Roswell Fanatics

Title: Second Chances
Pairing : UC/CC
Rating : MATURE, maybe
Category: AU
Disclaimer : I don't own anything related to Roswell or its characters. This is simply an exercise in imagining. I'm influenced by a lot of books, poetry, movies and music. I'll try to ensure everything is appropriately cited, if I forget, or mis-cite, please do let me know.
A/N : FtR is my main priority but I'll try to update this as frequently as I can. Perhaps, once every week/or more. This is a completely different style so feedback, compliments and rotten tomatoes are welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1

Deep in the night, high above the slumbering city they met.

They prayed.

They vowed vengeance.

Two sisters: one of earth and flame, the other of sky and blood.

They weren’t sisters by biology. Not sisters of the heart. Not sisters of the soul. No, they were sisters of hate and revenge. The bloodlust that bound them was deeper, stronger, ever lasting.

There would be no betrayal here, and no second chances.

They met deep in the night, high above the city to grieve the passing of a lover, a brother.

The King is dead. Long live the Queen.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of hell, two grey men met in the deepening shadows of the evening sky.

Grey men that weren’t really men but shells of men. Shells of what they could have been, but never became or could ever be. They lived and breathed as men, but unlike men they emitted no light neither dark nor pale.

They were instead the absence of light. They were the absence of shadow. They were the absence of being. They were beginning and end, cause and motive, purpose and decision.

They were the path of fate and destiny.

They were the force behind those who would walk the shadowy path of destiny.

Until one of them stirred. Underneath the shell, and inside the cadaver beat still the faintest of pulses. He felt the smallest infintesimal desire to become more…..He hid the blasphemous thought under empty cold eyes.

The game was about to begin. The stakes were higher. The contenders had changed

The King is dead. Long live the Queen.

He made the first move.

~~~~~~~~~~~

An urn, an orb, a ceremonial dagger. A swallow of blood, a pound of flesh, a lock of hair.

Ashes to bind it all.

They were ready.

The earthen urn sat on an altar of earth and rock high above the sewers they came from. It was waiting to be filled. The pale orb hovered above it. Devoid of light and energy it was useless and meaningless with the King’s passing. But it would serve this last function for the binding.

The two sisters, dark headed and gold, stood over altar, urn and orb.

“Are you ready?”

Nodding firmly, a declaration of intent, she extended her arm and shifted until both urn and orb were directly beneath it. The dagger gleamed in the dark before slashing across olive skin. The cut oozed a thin trickle of blood before the vein gushed out more. Blood pooled on the orb, until it gleamed wetly, and slithered into the urn.

Her face serene, the dark haired girl intoned, “With the passing of my blood and the sharing of my soul, I vow vengeance.”

She waited a beat before binding the wound with a bandana. There would be no healing tonight, no easing of pain.

She wiped the sticky blade on the grass and turned to her sister.

“It is time,” the other said calmly, her golden hair fluttering in an invisible wind.

Mimicking her sister’s stance she extended her left arm over the dull orb and waited for the first incision. She would have scraped her body down to a skeleton if it meant getting justice. A pound of flesh was nothing.

She would have given more, much, much more.

The incisions were clean, swift and clinical. The skin on her muscled forearm trembled then paled. It was curiously bloodless. If she looked closely she could see bone, the one she had broken and her brother had healed. It was fitting.

She gently stretched skin and flesh over the orb.

“With the giving of my flesh and the sharing of my life, I vow vengeance.”

The orb flared, drawing energy from blood and flesh. It turned into light. It was like a macabre drama.

Clasping arms, the sisters of flaming earth and bloody sky, chanted.

The two became one.

“With the passing of my blood and the sharing of my soul,
With the giving of my flesh and the sharing of life,
I vow vengeance.”

The sky reddened and overhead a whirlpool of thunder strained.

“I am of earth, I am of sky,
I am of fire, I am of rain,
I am of beginnings, I am of endings,”

Lightening lanced the sky.

“I am the broker of destiny, of choice,
I am of justice, of revenge,
Between the now and the forever,
Vengeance shall be mine.”

The vortex of sky, thunder and lightning churned. It erupted in a fluid stream of energy, pouring over and through the orb, clearing blood and flesh in its wake. Guided by the power of their sacrifices, and bound by the purity of their intent it filled the urn to the brim.

The small earthen pot held under the strain of the red storm. The energy hissed sibilantly, growing brighter and brighter. The orb whirled faster and faster.

The two warriors unclasped their hands and opened their fists. Strands of sable hair mixed with ashes swirled into the urn.

It exploded.

In the aftermath, all that remained were a lover, a sister, and an oath.

Holding hands they walked down the hill, through the sleeping city and deep into the caverns.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2


The sewers were dark, damp and infested with things that slithered into the gloom, scrabbled away from the waning phosphorescent light. But they were where the memories were. They had been home when he’d been around…but no more.

Now, they were just a place that was to be left behind.

There would be no looking back as the two girls wiped it clean of memories, desire, anguish, wrath and love. There had been so much love, so much rage. In the end that was all that remained: love and rage, earth and sky, lover and sister, rage and love.

Twins in opposition, parts of the same whole, flipside of the coin…they were clichés of choice.

“Where is he?” The blonde girl asked, trailing her fingers along the dank walls. Flickers of light trailed her fingers scorching the walls clean.

“Meeting.”

“What ya think that’s about?”

A quick flick of the wrist and bright lights came on.

“Roswell and the play-king.”

There was a moment of silence as both girls stood trapped in webs of their own thoughts, and fears.

The rules of the game had changed now. It was getting difficult to predict the next moves. News of the ritual would spread soon. They had a week tops, before the other players realised that the game had changed. The stakes were much higher this time round.

Winner takes all.

Winner gets to live.

Their thoughts echoed each other in the silence of their minds. Sometimes, being so close had its advantages. Sometimes, words just got in the way.

“You should pack up, we don’t have much time.”

Not responding the blonde stalked away to the other end of the cave. Her booted heels clicking on the hard surface like the ticking of a clock.

Click-Clock, Tick-Tock, Click-Clock, Tick-Tock.

Smoothing her blonde locks, she looked around the room her gaze landing on the spot where she and the pretender had fucked. Even then she had known something was wrong, something was off.

He hadn’t felt right.

It wasn’t what she had remembered.

But she’d ignored it. Pushed the thought to the back of her mind afraid that if she looked closely it would reveal a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

It was one thing to feel dissatisfied. To not feel connected with her mate. But it was altogether different to know it was because of her feelings for someone else.

She had feelings: strong, deep, and abiding feelings for the wrong person. The one person she could never have. The one person she couldn’t even imagine having.

It was forbidden.

But, oh, how she had wanted.

Against her will she had listened to her brother and his mate loving. The walls were thin and privacy wasn’t something they valued. But sometimes, when she was unguarded, their hoarse wails triggered a wave of desire so strong within her that she almost drowned.

She gulped down sweet swells of longing, laced with the bitter after-taste of regret and disgust.

If her brother ever found out…the thought didn’t bear thinking. She had done everything and anything to get away from it. She tried to resist the molasses like inexorable pull but nothing could quench the need living in the pit of her stomach.

The fuck was never hard enough. The pleasure was never deep enough. The desire was never desperate enough.

Nothing was ever enough.

And then one day, he’d found out. Found out her dirty shameful secret.

“Lonnie?”

Unreasonably startled by the soft voice, she growled, “Wear a fuckin’ bell.”

Looking away from the penetrating eyes, Lonnie cast one final look at her crib before answering the silent urging.

“Let’s make a move. Time’s wastin.”

She turned to look back, giving in to sentiment one last time. She had been mistress of this barren wasteland lying before her. But not any more like everything else that too had changed.

A savage green light erupted from her hand, glancing off walls, penetrating the thick underlying wealth of memory. The green whirlwind scoured every inch of her discarded empire until there was nothing left behind.

By the time the scourge had pulled back, filtering back into her veins, there was no evidence that once this had been enclave of the royals.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold dregs of coffee, swirling with yellow milk and clumps of sugar tasted like nothing, just like everything else on the planet. The grey man thought to himself.

To feel once, to live once – but it was a dream never to be fulfilled – unless, unless he played his cards right.

Flicking his gaze to his silently impenetrable companion, he realised that maybe this would be harder to pull off than he had anticipated.

But it couldn’t be. Not really. He wasn’t about to be dictated by a horny human teenager. The rejected, defunct King was dead. The only one of them he had ever feared. His mate was just a silly disposable human. No, he was still in control, if not ahead of the game.

After all, he still had the play-king and queen in his hands. Oh yes, this was just getting interesting. But first, it was time to get the lay of the land.

“So, when should I expect you?” He asked, masking his jubilation.

A lighter click and puff of smoke later, “I’ll let you know.”

“I need to make preparations. The others don’t know yet.”

“And that should be my concern because…”

For the umpteenth time he reminded himself that patience was a virtue. It wouldn’t do to tip his hand not before he knew where the main obstacle in his path stood.

“I need to inform them of the situation. They aren’t trained or prepared. Besides, we are working on a tight timeline, or need I remind you of that?”

Another cloud of smoke emerged then languidly dissipated. “The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll talk to her then.”

“Talk to her?” Edward Harding snorted. “Don’t you mean tell her? What does she know?”

Almost immediately he recognised his mistake. He had mistaken indolence for laziness and predatory patience for indifference.

The cigar went out with a hiss in his coffee copy. Red ash gleaming wickedly before it dissolved into the coffee.

“Be very careful, Edward,” came the softly biting response. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that the opening gambit had been made.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“You’re the one with the directions.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, if you’ve screwed up the directions then we are most definitely not…Jesus is that map upside down!”

Tires squealed and smoked as brakes were hastily applied.

“Let me see that!”

“Hey!”

“Stop freaking out and let me look at the goddamn map.”

“Freaking out? Freaking out? We are in the middle of the ghetto at night, with no idea where we are going and you’re telling me to stop freaking out?”

“Stop, shouting! Sorry, I’m on edge.”

“Yeah, well so am I!”

“Look, we’re going the right way. The apartment is two blocks ahead.”

“Oh, ok. Sorry. I’m just…”

“I know.”

“She’s gonna be ok, right?”

“I…yeah.”

The green pathfinder grimly turned into a brightly lit apartment complex called “The Elysian Fields.”

“Here we are 10th floor, apartment number 1010.”

“I’m nervous…”

“Don’t be. It’ll be fine. Ready?”

A hand rose and tapped on the door gently…rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-a-tat.

“Coming,” a breathless voice called out and the door flung open. The lamp light spilled out into the hallway, casting dark shadows behind them. But it was the girl, hallowed by the light curving around her that held their attention.

Her waist length hair gleamed ebony-flame. Brown doe-eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Simultaneously both visitors stepped forward and flung their arms around her.

“Lizzie!”

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

Part 3


2 AM.

The time when all normal people were asleep and dreaming save one, Alexander Charles Whitman.

His eyes were wide-open and glued to the ceiling. It was a classic sign that something was amiss. Conservatively speaking, Alex was troubled.

Bewilderment, disbelief and denial with their built-in comfort had given way to concern, worry, and a hysterical fear. There was no comfort at all.

He worried about the girl sleeping next to him. Lizzie. His best-friend with the broken heart and drying tear tracks.

He was worried about the entire situation. And, last but not least, he was worried about these people that she called family.

Family!

Now, there was a word for this lot. Alex was her family. Maria was her family. The Whitmans and Ms. Deluca were her family. After her father had been killed in the Crashdown shooting – Maria and he had become her stalwart supporters. But it wasn’t until her mother had died in a car accident in New York that their families had stepped up to the plate.

From having no parents and no family – Liz Parker had gone to having two sets of parents and ferociously dedicated siblings.

Now these people...No, not people...These aliens had also become a part of her family.

And that worried him.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Liz and Maria, Alex slipped out of the room and into the den. Scrubbing a hand over his tired sleep deprived eyes he sank into the nearest chair. The entire night had been one shock after the other. Hell, it wasn’t even shocking. It was incredible. It was like something out of a sci-fi novel, a fairytale, a gruesome Stephen King novel.

But little green people and space travel aside, the shocker of the night had been how long and how well Liz could keep a secret.

Liz, the girl who had never held anything back, the girl who couldn’t lie, conceal or deceive had kept a secret of such gargantuan proportions that it made their lives seems Lilliputian in comparison. Her secret would have resulted in her death, but she had kept it out of love, for love, in love.

You had to admire that single-mindedness once you ceased to be afraid of what it meant. But Alex was very afraid.

A match flared in the dark, pulling him out of his thoughts. In the pitch dark, he saw it light a cigarette and blow out.

“Who’s there?”

The tip burnt red, before a husky voice asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Lonnie,” breath whooshed out of him.

He wanted to escape, hide from those familiar but different eyes. Isabel Evans’ eyes but not her eyes. And to think he’d only been worried about aliens let alone alien doppelgangers.

“Scared?” She rasped again.

Taken aback by the ease with which she pierced his thoughts, he shrank back into the armchair.

“Should I be?”

Silence. The red eye glowed, faded then glowed again.

“Depends…”

So this is what they mean when your life flashes before you eyes, Alex thought whimsically. Abruptly, his intellect rallied. Don’t be stupid she won’t hurt you. Liz will be upset.

“Liz will be upset,” he burst out, “If you hurt me, I mean.”

Lonnie laughed softly. It was a curiously unpleasant sensation. Like a long nail barely scraping down his spine. He twitched involuntarily.

She didn’t quite know what to make of these two. Liz had mentioned them often enough but she’d never quite understood the utility of humans. Not until Zan had made his choice.

Squelching the thought, Lonnie strolled towards a rapidly paling Alex Whitman. Abandoning her cat and mouse game she spoke, graciously for her, “What do you want to know?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Edward Harding walked into his cold silent shell of a home. Much like the husk of a man he was.

It was an ideal match of form and purpose made in hell.

He hung his wet anorak on the coat stand, and ambled into the den. Ed Harding, a travelling salesman, the ideal father of his lonely waif like mother-less daughter. Tess Harding, who at present, was hiding in her bedroom.

Ignoring her, Ed set out the contents of his briefcase on the coffee table.

He arranged and re-arranged the photographs and name-tags until all the players were in place.

Isabelle and Michael were well-convinced of their alien-ness. It would only take a small nudge to antagonise them. Nothing Cal or the new teen queen did would change that. The New York lot had fully collaborated, nothing there posed a threat.

A small smile curved his thin lips when he thought about Max. Max, the all too human, fallible and weak king, would respond to the precarious position the queen found herself in. He was just chivalrous and foolish enough to want to help her. And in order to charge to her rescue he would need Tess’ help.

Isabelle and Michael wouldn’t help him. If anything they would alienate him even further. No one would support him except for Tess. And Tess would do exactly as daddy dearest wanted.

Oh yes, after all this time, the snivelling blonde brat would give the performance of a lifetime…with a little encouragement.

He laughed softly, a low chilling sound. Tess had stubbornly resisted her strings. But in the end she would fall in line like the rest of them...once he gave her a little talking to.

Sweet Tess would be his ticket home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tess huddled under her bed covers. Her body folded in on itself in fear. He was back. Nacedo was back and with him her scarce moments of freedom ended.

A vision of the future bloomed before her eyes, like a gaping wound. She saw herself fading, like a pale wraith, into oblivion. Bound to a man who didn’t love her, dominated by others who wanted her powers, and controlled by still others for whom she was nothing but a tool.

A means to an end.

The road to deliverance.

Exhaling on a gasp, she forced her eyes open. For a moment, it had all seemed so real. She had been caught in a nightmare not of her making. It hadn’t happened yet, but soon.

Tears filmed in her eyes before retreating. She wouldn’t give in to tears. They were a coward’s tool, a sign of weakness and failure.

Cowardice and failure had been beaten out of her. Visions of a glorious past etched into her skin seeped with the bloody pain of the present. She wasn’t a puppet yet, and maybe never.

The trick was to gain allies away from Nacedo’s all-knowing gaze. Tess eased her chest until breathing was barely a ripple in her body and focused inward. It was time to map out a strategy.

In a blinding moment of clarity Tess realised that she was not just a handicap, forever a victim of abusive power-hungry men’s machinations but a centrepiece of the game. But she wasn’t the only one. There was another, she reflected drowsily.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“…it’s with Liz?” Alex blanched.

“Yeah,” Lonnie stubbed out her fifteenth cigarette of the night. She really needed to quit.

“But, she’s just a human!” he exclaimed fitfully, ignoring Lonnie’s narrowed eyes. “I mean, can’t she give it back? Why can’t you keep it or your protector? Who if you ask me hasn’t done a whole lot of protecting!”

“She’s not just a human, ok Einstein! She’s the queen. You don’t get ta be queen cause you fucked the king, it’s bigger then that. You gotta want it. Nobody can give it to you, it just happens. It’s not something that we can control.”

“But Zan,”

“Zan is dead! It’s ova for him! He’s gone. Ain’t neva coming back. She’s walkin around with a fuckin bulls-eye on her face so don’t get all nancy hysterical on me and keep it togetha!”

Nearly spitting with rage, Lonnie towered over him. Explanations had never been her strong point and with Liz’s arrival she’d given them up all together. But this was important. Important enough for her to try and explain something she didn’t understand herself to her sister’s friend. Choking with fury and agonising grief she stomped away to the windows.

She looked down at the sleeping city, enraged by its blameless sleep and ignorance. She wanted to raise her arms and blast everything into oblivion. Burn the stars out of the sky and rain fire on every living thing. Leaning a hand against the window pane she fought against the tremors of energy convulsing to be free.

“Liz will need you tomorrow at the funeral. So keep it togetha. She’s gonna need the both of ya.”

Hesitating a moment, she turned and swept her gaze through the room.

“We’ll know more. Tomorrow.” And with that she left.

Silence thundered in her wake. The room seemed to waver before settling back in its place and looked normal.

Alex peeled himself from the armchair and walked towards the window. There it was. A firm hand print embedded in the glass pane. It was a flickering green ominous portent.

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

Part 4


Tomorrow was finally here.

Tomorrow was today.

And today was not a good day. Overcast. Mournful. Sullen.

They all stood together, except one, hunched underneath the grey sky. Silent in the face of Liz’s overwhelming and overflowing grief. The empty coffin lowered into the ground, as the priest stammered words of condolence.

What was there to be said? What could be said?

The silence swallowed his words whole, rendering him meaningless and muffled. His words would find no purchase here. Not with Liz’s dry-eyed stony-faced searing holes into the ground. She looked unusually fragile that morning like something cast in porcelain or ivory. Her brown hair dulled under the mood of the day and cinched into a tight ponytail. The black dress shrouded her like a sack, and her thin arms and legs emerged from it like ashen twigs.

She had been silent the entire morning. Both Alex and Maria had planted themselves at her side, like sentinels itching to ward off any interruptions in her internal communion. But neither Lonnie nor Cal showed any sign of disturbing her. The only flicker of life in her had been when Cal had returned from his meeting that very morning.

He entered the apartment silently, already dressed in black, and calmly draped Zan’s old jacket over her shoulders. Liz’s mouth had twitched for a moment, a smile or a word fighting to the surface, but then smoothed out. Since then, now two hours later, she was…

“Thank you, Father Nolan.”

Without looking away from the ground, she spoke softly, her voice carrying through the still air, “I’d like a moment alone, please.”

“But…” Maria started to speak but then stopped herself short. This was all so very confusing. She had no idea what was going on. But maybe she didn’t need to know. Well, not just yet at any rate. What she needed to do was support Liz. And if that meant keeping quiet and giving her room to say her final farewells then that’s what she’d do.

“Ok, chica. We’ll wait.”

Tugging on Alex’s arm, she walked away from the grave.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what the hell is going on?” Maria hissed as soon as she was out of earshot.

From this distance, Liz looked even smaller than before, her outline blurred and indistinct.

“No, really I need to know what is going on! And then, Liz, Alex and I are going to Roswell. I don’t know what’s going on, but I already know that its bad news and that we need to be far away from here so…spill.”

Lonnie and Cal ignored her. Their eyes trained on Liz’s frail figure. Maria growled in her throat, before nudging Alex. Alex took his cue from Maria and gingerly tapped Lonnie’s arm before stepping out of…blasting range.

“Umm, last night…you did say…umm you’d explain today. Remember?”

Unspoken communication passed between Cal and Lonnie but before she could reply, Cal said,

“She’s ready. We can talk at home.” Turning on his heel the bald protector walked out of the cemetery.

Lonnie shrugged at the dismissal before focusing on Alex and Maria.

“You heard the man. Just remember to keep it togetha. This ain’t gonna be pretty. Before we talk you gotta decide whether you’re in or out. There ain’t no backin out later. In or out?”

“Are you threatening us?” Maria shrieked, her blue-green eyes widening with a combination of fear and anger.

“We can’t just decide without knowing anything. You can’t just expect us to choose blindly,” Alex replied with a hint of calmness. His heart thudded against his chest, fighting to leap out.

“I expect ya to have some balls!” Lonnie spat, her blonde hair flaring.

“That’s bull-shit. You want to scare us. It isn’t going to happen. But we still need to know what is going on!” Alex shot back, holding his ground.

Maria stared at the two of them in surprise and dismay. Lonnie sounded like a wacko but Alex…she’d never heard Alex talk like that before.

“I don’t need to scare no pansy-ass wimp! It’s a simple decision, in or out. Not rocket science. All you need ta know is Liz’s involved, so figure it out. Time’s running out!”

“Look…”

“Liz? Liz is in danger? Oh my god, what’s happening to Liz? Is she ok? What’s going on? Of course we’re going to help Liz. She’s my best-friend. Our family.”

“Maria…” Alex tried to interject but she steam rolled over him.

“Alex its Liz,” she pleaded. “Do you honestly think it matters what the story is? Isn’t it enough that it’s our Liz and she’s in danger? She could get hurt. Anything could happen to her. Do you really want to leave her running around with these…Roswell look-alikes when her husband just died! I mean, think about it!”

“Assasinated.”

“I’m sorry,” Maria and Alex exclaimed simultaneously.

“Zan was killed. Someone offed him.”

“Oh my god! Where’s my cedar oil?” Maria wheezed scrambling through her bag.

“Why didn’t you tell me yeserday?” Alex ground out.

“Cause it wasn’t today. And what did you think I meant when I said Liz’s got a fuckin bulls-eye in the middle of her face.”

Shattered by her revelations, Alex stared open-mouthed. This was the stuff of horror movies, science fiction shows. Since when did his best-friend’s life resemble a tv series?

But Lonnie was still speaking.

“None of that matters. This is the story – so take notes. Zan was murdered. Someone widowed Liz. Broke her bond. Left her unprotected, vulnerable,” Lonnie bit out her diction and vocabulary improving with every word.

“Does that help you make your decision?”

Mutely, Alex and Maria nodded.

This was just the beginning of the unveiling. Worried for their friend’s safety and concerned about the magnitude of the revelations facing them, the two clasped hands and walked to the car park.

References: A.S. Byatt “Possession,” “Wizard of Oz,” and Bob Dylan.


Part 5


Tess quietly slipped on her backpack, and made her way to the front door.

The key was to be very, very quiet.

Wildly, crazily quiet.

Ten feet, seven feet, five feet, four feet, three feet…hand on the doorknob.

Lean right shoulder into door, press left hand underneath knob, turn with right hand…almost...

“Going somewhere, honey?”

B.U.S.T.E.D

Five seconds: compose features, blank, serene blue eyes, even breathing. Turn.

“Morning, Nacedo.”

“Daddy.”

Silence.

The floorboard creaked as he stepped off the bottom stair.

She spoke. “Morning, daddy.”

“Going to school?”

“Yes, I have a quiz so I thought I’d go early, to prepare, you know. Quiz.”

Note to self: Stop Babbling.

“You are so conscientious, my precious.” He smiled with good humour.

She didn’t reply, just edged towards the door.

“But surely you can spend five minutes with your dear old dad. After all, I’ve been away for so long. We should catch up.”

“I,”

“Come, let’s have breakfast.”

The door never seemed further. Escape was a doomed exercise. Tess shrugged off her backpack and shuffled into the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The road to Roswell was long and dreary just like the life stretched out before her.

The pale morning fog of New York retreated in the car’s mirrors. It didn’t call to her the way she’d expected it to. She felt light, almost airy.

Perhaps that’s what happened when you divorced life. The two of you separated amicably. Still friends, still together, but no longer together. You walked side by side, but alone, distinct and empty-handed. Life carried all your baggage and your emotions. While you were free.

Free.

But what was freedom?

Abruptly a quote flashed in her head, from a book Zan had once read.

“Freedom is movement within that which space confines. Whatta ya think o’ that, sugar?”

What did she think of that, indeed?

“A kingdom for your thoughts,” Kal broke in.

Shifting in the front seat, she turned to look at him.

Her Protector.

It would take some getting used to.

In the beginning she’d needed protection from him. But that seemed like eons ago. Those were comfortable times when friends and enemies were recognisable, clearly distinguished from each other. But the times, they were a changin’, wasn’t that what sombody important once said?

Yes, times were definitely changing.

“I already have that.”

He smirked. It was a comforting sight. It meant that some things were still the same.

“A King, then?”

And other things weren’t.

She chose to misunderstand him.

“It’s the 21st century, Glinda. You’ve just set back the women’s movement another twenty years.”

“Every queen needs a king.”

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I have a king.”

Clear grey eyes peered at her from over dark oval frames.

Very Hollywood. Very artificial. Deadly.

“Your tenses will get you into trouble one of these days, slugger.”

She turned away from him. The conversation was over. But this was Kal, and with Kal nothing was ever over. It simply retreated to emerge some other day, at some other point in time. Things changed and evolved with Kal, everything needed to be talked through, discussed, planned, contingencies outlined and on and on and on it went, ad infinitum.

That was who Kal was.

That was what Kal did.

And it wasn’t over.

“Amaranthea…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tess,”

Blonde ringlets quivered imperceptibly, but she replied steadily, “Yes…daddy?”

“How is school?”

Swallow oatmeal.

“Fine.”

Add sugar.

“You are settling in?”

Stir in sugar.

“Yes, thank you.”

Open mouth, insert spoon.

“And how are all your little friends?”

Gag.

Choke.

Swallow hastily.

All under a second.

Remain calm.

“Fine. They are all fine.”

“Did you have any trouble with them?” he asked gently, a concerned father interested in his daughter’s well-being.

“No, they’ve all accepted me. Isabelle and Michael were ok.”

“And Max?”

Blow on cooling oatmeal. Gain time.

Open mouth. Insert spoon. Swallow.

“Tess?”

“He’s nice,” she faltered.

Luckily he ignored it. Pushing aside the muddy coffee, he asked, “You know I went to New York?”

She nodded. He didn’t expect a response.

“I met the other protector there.”

Nod.

“Our friends from New York will be coming to Roswell. Tomorrow.”

Freeze mid-breath.

“I have some arrangements to make before then, so I would like you to inform your friends that I expect to see them at dinner tonight. 7pm.”

Pale eyes, pierced her soul. She felt like a fly pinned to a wall. Fluttering helplessly but it was no use.

Her white shirt grew wet and red across her chest, her heart. Pain soaked through skin and bone. Instinctively her hands cupped her heart, where the wound should have been.

But it wasn’t there.

There was no wound, only the idea of a wound.

Without looking down, she knew that strips of skin were being flayed. The tissue covering her heart was being sliced away with a thin razor and healed.

Sliced. Healed. Sliced. Healed.

Exposed nerve endings shrieked.

The joys of psychic wounds: seeping internally, perfection externally.

“You will make sure they come on time.”

Mutely, she nodded.

“I’ll explain the situation then. You understand how important this is for me, darling?”

“Yes,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

The pain disappeared.

“You might want to change that shirt before you go. Have a good day at school, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“That. My name is Liz Parker.”

“Amaranthea,”

“NO! Liz.”

Sighing, Kal pushed his glasses up his nose. It was time to back off. He would push again, later.

But he needed to get the last word in.

“You are who you are. You know it and I know it. There will be a new king. Maybe not the king but one, nonetheless.”

“And, Dorothy,”

“Yes, Glinda,”

They both shared a wry look before speaking together, “we sure ain’t in Kansas, any more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

So, thank you everyone for the great feedback and for giving this story a chance. Let me just take a moment to thank y'all and then we can get right to it:

alienmom: Thank you for the PM(s) and for boosting morale, it made my day! I prefer to think of Liz as 'dark-humored' - you'll have to tell me how I'm doing on that front!

I am a dreamer: So glad you're having a good time! To tell you the truth, your summaries help me keep track of plotlines as well.

Mama Dee 52: Glad to know you enjoyed the Bob Dylan touch! Thank you for all the encouragement and the *snap* "in!"

Tasyfa: So, how dorky does it make me sound when I tell you that you're writing and stories are fairly fabulous, and I'm a big fan! The fact that you're enjoying this story is doing some seriously good things for my ego.

Yonkers Me: Hey, so good to see you again. Tell you what, if you tell me what your ideas are - then I can figure out how on-track I am. I promise to dedicate a chapter to you...



Part 6

He woke up fatigued.

More tired than when he went to bed.

Was that normal?

The three thoughts crossed his mind in succession, just as he stretched over to switch off the alarm clock that hadn’t rung yet.

Yeah, like that was another surprise.

Story of his life: early everywhere, arriving for nothing.

It was too early for this kind of depression. Was it normal for a seventeen year old to feel this level of ennui? Exhausted from life, from living?

But then again, was he even normal, or seventeen for that matter?

That settled it, no more alternative rock or depressing mood music from him. No sir, from today onwards he was going to be…well, he didn’t know what, but something else. And the first thing on the agenda was to take a shower. That would go a long way in making him feel human.

What a joke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The five weary travellers reached Roswell a whole day ahead of schedule. So, it was no surprise that there were no welcome wagons circling to receive them. It was just as well. They were in no mood to be welcomed or greeted or civil.

Except for Kal.

But then, Kal was always civil. And in this instance, civil was overlaid by smugness. No wait, Kal was always smug, in which case he appeared more smug than usual.

“Here we are children!”

Maria, Liz, Alex and Lonnie stared at the rather large house in front of them.

Lonnie’s “Where the fuck is here?” broke the stunned silence.

Gleefully Kal replied, “This once was the Waverly Place, but has now been purchased by yours truly. We will be staying here for a while.”

“Here?” Maria squeaked. “You bought this place? It’s like crazy expensive. I mean, with like six bedrooms, a pool and…I mean it even has its own quarry.”

“It’s supposed to be really nice from the inside,” Alex murmured staring at the plush residence in front of them. This was the kind of house he avoided trick-treating, the kind of house he would be afraid to use the front door.

Liz simply stared at the second floor balcony. She liked being high…well that too, but in this instance, high up.

Close to the sky where she could spread her wings.

Close to the stars, which she could reach out and touch.

Close to Zan.

“Up the stairs, second door to the right,” Kal murmured to her, before turning to unload the car.

Four hours later, when they had settled in, Liz in her bedroom on the second floor, Kal in the basement and Lonnie on the ground floor, they discussed their plans.

“We’re ahead of schedule.” It was a statement from Liz.

“Yes, so you two,” Kal pointed to Alex and Maria, “need to be careful. Don’t mention Liz’s arrival to anyone. For all you know, you went to New York met her. She looked sad but that’s to be expected. You tried to convince her to come to Roswell with you, but she needed to get stuff done so she’ll be arriving tomorrow.”

“Any questions?”

“Why?” That was Maria, green eyes brightened by curiosity.

“Because...”

“I need to get settled in before meeting the others,” Liz interrupted softly.

“Ok,” Alex agreed, not giving Maria a chance to argue. “We’ll just get going then. C’mon Ria.”

Shading her eyes against the bright sun, Liz looked around. So, this was Roswell. It had been so long that she barely remembered it. Somehow she never imagined destiny would be so dusty or hot.

“I’ll call you guys tonight, and let you know plans for tomorrow. It’ll probably be here.”

A pause.

“Thanks for coming for me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

So far the whole normalcy plan was turning out better than he’d hoped.

Bored to tears in school, like any average teenager, he desperately wondered what brain spasm had convinced him to take Sociology.

It sucked.

IT sucked.

It SUCKED.

IT SUCKED.

Great! Now he was talking to himself. But maybe that wasn’t so bad, because the bell rang and he’d missed an entire hour of Mrs. Granger’s nasal twang whinging about socialisation and associational life.

He wasn't social.

Infact, he never socialised, so that didn’t apply to him.

And any associations that he had were not of his choice. Someone up there hated him so he was stuck with pre-chosen shrink-wrapped associates….one of whom was headed his way. Ducking into the boys loo he decided that since the day was flushed to hell, he might as well ditch school and get some alone time.

Because the last time he checked, they didn’t teach how to reclaim thrones in government class.

Squeezing out through the bathroom window, he headed towards the jeep. It took him all of two seconds to decide where to go…where his unsociable pre-determined associates didn’t catch up with him.

Throwing the jeep in reverse he shot towards the rock quarry behind the Waverly Place. He parked his off the highway and behind some boulders where it couldn’t be seen, and jogged the remaining half mile to his thinking place.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was blazingly hot, Liz decided. Peeling off her t-shirt and jeans she dressed in a bikini and linen overalls. Maybe she would take a swim, or see the quarry.

She padded down stairs. A smile flitted across her face as she heard Incubus wailing in Lonnie’s room. It was nice to have her sister-in-law with her.

They would need to stand together when the time came.

“Going somewhere, Dorothy?”

Ignoring Kal’s sudden appearance, she kept walking to the back door, “Swimming.”

“The pool will be fixed tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Liz nodded. “I’ll just go out back then.”

She jabbed some random pins in her hair and decided to brave the heat outside. She noticed the change in scenery first, as she headed towards the boundary of her new house. There was a shady cluster of Eucalyptus trees and a circle of rocks and a faint bubbling sound. Ignoring the oddity for the moment, Liz scrambled through the trees quietly intent on finding the source of the sound. She stopped abruptly when she saw them.

The green tinted wading pond in the middle of the rock hollow caught her eye first. It looked so cool and sheltered. Her body quivered in delight at the thought of diving in, when she caught a flash of colour in the corner of her eye.

He was sitting sideways, wedged between a smooth boulder and a tree, with his back to her oblivious to her presence. But she knew.

She knew him.

Her hands itched to stroke the familiar shape of the head. She curled her fists to stop her fingers from toying with the whorl of hair at the back of his neck. Liz clenched her eyes shut, and gritted her teeth against the automatic desire that pooled in her belly. Her breasts tightened at the thought of that ravenous mouth on her, his stubble scraping her sensitive skin, and the cool metallic tongue ring laving at her navel.

Frissons of desire spread through her body until she almost keened at the sensation of his teeth sinking into her thigh, his fingers stroking, tugging, twisting, pinching, soothing...

NO!

It was too early.

Too much too soon.

She wasn’t prepared for this immediate insidious jolt of frenzied lust. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t her lover. He would never be her lover. But her body…her treacherous body didn’t understand the difference. It wouldn’t listen to reason.

It wasn’t until she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth that Liz breathed again. She would do this. She knew it would be this difficult, and she accepted that. But he was not Zan. And he never would be.

Willing body or not, her heart understood the clear distinction and that was all that mattered.

Since he was here, she might as well gauge him Liz thought to herself and kicked a pebble into the pool, breaking the still afternoon.

He twisted around with surprising speed and looked up at the girl staring at him.

And stared back at her and then stared some more.

Waist length strands of hair were escaping from the loose bun on top of her head. Her eyes were a deep brown and rimmed with kohl, making them darker more mysterious. His attention was captured by the jewel glinting in her nose, and the wide curve of her sumptuous mouth, her pouting lower lip. The baggy linen overalls were sliding off her smooth shoulders, and slender tattooed arms. Before he could look further, she said,

“Take a picture it’ll last longer.”

He flushed, not only at being caught staring but at the sexy hoarseness of her voice.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“No, I mean…no, sorry,” he blinked rapidly. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

Liz arched a shapely eyebrow. “You’re trespassing.”

“No,” he replied a little more steadily. He’d seen pretty girls before, no need to act like an idiot.

“No?”

“No, this is public property.”

“My house, my land, my property. So, it’s private.”

Instead of replying he simply sat down and stared at his feet.

“I’ve been coming here a while. No one said anything before” he threw her a glance and smiled, “anyway, we’re hospitable in Roswell. Neighbourly. Friendly, even.”

Liz smirked. Maybe he wasn’t a total loss. She pulled her arms out of the overalls, and started to slide them down her body.

“What are you doing?”

“Undressing.”

“You can’t…”

Annoyed by his presence, she replied sharply, “I can strip naked if I want to. This is my property if you’re feeling shy go somewhere else. Or don’t look.”

He swallowed at the sight of all that caramel skin. Her bikini, well, he’d seen underwear the covered more. But he couldn’t admire any of it, because he was still stuck on the belly-button ring she sported. It was so outlandishly erotic that he almost moaned out loud.

Ignoring his appraising gaze Liz dove into the clear water and shuddered with joy. It made her feel so good. Rejuvenated. Slicking back her hair, she floated on her back.

“You come here often?” She asked idly.

“No, sometimes.”

“Why here?”

He sighed. Now that she was a little more covered he could relax. “It’s quiet. No one ever comes here.”

“It helps me think.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Think about what?”

“I…”

“It’s not like you know me slick. So, what’s the harm? Think of me as your priest.”

He snorted. “If my priest wore a bikini and had a tummy ring, I’d be going to church pretty regularly. Except,” he laughed at the image, “our priest is a fifty year old man named Tim Mathews – so maybe not!”

Liz laughed with him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. They could be friends.

Maybe.

“So, why are you hiding here, today?”

“I’m avoiding my life. My responsibilities.”

“Yeah?” She asked arching her head back, so her hair trailed behind her like a cloak.

“Yeah. My siblings and I want different things from my life. They want me to do this thing that’ll help us out, you know.”

“It’s your life you should do what you want.”

“It’s not that simple. See, they, well, I’m responsible for them so I have to think about what’s good for them. And do stuff…that I don’t…might not wanna do.”

“Why is it your responsibility?”

“It’s the way it is,” he groused, “It’s always been that way.”

Liz didn’t reply. She sank down to the bottom of the pool where everything was soft and blunted. It was a different perspective. Pushing off the sandy bottom, she cleaved through the surface and caught the rest of his sentence.

“But sometimes…just once I want to do what I want to do. No thinking. No interruptions.”

“Then you should do it,” she replied lazily.

“I can’t…”

“You can do anything you want to do,” she looked up into his familiar but different eyes and couldn’t help soften her tone, “you just have to be willing to pay the price, Slick.”

A shadow passed his face, and for a second she felt recognition resonate within her, but the shadow moved and the moment passed.

He rose to his feet, and looked at the serene girl lazing in the water. If he had been free, if he didn’t have responsibilities or obligations, he would have liked to talk to her. Make friends with her, maybe ask her out.

But he wasn’t and never would be…free.

So, he dusted his jeans and leaned over the pond, to get one final look, “Thanks for listening and letting me stay.”

She nodded and he turned and walked a few steps, before looking back.

“My name’s Max and welcome to Roswell.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 7

Tess hurried down the hallways of Roswell High.

Time was a luxury she didn’t have anymore. Nascedo was back and with him…well it was time to move.

Avoiding eye contact, she hurried along. Unwilling to stop, she was desperate to reach her destination. Relief uncurled like a tendril of smoke in her stomach. There it was. Just a few more steps, but she had to be carefully. Darting her head up, she looked around…

DRAT!

Max was rushing down the corridors in her direction. Any moment now, he’d catch sight of her. It was too soon, she wasn’t ready. Steadying her nerves, she reached for the door and jerked it open, hoping against hope, that her move would go unnoticed, when a hand yanked her in.

Dark. Pitch. Black. Airless. Welcome to the Eraser Room.

It smelled of chalk dust, sweat and something a little more basic, that she didn’t care to name. Ewww, would suffice, Tess wrinkled her nose.

“You’re late,” he grumbled.

Covering his hand where it still gripped her arm, she whispered, “Sorry.”

“What’s the matter?” He asked not ungently.

“I,” she started only to reassess. They were in the Eraser Room, it was still morning, maybe the day would get better.

She peeked at him through her thick lashes and since he didn’t move, kissed him.

It was slow and comforting. The barest brush of mouth on mouth. A silent exchange of breath. His mouth felt firm and unsmiling under hers. Like a cat, she licked his lower lip once, then twice. He relented. The unfamiliar terseness vanished and his lips curved generously.

“Unprincipled,” kiss, “deceptive,” kiss, “manipulative,” kiss, “cheat,” he spoke in her mouth.

“Absolutely,” she purred. “You make me crazy, Kyle.”

“Do I?” He stroked his capable hands down her arms. Careful to avoid her back and her breasts.

If he touched her now, it would be over.

He hated being responsible.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she continued nibbling his earlobe.

He pulled away from her. Pushed her to an arms length distance, “Tess,”

“What?”

“Tess?”

“You’re no fun,” she pouted. Then became serious. “He’s back.”

********************

“He’s back.”

“How do you know?” Isabelle asked debating the merits of eating cheesy Doritos or extra spicy Cheetos.

“I know,” he scowled, “Do you ever stop eating?” taking in the arm load of candy, chocolate, cookies, and low-fat fruit juice.

“Do you ever stop bitching?” She replied equably,

“You’ll get fat.”

Isabelle ignored him. After spending years with Michael she had gotten used to his unpleasantness, his anger, his unhappiness. If anyone told her she didn’t ignore it but that it affected her in different ways, she would have been shocked.

Food wasn’t a problem. Please. She liked to eat. She had a nice body. It would stay that way. What did it matter what she ate, or if she ate a lot.

But she didn’t, not as the norm. She only ate in front of Michael and Max.

Cause and effect, in an unending cycle.

Rolling her eyes at his muttered imprecations she paid the clerk, smiled charmingly and swayed out.

Unlocking the car door, she sat inside and opened the other one for Michael.

“Borrowed your mom’s car?” He ripped open the cheesy Doritos with one hand, catching the tobasco packet with the other.

“Mmm,” she mumbled through a mouthful of ho-hos.

“You see him?”

“Yeah.”

Munch. Munch.

“Spying again?”

“It gets the job done.”

Swallow. Swallow.

“Tess is playing rabbit.”

“Better than snake,” Isabelle quipped, cleansing the palate with some seriously good butter-pecan-fudge-tobasco cookies.

“I’m serious,” he replied reaching into his pocket.

“Don’t smoke in Mom’s car.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“And don’t swear either. They are both disgusting and filthy habits.”

“Damn. Hell. Fuck. Shit. Asshole. Whore. Cocksucker…oomph,” Michael grabbed his stomach as a shockwave of pain swept through his solar plexus.

“It’s my car Michael. Don’t swear in it and don’t smoke.” She cracked her knuckles. “Next time you could be spitting out teeth.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groused. “Like Max doesn’t have any bad habits.”

“No,” she sighed, “He’s perfect,” and tore into the gummy bears violently.

Silence resumed, interrupted by the odd rustle of paper and the clicking of a lighter.

“What do you think he wants?” She asked at length.

“My gut says it has something to do with the New York lot and the other protector.”

She didn’t doubt the accuracy of his gut. It was what made him so good at being Second guesses that were right so often as to verge on precognition. But he didn’t like that…hokum.

So, gut it was and Michael’s gut feeling translated into trouble for them all.

“Does Max know?”

“No.”

That too was the norm. Max, being Max, would take the path of least resistance and trouble. He would do as he was told as he always had because he was indifferent.

Max didn’t care.

Isabelle wished desperately for a hot dog.

“What do you think it means?” That was Michael, needing Isabelle to translate his gut.

“It means,” she replied looking into the blinding sun, “things are about to change.”

Shaking off the pall, she started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. “Are you going to grace us with your presence at school today?”

He snorted. “You’re one to talk. Haven’t you already missed half of your first class – how to eat my family out of house and home!”

“I have a slip from my mother,” she grinned, pulling into Max’s spot.

He was missing.

A small frown marred the perfection of her face.

“Isabelle,”

“Yes,” she looked up from locking the car door.

“Nothing.”

She nodded in understanding.

It was time to be careful.

********************

“Did he do something to you? Tell me!” He asked furiously.

“It was nothing.”

“Tessa!” He warned.

“Listen to me,” she said stubbornly holding on to his arms, “he’s called a meeting tonight. They’ll all be there and then he’s going to tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

“That Zan’s dead.”

Her words fell into the silent room, like pebbles in a pond. Straight and deep. Creating ripples of change and tension behind them.

“How do you know?” He asked. “No, how do you know?”

“I felt it,” she blinked away the tears. Not knowing him didn’t mean she didn’t understand the pain of death, the hollowness that came from existence streaming into nothingness.

“You felt him die?” Compassion had him embracing her love had him crooning in her golden hair. “Oh, honey.”

He always warmed her. No matter how cold she felt, how many times she thought the ice inside her would never thaw, never melt. And even though it didn’t, even he couldn’t with all the warmth in the world change that…he did make her feel.

So she felt and was free.