he kept a comforting hand on Maria's shoulder.
Maria was entirely focused on Michael, unable to take her eyes off of him. She'd been striving to fuse with him, to ascertain his condition, but he'd blocked her. Her awareness of him still hadn't developed enough for her to *know* his condition. So, aside from some incoherent telepathic ramblings and a general feeling of terrible pain, through their connection, she didn't know what was going on with him. Not first hand. And Max's words had frightened her deeply. She'd just found her connection with Michael. She couldn't lose it now! So, as her hands stroked his hair gently, inside she was building up a head of steam. Spaceboy wasn't going to get away with this. They were supposed to share! If he'd blocked her simply to spare her his pain, then he was going to get the mother of all rants. And he'd learn to be more careful, if it was the last thing that she did! Her hands stroked his hair gently as first one tear...then another, dropped onto his upturned face.
After several minutes there was a sigh from Liz, and she and Max stirred. Max turned his head to deliver the gentlest of kisses. "Thanks."
Liz smiled. "What for? For being your other half? Too late, I think that that was set in cement before we were born." She looked up at Maria and said, "He'll be okay now, but he needed time to recover, so Hector put him to sleep and I doubt that he'll wake up again tonight."
Maria nearly collapsed with relief. "Thank you Max, thank you Lizzie." She eased her lap from under Michael's head and slipped a pillow underneath in its place. Then she stood up and threw her arms around Kyle. "And thank you for getting him out of there. I couldn't get much from him, but what I did get made it clear that you saved the day. Thank you!"
There was nothing for Kyle to do, but hug her back, though he was clearly uncomfortable as he patted her back. "The way things are going you may end up my step-sister, that makes sleeping beauty over there my brother-in-law-to-be. I couldn't leave him there... not after he saved my ass by being in the way when everything went to hell."
Max stood and walked over to Kyle. "I remember seeing you wince back there when I found you. Something about your ribs I think? Lets see them."
Kyle shook his head. "I'm fine. I hurt, but I've played an entire quarter with worse."
Maria disengaged and stepped away. "Kyle Valenti, as your 'almost sister' I'm ordering you to take that shirt off, now."
Kyle snorted and gestured at Michael. "You might scare him Maria, but you don't scare me."
This was Kyle's big mistake, and Michael's blessing, because Kyle had just caused Maria's head of steam to shift focus. "Kyle," she said sweetly, "I've had just about enough of men pretending that they're made out of twisted steel or something. Now, you have two options," she turned, grabbed her purse, and pulled out her cell phone, holding it up for him to see, "you have to the count of ten to peel out of that shirt so that we can see what happened to you... OR... I can call my mother. And I guarantee you that, wherever she is, your father is. Now, what's it going to be?"
Kyle swallowed. "You wouldn't."
Maria smirked, her finger poised over the phone's key pad. "Do the words 'speed dial' mean anything to you?"
Kyle deflated and defiantly peeled his shirt off over his head. "There! Happy now?"
Liz gasped at the sight of the enormous bruise covering his right side. It was easily the size of a dinner platter, and it ran from the middle of his ribcage to his waist. "Kyle, that's nothing to joke about! How can you move with that?"
Kyle looked down and said, "I didn't know that it was that big. It really doesn't hurt all that much." He worked his arm and shoulder, trying to stretch that side. He winced sharply and stopped. "Okay, so maybe it's a little worse than I thought."
Max stepped up and ran his hand up and down Kyle's side, and frowned. "This is more than just a bruise," he said. Then he turned to his soul mate, "Liz, come over here please? We need Hector again for a minute."
Liz didn't pause to ask, in fact the fusion was already there before she finished stepping forward.
**FUSION**
It was awake yet again. This was getting to be a habit. It was the kyle this time. This irritated Hector somewhat, because the kyle had already been the recipient of some of It's best work to date. It forced the connection and looked the patient over. The damage had a lot in common with the michael's, but the kyle hadn't received as strong a general dose of whatever had hit the michael. Still, what looked like a bruise was actually a break down of the blood vessels resulting in a hemorrhage beneath the skin. It looked like a bruise, but there was no physical trauma associated with it. The bad part was that it was growing minute by minute, both outward and inward. Very soon major organs would be compromised. This needed to be corrected immediately. It reached into the damaged flesh at the molecular level and It began knitting the tissues back together as It traced the trail of shattered and disrupted tissues deep into the boy's body. Had It's constituents not forced the kyle to accept treatment he likely would have died in his sleep during the night, unaware of the extent of his injuries. It completed repairs with the advice that the max and the liz discover exactly what the nature of the weapon was, because a really serious hit might be beyond even It's abilities to repair. Then it returned to dormancy...
**FISSION**
This time Liz swayed slightly and sat down hard in a nearby chair. What was it with Kyle and close calls with hidden death? In a rusty sounding voice she said, "Maria, can I have something to drink?"
Maria looked at Max who said, "There's bottled water, Dr. Pepper, and Cherry Coke in the fridge out in the kitchen.
Maria took their orders and disappeared to fill them.
Kyle looked back and forth between Liz and Max. He didn't like the look that they were both wearing. "It was a bruise... right? Just a really big nasty bruise?"
Max shook his head slowly. "It was a slower moving version of what was wrong with Michael. And it would have killed you the same way that his would have killed him... if we hadn't healed it in time. Yours simply would have taken longer."
From her perch on the edge of the chair's seat Liz said, "Hector says that we need to know what sort of weapon did this, because a really serious hit might be beyond it's ability to fix. Kyle, I think that you'd better tell us exactly what happened at the school. What did that Skin do?"
As they watched, various emotions warred on Kyle's face. Anger squared off against sadness, yet that look of savage contentment won out in the end. "Michael didn't tell me his plan until we got to the school. He planned to use his powers to weaken the main water line in the basement. Not enough to break it right away though. It would hold together long enough for us to get away. He was also going to crack a weld on the boiler's water tank. All that could be explained as quake damage. We got in okay, and everything was going according to plan. There was no one around, so I guess that we got careless. We'd just entered the boiler room when *she* showed up."
Max frowned. "She who? Do we know her?"
Kyle nodded, "Yeah, you do. It was Sarah Troy."
Liz blinked. From behind her there was a startled intake of breath. They turned to see Maria standing frozen with their drinks. She unfroze and moved to an end table and set down the tray that she was carrying. "Did I hear right, Kyle?" she asked. "Sarah Troy? As in Mrs. Troy? Mrs. Robert Troy is a Skin?"
Kyle shook his head. "No, she *was* a Skin, now she's dust."
Max cleared his throat. This was the last, the very last, thing that he would have expected. "We'll have to investigate Mr. Troy and Pam now."
Kyle shook his head grimly. "Nope, I don't think so. Like Nicholas, once she thought that she had the upper hand, she was the talkative type. And from what she said........"
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Wed Apr 20, 2005 2:42 am, edited 1 time in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17e
(The Long Way Home)
West Roswell High School.....about 45 minutes earlier
Michael pressed his hand to the door lock on the staff entrance leading into the teacher's lounge. There was a faint glowing as the muffled shift and click of the lock greeted his efforts. The door popped open and they moved inside. Once they were both in Michael held out his hand and a faint illumination sprang up above his palm. Very faint. Just enough to keep them from tripping and breaking their necks, but not enough to be seen from outside.
Kyle whistled softly. "You guys are just full of talents. You're going to have to show me that trick one day."
Michael snorted. "You'd be better off having Max show you. He's the one that figured out how to do it, on the fly, when River Dog tested him."
Kyle chuckled. "I'm not talking about the alien flashlight. I mean the breaking and entering."
"Your father might not approve of that particular talent," Michael said. "He just *barely* approves of *this*. Besides, I'm still not tops at finagling a lock. I get it more often than not though, maybe eighty percent of the time."
Kyle looked interested anyway. "What happens the other twenty percent of the time?"
Michael looked away and muttered, "I'd rather not talk about it."
Kyle grinned, remembering Michael's 'control issues'. God only knew what had happened to those locks that he hadn't had any luck with. They were probably slag. Any other time he'd have been merciless, but this wasn't the time or the place. "You lead; the door to the basement is out the door and down the hall, to the right."
Michael snorted. "I know that. After all my years as a dedicated slacker, did you think that I wouldn't know every good hiding place in this school, inside and out?"
Kyle chuckled. "I stand corrected," he responded.
Michael made a disgusted noise and headed out the door with Kyle trailing behind and to his left. They'd reached the door to the basement stairs when Michael suddenly halted, his head coming up, like a hunting dog that's caught a strange scent.
Kyle noticed his partner's stance. "What's up?"
Michael held his alert pose a moment longer, then he shook his head and reached for the door knob. "Nothing... . I.... nothing, for just a second there it felt like...." He paused and pulled the door open and hit a wall switch inside to turn on the lights in the hall and the basement.
Kyle wasn't put off. "Felt like what?" he asked as they started down the stairs, with Kyle leading this time.
They were halfway down, neither of them noticing the fact that the slow closing door behind them had not closed completely, when a female voice behind them answered Kyle's question. "It felt like me." Then there was darkness.
When Kyle came to, there was a moment of disorientation and pain, as the memory returned first. The stairs, the mission, the voice. "Shit," he thought, "we got jumped." Then his hearing and vision cleared. He must have groaned aloud because a female voice coming from a blurry figure said, "This is getting to be a habit with you Kyle. The last time that I saw you, one on one, this was what happened. If you're going to run with such dangerous company, you really should have learned to be more careful by now."
The figure finally snapped into focus. "Mrs. Troy? Is that you?"
The woman laughed and looked down at herself. "Oh, you mean *this* old thing," she asked as she waved her hand down her body. "This is just something I threw on last year when the general asked me to stick around as your keeper. I kept hoping that something would trip that implant that he gave you, so that you'd quietly keel over, then I could kill your father and blow town. But n-o-o-o, you, stolid unimaginative monkey that you are, have to stay upright. So now, with this husk running out of time, *I* have to get my hands dirty. I really, really, *hate* that."
Kyle blinked. He was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't on the list. "Hmmm, I don't remember seeing you the night that Pimple Boy interrupted my date with Tess." He paused. "So, Boy Toy's mother is a psychotic alien? Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. They say that blood will tell."
'Sarah' Troy blinked. "Oh please, don't assume for even one instant that I am in any way related to that... that... simpering moron." She frowned. "Wait a minute...you remember? Then why aren't you dead? I was there the night that the General implanted you. *I* was one of those restraining you." The alien soldier sighed. " You could have saved me so much trouble by being dead."
Kyle shrugged and groaned slightly at the pain in his side. "I guess that Nicky boy didn't do as good a job as you thought that he did. What can I say? Fallibility is a bitch." He assayed a grin, but it was overridden as he thought of something. "What happened to Sarah Troy? And who are you really? I can't keep thinking of you as Mrs. Troy."
The Skin shrugged. "You couldn't pronounce my name anyway. Call me Krat if you have to. As for the late Mrs. Troy, she's been an entree for coyotes and ants, in an out of the way corner of Lincoln County since last year. I'm sure that someone will find her, someday. But not soon enough to do *me* any harm." She looked down at her arm and peeled off a long strip of skin. It dissolved as she dropped it. "I selected her because she was such a non-entity; a nobody really, the perfect stalking horse. This short duration husk was shaped and forced to maturity quickly for me to use, unlike the long duration husks that were destroyed at Copper Summit., which take years to mature. Now it's dying; being killed by this stinking climate." She stalked over to stare down at Kyle. "In any event, I blended in, biding my time and watching. I filled in the empty days by manipulating that clueless idiot of a 'daughter' to try and get her to create trouble among the Royals. She failed." The alien sighed melodramatically. "Like all human parents, I am so disappointed in my children. " She grinned. "They should consider that the fruit really doesn't fall far from the tree with your species. I even tried to kill time by getting a little something going on the side with your father, just to make things a little easier when the time came, but the moron rejected me! He's so taken with the DeLuca woman that he might as well be stone blind! I will *never* understand you humans and your allegiances." The alien shook her head in disgust. "Anyway, all that is over now. Tonight, I'll dispense with you, along with Lord Rath as a bonus, followed by your father, and my ersatz 'family'. A clean sweep. Then I can rejoin my general and get back into a proper husk."
Kyle said nothing. He didn't trust his voice. He'd thought that he had known anger before in his life, but what he was feeling at the moment was terrifying in its intensity. This *Thing* had played a part in Tess' degradation, and his torment. It had killed an innocent woman for nothing more than convenience sake. It had been waiting and watching all this time. Playing games with people. He couldn't control it anymore, his face twisted into a wordless snarl.
The alien's head cocked slightly as she watched Kyle's face. "Well, I must have struck a nerve....or is it several nerves? That makes things a little easier, knowing that you have weak points to exploit." She grinned. "But then, what human doesn't?" She held up her hand, which began to glow. "I'm not the artist at mind rape that His Excellency is, but I think that I can handle some good old fashioned torture just fine. Do us both a favor Valenti. Save yourself some pain, and me a lot of time and trouble, and just tell me what I want to know quickly." She had squatted down and was beginning to reach for Kyle's leg when a groan behind her caused her to stand up and turn towards where Michael lay on the boiler room floor.
"Well, hello Rath," she said. " I didn't expect you to wake up for quite a while yet. Before you try to contact that monkey girl that you 'bump uglies with', save yourself the effort. This husk has a few built in features that the others don't. One is a communications suppresser. I can block telepathic communication at will. There won't be any chit chat to distract us from the business at hand."
Michael made an effort to haul himself erect against the wall as he started to say, "Kiss my..."
Krat was still across the room, but she raised her hand...and an invisible fist slammed a still only semi coherent Michael back against the wall. She raised her hand slightly and Michael slid up the wall, leaving his feet dangling as he was pressed against the wall like an insect under a pane of glass. "Mind your manners Milord," her voice turning the honorific into a sneering curse, "the nature of the remaining moments of your life depends entirely on my good will. Which is stretched pretty thin at the moment."
Energy flickered over Michael's body as he attempted to gather enough power to fight back. The alien assassin simply increased the pressure, forcing him to the edge of blackout again.
Kyle struggled to his feet, and the alien heard him, sparing him a glance. "Don't bother with anything as silly as an attempt to tackle me jockstrap, I'll hear you coming, then we'll both be sorry. Because you'll be dead sooner than need be... and I'll be short one interrogation subject." She turned back towards Michael who was continuing to expend energy that he couldn't spare in an effort to break free of her grip. "I'll be done with Rath momentarily and then we can talk, at length, about your impending fatherhood." She never looked back at him, but instead, in a display of contempt, kept her focus on Michael. "Since you remember, you must remember *that* as well...if indeed you *ever* knew at all." Taking his silence for an acknowledgment of the truth she went on. "You probably didn't think that we knew about that, eh Kyle? The truth is, we didn't until last month's contact with the home world. My oh my, was K'var livid. Here he was, all set for a Royal Heir, and instead he's going to get more monkeys. It's been decided to let the pregnancy run it's course, to shame Princess Ava's family, and because no one has ever seen such a birth. Besides, new lab rats and zoo exhibits are always welcome...."
Kyle had had more than enough. The already terrifying fury in him rose to ferocious heights as the alien continued her focus on his friend, while contemptuously ignoring him...leaving her flank unprotected. He could feel the hate swelling in his chest, like a living thing, coiling and recoiling back upon itself, winding tighter and tighter. Somewhere deep inside Kyle some newly awakened instinct came to the fore, causing him to raise his hand and clench it into a fist. Flickering streamers of red began traveling across his body and down his arm, to gather into a ball in front of his extended fist. Slowly at first, the veins of red came. Then faster, and faster still, thickening crimson filaments raced down Kyle's arm too the tangled knot of power beyond the end of his knuckles. It was only a matter of moments until the energy ball built into a monster.
Then something caused the killer to glance back at him. Whether it was his extended silence, or some instinct warning the alien of approaching death, it would be knowledge that the assassin would take with her into oblivion. As she turned, she beheld a horrifying sight; the human that she had discounted as a serious threat, with his face transfigured by pain and loss into an unrecognizable mask, and holding a still gathering energy nexus under restraint. She only had a moment to register Kyle Valenti's intent before he bellowed and released his creation causing his fist to recoil violently. Kyle no longer cared what happened to himself, or to anyone or anything else. He cared only that this Thing before him die. The rage and hatred came out in one stentorian howl as the ball expanded into a wave and swept over it's intended target, which vanished like a figure of wax suddenly deposited before an open blast furnace. Kyle staggered back against the wall, but managed to stay upright, as he watched his enemy's demise. Suddenly he was panting like a marathon runner at the end of a race. But he still managed to find enough breath to get out, "Hear me coming will you? Did you hear *that*?!"
Kyle shook his head and suddenly became fully aware of his surroundings again. He knew what he had done. He just didn't believe it...or understand *how* he had done it. The room was starting to fill with smoke. The boiler and plumbing were now pretty well wrecked... far beyond what Michael had planned, simply because they had been in the line of fire when he'd vaporized their assailant. Surveying the damage he winced. His father would *not* be happy. Add to that the small fires that were breaking out and you could say that they'd really messed up tonight, big time. The fire alarms chose that moment to take notice of things and started to wail. Kyle grimaced, pain or no pain, exhaustion or no exhaustion, they had to get the hell out of the building before anyone 'official' arrived. If they stayed, either the smoke or the cops would get them. Staggering over to a barely conscious Michael he helped his companion to stand up, and steered him towards the stairs.
It turned out that escaping the building was the easy part. The hard part came once they got outside, when Michael had grunted in pain and folded up like an empty sack, compelling Kyle to carry him.......
The Evans Household.....the present....
"Which is right before you found us Max," Kyle finished.
Maria walked over and gave him a tight hug. "You can be *my* big brother any day." She paused and sighed. "Though I thought that I'd *never* see the day when I'd be feeling sorry for 'Boytoy Troy'. Whatever that thing was doing to her, it couldn't have been much. She was still the same old bitch that we all grew up with."
Max sighed. "I wish that we could have taken her alive."
Both girls turned on him.
Liz thumped his chest. "Max, Michael was helpless against her! Kyle only caught her off guard because she was over-confident. That sort of thing works only once."
Maria chimed in with, "Yeah! What could we ask her about anyway... that she wouldn't lie about!?"
"No, Max is right," Kyle said. "I overdid it, if for no other reason than that I nuked the entire boiler room. We were only supposed to dent it slightly. Dad is *not* going to be thrilled." A little of that former savagery flashed in Kyle's eyes. "Besides, I think that I could have managed to *make* myself torture her, without too much trouble. Two issues I'd have liked answers to are *anything* to do with Tess, and whether or not Mrs. Troy is really dead."
Max glanced at Kyle for a moment. That bloodthirsty tone made him vaguely uneasy. He hoped that he wasn't going to have to have a private talk with the sheriff, about Kyle. Then he held up his hand. "Ease off ladies. I only said that I *wished* that we had taken her alive. I never thought that it was a practical idea!" Then he turned to Kyle and put his hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Under the circumstances, I'd say that overkill was better than underkill would have been. Staying alive had priority over taking a prisoner. No information is worth your life at this point. You were only going to get one shot at it, and your first time out, control issues were to be expected. And we can take care of those later, with some training." Max glanced at Liz. "That goes for both of you."
Trying to lighten the mood Maria whispered something to Liz that sounded suspiciously like 'control issues' and both girls started to snicker while looking straight at Kyle. Kyle glared at them. He didn't need sub-titles to know where their minds were at. "Not since I was thirteen, so forget it!" he snapped.
Maria smirked. "Just getting a head start on a little sisterly teasing."
"If we could get back to the subject at hand?" Max said dryly. "Don't worry about your dad, Kyle. We'll square it with him. I'm pretty sure that he'll be too happy that you're in one piece to be too pissed off for very long."
Kyle sighed. "You were still right though. We should have taken her alive, if for no other reason than to find out where she left the real Mrs. Troy." He sat down, looking morose now. "How do we tell Mr. Troy? *What* do we tell Mr. Troy? And what about Tess? K'var obviously knows that he's been had. This is so *not* good."
Liz's cell phone began to ring. She pulled it out and looked at the incoming caller's ID, then handed it to Max. "It's for you Your Majesty, it's Jim, and that ring sounds pretty pissed off to me." She gave him a kiss. "It's time that Maria and I got back to my place, before my folks send out the hounds. Keep the phone, and give it back to me tomorrow."
Max handed her the keys to the Chevelle, and stole a quick kiss, then flipped open the phone. "Hello Sheriff. Yes, I know about the damage.... yeah, I'm sorry... I... if you'll let me..." As Liz and Maria collected their purses and beat a hasty retreat towards the door, Max was silent for a long time. By the time he heard the car engine start his ears were beginning to flush a little. He jerked the phone away from his ear and looked at it sourly. An alien king he might be, but to some people he was still just a teenager. He held the phone out to Kyle. "Here, he wants to talk to you."
Kyle looked as sour as Max, but he accepted the phone anyway. Bringing it to his ear he said, "Hi dad." Then he jerked it away. He stared at it a moment then began get mad. "Dad, whenever you're ready to talk about things as opposed to treating me like a kid , give me a call, I'm at the Evans'. I had to kill a Skin tonight. Call me back, or come over, but be prepared to listen for a change." Kyle cut the connection and stood up, tossing the phone on the chair. He turned to Max and said, "If he doesn't call back, then that means that he's on his way. Let's get Michael into bed before he gets here."
Max nodded as he joined Kyle in trying to hoist Michael to his feet. "He was seriously pissed. I got the impression that he and Amy had rounded third base and were headed for home when the station paged him." There was no point in trying to walk Michael, and dragging him seemed...rude. So Max got his shoulders and Kyle got his feet.
They were carrying Michael down the hall to the guest room when Kyle's face twisted. "It's a good thing that you waited to say that until *after* Maria left. She and I are getting used to the idea that her mother and my father are hot and heavy. All the same, knowing just exactly *how* hot and *how* heavy isn't the stuff that dreams are made of for us."
Max grinned sympathetically. "Well, if things keep going the way that they are, I suspect that you'll both have *years* in which to grow accustomed to it."
Kyle looked sour again and made an unmistakable hand gesture that told Max exactly what Kyle thought of him and his vision of the future. Max laughed quietly and shook his head. Between the two of them they stripped Michael to his boxers and put him to bed just in time. They'd no sooner arrived back in the living room when the front door swung open without a knock and Jim and Amy charged in. Their disheveled appearance made it evident that Max had been too close to the truth for Kyle's comfort.
"Max, I just came from the school. The fire department is calling it a 'boiler explosion', but you and I *both* know that it wasn't. What it *was* was beyond the scope of what you told *me* that you were going to do. Then Kyle tells me that he killed a Skin." He turned to Kyle. "Okay, I'm here, and I'm listening. Talk to me."
Kyle sighed, but he met his father's eye, and repeated his story without embellishment. When he came to the part about Michael's injury and healing, Amy gave a small cry and jumped to her feet to check on him. Before anyone could stop her, she was down the hall and into the guest bedroom. Nurturing runs stronger in some women than in others, and Amy DeLuca was one of the stronger types. She was only gone a moment, so Kyle waited for her to get back. The story finished with Kyle's healing, and Amy's demand to see where he's been hurt.
Amy's motherhood hackles rose at the implied threat from K'var to Tess and the baby. She looked at Max and said, "Has this Larek shown *any* signs of paying a visit at all?"
Max shook his head. "He hasn't been around in quite a while. And Brody hasn't suffered any of the symptoms that he has in the past when Larek is getting ready for an.... abduction. No blackouts, or lost time episodes."
Amy's mouth hardened in a grim line. "Then I think that it's time for you to ask Brody's permission to 'phone home'."
Max frowned. "That could be risky...to Brody."
Amy's glare deepened. "You ask him Max, or I will."
Max sighed and nodded. "One crisis at a time. Let us get through this weekend and we'll discuss it as a group.
Jim had been largely silent on the Tess situation, choosing to let the others handle it. All he could do for her right now was worry, which accomplished nothing. Instead he stuck to those concerns that he *could* handle. He rubbed his temples. "Lincoln County she said? That's out of my jurisdiction, but once Bob Troy files a missing persons report, I'm sure that we can arrange for an anonymous tip to point in that direction. It isn't much, but it's all we dare do for the Troy's, and it's better than nothing." He sighed. "I'm still not a happy man, but I do understand the meaning of 'collateral damage' as well as the next guy." He looked at Kyle. "I'm proud of you Son; very proud."
Kyle flushed. "I was just trying to stay alive, Dad."
Jim smiled and said, with a little irony, "Some days, that's the best that a 'white hat' can hope for, Son. I learned that during my first year in law enforcement. There's an old saying the goes, 'Some days you get the bear, and some days the bear gets you.' In my line of work you're supposed to get the bear, but if the bear gets *you* that means that you've blown it, and probably let down the people that you're supposed to protect from the bear in the bargain. I think that you just faced that test tonight. And you passed with flying colors."
Kyle smiled back at his father, and for the first time in a very long time he came to the realization that it wasn't his father's involvement in his own issues that had separated them for so long. To large degree it was Kyle's *perception* of his father's issues. Tonight, here and now, he understood his father better and with a clarity that had escaped him for years. "Thanks, Dad; that means a lot. Now, I think that you and Amy had other plans for tonight?"
Amy flushed. "I don't know if....." she started to say before Kyle cut her off.
"Talking about it in front of Max and I only makes a wrong decision a sure thing," he said. "You two get lost. Isabel and Michael are both sound asleep, the girls are at Liz's by now, and Max and I can hold down the fort here. No sweat."
The two adults glanced at each other. Amy shrugged at Jim and he nodded back. It sucked when the kids grew up enough to be justified in asserting themselves. Especially in this kind of role reversal. Jim rose and offered his hand to Amy to help her to her feet. "You two stay alert," he told the boys. "There may have been more than one Skin, and the death of one will just make any others more cautious. So be careful. And I expect you to pass that advice along to the rest of the group too!"
Amy hugged the boys and gave them both a motherly kiss before following Jim out the door. They'd almost reached the truck when Jim seized Amy and spun her around, gently pinning her wrists behind her. She could have escaped him, with only modest effort, but chose not to. He was nuzzling her neck when he said, "Now, how was that sentence, that Kyle interrupted, supposed to end? Hmmm? 'You don't know if'.....what?"
"Jim!" she protested. "We're in public! What will you say to the Evans' neighbors? Most of them must know us!"
Jim continued his nuzzling assault. "Ummmm...move along, there's nothing to see here?"
"Hmmmph," she snorted. "Let's at least get this 'discussion' behind closed doors before we continue it."
Jim chuckled. "So you agree to a 'discussion'?" he asked playfully.
Amy giggled back, and entered into the play as well. "If you're really lucky, you might even get an intensive and *lengthy* 'debate' out of it," she said. "But that's all."
Jim grinned. "We'll see, some of my arguments have been known to be very....penetrating."
Amy gasped and yanked her right hand free to thump him on the chest. "Don't get cocky Mr.... I.... cocky.... I.... oh, I cannot *believe* that I just said that!"
Jim relented after stealing a kiss. He was laughing when he said, "Well, lets go. I can't wait to see where 'conversation' takes us tonight! That was *some* Freudian slip there."
Jim held the passenger door open for her and stole another kiss, this one a little more lengthy than before, then rounded to the driver's side and got in.
As they drove away, Kyle stood with his back to the inside of the Evans' front door, hyper-ventilating, after observing his dad and Amy through the door window. "In public no less. They couldn't even wait to get indoors. What a pair of horndogs!"
Max snorted from where he was sitting on the couch, channel surfing. "I told you not to watch. Parents are human too. Do you think that mine would hold back, no matter how much it might gag me to see it?" Max gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "You have to give them room... even if they're reluctant to return the courtesy when it comes to you. As I recall, you said that you and Tess could be similarly... indiscreet, and then some."
Kyle walked back into the living room and sighed disconsolately. "I know that Evans. It doesn't mean that I have to like it."
Max grinned and tossed him the remote. "I can't face homework tonight, and it's a cinch that we're out of school tomorrow. See if you can find a game for us to unwind with, and I'll hit the kitchen for some food." He smirked. "We'll see if the full blown arrival of alien powers has given you a taste for Tabasco."
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17e
(The Long Way Home)
West Roswell High School.....about 45 minutes earlier
Michael pressed his hand to the door lock on the staff entrance leading into the teacher's lounge. There was a faint glowing as the muffled shift and click of the lock greeted his efforts. The door popped open and they moved inside. Once they were both in Michael held out his hand and a faint illumination sprang up above his palm. Very faint. Just enough to keep them from tripping and breaking their necks, but not enough to be seen from outside.
Kyle whistled softly. "You guys are just full of talents. You're going to have to show me that trick one day."
Michael snorted. "You'd be better off having Max show you. He's the one that figured out how to do it, on the fly, when River Dog tested him."
Kyle chuckled. "I'm not talking about the alien flashlight. I mean the breaking and entering."
"Your father might not approve of that particular talent," Michael said. "He just *barely* approves of *this*. Besides, I'm still not tops at finagling a lock. I get it more often than not though, maybe eighty percent of the time."
Kyle looked interested anyway. "What happens the other twenty percent of the time?"
Michael looked away and muttered, "I'd rather not talk about it."
Kyle grinned, remembering Michael's 'control issues'. God only knew what had happened to those locks that he hadn't had any luck with. They were probably slag. Any other time he'd have been merciless, but this wasn't the time or the place. "You lead; the door to the basement is out the door and down the hall, to the right."
Michael snorted. "I know that. After all my years as a dedicated slacker, did you think that I wouldn't know every good hiding place in this school, inside and out?"
Kyle chuckled. "I stand corrected," he responded.
Michael made a disgusted noise and headed out the door with Kyle trailing behind and to his left. They'd reached the door to the basement stairs when Michael suddenly halted, his head coming up, like a hunting dog that's caught a strange scent.
Kyle noticed his partner's stance. "What's up?"
Michael held his alert pose a moment longer, then he shook his head and reached for the door knob. "Nothing... . I.... nothing, for just a second there it felt like...." He paused and pulled the door open and hit a wall switch inside to turn on the lights in the hall and the basement.
Kyle wasn't put off. "Felt like what?" he asked as they started down the stairs, with Kyle leading this time.
They were halfway down, neither of them noticing the fact that the slow closing door behind them had not closed completely, when a female voice behind them answered Kyle's question. "It felt like me." Then there was darkness.
When Kyle came to, there was a moment of disorientation and pain, as the memory returned first. The stairs, the mission, the voice. "Shit," he thought, "we got jumped." Then his hearing and vision cleared. He must have groaned aloud because a female voice coming from a blurry figure said, "This is getting to be a habit with you Kyle. The last time that I saw you, one on one, this was what happened. If you're going to run with such dangerous company, you really should have learned to be more careful by now."
The figure finally snapped into focus. "Mrs. Troy? Is that you?"
The woman laughed and looked down at herself. "Oh, you mean *this* old thing," she asked as she waved her hand down her body. "This is just something I threw on last year when the general asked me to stick around as your keeper. I kept hoping that something would trip that implant that he gave you, so that you'd quietly keel over, then I could kill your father and blow town. But n-o-o-o, you, stolid unimaginative monkey that you are, have to stay upright. So now, with this husk running out of time, *I* have to get my hands dirty. I really, really, *hate* that."
Kyle blinked. He was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't on the list. "Hmmm, I don't remember seeing you the night that Pimple Boy interrupted my date with Tess." He paused. "So, Boy Toy's mother is a psychotic alien? Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. They say that blood will tell."
'Sarah' Troy blinked. "Oh please, don't assume for even one instant that I am in any way related to that... that... simpering moron." She frowned. "Wait a minute...you remember? Then why aren't you dead? I was there the night that the General implanted you. *I* was one of those restraining you." The alien soldier sighed. " You could have saved me so much trouble by being dead."
Kyle shrugged and groaned slightly at the pain in his side. "I guess that Nicky boy didn't do as good a job as you thought that he did. What can I say? Fallibility is a bitch." He assayed a grin, but it was overridden as he thought of something. "What happened to Sarah Troy? And who are you really? I can't keep thinking of you as Mrs. Troy."
The Skin shrugged. "You couldn't pronounce my name anyway. Call me Krat if you have to. As for the late Mrs. Troy, she's been an entree for coyotes and ants, in an out of the way corner of Lincoln County since last year. I'm sure that someone will find her, someday. But not soon enough to do *me* any harm." She looked down at her arm and peeled off a long strip of skin. It dissolved as she dropped it. "I selected her because she was such a non-entity; a nobody really, the perfect stalking horse. This short duration husk was shaped and forced to maturity quickly for me to use, unlike the long duration husks that were destroyed at Copper Summit., which take years to mature. Now it's dying; being killed by this stinking climate." She stalked over to stare down at Kyle. "In any event, I blended in, biding my time and watching. I filled in the empty days by manipulating that clueless idiot of a 'daughter' to try and get her to create trouble among the Royals. She failed." The alien sighed melodramatically. "Like all human parents, I am so disappointed in my children. " She grinned. "They should consider that the fruit really doesn't fall far from the tree with your species. I even tried to kill time by getting a little something going on the side with your father, just to make things a little easier when the time came, but the moron rejected me! He's so taken with the DeLuca woman that he might as well be stone blind! I will *never* understand you humans and your allegiances." The alien shook her head in disgust. "Anyway, all that is over now. Tonight, I'll dispense with you, along with Lord Rath as a bonus, followed by your father, and my ersatz 'family'. A clean sweep. Then I can rejoin my general and get back into a proper husk."
Kyle said nothing. He didn't trust his voice. He'd thought that he had known anger before in his life, but what he was feeling at the moment was terrifying in its intensity. This *Thing* had played a part in Tess' degradation, and his torment. It had killed an innocent woman for nothing more than convenience sake. It had been waiting and watching all this time. Playing games with people. He couldn't control it anymore, his face twisted into a wordless snarl.
The alien's head cocked slightly as she watched Kyle's face. "Well, I must have struck a nerve....or is it several nerves? That makes things a little easier, knowing that you have weak points to exploit." She grinned. "But then, what human doesn't?" She held up her hand, which began to glow. "I'm not the artist at mind rape that His Excellency is, but I think that I can handle some good old fashioned torture just fine. Do us both a favor Valenti. Save yourself some pain, and me a lot of time and trouble, and just tell me what I want to know quickly." She had squatted down and was beginning to reach for Kyle's leg when a groan behind her caused her to stand up and turn towards where Michael lay on the boiler room floor.
"Well, hello Rath," she said. " I didn't expect you to wake up for quite a while yet. Before you try to contact that monkey girl that you 'bump uglies with', save yourself the effort. This husk has a few built in features that the others don't. One is a communications suppresser. I can block telepathic communication at will. There won't be any chit chat to distract us from the business at hand."
Michael made an effort to haul himself erect against the wall as he started to say, "Kiss my..."
Krat was still across the room, but she raised her hand...and an invisible fist slammed a still only semi coherent Michael back against the wall. She raised her hand slightly and Michael slid up the wall, leaving his feet dangling as he was pressed against the wall like an insect under a pane of glass. "Mind your manners Milord," her voice turning the honorific into a sneering curse, "the nature of the remaining moments of your life depends entirely on my good will. Which is stretched pretty thin at the moment."
Energy flickered over Michael's body as he attempted to gather enough power to fight back. The alien assassin simply increased the pressure, forcing him to the edge of blackout again.
Kyle struggled to his feet, and the alien heard him, sparing him a glance. "Don't bother with anything as silly as an attempt to tackle me jockstrap, I'll hear you coming, then we'll both be sorry. Because you'll be dead sooner than need be... and I'll be short one interrogation subject." She turned back towards Michael who was continuing to expend energy that he couldn't spare in an effort to break free of her grip. "I'll be done with Rath momentarily and then we can talk, at length, about your impending fatherhood." She never looked back at him, but instead, in a display of contempt, kept her focus on Michael. "Since you remember, you must remember *that* as well...if indeed you *ever* knew at all." Taking his silence for an acknowledgment of the truth she went on. "You probably didn't think that we knew about that, eh Kyle? The truth is, we didn't until last month's contact with the home world. My oh my, was K'var livid. Here he was, all set for a Royal Heir, and instead he's going to get more monkeys. It's been decided to let the pregnancy run it's course, to shame Princess Ava's family, and because no one has ever seen such a birth. Besides, new lab rats and zoo exhibits are always welcome...."
Kyle had had more than enough. The already terrifying fury in him rose to ferocious heights as the alien continued her focus on his friend, while contemptuously ignoring him...leaving her flank unprotected. He could feel the hate swelling in his chest, like a living thing, coiling and recoiling back upon itself, winding tighter and tighter. Somewhere deep inside Kyle some newly awakened instinct came to the fore, causing him to raise his hand and clench it into a fist. Flickering streamers of red began traveling across his body and down his arm, to gather into a ball in front of his extended fist. Slowly at first, the veins of red came. Then faster, and faster still, thickening crimson filaments raced down Kyle's arm too the tangled knot of power beyond the end of his knuckles. It was only a matter of moments until the energy ball built into a monster.
Then something caused the killer to glance back at him. Whether it was his extended silence, or some instinct warning the alien of approaching death, it would be knowledge that the assassin would take with her into oblivion. As she turned, she beheld a horrifying sight; the human that she had discounted as a serious threat, with his face transfigured by pain and loss into an unrecognizable mask, and holding a still gathering energy nexus under restraint. She only had a moment to register Kyle Valenti's intent before he bellowed and released his creation causing his fist to recoil violently. Kyle no longer cared what happened to himself, or to anyone or anything else. He cared only that this Thing before him die. The rage and hatred came out in one stentorian howl as the ball expanded into a wave and swept over it's intended target, which vanished like a figure of wax suddenly deposited before an open blast furnace. Kyle staggered back against the wall, but managed to stay upright, as he watched his enemy's demise. Suddenly he was panting like a marathon runner at the end of a race. But he still managed to find enough breath to get out, "Hear me coming will you? Did you hear *that*?!"
Kyle shook his head and suddenly became fully aware of his surroundings again. He knew what he had done. He just didn't believe it...or understand *how* he had done it. The room was starting to fill with smoke. The boiler and plumbing were now pretty well wrecked... far beyond what Michael had planned, simply because they had been in the line of fire when he'd vaporized their assailant. Surveying the damage he winced. His father would *not* be happy. Add to that the small fires that were breaking out and you could say that they'd really messed up tonight, big time. The fire alarms chose that moment to take notice of things and started to wail. Kyle grimaced, pain or no pain, exhaustion or no exhaustion, they had to get the hell out of the building before anyone 'official' arrived. If they stayed, either the smoke or the cops would get them. Staggering over to a barely conscious Michael he helped his companion to stand up, and steered him towards the stairs.
It turned out that escaping the building was the easy part. The hard part came once they got outside, when Michael had grunted in pain and folded up like an empty sack, compelling Kyle to carry him.......
The Evans Household.....the present....
"Which is right before you found us Max," Kyle finished.
Maria walked over and gave him a tight hug. "You can be *my* big brother any day." She paused and sighed. "Though I thought that I'd *never* see the day when I'd be feeling sorry for 'Boytoy Troy'. Whatever that thing was doing to her, it couldn't have been much. She was still the same old bitch that we all grew up with."
Max sighed. "I wish that we could have taken her alive."
Both girls turned on him.
Liz thumped his chest. "Max, Michael was helpless against her! Kyle only caught her off guard because she was over-confident. That sort of thing works only once."
Maria chimed in with, "Yeah! What could we ask her about anyway... that she wouldn't lie about!?"
"No, Max is right," Kyle said. "I overdid it, if for no other reason than that I nuked the entire boiler room. We were only supposed to dent it slightly. Dad is *not* going to be thrilled." A little of that former savagery flashed in Kyle's eyes. "Besides, I think that I could have managed to *make* myself torture her, without too much trouble. Two issues I'd have liked answers to are *anything* to do with Tess, and whether or not Mrs. Troy is really dead."
Max glanced at Kyle for a moment. That bloodthirsty tone made him vaguely uneasy. He hoped that he wasn't going to have to have a private talk with the sheriff, about Kyle. Then he held up his hand. "Ease off ladies. I only said that I *wished* that we had taken her alive. I never thought that it was a practical idea!" Then he turned to Kyle and put his hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Under the circumstances, I'd say that overkill was better than underkill would have been. Staying alive had priority over taking a prisoner. No information is worth your life at this point. You were only going to get one shot at it, and your first time out, control issues were to be expected. And we can take care of those later, with some training." Max glanced at Liz. "That goes for both of you."
Trying to lighten the mood Maria whispered something to Liz that sounded suspiciously like 'control issues' and both girls started to snicker while looking straight at Kyle. Kyle glared at them. He didn't need sub-titles to know where their minds were at. "Not since I was thirteen, so forget it!" he snapped.
Maria smirked. "Just getting a head start on a little sisterly teasing."
"If we could get back to the subject at hand?" Max said dryly. "Don't worry about your dad, Kyle. We'll square it with him. I'm pretty sure that he'll be too happy that you're in one piece to be too pissed off for very long."
Kyle sighed. "You were still right though. We should have taken her alive, if for no other reason than to find out where she left the real Mrs. Troy." He sat down, looking morose now. "How do we tell Mr. Troy? *What* do we tell Mr. Troy? And what about Tess? K'var obviously knows that he's been had. This is so *not* good."
Liz's cell phone began to ring. She pulled it out and looked at the incoming caller's ID, then handed it to Max. "It's for you Your Majesty, it's Jim, and that ring sounds pretty pissed off to me." She gave him a kiss. "It's time that Maria and I got back to my place, before my folks send out the hounds. Keep the phone, and give it back to me tomorrow."
Max handed her the keys to the Chevelle, and stole a quick kiss, then flipped open the phone. "Hello Sheriff. Yes, I know about the damage.... yeah, I'm sorry... I... if you'll let me..." As Liz and Maria collected their purses and beat a hasty retreat towards the door, Max was silent for a long time. By the time he heard the car engine start his ears were beginning to flush a little. He jerked the phone away from his ear and looked at it sourly. An alien king he might be, but to some people he was still just a teenager. He held the phone out to Kyle. "Here, he wants to talk to you."
Kyle looked as sour as Max, but he accepted the phone anyway. Bringing it to his ear he said, "Hi dad." Then he jerked it away. He stared at it a moment then began get mad. "Dad, whenever you're ready to talk about things as opposed to treating me like a kid , give me a call, I'm at the Evans'. I had to kill a Skin tonight. Call me back, or come over, but be prepared to listen for a change." Kyle cut the connection and stood up, tossing the phone on the chair. He turned to Max and said, "If he doesn't call back, then that means that he's on his way. Let's get Michael into bed before he gets here."
Max nodded as he joined Kyle in trying to hoist Michael to his feet. "He was seriously pissed. I got the impression that he and Amy had rounded third base and were headed for home when the station paged him." There was no point in trying to walk Michael, and dragging him seemed...rude. So Max got his shoulders and Kyle got his feet.
They were carrying Michael down the hall to the guest room when Kyle's face twisted. "It's a good thing that you waited to say that until *after* Maria left. She and I are getting used to the idea that her mother and my father are hot and heavy. All the same, knowing just exactly *how* hot and *how* heavy isn't the stuff that dreams are made of for us."
Max grinned sympathetically. "Well, if things keep going the way that they are, I suspect that you'll both have *years* in which to grow accustomed to it."
Kyle looked sour again and made an unmistakable hand gesture that told Max exactly what Kyle thought of him and his vision of the future. Max laughed quietly and shook his head. Between the two of them they stripped Michael to his boxers and put him to bed just in time. They'd no sooner arrived back in the living room when the front door swung open without a knock and Jim and Amy charged in. Their disheveled appearance made it evident that Max had been too close to the truth for Kyle's comfort.
"Max, I just came from the school. The fire department is calling it a 'boiler explosion', but you and I *both* know that it wasn't. What it *was* was beyond the scope of what you told *me* that you were going to do. Then Kyle tells me that he killed a Skin." He turned to Kyle. "Okay, I'm here, and I'm listening. Talk to me."
Kyle sighed, but he met his father's eye, and repeated his story without embellishment. When he came to the part about Michael's injury and healing, Amy gave a small cry and jumped to her feet to check on him. Before anyone could stop her, she was down the hall and into the guest bedroom. Nurturing runs stronger in some women than in others, and Amy DeLuca was one of the stronger types. She was only gone a moment, so Kyle waited for her to get back. The story finished with Kyle's healing, and Amy's demand to see where he's been hurt.
Amy's motherhood hackles rose at the implied threat from K'var to Tess and the baby. She looked at Max and said, "Has this Larek shown *any* signs of paying a visit at all?"
Max shook his head. "He hasn't been around in quite a while. And Brody hasn't suffered any of the symptoms that he has in the past when Larek is getting ready for an.... abduction. No blackouts, or lost time episodes."
Amy's mouth hardened in a grim line. "Then I think that it's time for you to ask Brody's permission to 'phone home'."
Max frowned. "That could be risky...to Brody."
Amy's glare deepened. "You ask him Max, or I will."
Max sighed and nodded. "One crisis at a time. Let us get through this weekend and we'll discuss it as a group.
Jim had been largely silent on the Tess situation, choosing to let the others handle it. All he could do for her right now was worry, which accomplished nothing. Instead he stuck to those concerns that he *could* handle. He rubbed his temples. "Lincoln County she said? That's out of my jurisdiction, but once Bob Troy files a missing persons report, I'm sure that we can arrange for an anonymous tip to point in that direction. It isn't much, but it's all we dare do for the Troy's, and it's better than nothing." He sighed. "I'm still not a happy man, but I do understand the meaning of 'collateral damage' as well as the next guy." He looked at Kyle. "I'm proud of you Son; very proud."
Kyle flushed. "I was just trying to stay alive, Dad."
Jim smiled and said, with a little irony, "Some days, that's the best that a 'white hat' can hope for, Son. I learned that during my first year in law enforcement. There's an old saying the goes, 'Some days you get the bear, and some days the bear gets you.' In my line of work you're supposed to get the bear, but if the bear gets *you* that means that you've blown it, and probably let down the people that you're supposed to protect from the bear in the bargain. I think that you just faced that test tonight. And you passed with flying colors."
Kyle smiled back at his father, and for the first time in a very long time he came to the realization that it wasn't his father's involvement in his own issues that had separated them for so long. To large degree it was Kyle's *perception* of his father's issues. Tonight, here and now, he understood his father better and with a clarity that had escaped him for years. "Thanks, Dad; that means a lot. Now, I think that you and Amy had other plans for tonight?"
Amy flushed. "I don't know if....." she started to say before Kyle cut her off.
"Talking about it in front of Max and I only makes a wrong decision a sure thing," he said. "You two get lost. Isabel and Michael are both sound asleep, the girls are at Liz's by now, and Max and I can hold down the fort here. No sweat."
The two adults glanced at each other. Amy shrugged at Jim and he nodded back. It sucked when the kids grew up enough to be justified in asserting themselves. Especially in this kind of role reversal. Jim rose and offered his hand to Amy to help her to her feet. "You two stay alert," he told the boys. "There may have been more than one Skin, and the death of one will just make any others more cautious. So be careful. And I expect you to pass that advice along to the rest of the group too!"
Amy hugged the boys and gave them both a motherly kiss before following Jim out the door. They'd almost reached the truck when Jim seized Amy and spun her around, gently pinning her wrists behind her. She could have escaped him, with only modest effort, but chose not to. He was nuzzling her neck when he said, "Now, how was that sentence, that Kyle interrupted, supposed to end? Hmmm? 'You don't know if'.....what?"
"Jim!" she protested. "We're in public! What will you say to the Evans' neighbors? Most of them must know us!"
Jim continued his nuzzling assault. "Ummmm...move along, there's nothing to see here?"
"Hmmmph," she snorted. "Let's at least get this 'discussion' behind closed doors before we continue it."
Jim chuckled. "So you agree to a 'discussion'?" he asked playfully.
Amy giggled back, and entered into the play as well. "If you're really lucky, you might even get an intensive and *lengthy* 'debate' out of it," she said. "But that's all."
Jim grinned. "We'll see, some of my arguments have been known to be very....penetrating."
Amy gasped and yanked her right hand free to thump him on the chest. "Don't get cocky Mr.... I.... cocky.... I.... oh, I cannot *believe* that I just said that!"
Jim relented after stealing a kiss. He was laughing when he said, "Well, lets go. I can't wait to see where 'conversation' takes us tonight! That was *some* Freudian slip there."
Jim held the passenger door open for her and stole another kiss, this one a little more lengthy than before, then rounded to the driver's side and got in.
As they drove away, Kyle stood with his back to the inside of the Evans' front door, hyper-ventilating, after observing his dad and Amy through the door window. "In public no less. They couldn't even wait to get indoors. What a pair of horndogs!"
Max snorted from where he was sitting on the couch, channel surfing. "I told you not to watch. Parents are human too. Do you think that mine would hold back, no matter how much it might gag me to see it?" Max gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "You have to give them room... even if they're reluctant to return the courtesy when it comes to you. As I recall, you said that you and Tess could be similarly... indiscreet, and then some."
Kyle walked back into the living room and sighed disconsolately. "I know that Evans. It doesn't mean that I have to like it."
Max grinned and tossed him the remote. "I can't face homework tonight, and it's a cinch that we're out of school tomorrow. See if you can find a game for us to unwind with, and I'll hit the kitchen for some food." He smirked. "We'll see if the full blown arrival of alien powers has given you a taste for Tabasco."
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Wed Apr 20, 2005 2:48 am, edited 3 times in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Kzinti_Killer
- Administrator
- Posts: 1019
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 6:44 am
- Location: High Reaches Weyr, Northern Pern
Title: Still Yours
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17f
(The Long Way Home)
Elsewhere..........Elsewhen
**THE DREAM STATE**
Isabel was long past being worried. She was also past being puzzled. Or any of several other things. What she was now was, pissed off. She knew that she was in someone's subconscious, and she was dead certain that she knew whose it was. It 'felt' like Alex, and it *looked* like Alex, but any similarity to her previous experiences in his dreams ended right there. Fantasy she could deal with, but this was... something else entirely.
For the moment she seemed to be trapped in a phantasmagoria that resembled an oddball cross between "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", "American Hot Wax", "Heavy Metal", "Lord of the Rings", and "Alice in Wonderland". With cameos by assorted pop culture references.
It started with an Alex who thought that he was a leprechaun, and that *she* was after his 'Lucky Charms'....and he looked the part too. Then she found herself as Alice, chasing the white rabbit..... which bore a suspicious resemblance to Alex Whitman. Then she was in a gritty, dirty cityscape populated by humans....and a weird assortment of aliens. Then in an amphitheater packed with screaming people. Alex and his band were playing on stage, but she couldn't reach him or get his attention. And little wonder, Alex's band featured Mick, John, Paul, and Jim. Then she was wandering in a forest of animate talking trees, all of whom had a different opinion of which way she should go.
She was rapidly losing patience, and after the events of earlier that night... she just didn't have a lot of that left in stock to begin with.
So Isabel continued her pursuit in the place of dreams, her temper growing shorter by the minute....
The Crash Down Cafe....11:15 PM
Jeff Parker waited up for his little girl to come home. It had resumed raining lightly a little while ago, and more storms were supposed to be coming. If the lightning strobing on the horizon was any indication, they would arrive sooner, not later. They'd expected Liz home almost an hour ago, and today of all days his parenting instincts were in overdrive. He hadn't been happy about letting her out of the house. Nancy had gone to bed after Liz had called, muttering about over-protective fathers. It wasn't funny. Jeff sighed. Well, it wasn't!
When Liz had called to say that she and Maria were staying a while longer, to watch a sleeping Isabel while Max made a run out to pick up Michael at the site of his latest motorcycle breakdown, he'd been half tempted to drive over to see if she'd been telling the truth, and to pick her up, leaving Maria to handle guard duty on her own. But Nancy had seen the look in his eye and told him 'not to even think about it'. There was good parenting, then there was 'over the top', and what he'd been contemplating was definitely OTT.
Still, he couldn't escape the feeling that there were things happening that were moving beyond his control. Jeff was far from being a stupid man, he was quite perceptive in fact. He could read his daughter's body language around Max Evans, and it spoke of something far deeper than the parent in him was honestly comfortable with. The thing was, as Nancy had told him, he still wouldn't be comfortable with it when Liz was thirty and had three kids of her own. Until they had evidence that the kids were... misbehaving, they weren't going to start spying, or trying to manufacture evidence. So he should be the one to deal with *his* problem, instead of making it everybody's problem.
Jeff sighed again. Ever since Max Evans had elected to spend the night here, so that Lizzie could help his sister, Nancy seemed to have become his advocate. Whereas before she had been his sometime detractor. As she had put it, Max had 'won her over'. It wasn't that she wouldn't still watch the kids like a hawk. It was simply that, should they manage to get by her, and the worst happened, Nancy was no longer worried about her little girl being an unwed mother. Max would never allow it. Jeff just couldn't be that pragmatic. This was his baby girl that they'd been talking about!
Jeff looked out the front windows, watching the street for Maria's car. He stiffened as he saw something he didn't expect. Max's car. He was bringing the girls home himself. Jeff frowned slightly, then he turned and headed downstairs to unlock the back door. There was no sense in wasting a chance to deepen Max Evans' 'respect' for his love object.... and for his love object's father. So it happened that he was waiting out of sight in his small office, prepared to 'accidentally' walk out after taking care of some last minute business work, when the girls came in the back door chattering.
".....don't understand, my dad always locks this door," said Liz.
Maria snorted. "Chica, you need to relax. After everything that happened tonight, your dad having a lapse in memory isn't a tragedy. It comes with age."
Jeff winced. He still felt young enough that any aspersions about age caused him to feel defensive.
Liz sighed. "It isn't funny Maria, *especially* after everything that happened tonight, we have to be on guard. We nearly lost Michael and Kyle tonight. *Any* break, in *anyone's* routine, is suspicious. The thought of my dad or mom ending up like Sarah Troy must have......." her voice faded out as she and Maria padded quietly up the stairs.
Jeff emerged from the break room to stare up the stairs after them. That conversation had made no sense at all. Though, these days, that was no surprise. His daughter and her friends were teenagers after all. Most of the time what they said made about as much sense to him as swahili. But still, that remark about "almost losing" Kyle and Michael gave him pause when it came as a preface of some vague possibility of a threat to Nancy or himself. He paused in thought. The only Sarah Troy that he knew of was Bob Troy's wife. Normally a petite, inoffensive, mousy type, who lately had been giving him the creeps. There was no concrete reason for it, it was simply that, whenever the Troys were in the cafe, his hand itched to stay in contact with the sawed off ball bat that he kept under the counter. The one that Nancy and Liz had hated so much when he'd had it made.
His mother had always had a 'feel' for people, as did his Lizzie. Claudia had always claimed that it was the family's Amerind background breeding true. Given enough exposure to someone they could usually sort the bad ones from the good ones, with something like one hundred percent reliability. He wasn't one to believe that Native American mysticism, or any other sort of hocus pocus, was genetically transmittable. Instead he simply wrote it off to good old feminine intuition backed by caution and common sense. Two qualities that he often felt like Lizzie had less of... since Max Evans. And which he thought that he had in abundance. Hopefully enough to counterbalance any failings on the part of his daughter. Regrettably, his own lack of faith in the nature of his ability limited his skill at using it correctly. Hence for all his caution, he got it wrong more often than he got it right. But, even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Therefore the same Lakota medicine man, that Claudia claimed they could trace their many times diluted family lineage to, would have recognized what Jeff felt from Sarah Troy, and taken appropriate measures, measures which were already old and steeped in tradition and legend when the medicine man passed his favorite dream catcher onto a white co-practitioner, as a gift. Measures to counter evil.
Jeff knew none of this, and would have believed little of it, even if he had known. For the moment he was suspicious, but that was all. Whether or not he remained that way would depend on what the future brought. He waited a few minutes, then noisily clomped up the stairs to the apartment. Entering he followed the trail of soft music to his daughter's bedroom. He could hear the shower running. He knocked quietly on the door frame causing his daughter to look up from where she sat on the bed...... reading a school book he noted with satisfaction and approval.
"Hi Dad," Liz said. "I thought that both you and mom had gone to bed by now."
Jeff shook his head. "Your mother went to bed right after you called, but I had some minor chores that I wanted to get done downstairs. When I heard you come in, I called it a night."
Liz gave him a knowing look. "You mean that you waited up for me..... right?"
He shrugged as if to say..."Well, duh?"
She shook her head. "Daddy, I'm not a little girl anymore."
Jeff remained expressionless, but inside he cringed a bit. *His* daughter had just used the 'little girl' buzzword. 'Daddy'. If she only knew... she'd always be his little girl. "Guilty as charged. The weather was nasty out earlier, and there's supposed to be a chance that it will get nasty again."
The shower stopped running, and they could both here Maria DeLuca's voice softly singing bits and pieces of a pop tune.
Liz grinned. "You sound like Max now."
Jeff blinked, not sure what to make of the comparison. He was aware of how protective Max Evans was of his daughter, and he counted that as a mark in Max's favor, even as he felt uncomfortable about the emotions behind that protectiveness. "How so, honey? I was surprised...." ("As well as disappointed," he thought) ".... that he didn't walk you in."
Liz's grin broadened. "He had enough to do at home, so he gave me a kiss and the keys to his car, and sent me home. He insisted that it was safer than 'that death trap that Maria drives'."
Before either could respond a listening Maria spoke from the bathroom. "My car is *not* a death trap It's just well broken in!"
Both father and daughter shared a looked and chuckled softly.
Jeff walked over to the bed and bestowed a kiss on his daughter's cheek. "I assume that you're waiting on Maria to take your own shower?" he asked. When she nodded he went on, "Well then, I'll get out of here and leave you alone." He turned to the bathroom door where his 'other daughter' was no doubt waiting for him to leave. "Goodnight Maria, I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight Mr. Parker," came the response.
Jeff closed Liz's bedroom door behind himself, and smiled as he heard the lock click. He was walking away down the hall to his bed and his sleeping wife when girlish laughter sounded behind him, sounding much like the giggles that that he'd heard from that room many times over the years. Part of him reveled in it, as in music. Another part grieved somewhat for the little time that he had remaining in which he could enjoy that music.
Entering their bedroom he undressed and hung up his clothes in the dark, to avoid waking Nancy. He should have known better. As he slid cautiously into their bed she stirred and spoke softly.
"Did Liz get home okay?"
Jeff grunted an affirmative as settled down next to his wife. "Yup, she and Maria came in a while ago."
Nancy knew exactly why Jeff had stayed up. She slid slightly backwards, spooning up with her husband. "So, did you get to see Max?"
Jeff sighed, there was no fooling her. "Nope, he gave Liz his car and sent her home. He apparently didn't like her riding in Maria's car in this weather either."
Nancy snickered softly. "Tell me dear, how long were we dating before you let *me* drive your car, with or without you riding shotgun?"
Jeff tried to duck the issue. "Er.... I don't remember?" he responded hopefully.
Nancy's snicker was back. "I do, to the day. When a teenage boy lets his girl have his car, it must be love."
Jeff didn't answer. He was too tired, and at the moment Nancy's warmth was lulling him into sleep. But that disquieting thought still chased itself around his head. "It must be love?" he thought. "Yes sweetheart, I know. That's what I'm afraid of."
More immediate concerns drove the memory of what he'd overheard Liz and Maria discussing from his head or, at least, into the back of his mind, where it wouldn't emerge without the proper stimulus. In this case, that would be Bob Troy's missing persons report on Sarah becoming common knowledge, followed by a Lincoln county rancher's grisly discovery a month later. What the fallout of those events would be was yet to be determined by fate. But remember Jeff would....
Elsewhere..........Elsewhen
**DREAM STATE**
Enough was enough. Isabel skidded to a halt and let the white rabbit escape again. This was her third time through the "Alice in Wonderland" scenario, and she wasn't in the mood to play any more. For one thing, a blue pinafore, braids, and white knee socks were *not* her idea of style. For another she had yet to get Alex to slow down long enough to even talk to her. She was through playing Elmer Fud to his Bugs Bunny.
Mohammed was done chasing the mountain, from now on the mountain would come to Mohammed. All that was required was the proper setting and attire. Was she or was she not the one with the powers here? Was she the dream walker here, or not? Normally she didn't interfere in a dream, other than a subtle nudge, but her patience was shot. She looked around at the beautiful sylvan setting. Not bad, not bad at all, but it needs is a few additions. Her eyes narrowed as the focused on a nearby open glade in the woods. A large open air pavilion appeared, with deep carpeting, and an exceedingly comfortable looking and unrealistically large bed. Just in case he wasn't in the mood right away, a substantial buffet appeared. Everything from Chinese to pizza with the works, along with every soft drink she's ever seen him drink. Isabel giggled as she looked around at her handiwork. This was the first time that she'd ever gone for broke like this. It was fun!
"Now for the finishing touch," she thought. A large wardrobe mirror appeared. She walked over to it and frowned at the 'Alice' getup that she still had on. This would never do. With a toss of her head the clothes vanished, leaving her in bra and panties. Looking at them she decided they were too... everyday. So, with another toss, they were gone as well, leaving her with a blank canvas.... so to speak. "Hmmmm, red. It has to be red. She held out her hand and a red translucent thong appeared. She looked it over for a moment, decided that it would do, stepped into it, and pulled it up. Normally she didn't wear thongs, so for a moment she was uncomfortable, but she got used to it rapidly. Surveying the effect she pursed her lips. "Too obvious. I want to catch his interest, not stun him into immobility." She cocked her head and a moment later she wearing a red teddy. A *short* red teddy. It was girlish, while still letting a lot of girl show through. She turned slowly in front of the mirror and blushed faintly. She had some pretty lingerie, but nothing that quite so pointedly screamed 'come and get it'. She blushed again. "Once Alex gets home, I *have* to go shopping." She paused. "Correction..... Liz, Maria, and I have to go shopping." She studied the ensemble. "It still needs something." She bit her lip. "I know just the thing." It only took a moment's effort to add a garter belt, sheer stockings, and some tall heels, all in matching red, to her costume.
She nodded to herself. This would do nicely. Glancing at the bed she turned the sheets black for contrast. She lay down and stretched languorously. The trap was set and the 'bait' was artfully presented. Now all she had to do was wait. That damned rabbit would be by here again, sooner or later! Now she needed something to kill time. She rolled over to find a copy of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" lying beside her. She smirked. "Whose subconscious is this anyway?" she muttered as she settled down to pass the time reading.
An unmeasured time later she was startled awake by a hand on her. Rolling over fast she saw Alex draw back, looking at her uncertainly. Several things registered with her. One was.... she had fallen asleep in the dream, yet she had stayed connected. She wouldn't have believed that was possible. The other was that Alex had lost the bunny suit, which was a big improvement. And finally she remembered her attire. Reclining on her left side she propped up her head with her hand and cocked her right leg a bit.... drawing up her knee, 'centerfold' style. "Can I *do* something for you, Alex?" she asked, turning the flirt vibes on full blast.
Alex remained silent.
Isabel frowned. She'd expected any of several reactions, but not silence. It was definitely him, their connection told her that much, but beyond that the feelings that she was getting off of him were confused. Shy one minute, playful the next, amused a moment later, and lustful the moment after that. "Alex?"
Silence.
"Alex, say something, say anything!"
Alex's poker face suddenly broke as he started laughing... hard. He collapsed on the bed giggling hysterically.
Isabel sat up sharply, this wasn't just weird... this was Twilight Zone behavior. "Alexander Charles Whitman! Just what the hell is going on?!"
Alex was laughing harder now, and Isabel was starting to get angry again. Furious she whacked him in the chest. He sat up and scooted away, grasping the injured area. "Ow! Ishy, do'n be like tha'!"
Isabel blinked. "What did you say?"
Alex leaned forward blinking a little owlishly and smiled. "Ish, yur shure pretty whe' yur mad! Yu kno' that'? Then he slipped sideways, sprawled out, and began to sing.... in a moderately loud voice.
She stared at him. "You're drunk!"
Alex broke off singing to respond with, "Am not."
Isabel growled. "Oh yes you are!"
"No' either," he fired back, then collapsed in giggles again, before resuming his song. Softer now, he was singing 'When A Man Loves A Woman'.
Isabel was seriously pissed now, though not at Alex. "I can't believe this!" she thought. "They have to know that I get into his dreams, and they get him drunk before putting him to bed? Oh my, someone is going to pay for this." Suddenly she realized two things, there was a gray mist closing in like the one that had shut her out of Alex's dream before, the other was that Alex had fallen silent. She looked down aghast; he was out cold from the looks of it. She looked up at the closing mist and thought about everything that they'd been through since she'd first found him again. Oh no, this was *NOT* happening again!
She raised an imperious finger towards the gathering mist. "FREEZE!" The fog halted and stirred uncertainly, roiling back on itself, as if in sentient fear. "I don't care whose dreamscape this is. Alex's, mine, or someplace else entirely! It doesn't shut down without my say so... YOU GOT THAT!?" she shouted at the surrounding air. The wall of fog began to retreat, slowly. She slid off the bed, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Scram! Beat it! GET LOST! I'm spending the night with my guy and that's all there is too it!" The fog began retreating faster as she advanced, as if racing to get away. As she watched, the last traces vanished into the surrounding trees. "And STAY GONE!" she shouted after it.
She turned back to the bed where a now snoring Alex lay tangled in the sheets. She sighed and started towards him, only to realize that she was still wearing high heels. Shaking her head she kicked them off and walked over to the mirror. A wave of her hand disposed of her outfit and replaced it with her red pajamas. Bare foot she moved over to the bed and stared down at the sleeping young man. Giving another deep sigh she began tugging at his clothes, managing to strip him to his boxers. "I don't know if this matters in a dream or not Sweetheart, but I wouldn't feel right letting you sleep in your clothes, dreaming or not." She managed to worry the covers out from under him and pull them up over him as she slid in beside him letting her back and bottom settle against his front. Alex responded as she'd hoped he would, and slid his arm around her with a happy sigh, to pull her in closer.
Isabel waved her hand again and the daylight began to fade rapidly to soft twilight, and finally to darkness. The crickets began to chirp their night music. Isabel was tired now as well. She had no idea whether or not the mist would stay away, and she didn't care. She was falling asleep in Alex's arms. One day soon she'd be able to do that whenever she wanted, for real. She settled back against him, and used her own arm to lock his encircling arm against her. Her last drowsy thought was...."Max would freak if he knew."
Eventually the dream dissolved softly away, but not immediately, and certainly not through the offices of the wary mist, which knew better than to cross Isabel Evans. Instead, both lovers slept 'together' in their connection in a sort of intimacy that only four other people had so far known.
Little 'dreaming' of what their next meeting in dreamland would bring.
End of Part 17
Author: KK
Disclaimer: The characters that count in this do not belong to me in any way shape or form. I simply borrowed them from someone else's toy box.
Category: Crossover Roswell/Highlander A/I +CC
Rating: MATURE shifting to ADULT later on.
STILL YOURS - Part 17f
(The Long Way Home)
Elsewhere..........Elsewhen
**THE DREAM STATE**
Isabel was long past being worried. She was also past being puzzled. Or any of several other things. What she was now was, pissed off. She knew that she was in someone's subconscious, and she was dead certain that she knew whose it was. It 'felt' like Alex, and it *looked* like Alex, but any similarity to her previous experiences in his dreams ended right there. Fantasy she could deal with, but this was... something else entirely.
For the moment she seemed to be trapped in a phantasmagoria that resembled an oddball cross between "Who Framed Roger Rabbit", "American Hot Wax", "Heavy Metal", "Lord of the Rings", and "Alice in Wonderland". With cameos by assorted pop culture references.
It started with an Alex who thought that he was a leprechaun, and that *she* was after his 'Lucky Charms'....and he looked the part too. Then she found herself as Alice, chasing the white rabbit..... which bore a suspicious resemblance to Alex Whitman. Then she was in a gritty, dirty cityscape populated by humans....and a weird assortment of aliens. Then in an amphitheater packed with screaming people. Alex and his band were playing on stage, but she couldn't reach him or get his attention. And little wonder, Alex's band featured Mick, John, Paul, and Jim. Then she was wandering in a forest of animate talking trees, all of whom had a different opinion of which way she should go.
She was rapidly losing patience, and after the events of earlier that night... she just didn't have a lot of that left in stock to begin with.
So Isabel continued her pursuit in the place of dreams, her temper growing shorter by the minute....
The Crash Down Cafe....11:15 PM
Jeff Parker waited up for his little girl to come home. It had resumed raining lightly a little while ago, and more storms were supposed to be coming. If the lightning strobing on the horizon was any indication, they would arrive sooner, not later. They'd expected Liz home almost an hour ago, and today of all days his parenting instincts were in overdrive. He hadn't been happy about letting her out of the house. Nancy had gone to bed after Liz had called, muttering about over-protective fathers. It wasn't funny. Jeff sighed. Well, it wasn't!
When Liz had called to say that she and Maria were staying a while longer, to watch a sleeping Isabel while Max made a run out to pick up Michael at the site of his latest motorcycle breakdown, he'd been half tempted to drive over to see if she'd been telling the truth, and to pick her up, leaving Maria to handle guard duty on her own. But Nancy had seen the look in his eye and told him 'not to even think about it'. There was good parenting, then there was 'over the top', and what he'd been contemplating was definitely OTT.
Still, he couldn't escape the feeling that there were things happening that were moving beyond his control. Jeff was far from being a stupid man, he was quite perceptive in fact. He could read his daughter's body language around Max Evans, and it spoke of something far deeper than the parent in him was honestly comfortable with. The thing was, as Nancy had told him, he still wouldn't be comfortable with it when Liz was thirty and had three kids of her own. Until they had evidence that the kids were... misbehaving, they weren't going to start spying, or trying to manufacture evidence. So he should be the one to deal with *his* problem, instead of making it everybody's problem.
Jeff sighed again. Ever since Max Evans had elected to spend the night here, so that Lizzie could help his sister, Nancy seemed to have become his advocate. Whereas before she had been his sometime detractor. As she had put it, Max had 'won her over'. It wasn't that she wouldn't still watch the kids like a hawk. It was simply that, should they manage to get by her, and the worst happened, Nancy was no longer worried about her little girl being an unwed mother. Max would never allow it. Jeff just couldn't be that pragmatic. This was his baby girl that they'd been talking about!
Jeff looked out the front windows, watching the street for Maria's car. He stiffened as he saw something he didn't expect. Max's car. He was bringing the girls home himself. Jeff frowned slightly, then he turned and headed downstairs to unlock the back door. There was no sense in wasting a chance to deepen Max Evans' 'respect' for his love object.... and for his love object's father. So it happened that he was waiting out of sight in his small office, prepared to 'accidentally' walk out after taking care of some last minute business work, when the girls came in the back door chattering.
".....don't understand, my dad always locks this door," said Liz.
Maria snorted. "Chica, you need to relax. After everything that happened tonight, your dad having a lapse in memory isn't a tragedy. It comes with age."
Jeff winced. He still felt young enough that any aspersions about age caused him to feel defensive.
Liz sighed. "It isn't funny Maria, *especially* after everything that happened tonight, we have to be on guard. We nearly lost Michael and Kyle tonight. *Any* break, in *anyone's* routine, is suspicious. The thought of my dad or mom ending up like Sarah Troy must have......." her voice faded out as she and Maria padded quietly up the stairs.
Jeff emerged from the break room to stare up the stairs after them. That conversation had made no sense at all. Though, these days, that was no surprise. His daughter and her friends were teenagers after all. Most of the time what they said made about as much sense to him as swahili. But still, that remark about "almost losing" Kyle and Michael gave him pause when it came as a preface of some vague possibility of a threat to Nancy or himself. He paused in thought. The only Sarah Troy that he knew of was Bob Troy's wife. Normally a petite, inoffensive, mousy type, who lately had been giving him the creeps. There was no concrete reason for it, it was simply that, whenever the Troys were in the cafe, his hand itched to stay in contact with the sawed off ball bat that he kept under the counter. The one that Nancy and Liz had hated so much when he'd had it made.
His mother had always had a 'feel' for people, as did his Lizzie. Claudia had always claimed that it was the family's Amerind background breeding true. Given enough exposure to someone they could usually sort the bad ones from the good ones, with something like one hundred percent reliability. He wasn't one to believe that Native American mysticism, or any other sort of hocus pocus, was genetically transmittable. Instead he simply wrote it off to good old feminine intuition backed by caution and common sense. Two qualities that he often felt like Lizzie had less of... since Max Evans. And which he thought that he had in abundance. Hopefully enough to counterbalance any failings on the part of his daughter. Regrettably, his own lack of faith in the nature of his ability limited his skill at using it correctly. Hence for all his caution, he got it wrong more often than he got it right. But, even a broken clock is right twice a day.
Therefore the same Lakota medicine man, that Claudia claimed they could trace their many times diluted family lineage to, would have recognized what Jeff felt from Sarah Troy, and taken appropriate measures, measures which were already old and steeped in tradition and legend when the medicine man passed his favorite dream catcher onto a white co-practitioner, as a gift. Measures to counter evil.
Jeff knew none of this, and would have believed little of it, even if he had known. For the moment he was suspicious, but that was all. Whether or not he remained that way would depend on what the future brought. He waited a few minutes, then noisily clomped up the stairs to the apartment. Entering he followed the trail of soft music to his daughter's bedroom. He could hear the shower running. He knocked quietly on the door frame causing his daughter to look up from where she sat on the bed...... reading a school book he noted with satisfaction and approval.
"Hi Dad," Liz said. "I thought that both you and mom had gone to bed by now."
Jeff shook his head. "Your mother went to bed right after you called, but I had some minor chores that I wanted to get done downstairs. When I heard you come in, I called it a night."
Liz gave him a knowing look. "You mean that you waited up for me..... right?"
He shrugged as if to say..."Well, duh?"
She shook her head. "Daddy, I'm not a little girl anymore."
Jeff remained expressionless, but inside he cringed a bit. *His* daughter had just used the 'little girl' buzzword. 'Daddy'. If she only knew... she'd always be his little girl. "Guilty as charged. The weather was nasty out earlier, and there's supposed to be a chance that it will get nasty again."
The shower stopped running, and they could both here Maria DeLuca's voice softly singing bits and pieces of a pop tune.
Liz grinned. "You sound like Max now."
Jeff blinked, not sure what to make of the comparison. He was aware of how protective Max Evans was of his daughter, and he counted that as a mark in Max's favor, even as he felt uncomfortable about the emotions behind that protectiveness. "How so, honey? I was surprised...." ("As well as disappointed," he thought) ".... that he didn't walk you in."
Liz's grin broadened. "He had enough to do at home, so he gave me a kiss and the keys to his car, and sent me home. He insisted that it was safer than 'that death trap that Maria drives'."
Before either could respond a listening Maria spoke from the bathroom. "My car is *not* a death trap It's just well broken in!"
Both father and daughter shared a looked and chuckled softly.
Jeff walked over to the bed and bestowed a kiss on his daughter's cheek. "I assume that you're waiting on Maria to take your own shower?" he asked. When she nodded he went on, "Well then, I'll get out of here and leave you alone." He turned to the bathroom door where his 'other daughter' was no doubt waiting for him to leave. "Goodnight Maria, I'll see you in the morning."
"Goodnight Mr. Parker," came the response.
Jeff closed Liz's bedroom door behind himself, and smiled as he heard the lock click. He was walking away down the hall to his bed and his sleeping wife when girlish laughter sounded behind him, sounding much like the giggles that that he'd heard from that room many times over the years. Part of him reveled in it, as in music. Another part grieved somewhat for the little time that he had remaining in which he could enjoy that music.
Entering their bedroom he undressed and hung up his clothes in the dark, to avoid waking Nancy. He should have known better. As he slid cautiously into their bed she stirred and spoke softly.
"Did Liz get home okay?"
Jeff grunted an affirmative as settled down next to his wife. "Yup, she and Maria came in a while ago."
Nancy knew exactly why Jeff had stayed up. She slid slightly backwards, spooning up with her husband. "So, did you get to see Max?"
Jeff sighed, there was no fooling her. "Nope, he gave Liz his car and sent her home. He apparently didn't like her riding in Maria's car in this weather either."
Nancy snickered softly. "Tell me dear, how long were we dating before you let *me* drive your car, with or without you riding shotgun?"
Jeff tried to duck the issue. "Er.... I don't remember?" he responded hopefully.
Nancy's snicker was back. "I do, to the day. When a teenage boy lets his girl have his car, it must be love."
Jeff didn't answer. He was too tired, and at the moment Nancy's warmth was lulling him into sleep. But that disquieting thought still chased itself around his head. "It must be love?" he thought. "Yes sweetheart, I know. That's what I'm afraid of."
More immediate concerns drove the memory of what he'd overheard Liz and Maria discussing from his head or, at least, into the back of his mind, where it wouldn't emerge without the proper stimulus. In this case, that would be Bob Troy's missing persons report on Sarah becoming common knowledge, followed by a Lincoln county rancher's grisly discovery a month later. What the fallout of those events would be was yet to be determined by fate. But remember Jeff would....
Elsewhere..........Elsewhen
**DREAM STATE**
Enough was enough. Isabel skidded to a halt and let the white rabbit escape again. This was her third time through the "Alice in Wonderland" scenario, and she wasn't in the mood to play any more. For one thing, a blue pinafore, braids, and white knee socks were *not* her idea of style. For another she had yet to get Alex to slow down long enough to even talk to her. She was through playing Elmer Fud to his Bugs Bunny.
Mohammed was done chasing the mountain, from now on the mountain would come to Mohammed. All that was required was the proper setting and attire. Was she or was she not the one with the powers here? Was she the dream walker here, or not? Normally she didn't interfere in a dream, other than a subtle nudge, but her patience was shot. She looked around at the beautiful sylvan setting. Not bad, not bad at all, but it needs is a few additions. Her eyes narrowed as the focused on a nearby open glade in the woods. A large open air pavilion appeared, with deep carpeting, and an exceedingly comfortable looking and unrealistically large bed. Just in case he wasn't in the mood right away, a substantial buffet appeared. Everything from Chinese to pizza with the works, along with every soft drink she's ever seen him drink. Isabel giggled as she looked around at her handiwork. This was the first time that she'd ever gone for broke like this. It was fun!
"Now for the finishing touch," she thought. A large wardrobe mirror appeared. She walked over to it and frowned at the 'Alice' getup that she still had on. This would never do. With a toss of her head the clothes vanished, leaving her in bra and panties. Looking at them she decided they were too... everyday. So, with another toss, they were gone as well, leaving her with a blank canvas.... so to speak. "Hmmmm, red. It has to be red. She held out her hand and a red translucent thong appeared. She looked it over for a moment, decided that it would do, stepped into it, and pulled it up. Normally she didn't wear thongs, so for a moment she was uncomfortable, but she got used to it rapidly. Surveying the effect she pursed her lips. "Too obvious. I want to catch his interest, not stun him into immobility." She cocked her head and a moment later she wearing a red teddy. A *short* red teddy. It was girlish, while still letting a lot of girl show through. She turned slowly in front of the mirror and blushed faintly. She had some pretty lingerie, but nothing that quite so pointedly screamed 'come and get it'. She blushed again. "Once Alex gets home, I *have* to go shopping." She paused. "Correction..... Liz, Maria, and I have to go shopping." She studied the ensemble. "It still needs something." She bit her lip. "I know just the thing." It only took a moment's effort to add a garter belt, sheer stockings, and some tall heels, all in matching red, to her costume.
She nodded to herself. This would do nicely. Glancing at the bed she turned the sheets black for contrast. She lay down and stretched languorously. The trap was set and the 'bait' was artfully presented. Now all she had to do was wait. That damned rabbit would be by here again, sooner or later! Now she needed something to kill time. She rolled over to find a copy of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" lying beside her. She smirked. "Whose subconscious is this anyway?" she muttered as she settled down to pass the time reading.
An unmeasured time later she was startled awake by a hand on her. Rolling over fast she saw Alex draw back, looking at her uncertainly. Several things registered with her. One was.... she had fallen asleep in the dream, yet she had stayed connected. She wouldn't have believed that was possible. The other was that Alex had lost the bunny suit, which was a big improvement. And finally she remembered her attire. Reclining on her left side she propped up her head with her hand and cocked her right leg a bit.... drawing up her knee, 'centerfold' style. "Can I *do* something for you, Alex?" she asked, turning the flirt vibes on full blast.
Alex remained silent.
Isabel frowned. She'd expected any of several reactions, but not silence. It was definitely him, their connection told her that much, but beyond that the feelings that she was getting off of him were confused. Shy one minute, playful the next, amused a moment later, and lustful the moment after that. "Alex?"
Silence.
"Alex, say something, say anything!"
Alex's poker face suddenly broke as he started laughing... hard. He collapsed on the bed giggling hysterically.
Isabel sat up sharply, this wasn't just weird... this was Twilight Zone behavior. "Alexander Charles Whitman! Just what the hell is going on?!"
Alex was laughing harder now, and Isabel was starting to get angry again. Furious she whacked him in the chest. He sat up and scooted away, grasping the injured area. "Ow! Ishy, do'n be like tha'!"
Isabel blinked. "What did you say?"
Alex leaned forward blinking a little owlishly and smiled. "Ish, yur shure pretty whe' yur mad! Yu kno' that'? Then he slipped sideways, sprawled out, and began to sing.... in a moderately loud voice.
She stared at him. "You're drunk!"
Alex broke off singing to respond with, "Am not."
Isabel growled. "Oh yes you are!"
"No' either," he fired back, then collapsed in giggles again, before resuming his song. Softer now, he was singing 'When A Man Loves A Woman'.
Isabel was seriously pissed now, though not at Alex. "I can't believe this!" she thought. "They have to know that I get into his dreams, and they get him drunk before putting him to bed? Oh my, someone is going to pay for this." Suddenly she realized two things, there was a gray mist closing in like the one that had shut her out of Alex's dream before, the other was that Alex had fallen silent. She looked down aghast; he was out cold from the looks of it. She looked up at the closing mist and thought about everything that they'd been through since she'd first found him again. Oh no, this was *NOT* happening again!
She raised an imperious finger towards the gathering mist. "FREEZE!" The fog halted and stirred uncertainly, roiling back on itself, as if in sentient fear. "I don't care whose dreamscape this is. Alex's, mine, or someplace else entirely! It doesn't shut down without my say so... YOU GOT THAT!?" she shouted at the surrounding air. The wall of fog began to retreat, slowly. She slid off the bed, her eyes glittering dangerously. "Scram! Beat it! GET LOST! I'm spending the night with my guy and that's all there is too it!" The fog began retreating faster as she advanced, as if racing to get away. As she watched, the last traces vanished into the surrounding trees. "And STAY GONE!" she shouted after it.
She turned back to the bed where a now snoring Alex lay tangled in the sheets. She sighed and started towards him, only to realize that she was still wearing high heels. Shaking her head she kicked them off and walked over to the mirror. A wave of her hand disposed of her outfit and replaced it with her red pajamas. Bare foot she moved over to the bed and stared down at the sleeping young man. Giving another deep sigh she began tugging at his clothes, managing to strip him to his boxers. "I don't know if this matters in a dream or not Sweetheart, but I wouldn't feel right letting you sleep in your clothes, dreaming or not." She managed to worry the covers out from under him and pull them up over him as she slid in beside him letting her back and bottom settle against his front. Alex responded as she'd hoped he would, and slid his arm around her with a happy sigh, to pull her in closer.
Isabel waved her hand again and the daylight began to fade rapidly to soft twilight, and finally to darkness. The crickets began to chirp their night music. Isabel was tired now as well. She had no idea whether or not the mist would stay away, and she didn't care. She was falling asleep in Alex's arms. One day soon she'd be able to do that whenever she wanted, for real. She settled back against him, and used her own arm to lock his encircling arm against her. Her last drowsy thought was...."Max would freak if he knew."
Eventually the dream dissolved softly away, but not immediately, and certainly not through the offices of the wary mist, which knew better than to cross Isabel Evans. Instead, both lovers slept 'together' in their connection in a sort of intimacy that only four other people had so far known.
Little 'dreaming' of what their next meeting in dreamland would bring.
End of Part 17
Last edited by Kzinti_Killer on Wed Apr 20, 2005 3:14 am, edited 1 time in total.
Dragons, Ogres, & Pretty Boy Lawyers Slain, Reasonable Rates, Call After 5:00 At 1-900-OhMyGodWhatWereTheyThinkingOf
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
-- Henry Jenkins
-
Katcin Lee
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 2
- Joined: Thu May 15, 2003 10:04 pm
- Location: Trying to avoid the Here and Now
K_K,
I'm sorry, but I just have to share. I was going through and copying all the story posts to a word processing program in order to print them out, and I just realized something. Since we've moved over to the new board, we've had one new chapter in 37 pages! LOL, never say that you're not popular!
I hope the tooth thing is going well. I'm feeling close to desperate for Ch. 18. Humph. Patience is highly over-rated.
Katcin Lee
Edited Later to add on:
<sigh> I love this story. I just reread the whole thing, since I’m trying to format it in order to print out. I jotted down some notes – well, okay, a lot of notes – on things that came to mind as I was reading. Questions, speculations, theories, and so forth. Do you mind?
Anybody else want to join in, feel free.
Thoughts on Still Yours:
1) Did Liz and Max from EoTW future ever have the connection? Were they able to fuse? Is the alien invasion still coming? Do they still need Tess to survive? (I’d really like to see something about a ‘double four-square’ here – it fits my sense of symmetry)
2.) I’ve probably said this before, but I love the fact that Brody and Amy are part of the “I know An Alien” club. Especially Brody. His sense of humor about everything is hilarious!
3.) About Brody and Amy – I got the impression that mindwarping itself isn’t that dangerous really – that Nicholas purposefully made it so that Alex and Kyle’s minds would degrade along with the warps. Is it possible that Tess purposefully made her warps degradeable as a hint that something wasn’t right? She was so limited in what she could do to warn her friends...
4.) I don’t have words to express how much I love the “intervention” that Isabel stages with the crew and Liz. It’s like exactly what Roswell was (or should have been, at least) about. The “family feeling” as I think someone here said earlier. Happiness abounds.
5.) Quote from chapter 5 – "Youth sucks," Alex thought. "Especially when you're a youth from both the mortal *and * the Immortal point of view." – Hey, have we had any discussions yet on the fact that besides never dying, Immortals also don’t age? Alex is going to spend the rest of his whatever life looking like he’s 17. I don’t think Alex is going to like spending his whole life getting carded at bars. <grimace> And I really don’t think Isabel will like the fact that she’s going to eventually be seen as a cradle robber. I wonder, could the aliens do some molecular manipulation to increase the age of his cells? Hmmm....
6.) I hope that in the sequels you have planned (and you’d better be serious about them!) that Diane and Phillip Evans will eventually find out the truth about their kids. I really like the part in Chapter Six where they muse on the ‘family’ that the kids developed. I think they’d be incredibly supportive of whatever the kids needed. And think what relief that would give to Max and Isabel!
7.) I’m excited to see what happens when the two composites (M/M and M/L) ‘wake up’ at the same time. Do you think they can communicate together? And what are their abilities? It looks like the composites have the alien’s power ramped up (e.g. Hector being able to force a healing connection on Kyle.) Just think what kinda stuff the candy composite will be able to blow up! LOL. I really, really, REALLY hope that we’re gonna see some of that during the upcoming immortal battle!
8.) Considering how the quickening affected Isabel when she and Alex were seperated, I wonder what would happen if they were in a Fusion? Actually, can the component parts of a fusion move on their own? That teaser you gave us – the one with swordfighters and the guy with completely black eyes – that sounds like they can. And, if the composite experiences a Quickening, how would it affect any composites around it? And is it possible to have a composite with more than two people? I mean, is that what the “Four Square” idea is all about? Mmmm, speculation, speculation...
9.) It will be interesting to see which of the adults will be coming along to Seattle. I can see a major argument between Amy and Maria coming up...
AMY: There’s no way I’m letting my daughter go diving straight into a war!
MARIA: Mom, I’m not letting Michael go alone.
AMY: Then I go with you.
MARIA: You don’t have any way of protecting yourself!
AMY: Neither do you!
MARIA: Um, well, actually...
It’s not going to be pretty, is it? <laugh>
10.) Quote from Chapter 17: “As Max made the turn onto his street he made a silent vow. After he and Liz were married, no more than one crisis a month and after their first baby, no more than one a year.” Oh Max, you hopeless optomist you... <laugh>
11.) Man, Kyle is getting a lot of experience with evil aliens, isn’t he? First Nicholas, now Sarah – Like Hector said, he really needs to watch that habit. <evil grin>
12.) Hey, I just realized something. How did the skin know that Michael and Maria have a telepathic communication? Is it something that happens a lot on their planet or were the skins somehow able to detect the communication happening. Is there any way they can listen in? And how much could the blocker block? I mean, like Liz said, Maria knew that Michael was still alive. So there was still some connection really deep down – I wonder if she could use that to find him, even if he was in, for example, a cell that blocked telepathic communication? Such interesting implications...
13.) Okay, Ava is being kept alive, among other reasons, to shame her family. So, does she have any support out there? Her family must be xenophobic if her pregnancy is shaming, but they must also be pretty powerful if K’var needs to ‘shame’ them. Man, I wish we knew what the situation on Antar was exactly.
14.) I love Amy getting all motherly about Tess. She finally got the Dad she deserved in Jim, it’s nice to see that she’ll be getting a mother in Amy. Actually, I guess Amy has kinda become the mother figure of all of them. Have I mentioned I love the ‘family’ dynamic here?
15.) Oh hey, somebody else might already have mentioned this, but is the Lakota Shaman that the Parkers related to the same one that Cass trained with? And if so, I wonder if Liz has inheireted some of his skills. Maybe Liz could be one of those humans that Cass mentioned that can learn to do what Isabel does... or more even?
I am getting so excited to see the Pod Squad and the Immortals team up. Personally, I think the Pod Squad will be able to handle themselves quite well against sword-swingers, no matter how durable. It’s the interpersonal stuff I’m curious about... I think the pod squad could learn a lot having the immortals as mentors. I mean, if they are going to eventually go up against K’var and his cronies (and I think they’ll have to if they ever want to be able to relax) they need a lot more skills than just being able to use their powers. They need to be able to plan, strategize, effectively lead people, infiltrate places, survive in hostile environments – basically, become warriors themselves. And who better than Duncan, Methos, Amanda, and Cass to teach them? Between the four of them, they probably have the skills needed to rule the world. (Not that they’d want to, you understand...)
I think I’d like to see... Methos working with Michael and Alex. Focusing on tactics, strategy, and how to be underhanded sneaky bastards. Amanda could team up with Maria...<giggle> Heaven save the world! I think Cass would work well with Liz and Isabel (well, once she and Isabel have, ahem, ‘talked’ out their differences.) In the area of mind-powers. And Duncan could do the warrior and Leader thing with Max and Kyle. Leader stuff for Max and warrior stuff for Kyle (if he’s going to be running into all these enemy aliens, he at least ought to be ready for them. And, if you think about it, when enemies are used to using powers to attack and defend, they’d probably be vulnerable to a physical attack.)
What I really want to see is a scene where maybe the fight is underway, when all of a sudden the doors (which are shut for some reason) are blown open and three girls appear in the doorway. The bad guys grin and think, no sweat, just some babes and start moving closer. The girls see Alex and as one start running towards him and suddenly the bad guys are flying back like bowling pins as Maria, Liz, and Isabel, disregarding the flying bad men completely, run and through their arms around their wayward friend. <sigh> Of course, it’s complete and utter wish fulfillment. Isn’t that the point?
Still Waiting anxiously
Katcin Lee
p.s. I know this is an incredibly long post. Sorry people! Blame K_K for being so darn thought-provoking!
I'm sorry, but I just have to share. I was going through and copying all the story posts to a word processing program in order to print them out, and I just realized something. Since we've moved over to the new board, we've had one new chapter in 37 pages! LOL, never say that you're not popular!
I hope the tooth thing is going well. I'm feeling close to desperate for Ch. 18. Humph. Patience is highly over-rated.
Katcin Lee
Edited Later to add on:
<sigh> I love this story. I just reread the whole thing, since I’m trying to format it in order to print out. I jotted down some notes – well, okay, a lot of notes – on things that came to mind as I was reading. Questions, speculations, theories, and so forth. Do you mind?
Anybody else want to join in, feel free.
Thoughts on Still Yours:
1) Did Liz and Max from EoTW future ever have the connection? Were they able to fuse? Is the alien invasion still coming? Do they still need Tess to survive? (I’d really like to see something about a ‘double four-square’ here – it fits my sense of symmetry)
2.) I’ve probably said this before, but I love the fact that Brody and Amy are part of the “I know An Alien” club. Especially Brody. His sense of humor about everything is hilarious!
3.) About Brody and Amy – I got the impression that mindwarping itself isn’t that dangerous really – that Nicholas purposefully made it so that Alex and Kyle’s minds would degrade along with the warps. Is it possible that Tess purposefully made her warps degradeable as a hint that something wasn’t right? She was so limited in what she could do to warn her friends...
4.) I don’t have words to express how much I love the “intervention” that Isabel stages with the crew and Liz. It’s like exactly what Roswell was (or should have been, at least) about. The “family feeling” as I think someone here said earlier. Happiness abounds.
5.) Quote from chapter 5 – "Youth sucks," Alex thought. "Especially when you're a youth from both the mortal *and * the Immortal point of view." – Hey, have we had any discussions yet on the fact that besides never dying, Immortals also don’t age? Alex is going to spend the rest of his whatever life looking like he’s 17. I don’t think Alex is going to like spending his whole life getting carded at bars. <grimace> And I really don’t think Isabel will like the fact that she’s going to eventually be seen as a cradle robber. I wonder, could the aliens do some molecular manipulation to increase the age of his cells? Hmmm....
6.) I hope that in the sequels you have planned (and you’d better be serious about them!) that Diane and Phillip Evans will eventually find out the truth about their kids. I really like the part in Chapter Six where they muse on the ‘family’ that the kids developed. I think they’d be incredibly supportive of whatever the kids needed. And think what relief that would give to Max and Isabel!
7.) I’m excited to see what happens when the two composites (M/M and M/L) ‘wake up’ at the same time. Do you think they can communicate together? And what are their abilities? It looks like the composites have the alien’s power ramped up (e.g. Hector being able to force a healing connection on Kyle.) Just think what kinda stuff the candy composite will be able to blow up! LOL. I really, really, REALLY hope that we’re gonna see some of that during the upcoming immortal battle!
8.) Considering how the quickening affected Isabel when she and Alex were seperated, I wonder what would happen if they were in a Fusion? Actually, can the component parts of a fusion move on their own? That teaser you gave us – the one with swordfighters and the guy with completely black eyes – that sounds like they can. And, if the composite experiences a Quickening, how would it affect any composites around it? And is it possible to have a composite with more than two people? I mean, is that what the “Four Square” idea is all about? Mmmm, speculation, speculation...
9.) It will be interesting to see which of the adults will be coming along to Seattle. I can see a major argument between Amy and Maria coming up...
AMY: There’s no way I’m letting my daughter go diving straight into a war!
MARIA: Mom, I’m not letting Michael go alone.
AMY: Then I go with you.
MARIA: You don’t have any way of protecting yourself!
AMY: Neither do you!
MARIA: Um, well, actually...
It’s not going to be pretty, is it? <laugh>
10.) Quote from Chapter 17: “As Max made the turn onto his street he made a silent vow. After he and Liz were married, no more than one crisis a month and after their first baby, no more than one a year.” Oh Max, you hopeless optomist you... <laugh>
11.) Man, Kyle is getting a lot of experience with evil aliens, isn’t he? First Nicholas, now Sarah – Like Hector said, he really needs to watch that habit. <evil grin>
12.) Hey, I just realized something. How did the skin know that Michael and Maria have a telepathic communication? Is it something that happens a lot on their planet or were the skins somehow able to detect the communication happening. Is there any way they can listen in? And how much could the blocker block? I mean, like Liz said, Maria knew that Michael was still alive. So there was still some connection really deep down – I wonder if she could use that to find him, even if he was in, for example, a cell that blocked telepathic communication? Such interesting implications...
13.) Okay, Ava is being kept alive, among other reasons, to shame her family. So, does she have any support out there? Her family must be xenophobic if her pregnancy is shaming, but they must also be pretty powerful if K’var needs to ‘shame’ them. Man, I wish we knew what the situation on Antar was exactly.
14.) I love Amy getting all motherly about Tess. She finally got the Dad she deserved in Jim, it’s nice to see that she’ll be getting a mother in Amy. Actually, I guess Amy has kinda become the mother figure of all of them. Have I mentioned I love the ‘family’ dynamic here?
15.) Oh hey, somebody else might already have mentioned this, but is the Lakota Shaman that the Parkers related to the same one that Cass trained with? And if so, I wonder if Liz has inheireted some of his skills. Maybe Liz could be one of those humans that Cass mentioned that can learn to do what Isabel does... or more even?
I am getting so excited to see the Pod Squad and the Immortals team up. Personally, I think the Pod Squad will be able to handle themselves quite well against sword-swingers, no matter how durable. It’s the interpersonal stuff I’m curious about... I think the pod squad could learn a lot having the immortals as mentors. I mean, if they are going to eventually go up against K’var and his cronies (and I think they’ll have to if they ever want to be able to relax) they need a lot more skills than just being able to use their powers. They need to be able to plan, strategize, effectively lead people, infiltrate places, survive in hostile environments – basically, become warriors themselves. And who better than Duncan, Methos, Amanda, and Cass to teach them? Between the four of them, they probably have the skills needed to rule the world. (Not that they’d want to, you understand...)
I think I’d like to see... Methos working with Michael and Alex. Focusing on tactics, strategy, and how to be underhanded sneaky bastards. Amanda could team up with Maria...<giggle> Heaven save the world! I think Cass would work well with Liz and Isabel (well, once she and Isabel have, ahem, ‘talked’ out their differences.) In the area of mind-powers. And Duncan could do the warrior and Leader thing with Max and Kyle. Leader stuff for Max and warrior stuff for Kyle (if he’s going to be running into all these enemy aliens, he at least ought to be ready for them. And, if you think about it, when enemies are used to using powers to attack and defend, they’d probably be vulnerable to a physical attack.)
What I really want to see is a scene where maybe the fight is underway, when all of a sudden the doors (which are shut for some reason) are blown open and three girls appear in the doorway. The bad guys grin and think, no sweat, just some babes and start moving closer. The girls see Alex and as one start running towards him and suddenly the bad guys are flying back like bowling pins as Maria, Liz, and Isabel, disregarding the flying bad men completely, run and through their arms around their wayward friend. <sigh> Of course, it’s complete and utter wish fulfillment. Isn’t that the point?
Still Waiting anxiously
Katcin Lee
p.s. I know this is an incredibly long post. Sorry people! Blame K_K for being so darn thought-provoking!