Walk the Edge of Shadows (UC, Mi/L, Mature) Complete ~ 5/19
Posted: Sat Feb 20, 2010 11:19 pm
Title: Walk the Edge of Shadows; Book One in the Chains of Fate Series
Spoilers: All of Roswell is up for grabs though it seriously differs from canon
Category: UC, AU, Ensemble Fic
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Pre-Polar, Max (and Maria) Friendly, no real pairings until the second sequel but placing in UC board because I think the whole series fits best here.
Summary: Alternate Universe in which Michael was the first to let in a human, long before they were old enough to realize the consequences.
Warning: This story will depict scenes of child abuse, not graphic.
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
A/N: This is a story I originally posted on Roswell Fanatics a long time ago but never finished and am now resurrecting as a Polar series. I’ve always loved Michael when portrayed as a big brother and wanted to explore that without changing the relationships of the original characters. I considered making Liz his sister as I've seen that done a few times and enjoyed it but that would make it a little creepy when I put them together romantically so instead I created an OC, hopefully I’ve avoided the dread Mary Sue.
Also I believe it is accepted show canon that Michael had several foster families before he went to Hank but I chose not to explore any of those and he's going to Hank at age 6 in my fic and not going anywhere else. I’m going with the theory that Michael’s last name came from whoever found him and that Hank’s last name is Whitmore which is the consensus I seemed to find on various boards and IMDB. (And my betas confirmed it!)
And once again to reiterate this is an ensemble fic and all characters friendly so there will be absolutely zero bashing of anyone, I think a fan of any character could read this, that was my goal anyways. I hope you all enjoy and you know I loooves the feedback
Betas: This story has actually had three fabulous betas, Keri Anne who is now answering the call of real life, and currently the amazingly talented Kathy and Ashita are both helping me with the series so all of them deserve massive thanks.
July 6, 1989
The small boy peered at the empty room through his tousled brown hair, the faint echoes of screams still ringing in his ears. He had not meant to scare them; he just wanted to show them the trick he had learned. Pulling his knees to his chest, he rested his chin on them, furiously blinking back tears.
“I’ll never show anyone again,” he vowed, pushing the sadness down and burying it with anger.
“Why?” a voice asked, interrupting his descent into enforced solitude.
He raised his head in surprise to see a girl kneeling in front of him; a cloud of dark red curls surrounding her upturned face, her clear blue-green eyes filled with open curiosity. He did not answer her, just stared as puzzlement and anger warred for control, both hiding the pain he had not managed to erase.
“It was neat. What you did.”
That startled a reaction out of him and before he could stop himself he asked, “But, the others? They were...They didn’t like it.”
She smiled. “They’re silly,” she said, and then touched his hand, still smiling. “Will you show me? What you can do?”
He watched her for a moment and then reached out, cupping his hands together in the space between them and meeting her gaze with a tentative smile of his own as his hands began to glow, radiating a pure white light that filled the room.
Her face shone with delight as she returned his small smile with a big grin. His smile widened and the wall he had begun to build around himself started to crumble.
August 19, 1989
A group of them had backed her into a corner; their childish faces made ugly with cruelty. “Why do you keep hanging out with that freak?” the oldest girl asked, her hands reaching out to pinch painfully.
Their expressions were dark with malice as they loomed over her and she struck back with the only weapon an angry six-year-old had; “You’re the freaks!”
One of the boys shoved her to the floor, all five of them smiling as she yelped in pain.
A moment later they collapsed with a shocking suddenness to the ground in a pile at her feet, felled by the equally angry six-year-old standing with raised hands in the doorway. Her tear-stained face turned towards him, a smile lighting her eyes as he walked forward, and with a gentleness belying the rage on his face, pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room.
They hid themselves behind a tree in the orphanage’s small backyard, just sitting quietly for a few minutes - one watching the ladybug crawling across her palm, the other watching the clouds floating placidly in the sky.
The boy brought his gaze down to the girl as the small red insect took flight, hovering between their faces before disappearing into the blades of grass, and then he reached out and touched the finger shaped bruises on her arms, the dark marks disappearing in a trail of white light.
Her mouth formed a perfect circle of surprise before curving into a smile. “New trick?”
He smiled back, the expression grown more natural with practice. “New trick.”
October 3, 1989
The social worker leaned on the windowsill, running fingers through her limp blond hair and then across her forehead in an attempt to wipe away the beads of sweat. The small green yard below looked like a cool oasis in the midst of the dry desert heat, and for a brief moment she wished that she were one of the children running carelessly back and forth, their laughter faintly audible through the glass.
Blinking away the haze of reverie her gaze was drawn to the only two children sitting apart from the merriment, their backs to one of the two trees, clearly visible only from her vantage point and invisible to the rest of the children.
An interesting pair the two made, and a common one these past few months - the boy without a past and the girl who, one could only hope, did not remember hers. She sighed and pushed herself away from the window, fighting off the exhaustion that resulted from overwork.
The girl’s future should be much brighter from here on out, she thought with a faint smile, fingering the papers sitting atop her desk. The final signature had been obtained and she had become the legal ward of the state of New Mexico and, as such, able to be fostered out as quickly as possible. She was a beautiful little girl and quite bright; with any luck would soon have a family that would choose to adopt rather than let her go.
She spared a brief moment of worry that taking her away from the one person she had seemed to bond with would not be healthy at that stage but brushed it away. She was only six and would soon make new friends wherever she went; It would all work out.
These were the moments that made her job worth it and she was quite sure that the little girl would be ecstatic to have a new family.
October 27, 1989
The woman stared at the little girl sitting in front of her; trying to recall the certainty she had felt just three weeks before. Her fragile face was flushed with defiance, her aquamarine eyes hard with a determination that was shocking and quite frankly disturbing in one so young.
The little girl, the sweet beautiful little girl in front of her had screamed, fought, destroyed property, frightened other children, frightened parents, and successfully gotten herself removed from not one but two foster homes in the past two and a half weeks.
The only reason she would give was that he needed her and she needed him and that no matter what they could not keep them apart. And she believed her, she believed that this six-year-old girl would fight and win every battle to take her away and she had no doubt that he would do the same.
Somehow he had known and both times the parents, red-faced with frustration, had brought her back to their door, he had been waiting, sitting on the steps with a smile on his face. She sighed and leaned back in her chair; somehow she was going to have to find a family that would take them both.
He reached into the small hole in the trunk where they stashed the few little treasures they had collected over the past months, and pulled out a small pocket knife one of the older children had left behind when they went to their new family.
They had discussed it before she was taken the second time; they wanted a way to bond themselves so that everyone would know that they were really brother and sister, no matter what the nice lady said. The teacher that came every week had read them a story about the Indians and how they would swear to become brothers, their blood binding them forever. And with all the serious enthusiasm of childhood they had decided it was the perfect solution.
He drew the small blade over his hand first, wincing as the red line appeared, then handed it over to her and watched as she did the same.
She set the knife down between them and held her hand out, her eyes sparkling with suppressed joy.
He clasped it with his own and whispered with a smile, “Together forever.”
“Forever.” She agreed, watching in awe as their hands began to glow.
Spoilers: All of Roswell is up for grabs though it seriously differs from canon
Category: UC, AU, Ensemble Fic
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Pre-Polar, Max (and Maria) Friendly, no real pairings until the second sequel but placing in UC board because I think the whole series fits best here.
Summary: Alternate Universe in which Michael was the first to let in a human, long before they were old enough to realize the consequences.
Warning: This story will depict scenes of child abuse, not graphic.
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
A/N: This is a story I originally posted on Roswell Fanatics a long time ago but never finished and am now resurrecting as a Polar series. I’ve always loved Michael when portrayed as a big brother and wanted to explore that without changing the relationships of the original characters. I considered making Liz his sister as I've seen that done a few times and enjoyed it but that would make it a little creepy when I put them together romantically so instead I created an OC, hopefully I’ve avoided the dread Mary Sue.
Also I believe it is accepted show canon that Michael had several foster families before he went to Hank but I chose not to explore any of those and he's going to Hank at age 6 in my fic and not going anywhere else. I’m going with the theory that Michael’s last name came from whoever found him and that Hank’s last name is Whitmore which is the consensus I seemed to find on various boards and IMDB. (And my betas confirmed it!)
And once again to reiterate this is an ensemble fic and all characters friendly so there will be absolutely zero bashing of anyone, I think a fan of any character could read this, that was my goal anyways. I hope you all enjoy and you know I loooves the feedback

Betas: This story has actually had three fabulous betas, Keri Anne who is now answering the call of real life, and currently the amazingly talented Kathy and Ashita are both helping me with the series so all of them deserve massive thanks.

I walk the edge of shadows
I tread the brink of dreams
I linger in this otherworld
A repugnant soul weeping empty tears
I dare not face the sun
Blazing in the sky
For though I breathe this air
This home it is not mine
I tread the brink of dreams
I linger in this otherworld
A repugnant soul weeping empty tears
I dare not face the sun
Blazing in the sky
For though I breathe this air
This home it is not mine
Chapter One: A Beginning
July 6, 1989
The small boy peered at the empty room through his tousled brown hair, the faint echoes of screams still ringing in his ears. He had not meant to scare them; he just wanted to show them the trick he had learned. Pulling his knees to his chest, he rested his chin on them, furiously blinking back tears.
“I’ll never show anyone again,” he vowed, pushing the sadness down and burying it with anger.
“Why?” a voice asked, interrupting his descent into enforced solitude.
He raised his head in surprise to see a girl kneeling in front of him; a cloud of dark red curls surrounding her upturned face, her clear blue-green eyes filled with open curiosity. He did not answer her, just stared as puzzlement and anger warred for control, both hiding the pain he had not managed to erase.
“It was neat. What you did.”
That startled a reaction out of him and before he could stop himself he asked, “But, the others? They were...They didn’t like it.”
She smiled. “They’re silly,” she said, and then touched his hand, still smiling. “Will you show me? What you can do?”
He watched her for a moment and then reached out, cupping his hands together in the space between them and meeting her gaze with a tentative smile of his own as his hands began to glow, radiating a pure white light that filled the room.
Her face shone with delight as she returned his small smile with a big grin. His smile widened and the wall he had begun to build around himself started to crumble.
August 19, 1989
A group of them had backed her into a corner; their childish faces made ugly with cruelty. “Why do you keep hanging out with that freak?” the oldest girl asked, her hands reaching out to pinch painfully.
Their expressions were dark with malice as they loomed over her and she struck back with the only weapon an angry six-year-old had; “You’re the freaks!”
One of the boys shoved her to the floor, all five of them smiling as she yelped in pain.
A moment later they collapsed with a shocking suddenness to the ground in a pile at her feet, felled by the equally angry six-year-old standing with raised hands in the doorway. Her tear-stained face turned towards him, a smile lighting her eyes as he walked forward, and with a gentleness belying the rage on his face, pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room.
They hid themselves behind a tree in the orphanage’s small backyard, just sitting quietly for a few minutes - one watching the ladybug crawling across her palm, the other watching the clouds floating placidly in the sky.
The boy brought his gaze down to the girl as the small red insect took flight, hovering between their faces before disappearing into the blades of grass, and then he reached out and touched the finger shaped bruises on her arms, the dark marks disappearing in a trail of white light.
Her mouth formed a perfect circle of surprise before curving into a smile. “New trick?”
He smiled back, the expression grown more natural with practice. “New trick.”
October 3, 1989
The social worker leaned on the windowsill, running fingers through her limp blond hair and then across her forehead in an attempt to wipe away the beads of sweat. The small green yard below looked like a cool oasis in the midst of the dry desert heat, and for a brief moment she wished that she were one of the children running carelessly back and forth, their laughter faintly audible through the glass.
Blinking away the haze of reverie her gaze was drawn to the only two children sitting apart from the merriment, their backs to one of the two trees, clearly visible only from her vantage point and invisible to the rest of the children.
An interesting pair the two made, and a common one these past few months - the boy without a past and the girl who, one could only hope, did not remember hers. She sighed and pushed herself away from the window, fighting off the exhaustion that resulted from overwork.
The girl’s future should be much brighter from here on out, she thought with a faint smile, fingering the papers sitting atop her desk. The final signature had been obtained and she had become the legal ward of the state of New Mexico and, as such, able to be fostered out as quickly as possible. She was a beautiful little girl and quite bright; with any luck would soon have a family that would choose to adopt rather than let her go.
She spared a brief moment of worry that taking her away from the one person she had seemed to bond with would not be healthy at that stage but brushed it away. She was only six and would soon make new friends wherever she went; It would all work out.
These were the moments that made her job worth it and she was quite sure that the little girl would be ecstatic to have a new family.
October 27, 1989
The woman stared at the little girl sitting in front of her; trying to recall the certainty she had felt just three weeks before. Her fragile face was flushed with defiance, her aquamarine eyes hard with a determination that was shocking and quite frankly disturbing in one so young.
The little girl, the sweet beautiful little girl in front of her had screamed, fought, destroyed property, frightened other children, frightened parents, and successfully gotten herself removed from not one but two foster homes in the past two and a half weeks.
The only reason she would give was that he needed her and she needed him and that no matter what they could not keep them apart. And she believed her, she believed that this six-year-old girl would fight and win every battle to take her away and she had no doubt that he would do the same.
Somehow he had known and both times the parents, red-faced with frustration, had brought her back to their door, he had been waiting, sitting on the steps with a smile on his face. She sighed and leaned back in her chair; somehow she was going to have to find a family that would take them both.
~
The two of them grinned at each other; both knowing that that had been the last time the lady would try and take her away. They made their way back to their tree, waiting until the coast was clear and then hiding themselves in its branches. He reached into the small hole in the trunk where they stashed the few little treasures they had collected over the past months, and pulled out a small pocket knife one of the older children had left behind when they went to their new family.
They had discussed it before she was taken the second time; they wanted a way to bond themselves so that everyone would know that they were really brother and sister, no matter what the nice lady said. The teacher that came every week had read them a story about the Indians and how they would swear to become brothers, their blood binding them forever. And with all the serious enthusiasm of childhood they had decided it was the perfect solution.
He drew the small blade over his hand first, wincing as the red line appeared, then handed it over to her and watched as she did the same.
She set the knife down between them and held her hand out, her eyes sparkling with suppressed joy.
He clasped it with his own and whispered with a smile, “Together forever.”
“Forever.” She agreed, watching in awe as their hands began to glow.