Roswell Fanatics

*** I'd like to send a BIG thanks to Aggie who was inspired to make this banner. It's beautiful, girl. I love it. ***

Title: Future Unforeseen
Author: Glory
Category: Crossover (Roswell/Dark Angel)
Pairing: X-tremer (Liz/Alec)
Rating: Mature

Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of “Roswell” and “Dark Angel” are not mine. "Roswell" belongs to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, The WB, and UPN. “Dark Angel” belongs to James Cameron, Charles E. Eglee and FOX. No infringement is intended, please don’t sue.

Summary: Based on Dezi's (a.k.a. Jezebel Jinx) "Ghost Town" challenge where Liz disappears during a school field trip to a ghost town and reappears in post-Pulse Seattle 2 decades later. Details for this challenge can be found here under challenge #3.

Spoilers: Set 4 or 5 months after "Freak Nation" (DA) and post "Surprise" (ROS) with some changes that will be explained as the story moves along. Two main differences are that Liz was the one captured by the Special Unit in “Max to the Max” and Nasedo did not die in “Skin and Bones”.

Author’s Note: The following chapter contains dialogue from the Roswell episodes “The White Room” and “The End of the World”, some of which has been rearranged to better suit this story. Also, anything in Italics represents dreams, thoughts, & flashbacks.



Chapter 1: An Unsettling Present


Roswell, New Mexico: May 13th, 2000

“Hello. FBI? Yes, Agent Pierce, please. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, I know there’s no Agent Pierce. Just let him know that I left him a little clue on Highway 380 to Hondo. Near mile marker 67.”

“Are you going to kill me, too?”

“Not as long as I still need you.”


* * * * *


“What kind of Hostage am I? Pierce would just kill me.”

“Oh, there’s a thought. Actually, he wouldn’t. See, he knows what Max did to you at the CrashDown that day. He wants you alive. You see, he needs answers. You could come in extremely handy in terms of my survival, and even if you don’t, you’ve been fantastic company.”


* * * * *


“Max!”

“Liz, get out of here.”

“Not without you.”

“Liz! Behind you!”


* * * * *


“Good Morning, Liz.”

“Where am I?”

“Someplace where no one can find you.”

“Why am I here?”

“That’s what I want to try to find out.”


* * * * *


“You know, I might not have been around in 1947, but I know all about the crash. About the four aliens they captured; two dead, two alive. I’ve spent my entire career studying the documentation. Especially the three years of observation they made on the one held in captivity, right here in this room.”

“I thought you said there were four.”

“One of them escaped. Nasedo. Isn’t that what you call him?”


* * * * *


“The serum we injected you with stimulates the neurotransmitters in your cerebral cortex. Experiments on the alien in the forties taught us that that’s where most of your powers come from.”

“I don’t have any powers.”

“Not yet, anyway.”


* * * * *


“Did you know that whenever your so-called friends use their “gifts” they leave behind residual amounts of a substance we’ve dubbed cadmium-x? It’s completely foreign to this planet, yet it has been found in the victims of every alien related murder this unit has ever investigated. Even more interestingly, according to your lab results, you too possess trace amounts of it, which makes you the only person on this planet that has been exposed to this unknown element and survived. It is because of this, that we are very interested to learn what effects cadmium-x has on a living human being.”


* * * * *


“Bring in the surgeons. This man will hurt you. This man will help you. Tell me what I need to know, and he will take the pain away.”

“Who’s inhuman now?”

“Open her up.”


* * * * *


Roswell, New Mexico: November 1st, 2000

Liz Parker awoke with a jolt, brown eyes frantically taking in her surroundings. Bookcase, desk, balcony…it’s my room, she soon realized. With a sigh of relief, she flopped back onto her mattress, “just a dream,” she muttered to the ceiling.

Shutting her eyes, the seventeen-year-old took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her frazzled nerves. When she opened them again, she focused her gaze on her nightstand. The giant red numbers of the digital clock that rested there read 7:45 PM. She must have fallen asleep after dinner, she couldn’t even remember lying down.

Turning back towards the ceiling, she tried to forget her nightmare and pretty much the last six months of her life. Failing miserably, it wasn’t long before her thoughts returned to the previous May, her time spent in the White Room, and the events that followed her rescue. Closing her eyes once more, Liz let the memories flood her mind.

Her first thoughts went to Kyle, who had nearly died that day trying to protect his father. If Max hadn’t been there to heal the younger Valenti…Liz shook off the horrific thought before it could be completed. Allowing herself a small smile, she recalled the talk she had had with the blue-eyed Buddhist shortly after his return from football camp.

“So, that what dying feels like, huh?”

“Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Not surprisingly, thinking of Kyle brought thoughts of Max. The boy, who had not only saved both their lives, but had changed them forever in a way neither could have possibly conceived of. The boy she had thought was her soul mate, her other half.

If she were to be honest, Liz would be forced to admit that she had always imagined their relationship would play out like something in one of those trashy romance novels Maria always secretly read, but pretended to hate. Boy loves girl, boy saves girl’s life, girl falls in love with boy, girl gets kidnapped by a secret government agency, boy rescues girl, love conquers all. Ridiculously simple, really.

Max, however, did not read trashy romance novels, nor did he know anyone who did and was willing to share the wisdom such tales contained. If he had, then he would have known that once they had been reunited that fateful day in May he was supposed to declare his undying love for her and promise nothing would ever keep them apart again.

Instead, her capture just strengthened his resolve that his very existence endangered her well being and had pretty much been avoiding her since then. What a crock. The FBI already knew who she was and had an interest in her that now went way beyond Max. Unfortunately, sharing this tidbit of information would mean telling Max, and subsequently the rest of the group, about the serum that Pierce had injected her with.

This, quite frankly, was not an option. It was bad enough that six months after the fact everyone was still giving her these pitying guilty looks when they thought she wasn’t looking, she didn’t need them staring at her like some sort of time bomb waiting to explode too.

The ringing of her cell phone pulled Liz from her musings. Grabbing it off her nightstand, she read “Maria calling” off the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hey girl, get your butt downstairs, we’re going out.” Without bothering to wait for a reply Maria disconnected the call.

It wasn’t long before Liz found herself riding shotgun in Mrs. DeLuca’s Jetta, with Maria behind the wheel and Alex in the back. Currently Alex was filling the girls in on his latest encounter with Isabel Evans.

“She gave me another one of those “Alex, you’re such a good friend” speeches,” the lanky boy was saying. “It made me want to puke.”

“Well, I have Michael Guerin,” Maria stated with absolute confidence. “He’s mine. You should have seen his face when he apologized to me. His eyes were practically begging me to take his sorry ass back. I have so landed him once and for all…” She furrowed her brow in contemplation, “I think.”

Liz rolled her eyes and looked out the window as the scenery passed them by. They had been driving for at least twenty minutes and Liz realized she had no idea where they were. Turning back towards her friend she asked, “Ria, where are you taking us anyway?”

“To a place where all our questions will finally be answered,” was Maria’s mysterious response as she eased the car to a stop in front of a modest two-story house. Climbing out of the passenger seat, Liz’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the bright neon sign hanging in the front window. She heard Alex groan beside her.

“A psychic?” he exclaimed. “You brought us to a psychic?”

“She’s a prophet,” Maria corrected as if there were a difference, “she’ll tell us where our future lies with our hybrid freaks. My mom lives her whole life based on her advice.”

If possible, Alex grew even more incredulous. “And this is a recommendation?”

Maria just ignored him and began making her way up the front walk, leaving Liz and Alex follow. A plump woman with curly black hair and lots of chunky jewelry greeted them at the door. She gestured for the girls to have a seat in the parlor, just off the foyer, while she led Alex through another doorway. Fifteen minutes later he returned looking rather dejected.

Maria eyed him attentively. “What’d she say?”

“Isabel and I will never have a carnal relationship. Oh, and you’re next.”

Giving Alex one more look, Maria squared her shoulders and marched into the next room with an air of certainty surrounding her. When she returned she looked utterly bewildered and kept muttering things to herself like, “volatile” and “forty-eight hours”.

Now Liz sat in the seat previously occupied by her two best friends, watching as Madam Vivian turned over tarot cards on the small round table between them.

“I have never seen cards fall like this before. The boy, he’s different”

Liz snorted derisively. “I noticed.”

“He’s very important, this boy. A leader.”

“Yeah, he has this whole other destiny,” Liz supplied, “one that doesn’t include me,” she finished bitterly.

Madam Vivian seemed to disagree. “No, he chooses love.”

“What?”

“He chooses you.”

Liz began shaking her head frantically back and forth, “no, no, no. See, that’s impossible--”

“The reading is clear,” Madam Vivian interrupted. Looking Liz dead in the eye she continued, “You marry your true love. You have happiness.” She tapped one of the cards on the table, “This card here?” she said, “intimacy, sex. You will not be left wanting.”

Liz could only blink.


* * * * *

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I wasn’t expecting such a big response from just one measly chapter, so it really means a lot. I’m glad many of you like my “White Room” twist, the whole idea came from Liz’s conversation with Nasedo in the car in “Max to the Max” and I ran with it.

All information in this chapter regarding Kingston, New Mexico can be found at ghosttowns.com.

Also, in this chapter you get a taste of what Liz’s signature power is going to be. I wanted to pay tribute to my favourite X-man, who unfortunately did not make an appearance in any of the recent movies, so I have him living on in Liz. Big props to anyone who can guess which mutant inspired me.


Chapter 2: Brave New World


Kingston, New Mexico: November 2nd, 2000

“Founded in 1882, Kingston started as a silver mining camp,” explained Mr. Sommers to his American History class as they stood outside the charred ruins of what was once a general store in the ghost town of Kingston. “By the end of that year,” he continued, “it was home to 1,800 people, eventually the number grew to be over 7,000. It is estimated that around $7 million in silver was mined, and in its heyday the town once boasted a theater, a brewery, 22 saloons, 14 groceries, 3 newspapers not to mention numerous gambling halls, restaurants, and hotels.”

“As you can see,” he said gesturing to the building behind him, “fires have destroyed many of the structures that once stood here, however, the Victorio Hotel and the Percha Bank still remain, as well as a few others. Earlier, you were all given maps outlining where everything stood over a century ago and since most of you are responsible young adults, I’m going to allow you to explore on your own. However, I want to remind you that although it is a far cry from what it used to be, Kingston is still the home to at least 30 permanent residents. That means you will behave yourselves and show the proper respect, and, just so we’re clear, if any one of you so much as puts a toe out of line, you’ll be spending the remainder of the trip with the bus driver.” Giving the class a smile he added, “have fun.”

Liz examined her map trying to decide where to start. Kyle, the only other member of the “I Know an Alien Club” in the class, was doing the same.

“Does anyone else see the irony of a brothel being on a street named virtue?” he questioned with a smirk.

Liz returned his grin with one of her own before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him down the street. “Come on, let’s do Main Street first, then we’ll check out the side roads.”

The pair wandered around most of the morning talking to a few of the locals, and taking pictures with Liz’s camera. She had used up most of the film at Isabel’s surprise party the week before and was now trying to finish the roll. The highlight of the day came when Kyle tripped and fell into a horse trough filled with water. Liz nearly peed her pants laughing at him, but still managed to snap a photograph of the incident for posterity. Kyle, for the most part, had tried his hardest to glare, but failed horribly.

Currently the two of them were sprawled across a giant flat rock near the entrance of the fire station trying to dry Kyle off in the sun. They engaged in idle chitchat, but it wasn’t long before the conversation turned towards the one thing that seemed to rule their lives. Aliens.

“So, any word from Nasedo?”

Liz shook her head in the negative. “No, not since Max contacted him last week about Whitaker. According to Max, he’s still trying to locate the Skins base of operations.”

“That must have been a kick to the nuts. Wasn’t he, like, doing her all summer?”

Liz rolled her eyes at her friend’s phrasing, but answered him anyway. “I believe the word he used was “diddling”, but yes, you would be correct in that assumption.”

A comfortable silence descended upon them as they watched their classmates trudge up and down Main Street, some entering the gift shop across the street where they could purchase mementos of their trip. But Liz’s thoughts weren’t on them, ghost towns, or even the latest alien crisis. They were on Madam Vivian and what she had said the night before. Did she and Max really have a chance? Was he finally going to come to his senses and realize they were meant for each other?

“You marry your true love. You have happiness. This card here? Intimacy, sex. You will not be left wanting.”

Liz could feel the heat rise to her face as she remembered that last bit. Her physical relationship with Max had never gone beyond kissing, although they had come close last February when she started getting flashes of the crash. Liz couldn’t help but find the thought of sharing such an intimate act with Max alluring, especially now that she had been given the indication that it would be most gratifying. Logically she knew she was basing this on the words of a psychic of all people, but she couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

“You feeling okay, Liz?” Kyle’s voice brought her back to the present. Looking over at him, she saw him staring at her with concern. “You look a little flushed.”

As if it were possible, Liz felt her face get even hotter. Jumping up from their rock, she began to stammer, “fine, fine, I’m just fine.” She gave a weak laugh before continuing, “the heat’s just getting to me. I’m just going to go see if that shop across the street sells drinks. You want one?”

“Uh, sure.” Kyle eyed her doubtfully, “are you sure you’re alright?”

Liz couldn’t help but find her friends concern endearing and, not for the first time, gave thanks that they had been able to move past their disastrous attempt at dating to become such good friends. Picking up her messenger bag off the ground she smiled, “I’m fine Kyle. I promise.” At his nod of acceptance she added, “If I’m not back in ten minutes, avenge death.”

Kyle grinned at the Simpson’s reference and watched Liz cross the street and disappear into the store. Fifteen minutes later she had yet to reappear. What’s taking so long? He wondered. Realizing she probably stopped to peruse the merchandise, Kyle decided it would be quicker if he got his own damn drink. Rising from his spot, he too made his way across Main Street.

Upon entering the store, Kyle glanced around for Liz. Not spotting her right away, he began making his way up and down the aisles. A few kids from school were in there and he asked some of them if they had seen Liz. All of them gave the same response: that they’d seen her earlier, but not since. Walking up to the front counter, Kyle questioned the elderly cashier if a short brunette with a messenger bag had purchased two drinks within the last twenty minutes.

“Pretty young thing, right?” Kyle nodded, trying not to gag. This dude was, like, old enough to be his grandfather. “Yeah, I remember her, she left about fifteen minutes ago.”

At this Kyle became alarmed. “What? Are you sure?” The cashier nodded. “Is there another way out of here?”

“Just the storm cellar in the basement, but no one’s allowed down there,” he replied giving the obviously agitated boy an odd look. “You okay, son?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Just fine,” Kyle answered distractedly. Giving the older man a weak smile he said, “thanks for the help,” before quickly exiting the store.

Once outside he decided to circle the building. Liz couldn’t have gone far, they were in the middle of nowhere for Buddha’s sake. She was probably messing with him. Trying to make him have a heart attack, or something. She just had to be. Then why didn’t you see her leave the store? A little voice in his head asked. You never took your eyes off the door.

“I am not going to panic, I am not going to panic,” Kyle began muttering to himself as he turned the corner only to stop dead in his tracks. There, on the ground, was what looked like a piece of snakeskin. It disintegrated as soon as he touched it.

Kyle paled.


* * * * *


Seattle, Washington: November 2nd, 2021

Liz gazed around the crowded street. Derelict buildings lined both sides, most of which looked as though they should be condemned. All the people scurrying past were either walking or riding bicycles, which made sense once she spotted the cars parked along the curb that seemed to be pissing rust. The sky was overcast and it was definitely colder than it had been five minutes ago.

Turning back towards the doorway she had just walked through, Liz saw that the cheesy gift shop she had just exited was no longer there. In its place stood a dirty looking diner that, most likely, had more rats than patrons. What the hell happened to New Mexico? Looking around once more, Liz had to do a double take when she caught sight of a tall structure in the distance. Was that the Space Needle?

Liz sighed. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind this whole situation was alien in nature. How could it not be? Things like this didn’t happen to normal people. On the plus side, she now knew where she was: Seattle, Washington. Now all she had to do was get home. Placing the two bottles of water she had just purchased in her bag, she whipped out her cell phone to call…Hmm, good question, who should she call?

Realizing Kyle was probably freaking over her disappearing act, she decided to call him first and let him know she was okay. He could then inform the rest of the group while she figured out a way back to Roswell…preferably before her parents noticed she was missing. It was a long shot, but she still held out hope since there was no way she’ll be able to explain this to them.

Looking down at the phone clenched in her hand, Liz frowned. Something was wrong. There was no connection, which made absolutely no sense. When she purchased the stupid thing she had made sure that it could be used anywhere in North America, why the hell wasn’t it working?

Spotting a payphone Liz hurried over, nearly colliding with someone who was buying a hot dog from a street vender, and plucked the receiver off it’s cradle. Ten minutes later she could only stare at the receiver in her hand. Closing her eyes, she released an unsteady breath. She had made collect calls to Kyle, Maria, Alex, Max and Sheriff Valenti. She had even tried reaching Michael, Isabel and, God help her, Tess. She had tried calling her parents both at home and at the Crashdown not caring that the punishment she would receive from them would be swift and severe. By this point Liz just wanted was to hear a familiar voice, even if it was the lecturing tone of her father, but all she got was the operator telling her that every one of the numbers she had recited were not in use. What was going on?

“I am not going to panic. I am not going to panic,” she whispered to herself. With shaking hands, Liz replaced the receiver and turned away from the payphone and ran right into a hard chest with enough force to cause her to stumble back a bit. Liz’s head snapped up and brown eyes met hazel.

He was young, early twenties probably, and had to be at least six feet tall if not taller. Somewhere in the back of her mind Liz heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Maria saying, “hello, Tasty McHottie.” Liz gave herself a mental shake. This was so not the time. Focusing, she realized the McHottie was speaking to her.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, tucking her long hair behind her ears. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement, “that much is obvious,” he stated and Liz couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or outright mocking her, but before she could question it he continued, “are you sure you’re okay? ‘Cause you look like you’re gonna puke.”

It was if a bucket of ice water hit her as Liz suddenly remembered where she was. “I-I gotta go,” she blurted out apologetically as she turned to scurry away.

* * * * *

Alec watched the petite girl, the same one who had nearly bowled him over at the hot dog vendor, as she disappeared into the crowd. He had to admit she was beautiful, if not a little jumpy. With a shrug he turned to walk in the opposite direction when something caught his eye. It was the payphone the girl had been using. The receiver was encased in a dark pinkish glow and seemed to be pulsating with energy.

Before he could even process what he was seeing, the entire thing exploded with enough force to knock him on his ass. Feeling something warm and sticky trickling down the side his face, Alec reached up to wipe it away. When he pulled his hand back, he saw it was smeared with his own blood.

Jumping to his feet, Alec tried to go after the girl, but the explosion had, understandably, caused mass panic amongst the people in the surrounding area and chaos ensued. There was no way he was going to catch her now. Realizing the sector cops would show up at any moment, he made a hasty retreat towards Terminal City.

He needed Max.

* * * * *

Author’s Note: Once again, thanks for the feedback, it’s been wonderful. Oh, and a HUGE shout out to those of you who guessed that Gambit was my muse for Lizzie girl’s powers.

This chapter is mostly back-story, although the first half does have Liz starting to connect the dots.


* * * * *


Chapter 3: The Emerald City


Seattle, Washington (Sector 5): November 2nd, 2021

Liz faltered at the explosion behind her. She hesitated for the briefest of moments before giving herself a mental shake. She had her own problems. She just couldn’t understand why her cell phone wouldn’t work or why the phones in Roswell were out of service.

Something was wrong. She could feel it.

It wasn’t a feeling that could be named exactly, like one would describe being happy or sad…but ever since she arrived in Seattle she’d been overwhelmed with this feeling of…wrongness.

Not that teleporting across the country in a blink of an eye was normal by any means, but Liz couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it than that. Maria would have called it woman’s intuition. Liz preferred to think of it as instinct. Either way something wasn’t right here.

She had walked a good six blocks before she really began to assess her situation. She was alone, in a strange city, and completely unable to contact anyone who could possibly help her. What she needed was a plan. Her first priority, obviously, was getting to Roswell.

Already knowing she couldn’t afford a plane ticket, flying home was regrettably crossed off the list. That meant she could either take a bus or steal a car. Snort. Like she even knew how to steal a car.

Bus it is, she decided. Now all I have to do is find the Bus Station. Stopping at one of those newspaper/magazine/cigarette stand things, Liz asked for directions.

The man working the stand was in his mid-forties, with a full head of dark hair that stuck out in all directions and a thick mustache. He was big, burly, and had the hairiest arms Liz had ever seen that didn’t belong to a gorilla.

“The Bus Station?” he was saying, and Liz had to fight to concentrate on his words and not his sasquatch like arms. At her nod he continued, “yeah, it’s over in Sector 6, about four and a half blocks from South Market, on Stewart Street. You can’t miss it.”

Liz smiled apologetically, “I’m sorry I’m not from around here, so everything you just said means nothing to me.” Looked down, she got an idea. Plucking a newspaper off the nearest stack, she fished a pen out of her bag. “Here,” she said handing both items to the Sasquatch, “I’ll buy a newspaper, if you could please just write down what I need to know.”

As Liz watched Sasquatch jot down the information on the back page of the paper she was relieved to note he was writing more than just “South Market” and “Stewart Street”. They were real, honest to goodness directions. Fishing a couple of dollars out of her wallet, Liz paid the man, grabbed her paper, gave her thanks and continued past.

Stepping into a nearby alley, but staying within shouting distance of the street, she leaned against the brick wall and studied Sasquatch’s cramped, but otherwise neat handwriting. Surprisingly, he had even included a little map. Needless to say, Liz was most impressed.

Now she kinda felt bad for christening him “Sasquatch”, even if that’s what he was.

Memorizing the directions as best she could, Liz flipped the newspaper over to look at the front page. New World Weekly, she read. A tabloid rag from the looks of it. Shrugging, she was about to place it in her bag when something caught her eye. It was the date printed on the front page or, more specifically, the year -- it read 2021.

That couldn’t be right.

Logically, she knew it had to be a typo. But, at the same time she couldn’t ignore that feeling that something was seriously wrong with this city. Whether it was woman’s intuition or instinct she didn’t know, but one thing was for sure -- someone was fucking with her.

Stuffing the newspaper in her bag, Liz ducked out of the alley and made her way back to the newsstand. Luckily, Sasquatch was too busy dealing with a customer over the price of tobacco to notice she was back. Scanning all the papers and magazines on display, she could once again feel the onset of panic begin to swell in her chest. They all said the same thing: 2021.

Picking up a magazine, Liz realized her hands were shaking. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths, much like she would after awaking from one of her nightmares.

There has to be some sort of mistake, she told herself. There is no way that date’s right. I must be suffering from temporary numerical dyslexia or something and when I look again it’ll say 2000 and not 2021.

Opening her eyes, Liz gasped. Something had changed all right, only it wasn’t the date. Not only did the magazine still read 2021, it was now throbbing with a dark pink glow. Dropping it like a hot potato, Liz hurried away from the stand, back towards the alley. The blast happened just as she rounded the corner.

Once again leaning against the wall, she stared at her hands as if she expected them to be glowing like the magazine. Now, Liz had always considered herself to be smarter than the average bear, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that this explosion and the one she’d heard earlier were most likely connected.

Figures, she thought miserably, of all the times my powers could have manifested, it had to be now. Like this day wasn’t bad enough.

Memories from her time in the White Room danced in her mind. Idly, she wondered if the serum was completely to blame or would she have developed powers eventually regardless of what Pierce did to her. Guess she’d never know.

Liz peeked around the corner; partly out of concern to the damage she may have caused, but mostly terrified that she may have hurt someone. In retrospect she figured dropping an alien powered object and running away probably wasn’t such a good idea. So it was relief to find Sasquatch and the irate tobacconist unharmed. Although the former looked pretty pissed off, but who could really blame him?

Liz could see that even though the newsstand was, for lack of a better term, still standing, the supercharged magazine had blown up a few stacks of newspapers. This, of course, started a fire, which Sasquatch was currently trying to put out while cursing up a storm.

Guilt rose in Liz’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Sasquatch was an okay kind of guy, he had helped her out when he didn’t have to. He didn’t deserve to have his business blown up.

Suddenly Liz remembered the McHottie from earlier and her guilt multiplied tenfold. That explosion had sounded bigger than this one and he would have been right there when it happened -- not to mention all those other people. Oh God...what if she killed someone?

She had to get out of Seattle.


* * * * *


Terminal City (Sector 7): November 2nd, 2021

Terminal City or TC as it was more often referred to, consisted of about twenty square blocks located on the north side of Sector 7. When terrorists released an electromagnetic pulse over the west coast United States in 2009 the power failure that followed caused a few of the biotech labs in the area to lose containment, releasing various bio-warfare agents into the air. The City couldn’t afford the cost of cleaning up the biohazard and opted to simply seal off the area instead.

It’s on record that the average human can linger in TC for roughly seven, maybe eight, hours consecutively before the air born toxins begin to affect their immune system. Seattle’s Transgenic community however did not have this problem. Being genetically engineered bio-weapons had its uses and possessing an immunity to common bio-agents was one of them.

This was what made TC the ideal refuge for the several hundred Transgenics who escaped Manticore after it had been destroyed. So ideal in fact that it took City Officials nearly a year to even realize that there were enough Transgenics to constitute them as a community. It probably would have taken them longer too if it hadn’t been for the so-called “Jam Pony Hostage Crisis” last spring.

Another advantage of living in Terminal City was that it made an excellent stronghold. This was proven when TC’s genetically empowered residents decided that they were tired of running, tired of hiding away from the world. Manticore made them with funding from the American government and it was time the American government owned up to what they sanctioned. But, like most things worth fighting for, it hadn’t been easy.

Once the Seattle PD had discovered an entire coalition of Transgenics living in their own backyard, it didn’t take long for them to call in the National Guard to assist in keeping TC under siege. The standoff lasted 36 days; both sides trying to wait the other out, neither willing to back down. Eventually a tentative truce was made when it was agreed the gated community and it’s residents would be recognized as somewhat of a sovereign nation, much like Vatican City in Rome -- only with a complete absence of religion.

There were two key factors that played in favour of the Manticore soldiers during this time. The first was that they had managed to avoid a bloodbath during the unfortunate -- but none the less unavoidable -- hostage situation at Jam Pony. The second was the surprisingly positive press they received.

It was finally decided that the Manticore refugees could remain in Seattle under two conditions. One was that they had to live under the martial law that had ordained Emerald City since the Pulse hit, the other was that they could only reside within TC itself.

This meant that while Transgenics were free venture outside of their sanctuary to work or shop or what have you, they couldn’t have an apartment or house or any other type of living quarters outside of Terminal City. It didn’t seem like much, but it was a start and the fight was far from over.

Since then the National Guard had been called off and the threat of the U.S. Army was long gone. The police, however, were still stationed outside the gates round the clock. Not so much as to keep the freaks in, more like to keep the angry protestors out. Apparently not everyone in Seattle was pro-Transgenic. Go figure.

Whacked out demonstrators were the least of Alec’s worries however as he opened the heavy steel door that led to TC’s Control Center. He was more concerned with little Miss Katie Ka-boom over in Sector 5. Stepping over the threshold, he paused for a moment scanning the room’s occupants.

Formerly a large warehouse, the control room consisted of two sections, upper and lower. The upper section was nothing more than a raised platform reached by a flight of six metal steps, which housed an array of security monitors used to oversee activity inside and outside perimeter of Terminal City.

The lower section was divided into three distinct areas: The front left held the armory, where all the weapons and ammo were stored. The front right held another cluster of video monitors and tv screens used to keep an eye on both local and national media. The back of the room held a large conference table used for TC council meetings. Most of the table was covered with Sector maps, while a single oversized map of Terminal City hung on a nearby wall.

It was here that Alec spotted his quarry in the midst of a conference with a TC resident known as Mole. As he made his way across the room, there wasn’t a doubt in Alec’s mind that his two friends were planning another jacking.

Terminal City was an expensive operation, costing much more than the average paycheck could afford -- even if every Transgenic living within the compound had a job, which they didn’t. So, in order to make ends meet, it wasn’t unusual for a group to go out and liberate some of Seattle’s gangsters and drug dealers of their weapons and money. Yeah, it was illegal and went against their truce with the Ordinaries, but they only stole from bad guys which, in a round about way, made it okay.

Max was the first to notice Alec’s approach. A fellow X5, Max was a couple years younger than Alec and the first real friend he ever made. She had dark hair, an athletic build and enjoyed nothing more than threatening to bounce Alec on his bitch ass. Although it had been a good three and a half months since she’s made good on that threat.

Mole on the other hand was older with a lizard-like appearance. The Lizard Man had been part of the desert ops program at Manticore and was rarely seen without a high-powered assault rifle slung over his shoulder and a half-smoked cigar clamped between his teeth.

Eyeing the dried blood on Alec’s face and his scorched hoodie Max sighed, “What did you do now?”


* * * * *

Author’s Note: Well, this is it for me. Tomorrow I’m off to Europe and that means no updates for a while. I wish this chapter could be longer, but alas, it was not meant to be. Don’t forget to review and I’ll see y’all in a few weeks.


Chapter 4: Time to Regroup


Terminal City (Sector 7): November 2nd, 2021

“Think she’s Manticore?” Max asked as she cleaned the cut at Alec’s temple with antiseptic and a q-tip.

Alec winced at the slight sting. Max just rolled her eyes in response. The two of them along with Mole were seated around the conference table in the control center, Alec having just finished recounting his meeting with Katie Ka-boom -- as he had taken to calling the pretty brunette he had encountered earlier.

“It’s possible,” Alec hesitated, “but I’ve never heard of anyone with the ability to blow things up with a touch.”

“Me either,” Mole added. “Why would she blow up a payphone anyway?”

Alec could only shrug as he watched Max put the antiseptic and unused q-tips back in the first-aid kit. He had asked himself that very same question.

“Whatever the reason, it needs to stop,” Max stated. “In case you’ve forgotten we’re still trying to prove to the Ordinaries we’re not complete menaces. If this girl is a transgenic, she can’t be going around detonating things.”

“I’ll head back to Sector 5, see if I can track her,” Alec volunteered.

Max nodded her agreement. “I’ll go see Logan,” she offered, “maybe he’s heard something.”

“And I’ll stay hear and listen to the police scanner, just in case Alec’s little girlfriend decides to blow anything else up.” Mole finished ignoring Alec’s scowl.

* * * * *

Seattle, Washington (Sector 5): November 2nd, 2021

Getting out of Seattle was turning out to be more difficult than Liz originally anticipated. She had thought it was simply a matter of getting to the bus station, charging a one-way ticket to Roswell on her Visa and being on her merry way. Turns out the Powers That Be did not do simple.

A guy at the checkpoint separating Sectors 5 and 6 explained it to her when she asked why everybody was lining up. Liz got the feeling he thought she was a little crazy with all her questions about things that she could only assume were supposed to be common knowledge, but she couldn’t have cared less. Her problems just kept growing today and one bike messenger’s opinion of her hardly mattered.

Now, the way Liz understood it, Seattle had been placed under martial law after something called the Pulse, causing the city to be divided into various sectors, which required official documentation to pass between. Not only that, but since the whole city was locked down, one also needed permission to both enter and leave Seattle.

Having temporarily put her time displacement issue on the back burner, Liz was quick to realize that without the proper documents needed to leave the city, her stay in Seattle would be much longer than planned.

This was why she was currently sandwiched between an old refrigerator and some broken crates in yet another alleyway. If she had to stay in Seattle, she needed to regroup and go over her resources…which consisted of whatever was in her messenger bag.

Sadly, it wasn’t much.

She had the newspaper she bought from Sasquatch, a notebook, two bottles of water, her wallet, her broken cell phone, a set of house keys, two pens, her camera, a deck of cards, an apple, and her zip up hoodie -- which she wasted no time putting on.

Opening her wallet, she took a quick inventory of its contents. She had her driver’s license, her bankcard, her Visa, her West Roswell High student ID, an old movie stub, and $37.53 in cash. Liz frowned. It wasn’t much to work with.

Considering the year she was in, her bankcard and credit card were pretty useless -- each one having expired some time ago. Besides which, Liz didn’t even know if anyone living in 2021 still used plastic money. Her driver’s license was just as useless, not only because it too had expired but also because it had her date of birth on it which clearly stated she had been born in 1983. Not something you want to go waving around after traveling two decades into the future. Her student ID and movie stub were, quite simply, garbage…which left her with less than $40 in cash as her only financial asset.

Stuffing everything back in her wallet and placing it back in her bag, Liz made a mental list of what she needed. A place to sleep for one, it was already getting dark out and she couldn’t very well wander the streets all night, could she? And, unless she was planning on never leaving Sector 5, she would also need one of those sector pass things she had seen, not to mention she needed to figure out how to go about getting permission to leave the city.

A motel would cost money, at least more money than what she could afford, as would a sector pass most likely. It was only a question of how she would go about getting it. She didn’t have a job so earning the money via “an honest day’s work” was out of the question, so that left armed robbery or prostitution. Okay, so maybe she was being a bit ridiculous.

Liz’s stomach growled reminding her to add food to her growing list of needful things. Until then she would have to make do with her apple. Grabbing it out of her bag, she held it up for inspection and made a face. Ugh, yellow. Liz hated yellow apples. For once it would be nice if her mom could remember to buy the green ones.

Taking a bite, she nearly spit it back out. Looking at the piece of fruit again, her eyes widened. It was green.

And it wasn’t just the color that changed; it actually tasted like a green apple too. Touching the sleeve of her hoodie, Liz willed it to go from light gray to bright yellow and was amazed when it did. Quickly changing it back, Liz couldn’t help the silly grin that crossed her face.

She could manipulate molecules.

Devouring her now scrumptious apple, Liz chucked the core down the alley before once again fishing her wallet out of her bag. Removing her bills she noted she had a 20, two 5’s, and seven one’s. Deciding to keep the 20 as it was, she changed both 5’s into 50’s and 3 of the one’s into 100’s.

Holding up one of the hundreds for inspection, a part of her knew what she had just done was illegal, but Liz reasoned that it was all a matter of survival and as long as she didn’t do it too often it was okay. Quickly re-counting her cash, she smiled. Now for a sector pass.

This, Liz knew, would be a tad harder to accomplish. Changing money was easy because she knew what fifty and hundred-dollar bills were supposed to look and feel like. Unfortunately, the only sector pass she had seen had been hanging round that bike messenger’s neck and even then she hadn’t inspected it, just merely glanced at it. She was beginning to wish she had paid closer attention.

Carefully placing her money back into her wallet, she put it in her bag and removed her notebook. Ripping out a page, she carefully folded it so that it was roughly the size of a sector pass. Holding the paper in her hand, Liz closed her eyes and tried to visualize what that pass she had seen earlier looked like. She knew it was made out of white plastic and focused on that for now.

Almost instantly she felt her hand warm up. Opening her eyes she saw her hand was now emitting a familiar dark pink glow, but unlike at the newspaper stand it was not pulsating. She watched in awe as the paper shifted and rippled until it conformed to her will.

Looking over her work, Liz frowned. It was too glossy. Again closing her eyes, she now concentrated on giving the card more of a matte finish. She was so absorbed in her task she didn’t even notice the other presence until it spoke.

“Wow, you’ve got all sorts of tricks up your sleeve, don’t cha?”

Liz’s eyes snapped open and brown met hazel for the second time that day. It was Tasty McHottie. Liz was so surprised she didn’t even realize she was speaking until the words had already left her mouth.

“You’re okay.”

“Don’t look too surprised.”

He casually leaned against the wall opposite her, arms folded across his chest, seemingly completely at ease. Liz flushed as she scrambled to her feet. She fidgeted awkwardly under his gaze, mentally berating herself for already getting caught using her powers. It took less than three hours. How pathetic was that?

His choice of words wasn’t lost on her either. He had said, “tricks,” as in plural. That implied he knew she was the one responsible for that first explosion, or at least suspected she was. They regarded each other silently for a few moments before he spoke again.

“So…what cha making?” he asked amiably with a nod towards the plastic card still clenched in her fist.

Startled, Liz looked at the card then back at him, clearly surprised by the question.

“I was trying to make a sector pass.” She could easily lie, but really what was the point? He had already seen her use her powers. Twice.

“Having trouble?”

Liz just stared. What was wrong with this guy? She basically just admitted to trying to pull a sector pass out of her ass and he was acting like they were discussing the weather.

“Um, yeah, a bit.” He stared at her expectantly and she realized he was waiting for her to elaborate. “I need to be able to visualize the object I’m trying to create, I’ve never seen a sector pass up close, so…”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. He studied her for a moment before slowly pushing himself off the wall. Stepping closer, he reached into his pocket. Liz watched his movements carefully; visibly relaxing when she realized he was handing her a sector pass.

She eyed him speculatively. He was obviously offering his own pass as some sort of template for her to use, but she also realized there was an underlying request to see her use her powers. Hesitantly, she plucked the card out of his hand and took a step back. Turning it over, she examined it carefully, committing every detail to memory.

With his sector pass in one hand and her own in the other, Liz closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she focused her thoughts, desperately trying to ignore the feel of the stranger’s intense gaze on her face. She inwardly smiled at the warmth that enveloped her hands whenever she used her powers. She was finding it to be rather soothing.

A quiet gasp reminded Liz she wasn’t alone and she reluctantly opened her eyes. She busied herself with inspecting her work, painfully aware of her companion’s scrutiny. So focused on avoiding eye contact, she didn’t even realize he had moved from his spot a few feet away until his low voice spoke directly in her ear.

“Can I…?”

Liz looked up at him, startled by his sudden close proximity. It took a moment for her brain to process what he was saying. Silently she handed over both sector passes. He studied both, comparing them, looking for the tiniest defect. Eventually, he handed her one and pocketed the other. Liz nodded her thanks and shoved it into her bag, which she then slung across her chest.

The McHottie raked a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “That was – that was amazing,” he finally said.

Liz didn’t know what to say. This was new territory for her, so she was unfamiliar with the proper etiquette expected in situations like this.

Apparently he wasn’t expecting a response because he began speaking again. “I’m Alec by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

Liz blinked. She had not been expecting that. Then again, nothing about today was turning out the way she expected. Shrugging, she took his proffered hand in a firm handshake.

“Liz.”

A/N: I'm finally posting a new chapter. I guess miracles really do happen, huh? Thanks to my readers for being so patient and supportive. You guys rock.

This chapter's kinda short, but it was a bitch to complete nonetheless. Nothing about it resembles what I had originally outlined in my notes. Ain't that always the way?


* * * * *


Chapter 5: Roll with It


Seattle, Washington (Sector 5): November 2nd, 2021

“So, what are you?” Alec asked. Okay, so maybe he could have demonstrated a bit more tact with his questioning, but he had never been one to beat around the bush. Liz glared.

Unperturbed, he went on, “I’m a Transgenic,” he said conversationally.

“What’s a Transgenic?”

Alec gaped at her. Of all the reactions he was expecting, this was definitely not one of them. “Are you serious?” he asked incredulously.

Liz flushed and looked away mumbling something that sounded like, “Forget I asked.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I thought--” Alec paused and shook his head slightly, “never mind.” He gave her an amazed look, “don’t you watch the news?” he asked.

“I’m a bit behind,” was the dry response.

He sighed, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. “Simply put, Trangenics are super-soldiers; engineered by splicing human and animal DNA. The idea was to isolate the strengths of different species and then meld them together.”

Liz tensed and took a step back, eyeing him wearily. “Soldiers? As in you work for the government?”

Alec frowned at her odd behaviour. “Uh, no. The project was funded by diverting tax dollars, the government had no idea of our existence until recently.”

If it were at all possible, Liz tensed even more. Alec was confused. He had expected her to be wary, but not about this.

“So, who do you work for?” It was obvious the reply she received would define her opinion of him.

“I’m a bike messenger.”

She just stared.

“A bike messenger?” she echoed; then promptly burst out laughing.

Alec scowled. “What’s the big deal? After the project was shut down we were let out of our cages and put out into the world. A guy’s got to make a living, you know. Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about you, not me.”

Now it was her turn to scowl. “I’m human,” she bit out.

Alec gave her a skeptical look. “So are Familiars.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she exclaimed, bewildered.

He brushed her off, “never mind. Why’d you blow up that payphone -- and the newsstand?”

Liz cringed. “Those were accidents. I didn’t even realize--” she stopped. “How do you know about the newsstand?”

Alec shrugged not wanting to explain the phone call he had gotten from Mole while he had been out searching for her. “Two explosions, in the same sector, less than an hour apart? It wasn’t hard to make the connection.”

Embarrassed, she looked away. “Yeah, um, I don’t exactly have control of that particular power yet.”

“Why not? You seem to have pretty good control over that other one. That sector pass you made was tight.”

Liz shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. For some reason manipulating molecules is easy, but blowing stuff up? Not so much.” She sighed. “It’s like one minute I’m reading a magazine; the next, things are glowing that shouldn’t be.”

“You didn’t always have these powers? You weren’t born with them?” She shook her head. “Then how’d you get them?” He saw something flicker in her eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came, and for the briefest of moments he almost regretted asking the question. Almost.

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” was the curt reply.

Alec blinked. Was she implying that these powers had been forced on her?

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

Alec studied her a moment before deciding to drop the matter...for now.

“So, how long have you had them, then?”

Liz gave a strangled laugh and looked at her watch, “Oh, a bit over three hours now.”

Alec’s jaw dropped. “What?!” he sputtered. “You’re joking, right?”

“I wish.”

“How many do you have?”

“Just the two,” she paused, “well, that I know of at least.”

“You know, for someone who just discovered they can blow things up with a touch, you don’t seem at all freaked out by it.” Alec observed.

“Yeah well, generally speaking, while my powers are completely unwelcome, they were not entirely unexpected.” The bitterness in her voice was blatant.

“You’d rather not have them?” Alec was surprised. Most people would kill for her abilities, especially in a city like Seattle.

She snorted. “Hardly. I was perfectly happy the way I was, thanks.”

Again Alec was surprised; this time by the sudden sympathy he felt for the girl before him. He rarely felt sympathetic towards anyone, least of all strangers. He was usually too self-absorbed for that sort of thing.

Wanting to lighten the mood, he smirked, “you gotta admit though, that whole counterfeiting thing you do is pretty sweet.” He was pleased to see a ghost of a smile grace her lips.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

“You know with my connections we could make a lot of money selling fake Sector Passes on the Black Market, not to mention passports and birth certificates,” Alec offered only half joking. This time he was rewarded with a real smile.

She pretended to think it over. “Tempting, but I’ll have to pass. Right now I need to figure out how I’m going to get boarder papers and get to Roswell.”

“What’s in Roswell?”

“There may be people there who can help me.”

“With your powers?”

“Amongst other things,” she muttered.

“So, what are you doing in Seattle?”

Liz’s face scrunched up in confusion, “I’m not really sure to be honest. I sort of…found myself here.”

“I know the feeling,” he replied thinking back to his own arrival in Seattle a little over a year ago.

“I doubt that.” The finality of the statement booked no room for argument.

Alec’s brow furrowed, but didn’t comment. He simply filed it away for later and instead offered to help her get faked boarder papers.

“You can do that?”

Alec smirked. “I can do anything. Of course, it’ll cost ya.”

Liz eyed him suspiciously. “Cost what, exactly?”

“Oh, about $500,” was the nonchalant reply.

“$500?!” Liz sputtered loudly, “for a stupid piece of paper? Are you crazy?”

Alec shrugged. “Counterfeits can cost five times that much if you’re looking for quality, but I figure, what’s the point? You shouldn’t have any trouble cleaning them up.”

“Oh, so because they’ll be crappy forgeries, I’m getting a deal? Well, that makes it better.” Liz said sarcastically. “Look, I don’t have $500. I don’t even know if I have enough for a bus ticket, not to mention I still have to find a place to sleep and I’m pretty sure that if I don’t find something to eat soon, my stomach will eat itself. So, thanks, but no thanks.”

“Unless you want to be in Seattle for weeks, possibly months, you don’t have any other choice ‘cause that’s how long it’ll take you to get papers through the proper legal channels.” Alec tilted his head slightly, “assuming you have all the required documents needed to apply in the first place that is.”

Liz faltered.

“Look,” Alec coaxed, “Why don’t we talk about this later? You said you haven’t eaten yet, right? Let’s grab a bite.”

For a moment it looked like Liz would refuse, but hunger must have won out because she reluctantly nodded and fell in step. As they made their way out of the alley she spoke.

“Why are you helping me? You don’t even know me.”

Alec shrugged. “I’m bored.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Why are you letting me help you?”

Now it was Liz’s turn shrug. “Today has probably been the strangest day of my life,” she confessed. “Nothing’s turned out the way it was supposed to or the way I wanted it to, so instead of fighting it, I’ve decided to just roll with it.”

“Let me know how that works out for you.”