Roswell Fanatics

Title: Off the Battlefield

Author: Mac

Disclaimer: The characters of “Roswell” belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.

Pairings& category: Will be M/L eventually, and the rest of the couples will most probably be CC as well, but I’ll cover my bases and not guarantee anything other than a Max/Liz pairing. This is an Alternate Universe with Aliens story.

Rating: Mature, just again to cover my bases as there may be violence and mild sexual situations in future.

Summary: Liz Parker has lived her life on a battlefield; it is there she has endured her greatest losses and there she has had her greatest victories. She knows no other life. And when she sacrifices herself to end the turmoil that has raged for longer than she has been alive on her planet, the turmoil in her own life has only just begun… Only this time it isn’t on the battlefield, this time she is on entirely unfamiliar ground.



Special thanks to Amelie... an amazing friend who made this fabulously beautiful banner especially for me despite the fact that she has never watched or read Roswell... you are a star!!! Also to bettylove8 without whom I could not have posted this banner because I'm technologically challenged... you're a sweetheart and I send huge thank you's and lots of chocolate your way!

Authors Note: This is my first Roswell story, so I’m a little nervous about it. I don’t have a whole lot of writing or life experience, which may show… hopefully this hasn’t been too much to my disadvantage. I would really appreciate any feedback; constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated as I believe it helps me to grow. There is a Sci-Fi type element to this story which is also extremely new to me, I generally have a seriously overactive imagination but it has never really ventured too much into the world of Sci-Fi. If anything therefore seems unrealistic or just plain silly, please tell me! Otherwise… enjoy!

Prologue
Roswell, Earth 2100

The scorched earth blackened her small bare feet as they made their hesitant path through the bodies. She stumbled and grazed a knee, but pushed herself back onto shaky legs, and smudged dirt across her cheek as she tried to wipe away a tear. She was scared, and she couldn’t find her mommy.

He walked, upright and grim, through the town-turned-battlefield that had seen the Antarians latest strike. Polished boots crunched with every step on the baked desert earth, and military stoicism contrasted sharply with the raw grief expressed by the civilians around him. His measured gaze surveyed the damage the Antarians had wrought until it fell upon her.

Her dark tangled hair formed a halo around her face, and through the smoke he could see her chin trembling. It was her eyes that really drew him to her, big brown wells of tears, so full of helplessness and confusion, but so brave at the same time. As he watched a single tear streaked through the dirt on her cheek before she sniffed and brushed at it with a grubby hand. She was maybe five years old, standing in the middle of the battlefield looking like a fallen angel in her short white dress.

He strode towards her, stepping over countless faceless corpses, and knelt down in front of her. She looked up at him, her face scrunching with the effort of holding her tears at bay and in a shaky voice that he barely heard said;

“Where’s my mommy?”

“I don’t know,” he replied in a voice that was not unkind, but had clearly never been used to speak to a child. “She may be dead.” At this her chin again began to quiver, and the good sergeant was made aware that this was possibly not the right thing to say.

“Stop crying,” He told her earnestly, “you’re fine now, and you can come with me.” She sniffed a few times and then nodded her head, so he awkwardly picked her up and carried her away from the battlefield that had once been her home and that was now littered with many thousands of bodies including her mothers.

“What’s your name?”

“Liz”

“I’m Sergeant Parker, Liz, and I’m going to take care of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Human temporary base camp, Nevada desert, Earth, 2114

Lieutenant Liz Parker strode through the bodies in what had once been a thriving military community, searching for movement. Casualties of war were rare in the wake of the Antarians technology, but not non-existent. She swiped her sweaty palms across her fatigues, and prayed for this to go quicker, so she could give her report back, go back to her own camp, and curl up on her palate away from all this death.

Because Liz Parker had grown up on a battle field, and her young eyes had seen much too much death already.

For an hour and a half she walked among the dead; bending to check pulses, swivelling at the slightest noise to find not a survivor, but someone’s untouched tray of rations blown to the ground, or an unzipped tent flap fluttering in the breeze. When she had systematically gone through the entire camp, she closed her eyes, and bit her bottom lip, willing away the tears that threatened to fall.

There had not been one. No man or woman spared, and she hated that every time she did this she allowed herself to hope that perhaps she would be able to bring someone back, only to have that hope destroyed. It was always the same afterwards, the feeling of complete hopelessness, and powerlessness. Even if there were survivors there were never enough. Every person she saw dead should be alive; the hollow eyes that haunted her dreams should be sparkling with life and emotion.

Liz bent over and retched, then shook her head disgustedly at herself; this was nothing that she hadn’t seen a thousand times before, in fact she had helped to cause similar scenes for their enemies, yet every time it got to her. She stood ram-rod straight again and strode purposefully away from the destruction into the surrounding dessert. She took a deep cleansing breath of air that was untainted by the smell of burnt flesh, pulled out her com-pod and pressed her thumb to the activation point that would scan her fingerprint.

“Command, this is Lieutenant Parker requesting transport from site 10067 to headquarters.”

“Request granted,” Said the tinny voice over the speaker. “Any survivors for the med-bay?”

“Negative”

“Copy that, transport for one coming your way.”

The red light that signified the termination of communications flashed on the surface of her pod, and she stuck it back in her pocket and glanced around for the thin disc of metal that would materialize to transport her to the human headquarters to give her report. After a minute or so she heard the tell-tale buzz that always preceded materialization of a depot point, and walked to it when it appeared a few metres away from her. Stepping on to it, she announced her name and rank, and waited for the sensors to do the necessary voice recognition and image scans, as well as check her heat signature. A mechanical “Identity confirmed” came from the machine, and Liz clearly enunciated “Ready for transport” before she was whipped away without further thought into the void.

Liz had always hated this form of transport; in the few seconds it took to get almost anywhere on earth you couldn’t breath, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t see, there was nothing but the deafening roar that made your ears ring for hours afterwards, and the excruciating pain that came with having your molecules compressed into almost nothing, hurled across a planet and then rearranged on the other end.

Some people would step off of the depot discs looking for all the world as if they had just stepped out of a day spa. Liz Parker was not one of them. On her arrival at headquarters she bent over double gasping for breath, her body wracked with hacking coughs.

“Graceful as ever, aren’t we Parker?”

Kyle always seemed to take a perverse sense of glee from seeing her in this condition. He had been a friend of hers since childhood, the only other child she’d been able to interact with for years in point of fact. After Jeff Parker had adopted her she had gone to live with him at a military base in New Mexico, Jim Valenti had been one of the brass there and the single father of a six year old boy. Together Liz and Kyle had been the only two kids for miles around, and had paired up for lack of other companionship. Two years later Jim had married single mother Amy Deluca and Liz’s life had been greatly improved by the companionship of 7 year old Maria. Not long after that the Whitman’s had relocated to the base when Mrs (or Doctor) Whitman was offered a job in the infirmary, and their little circle was enlarged to include Alex.

The four of them had grown up together, constantly in each others company, getting up to mischief as only kids can in the military facility they called home. Kyle was like a brother to her, and when he made smart-ass comments as he had moments before, it made it all the more easy to loathe him.

Liz straightened up, shot Kyle a venomous glare (which he only laughed at) and then strode off into the heart of the base with as much dignity as she could muster.

The human headquarters was a dingy underground building that could have been anywhere for all anyone knew, the only way to get to it was via depot disc, and the only people on earth who knew its physical location were the very highest ranking military officials. Her father was one of them, and it was to him that she was now to report.

He sat in one of the many uniform and depressing rooms that made up this section of the base. It was one of the few wings that Liz was familiar with, as it was often used for report backs, possibly for the reason that it was quickly and easily accessible from the transport bay, and didn’t give low ranking officials such as herself the excuse to snoop around the maze of passages that made up the rest of the base. Liz herself could attest to the fact that it was a maze of passages because although she may not know what went on in the many hundreds of rooms they contained, she had managed at the tender age of 14 to get lost looking for her father when he had made the fatal error of bringing her along for lack of anywhere else to take her (because he may not have been the best father, but he was not going to leave her in the middle of a battle to be caught in the crossfire.)

Her father looked tired and grim, as usual, as he sat with a panel of equally grim faced military personnel. All of them had translator tubes running into their left ears to enable them to understand her and each other, Liz herself was fitted with one on her arrival in case they needed to ask questions. They were a diverse bunch, men and women of every race and every walk of life, forced together by the common goal of defending their planet.

Liz did not remember a time when countries were at war with each other, when it mattered if you were black, white or purple, when it was almost always men in positions of power, or when those in power made up governments. After over 70 years of war on Earth none of this mattered, because everything was far too different now.

Under the strain of war with a distant planet they knew almost nothing about, governments had collapsed and military control had ensued. In the fight for survival unity had become the only option; race, gender, age and nationality became irrelevant, every human was a citizen of Earth and therefore they were all allies fighting a common, alien enemy. The armed forces of every country had been forced to band together, and now they fought side by side and civilians lived side by side. Earth had become a global community.

Perhaps, Liz thought, it was the sole good thing to have come out of the war that had been waged since before the births of most of Earths citizens.

The report back went quickly, Liz was nothing if not efficient, and she had done her job well. She rattled off the facts in a detached manner; the body count, the damage to the base, the weapons recovered, the air toxin levels, the results of preliminary autopsies and the list went on. She had done it so many times before and this was the easy part, this was just the facts and figures. It was too easy to detach yourself from all the death when it was only a number. She wondered how many of the people in the room with her had ever had to evaluate the aftermath of an Antarian strike. She supposed too many, after all, these people wouldn’t have risen to their rank without seeing things.

When she had answered all their questions she was dismissed. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She pulled the translation tube out of her ear and threw it into the sterilization bin next to the door, then hurried back down the corridor to the transport bay. She was almost at the front of the outgoing dep discs line when some fresh faced kid right out of training informed her that General Parker requested her presence back in the report rooms. She resisted the urge to snap at him, and made her way back down the corridor, her body tense, her steps quick, barely suppressed rage coming off her in waves as the corporal scurried after her; clearly intimidated by both her manner and her identity.

God, she was so sick of being “the general’s daughter”! So sick of being known by everyone wherever she went, and not being sure, no matter how hard she worked, that promotions and praise had been earned and not simply given to her because of who she was. And now he was making her take a private meeting with him at HQ, in full view of God and everyone, which would only further entrench the view of her as “General Parker’s kid” in everyone’s minds. Couldn’t he use that famous intelligence of his that came in so handy tactically, to figure out that the last thing his daughter wanted right now was to see him? Couldn’t he see that all she wanted to do was have a break!?

She stepped back through the doors into the report room, which was now empty save for him.

“You summoned.” She bit out, unleashing a small fraction of her ire. He was completely unaffected.

“Lizzie”, he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of her presence, then turning to the boy and dismissing him with another nod of his head and a “That’ll be all corporal”. The poor boy, who was clearly still feeling intimidated, almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to make himself scarce. Liz rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“What do you want Daddy? I thought we agreed that you were going to treat me like any other Lieutenant? Lieutenants don’t usually have private meetings with the big boss!” She said, her frustration seeping into her words.

“Liz, I was just trying to have a private conversation with my daughter, which you have made almost impossible through every other channel!”

“That’s bull; you could have sent communications through our comm sector at base!”

“I’ve tried.” He bit out.

“I’ve been busy” She defended

“Now you’re not”

She ground her teeth and glared at him, taking a seat in the chair across from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“So how are you?” He asked, in a fruitless attempt to start a conversation.

“We both know I’m not here for tea and a chat, just get to the point.”

He sighed; lately he couldn’t seem to do anything right with Liz. It had started when she had informed him she was joining up three years ago; he’d attempted to forbid her from doing so, and when he couldn’t stop her, attempted to at least protect her using his rank and influence to make sure she wasn’t assigned anywhere where the action was. Of course being Liz, she hadn’t been satisfied with sitting on the sidelines. He should have realized that she wouldn’t be after growing up in the thick of things like she had. She’d found out what he was doing, and demanded to be put on the front lines. And she got her way. Things between them had been tense ever since, which was not to say that they had been perfect before, because they both knew he’d never been cut out to be a father, he was a military man through and through.

“The Time wants to do an article on us, I told them yes.” She didn’t blow up like he’d expected her to, but she sat a little straighter, and her jaw clenched even tighter, though he wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“No.”

“Liz, I know you don’t like being in the public eye, but this could be a good opportunity.”

“A good opportunity for what!? I’m not doing an interview and that’s all, I will not let you turn me into some sort of figurehead! I’m going back to my unit where I can do some real good.”

“Liz, I’m not trying to turn you into a figurehead, its one interview, you’ll be away from your unit for two days, and you’ll have the chance to do some good. Think of what this article could do. The people need their spirits lifted, think of it as a way to raise morale.”

She knew she wouldn’t win on this one, as stubborn as she was he could match her, and he had ultimate power over her as her General.

“Fine” she spat out.

“I am not forcing you to do this.”

“Keep thinking that Dad”

“You’ll take a dep disc to the Tokyo base, Kyle will be waiting to escort you to the Valenti residence where I will meet you tomorrow for the interview.”

The interview was tomorrow! It took all of her will power not to scream at him. She swivelled and stormed out of the room toward the transport bay, walking right past the queue of outgoing personnel; strait to what Maria called the ‘VIP section’. She flashed her badge at security, not that she needed to; they all knew who she was, and stepped none-too-happily back onto a depot disc, bracing herself for the journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Base Camp, Tokyo, Earth, 2114

Kyle was again waiting for her when she emerged coughing and spluttering into the transport bay of site 003, otherwise known as the Tokyo base camp. Recovering herself much more quickly in her fury, she stormed past Kyle towards the shuttle bay and attempted to ignore the renewed ringing in her ears, and the fact that her lungs didn’t seem able to function properly yet.

Kyle strode after her, catching up with her in only a few long strides, much to her annoyance.

“Don’t I get a ‘Hi Kyle, how’s it going?’?”

She turned to face him, plastered an obviously fake smile onto her face and injected her voice with sickening sweetness.

“Hi Kyle, how’s it going?”

Kyle didn’t turn a hair at her antics, and proceeded to take part in a one sided conversation in which he told her exactly what he had been doing in the two weeks since she had last seen him, as if her question had been genuine. Liz pointedly ignored him the entire time, but couldn’t help but listen even if she was pretending she wasn’t. At last Kyle caught her smiling at the tale of one of his many misadventures, and poked her in the ribs.

“See, I knew there was a smile in there somewhere Parker.” And she couldn’t help but smile a little wider at the goofy grin on his face and his eyes dancing with victory. She sighed again, remembering the reason she was seeing him.

“You know why I’m not in the best of moods, so how bout you just give me a rest for now okay?”

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad Liz! I mean, you get to come to our beautiful city rather than being sent back to a camp in the middle of nowhere, you get to eat food that doesn’t taste like cardboard, wear clothes that have colour, take actual baths, and to top it all off, you get to see Maria and I! I’m not seeing a down side to this plan, plus it means that I get leave to escort you around.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “How do you always manage to make everything about you?” She teased.

“It’s not too hard, because as we both know; the universe revolves around my God-like self.” He replied puffing out his chest and strutting ahead of her.

“Oh Kyle,” She said in a breathy voice, fluttering her eyelashes for effect, “You’re, like, sooo amazingly gorgeous Kyle,” She fanned herself with her hand, “I feel so privileged to have the honour of being in your divine presence!”

She caught his eye and burst into hysterical giggles, leaning on the doorway to the shuttle bay to support herself. Kyle glared at her, but couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, shoving her forward into the shuttle bay, and then dragging her towards the fastest and most expensive looking shuttle while she clutched at her stomach, and stumbled blindly along beside him.

“Jeez Liz, it wasn’t that funny,” He finally stated with a raised eyebrow as he got the shuttle running. “In fact, it was slightly disturbing.”

“I know, I know,” She said, finally calming down enough to form a coherent sentence, “It’s just been one of those days you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

And he did. Kyle was one of the few people who could. The only person, in fact, who shared both her childhood, and her compulsion towards the military. So maybe some days she wanted to kick his ass, and maybe he was often the biggest morons on the planet, but he got her, and that would always count for something.

Liz leaned back into the soft, expensive leather of the shuttle and closed her eyes. She needed sleep, and besides, she’d rather not be awake to witness the many near death experiences that they were likely to have with Kyle piloting.

“Try not to kill us please.” She remarked even though she knew it was futile.

A manic grin spread across his face, his eyes were alight with mischief, and his body tensed with suppressed energy that seemed to crackle in the air around them.

“I’m not making any promises,” He threw out wickedly, before grabbing the controls, and sending them catapulting out of the bay at a speed that Liz would have preferred not to even contemplate. She sighed and closed her eyes again; her life just couldn’t be boring could it?

AN: Hi everyone! I’d like to send a huge thank you to everyone who sent me feedback: begonia9508, Natalie36, confusedfool, raemac, tinie38 and Michelle in Yonkers.

You guys are awesome! I was going to send you all individual reply’s, but then I realized they were counted as replies to the topic and that felt like cheating in some way. One of you said something to the effect that I didn’t seem like an inexperienced writer, which was awesome and very flattering, but well, I am inexperienced! I’ve started, and am not anywhere near finishing, two stories for a different fandom, and that is the extent of my experience! So please send constructive crit if there’s anything you feel could be improved in the story… especially if you haven’t enjoyed the story! I want to know why!

Therapy: Hurricane Deluca Style

Deluca/Valenti Residence, Tokyo, Earth, 2114

“Lizzie!” Maria screamed, throwing open the door and flinging herself at Liz in that characteristically dramatic Maria manner. Liz couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips, despite the bone-crushing hug. Before Liz had had time to even begin her own greetings Maria was holding her out at arms length to examine her, and had launched into a rapid paced monologue.

“How are you? Where have you been? What have you been doing? I haven’t seen you in millennia! It’s so great to finally see you again! Although can I just tell you girlfriend, that that whole army girl look you have going on is sooo not going to cut it. I mean yeah, I do realize that you have to blend into your surroundings and all, but don’t the damn military understand the term ‘accessorize’?” She ended with an exasperated sigh, putting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow. This stance lasted a few fleeting seconds before she started giggling.

Liz’s smile grew, “Oh Maria, it’s so good to see you.” She exclaimed, feeling suddenly inexplicably light. Her best friend was a breath of fresh air and exactly what she needed right now. Liz allowed herself to be dragged inside by the ever enthusiastic ‘hurricane Deluca’ who was wearing a fire engine red Japanese style dress with flowing sleeves that exaggerated her every movement and matching bright red lipstick that demanded attention and screamed confidence. She found herself savoring her newly acquired sense of tranquility and barely registering all the information that Maria was reeling off at a mile a minute.

Maria was in fact outlining her plan for Liz’s short-lived visit, and what a plan it was! In less than thirty seconds Liz had determined that the girl clearly intended to kill her, because the trip was so crammed full of everything that Liz doubted they’d have time to eat, sleep or even breathe. Unfortunately Liz was unable to voice this opinion because she couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

Thankfully Maria was abruptly cut off when they reached the Valenti’s gleaming kitchen.

“Heaven almighty Maria, give the poor girl a rest! She’s likely to be deaf before you take a breath!” Amy Deluca chastised with a twinkle in her eye. Kyle, who had been trailing along behind them, snorted rather loudly, earning himself a glare from Maria.

“I swear this girl just never shuts up!” Amy told Liz, sighing in mock exasperation. This time it was Maria who snorted.

“Well if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!” She exclaimed, “I have to have learn’t it from somewhere Mom!”

Kyle now decided to put in his two cents, and with a martyred air stated, “You see what I have to put up with? These two jabbering away day in and day out, it’s a wonder my ears haven’t fallen off yet!” Liz was having extreme difficulty keeping a strait face when presented with Kyle’s woe-is-me expression. He was so concentrated on looking pitiable that he didn’t notice Maria inching closer to him. With a grin stretching from ear to ear she whacked him upside the head.

“Ouch woman! There’s no need for violence!” He cried, dodging out of her way and rubbing the back of his head. Maria pursued him into the lounge, and Liz hopped up onto the counter, watching their good-natured bickering with amusement. Amy resumed the chopping up of vegetables that been interrupted by the arrival of their guest, unable to stop herself from thinking back nostalgically to earlier days when little Liz and Maria would sit on the counter next to her, as Liz was now, to ‘help’ her bake.

Liz pinched a bit of carrot off the chopping board and popped it in her mouth, savoring the taste. Amy insisted on using fresh vegetables, and made almost everything from scratch, having a complete hatred of all the quick and easy technologies that allowed one to make meals in seconds. Her father, who had always insisted that there was no difference between Amy’s cooking and store bought meals, was constantly subjected to rants about preservatives and laziness. Liz however was not of his opinion, having long ago learn’t that nothing could rival Amy’s cooking, there was just no substitute for the real thing. After living for months on army rations her mouth was watering at the thought of a home cooked meal.

Throughout the meal preparations Amy carried on a conversation with Liz, listening and prodding as only a mother could. She had always thought of Liz as a kind of surrogate daughter, having been instantly drawn to the dark haired slip of a girl with eyes that spoke of age beyond her years. Amy had long ago come to the realization that she would never understand Liz Parker, they were simply too different, but she could love her none the less. For if there was one thing Amy knew, it was that Liz was in desperate need of all the love that could be given to her.

Kyle and Maria eventually tired of bickering, and Maria drifted back into the Kitchen while Kyle set about fetching his luggage. Liz didn’t have to worry about luggage, as having come strait from HQ she had brought nothing but the clothes on her back. This small detail was a source of delight to Maria who considered it an excuse to drag Liz out shopping, despite the fact that Liz already had some clothes stored in the Deluca/Valenti residence for just such an occasion.

After disposing of his luggage in his room, Kyle quietly sidled back into the kitchen, inching slowly towards the freshly baked pie that sat on the stove top.

“Kyle Valenti!” Amy exclaimed, without looking up from what she was doing. “If you dare lay a finger on that pie I will make you regret it!” By this time she had turned to face him and was brandishing an enormous knife threateningly.

Kyle had jumped about a foot in the air, knocking his head on the kitchen cabinets and becoming the source of great hilarity for the girls who were laughing so hard they were leaning on each other for support.

He scowled, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘eyes in the back of her head’ before retreating, disgruntled, to the lounge to watch TV.

All evening Liz reveled in the warmth and comfort of being a part of a family, even though they weren’t her own. Besides her father, they were the closest thing to family she had. And despite the fact that she would never wish for anyone else as her father, she had always wished that their family could have been a little more like Maria’s. The Valenti/Deluca clan was far from perfect, both Jim and Amy had been involved in unsuccessful marriages before they met each other, and both them and their children still suffered the scars that had resulted. Jim worked long hours, and he and Amy were so different that conflict abounded, Kyle and Maria were more likely to strangle each other than to have a civil conversation. And yet as a family they had toughed it out, and despite all of their problems, there was a constant and unwavering love that underscored their every interaction.

That love and stability was what Liz had always craved, and was a balm to her soul when she could be a part of it. Being in the military was stable in its own manner; having rules and routine and a chain of command was comforting, and with procedures to follow in every aspect of army life, Liz was never unsure of herself. But the unpredictability and constant suspense brought on by war prevented the kind of stability Liz longed for. Outside of a military setting however, Liz had always felt like a fish out of water. Only in this familiar setting, with these people that were so close to her heart, was it possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in the privacy of Maria’s bedroom, Liz’s best friend finally broached the subject which Liz had been avoiding all night. It was a conversation that was inevitable, and Liz had known from the look in Maria’s eyes when she had first seen her that there was no way that she would be able to worm her way out of it.

“Liz, I want to know how you are… really.” They stared at each other for a moment, Liz contemplating what to say, and Maria’s bright green eyes demanding honesty.

“I’m…” Maria cut her off before she could even get another word out.

“Don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap Liz, you and I both know it’s not true. I know you Liz, I’m your best friend and believe it or not I can tell when you are the exact opposite of fine. I gave you the whole evening to tell everyone just how ‘fine’ you are, and now you’re going to tell me the truth.”

Liz sighed in defeat. Even though Maria often seemed like the least perceptive person on the planet, her appearances were entirely deceiving; the girl had an overdose of what some would call intuition, at least when it came to Liz, her boyfriends were an entirely different matter.

“I’m just tired Maria.” Liz begrudgingly admitted, pausing and hoping that her answer would be enough for her best friend, despite the fact that she knew better. Maria let the silence drag on between them, her eyes demanding elaboration. Liz sighed wearily, wishing that they didn’t have to get into this tonight, she didn’t have the energy.

“I just… I guess fighting for so long… it really takes it out of you.” She forced out, trying and failing to find the words to express the sheer exhaustion to someone from a civilian background. She loved Maria dearly, and there were many things about her that only Maria knew, but this was something she would never fully understand. Then all at once, a torrent of words, that had for so long remained bottled up, came rushing out.

“I just feel… powerless you know? So small and insignificant, and everything I do is like a drop in the ocean. Maria, I just feel like the war… it’s never going to end. And I can’t take that” She admitted, shaking her head vigorously and feeling alarmingly close to tears. “I can’t fight like this for the rest of my life when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. There’s just too much destruction, too much death… so much death Maria… you just don’t get it.” Liz stated with hollow eyes; hopeless and jaded.

Maria’s brow furrowed in concern, “Look Liz, maybe I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through, but as your best friend, I can see that you need a break.”

“What I need,” Liz stated determinedly, fighting back her demons through sheer will power, “Is to get back to my unit where I can keep trying to make some sort of difference, even if it is an insignificant one. I have to do something Maria. I have to try.”

“Liz, you are running yourself into the ground. You have to take better care of yourself or you’ll be incapable of making any kind of difference before long. Or you’ll end up like the General.”

“I am just fine Maria.” Liz stubbornly insisted, “And as far as I can see, there is absolutely nothing wrong with ending up like my father.” That was a blatant lie and they both knew it, but Maria recognized that she had pushed hard enough for one night, and would get no further with Liz. She gave a resigned sigh.

“Whatever you say Liz, I’m just glad you’ve been forced to stop for a while because of this article.” Liz could not agree with that as she would have preferred almost anything to being forced to do an interview, but was far too tired to argue. So after a few half hearted attempts at catching up with what had been happening in Maria’s life, she changed into one of Kyle’s well used t-shirts and gave in to her exhaustion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite her exhaustion, which had been only slightly diminished by her night of rest, Liz was awake very early the next morning. She was an early riser by force of habit, as making the most of daylight hours had been drummed into her from an early age. The apartment was comfortably silent as Jim had no doubt already left for work, and the rest of the family was still happily unconscious. Even Kyle, who had been living the military lifestyle as long as she had, seemed to have no problems with changing his sleep cycle at the drop of a hat.

Bare feet hit the pale wood of the passage as Liz padded softly through the apartment towards the balcony. The Valenti’s lived in the penthouse apartment of one of the most sought after high rises in Tokyo. Liz absolutely adored their balcony, which afforded a gorgeous view of the city. In five minutes she was curled up on one of the cushioned chairs outside, clutching a cup of tea, and enjoying the sights in the weak early morning sunshine.

There was something about looking down at something from high above that was intensely calming. Something that made you feel untouchable… removed from all life’s problems. This was an escape, and Liz could almost feel her tension and worries melting away as she sat in silence for what seemed an eternity.

Eventually the sounds of a household awakening reached her on her perch above the city. The kettle being switched on, the sound of running water, soft footsteps and muffled yawns all slowly brought Liz out of her reverie, and yet the calm she had achieved did not wear away. She supposed she would need all the composure she could muster to face the interview that would take place in a matter of hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later Liz sat on the Valenti’s couch, as far away from her father as she could place herself, looking like a prisoner about to be led to her execution. General Parker sat on the other end of the sofa ungraciously sipping at the green tea Amy had given him instead of the requested black coffee. Silence reigned as they waited for the inevitable ringing of the doorbell.

Maria, who had been watching them from the kitchen with growing frustration, marched up to Liz and dragged her from the room ignoring her startled protests. Once safely behind closed doors she rounded on Liz, eyes blazing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded, releasing all her pent up frustration.

Liz’s eyebrows shot up, and her eyes displayed her shock and confusion. “Maria, what are you talking about?” She asked irritably.

“I am talking about the way you are acting around your father Liz; you had better pull yourself together and fast, because what I just saw is the last thing that a reporter should see. It’s the last thing that the people who look up to you need to know about.”

“Well you know what Maria; I’m not going to pretend that everything is all fine and dandy just for the sake of some reporter!”

“You were perfectly fine with doing it all of last night for the benefit of my parents.” Maria accused.

“That was different!” Liz exclaimed defensively, beginning to get angry.

“Yes it was! You were around people who love you, and wouldn’t have thought any worse of you for telling the truth. We don’t need to look to you for hope. This is different, the people who read this article are people who look up to you and admire you. They’re people that desperately need to believe in something.”

“Why is it me? What have I ever done to warrant such admiration? Why is it my responsibility to give people hope? I have no hope to give Maria!”

“Liz, your father is the unofficial leader of the planet! You are like earths equivalent of a princess. Nobody ever asks to be ‘royalty’. Maybe you didn’t choose this responsibility, but it’s what you’ve been given. Maybe you don’t like it, but you have got to learn to deal with it.” There was silence as Maria’s words turned over and over in Liz’s angry mind.

“Liz, you can look at this like a gift!” Maria went on encouragingly. “You can use your responsibility to make a big difference. And I’m talking about the tidal wave kind of difference not the drop-in-the-ocean kind. You can inspire people to keep fighting, to keep living. You can remind them that there’s something worth fighting for.”

“How am I supposed to do that Maria? I can’t inspire people! I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore.” She ended quietly.

“Yes, you do. Maybe you don’t think you do, but you always keep on fighting Liz, people don’t do that when they aren’t fighting for something worth while, something they believe in. So you are going to go back into the lounge, and you are going to remember that your father loves you, and that he isn’t an altogether horrible person. You are going to remember that no matter how bad things might seem, there are still good things left in this world. And you are going to be yourself, because the real Liz Parker, the brave, strong, amazing person I know you are; that’s the person that Earth needs to see.”

And without another word, Maria led a speechless Liz back into the lounge where her father and the reporter were waiting for her.

AN: Hi everyone… sorry this has taken so long… it’s my sieve brain’s fault! Also I am being run off my feet by work… not cool! Anyway, our computer room at home (dorms I think you call them… we call it Res here… like boarding but for university students) is up and running again, yay! So the next one should be up far sooner… keep your fingers crossed!

Thank you so much to all my feed backers: tinie38, raemac, KatnotKath, bettylove8, begonia9508, and SmileeUK

Hope you all enjoy this one! Mac
NB notice the date! This is set two years after the last chapter.

Remnants of the past
The Valenti Residence, Tokyo, Earth, 2116

Liz’s face, which had even two years before looked young and alive, now seemed lined with age as she looked down on the box that had for two years resided beneath Maria’s abandoned bed.

The box looked deceptively harmless.

Liz knew from hard experience that appearances were deceiving.

Slowly she knelt down beside it, blowing off the dust that had collected on it; escaping Amy’s cleaning efforts. She smoothed her hands over its surface, allowing the texture and smells of dust and cardboard to sooth her.

Carefully she pulled the box open, lifting the flaps to reveal a scrapbook. Maria’s bold and loopy handwriting dominated the front cover; joyously declaring ‘Summer 2114’.

Liz had never before felt words or handwriting like she did as she stared at the front cover of that scrapbook. Being faced with those words was like a sledgehammer to the chest. A wave of longing swept through her; a longing to be back at the beginning of that summer with Maria who had written those words.

Reluctantly she opened the scrapbook to the first page to be transported back in time.

She had braced herself for the worst, but instead she found herself faced with playful photos of life at the Valenti’s. They were happy snaps of Kyle fooling around, Amy at the orphanage or looking sternly into the camera pretending to be angry when really you could tell that moments after the photo had been taken a smile had covered her face. There were even a few of Jim reading the newspaper, seemingly unconcerned with the chaos surrounding him.

All of them were interspersed with Maria’s beloved handwriting.

It was not the punch in the gut she had been expecting, but there was a different kind of grief that came with those pages. There was comparison and regret…

She had not long to wait for her punch in the gut though. Just as soon as she had been lulled into a miserable sense of security it was sprung upon her. It came in the form of a slightly unclear batch of photos featuring Maria singing on stage to a massive crowd, radiant and full of spunk, accompanied by a slightly bashful looking Alex on the guitar.

As the photos progressed Alex began to look more comfortable on stage, and in the last both were drenched with sweat and clearly in their own world, but they were luminous even in a photo. It had been their first performance together… and would be their only one.

Liz had missed it.

The already fuzzy photo blurred out of focus. A tear rolled slowly down her face and hung precariously off her chin for a few slow seconds before falling. It sparkled as it fell through the air, reflecting and distorting its wretched surroundings, and in Liz’s minds eye, restoring them… that room and its contents that had once been so full of life… to their former state. The fantasy that had captured her imagination for a split second shattered as the tear splattered on a textured purple page of the scrapbook.

The salty tear darkened the page, slowly being absorbed into the paper until Maria’s black ink handwriting smudged and bled. Liz couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.

Her hands relaxed their grip without her knowledge, and she saw, as if in slow motion, the scrapbook falling from her knees. The pages fluttered and whispered in desperation before they were crushed against the wooden floor.

Liz pushed herself away from it on the floor, frantically scooting backwards until her back hit the pale yellow wall. It was unforgiving; unyielding, and seemed to laugh at her and mock her with its too-cheerful color.

She buried her head in her knees and sobbed, releasing the tears that had been building for two years.

Hours or minutes later she was roused from her numb, semi-comatose state by the sound of the vacuum cleaner in the lounge. Her swollen and red eyes squinted back towards the box. She unwillingly scooted back towards it; ignoring the scrapbook at its side… she couldn’t face that anymore. Apprehensively she peeked over the edge of the box again.

Her own haunted eyes stared up at her from the cover of the ‘Time’ magazine. It was a photo she had learned to hate through associations. She was pictured at five years old clinging on to her father as he walked her through the leveled Roswell. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms clung tightly to his neck, only her eyes and nose were visible over her arms.

It was that pair of grieving dark brown eyes looking over the shoulder of Sergeant Parker that had captured the hearts of her world.

She pulled it out of the box, flipping the pages to the familiar article and then sat staring at it. The words were so familiar she could mistake them for her own, and the sight of the first sentence triggered her memory of the first time she had ever laid eyes on the article…

Maria had dumped a thick envelope in Liz’s lap at the breakfast table.

“It’s the article,” She said with expectant eyes, “the magazine sent you a copy early.”

The envelope sat innocently on the table all through breakfast, casting a specter over those seated at it, until at last, when Liz had forced the very final morsel of her breakfast very unwillingly down her throat, she opened it apprehensively. Her eyes devoured the words that she had so reluctantly allowed to be written.

I arrive at the Valenti residence for my interview with the Parker’s, determined to unravel some of the mystery that surrounds the notoriously private and press shy pair. I am armed with only a notebook full of questions and a tape recorder, and feel woefully vulnerable when I am confronted by two soldiers carrying far more lethal weapons, stationed outside the door for the General’s protection. I later find out that they are there more for the peace of mind of others than out of necessity, as the General is completely capable of taking care of himself.

The door is opened by Kyle Valenti, a close friend of the Parkers and a soldier himself. He has a friendly air about him that puts one immediately at ease, and he jokes with the guards before he shows me inside. The penthouse apartment is every bit as welcoming as Kyle is with its soft décor and lived in air, and I find myself surprised that this is where one of the most high profile families on earth lives. I had been expecting something more aloof and grandiose, but this home is a reflection of it’s down to earth residents.

General Parker sits on the sofa looking more than a little out of place in his crisp uniform, covered in gleaming brass. His presence is every bit as intimidating as his reputation leads you to believe, if not more so. I stand up a little straighter when Kyle introduces us and feel as if I should be calling him ‘sir’ as I shake his battle hardened hand. Awkward silence envelopes us for a minute before Amy Deluca floats into the living room to introduce herself and offer coffee. The General looks highly affronted and demands to know why he has been forced to drink ‘your blasted tea that tastes like cat sick!’ A friendly argument, that I suspect is very well practiced, ensues, and my suspicions are confirmed when Kyle rolls his eyes.

To avoid the wrath of Amy I agree to try the ‘cat sick’ tea, which she declares is delicious, and while she makes it she tells me of all its many merits. Unfortunately I live to regret my decision when I discover for myself that the General was in no way exaggerating. He wears a tiny knowing smile on his face that softens his features and makes him seem a little less unapproachable. The whole scene drives home how very human and normal these people, that we have for so long idolized, are.

Maria and Liz soon emerge from a bedroom and I am struck by the contrast between them. While both petite and delicate looking, this is where the similarities stop. Maria is blonde haired and fair skinned with striking green eyes and wears a bright red kimono. She gives off the air of being a free spirit. Liz on the other hand is her complete opposite, with her dark hair, tan skin, and chocolate doe eyes. She wears comfortable jeans and a black sweater but looks like she would have been more comfortable wearing fatigues. Her eyes tell me that they have seen too much, and I get the impression that she is older than her 19 years.

Despite their differences Liz and Maria are obviously very close and as I watch they communicate silently with their eyes, as only people who know and love each other through and through really can. Maria gives Liz’s hand a quick squeeze before Liz reluctantly disengages herself from her best friend to come and sit next to her father on the couch opposite me. Before she follows the rest of her family from the room Maria shoots me a very protective look that clearly says ‘if you hurt Liz I will make your life hell!’ It’s intimidating despite her small stature, and I do not envy the person who gets on her bad side.

Their little exchange has made me wonder if the rumors that Liz was against doing this interview had any merit, so I decide to throw my carefully prepared ‘ice-breaker’ questions out of the window and risk satisfying my curiosity. My direct question seems to surprise both Liz and the General, but after a moment of hesitation she starts to answer my question with something akin to respect forming in her eyes. To my own surprise her soft spoken answer is upfront and honest, she doesn’t laugh it off and evade answering like so many would have.

She politely tells me that she most definitely would have preferred not to do the interview, and after a little probing I discover that Liz has always resented being in the public eye. “Having the world watching you is stifling,” She explains, “I never chose or expected to be in the public eye, and it was never something I even thought might be nice, it was something that came just because my father is who he is, and is really good at his job. It’s a huge responsibility. To be honest, it weighs me down sometimes. There’s so much pressure to be this perfect person who never messes up, and no-one can live up to that, and when I do mess up (which happens often let me tell you) the entire world is watching. It’s humiliating. The worst part of it is I never know if I’ve achieved something on my own merit, or if people have just given me what I want because of who I am. So no, I wasn’t too keen to do an interview, because I tend to avoid anything that would increase my notoriety like the plague.” She ends with a wry laugh, and I’m impressed by her forthright manner.

My next few questions are directed towards the much publicized story of how they came to be a family. Although the story is very well known, I have never come across a first hand account of it and I discover that this is because the Parkers have never actually talked to the press about it. I nervously ask if they would be willing to tell me their story, and General Parker turns questioning eyes on his ‘Lizzie’. She looks conflicted, turning her head to catch the eyes of Maria who has been ‘making tea’ in the kitchen, before giving a brief nod of her head. General Parker gives her a small nod of encouragement and for a brief moment I can see him as Jeff Parker the father, rather than one of the most influential leaders on the planet. He tells the whole story, obviously knowing that Liz can’t, and she sits quietly listening, with eyes downcast, to the story of the day her mother died.

He sets the scene admirably, describing the battlefield where they met with an artist’s eye for detail, and listening to him talk one can appreciate his gift, his art… it is battle. He paints a picture that we see all too often in the war; one of a city raised to the ground, leaving only charred earth, belching smoke and littered with bodies. It was at one such scene that a little girl lost a mother and found a father.

His eyes take on a faraway look as he describes it, “I saw her through the smoke,” he says. “She looked so small and lost, and everyone around her was dead. It’s difficult to explain what made me go to her; there was just an overwhelming need to protect her. It went against all of my training, but I wasn’t thinking strait. All I was thinking about was getting her as far away from the place as I could. When I spoke to her I could barely hear her over the screaming of survivors. I’ve witnessed the aftermath of many a battle, but in all my years I had never, and have never since seen anything quite that bad. I picked her up and took her over to my truck, and then I drove her back to the base with me.”

I ask him what made him decide to adopt a five year old girl when he was a military man and notorious bachelor. He gives a moment’s pause before he answers, as if even now he’s not quite sure what made him do it.

“There are hundreds of thousands of kids orphaned every year on this planet, and most of them aren’t lucky enough to find new homes. By the time I got around to filling out all the proper paperwork for Liz, I had spent too much time with her to be able to watch her go to that fate.”

“I was lucky,” Liz says, chipping in for the first time in many minutes, “Sometimes I forget just how lucky because it’s difficult to see the good things that have come when they are overshadowed by tragedies. I lost my mom, but there are a ton of kids who lost their parents too, and now have to fend for themselves.”

“Amy here works with orphans,” the General tells me, “We started the Nancy Finley Memorial Orphanage, and she is the woman who runs the show.” He nods towards Amy, who had attempted to usher Maria out of the kitchen and ended up hovering with her. His brief statement adds a whole new dimension to my perception of their relationship, there is a mutual respect there that defies all the petty conflict that arises from their polar opposite personalities.

“Amy is amazing with the kids, I think she’d bring them all home if Jim would let her!” Liz chips in, speaking with such an obvious fondness that it is clear Amy has been somewhat of a mother figure in her life. We talk more about the Valenti’s, and by the time our discussion turns in a new direction I know that the Parker’s and Valenti’s are just as tight knit as I’d assessed them to be.

With Liz looking a little more comfortable as our time together wears on, I finally find the courage to ask her about her controversial military career. “After loosing your mother because of the war, what made you decide to join the military?” I ask.

“So many people assume that loosing a loved one in a battle would put me off fighting.” She replies, “ I think that rather than being a deterrent, my mothers’ death was a motivator. I wanted to do all I could to prevent the same thing from happening to other people, and fighting for my planet was the only way I knew how to do that. It was the only thing that came naturally to me; I grew up in the military. I know no other way of life.”

Next I want to know how General Parker felt about his daughter joining up. “I admit that I wasn’t at all happy about it.” He says wryly, and Liz snorts.

“That’s the understatement of the century!” She says.

“Alright, so I was furious.” He grudgingly admits, and I ask why, eager to know the answer, as I had originally assumed he would have been very proud of his daughters’ decision to join up.

“Oh I was proud of her alright! I’ve always been proud of Liz, she amazes me with her strength, and she always does what she believes is right.” He answers me, looking at Liz, and I notice the small bewildered smile on her face, as if this is very new information that she has never expected. “But I’d been a part of the war effort for too long to be happy about my daughter being a part of it. I wanted a different life for her. I wanted her to be safe. I’ve seen too often what war does to people, even if it doesn’t kill them. So when Liz told me she’d joined up I was angry, angry that she was signing up for everything I didn’t want for her. I think I underestimated her though… my daughter is a capable soldier, and more resilient then anyone gives her credit for.” Again there is that pride in his voice that somehow seems to surprise Liz.

“To be honest,” Liz adds, “I don’t know what else he expected of me. Until I was almost fourteen I lived and breathed the military… my playmates were the soldiers at the compound… we played Antarians and Humans instead of Cowboys and Indians!” Her explanation gives me a brief glimpse into why she seems so uncomfortable in civvies.

“What is it that keeps you fighting?” I want to know, wondering how a woman so young and a man who has been fighting for over a quarter of a century, combat the world-weariness that seems to come hand in hand with battle… a battle that both of them have been a part of in some way for most of their lives.

“I’m not exactly sure…” Liz tells me honestly, turning her head and sharing a small smile with Maria. “There are days when I don’t want to get out of bed, days when fighting seems impossible and I just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I think every soldier experiences times when they are just so drained of energy that any activity feels like climbing Everest. On those days it’s thinking of my squad that gets me out of bed, it’s knowing that my squad needs me that makes me put one foot in front of the other. But when I loose the will to fight, when it isn’t physical but emotional exhaustion that’s getting to me… I have to remember what I’m fighting for. I remember this…” She says, gesturing around her.

“I remember my family, and how it feels to have a relatively normal and peaceful life. I remember that everyone deserves this kind of life… or at least a chance at it. That’s what I fight for. I fight for the people I love, and I fight for peace. A peace that will bring rest to the people. A peace that will allow me and the people I love to live without constant fear. To live normally. And I fight for the rights of every man, woman and child on earth to do the same.”

The General’s answer is much more simple. “I fight because I know its right, and I fight for my daughter. I fight to give Liz the life she deserves.”

I sit in silent admiration of the pair before me for a minute. I can almost feel their strength and determination. Our time is up and I leave the Valenti residence alive with the knowledge and hope that earth has not misplaced the trust and admiration it has given the Parkers.
Serena Essop
Maria, who had been reading the article over Liz’s shoulder, smiled widely and then said her bit.

“I’m going to say I told you so… Because, I told you so! You, Liz Parker, are amazing!”

Liz remembered her rueful smile in response to Maria’s comment… remembered how she had felt as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders after reading the article that was sure to increase people’s expectations. Now she could feel nothing but numb. Looking at the article made her feel as if all the life had been sucked out of her.

People had thought her eyes haunting at five, and they had again been described as haunting at nineteen… now, at twenty-one, she hoped no one would see her eyes to label them that again. Because she had passed haunted too many years ago to remember what it looked like.

AN: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for the feedback, you’re all amazing! This one’s out faster than usual… Yay! Hopefully you’ll enjoy it… take careful notice of the dates!

Hugs and Sunflowers for: raemac, omwf, tinie38, bettylove8, pandas2001 and begonia9508.

Also… all is not what it seems.
Mac

Chapter 3: Keep Breathing

Storm is coming
But I don’t mind
People are dying
I close my blinds

All that I know is I’m breathing now

I want to change the world
Instead I sleep
I want to believe
In more than you and me

All that I know is I’m breathing
All I can do is keep breathing
All we can do is keep breathing
Now
~ ‘Keep Breathing’, Ingrid Michaelson

Valenti Residence, Tokyo, Earth, 2116

She pulled the photo album back into her lap, but didn’t have the heart to reopen it. Instead she clutched it tightly to her chest and lost herself in the memory of the last time they had all been together. The last time she had felt truly happy.

Valenti Residence, Tokyo, Earth, 2114
“Alex!” Liz exclaimed, sprinting towards the man at the end of the passage and throwing herself into his arms. “I can’t believe it’s really you!”

“Lizzie!” He said, smiling broadly into her still wet hair, “You’re going to have to promise me you’ll never stay away for that long again before I agree to let go.”

She pulled away slightly and looked him in the eye, smiling. “Promise.” She agreed solemnly, knowing that this was one promise she’d do anything to keep. Apparently satisfied, Alex returned to his normal jovial self, and held out his pinky with a smile on his face.

“You have to pinky swear Liz, remember?” He teased with a twinkle in his eye.

“I thought Kyle had you convinced that pinky swearing was a girly thing to do?” She returned with her eyebrow raised. Yet still she clasped his smallest finger with hers, recalling the many times they had done the same thing as children.

“Yeah well, with you and Maria for company I was a bit girly. What’s with the pruney fingers Lizzy-bear?”

“She’s been using up all the hot water!” Maria chipped in grumpily walking up to them with her hair wrapped up in a towel, “I just had to have a bloody ice cold shower!” Liz smiled innocently, earning herself a swat on the head from Maria.

“What! I’m making up for lost time in the shower; it’s really missed me these past months.”

“I always knew she was certifiable,” Kyle remarked as he passed by with coffee and a newspaper in hand. Liz swiped the coffee out of his hand while he tried to read and walk at the same time.

“Oi! That’s my coffee you nitwit!” He exclaimed, threatening her with his now rolled up newspaper. Liz had unfortunately already taken a sip of scalding coffee, which came spraying out of her mouth in a wide arc when she was unable to contain her laughter.

“Nitwit!” She repeated between giggles, with coffee dripping from her chin, and one hand clutching her stomach. “You… giggle, giggle… seriously just called me… snort… a Nitwit!” Kyle stood directly in front of her, looking less than impressed with his hands on his hips, and the front of shirt drenched in second hand coffee.

“You just ruined a perfectly good shirt and spoilt my coffee! How am I supposed to drink that with your backwash in it?” Liz only laughed the harder at Kyle’s nonplussed expression.

“It wasn’t that funny!” Alex whispered to Maria.

“I know,” She stage whispered back, “Kyle’s got the whole ‘certifiable’ thing right.” She shook her head, clicked her tongue and raised her eyebrows for dramatic effect. Kyle smirked.

“Hey!” Liz exclaimed.

Valenti Residence, Tokyo, Earth, 2116

Liz slowly came back to herself with a small smile on her face. The four of them being together had always felt like home. It was the only time she had felt comfortable to be herself, to be silly… the only time she had experienced that unique camaraderie that they shared.

Now that easy chemistry had been shattered. For all of her experience with war and death she had still somehow taken for granted that they were all invincible… that the friendship they shared would continue on unchanged for all of eternity.

She wished she hadn’t learnt to appreciate how fragile life was.

She randomly opened the scrapbook again, and couldn’t suppress her sigh of relief when she found only a blank page. Something slipped out of it and thumped onto the floor. It was a paper bag full of photos… dated for the day before it had happened.

Her fingers trembled as they picked the package up, and she could feel her eyes again filling with tears.

She lifted the flap and took the pile of photos out, staring at the first one with a heart-aching remembrance and fondness.

Alex and Maria had managed to convince Liz that a trip to Atlantis was in order. It was one of earths last remaining theme parks, built just before the start of the war. It had been one of the first under-sea habitats, a giant dome on the ocean floor just off the coast of Spain, named for the fabled lost city of Atlantis.

The Atlantis theme park had a ridiculously long waiting list, but being Liz Parker and Maria Deluca meant that only five minutes notice had been required, much to Liz’s chagrin and Maria’s glee. Alex of course took the opportunity to good naturedly tease his ‘famous’ friends, not fully comprehending how apprehensive Liz was of facing gaping, autograph requesting crowds.

The place was more crowded than a shopping centre on Boxing Day, and the arrival of both Maria Deluca and Liz Parker had caused quite a sensation. Maria’s notoriety had been far more her own doing than Liz’s, for although her family was well known, she had pursued a career in singing and acting which had proved to be a huge success. Liz had been convinced that if Hollywood still existed, Maria would be it’s ‘it girl’. As it stood then, Maria’s only opportunities to utilize her talent had come in the form of a rare musical, or production, to which audiences flocked from around the world.

While Maria had always been a down to earth soul, and never actively sought out media or public attention, she wasn’t exactly averse to it either, meaning that Liz and Alex had been frequently made to wait for her while she signed autographs for, and took photos with, various tourists (who had all thankfully seemed to be too intimidated by Liz’s glowering to request the same of her).

Once they had for the most part escaped the tourists, Maria had somehow convinced Alex to go on the first ride with them (an enormous roller coaster known as the lethal weapon, with more twists and turns than a rabbit warren) and he had come off the ride a lovely shade of green, somehow managed not to loose his breakfast, and stubbornly refused to set foot on another ride that day. Maria of course immortalized the moment with one of the many disposable cameras she was toting for the very purpose of catching all the inconceivably embarrassing situations that her friends would undoubtedly get themselves into.

It was this photo that Liz now stared at, taken just a few weeks before everything fell apart. She flipped to the next picture, grimacing as she saw it.

Sure enough, Liz was the next to be forever haunted by the humiliating pictures of her extremely ungraceful topple from the small boat on the ‘Crocodile River’ ride, which was the only ride that Alex had consented to go on. She had for some unfathomable reason decided to stand up on the child sized boat, and had therefore hit her head on it’s very low roof, stumbled backwards clutching her head, hit the edge of the boat, realized what was going to happen, and wind milled furiously and futilely with wide eyes until her momentum carried her into the shallow water.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the action shots Maria had managed to take of her infamous plunge into the Crocodile River.

Liz had then swiped one of Maria camera’s in order to exact her revenge, and had been privileged enough to catch the moment in which a four year old riding on his fathers shoulders had dropped his toffee apple in Maria’s hair (the expression on her face was priceless). Then there was Maria’s very own Marilyn Monroe impersonation, only she didn’t manage to look quite so sexy with her skirt around her ears.

Liz flipped through the rest of them, sparing sad smiles for each of the many happy snaps of them on the last day they had spent together. When she had gone through all of them she slid them back into the scrapbook. As painful as this was, it helped.

Maybe Kyle was right, maybe it was time to deal with this… maybe it was time to lay some old ghosts to rest.

Reaching into the box again she pulled out an old sketch pad of Alex’s. The front page was a sketch of the three of them as children hamming it up for the camera… its matching photo came fluttering out of the pages and landed at her feet. She slipped it in her pocket. She flipped slowly through the book. There were a few half finished sketches that had been abandoned. She tore out one of herself and Kyle as kids… he had a video game controller in his hands and was carefully playing around her as she slept in his lap. They must have been about eleven at the time… even then Maria had been happy snapping. Alex had been working on a series of sketches for her when it happened. They were all drawn from old photos he had dug up from the frightening depths of the Valenti attic.

Her fingers reverently traced his loving pencil strokes.

Then at the end of the book she came across something strange. They were a series of sketches of a woman she had never seen before; beautifully detailed but with an unreal quality to them… And there was something about them that was strange, even frightening to her… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She placed the entire sketchbook in her bag.

Then she pushed the box back under Maria’s bed, picked herself up off the floor and quietly let herself out of the room and the house.

Human Base Camp, Kalahari Desert, Earth, 2114

“Lieutenant Parker?”

“Yes, Corporal.”

“We’ve received orders that you’re to report to HQ immediately.”

Liz felt her stomach drop… there was something not right about this. The Corporal wasn’t meeting her eyes. Her sense of urgency drove her into action. She didn’t even respond to the corporal, instead she took off at a brisk walk towards the transport bay, breaking into a jog after a few steps.

Her eyes betrayed her terror.

In the short minutes it took her to cut across their camp her mind had come up with too many horrible possibilities to contemplate.

She walked right past the short outgoing depot disc queue and stepped onto the reserved disc bay.

“HQ” She told the techie shortly.

He asked no questions. She was not required to produce identification. In seconds she felt herself being whipped away. And she knew that it wasn’t a good sign.

Human HQ, Earth, 2114

Kyle wasn’t there to greet her when she stumbled off her disc. Nor was there any other familiar and smiling face to reassure her. Instead there was the boy that had called her back to see her father only a few weeks before. And his face held dread; the dread you see on the faces of those who know something you don’t and pity you… the unwanted compassion that tells you you’re about to find out something you don’t want to hear. And a tiny sliver of relief because he wasn’t going to be the one to deliver the bad news. All of this Liz knew instinctually, and a small part of her hated him for that expression.

She didn’t even wait for him to open his mouth. She walked right past him and down the long corridor that led to the conference rooms. The time it took her to get to the end of that corridor seemed interminable.

Every door was open but one. Every room was empty but one. And instinctually she knew that behind that door lay the reason she had been summoned here; the reason that only minutes ago her poor semblance of tranquility had been shattered. Her fragile heart shied away from that door.

And then her military stoicism kicked in and she hardened her heart. Fighting her dread she walked slowly towards the door with her arm outstretched. Her fingers closed around the cold metal door handle before a horrified ‘No!’ came from behind her.

She turned to see the Corporal, her father’s assistant, standing at the end of the corridor out of breath from running after her.

“You can’t… you can’t go in there!” He told her frantically between pants.

She ignored him and turned back towards the door.

“No!” He shouted, darting forward desperately and pulling her small frame away from the door.

She didn’t fight him… a part of her was glad he had done it; glad to delay the inevitable for just a little longer. When they were what he seemed to deem a safe distance away from the door, he let go of her arm. He didn’t look at her. She turned her face away from him and examined the walls.

The seconds seemed like hours. She did not know how long she would have to wait, nor did she know what she was waiting for. And time dragged on in a seemingly endless parade of perpetual dread.

And then the door was flung open and a small blonde body flung herself into Liz’s arms crying hysterically. And suddenly everything was going at warp speed and she couldn’t comprehend anything that was going on around her because her ears had caught a single word between Maria’s sobs… and it had turned her world upside down.

She saw but didn’t see Kyle following after Maria and standing limply near them, eyes fixed on the wall just as hers had been only seconds before.

She didn’t see Jim coming out of the door his uniform stained with blood.

She didn’t see her father’s grim face as he reached the end of the passage to find that his daughter was already there and already somehow knew.

She didn’t notice her hands clench tightly to Maria’s shirt, and her arms cling to her best friend as if for her life.

She didn’t even hear her best friends sobs or notice her own tears that were streaking down her cheeks as she stood upright and stared unseeing over Maria’s shoulder.

There was only one word that resonated and repeated itself over and over in her blurry mind.

Alex.

AN: Hi everyone! This is just a quick hello and a forewarning that although this has been posted rather quickly (Yay!) you’re probably going to have to be patient with me after this as I have come to the end of my supply of pre-written chapters and life is currently a mad scramble for time to sleep! Hope you all enjoy this one! And thanks so much to all the awesome people who left feedback;

Natalie36, xmag, begonia9508, tinie38, bettylove8, pandas2001, raemac, ShatteredDreamer, omwf and Michelle in Yonkers.

Chapter 4: Broken
Parker Residence, Mumbai, Earth, 2116

Liz opened the door to her disused apartment. Nobody had been in it in at least six months. The air smelt stale and she could see dust moats floating in it in the light that filtered through her cream living room curtains. They weren’t so cream anymore. Dust had settled everywhere and all of her once pristine furniture (hand picked by Maria) now looked grimy in the dim lighting.

She trailed her finger through the dust collected on the sideboard, leaving a snake of shiny mahogany in her wake. The metal rings on her curtains whined as she pulled them apart, unleashing cleansing light onto her living area. She switched on the air-conditioning; waiting for cool fresh air to filter into the apartment… it never came. She hopefully bashed the air vent a few times to no avail… it was broken, the whole place had fallen into disrepair.

She wrenched one of the windows open. The acrid smell of pollution along with the smells of incense and spices floated into her home. Alex had always hated the smell of Mumbai. He said it was too overwhelming. Liz had always loved it for the very same reason. It was a smell she could get lost in, a city she could get lost in. Perhaps it was the only place she had any anonymity at all.

The air was neither cool nor fresh but she didn’t mind.

Her loose cotton shirt had already begun to cling to her due to the heat. She reveled in the feeling… the familiarity. She had lived in the desert for the majority of her life… to her heat was comforting. She had stayed in London over Christmas years before when Maria had been in a production on West End. She had learned very quickly that she couldn’t stand the cold. It seemed to seep into her bones. She had sniffed and sneezed her way through December confined to the house and miserable about it.

She turned on the kitchen tap. It moaned before spewing out brown water. She held her finger, black with dirt from her sideboard, under it and watched as the dust washed off her finger and the water turned clear. She turned the tap off and shook her hand, sprinkling droplets of water on the kitchen tiles.

Her eyes drooped with exhaustion.

She kicked off her shoes and padded to the end of the passage, studiously avoiding looking through the last door she passed on the way.

In her room she yanked the dusty duvet off the bed and abandoned it in a heap on the floor. Then she curled up in the centre of her double bed and fell asleep.

********

Kyle walked quietly through Liz’s apartment, going strait to the bedroom where he knew he’d find her. Sure enough she was curled up in a ball in the middle of her Queen sized bed. She looked so tiny and lonely lying there in such stark contrast with her white sheets. The light that shone dimly through the curtains cast shadows over her face as the curtains billowed in the breeze.

He kicked off his shoes and crawled up the bed until he lay next to her, wrapping his arms protectively around her small frame. She unconsciously gravitated towards him, uncurling slightly to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder. He pushed her hair aside and gently kissed her forehead, smiling sadly as he looked at her.

And for hours he lay there next to her, studying her ceiling and drifting in and out of consciousness. At last his stomach growled; notifying him that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and that supper was due pronto.

“Liz!” He whispered. “Lizzieeee… wake uuuup!” He rubbed his hand gently up and down the top of her arm in an attempt to wake her. She groaned and swatted feebly at him. He chuckled. “Liiiz…” He whined, “I’m hungry!”

She scowled and squinted at him; her eyes only half open. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, squishing her face into so hideous a shape as only his great love for her prevented him from running for the hills. Then she mumbled something that could have been:

“Bugger off, I’m sleeping get yourself something to eat you lazy arse!” Although since her words were muffled by her pillow and she didn’t seem to have the energy to properly open her mouth he doubted he had caught them exactly. The general meaning however came through loud and clear. He grumbled fondly about her sleeping habits and dragged himself out of the bed, giving her foot a cursory yank in a final half hearted attempt to get her up.

A quarter of an hour later Liz padded down the passage to the kitchen. Kyle almost burnt the pancake he was cooking when he caught sight of her. He had to fight not to laugh at the way her hair stuck up at all angles on her head… he couldn’t help but compare her to a hedgehog… and the hedgehog came out looking more favorable in the comparison.

“Mmmm, pancakes!” She said sleepily.

“Do me a favor and make use of this,” he said, flicking an elastic band that had been lying on the counter at her, “your new look is endangering the pancakes and I don’t need you going around telling people that I can’t cook anything at all.”

“Which would be true.” She teased

“No actually, because I can make pancakes!” He replied

“It doesn’t count if they’re from one of those just-add-water boxes.” She informed him.

“It does so!” He cried out, offended.

“Speaking of which,” Liz said, dismissing the previous subject altogether, “what was the ‘use by’ date on that box? I haven’t restocked these cupboards since the beginning of the year.”

“Didn’t check,” Kyle said in an unconcerned manner, “these things last forever!”

“Apparently not.” Liz told him ruefully as she read the packaging, “The pancake mix expired ages ago!”

“They’re just guidelines.” Kyle told her dismissively.

“Well I think going on a year after the expiry date may be pushing it even for you Kyle.”

There was silence in the kitchen for a minute while Kyle absorbed this news.

“Well, that would explain why they were all lumpy and mushy inside wouldn’t it?” Kyle said, tipping the contents of the pan into the trash can. “Order in?”

“Definitely.” Liz agreed.

And as she walked towards her possibly disconnected land line to fetch the menus, she thought she heard him mumbling.

“Man I shouldn’t have eaten that pancake!”

She giggled as she walked. It was good to see him again.

********

Maria finally arrived two hours later while Kyle and Liz sat on the living room floor sharing cold Chinese.

Kyle laughed as Liz slurped noodles up her chin, leaving a thin film of soy sauce in its wake. She laughed along with him, wiping the sauce off with the hand that inexpertly held her chop sticks. She froze when Kyle’s laughter stopped abruptly and the merriment died from his eyes.

She craned her neck to see Maria with soy sauce still dripping from one side of her chin.

It was a sight she almost couldn’t bear to see.

Maria’s hair had been hacked off and then cropped close to her head. Her pale angelic face bore no trace of the make-up she had once thought essential. She had lost far more weight than Liz cared to think about since that day and her skin clung to her bones as if vacuum sealed to them.

Her feet were shod with scuffed black combat boots and the camouflage uniform she still wore seemed to wash out any color that may still have graced her face.

This was not the Maria that had accused the military of having no fashion sense. This was not the Maria that has once written songs, or dragged her out shopping, or laughed with her. This was Maria post-Alex.

This was a Maria who had lived through battles. A Maria who had joined the military she had washed her hands of years before and managed to swiftly win respect. This Maria was a force to be reckoned with. This Maria had hard eyes and a hardened heart to match them.

She dumped her pack next to the door and threw her keys onto the sideboard. Liz stood up quickly, sending the box of Chinese food tumbling off her lap without noticing. Kyle reached over and stood it right side up again, scooping up some of the spilled food in a napkin. Maria watched in proud silence as he studiously avoided her eyes.

After a moment of just taking Maria in as she stood watching Kyle, Liz closed the gap between them in a few long strides, enveloping Maria in her arms. She didn’t even care that she was getting soy sauce all over Maria’s shoulder. In fact she hoped it would force Maria to change so that she could dig out some of her old clothing.

Sadly new Maria was not fazed by a bit of soy sauce and Liz was therefore deprived of the privilege of dressing her up in low rider jeans and bright red tops. Her hands practically itched for lipstick when she looked at her face… and that was not a feeling Liz was familiar with. She would just have to grin and bear it, because after the initial hug Maria didn’t allow any one within a ten foot radius of her. Oh how the times had changed… she remembered Maria forcing her into low rider jeans.

An awkward evening ensued. Maria was distant and stand-offish and she and Kyle avoided each other while Liz tiptoed around them. By the time it was time to turn in, Liz was at her breaking point.

“Will you sleep in your room?” She asked Maria quietly.

“I’ll take the couch.” Maria stated with a note of finality in her voice that was not to be questioned.

“Kyle has the couch.” Liz replied matter-of-factly.

“I’m sure he’ll sleep just fine in your bed.” Maria said as if Kyle wasn’t standing right behind her.

“And I’m sure you’d be just fine in Liz’s bed as well.” Kyle sneered, bumping past her to walk to the hall cupboard.

He pulled out a sheet and a pair of pillows and then walked defiantly past Maria and dumped them on the couch. He sat down beside his pile of linen and crossed his arms resolutely; staking his claim on the couch. Maria’s jaw had been growing increasingly tight and her small hands had balled themselves up at her sides. Her green eyes seemed to be crackling with electricity.

Liz stood by and watched as they tried to stare each other down.

At last Maria turned her face away and marched resolutely down the hall to face the last door before Liz’s. Liz watched as Maria visibly shrunk before that door, feeling a small pang in her heart that urged her to take pity on her friend. She shifted her weight to take a step in Maria’s direction.

Before she had moved Kyle clamped his hand around her arm in an iron grip. She turned defiantly to face him with anger in her eyes.

“Don’t.” He warned her, his eyes as resolute as hers were angry. “She needs this.”

Liz turned her head towards Maria, Kyle’s hand still holding her in place. Maria spared only a short glance her way, in that glance she took stock of Liz’s pity and then walked steadily into the room in defiance of it. She welcomed no one’s pity.

The door clicked shut and Kyle released her arm. Liz wouldn’t look back at him. Instead she walked towards her own room. She paused at Maria’s door to touch the tips of her fingers to the white washed wood. Then she pulled herself away and slipped into her own room… a room that was more free, but not entirely free of ghosts.

*******

Liz lay in her room staring up at the ceiling for hours. She wasn’t tired. And her mind refused to switch off. Refused to stop imagining what was happening on the other side of the thin wall.

In Maria and Alex’s room.

It had always been their room. From the moment she had moved in it had been their room.

Maria had always refused to sleep in her bed. She kicked and hogged the blankets apparently. So she had been left in peace in her room, and the guest room became Alex and Maria’s… their home away from home. Kyle had always taken the couch. And there was a shelf for him in her bedroom.

It had always been their place. Liz may have been the one who owned it but it was all of theirs. And they were the only four who had been allowed in it. Even Amy had hardly visited aside from an initial inspection. Liz hadn’t even bothered to tell her father she owned an apartment.

And then it had happened and all of a sudden it had become her apartment… Her empty, lifeless apartment. And even she had stopped inhabiting it if she could help it. But she never had had the heart to sell it. Perhaps it was cowardice, or perhaps it was the feeling that even if their apartment were sold, the ghosts wouldn’t stop haunting her.

She was torn from her thoughts by Maria’s horse voice.

“Liz! Liz!” She screamed frantically.

Liz was out of bed in a second and through the doorway she hadn’t passed in over two years without a seconds’ thought.

Maria sat alone and broken on what had been Alex’s bed. The moonlight streamed through the open curtains to illuminate her… it seemed only to highlight her fragility. Her entire small body was wracked with sobs. The cheerful decor seemed a cruel contrast with this shattered creature in its midst.

Liz stood, frozen, a step into the doorway, simply staring at the remnants of her strong, beautiful, confident best friend… her Maria. The guilt overwhelmed her. They had done this to her… she and Kyle… they had let it get this far and then they had forced her into this room. They had effectively taken a sledge hammer annihilated the crumbling bits of Maria’s strength… they had broken her. Liz wanted to cry as she stood in that doorway. But if she had been the one who broke Maria then she would be the one who put her together again.

Then she did away with the gap between them, climbing up onto the bed behind Maria and wrapping her arms around her… And sitting in the moonlight cradling Maria she felt just as alone and fragile as she was sure her best friend felt.

When Maria had finally cried herself out in Liz’s arms she looked up at Liz from where her head rested on Liz’s shoulder, her short hair tickling Liz’s neck. Liz could trace the signs of exhaustion in Maria’s face. Her sallow skin, the purple smudges beneath her eyes, the lines around her drawn mouth… her once plump cheeks hollowed out. Her green eyes sparkled with yet more tears.

“I don’t want to sleep here.” She said in a pleading, horse voice.

“We’ll go to my room.” Liz said, and she felt her own eyes filling with tears as they witnessed Maria’s pain.

No more words were needed. She helped Maria up out of the bed. She moved slowly, as if in pain, and Liz saw a bandage wrapped around her back when her loose night shirt rode up. She didn’t ask about it because she already knew. They’d all had their share of battle injuries. Maria’s eyes held gratitude instead of the indifference Liz had grown used to. Her own eyes flashed with guilt for allowing her friend to get to this point… for allowing her to distance herself enough to become a virtual stranger and to grieve alone.

They had all grieved alone.

Maria had always been the glue. Maria had always been the one to push when one of them had needed pushing. Maria had never tried to push them away. And maybe Alex would have been able to deal with withdrawn Maria… but grieving Kyle and Liz had had their own grief to contend with and fragile hearts of their own that could not stand being rebuffed too many times.

It was Kyle who had come to Liz’s rescue. Kyle who had endured the many times she had rebuffed him and forced her to reconnect with her life. Maybe now it was Maria’s turn.

And Liz’s hope remained with her for the rest of that sleepless night, even after Maria had withdrawn to the opposite side of the bed and turned her back on Liz, once again alone in her grief. It remained even as her dread of the next day grew into a knotted ball in her stomach.

*********

Liz was out of bed when the first rays of sunlight pierced her curtains. She left the exhausted Maria passed out on the edge of her double bed and passed Kyle balanced precariously but sleeping like a log on her couch. She poured herself a cup of coffee and carried the steaming cup out through the sliding doors of her living room and onto her balcony.

The rusty outside-chair she chose groaned as she sat down on it. She drew her knees up to her chin to ward off the faint breeze that raised goose bumps on her skin. As she looked out over as much of the city as she could see from her relatively low vantage point, she remembered how she used to wake up at the crack of dawn at the Valenti’s and sit on their balcony with Tokyo at her feet.

Everything had seemed hopeless then. Now she wished for those moments back.

After half an hour of solitary contemplation as the sunlight grew harsher, Liz heard the soft footsteps she recognized as Maria’s. She was awake despite her exhaustion as a result of her military trained body clock. Liz craned her neck to see Maria’s bare feet and the bottom of her pajama pants below the fluttering curtains that obscured the rest of her.

The feet paused momentarily before the couch and turned in slightly towards it. Then they padded in her direction. A sliver of Maria’s body appeared from behind the curtain. The one green eye that was visible met Liz’s eyes briefly before she retreated to the kitchen.

For two years, despite her front of indifference, Maria had constantly needed to check up on them… Like a new mother with her child, Maria needed constant reassurance that her loved ones were physically okay. In large crowds her eyes constantly roved between those she considered her family. She could never let go and spend a carefree evening with others anymore.

The shower was running when Kyle came out onto the balcony and put a hand on her shoulder. They didn’t need words. Liz knew: it was time to get ready.

In her room she donned a faded pair of jeans, a loose band T-shirt and an old pair of converses. They had been a gift from Alex… still bright pink after so many years of wear.

When she met Maria in the hallway she was dressed similarly… but she wore blood red lipstick.

Kyle’s tribute was a horrendously ugly luminous orange T-shirt.

They walked out the door silently and Liz felt the world start to close in on her as the last wedge of her apartment disappeared behind the door and the lock clicked audibly as she turned the key.

It was time to visit Alex.

AN: Hi everyone! Yay! This is out sooner than I expected… to the detriment of work but whatever. Anyway, this is another warning that the next chapter may not be up too speedily, I’m aiming for two weeks from now… maybe I’ll surprise myself and everyone else and have it up before then, maybe it’ll take a little longer than expected.

Once again with this chapter pay careful attention to the dates. I was thinking of doing a timeline type thing for the next chapter just so that I can clear up any confusion, please tell me if you’d like that!

Huge thanks to all of my fabulous feed backers: begonia9508, raemac, DreamerM&L, Natalie36, bettylove8, tinie38, Michelle in Yonkers, and omwf.

The surest way to get a faster update is to feed back or send me a message telling me to hurry up, so if the updates aren’t coming fast enough for your liking give me a shout… I tend to respond rather well to demands

Also (last thing, since this has become a monster AN!) I’ve been working on a short Michael/Maria piece, if you’re interested in reading it please let me know cause I’m a little unsure about whether I should post it or not.

Chapter 5: Lost

Johannesburg, Earth, 2117

She was lost; lost in a sea of smoke and fumes and people and gunfire and screaming weapons and cries of the wounded. She was drowned by the warrior that had usurped her body. And there was no thought. No contemplation. No time or space. There was only action. There was only instinct.

Her body moved gracefully of its own accord. Numb to the ringing in her ears, numb to the pain inflicted upon her, she was not human in that moment… she was only a warrior; a fighter. And her body knew no limits. There was no exhaustion. There was simply adrenaline. There was kill or be killed. There was this moment; and the second to second battle for the right to breathe. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t the one to win that battle.

At one time perhaps there had been clear lines. A definite start and end to the waves of Antarian soldiers. Now it was simply chaos. The outskirts of the city a roiling mass of humans and Antarians so far intermingled that ‘retreat’ and ‘push forward’ no longer held meaning. Staying alive had become the only objective. And it was an objective that she was particularly talented at achieving.

She was a threat. And those invaders of her planet flocked to her in droves; seeking to gain the upper hand by their sheer numbers. But there was no fear. No paralyzing fear sending cold tentacles through her body. She was a force to be reckoned with. She wielded her weapons with surety and skill… merely extensions of her body. Every movement economical and effective.

The ammunition strapped to her chest would not last long. Loading it would mean vulnerable seconds that could be the end of her life. What was already loaded was used only when hands and knives were not enough. The ‘Skins’, allies and neighbors of the Antarians, were easy targets. Her trained eye could pick them out easily as they suffered in the heat. The smoking bullet holes that issued no blood were another give away.

She rammed the butt of her gun into the lower back of the Skin that had dared to come near her, swiveling to deliver a blow to the face of an Antarian coming from behind. The forced proximity due to the sheer volume of soldiers worked to her advantage. She was rushed at by a second skin whose inexperience allowed her to use the woman’s momentum to her advantage. She dodged out of the way, tripping her up before delivering the fatal blow to her lower back with the heel of her boot. She was never stationary; always a moving target… ignoring the bullets that rained around her and the blood that dripped and oozed from her body.

Her long hair escaped from its restraints as she swung in a wide arc as if in slow motion; shooting her guns as she went. Her movement halted for an endless second as she was left the only one standing in a five meter radius. Dark hair whipped against the one side of her face before slipping unnoticed back over her shoulder in the wind to reveal a long red slash across her cheek… the angry red dried blood standing in frightening and beautiful contrast with her dark coloring. Dark, unfathomable eyes shone with ferocity as she looked out across the battlefield.

She began to take a step forward towards a skin fighting one of her comrades… back completely exposed to her attack. All movement was halted by a knife to her neck.

“Take another step and I slit your throat.” A distinctly male and distinctly slimy voice said into her ear. There was hot breath on her neck. She turned her head away from his, and her hand began discreetly traveling towards her belt.

“If you were going to kill me you would have done it already.” She said back, before ramming the back of her dagger into his face. There was a crunch as his nose broke, and he reeled backwards.

She was attacked from behind again. This time far more prepared, she spun in time to plunge the dagger into the man’s stomach and then turned again to face the first man who was doubled over in pain. The bloody dagger was thrust into his back without a seconds thought.

He grunted and crumpled to the black earth.

She bent to pull it out of his back and froze. Something wasn’t right. Her instincts were screaming at her. There was no one around her. But something was off. Something niggled at her.

---***---

The battlefield was a strategic nightmare. It was pure chaos. If there had at any stage been any kind of strategy involved in this fighting it had long ago dissolved.

A movement caught his eye; pulling his attention towards its source. It was a woman.

A human woman.

Her movements were mesmerizing. She moved mindlessly, with an innate grace that was beautiful to watch; she made violence and destruction beautiful. The thought was nauseating, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His eyes strained to get a proper look at her face but she was never stationary, and her actions left him with only impressions of her. He watched as she took out a swathe of his soldiers in the passage of only a few seconds and then paused for only a moment.

He saw her in profile, her hair obscuring her face before it was whipped away to reveal the long red gash across her cheek. And then one of his men was behind her with a knife to her throat. She turned her head away from her captor and right towards him.

She took his breath away.

She was beautiful. Her eyes blazed with determination and fury. There was none of the terror he had instinctively expected to see. Even with a knife to her neck it was she who was in control. She grasped the dagger at her belt.

She was untouchable. Even with evidence of the battle she was weathering clear on her face and body, she was untouchable. Nothing could hurt her. Nothing could affect her.

Her face was cold. It looked as though it was set in stone.

In a matter of seconds she had disabled her would be attacker and killed yet another of his soldiers. He still watched her in fascination. He felt strangely detached when she stabbed the man who had almost gotten the better of her in the back.

He should have been doing something about her. He should have been trying to kill her… trying to eliminate the threat that she presented. But she paralyzed him.

And then, as if she somehow sensed him, she froze. Her constant movement very suddenly ceased as her fingers clasped around her dagger, still buried inside a man’s body.

He was seeing her in profile again, and he watched as her eyes scanned the warring crowd. After a drawn out minute she appeared satisfied. She wrenched the dagger out of the dead man’s back, and then she turned as she stood.

And for a split second their eyes met.

And then she crumpled to the ground.

---***---

His heart beat skyrocketed as he watched her falling. In his peripheral vision he could see the man who had shot her down; still holding his gun. He was frozen for a second, unable to tear his eyes away from her form. She had seemed so untouchable… so indestructible. And now she was broken. His sharp eyes watched the blood rapidly pool on the dirt below her.

He didn’t realize that his feet were taking him to her until he was there.

The sounds of the ongoing battle faded to only a buzz in his ears, and all there was was the woman before him. He knelt beside her and for a moment the immense damage to her abdomen overwhelmed him and he knelt slightly panicked with his hand outstretched above her, unable to touch her for fear. He had never done anything like this before.

And then he looked at her face. Her face that had seemed at first so cold and set in stone, and now as her life’s blood flowed out of her, seemed so vulnerable.

He hesitantly laid his hand on her abdomen and supported her head with his other hand.

“Look at me… Please! You have to look at me!” He said in desperation. He was so afraid. He couldn’t remember ever being so afraid. He didn’t know why… he didn’t think about why.

Her eyelids fluttered, and he caught a glimpse of her deep brown eyes. Her hair, matted with dried blood, clung to the side of her face and masked her from him. But her eyes were unmasked… and in the split seconds they had been open, they had contained a plea that urged him on.

At last they opened fully, and immediately he felt the connection… and then he was pulled forcefully away from the battlefield and thrown into a an overwhelming montage of her memories, flying by him so fast that all he could grasp was impressions.

But there was one that kept bombarding him… one that kept coming back to him.

A little girl lost and afraid in the aftermath of a great battle… dark eyes, lit up with unshed tears, shining like a beacon out of her dirt smeared face.

The woman was the girl. And she was still trapped in that moment… still the lost little girl wondering the remains of a broken town… still searching for the home that had crumbled around her.

He felt his energy being sapped as his body instinctively repaired hers, felt the strain as he did more than he’d ever done before… more than he was sure he was capable of for this woman that he not only did not know, but who was also his enemy.

He was suddenly torn out of their connection by a voice.

“Liz!” A human woman screamed, and with guns blazing she carved her way quickly towards them.

His second in command had just reached them, and quickly took stock of the situation. He felt himself being dragged bodily away from the woman, even as he watched her face for signs of life, and stumbled in his absolute fatigue.

And finally, as the fierce blonde woman reached her, she drew a deep breath and coughed reflexively. And just before she disappeared from sight she looked up and met his eyes… her still vulnerable face displaying confusion and wonder before her stone mask fell back into place.

---***---

Vienna, Earth, 2116

They walked into the hospital slowly and silently. The aura of apprehension and grief that surrounded them was almost palpable to those who looked up from the outdated magazines they read on the laminated chairs of the waiting room.

The man in the hideous orange shirt led them. His sure footsteps on the too-smooth floor echoed painfully in his ears. The dark haired woman who walked just behind him seemed to draw some strength from him. The most reluctant and withdrawn of their company walked a few paces behind them… a placing that only emphasized the loneliness and grief that radiated from her large, green, shadowed eyes.

They reached the front desk and the man began to quietly make inquiries. When the blonde woman finally stepped up to the desk, the dark haired woman silently and inconspicuously took her hand.

She seemed to freeze for a moment… and then she looked down at their joined hands, like they had together produced some entirely foreign entity. She gulped, as if trying to swallow a lump in her throat… and then bit down on her chapped lower lip. She lifted her eyes from her hands to stare at the gleaming sterile surface of the desk.

She didn’t pull her hand away.

The quiet murmuring of the man and the prim and pressed receptionist finally faded and he looked to the woman beside him, as if waiting for some sort of signal. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly, and her lips pressed themselves into a thinner line. Her face seemed to harden slightly… her jaw clenching and her eyes closing themselves off from the world.

And yet still she did not let go of the other woman’s hand.

The tiny blonde seemed to take in none of her surroundings. She stared blankly at the pair of pink converses her companion wore. She moved only when the hand she held on to began to move away… and then she reflexively tightened her grip on the other woman’s fingers and followed her lead down a wide corridor, her eyes crinkling under the harsh fluorescent lights.

---***---

Maria sat on one of the laminated hospital chairs as both Kyle and then Liz ventured into and out of the room she had spent so much time in. She didn’t feel the seconds ticking by. She didn’t hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights. She was stuck… swamped in painful memories and guilt; her mind and heart so fixed in that place that her body was numb.

In her minds eye she saw herself, sitting in that room right after the accident, day after day, week after week, for months. And she recalled the hope… the steady determined hope that she had sustained through all that time. That hope that had drained her in the end; for it had taken all of her energy to keep it alive. For it had not been spontaneous hope springing from a situation where optimism was encouraged, it had not been a hope that was fed by encouraging doctors and encouraging signals; it had been a determined hope that had met with bad news at every corner but fought bravely to stay alive for an impossibly long time.

She recalled the day that her hope and her optimism had finally deserted her… the day that he had crashed. The day that she had thought he would die… the day that her heart had seized up in terror as she watched sterile hospital personnel shocking his heart back to life and pumping him full of drugs. And she recalled the knowledge that had dawned on her; the knowledge that if he died all her hoping would be for nothing, all her months at his bedside would be for nothing. And she remembered knowing that she couldn’t do it anymore, knowing that she was too exhausted and too defeated to hope anymore.

And when the sterile doctors had finally come out of the room, when they had found her sitting defeated on those laminated chairs outside the door, they had told her with certainty that he wouldn’t wake up, and they had told her that they didn’t think he could hear her either. They had taken her defeat and turned it into an annihilation.

And then she had been led numbly back home, and she had shoved a few forkfuls of the food that had been put in front of her into her mouth to keep her mother happy, and she had stood under the scalding shower spray, and she had climbed into her bed. And she hadn’t been able to pull herself out of that bed for days.

And when she finally did manage to pull herself out of bed at 05:32 am on a rainy Tuesday morning she had sworn to herself that she would never allow herself to be like that again. And then she had walked out of the front door and she hadn’t gone back… not to the hospital, not home, not to anywhere familiar… not until now.

She was pulled out of her swamp of thoughts by Liz’s soft hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, startled, to meet dark eyes that belonged to Liz Parker. Those wells of grief and sadness and fear and too-much-knowledge that had once been so different from her own, but now seemed only reflections of what she saw every time she looked in the mirror. She hated looking in the mirror.

“It’s your turn.” Liz said simply.

And then suddenly Maria was numb again. Her eyes were fixed on some patch of air just above Liz’s shoulder and her head was nodding slowly of its own accord, and then her feet were taking a stumbling path towards the doorframe she hadn’t walked through in more than a year; but her mind didn’t register any of this. All it was capable of was weakly whispering ‘no… no…no…’ in time with the pounding of her heart.

AN: Hi everyone! I’m really sorry this is so late, it’s also rather short but it was the best I could do, and where I ended it seemed like a good place to end. Special thanks to Michelle in Yonkers to whose persistence you owe this chapter!

Huge thanks also to my other feed backers: xmag, begonia9508, raemac, Timelord31, tinie38, bettylove8, Michelle in Yonkers, omwf, Buddha-boy and Alien614! You guys are fabulous!!!

If you haven't checked out the banner go have a look at that too, it's beautiful, and credit for it's presence should go to it's creator Amelie as well as bettylove8 who talked me through getting it up... thanks so much guys!

Chapter 6: Aftershock
Johannesburg, Earth, 2117

Max felt himself being propelled forward, though his mind was not with his stumbling feet and his eyes were not on his path. Both were locked firmly on her. And for one unending moment his breath stilled as he watched her… until she came to life and his first breath of smoggy air was drawn in sync with hers. And he felt something strangely akin to relief as he watched her cough and splutter; but he didn’t quite understand why.

And when their eyes met it seemed somehow more significant than any simple meeting of eyes had seemed before.

But then he could almost feel her barriers slamming back into place and her face hardened and life suddenly seemed to go from slow motion to turbo speed so that he lost sight of her and was once again overwhelmed by the rush of the battle.

Gun fire assaulted his ears, soldiers fought at frantic pace around him and soon the girl was driven forcibly from his mind as he was forced to fight his way towards their destination… though where that was he knew not.

At last they reached an Antarian ship.

He turned to Michael in question.

“We’ve been ordered back.” His second told him simply.

“By whom?” Max asked impatiently, barely concealing his anger.

“Your father.”

“What?” He asked furiously. “We’ve achieved nothing! Is all this destruction to be for nothing? I’m here on his orders and for no other reason and now he’s changed his mind? What were his reasons?”

“It seems he’s finally worked out what a strategical nightmare this is… the only thing we can do now is retreat.”

Max turned around and blasted the mine dump the ship took shelter by with such force that he couldn’t see his hand in front of him at first for all the dust he had disturbed. Then he whorled back around and barked at his second;

“Give the order for the retreat!”

“I already did, sire.” Michael barked back sarcastically.

Max ignored the sarcasm, a sure sign that his second in command and best friend was not happy with him. He stormed up into the ship which was already almost ready to leave; the techies at the controls working frantically on the many intricate buttons and levers and gauges and screens.

He strode into the small private quarters that he and Michael shared and slammed the door behind him before collapsing onto his bunk and holding is head in his hands. He couldn’t believe it! Couldn’t believe that his father had sent him all this way for nothing!

He had spent hours arguing against this... hours trying to convince his father that attacking Johannesburg was the stupidest idea this side of the century; to no avail.

And so he had come; like the good little soldier, the good little son he was, he had followed orders. He had led his men, his men, into a battle he believed ridiculous, for his father… or rather his king. And now they would retreat? Now they would abandon the cause so many of his men had fought and died for?

“Aaaauh!” He roared, slamming his fists into their small table so hard that it cracked down the middle.

A moment later Michael strode into the room.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Maxwell?” He demanded, and Max didn’t need to look at his face to know he was pissed off.

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing Michael?” He spat back.

“It looks like you’re having a hissy fit for all of earth and half of Antar to see because things aren’t going your way!” Michael spat back.

Silence enveloped them as Max glared holes in the cracked table while Michael glared holes in him.

“Suck it up Max.” Michael finally said. “Things are never going to go the way you planned and having a melt down sure as hell won’t change that. All you’re doing is disconcerting the men and women who look to you for leadership!”

“They couldn’t even understand a bloody word we said!”

“Are you kidding me?” Michael asked in anger, pacing the limited floor space until he stood directly in front of Max wearing an expression that made it clear that he would like nothing better at that moment than to hit his future king. “Maybe they don’t speak English Maxwell… or any other human language, but they aren’t fucking stupid! They can tell when something’s wrong no matter what language you speak, you got that? So you just better start acting like a leader instead of bloody spoilt kid!” He said before making for the doorway.

Just as he’d reached it he changed his mind and swiveled around to face his superior.

“And while we’re talking about stupid,” He said, “Just what the hell was that stunt you pulled with the human girl? Have you lost your mind?”

He waited for an answer but got none.

“You just remember that they are the enemy, no matter how pretty she looked. And you remember that the energy you wasted on her could have been used to heal one of ours… somebody’s wife, or sister, or son.”

Then he turned and left, leaving Max to brood.

----------

The journey was by far the longest that Max had ever made. It didn’t matter that he’d spent far longer in a ship before, or that he’d made the exact same journey only days before and it had slipped by in what seemed like mere seconds. This one was stretched out for what seemed like an eternity by the wealth of awkwardness he had somehow managed to create in only a few minutes, as well as by the guilt and self recrimination.

Michael was right and Max knew it. And that only made the long hours he had to spend with him all the harder to endure.

Never before had Max been glad to get out of the ship and step into the city of his birth. Never before had his hatred of being on a ship been so great that it surpassed his dread of seeing his King, of doing his princely duties and dealing with the shambles that was his family.

This time it did.

This time there was only relief when he stepped into the dry desert air of his home.

His relief didn’t last long.

--------------
Antar, 2117

The palace was complete chaos, teaming with soldiers and panicked and confused looking servants and courtiers. It was immediately clear that there was something seriously wrong, but that nobody really knew what.

After only a few moments of standing in the chaos of the entrance Max was hurried away by an official looking man whose title he didn’t even bother to ask. To his surprise he was ushered towards their living quarters.

The palace official stopped just outside his fathers’ private study and indicated that he should go in.

Max expected to see his father when he entered the room. He expected the harsh ruler to be sitting behind the desk surrounded by a group of high ranking military men getting ready to rip into him over their defeat on earth, finding some convenient way to blame him, and maybe, if Max was lucky, the chaos would be explained after the verbal abuse that was the only kind of communication his father knew.

What he did not expect was what he saw when he walked into that room. Michael’s father, General Rath, sitting behind the desk with expression so weary that Max immediately knew that something was horribly wrong, as well as his sister, sitting in one of the tall uncomfortable chairs that faced the desk with posture so uncomfortably perfect that his heart started beating triple time in fear.

Isabel turned at the sound of the door opening and as soon as she saw him it seemed as if every emotion she had been keeping at bay with a wall of ice was suddenly set free. Her face crumpled and she sagged in her seat, sobbing hysterically.

Max froze where he was, silently turning to Rath for an explanation with hardened eyes that betrayed none of his apprehension. The General, who had risen to his feet on Max’s entrance, seemed to know immediately what was expected of him. He bowed respectfully before meeting Max’s eyes and getting strait to the point.

“Your father has been assassinated Sire.” He said.

Isabel’s sobs increased in volume, but Max didn’t notice. The words were something he couldn’t have prepared himself for; no matter how sure he had been on walking through the door that it was coming. And no amount of preparation could have spared him the shock of having to hear them. He was numb. Totally and completely numb to everything and everyone except the buzzing in his head.

AN: As per usual the only way to get me writing is to feedback, so if you aren't getting an update fast enough plague me with pm's or plenty of feedback and you'll eventually get an update, as evidenced by this chapter! Plus if you leave me some feedback I'll love you forever... hope you enjoyed it

Mac
Mwa!

AN: This chapter is especially for Michelle in Yonkers… happy very belated birthday! Sorry this didn’t get to you on your birthday… I have a habit of being constantly run off my feet with things I should do. And also computers don’t like me… they do nasty things like refuse to work when I go near them.

Thanks so much to all of you who left feedback: xmag, Timelord31, tinie38, (the ever demanding ) Michelle in Yonkers (x3), begonia9508, Buddha-boy, Alien614 and bettylove8! You guys are wonderful!

Enjoy! And sorry for all the errors that no doubt riddle this chapter… usually I keep it for a few days before I post it so I can look over it with fresh eyes… but in the interest of getting it up as fast as possible for the birthday girl correctness was sacrificed!

Chapter 8: Spreading Grace
Antarius, Antar, 2117

He seemed to be floating. All through the days after his fathers’ death he allowed himself to be ushered around to everything he was supposed to go to by the bevy of concerned servants and demanding dignitaries. But he didn’t take anything in. He was too numb.

The state funeral was enormous. It was conducted as every funeral for a royal family member for thousands of years had been conducted. It was held on the large palace balcony, easily the size of two ballrooms, overlooking the Tarsus square, the very heart of Antarius, Antar’s capital city. Dignitaries ruined the palace balcony’s grass and ate expensive cuisine while hundreds and thousands of mourning Antarians congregated below… all traditionally dressed in reds and whites.

Rïarté in bright white gowns; luminous in the harsh sunlight and seeming to be composed of mercury and moonlight, played with haunting beauty their traditional instruments in effortless synchrony and fluidity.

Isabel and Max walked together through the gathered crowd of dignitaries towards the balconies edge where the priest stood; their fathers’ ashes held high between them.

Their feet were bare, green grass caressed their toes as they made their long walk. Isabel wore the traditional flowing Antarian gown in red and white; in her hair was a black ribbon, a small tribute to a small part of her heritage. Max was similarly dressed in a loose fitting long red shirt and white pants. The blood red sleeves fell around his shoulders as he held the urn above their heads.

The priest spoke with hands held high over the urn; still raised, now to the view of the kingdom, above Max and Isabel. Their arms ached. Isabel’s tears flowed unchecked by any hand.

Ancient, simple Antarian words flowed over them; offering hope and comfort, honoring the dead and soothing the grieving hearts of the living. And then at last it was time to let go.

The priest stepped aside in deference to the family.

Max and Isabel walked forward to the very edge of the high balcony and slowly tipped the urn, the last remains of their father being carried by the wind over the people, who stood with arms and faces raised and eyes closed in prayer as the priest said his final words, and Max and Isabel echoed him.

“May the Spirit of this great King go with you, may the winds carry him over our beloved land of Antar, spreading his grace among the people and bringing his wrongs to an end, so that he is at last worthy of a place with the Holy One in eternal rest.”

And then when the final quiet Antarian word had been spoken by the royals, the Rïarté again began to play as the crowned prince and the princess of Antar went out among the people.

---------------

The day after the funeral state business, which had been on hold since the Kings death, resumed and Max as crowned prince was overwhelmed by a veritable deluge.

Bombarded by every sector and as yet with very limited power, not being the King, the burden of being the leader of a planet suddenly hit him in full force. The exhaustion of only a few hours of work suddenly grew exponentially when he was faced with the many other diplomatic leaders of Antar’s provinces, who were second in rank only to the royals. They were to assist him, they were to make known to him the problems of the people, they were to advise him as far as possible, however full weight of the entire planet rested solely on his shoulders no matter how many diplomatically elected leaders were presented to him. He could delegate where he wished yes, but his was always to be the final say. The fate of his world sat on his conscience alone.

And in a way this was what they came to speak of; his aloneness.

He had known he would have to deal with the issue, but perhaps he had been naive enough to allow the optimistic hope that it wouldn’t be brought up for a while. Perhaps he had been so eager to avoid the issue, even in his head, that he had refused even to think about it.

So when the many rather over the hill advisors made their appearance, most wearing rather grim looks, he was less than prepared to face the topic. And yet the topic would be faced… their grim looks which had given the topic to be under discussion away in the first place, told him also that they were determined to have it out.

General Rath and Michael came with them, Michael coming to sit at his side, a silent gesture of solidarity.

Katharee was the first to speak, the fact that the seasoned and wise woman was always so honest and to the point had at one stage been a source of great respect for her in Max’s eyes. Now he could not but resent it for forcing upon him something he had for so long run from.

“Sire, we have come to speak to you of Marriage, for as you know it is required by law for the Crowned Prince to be bound in marriage in order to succeed the throne and come into possetion of all that power that only a King may have.”

“I am well aware of the laws of my country Katharee, and of the fact that there can be no King without a Queen.”

“Sire,” The General said, “Though it is not our place to advise you on whom and when you should marry, we feel we should advise you that a partner would be invaluable to you, and your ancestors in their strength and wisdom knew that the responsibility of ruling Antar could not fall to the share of only one.”

Both spoke English, though rather formally and stiltedly, because they knew he was more comfortable with it. But speaking in his favored language did nothing to lessen his hatred of their subject.

“I will not marry only for the sake of marrying.” Max said bluntly, in a tone that spoke clearly of his anger as well as indicated that the subject was closed to him. And yet the subject was not closed to those who wished to be heard, for as formidable as he was he was not yet their King, for many of them he was the little prince that had tugged on their skirts as they came into work, or excitedly demonstrated some new toy… and for the sake of that boy they would be heard.

“My Lord,” A new person spoke this time, an older man with face hardened by many cares; Wesson. “Though we would not wish an unhappy marriage upon you, we are at war. As such we need a King, not a crowned prince overworked and restricted by the laws that would not allow him the ease of execution of any plan that might pertain to war. You need our laws on your side; not restricting your every move. And you need one to share with you the burdens of being a King.”

“I feel the burdens of being a King now, without its privileges! This law does me no favors as you imply!”

“Perhaps,” Said Katharee, “The law was not put in place to please you, but to protect your planet and your people.”

“And if I should marry anyone who came into my path, how would that be protecting my people?”

“An unworthy person would never win the respect of Antarians and would therefore never be crowned Queen or receive the power to harm the people.” Katharee replied.

“And how then should I choose a wife? There is no woman I would choose for her sake alone, and in choosing at random I would risk her being rejected by the people… being unable to rule, and thereby preventing me from ever succeeding fully to the throne, though the responsibility of Antar would still be all mine, as well as the misery of a loveless marriage! As far as I can see, in risking marriage I only risk greater hardship than I will have to endure alone.”

“The life of a King can never be said to be easy, but it is your duty to serve the people. You must do what your own conscience must tell you is best for Antar.” Wesson said stoically.

AN: Hi everyone... hope you enjoy this chapter. I have the sneaking suspision that I didn't reply to all the feedback... so I'm sorry if I managed to accidentaly skip you... I can't remember who I've replied to and who I haven't... it's the seive memory again! Forgive me? I really appreciate all the feedback!

Thanks so much to: raemac, bettylove8, twilight, Michelle in Yonkers, Tears_of_Mercury, cassie, begonia9508, xmag, tinie38, Timelord31, omwf and paper! You guys are amazing... and if I accidentaly skipped you out, feel free to pm me to let me know... and then I'll send you your reply!

Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Healer

“You must do what your own conscience must tell you is best for Antar.” Wesson had said.

Max sat in his quarters mulling over the words. Was his marriage what was best for Antar? Maybe. Though he was loathe to admit it. Antar needed a leader… one who could get things done. And he had learn’t the hard way in the last few days alone that trying to get anything done as only the crowned prince was a nightmare; full of mountains of paperwork and far too many provincial leaders. Everything he did had to be approved by the council; made up of representatives from each province of Antar. Men and women who spent so long arguing the pros and cons of every action, that should any kind of emergency arise, by the time they had either approved or not allowed his plan it would be too late.

Marriage was the only way.

It was a tough realization to come to.

He sat for hours, motionless at his desk, his mind and heart in turmoil, his eyes blind to the day that was passing him by slowly beyond his window panes.

He was caught in his own mind until deep red light fell onto his tan hands from the ancient stained glass borders of his window. His hands were red. Red with blood. Disgust pooled within him and he swiftly pulled his hands under the desk… hiding them from his sight, hiding his shame.

They were at war. Killing was necessary. His father had told him that when he had found him crying at his mothers’ grave at 15 after he had killed the first time. It was kill or be killed. And in the heat of the moment there was no thought… there was pure survival instinct. But later, when the battle was won, there was blood staining his uniform that he knew didn’t belong to him. And there was sudden painful remembrance of eyes full of pain for seconds before they became glazed and the light of life left them.

And there was remembrance of his mother. His mother who had been so proud of his gift… the gift that had been so guarded. She had told him he had healing hands. She had told him that his was a beautiful gift. And he distinctly remembered the look of disappointment in her eyes when he had accidentally pushed Isabel down a flight of stairs when he was about ten. And her words, gentle and sad;

“I know it was an accident, but you shouldn’t have been fighting with your sister. You should know better. You shouldn’t have pushed her. Your hands were meant to heal, Max, not to hurt.”

Her words echoed in his ears.

She had never been angry. Sometimes he thought it was because she just didn’t have the energy. She had been sick for so long that all her energy had been sapped away. And yet she had still been luminous. She had floated around the palace carrying light with her and into the lives of everyone who met her. Her hazel eyes though smudged below with black, always held a smile.

And to the end she had protected her children from the man she had married; from their father whom she had never loved; at least not as a husband.

He had seen first hand how destructive his parents’ marriage had been. His mother, crowned princess, had been forced by her father the King into an arranged marriage at an early age. She had married a soldier; an Antarian man her father knew could lead them in the war they had been engaged in since the bloody death of her mother. She had married a man who would never really know how to love her, who would be held in check by her only until her death; when there would be no force to soften his blows.

He had been allowed been allowed to come home from training right before she died when he was thirteen. He remembered how frail she had looked in her bed. How the light that shone softly on her seemed as if it might go though her she was so insubstantial a thing. Or perhaps it was as if she was made of light and soon life would not be able to keep her trapped in any one form.

“I’m so proud of you my Max,” She had said, “You’ll be a good King one day. I know you will; you’re a healer. And you’ll be a good man. I have faith in you Max. Remember to let people take care of you too sometimes okay? Promise me you’ll remember that?”

Her words had been disjointed and barely audible. And at the time he hadn’t really understood why she wanted him to promise to let people take care of him. But they were words that had stuck with him… the last ones she had been able to say to him before her broken body, always so very much at war with itself, had quietly given in… and she had fallen into a coma that she was destined not to wake up from.

She had wanted him to bring healing. He knew that. She had had faith in his ability to heal even though he hadn’t been capable of saving her. How was he to heal the rent between two planets fighting a century old war when he hadn’t even been able to heal the war between two races that had occurred in her body?

She had had faith in him. Now he must have faith in himself. And perhaps if somewhere she was watching over him, she would help him keep his promise to her. Perhaps it was alright to hope.

----------------

When she heard she didn’t know how to feel. Her world was turned so upside down and inside out that it was suddenly incomprehensible to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that perhaps she should be happy… that everything she had fought for now seemed within their grasp. But it all seemed so surreal. It all seemed so unbelievable. And she didn’t quite know how to react to the fact that the life she knew… the only life she had ever known… was coming to an end.

Antar had proposed peace.

They were offering a treaty.

And the leaders of earth knew better than to refuse. Liz knew this. Perhaps nothing was yet set in stone, but to her it was a certainty that the war that had raged since long before her birth would now come to an end.

She sat on the roof of her fathers building, watching the people busily getting on with their lives below her.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know that soon there would be an end to the perpetual terror. They didn’t know that soon their children or spouses or siblings or parents or friends would be safe at home with them… released from their duty to their planet. They didn’t know that soon there would be a change of such magnitude that it would turn the lives of everyone on their planet upside down, just as the start of the war had so many years before.

They didn’t know what it was like to not be at war.

She didn’t either.

For the very first time in her life she wondered if she wanted to know… really wanted to know. She had always had something to fight for. Now suddenly she felt useless. What were you supposed to do when you got what you’d been fighting for, but fighting was the only thing you knew?

---------------

Nobody questioned General Parker when he led his daughter into the room to hear the terms of the peace treaty along with earth’s leaders. She had fought for this with them. Somehow it seemed only fitting that she, the one who inspired hope in them all, the one who had won the respect of their planet, the one who had fought with strength and courage for her people more than perhaps anyone else, was with them when it came to an end.

She took her seat quietly beside her father, her countenance subdued, her eyes unreadable.

And then she watched as the Antarian delegate walked into the room, the small almost unnoticeable differences between him and the humans immediately leaping out at her. His skin was very tan, and seemed almost to glow slightly if you looked very carefully. His eyes also carried this glow, their green color seeming almost luminous in the dim lighting. The colors of his uniform, in contrast, were subdued, only the red Antarian emblem differentiating him from any other human soldier.

He spoke English; rather haltingly and very formally and politely… it was a reconciliatory gesture that was not lost on Liz.

She listened as he rattled off the many terms they were proposing. None of them were unfair. They could have safely demanded much more. They wanted guaranteed safe passage of their soldiers back to Antar. Return of any prisoners of war in exchange for the human prisoners they held. They wanted all human soldiers to withdraw from Antar immediately. The list went on; but it was still a short one. Antar’s leader wished to set up meetings with the leaders of earth in order to foster peace. There were various agreements to be made about suitable trails for those who broke the terms of the treaty…

All in all Liz Parker sat listening to what she believed to be the fairest and all around nicest peace treaty that had ever been written. She felt the strange urge to laugh. Never had there been such a document in all of history! The human leaders seemed to be thinking along the same lines judging from their facial expressions; they all seemed to be hiding surprise.

The light feeling inside of her however, was suddenly destroyed by the very last term of peace.

“In an effort to guarantee peace between the planets of Earth and Antar and to set an example for the people’s of both, a marriage between His Royal Highness the Crowned Prince of Antar and an equivalent public figure on Earth of suitable age shall take place within a month or the peace treaty will be considered null and void.”

She blinked. She blinked again. She pinched herself.

The delegate kept looking at her. He didn’t dissolve into nothingness.

“Could you please repeat that?” She asked and the entire human component of the room nodded along with her.

The delegate repeated what he had said. He then proceeded to place copies of the treaty before them as he recited the last part. The treaty was to be signed by everyone in the room and delivered to the Antarian delegate in the next 48 hours, along with the name of the future bride of Antar’s Crowned Prince; or the war would be resumed. At least that was what Liz gathered; though she was too busy inspecting the black and white version of the delegate’s final term to pay too much attention.

And then she realized that the treaty was signed not by the King of Antar, but by the Crowned Prince. Her father had just realized the same thing.

“Why is this treaty not signed by the King?” General Parker demanded.

“The King is dead.” He replied simply. “The Crowned Prince is to assume the throne with the human girl as his Queen when he has been married… should the Antarian people accept her. The Prince would like a private audience with the General to discuss this further.”

Unexplained fear gripped Liz’s heart. Somewhere in the back of her mind, as much as she consciously refused to acknowledge the thought, she knew that she was the only suitable candidate.

She was Earths only equivalent of a princess. She was the only one who would be seen as capable of ruling a planet. The only other woman of suitable age, high enough profile and with a decent amount of leadership experience was Maria. Anyone else that was relatively well known did not have the respect of Earths people as a leader. This, although she would not allow herself to think about it, was known to her in her heart.

It would have to be her. She was the only one. She wouldn’t allow it to be Maria… she wouldn’t be able to cope. She wouldn’t refuse to do it… too many lives were at stake. And though in denial, the fear in her heart already belied the fact that her fate was sealed. Her character and role on her planet would allow nothing less.

Her father seemed to sense it too. His mouth hardened into a grim line as he followed the delegate away into an adjacent room to speak to the future King of Antar.

AN: Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long... and I know I said not for another two weeks... but then I couldn't help myself... blame Michelle! Anyway, thank you so much to all of you who sent feedback: twilight, Tears_of_Mercury, C&N214, ShatteredDreamer, Alien614, tinie38, begonia9508, cjsl8ne, omwf, raemac, Michelle in Yonkers, paper, Timelord31, urpersonaloddball, katydid, December and Morning Dreamgirl! You guys are awesome... enjoy!

Chapter Nine: Ritual Sacrifice

General Parker stood up from his seat beside his daughter and wearily followed the Antarian delegate into a private chamber where he would have an audience with the crowned prince.

His face was set; his expression (though naturally hard) was more grim than usual. His mouth flattened into a strait line and the small amount of good humor that usually lingered about his eyes had fled.

There was fear in his heart. Fear for his daughter.

He knew, instinctively, that she would be the logical choice of a bride for the Prince… that she would be the one on the mind of every leader he had just left in that room that now seemed so ghastly.

She would be the ritual sacrifice.

As a General he knew she must do what was necessary.

As a father he wanted nothing more than to put his foot down. To insist that she had sacrificed enough. To bundle her up and ship her off to some remote location where no one would be able to find her or force her into something as repugnant as an arranged marriage. An arranged marriage to one who was the leader of the race she had always considered enemies no less.

The guilt weighed him down. The walk to the private room seemed endless. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have brought her up so immersed in this war… perhaps then she wouldn’t have enlisted. He shouldn’t have allowed her to enlist. He should have made sure she remained lower profile. He shouldn’t have allowed her to become such an icon.

He had allowed her to become Earth’s Princess.

He might as well have signed her up to be Antar’s Queen.

He felt nauseous.

The room he was led into was small… he felt claustrophobic, though he had been in it a thousand times before without any similar feelings. He knew why he was feeling this way. He felt as though he was being trapped into this. And the trap was partially of his own making… though he hadn’t known what he was making until the cage was built up around him and there was no escape.

A large screen spanned one wall of the room; it’s main feature, and he took a seat before it, readying himself for a talk with a man on another planet. A man he knew nothing about except the fact that he was offering peace in exchange for his daughter. He forced himself to push that thought aside. The crowned prince knew nothing of Liz… and now he must be a General; a leader of millions rather than a father of one.

And perhaps that one could still be saved from this fate. Perhaps the crowned prince would demand something of his bride that would exclude Liz… perhaps the Queen had to be taller than five foot six. The General would not admit even to himself that he had never in his life entertained quite such a foolish hope.

The screen flickered into life and the door snapped closed behind him… and then suddenly he was alone with the crowned prince.

----
Max sat nervously in his office before the large screen trying to calm himself before this meeting. Trying to think like a King; like a leader of millions of people, rather than like a man marching toward the gallows… a man caught in a trap entirely of his own making.

The silence was deafening… it was as if even the birds that usually flocked to the courtyard outside his office window knew that Antar was on the brink of a new era.

The high comfortable chair his father had occupied for the duration of his reign seemed suddenly made of unforgiving wood as Max shifted uneasily on it, unable to keep still.

And then; before he felt even remotely prepared, he received notification that General Parker was ready to have an audience with him.

This was necessary; he reminded himself… he had to marry for the good of his people. And if he was to marry a Human; anyone in fact that he could not choose himself, he must be sure that those who would choose her understood the importance of their choice. And understood what was needed in the girl if she was to have any hope of winning the respect of their people.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and switched on the screen to speak with General Parker… a man all his advisors respected and described as fair and reasonable.

When Max looked into the eyes of the man on the screen what he saw was not what he had expected. For though the terms of the treaty were such that any General should rejoice at, there was a grim set to this man’s face that was eerily similar to what he had seen in the mirror that morning.

----

Liz sat in the silent room staring blankly at the document before her. Each second seemed an hour. Each rustle of paper was a scream to her ears.

And though every other person in the room pretended to be intent on the treaty before them, she could feel their eyes on her… their gazes burning into the back of her neck.

The weight of their expectation was a burden on her heart.

And she felt trapped.

Frozen into place by this new revelation.

And completely blindsided.

As a soldier she had been prepared for any eventuality but this one. And some tiny part of her; the small part that had managed to survive against all odds and cherish tiny whisps of long forgotten dreams, sobbed inside her at the loss of the future that had for one brief moment been at her fingertips.

And all the while the greater part of her; the cynical part, the part that life had beaten the dreams from too long ago, surrendered to what it knew would be its fate with steely resignation. It held its head high as it marched towards the gallows; knowing it had always been its duty, its fate, to be the ritual sacrifice.

And as she sat there; shackled to her seat with grief and resignation lancing through her at intervals, she wished she could scream. Scream until her voice grew hoarse… completely empty her lungs and force out all of this unwanted emotion… and then just fly away.

Fly high into the sky… up, up, up into glorious white nothingness.

----
The Generals first impression of the Crowned Prince was that he was very young… perhaps too young to be ruling a ruling a planet. He was Liz’s age, maybe a year or two older. The thought made the Generals heart sink… she was already looking like a suitable candidate.

The young man spoke first, in perfect, unaccented English.

“General Parker, I’m Max Evans the Crowned Prince of Antar. I’m pleased to meet you.”

The General nodded his head… the most polite acknowledgement he could muster up.

“What do you wish to discuss your highness… the terms of the treaty have been made explicitly clear.” General Parker asked.

“I wish to clarify the last term. I feel I need to make clear to you what is required of the woman who is to be my wife… as it is only fair that this woman is equipped to be Queen and has agreed to marry me with the full knowledge of what is required of her.” The formal words Max used seemed unfitting coming from his mouth… as if he was just as loathe to say them as the General was to hear them.

“Fair enough.” The General said shortly, “Let’s get to it then shall we?”

For moment Max looked uncertain, before the momentary expression passed to be replaced by a steely determination. He took a deep breath and launched into what seemed to be a well rehearsed monologue.

“When the girl you have chosen and I get married I will be allowed to ascend the throne and take my place as King. My wife however cannot become the official Queen of Antar unless she is of Royal blood or if she is democratically voted Queen by the people. So my wife will be a consort until such time as she is able to win over the people. It’s extremely important that she is a woman capable of doing this as well as a woman who will not abuse the power that will come with being the Queen. We can only rule fully, properly, as King and Queen because there are complementary duties and therefore power and privileges, that come with each position.”

“It is imperative that my wife be an excellent leader, someone with experience as a leader, someone who commands respect and also someone who is trained to fight; as the Queen is expected to fight in the event of a war.”

Liz’s father’s heart sunk as he listened to this description.

“And for yourself?” The General asked, hoping against hope that he could somehow find something that excluded Liz from the list of candidates she was currently sitting at the top of. “You’ve described very well what is required of your Queen, but what do you want in your wife?”

Max paused, rather taken aback by the question. He had assumed what he wanted would be unimportant to this man. He had never allowed himself to think about the qualities he wanted in a wife. His brow furrowed slightly and the silence stretched out between them.

“Is there any particular way you want her to look?”

The image of the girl he had healed on the battlefield that day suddenly flashed through his mind. He hadn’t thought about her in the many months following his father’s death; an event that had overshadowed every other aspect of his life due to its consequences. He shook his head to clear the image. He would never see her again. And it didn’t matter what his wife looked like. He told the General this.

“Are there any skill she should have then?” The man pressed, “Like perhaps you’d like her to be able to cook?” The General silently willed the man in front of him to say yes.

“Aside from being a skilled in battle and a leader there are no particular skills I want in my wife.” Max replied.

“How about her age?” The General was beginning to get desperate.

“I’m 26… so a woman between the ages of about 21 to 28 would probably be the best.” Max replied.

“Is there nothing else; no particular personality trait… nothing?”

For a second it seemed to Max as if the man in front of him was transformed by an expression of vulnerability into a boy. But the expression quickly disappeared. Max pondered the question. What did he want in a wife? He felt the urge to release the bitter laugh that was building in his chest. Was he to tell those small, secret, deep-buried hopes to this man when they had been smothered by the treaty he had offered to him? By a term he had created for this man’s own good though he seemed not remotely grateful.

And yet against his own will he found himself speaking.

“I’m not naïve enough to expect love General. But respect would be nice. I would like you to choose someone I can respect… and someone who will respect me despite the fact that I am Antarian. I would like to marry someone who will have compassion and care for her people… the people of Antar. Don’t have me marry a woman who will hold a grudge against us for a past we had very little to do with. And perhaps I would like someone who could grow into a friend… a help and support. But maybe that is too much to ask.”

General Parker found himself grudgingly respecting the man that sat before him and he felt something else too, something he had never felt for Max’s father… it was compassion. Though the fruitless hope he had allowed himself to entertain had been dashed… because although he didn’t know it, the crowned prince had pretty much hand picked his daughter. She was maybe the only woman capable of leading with him and the only woman that was capable of the compassion Max spoke of for a people not her own.

She would put the past behind her… she would not hold a grudge against Antar.

----

By the time the footfalls of the General could be heard coming towards the door it seemed as though days of silence had passed in the interim. She pulled her eyes from the crisp white paper before her, the words having long ago gone blurry when she had drifted away from the room and all its heavy expectations.

When she looked up she met her fathers’ eyes… and in them she found an expression she had grown far too familiar with as a child. It was the expression he’d worn when he had to back out of a promised outing or tell her he wasn’t going to be able to watch her soccer game. An expression that said ‘I’m so sorry’ and revealed the guilt he felt at the same time.

But this time it seemed to be so much more serious… and in the expression was grief and apprehension and regret mixed in with what she was used to seeing… there were so many unreadable thoughts in his eyes. But mostly there was sorrow.

And she knew what his sorrow meant. It meant that the King wanted her, though the King didn’t know it.

But that expression was only conformation of what she had instinctively known already.

She closed her eyes for a moment… a brief moment of solitude to gather herself together, to suppress her rebellious heart and put on the armor she wore into battle… courage and strength, dredged up from some deep well within her that she could only hope would not run dry soon.

Then she took a deep breath, opened her eyes and stood.

Oddly, in standing, it felt as though the shackles that had bound her in the chair had broken. She had taken control. No one would tell her to do this. She would tell them.

The noise of her chair scraping drew all eyes towards her. She looked strait at her father and for a split second she saw immense fear in his eyes. He knew… he knew what she was going to do. And he hated it as much as she did. And she had never seen him so scared before. She had never seen him rattled like this. Suddenly he wasn’t her invincible father. He was a scared Dad.

But it was too late to go back now. There was no other way. Her choice was made.

“I will do it.”