Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 2 05/28/13
Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 7:02 am
yay, great update! 
Wonder how normal Liz, Maria and Kyle will be able to live their lives at this point?
Carolyn
Roswell Fanatics
Roswell, written the way it ought to be....
https://www.roswellfanatics.net/
Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 13 02/25/2016
Page 2 of 11
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 2 05/28/13
Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 7:23 am
Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Sun Jun 02, 2013 10:38 pm
begonia9508: Thanks for reading, and yes, I'm looking forward to sharing the parts when they start their inter-galatic travels too!
HypnotiqBlueEyes : Glad you like it. They've had a very interesting couple of years
saori_1902 : Thanks a lot!
keepsmiling7: Great question. The answer? Not very normal at all.
They might start out that way, but once you're in the alien abyss, there really isn't any way out.
Thanks for the feedback everyone! Always appreciate hearing your thoughts, we're back to the future in this part, and we see a little more behind what makes our favorite humans tick. Enjoy.
3. Damaged
10 years after the Departure
It’s been three days since we got back.
The night we did, after Vittorio and I had…words, the four of us escaped into the bustling nightlife the city had to offer. In the flashing lights, in the cool darkness, in the pulsing beats and the rhythm of the music, we try to lose ourselves. We try to immerse ourselves in what people our age are supposed to do, try so hard to emulate those around us, all in an effort to taste what was once ours.
A little bit of normalcy.
A small shred of control.
Maria flirts up a storm, flitting from once man to another, tempting, teasing, giving glimpses of a woman so utterly fascinating and thrilling, it is unlikely that any of her would-be suitors could ever keep up with her. To every song, she moves instinctively, sensuous and slow, captivating each of her admirers with nothing more than a simple toss of her hair, a jut of her hips and a sly smile that hints of better things to come.
Maria has the uncanny ability to make you feel like you are the center of her world when she smiles at you, and from the many slack jaws and wide eyes that follow her, it is obvious she’s been very generous with her smiles tonight. All the while she is doing this however, she gives the stage, the microphone, looks of longing comparable to those the men in the club give her. I know that this is Maria’s true love; her real desire. She would like to sing again, to let the world know of her sorrows and pains, her joys and delights, through the medium she is most fluent in.
I also know that she will never go near a microphone again. It involves too many bad memories, too much pain, both strong enough to overwhelm the strongest of burning want.
At the other end of the room, Kyle slowly moves to the beat, enticing, enthralling the one woman after the next with charming grins, heated stares and a fluidity on the dance floor that would have most women pinning him as gay were it not for the raw masculinity he exudes. If the chase were the skill by which all others are measured by, then very few could compare to Kyle. He is infinitely accomplished in the fine art of giving just enough of himself to seem genuine but keeping enough back to retain this aura of mystery that drives his would be victims wild with curiosity. Kyle projects this image of equal parts the man you would love to take home and introduce to your family and the one you can count on to be untamable. What is it about men like that that makes women think they can be the one to tame them?
If you watched carefully enough though, you would notice something odd about him. My friend is never starved for the company of beautiful women. The most obvious examples are at the moment staring at him with barely hidden desire. All as striking as the next, they share one more thing in common: all have dark hair. The blondes hover on the edge of this adoring crowd, frustrated and bewildered beyond belief. Kyle has never given any of them a second look, no matter how they persist, no matter how they try to hold his attention. As soon as his eyes settle upon the golden tresses, they glaze over and rejection, smooth and affable, is quick to follow.
The last 10 years have done little to dampen Kyle’s healthy appreciation of women, just as it has done little to weaken his aversion to blondes. I’m sure this little facet of his personality needs no further explanation.
In the VIP section of the club, roped off and observing others from the lofty perch that money and power afford, Alex is the life of the party. Here, he is completely in his element, integrating with those born of luxury and prestige like he is one by blood. Worldly and knowledgeable, funny and endearing, he is the celebrity of those gathered around him, the shining star everyone seeks to get close to. I know he prefers it this way, these shallow friendships that don’t need to last past the exit of the club. No danger of ties being formed. No risk of innocents getting caught in the minefield of our lives. He feels most at home here, even more so than with us, because here, everything, no matter how petty or shallow, is certain, and he knows this, a stark contrast from anything else in his life. Though we are his family now, and he knows we would fight for him, bleed for him, die for him, he possesses the unfortunate knowledge that in other times, in other lives, who we are and what we’ve done have killed him too, and how the hell can anyone really ever resolve something like that?
I sit, alone, at the furthest table from the crowd, the darkest corner of the VIP section. Half hidden in the shadows, I choose to be the silent observer. Close enough to life to be a part of it if I wanted to be…but the thing is, I’m not sure I want to. Or rather, I’m afraid I cannot ever be part of this life again. That decision was made for me when a bullet tore through my stomach, when the FBI crashed into my life, when Destiny came calling…when I almost died in the pit of an alien dungeon. And I haven’t even gotten started on the mess with the Granolith yet.
By dawn, we four meet up to go home. Tired and restless, the smell of smoke and sweat and liquor hangs over us all. We each parked on the top level of the garage and one by one, we settle on the hoods of our cars, waiting for another day to start.
“ Slow night.”
Maria gives Kyle a sidelong look. “ Why? Only five women to your usual ten?”
“ Ah, what can I say? Didn’t have it in me to be that charming tonight.” Kyle stretches, and grins at Alex. “And how did you make out, Alex?”
“ Invites to 5 launch parties, 3 store openings, 2 concerts and one coming out party.” Alex shrugs. “Slow night.”
Nobody asks me if I have forged any connections. They don't have to. The answer is always the same.
The sun rises slowly, chasing away the dark, the chill, and the emptiness, if only for a brief time. As the earliest rays snake through the streets of the city, I know each of us feels that at last our homecoming is complete. A fiery yellow-orange ball of fire greets our sight as the deep purple hue of the night sky turns gradually to dusky pink and then the lightest shade of coral before yielding to the familiar sky blue we have known our whole lives. Warmth invades, stealing even into the cold, empty caverns masquerading as our hearts. It is all too quick to pass, but for a time, we feel peace.
It never lasts.
In the dead of the night, there is movement in the compound. Each of us knows where our young guest is housed, and for the past three days, apart from the visits to give the necessities such as sustenance, we dare not go any closer to his room than we have to. Each of us is haunted by reminders of those who left each time we do.
Kyle sees her, in the shape of his chin, the inquisitive slant of his head, the curl of his hair. Maria picks out all the markers that announce he is their son, but also notices the necklace the boy wears, and knows without a shadow of a doubt that the hands of her former lover molded it for him. Alex is strangely fascinated, it’s not often you get to meet the reason you died, after all, but then he sees the meticulous way the boy arranges his toys, and gets hit with a pang so intense because the action reminds him so much of a beautiful, unapproachable girl, the one he knows a part of him loved with everything he had. When I look at him, I see the possibilities that could have been, and know that he could have been my son. He could still pass for it, he has nothing of her coloring after all, but he’s not mine. He’s not. And in the cruel light of day, none of us can bear to spend more time with him than required, and we flee.
It is different at night, however.
In the dark, in the quiet, we seem to regain the courage that daylight steals from us. We regain the strength, we resurrect the notion that we are capable of coming face to face with this child, the embodiment of everything that caused chaos in our lives. So at different times, we each sneak into his room, to bring him a new toy, a new book. More paints, another blanket. We do this, only when he is asleep, or so quickly that he never manages to pin us with that familiar but not gaze. That, we cannot bear.
We do not even know his name. Call us selfish, coldhearted, cruel; call us every name in the book possible for being so willing to lay the blame of our misfortunes at his feet, but we never claimed to be saints.
Hell, we never even claimed to be good people.
What we are is damaged.
We are broken. We are cynical and cold, derisive and apathetic, and oh so incredibly fucked up in the head that none of us will ever truly be right again. We will never know the safety and comfort that ignorance affords to everyone else. We know too much, have seen far more and done things no one should ever have had to do.
So we pretend. We pretend we’re still human, we pretend we can still function like others, pretend to enjoy, pretend to laugh, pretend to live.
And love?
Out of the question.
There is no love.
There never was.
It was ‘love’ that brought us here, after all. ‘Love’ caused a stranger on this planet to expose himself to save a girl, ‘love’ caused a man to come back into time to break his future wife’s heart, and ‘love’ caused a woman to rain down hell on everyone in her way to reclaim a heart that was never hers in the first place.
Love, ladies and gentlemen, sucks ass.
May you never fall in love.
“Liz.”
Maria nudges me, gesturing over her shoulder to the garage attendant who has come to see that we don’t stay a minute past what we paid for. Kyle and Alex are already in their cars, waiting for us.
I nod, and slip inside my car.
One by one, we pull out of the lot. We tear down the streets, like we own them, pushing our cars, our selves, to dangerous limits. Kyle tears past an 18-wheeler, making a turn that would have had a normal man peeing in his pants. Alex outdoes him, sending his car over the curb and onto the sidewalk, scaring the wits out of some poor cat. Never one to be left in the dust, Maria picks up the pace, barely making it through the intersection before the light turns red and flying between two cars, whose drivers blare their horns angrily. I see a well-manicured hand stick out the window of her Ferrari, giving the men an expensive French tipped finger.
I laugh and gun my engine, smoothly cutting her off at the next intersection before setting my sights on Alex’s tail lights.
There’s no way I’m going to lose.
Why do we do this?
It’s just another way we try to feel. Nothing comes from inside us anymore, so we take everything from outside. It’s the sad notion that danger will actually make us give a damn about anything other than ourselves, each other, and what’s left of our relationships with our families. We tempt death at every corner, every squeal of the tires, every narrow escape, because it’s our way of reminding ourselves that yes, we are still alive, because inside…inside, we are anything but.
We lie to ourselves every day. We try to make ourselves feel good with the promise of something better, a future that may never come. I envy the people who can do this without falling into despair. They have that fragile thing called hope, something that became very hard for me to hang on to as the years dragged on. Hope is what gives people the strength to rise above adversity they face, hope is the reason that some people are still going.
And if we don’t have that, then what is our reason?
Sick as it is, I’ll tell you what.
It’s them.
It always comes back to them.
We will deny it, we will lie and lie and lie to ourselves until we choke in a mountain of untruths, but it always, always comes back to them.
It’s all we live for.
We want to show them that they didn’t win. That after everything we have been through, we did not need them to rescue us, that even after they so royally screwed up our lives and left us for dead, we didn’t die. It’s pathetic and wrong, but it’s the sad and ugly truth. We hurt so much inside, so much that we literally feel like we are bleeding all over the floor at the intensity of it, but every day, we get up, we go on, we remind ourselves that we are stronger than this. We trained ourselves to be. And yet, put in front of us something that even remotely reminds us of them…and no matter how we try to pretend, it affects us.
It’s so goddamn tiring.
None of us want it anymore.
If we could cut it out and destroy it, we would. But every day, all we can do is fight it off, get more and more tired of it. We can lie to ourselves. We can pretend we don’t care. And sometimes, it works.
But other times….
Oh well.
That’s what alcohol is for.
That morning, after we got back from the club, there is a trail of clothing on my floor, leading to the bathroom where I soak in a tub and allow myself the luxury of silence. One of the few things that remain from my childhood is my utter inability to spend less than an hour in a bath; it is one of the few indulgences I allow myself, one of the few things I still genuinely enjoy.
A slight buzzing starts up in my head. I frown in consternation as I realize what it means. The Target is awake, and confused…and hungry. Wormhole travels take a lot of energy, and their effect on children is often thrice that on an adult, and he has generally been asleep for the last three days, barring the times we have woken him to feed him, and the few minutes after that he is able to overcome his tiredness and play with his toys. By some unspoken agreement, we have been taking shifts in checking up on him and…it’s my turn.
A grimace crosses my face as I rise from the tub and wrap myself in a towel, drying my hair with a quick run through it with my fingers. Here comes my ‘favorite’ part of the day, caring for the living symbol of the complete and utter failure of what I thought was the strongest relationship I’d ever had.
If that isn’t damaging, I don’t know what is.
FIN.
HypnotiqBlueEyes : Glad you like it. They've had a very interesting couple of years
saori_1902 : Thanks a lot!
keepsmiling7: Great question. The answer? Not very normal at all.
They might start out that way, but once you're in the alien abyss, there really isn't any way out. Thanks for the feedback everyone! Always appreciate hearing your thoughts, we're back to the future in this part, and we see a little more behind what makes our favorite humans tick. Enjoy.
3. Damaged
10 years after the Departure
It’s been three days since we got back.
The night we did, after Vittorio and I had…words, the four of us escaped into the bustling nightlife the city had to offer. In the flashing lights, in the cool darkness, in the pulsing beats and the rhythm of the music, we try to lose ourselves. We try to immerse ourselves in what people our age are supposed to do, try so hard to emulate those around us, all in an effort to taste what was once ours.
A little bit of normalcy.
A small shred of control.
Maria flirts up a storm, flitting from once man to another, tempting, teasing, giving glimpses of a woman so utterly fascinating and thrilling, it is unlikely that any of her would-be suitors could ever keep up with her. To every song, she moves instinctively, sensuous and slow, captivating each of her admirers with nothing more than a simple toss of her hair, a jut of her hips and a sly smile that hints of better things to come.
Maria has the uncanny ability to make you feel like you are the center of her world when she smiles at you, and from the many slack jaws and wide eyes that follow her, it is obvious she’s been very generous with her smiles tonight. All the while she is doing this however, she gives the stage, the microphone, looks of longing comparable to those the men in the club give her. I know that this is Maria’s true love; her real desire. She would like to sing again, to let the world know of her sorrows and pains, her joys and delights, through the medium she is most fluent in.
I also know that she will never go near a microphone again. It involves too many bad memories, too much pain, both strong enough to overwhelm the strongest of burning want.
At the other end of the room, Kyle slowly moves to the beat, enticing, enthralling the one woman after the next with charming grins, heated stares and a fluidity on the dance floor that would have most women pinning him as gay were it not for the raw masculinity he exudes. If the chase were the skill by which all others are measured by, then very few could compare to Kyle. He is infinitely accomplished in the fine art of giving just enough of himself to seem genuine but keeping enough back to retain this aura of mystery that drives his would be victims wild with curiosity. Kyle projects this image of equal parts the man you would love to take home and introduce to your family and the one you can count on to be untamable. What is it about men like that that makes women think they can be the one to tame them?
If you watched carefully enough though, you would notice something odd about him. My friend is never starved for the company of beautiful women. The most obvious examples are at the moment staring at him with barely hidden desire. All as striking as the next, they share one more thing in common: all have dark hair. The blondes hover on the edge of this adoring crowd, frustrated and bewildered beyond belief. Kyle has never given any of them a second look, no matter how they persist, no matter how they try to hold his attention. As soon as his eyes settle upon the golden tresses, they glaze over and rejection, smooth and affable, is quick to follow.
The last 10 years have done little to dampen Kyle’s healthy appreciation of women, just as it has done little to weaken his aversion to blondes. I’m sure this little facet of his personality needs no further explanation.
In the VIP section of the club, roped off and observing others from the lofty perch that money and power afford, Alex is the life of the party. Here, he is completely in his element, integrating with those born of luxury and prestige like he is one by blood. Worldly and knowledgeable, funny and endearing, he is the celebrity of those gathered around him, the shining star everyone seeks to get close to. I know he prefers it this way, these shallow friendships that don’t need to last past the exit of the club. No danger of ties being formed. No risk of innocents getting caught in the minefield of our lives. He feels most at home here, even more so than with us, because here, everything, no matter how petty or shallow, is certain, and he knows this, a stark contrast from anything else in his life. Though we are his family now, and he knows we would fight for him, bleed for him, die for him, he possesses the unfortunate knowledge that in other times, in other lives, who we are and what we’ve done have killed him too, and how the hell can anyone really ever resolve something like that?
I sit, alone, at the furthest table from the crowd, the darkest corner of the VIP section. Half hidden in the shadows, I choose to be the silent observer. Close enough to life to be a part of it if I wanted to be…but the thing is, I’m not sure I want to. Or rather, I’m afraid I cannot ever be part of this life again. That decision was made for me when a bullet tore through my stomach, when the FBI crashed into my life, when Destiny came calling…when I almost died in the pit of an alien dungeon. And I haven’t even gotten started on the mess with the Granolith yet.
By dawn, we four meet up to go home. Tired and restless, the smell of smoke and sweat and liquor hangs over us all. We each parked on the top level of the garage and one by one, we settle on the hoods of our cars, waiting for another day to start.
“ Slow night.”
Maria gives Kyle a sidelong look. “ Why? Only five women to your usual ten?”
“ Ah, what can I say? Didn’t have it in me to be that charming tonight.” Kyle stretches, and grins at Alex. “And how did you make out, Alex?”
“ Invites to 5 launch parties, 3 store openings, 2 concerts and one coming out party.” Alex shrugs. “Slow night.”
Nobody asks me if I have forged any connections. They don't have to. The answer is always the same.
The sun rises slowly, chasing away the dark, the chill, and the emptiness, if only for a brief time. As the earliest rays snake through the streets of the city, I know each of us feels that at last our homecoming is complete. A fiery yellow-orange ball of fire greets our sight as the deep purple hue of the night sky turns gradually to dusky pink and then the lightest shade of coral before yielding to the familiar sky blue we have known our whole lives. Warmth invades, stealing even into the cold, empty caverns masquerading as our hearts. It is all too quick to pass, but for a time, we feel peace.
It never lasts.
In the dead of the night, there is movement in the compound. Each of us knows where our young guest is housed, and for the past three days, apart from the visits to give the necessities such as sustenance, we dare not go any closer to his room than we have to. Each of us is haunted by reminders of those who left each time we do.
Kyle sees her, in the shape of his chin, the inquisitive slant of his head, the curl of his hair. Maria picks out all the markers that announce he is their son, but also notices the necklace the boy wears, and knows without a shadow of a doubt that the hands of her former lover molded it for him. Alex is strangely fascinated, it’s not often you get to meet the reason you died, after all, but then he sees the meticulous way the boy arranges his toys, and gets hit with a pang so intense because the action reminds him so much of a beautiful, unapproachable girl, the one he knows a part of him loved with everything he had. When I look at him, I see the possibilities that could have been, and know that he could have been my son. He could still pass for it, he has nothing of her coloring after all, but he’s not mine. He’s not. And in the cruel light of day, none of us can bear to spend more time with him than required, and we flee.
It is different at night, however.
In the dark, in the quiet, we seem to regain the courage that daylight steals from us. We regain the strength, we resurrect the notion that we are capable of coming face to face with this child, the embodiment of everything that caused chaos in our lives. So at different times, we each sneak into his room, to bring him a new toy, a new book. More paints, another blanket. We do this, only when he is asleep, or so quickly that he never manages to pin us with that familiar but not gaze. That, we cannot bear.
We do not even know his name. Call us selfish, coldhearted, cruel; call us every name in the book possible for being so willing to lay the blame of our misfortunes at his feet, but we never claimed to be saints.
Hell, we never even claimed to be good people.
What we are is damaged.
We are broken. We are cynical and cold, derisive and apathetic, and oh so incredibly fucked up in the head that none of us will ever truly be right again. We will never know the safety and comfort that ignorance affords to everyone else. We know too much, have seen far more and done things no one should ever have had to do.
So we pretend. We pretend we’re still human, we pretend we can still function like others, pretend to enjoy, pretend to laugh, pretend to live.
And love?
Out of the question.
There is no love.
There never was.
It was ‘love’ that brought us here, after all. ‘Love’ caused a stranger on this planet to expose himself to save a girl, ‘love’ caused a man to come back into time to break his future wife’s heart, and ‘love’ caused a woman to rain down hell on everyone in her way to reclaim a heart that was never hers in the first place.
Love, ladies and gentlemen, sucks ass.
May you never fall in love.
“Liz.”
Maria nudges me, gesturing over her shoulder to the garage attendant who has come to see that we don’t stay a minute past what we paid for. Kyle and Alex are already in their cars, waiting for us.
I nod, and slip inside my car.
One by one, we pull out of the lot. We tear down the streets, like we own them, pushing our cars, our selves, to dangerous limits. Kyle tears past an 18-wheeler, making a turn that would have had a normal man peeing in his pants. Alex outdoes him, sending his car over the curb and onto the sidewalk, scaring the wits out of some poor cat. Never one to be left in the dust, Maria picks up the pace, barely making it through the intersection before the light turns red and flying between two cars, whose drivers blare their horns angrily. I see a well-manicured hand stick out the window of her Ferrari, giving the men an expensive French tipped finger.
I laugh and gun my engine, smoothly cutting her off at the next intersection before setting my sights on Alex’s tail lights.
There’s no way I’m going to lose.
Why do we do this?
It’s just another way we try to feel. Nothing comes from inside us anymore, so we take everything from outside. It’s the sad notion that danger will actually make us give a damn about anything other than ourselves, each other, and what’s left of our relationships with our families. We tempt death at every corner, every squeal of the tires, every narrow escape, because it’s our way of reminding ourselves that yes, we are still alive, because inside…inside, we are anything but.
We lie to ourselves every day. We try to make ourselves feel good with the promise of something better, a future that may never come. I envy the people who can do this without falling into despair. They have that fragile thing called hope, something that became very hard for me to hang on to as the years dragged on. Hope is what gives people the strength to rise above adversity they face, hope is the reason that some people are still going.
And if we don’t have that, then what is our reason?
Sick as it is, I’ll tell you what.
It’s them.
It always comes back to them.
We will deny it, we will lie and lie and lie to ourselves until we choke in a mountain of untruths, but it always, always comes back to them.
It’s all we live for.
We want to show them that they didn’t win. That after everything we have been through, we did not need them to rescue us, that even after they so royally screwed up our lives and left us for dead, we didn’t die. It’s pathetic and wrong, but it’s the sad and ugly truth. We hurt so much inside, so much that we literally feel like we are bleeding all over the floor at the intensity of it, but every day, we get up, we go on, we remind ourselves that we are stronger than this. We trained ourselves to be. And yet, put in front of us something that even remotely reminds us of them…and no matter how we try to pretend, it affects us.
It’s so goddamn tiring.
None of us want it anymore.
If we could cut it out and destroy it, we would. But every day, all we can do is fight it off, get more and more tired of it. We can lie to ourselves. We can pretend we don’t care. And sometimes, it works.
But other times….
Oh well.
That’s what alcohol is for.
That morning, after we got back from the club, there is a trail of clothing on my floor, leading to the bathroom where I soak in a tub and allow myself the luxury of silence. One of the few things that remain from my childhood is my utter inability to spend less than an hour in a bath; it is one of the few indulgences I allow myself, one of the few things I still genuinely enjoy.
A slight buzzing starts up in my head. I frown in consternation as I realize what it means. The Target is awake, and confused…and hungry. Wormhole travels take a lot of energy, and their effect on children is often thrice that on an adult, and he has generally been asleep for the last three days, barring the times we have woken him to feed him, and the few minutes after that he is able to overcome his tiredness and play with his toys. By some unspoken agreement, we have been taking shifts in checking up on him and…it’s my turn.
A grimace crosses my face as I rise from the tub and wrap myself in a towel, drying my hair with a quick run through it with my fingers. Here comes my ‘favorite’ part of the day, caring for the living symbol of the complete and utter failure of what I thought was the strongest relationship I’d ever had.
If that isn’t damaging, I don’t know what is.
FIN.
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Mon Jun 03, 2013 6:36 am
very good chapter.
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Mon Jun 03, 2013 7:47 am
Your writing continues to amaze me....
I can just see Maria flirting......always the performer. Her true love is singing.
So Kyle is "equal parts to the man".......love that little grin of his.
Alex has a low night......
Damaged and broken.......and yes, it does always come back to "them"!
Carolyn
I can just see Maria flirting......always the performer. Her true love is singing.
So Kyle is "equal parts to the man".......love that little grin of his.
Alex has a low night......
Damaged and broken.......and yes, it does always come back to "them"!
Carolyn
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Tue Jun 04, 2013 1:16 am
I really want to know how Liz, Maria, Kyle and Alex came to be the frighteningly powerful team that you're showing us 10 years after Departure. I've got so many questions and I can't wait for them to start being answered as you go along. How on earth did Alex come back? Is Max the King that Liz doesn't want to face? If so, what happened to Khivar? How did Liz become linked to the granolith, and just who is Vittorio? And especially, why is the child only 5 years old, not 10? I find Liz's interactions with the child very moving. She's trying so hard to keep her distance and deny her emotional responses to him, but he's breaking through them from the first. I can't wait to see where you go with this.
I know you've said that the first parts will tell us about the humans, so I'm going to have to be patient. I'm very curious about what's happened to Max and co and what their position is on Antar.
This is an amazing start, and I can't wait to read more. Hope you're able to come back soon, Alix
I know you've said that the first parts will tell us about the humans, so I'm going to have to be patient. I'm very curious about what's happened to Max and co and what their position is on Antar.
This is an amazing start, and I can't wait to read more. Hope you're able to come back soon, Alix
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Tue Jun 04, 2013 11:28 am
Oh Wow! Two parts for me! 
Pt2 - Obviously normal didn't last very long for them, but it was good to see them try to be strong in such a loss.
Pt3 - They all have their issues with the kid but as closely "Linked' as they are now to him I can see them fighting a losing battle. He's just too cute and now that he's moble I bet he's going to be after them for his puppy. Maybe he'll take after his father and be the balm that heals the hurt to their humanity.
Can't wait for the next part.
p.s. - If you need someone to beta for you still please feel free to IM me.
Pt2 - Obviously normal didn't last very long for them, but it was good to see them try to be strong in such a loss.
Pt3 - They all have their issues with the kid but as closely "Linked' as they are now to him I can see them fighting a losing battle. He's just too cute and now that he's moble I bet he's going to be after them for his puppy. Maybe he'll take after his father and be the balm that heals the hurt to their humanity.
Can't wait for the next part.
p.s. - If you need someone to beta for you still please feel free to IM me.
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Wed Jun 05, 2013 8:05 pm
yay. Can't wait for the next part.
Re: Endless Spiral CC, Mature, Part 3 06/02/13
Posted: Fri Jun 07, 2013 11:03 am
Are there stories about the Royal Four, along with the Roswell humans ? You're very talented, brava!
Part 4
Posted: Fri Jun 07, 2013 5:43 pm
Natalie36: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it.
keepsmiling7 : Aw, thank you!
xilaj: Excellent questions! All will be revealed in time, but you've picked up on the biggest mysteries. PS: I also got your PM, thanks a lot, will PM you back in a bit.
Strawbehrry Shortcake: Very true, the whole normal thing wasn't going to last, but as we'll see, our favorite humans gave it their best shot. And as for having 'issues' with the kid...haha that's one way of putting it. Also, I'll be PM'ing you soon also.
saori_1902: And here it is. Hope you like it!
sonia62 : Thank you!
Author's note: Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading! I've been getting lots of questions about when the podsquad are going to be making an appearance. The answer? Not anytime soon. Keep in mind, I'm trying to advance the 'current' storyline and fill in the backstory at the same time...and 10 years, especially with all the weird and wacky things I have to explain is a lot to cover. I am toying with the idea of writing a series of one shots in the podsquad's POV, but erm...I think I need to finish Cupid, and this, and my start plotting my original writing project as well, before I start up yet another thing Have no fear though, Max and co. will be a big part of the story as well. Just not quite yet.
Here is the next one shot, very short and we're back to the past. Feedback, as always is greatly appreciated.
4. Could I be Your Girl?
October 24, 2004- 3 years after The Departure
“ We need to get lives. I hope you know this.”
Liz Parker was 20 years old, cranky, stressed and over caffeinated. And still, she reached out for the cup of noxious black goo masquerading as coffee, choosing to not reply. A hand shot out and snatched the coffee cup out of her reach. Scowling, she finally looked up, and met the mischievous green eyes of Jack Taylor.
“ Give.” She commanded.
“ Agree with me first.” He gestured around them, at the tiny apartment and Liz’s even tinier kitchen, with the kitchen table overflowing with books, notes, broken pieces of cookies and the coffee pot filled with the questionable substance that had been recognizable five hours ago. “ It’s a Friday night, I know for certain that there are at LEAST 5 parties going on tonight, 3 of which we have been invited to…and here we are. Doing what we always do. Studying our brains out.”
Liz sighed, and gently tugged her cup out of his hand. “ Jack…I told you that you didn’t need to stay in with me tonight, remember? I would have gone out, god knows I need a break from all this crap…but I have all this stuff due and I can’t take more time off work because Jerry is on the verge of firing me and…and…”
Seeing Jack’s amusement never fade, Liz shook her head and took a sip, making a face at the acrid taste.
“ Ugh. You’re right. We need to get lives.”
“ That’s my girl.”
She directed her gaze downward, hoping to avoid the inevitable conversation that followed statements like that. Her efforts were futile however, as Jack continued to talk, his casual tone belying the seriousness of the matter.
“ Or at least, you could be my girl…if you would agree to go out with me.”
Liz bit her lip and lifted her head to meet his unwavering gaze, so full of affection and longing for her. How long had it been since someone had looked at her like that, seen her as something precious and desirable? An image of honey flecked amber eyes flashed into her mind, triggering a nasty contraction of the heart. She swallowed against the stab of pain, and the weary realization that three long years had passed. Three years, and the ache had yet to lessen, and the nights she was haunted by dreams of a love lost had yet to cease. It seemed like where Max Evans was concerned, she would be forever stuck in a cycle of the unknown, unable to grieve for his passing, afraid to hope for his survival, at a loss to reconcile the boy who she had loved enough to change the world for with the angry, imperious, and ultimately, remorseful, version she had been too late to save that blazing summer day.
As if knowing the direction her thoughts had veered to, a warm hand covered her own, and immediately dark eyes snapped to verdant green and dragged her back to the present.
“ Hey. You still with me?”
“ Jack. ” At a loss, she was unable to get past saying his name. Any sane woman would have been delirious with happiness had someone like Jack expressed interest in her. He was smart, funny and charming…the boy could even COOK for god’s sake. And it certainly didn’t help that he was sinfully good-looking, the combination of green eyes and dark hair only enhancing his appeal. Even though she steadfastly refused to reveal the real reason behind her frequent collapses, he was still there for her, picking up the pieces and holding her together after particularly rough episodes. Jack was a prize…and despite everything, despite the fact that he had many other offers, he was hers for the taking.
So why the hesitation?
“ I know, I know. Too much. I just thought I should remind you, Liz, that I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.” He reached out and tucked the wayward strand of hair that always fell into her eyes behind her ear. The bangs were an experiment done at the insistence of Maria, and while Liz acknowledged they weren’t bad, they were also annoying as hell. “ And do me a favor, and stop comparing me to the guy who put that wounded look in those pretty brown eyes of yours.” He didn’t wait to hear the protests that were about to fall from her already open mouth. “ I’m not him. Whatever he said to you, whatever he promised and he didn’t deliver on, I’m not going to make the same mistakes. Okay? I’m not stupid enough to this go without a fight, Liz.”
The cynical, jaded part of her, the one that had known was it was like to be wrapped up in a love that had seemed to defy all rationality, only to discover that it was all a lie, scoffed at the pretty words. The other side, the one that seemed to never know when to quit, raised her head hopefully, and pushed forth a question before she could stop it.
“ Why?”
Jack smiled crookedly, eyes gleaming with earnestness.
“ Because you could be the love of my life. And I could be yours. ” He leaned forward suggestively, and Liz didn’t move away.
On the contrary, her gaze dropped to his lips and her heart hammered double time in a way it hadn’t for a very long time.
And god help her, it felt…good.
For few, brief moments, it was enough to drive even the most persistent ghosts of the past away, and she could focus on nothing but Jack, and the way he was breathing life back into the fragments of a heart long broken.
“ So how about it?” His smile was soft and inviting, eyes bright with possibilities Liz had long given up on. “ Do you want to find out?”
FIN.
keepsmiling7 : Aw, thank you!
xilaj: Excellent questions! All will be revealed in time, but you've picked up on the biggest mysteries. PS: I also got your PM, thanks a lot, will PM you back in a bit.
Strawbehrry Shortcake: Very true, the whole normal thing wasn't going to last, but as we'll see, our favorite humans gave it their best shot. And as for having 'issues' with the kid...haha that's one way of putting it. Also, I'll be PM'ing you soon also.
saori_1902: And here it is. Hope you like it!
sonia62 : Thank you!
Author's note: Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading! I've been getting lots of questions about when the podsquad are going to be making an appearance. The answer? Not anytime soon. Keep in mind, I'm trying to advance the 'current' storyline and fill in the backstory at the same time...and 10 years, especially with all the weird and wacky things I have to explain is a lot to cover. I am toying with the idea of writing a series of one shots in the podsquad's POV, but erm...I think I need to finish Cupid, and this, and my start plotting my original writing project as well, before I start up yet another thing
Have no fear though, Max and co. will be a big part of the story as well. Just not quite yet.Here is the next one shot, very short and we're back to the past. Feedback, as always is greatly appreciated.
4. Could I be Your Girl?
October 24, 2004- 3 years after The Departure
“ We need to get lives. I hope you know this.”
Liz Parker was 20 years old, cranky, stressed and over caffeinated. And still, she reached out for the cup of noxious black goo masquerading as coffee, choosing to not reply. A hand shot out and snatched the coffee cup out of her reach. Scowling, she finally looked up, and met the mischievous green eyes of Jack Taylor.
“ Give.” She commanded.
“ Agree with me first.” He gestured around them, at the tiny apartment and Liz’s even tinier kitchen, with the kitchen table overflowing with books, notes, broken pieces of cookies and the coffee pot filled with the questionable substance that had been recognizable five hours ago. “ It’s a Friday night, I know for certain that there are at LEAST 5 parties going on tonight, 3 of which we have been invited to…and here we are. Doing what we always do. Studying our brains out.”
Liz sighed, and gently tugged her cup out of his hand. “ Jack…I told you that you didn’t need to stay in with me tonight, remember? I would have gone out, god knows I need a break from all this crap…but I have all this stuff due and I can’t take more time off work because Jerry is on the verge of firing me and…and…”
Seeing Jack’s amusement never fade, Liz shook her head and took a sip, making a face at the acrid taste.
“ Ugh. You’re right. We need to get lives.”
“ That’s my girl.”
She directed her gaze downward, hoping to avoid the inevitable conversation that followed statements like that. Her efforts were futile however, as Jack continued to talk, his casual tone belying the seriousness of the matter.
“ Or at least, you could be my girl…if you would agree to go out with me.”
Liz bit her lip and lifted her head to meet his unwavering gaze, so full of affection and longing for her. How long had it been since someone had looked at her like that, seen her as something precious and desirable? An image of honey flecked amber eyes flashed into her mind, triggering a nasty contraction of the heart. She swallowed against the stab of pain, and the weary realization that three long years had passed. Three years, and the ache had yet to lessen, and the nights she was haunted by dreams of a love lost had yet to cease. It seemed like where Max Evans was concerned, she would be forever stuck in a cycle of the unknown, unable to grieve for his passing, afraid to hope for his survival, at a loss to reconcile the boy who she had loved enough to change the world for with the angry, imperious, and ultimately, remorseful, version she had been too late to save that blazing summer day.
As if knowing the direction her thoughts had veered to, a warm hand covered her own, and immediately dark eyes snapped to verdant green and dragged her back to the present.
“ Hey. You still with me?”
“ Jack. ” At a loss, she was unable to get past saying his name. Any sane woman would have been delirious with happiness had someone like Jack expressed interest in her. He was smart, funny and charming…the boy could even COOK for god’s sake. And it certainly didn’t help that he was sinfully good-looking, the combination of green eyes and dark hair only enhancing his appeal. Even though she steadfastly refused to reveal the real reason behind her frequent collapses, he was still there for her, picking up the pieces and holding her together after particularly rough episodes. Jack was a prize…and despite everything, despite the fact that he had many other offers, he was hers for the taking.
So why the hesitation?
“ I know, I know. Too much. I just thought I should remind you, Liz, that I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.” He reached out and tucked the wayward strand of hair that always fell into her eyes behind her ear. The bangs were an experiment done at the insistence of Maria, and while Liz acknowledged they weren’t bad, they were also annoying as hell. “ And do me a favor, and stop comparing me to the guy who put that wounded look in those pretty brown eyes of yours.” He didn’t wait to hear the protests that were about to fall from her already open mouth. “ I’m not him. Whatever he said to you, whatever he promised and he didn’t deliver on, I’m not going to make the same mistakes. Okay? I’m not stupid enough to this go without a fight, Liz.”
The cynical, jaded part of her, the one that had known was it was like to be wrapped up in a love that had seemed to defy all rationality, only to discover that it was all a lie, scoffed at the pretty words. The other side, the one that seemed to never know when to quit, raised her head hopefully, and pushed forth a question before she could stop it.
“ Why?”
Jack smiled crookedly, eyes gleaming with earnestness.
“ Because you could be the love of my life. And I could be yours. ” He leaned forward suggestively, and Liz didn’t move away.
On the contrary, her gaze dropped to his lips and her heart hammered double time in a way it hadn’t for a very long time.
And god help her, it felt…good.
For few, brief moments, it was enough to drive even the most persistent ghosts of the past away, and she could focus on nothing but Jack, and the way he was breathing life back into the fragments of a heart long broken.
“ So how about it?” His smile was soft and inviting, eyes bright with possibilities Liz had long given up on. “ Do you want to find out?”
FIN.