Roswell Fanatics

Title: A Mother’s Love



Winner - Round 7


Sean Deluca

Author: Kath7

Rating: TEEN

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, or anything about Roswell. Just borrowing with thanks. This Serena and this Sean belong to me though.

Summary: The story of Sean (son of Kyle and Tess) and Serena (daughter of Max and Liz), as hinted at in Sins of the Father. I won’t say anything beyond that, but you will probably want to read Sins for this to make sense. It has recently been reposted here:

Sins of the Father

This is also a companion piece to Fall on Your Knees, which was a direct sequel to Sins (it can be found here: Fall on Your Knees). It’s all a little complicated but, suffice it to say, there are three timelines in these stories: Timeline 1 - Future Max’s (from EOTW) timeline where Max and Liz were married and the world ended in 2014; Timeline 2 - as told in Sins of the Father (the alternate timeline); Timeline 3 - As told in Sins of the Father (post-Departure) and Fall on Your Knees. This story fits into the second timeline. The Serena in this story is the one that Liz met in the granolith in Sins of the Father.

And if you’re still with me after that explanation, you are brave. lol It's on the Alien Abyss because there are some mildly disturbing things that happen in this fic - it's all an illusion, but the characters don't think so.

Thank you to Anniepoo for my beautiful banner.

This story will alternate pov, between Sean and Serena. It will also use Sarah McLachlan songs, from the album Afterglow as inspiration.

Part 1 - ~Sean~ - Fallen

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I’ve tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I’ve tried, I’ve fallen…
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don’t come round here
And tell me I told you so…

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
The lonely light of morning
The wound that would not heal
It’s the bitter taste of losing everything
That I have held so dear.

I’ve fallen…
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don’t come round here
And tell me I told you so…

Heaven bend to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I’m lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh, they turn their heads embarassed
Pretend that they don’t see
But it’s one missed step
One slip before you know it
And there doesn’t seem a way to be redeemed.

Though I’ve tried, I’ve fallen…
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don’t come round here
And tell me I told you so…

Sarah Mclachlan


December 2019 - Chicago, Illinois

I am only half asleep when the call comes. I am enjoying how good it feels to wake up with Alex’s long limbs wrapped around me. Her dark hair is tickling my nose, because her face is pressed against my neck, but I don’t mind. I like that it’s almost impossible to determine where I end and she begins. It is one of those mornings when you just don’t want to get up. It’s been snowing all night, and all I want to do is stay right here, with the one person in the world who makes me feel somewhat normal.

She’s the one person in the world who makes me feel somewhat happy. Until Alex, I’m not even sure I knew what the word meant, but I do now. Happiness is exactly where I am right now.

But, of course, I answer the phone. I’m responsible that way. Plus, I know it can only be one person. It has to be my mother. No one else would call me this early.

Alex moans slightly as I shift so that I can grab my cell, which is presently buried under a pile of my clothes next to the bed. I prepare myself to listen to one of Mom’s lengthy whine sessions (because, while I love my mother, she has a tendency to whine), gently stroking Alex’s back so that she settles more firmly against me again, and starts to snore softly. I grin slightly, reminding myself to tease her about it later.

"Hey, Mom," I say into the phone, when I finally manage to answer it.

It’s not my mother. It is a voice I don’t recognize, but it doesn’t matter. It’s what the voice says that changes absolutely everything.

"We’re in end-game."

That is all the voice says. Whoever it was, they hang up as soon as they’ve said it. But it’s enough. It makes me sit up abruptly in bed, which causes Alex to roll over onto her side, and jolts her completely awake.

"Sean? What’s wrong?" She reaches up and runs a hand down my arm, which makes me look at her. She is still half-asleep, but is becoming more alert by the minute. Her concern is obvious.

"It’s…" I trail off, uncertain. What exactly can I tell her? I mean, the truth is impossible. She knows nothing about the truth. Nothing about who I really am.

"Sean?"

"It’s my dad," I finally say. "He’s sick."

Well, close enough. His life is in danger. Just not from illness. No, it’s my bitch of a half-sister. She’s found him. Which means that it’s my job to find her.

And then it’s my job to kill her before she kills the only father I’ve ever known.

***

I remember the first time I heard her name like it was yesterday. I was about eight. I think the reason it stands out so clearly is because, while I had known of her existence my entire life, for some reason it had never occurred to me that she had a name. Kids are weird that way, I guess. But, then, she had always just been "your bastard sister," or "that brat." That’s what Mom called her anyway. Khivar never spoke of her at all. It’s like it wasn’t even worth his time. After all, she wasn’t the important one. I was. I was my father’s first born son, and I was his heir. So I guess it wasn’t entirely weird that I didn’t know her name.

It was completely by accident, that it happened. I was supposed to be in bed. I knew that Khivar was having a meeting with the other leaders, though, and I liked to listen. Usually I was allowed to, but for some reason, that night, I wasn’t. Which didn’t stop me of course. It just meant that I had to hide in the council chamber before the meeting started. So I was well installed under the table before Khivar, my mother, and the other leaders, entered the room. I was small for my age then, and the table was huge, so it wasn’t even that uncomfortable.

"Michael Guerin is dead." It was this statement, by Khivar, that started the meeting, and it sent a wave of exclamations around the room. They were all surprised, and some were upset.

"How?" I recognized the voice as that of Larek’s human counterpart. He had been using the same body at council meetings for years. The other leaders liked to change their human hosts regularly, but Larek had remained loyal to his for some reason I couldn’t explain. At least I didn’t know why then. My mom told me later that it was because that host had a connection to my father and Larek was playing both sides of the fence.

"We found where they had the little bastard hidden." My mother’s voice was calm and emotionless, as it always was when she spoke of my sister. It was only in her insistence on not calling my sister by her name that she made her displeasure at her existence known. My mother is not usually one to hold a grudge, but I knew even then that my father’s daughter was a sore point for her, because her birth had compromised my position. I was still viewed as the heir by most of the council, but not by the man who had fathered me.

Even then I knew that he preferred her to me. And I hadn’t even met him then.

"I’d prefer that you refer to the princess by her given name," Larek said, sounding upset. "She is still a king’s daughter."

"I’m sure you would," Mother replied, sounding amused. "But he is a deposed king, and she is mostly human. She is no princess."

"Khivar…" Larek complained.

Khivar sounded long-suffering as he said, "Tess." Larek drove them both crazy, and they knew that he was a traitor, but his planet held the balance of power in our system. He could not be dismissed as long as he continued to play the game and didn’t declare fully for Khivar’s enemy - my real father.

"Fine," my mother snapped. "Serena was found. Can I finish now?"

"Yes, thank you."

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, they got her out, but Michael stayed behind to cover their retreat. He was killed by…"

I had tuned out by then though. I was still sitting there in shock. Serena. My sister’s name was Serena. How had it never occurred to me before that she had an actual name? Not only that, it was a human name! They had made no attempt at all to hide that her mother was completely human.

I was called Sean by my mother, mainly because it made life easier while we were on Earth, but it wasn’t my real name. My full Antarian name was Lazar Shonen rid Zan, although we rarely used the last bit. I was Khivar’s adopted son, after all. It was Zan’s blood that gave me my claim to the Antarian throne, but that was the only part of him that was at all important. At least to Khivar and my mother.

The main problem with finding out that my sister had a name was that is made her much more real to me. Sure, I had always known of her existence. She was born only six months after me, after all. But she existed more as an idea than a reality. I had never even seen a picture of her. Now she seemed entirely too real. I even had a girl in my class at school named Serena. I never looked at that girl quite the same way again.

The very idea of my sister started to fascinate me after that. And I never quite got over the desire to meet her, although I knew I should hate her. I mean, my real father had abandoned me for her. Mom made it pretty clear that he wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t for the fact that her human mother had been pregnant.

Of course, that childish desire to know my sister was eradicated entirely the year I was ten, when the first attempt on Khivar’s life was made. Okay, it wasn’t the first attempt. But it was the first of which I was aware.

Anyway, after it was all over (my step-father’s bodyguards made short work of the shapeshifting assassin), I didn’t really understand why no one was more upset. I mean, the guy had tried to kill him, and he had almost succeeded. He had been within two feet of Khivar’s bed when the guards had taken him down. It freaked me out on a level I couldn’t even voice at the time. Khivar was the only father I knew, and the thought of losing him terrified me. My mother had always made it clear that he was the only reason that my real father left us alone - that if it wasn’t for Khivar, he would have killed both of us a long time ago, in order to secure the throne of Antar for his daughter.

I stewed about it for a few days. There was no extra security and everyone just went about their daily business. The only concession that was made was that I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore. And I didn’t even get why. I mean, it wasn’t like the assassin had tried to kill me.

So, finally, I asked my mother. One good thing about my mom, even when I was young, was that she never lied to me. I knew she would give me a straight answer. I wasn’t so sure about Khivar. He was always so cryptic, and obviously hadn’t taken any of it seriously. But Mom must have taken it a little more to heart. After all, she was the one who was keeping me home.

So I asked her. And she told me.

"On Antar, there are people who can see the future," she explained very matter-of-factly. "Khivar knows exactly how he is going to die, and it isn’t because of some rogue shapeshifter trying to score points with Zan."

I stared at her, a little uncertainly. My mom and I were both mindwarpers, so I knew that "gifts" were more than possible. But I also knew that it was part of our human brain that gave us that power. It was a surprise to me that some of the people back on Antar had gifts too. "Really?"

"Yes, really," my mother replied, sounding amused.

I was quiet for a long moment after that, watching her as she leaned into her mirror, running her hands through her bouncy yellow curls. My mind was whirling. I couldn’t quite grasp that Khivar knew exactly how he was going to die. Didn’t the fact that he knew mean that he could make sure it didn’t happen?

"But…but, Mom, if he knows, can’t he stop it?"

My mother looked over her shoulder at me. "Of course he’s trying to stop it. Why do you think he wants to find the little brat so much?" she asked.

I stared at her. "My sister?"

"Yes, your sister. She’s the one who is supposed to kill him."

She came and sat next to me on the bed. She put her arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her. I was getting a bit big for her to do that at ten. She had always been short, and I was almost as tall as her by that point, but I could feel my disappointment acutely, and I allowed her to comfort me. It was only then that I got that she had always known that I secretly wanted to know my sister, and hoped that we would meet someday, and that we could be friends. That everything that divided us - namely our parents and the will of an entire solar system - would end up meaning nothing, because I was her brother, and she needed me just as much as I needed her.

Sure, I had my mom, and I had Khivar (kind of), but I was the only kid on Earth who knew what it was like to be the child of alien-human hybrids. The only kid besides her. It was pretty damn lonely, actually, and I had always fostered a secret dream that we would meet one day and she would be the first person to understand me.

But, what my mom told me next - what she had, in fact, always told me, I just hadn’t really listened, shattered that possibility forever.

"I know it’s hard for you to hear this, Seanie, but do you finally see how dangerous they are? Your father and your sister, I mean? You can’t ever forget it, my love. He left me and you because of her. Khivar was the one who looked after us. He always has and he always will. You can’t forget that they want to hurt him because he has."

"I know," I said quietly. And now I accepted it. The fact that Khivar’s life had actually been in danger made it completely real. And it made me angry. Khivar was kind of distant and preoccupied, but he was trying to hold Antar’s throne for me. He did it because he loved me.

And my sister was going to kill him because of it. Because of me.

It was in that instant that I knew that I would make it my life’s work to see that it never happened. She would not be allowed to do it. It wasn’t because I cared about Antar’s throne, or wanted it for myself. I didn’t. I had lived my entire life on Earth and I was unlikely to ever see the planet of my mother’s origin.

But Khivar cared. And he cared about me because he did. And, for that, I had to pay him back. I had to protect him. Just as he had always protected me.

He was the only father I had ever known. My mother was right. My real father had abandoned me for her. Why on Earth did I want her in my life? She was my enemy. She was trying to steal what rightfully belonged to me.

It was that day that I knew that I was going to kill her. I would kill her before she had a chance to kill Khivar. But first I had to find her. And before I could do that, I had to grow up.

So I waited. I waited until today. Today the end-game begins. Because, today, she is finally found.

***

"Can’t I come with you?" Alex asked.

We are standing in the front hall of the small apartment we shared. We have barely enough money between the two of us to pay the rent, but I love it here. This is my home. As much as I love and appreciate my mother and Khivar, she is my home. From the day I met her, she was everything. She is the person that lonely little boy thought he would find in his sister, not understanding that what he was really looking for could never be satisfied by a sibling.

She is the one clean and pure thing in my life. And it’s only because she knows nothing about who I really am, or about the fact that our lives together can’t really start until I’ve taken care of Serena.

Soon she will. Soon I will be able to tell her everything.

It is almost over now. Soon I can forget that I ever had a sister. And then I can tell Alex the real truth about my future - our future - and there will be no more lies between us.

But she can’t ever know about this part. She can’t know that I am going to kill my own sister, even if that sister is evil. She is too good. She will not understand that, until Serena dies, nothing can be as it’s supposed to be.

"Not this time," I reply, kissing her lightly on the lips. "My mom is freaking out. I don’t want you to meet her for the first time when she’s so upset." It is a lie of course. My mom rarely, if ever, freaks out. She’s a pretty cool customer most of the time. But Alex doesn’t know that, at least not yet. Soon I’ll introduce her to my mom.

She hugs me tightly. "Okay. I’m just going to miss you."

I’m going to miss her too. We haven’t spent a night away from each other since we moved in together. We’re both only eighteen (actually Alex isn’t even quite eighteen - her birthday is still a couple of weeks away), but I know that this is the girl that I am going to spend the rest of my life with. We are young, but why wait? There will never be anyone else for me. In fact, when I get back from where I am going, I’ll be bringing an engagement ring with me.

"How long are you going to be?" she asks, following me to the door.

"Hopefully only a week or so," I say. "I’ll be back for your birthday."

She smiles, standing on her toes to kiss me again. "Okay. Call me when you get there."

I pull her against me, breathing in the clean smell of her. I can’t wait until this is over. I can’t wait until I can finally really be the person she thinks I am. All I want is to be a regular guy named Sean. Her boyfriend, and eventually her husband.

Soon. After Serena is gone, I will tell Khivar the truth - that I don’t want the throne - and I will finally be free.

"I love you," I whisper into her hair.

"I love you too. I’ll see you soon."

The words are simple. It makes the fact that they eventually turn out to be an impossibility even more devastating.

Because, two days later, I learn that the good-bye in our doorway was the last time I would ever see Alex.

Because, two days later, I am standing in a grave-yard, behind a tree, watching the woman I now know is my sister place flowers on the final resting place of her dead mother.

In that instant, as I realize that my mother was telling me the truth - that my Alex is actually Serena Evans, my sister - the Sean I was when I was with her dies. Any guilt I have about killing my only sibling is completely gone. It burns to ashes in the fire of my rage.

I know now that I am going to enjoy this.

Oh, I'm loving this... Sins of the Father was fantastic, and I know this story will be, too. I love the way you weave a tale.

Author's Note; Just a reminder. This story takes place after the SECOND timeline in Sins of the Father - the timelines from which Sean came back from the future. It's not the main timeline of Sins, but the one that Ava tells Liz about. And, so, unfortunately, in this story, Liz is dead.

To clarify, you may want to go back and read Parts 25 & 26 of Sins of the Father.

Kath

Part 2 - ~Serena~ - Drifting

You’ve been gone so long, all that you know
Has been shuffled aside as you bask in the glow
Of the beautiful strangers who whisper your name.
Do they fill up the emptiness?

Larger than life is your fiction,
In a universe made up of one,
You have been drifting for so long,
I know you don’t want to come down,
Somewhere below you, there’s people who love you,
And they’re ready for you to come home.
Please come home.

You walk in the room and the world turns to stare,
Mesmerize all who are caught in the glare,
Of the spotlight that follows wherever you go,
Does it light up the emptiness?

Larger than life is your fiction,
In a universe made up of one,
You have been drifting for so long,
I know you don’t want to come down,
Somewhere below you, there’s people who love you
And they’re ready for you to come home.
Please come home.

Sarah McLachlan

Winter 2019

It’s Ava who finds me. I haven’t seen her in close to four years, but she hasn’t changed much. It’s only a slightly duller cast to her bright blonde hair that indicates that any time has passed at all. I stare at her for close to a minute, barely believing that she is actually standing in my doorway.

"You really are here," she says. "I thought you might be gone." Her clear blue eyes are misty.

"How did you find me?" I demand, taking a step backward.

I thank my lucky stars that Sean is away. Because there is no way for me to explain to him about Ava. As far as my boyfriend knows, I’m an orphan, and that’s all I ever intend for him to know. There’s no way to explain that Ava is sort of a surrogate mom to me - that when my real mother was killed, Ava was one of three women who stepped in to raise me. They never tried to replace my mother, but the woman standing in my doorway, Maria, and Aunt Izzy were the closest people I had to a mother for the first fourteen years of my life.

If Sean met Ava, I would have to explain all of this, and then I would also have to explain that my father is still alive. I’d have to tell him that I’m not an orphan at all, but that in order to keep my family safe, I have to be.

And now it’s even more complicated. How can I explain to him that because I met him and settled here in Chicago, that because I fell in love with him, I have been too long in one place? And because of it, they have found me, and the last four years have been for nothing.

"How?" I ask again. Tears are in my eyes as well, because I really am glad to see her. In spite of the fact that she is now in danger again, I can’t be sad to see her.

"Serena," Ava replies quietly. "Sweetie, if you think about it, you’ll know how I found you."

I stare at her for a long moment. It is so instantly clear, I can’t believe I have never realized it. I cannot believe how immature and stupid I have been all along.

They have always known. They have always known where I am. Because they love me, and because they understand, they have let me believe that they didn’t.

I bring my hands to my mouth, shaking my head. "Oh my God. Oh, God…"

If they’ve known where I’ve been all along, there can only be one reason why Ava has come. There can only be one reason why it is her, and not someone else. Because, of course, it shouldn’t be her. She wouldn’t be here unless she has bad news. They’ve left me alone this long. She would not be here unless she has to tell me that running away has been completely useless.

Ava moves forward, reaching out and pulling me into her embrace. "It’s all right, sweetie. It’s going to be all right."

I pull away, dropping to my knees and rocking, my grief completely overwhelming me. Because it will never be all right again.

How can it possibly be all right when I know with absolute certainty that my father is dead?

***

When I was fourteen, I ran away from home.

Now, right off the bat, this might give you some ideas about me. Trust me when I tell you that they are all wrong. I wasn’t into drugs, or anything like that. I wasn’t a troubled teen either. In fact, if anything, I was too well adjusted, or at least that’s what Maria always told me. Considering the fact that I am who I am, she was probably right.

I didn’t run away because I hate my family, either, which I know is why a lot of teenagers leave home. In fact, I ran away for completely the opposite reason. I ran away because I love my family. I also ran away because my family loves me too much.

Loving me is a curse. I cursed them from the day I was born, and when I was fourteen I was tired of the fact that, because I exist, my family is going to suffer forever. So I ran, in the hopes of stopping any more of them from dying. If I left, maybe they could be safe.

I ran because I knew that he was coming. He was coming for me, and in attempts to stop it, my mother, and Kyle, and Michael, and my Aunt Izzy all died.

At fourteen, when Aunt Izzy died, I was finally old enough to realize that what had happened to my family - what was happening to them - was all because of me. Because of the fact that I exist, and because of who I am. At eight, when Michael was murdered, I was still a little girl. I was sheltered from what really happened to him, and even if I’d known, I probably still wouldn’t have understood. I was only six months old when my mother and Kyle were killed. Needless to say, I didn’t get it then either. But I get it now. The fact that they all died too young can all be blamed on the fact that I was born.

If I really think about it, I bet I can figure out how Alex’s death was my fault too. Because, even though I wasn’t born yet when it happened, I know that it was probably done to make sure that I never came along. Even though Tess killed Alex by accident, she was doing it partly to ensure that my mom and dad were never together. Because, if they weren’t, I would never be born. Because, even if Tess didn’t know about me then, I have a feeling he did.

He has been behind it all along. In fact, most people would probably blame him for everything horrible that has happened. I know my dad would. Maria, and Ava, and Uncle Jim too.

I don’t. I blame myself. Because if he wasn’t after me, he would just leave them all alone. Which is why I ran.

I ran away from home to save my family, but it did no good. My father is dead. And, yet again, it is my fault. Because I know in my heart that it was not my father he wanted anymore. I’ve known it for years. He wants me. Now he has run out of patience, and to get to me, he has killed my dad, and I know for a fact that this is the end.

It is time to face him - to put an end to this once and for all. It is time to stop running.

***

I am sitting on the couch, staring at nothing. I am trying to remember the last conversation I had with my dad. I know that it was about something totally innocuous. I know we were at breakfast, the morning I left them all, but why can’t I remember what we talked about? Shouldn’t I remember? I mean, I knew at the time that it was the last morning I would ever spend with him. I was running away that day - to protect them. To protect him most of all. I must have said something important to him. Didn’t I? Did I even tell him I loved him that day?

"Why did he never come see me?" I ask Ava. Now that I know that they have been watching over me for years - that I never really ran away at all - I feel myself getting angry. The last four years have been a complete waste! I could have spent them with my family. If they had just told me that I couldn’t really leave them behind, I wouldn’t have even tried! And then I would have been with my dad, and none of this would have happened.

I could have saved him.

When Aunt Izzy died, I still hadn’t mastered my powers. When Michael died, I was too young, and I wasn’t aware that I had inherited my father’s gift of healing. My mother, and Kyle, and my Grandma Evans all died before I was even old enough to know them.

But I could have saved my father. If I had been with him, he would not have died.

"He knew that you needed your space, sweetie," Ava replies, stroking my back soothingly. She is sitting beside me, but I suddenly move away. It is not the first time I have tried to stop one of them from playing "mommy" to me. Because as much as I love them all, none of them are my mother.

I have no mother. And now I have no father. I’m not eighteen yet, so that makes me an orphan, doesn’t it? At least I won’t be lying about that anymore.

"He was always near you," Ava adds. "He couldn’t let you go completely. He never left you alone."

"But I wanted to be alone!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. "I was trying to protect him. Why couldn’t he just let me go?"

I know that I’m being foolish. I know that my father would have been killed anyway, even if he hadn’t known where I was. I mean, I’ve already figured out that Khivar killed my dad to bring me out of hiding. And, yet, I am so angry, I can barely see straight.

He’s left me now. He’s gone now. He’s left me alone now.

Because even though I left to protect him, even though I didn’t know that he was still protecting me all along, I knew that if I ever needed my dad, all I had to do was call. And now I can’t. Now he is really gone from my life, and I can’t believe how mad I am at him.

Deep down, I know that I am angry because I am trying to avoid grief, which will incapacitate me. If I let my sorrow over my dad’s death take hold, I will never be able to do what needs to be done. I will never be able to gather my strength to take on Khivar.

I will be forced to really face the fact that I waited too long to deal with the madman who has haunted my family for years. That if I had confronted him before now, my dad would still be alive. When I was fourteen, I was too young. When I was eight, I was far too young. When I was a baby, I didn’t even know what destiny was.

But I’m not too young now. I wasn’t too young yesterday. Yesterday I knew it was my destiny to meet him one day, even though I have avoided it for four years. But, because I waited one day too long, my father is gone, and it is my fault.

"Serena, how could he?" Ava asks sadly, answering the question that I already knew the answer to anyway. "He was your father."

Of course he couldn’t. I know this. But I also know that it’s not just for the reason that Ava thinks. It’s not just because my dad loved me. I know he did, but that’s not the real reason he couldn’t let me go. The real reason was that I was the only piece of my mother he had left.

My mother. My beloved mother. My mother, whom my dad mourned every second of every day. My mother, who died protecting me. My mother, so missed by everyone, that even though I never knew her, she was so talked about over the years, I feel like I did know her.

I felt like I knew her. I mourned her, and Maria mourned her, and the others did too. But none mourned her like my father.

I must have been crazy -okay, maybe just immature and stupid - to think that he would just let me run away when I was a child. At fourteen, I wouldn’t have understood that, or how much I meant to him, because of my mother. At seventeen, now that I’m with Sean, I know exactly what my father must have gone through when he lost my mom, and I understand even more how hard it must have been for him to give me the freedom I needed.

When she died, my mom wasn’t much older than I am now. Barely eighteen years old, and she had already given birth to me, and she had been the love of my father’s life. She never even had time to be a wife. I know that it was one of my father’s greatest regrets that he and my mom were never married. But they were busy looking for my brother then. They were young, and I don’t think it ever crossed either of their minds that one of them could die before they made it legal. I mean, I don’t know why it didn’t cross their minds. Alex was already dead, after all. It didn’t though.

But, I guess I can’t really understand what it was like to be them - so young, so full of hope, and so certain that, because they had each other, there was no way it could go wrong. In spite of Alex’s murder, they were not like me. I have been conscious of the inevitability of death my entire life. That it can happen in an instant, to young and strong people, without any warning. And I have also watched what it does to the people left behind.

I’ve seen what it did to Maria, who has been a shadow of the bubbly woman I remember from my childhood since Michael’s death. When I was a little kid, my mom’s best friend was more of an older sister than a mother to me. She was the one who would play make believe with me, who took me to my first concert (Hilary Duff - and she loved it as much as I did). She was the one who told me crazy stories about her and my mom from when they were kids (okay, they were mostly crazy Maria stories, but my mom was always in them to pull her out of whatever scrape she had wound up in). But, after Michael was killed, all that changed. Oh, she went through the motions with me still, but even I could see that the sparkle that had made her Maria was gone. I missed Michael too - his gruff exterior had never fooled me, particularly as he would often forget to act that way, especially when no one else was around - but I still know that no one missed him like Maria. She was never the same again.

I know what Kyle’s death did to my Uncle Jim. I remember once, when I was about twelve. I was looking at some old photo albums that Aunt Izzy had been going through to make a Christmas present for my Grandpa Evans. I came across a picture of Uncle Jim when he was still sheriff. When I mentioned to Aunt Izzy that he must have been really young in it, she told me that it was actually the same year he had been let in on the secret of our heritage, which was only a year or so before Kyle was killed. I couldn’t quite believe it. He looked about fifty years younger than he does now. It didn’t take me long, comparing some other photos, to realize that you could tell, just by looking at Uncle Jim’s face in pictures, which were taken before Kyle died, and which were taken after. He just looks old in the ones after - haunted.

Then there’s my dad, of course, who was always loving, but with a dark edge to him that could be scary, even to me. For one thing, he never smiled. I mean, never. He’d sometimes turn the corners of his mouth up a bit, but it wasn’t a smile. There were also times where he’d shut himself up in his room for a day or so, and no one was allowed in. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did, everything was quiet around the house, and Maria, or Ava, or Aunt Izzy, would come to take me to sleep over with one of them. It was only when I was older that it dawned on me that the dates when my dad would do that were consistent: September 18th and June 9th. The date my father healed my mother when they were teenagers, and the day my mother died.

Yes, I knew how death could change people. Because, generally, my father was loving, and gentle, and always made me feel safe, but I knew that he was not the same person he had been when my mom lived. I don’t know how I knew it, but I just did.

The thing is though, in spite of all the death that surrounded me, I had a happy childhood. I never felt like my life was in danger. Even when Michael died, I didn’t really understand what it was about. I was aware from a young age that we were half alien and that my dad had been a king in a previous life; it wasn’t weird to me because I’d grown up with it as fact. I didn’t know about the other side of who we were. About the side where people - complete strangers - wanted to kill us - wanted to kill me - and that the reason we moved all the time wasn’t because of my dad’s job, as I’d been told, but because we were running for our lives.

No, I was happy growing up, and I know that it was because my dad - and Ava, and Maria, and Aunt Izzy, and Uncle Jim, and Michael before he died - made it so. I never knew what was going on, and, to this day, I don’t blame them a bit. I mean, it was hard enough that I was motherless. I didn’t need to know.

However, it did make it about ten times worse when I did finally figure out what was really going on. Because I was completely unprepared for it, and it hit me much harder than it would have otherwise.

***

I was twelve at the time. It was an accident, of course. If they’d known that I was in the room, they wouldn’t have been talking about it, but they didn’t. I didn’t tell them I was, because I was a little embarrassed to be there. I mean, at twelve, I knew it was weird that I was in my father’s bedroom closet.

I should probably explain a bit about why I was in the closet. It was a huge walk-in in this particular house, and it was where my dad kept all the things he had left that used to belong to my mom. So, even at twelve, I sometimes still snuck in there just to spend time with her. Not really with her, of course, but when I was with her stuff, that’s when I felt closest to the woman - really, the girl - I had never known. There were pictures of her scattered around our house, certainly, and I had heard lots of stories about her growing up, but nothing told me as much about her as her possessions, as the things that were important to her did.

There were some of her clothes, which I imagined still smelt like her, although I’m sure that, after eleven years, they didn’t. Most of her books were there, a lot of which were about science, but there were some novels too (by the time I was twelve, I had read about half of them). I loved her music most of all: Sarah McLachlan, and Remy Zero, and Dido, and Gomez, and even an old tape of the band Maria and Alex had formed when they were kids. There was all that, plus other knicknacks that made her my mom. Things that made her Liz Parker.

Liz Parker lived in that closet - at least to me.

So that’s why I was in there when I overheard the conversation between my dad, and Aunt Izzy, and Maria, and Ava.

"Was the flight long?" Aunt Izzy asked, as they all trooped in. I had been absorbed in A Tale of Two Cities, using an old flashlight I had found in one of my mom’s boxes, so I was surprised. I felt my heart leap with joy when I heard my dad answer her. He was home! Ava and Maria had been staying with me for a few days while Dad was away on business. I had missed him.

It didn’t occur to me right then that it was weird that they were all in my dad’s bedroom having a conversation.

"Where’s Serena?" my dad asked, after he’d told Aunt Izzy about his flight -shortly, might I add. It dawned on me later that Aunt Izzy had been putting off the conversation that followed. I think she might have known it was going to be bad, and she was trying to pretend it wasn’t. Aunt Izzy did that a lot. My dad knew it, and he wasn’t going to allow it.

I climbed to my feet, preparing to make my presence known. But something in Aunt Izzy’s tone when she answered my father made me pause. "The sheriff’s picking her up. He and Amy are going to look after her tonight." Aunt Izzy and my dad still called Uncle Jim "the sheriff," even though he hadn’t been a sheriff for years. I’m not entirely sure why. I think it was a respect thing.

I wasn’t thinking about that at the moment though. I was grimacing actually. Uncle Jim wasn’t going to find me at school. I had skipped out early, of course, because I was here, and I knew now that I was in deep trouble. Aunt Izzy and Maria would understand why I had left, once I explained that Garrett had asked Sarah Krenshaw to go to the soc-hop with him. My dad was going to freak though. I mean, he had no clue I was even interested in boys. To him, I was still a little girl. But Aunt Izzy and Maria knew all about Garrett. They would calm Dad down though. I really should just step out of the closet and face the music while they were there to intercede.

But I didn’t. Because my dad said, "Good. She can’t know about this."

After that, I wasn’t going anywhere. If I couldn’t know about it, I most certainly planned to. I wasn’t a kid anymore!

"Was he there?" Ava asked quietly.

"No," my dad replied. I frowned. He sounded really weird. Who were they talking about?

"I’m sorry, Max," Ava said. "I was sure the intel we had was accurate. I trusted Langley. I shouldn’t have."

It was Maria who said, "Max, what?"

There was a long pause. "The intel was correct," my dad finally said. There was another long pause. "We found Nicholas. Tess was gone."

I felt my eyes widen. Tess. I hadn’t heard that name in years. I knew who Tess was, of course. She was Ava’s twin sister, and she was also the mother of my dad’s son.

I knew that I had a brother out there. No one ever kept that a secret, which is part of the reason why I ended up so shocked by everything else I heard that day . Tess had left town when she found out she was pregnant, because she knew that my dad was really in love with my mom. Or at least that’s what I assumed. At that point it still hadn’t really crossed my mind that it was kind of weird that my dad had a kid with another woman, when I’d only ever heard stories about how he’d loved my mom since he was a little boy. But I never really thought much about my brother when I was young. My dad had given up on finding him years before - or so I thought at the time - and I knew he wasn’t ever going to be a part of my life. It might seem kind of heartless, but I was a kid, and the thought of sharing my dad didn’t appeal to me anyway.

So, needless to say, I was a little surprised to hear that my dad hadn’t been on a business trip at all, but, rather, he had gone to find Tess. Which, logically, even to a twelve year old, led to the fact that he had gone to find my brother.

I didn’t really have time to feel upset or hurt though, because they were still talking.

"I’m sorry, Max." This was Aunt Izzy. "Where’s Nicholas now?"

"Dead," my dad said, so quietly I could barely hear him.

"Oh, Max…" Aunt Izzy trailed off, sounding upset.

"Isabel, don’t do that!" Maria exclaimed. "Don’t make him feel guilty! If anyone deserved it, Nicholas did."

"Maria," Dad said. "It doesn’t matter."

"It does matter, Max! He killed Liz. He killed Michael! That little viper deserved everything he had coming. I hope you made it slow." I blinked. I had never heard Maria sound like that. So venomous. So filled with hate.

It’s hard to believe, but even after this, it took me another thirty seconds or so to realize the implication of this conversation.

They were talking about the fact that my father had killed someone. He had killed someone called Nicholas, and Maria was glad, Aunt Izzy was mad, and Ava wasn’t saying anything at all.

"I’m sorry," Aunt Izzy exclaimed. "But we agreed! We agreed we wouldn’t kill anyone again. Not after Lonnie and Rath. We’re not like them!"

"Isabel, do I need to remind you what that troll did to Michael?" Maria demanded. "Do I need to remind you about how we found him?" Her voice was rising hysterically. "Do I need to remind you what he would have done to Serena if he’d gotten his hands on her?"

"No," Aunt Izzy said. "No, Maria. You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just…" I could tell that she was crying now. "God! Why can’t this end? Why won’t it ever end?" The fear in my aunt’s voice made my heart beat faster. It was only then that Maria’s last words penetrated my turbulent mind.

Do I need to remind you what he would have done to Serena if he’d gotten his hands on her?

I stumbled back against the closet wall, knocking over a couple of boxes in the process. Seconds later, the closet door, which had been only slightly ajar, was wrenched open, and I was staring at my father.

This is the part of that day that haunts me more than any other. Because it’s not just my father at that moment that is burned into my memory. It’s the memory of my father, with his hand raised, the palm outstretched, his dark eyes blazing, and me knowing absolutely that he is about to kill me.

He never forgave himself for it. I know that now, but at the time, all I knew was terror.

I screamed, and I ran. I ended up in my bedroom, where I melted the lock on my door, and I crouched in the corner, trembling.

Strangely, when I reflect on it now, I think it was meant to be that I was in that closet when I found out the truth. Because, in some ways, I feel like my mom was with me that day. While the tears were streaming down my face, while my heart was pounding with fear, I almost felt like she was there, with her arms around me, comforting me. She had accompanied me out of that closet, and she would make everything all right.

It’s okay, Serena. It’s going to be okay.

Of course, nothing was ever okay again after that day, but, at the time, I was still willing to let it be.

Maria and Aunt Izzy were pounding on my door by then. "Serena!" Aunt Izzy called. "Serena, open this door!"

I didn’t move. I knew that Aunt Izzy could just use her powers to open the door anyway, and I sat there with my eyes closed, unable to let go of the feeling of my mother’s presence.

Eventually the door burst open and Maria and Aunt Izzy almost tumbled into my room. They both fell to their knees beside me and Aunt Izzy pulled me into her arms. I allowed it, but I did stiffen. I felt momentarily angry with her for trying to take my mother’s place. How could she not know that no one could? That the only person I wanted was my real mother?

"Serena, honey, we’re so sorry. You weren’t supposed to…" Maria trailed off. She was crying too by this point. It made me feel bad. I knew that these women would give their lives for me - in fact, Aunt Izzy did, two years later - and here I was wishing them both away.

What I was most aware of though was their fear. Their fear that I was going to freak out on them, their fear that I wouldn’t understand. But, mostly, their fear that I would be afraid now too. Not only that I would be afraid, but that I would be afraid of them.

"Honey, talk to us," Aunt Izzy whispered, after she’d rocked me for several long, silent minutes.

"Where’s Dad?" I asked. It suddenly hit me that it was weird that he wasn’t there. That he had allowed Aunt Izzy and Maria to comfort me, and hadn’t come himself.

"I think he’s in the back-yard," Maria told me quietly. "He feels terrible." Her lips tightened. "Serena, do you know that you just took about ten years off of all of our lives? What were you doing in there? Why aren’t you at school?"

Tears welled in my eyes again. "Garrett…"

Aunt Izzy and Maria exchanged a look. I felt Aunt Izzy heave a sigh under me, because I was still leaning against her, her arms now a comfort. Because my mother was gone. Maria and Aunt Izzy had come, and my mom didn’t need to be there anymore.

Which of course wasn’t true at all. She needed to be there more than ever. But she couldn’t be. Because she was dead. And it was suddenly all making perfect sense to me. All the moving, all the whispered conversations that would stop when I entered a room. All the things I had been blissfully able to ignore while I grew up because they all let me.

My mother was dead because of someone named Nicholas. I needed to know why. I had no idea yet that the real truth - that Nicholas was just a pawn in a greater game - was going to change my life forever. I was twelve. How could I have known?

"Tell me," I insisted, pulling away from Aunt Izzy and wrapping my arms around myself. "Tell me who Nicholas was. I want to know."

They didn’t lie to me. I have to give them that much credit. And I have to love them for it. I have to love them for lying to me for so long - for protecting me - and then when it was time to tell the truth, they did it.

"Nicholas killed your mother," Maria told me gently, after exchanging another look with Aunt Izzy. I could see that my aunt was itching to take me in her arms again, but I held myself rigid, unwilling to allow it. Not yet. "You were kidnapped when you were a baby. Liz, the sheriff, and me…We found you. But Liz didn’t get out. She was killed in an explosion."

"And he killed Michael too?"

Maria closed her eyes briefly. In the end, she just nodded.

"What about Alex?"

Aunt Izzy picked up the story, because it was obvious that Maria couldn’t continue. "Nicholas didn’t kill Alex, but we’re pretty sure he had a hand in it. He was dangerous and he was merciless. When Michael died, that’s why we left Providence so quickly. Nicholas had found us. Michael stayed behind to make sure they were thrown off our trail…" She didn’t finish, but I understood. He had been captured, and based on what Maria had said in the other room, he had died an awful death.

"But you were mad at my dad for killing him," I reminded Aunt Izzy. "I heard you." I was still trying to grasp the fact that my father had killed anyone at all. My gentle, loving father. And, yet, I can’t say that I was entirely shocked. I had seen things in my father’s eyes sometimes…I had seen something on his face when he had thrown open that closet door only a few minutes ago - something that scared me.

It made me angry that this Nicholas could do that to my dad. That him killing my mom, and Michael, and maybe Alex, had changed my dad. That he made my dad able to kill, when it wasn’t who my dad was supposed to be. I knew it wasn’t. My dad was gentle and good. My dad had healing in his hands. It was his major gift. He was not supposed to be a killer.

"Why? Why is this happening? What do they want from us?" I demanded. I was no longer crying at all. I felt older somehow. Heavier. I knew already that there was no more time for tears. I just needed to know everything.

"At first, they wanted your dad," Aunt Izzy explained. "You know already that he’s the king of another planet, sweetie. They wanted him to go back."

"But what about you and Ava? Shouldn’t they want you too?" I didn’t mention Michael. Because, of course, Michael was gone. Dead. Because of Nicholas, who my father had now killed.

"They didn’t need us," Aunt Izzy said. She looked down for a minute, sighed again, then continued, "It’s very complicated, Serena, but basically there were two sets of us sent. We were cloned, and the other Michael, and the other me…At first, they were still alive. And Ava’s duplicate was already working with them. But your father’s duplicate was dead. They needed Max to go back."

I stared at her. It was suddenly all making sense. "So Tess isn’t Ava’s twin sister at all?"

"No," Aunt Izzy confirmed. "She’s not."

I frowned. "I heard Maria say that they would kill me. Why do they care about me? And if they do, why didn’t they just kill me when I was a baby?"

"Because you weren’t important then," Maria said. She had managed to recover her emotions, although her voice was still trembling. "But your dad, and Ava, and Isabel…" She trailed off, glanced at Isabel. My aunt had her eyes closed, but she nodded. I could tell that this part of the story was extremely difficult for her. "And Michael too…They killed Michael and Isabel’s duplicates when we were trying to find you. Which meant that they did need Michael and Isabel to go back. So the plan changed. They weren’t going back anymore, because the fact that your dad wouldn’t go made it pretty clear that Michael and Isabel wouldn’t either."

"They were called Lonnie and Rath," I said. Aunt Izzy’s eyes snapped open in surprise. "You said their names. When I was in the closet," I explained.

"That’s right," Aunt Izzy replied.

"Was it bad?" I asked, staring at her. "Having to kill them?"

Aunt Izzy’s forehead creased, but she didn’t lie to me. "Yes," she replied quietly.

"They deserved it," Maria said resolutely, certainly. "They were using children to get their way. They were completely evil. They killed your Grandma Evans, Serena, and they kidnapped you. There was no choice. They would have kept coming. As long as they lived, all they wanted was to go back to Antar, and your father wouldn’t go with them. They couldn’t go back without him. They would have kept killing people he loved until he agreed."

There was a long silence as I absorbed this. Only one part really stood out for me though. "Children? You mean, my brother?"

"Yes," Aunt Izzy agreed. "Your brother."

"I didn’t think Dad was looking for him anymore." I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact that this had been kept from me - or the fact that my dad had never stopped looking for his other child. The other parts of it I could understand. I was a kid, after all. It was their job as the adults to protect me from that stuff. But I should have been able to know about my brother.

"Serena, you know your dad," Maria reminded me quietly. "If you were taken away from him, he would not rest a single day until he found you. Of course it’s been the same with Sean."

"But why couldn’t I know?" I demanded.

"We didn’t want you to get your hopes up," Aunt Izzy replied. "There have been so many disappointments. So many trails that have led nowhere, or where we’ve been minutes too late."

I thought about this. I thought about my brother. The brother I was pretty sure I didn’t want around, because he would take some of my dad’s attention away from me. The brother whose mother my dad had never even loved.

My brother who lived with awful people. My dad had said that "Tess was gone," which implied that she had been with Nicholas. That my brother, her son, had been there too. With the people who were responsible for so many deaths. With the people who were responsible for turning my father into a man he wasn’t supposed to be.

But my father was still a good man. And my brother had never even met him. He had been denied our father’s - our family’s - love. And I realized that he was just as entitled to it as I was.

"Dad should keep looking," I said resolutely. "I want him to find Sean."

"He’ll be glad to hear that," Aunt Izzy told me. She paused, then said quietly, "Your dad didn’t mean to scare you, sweetie."

"I know." And I wasn’t scared anymore. The shock of that look on my father’s face - that killing look - would haunt me, but I knew already that it wasn’t really my dad. That he was only like that because he wanted to protect the people he loved.

He wanted to make sure that what had happened to my mother didn’t happen to anyone else he loved.

That it didn’t happen to me.

"Why do they want me now?" I asked. "How do you know it’s me they want?"

"Because they killed Michael," Aunt Izzy explained. I looked at Maria, who was still trembling slightly. She always did that when we talked about Michael, even if we were telling good stories about him. "If they still wanted to go back to Antar, they would never have done that to him. Because the spaceship to go back needs to have a complete four square to fly."

"And if they don’t want to go back to Antar, then you are the only reason we can think of for them to keep coming after us," Maria finished for her.

I frowned. "But why do they want to kill me? I don’t understand. What do I even matter? They have my brother. He’s Dad’s heir anyway. He’s older than me."

Aunt Izzy reached out and pulled me to her. I let her this time. "That’s the real problem, honey," she whispered against my hair. "We don’t know."

***

They didn’t know then, and I’m pretty sure that no one really knows now. No one knows why Khivar wants me, but he has killed my father to make sure that I go to him.

I’m not going to disappoint him. Not this time. I am done running.

He has made the biggest mistake of his life.

To be continued…

A/N - Just wanted to clarify that there is a reason I have not yet revealed how Max died. <grin> I’m sure you’re frustrated. Lol That’s my job.

Oh, Kath...the way you are describing the innermost feelings of Serena as a child are just stunning. Her love for her mother, even though she didn't know her..and her memories of Max as a father just blew me away.
You're ripping my heart out here

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Sorry this has taken so long, but it was unbelievably difficult to write. I have seriously been working on it for two weeks. And I'm still not happy with it, but I give up at this point.

Thanks to Cookie for betaing.

Oh, and for those who care, Born of the Stars is also updated in CC. Or at least it will be in about ten minutes.

Part 3 - ~Sean~ - Stupid

Night lift up the shades
Let in the brilliant light of morning
But steady there now
For I am weak and starving for mercy
Sleep has left me alone
To carry the weight of unraveling where we went wrong
It’s all I can do to hang on
To keep me from falling
Into old familiar shoes.

How stupid could I be?
A simpleton could see
That you’re no good for me
But you’re the only one I see.

Love has made me a fool
It set me on fire and watched as I floundered
Unable to speak
Except to cry out and wait for your answer
But you come around in your time
Speaking of fabulous places
Create an oasis
Dries up as soon as you’re gone
You leave me here burning
In this desert without you.

How stupid could I be?
A simpleton could see
That you’re no good for me
But you’re the only one I see.

Everything changes
Everything falls apart
Can’t stop to feel myself losing control
But deep in my senses I know.

How stupid could I be?
A simpleton could see
That you’re no good for me
But you’re the only one I see…

Sarah McLachlan

I lean against the tree, watching her, waiting for her to notice me. Eventually she does.

She turns her head, sending brown hair sweeping across her cheek, and her dark gaze meets mine. My heart turns over in my chest, as it does every time our eyes meet. As it has since the very first time I ever saw her. I press my lips together, forcing the feeling away.

My expression is blank, but hers is not. I watch the quick play of emotions across her face. First surprise, then pleasure, then wariness. It is all there, easy to read, because this is her, and I know her better than I know myself.

Or at least I thought I did. Apparently I never knew her at all. It takes all of my strength to keep my rage at bay, to not let her see it. Because it is not yet time. If I let it get out of hand, I may just kill her for looking so sweet, so loving, so glad to see me. I see it all cross her face and my fury is almost beyond my control. I can feel my hands itching to close around her pale throat. My breathing becomes ragged, but I force myself to control it. I force myself to feel nothing.

She can’t see the truth on my face. She can’t suspect that I finally know and that she is going to pay.

This must be played perfectly, or I am never going to survive it. If I don’t deal with her exactly right, she is going to haunt me forever.

My mother told me that there is only one way to make sure that doesn’t happen, and she was right.

Serena must cease to exist. She can’t ever live. Because, as long as she does, I will never get over this.

I have to erase her.

And the sheer irony of this whole, horrible mess is that, in order to do that, I still need her.

***

After leaving Chicago almost three days ago, I flew directly to Roswell, New Mexico. My stepfather’s command center is secreted in the desert outside the small town where the deposed king of Antar’s clone stayed hidden in plain sight for more than a decade. It is the town where my real father met the human, Liz Parker, forever changing the course of my mother’s - and my - life.

Ironically, the base is situated in an old army installation, Eagle Rock, which was where Max Evans was taken by the F.B.I. when he was briefly captured by them. My mother suggested it for Khivar’s use. It is close to the place the granolith was secreted for a long time, and it is also a good place to keep an eye on the activities of our enemies, if and when they are drawn back to their hometown. But it is also a place the Roswellian faction would never think to look for us. This place held bad memories for my real father and his supporters. They haven’t come near it since the day they rescued Max.

The spot is also ideal because Khivar likes the desert. It reminds him of Antar. Apparently the ship that carried my real father, and my mother, and the other pods was on a trajectory for the southwestern United States in the first place because its terrain and climate are fairly similar to that on Antar. Those who had sent them hoped that the transition from one planet to another would not be as difficult for them if they were raised in a region as close to home as possible on Earth. And, so, for Khivar, New Mexico is also a good place to hang his hat. He has barely left it since he arrived on this world ten years ago. He hates Earth, but he finds New Mexico tolerable at least.

One of the main reasons for the base near Roswell was that the renegade members of the Royal Four, as well as their supporters, used to be drawn back regularly. It was how Michael Guerin was killed actually. Maria Deluca, his long-time girlfriend, came home, supposedly in secret, to visit her mother. We later learned that the trip was to bring Amy Deluca into hiding with them, because she was going to marry Jim Valenti. A contingent of our followers trailed Maria and Amy back to Rhode Island, where the rest of the Roswellians were holed up with my half-sister. Most of them escaped, but Michael did not. None of them have been back since, but the Parkers and Max Evans’ adopted father still live in the small desert town. The odds that they would come again someday seemed good.

Apparently my stepfather’s long-term strategy paid off. I learned this as soon as I got off the plane in Albuquerque. I was being driven back to Eagle Rock by Khivar’s right hand man, Steen, who has served in that capacity since Nicholas’ murder six years ago. He told me little about why I had been called back. Steen is the strong, silent type - the complete opposite of what I remember Nicholas to be. He lets Khivar or my mother do the talking. I have a feeling that it’s why my mom likes him so much. In the time it took for Khivar to get to Earth, my mom and Nicholas grew heartily sick of each other. They spent a lot of years trying to stay one step ahead of my real father, who hunted us mercilessly. It was only Khivar’s arrival that made Max Evans go underground and, so, helped keep me alive.

"Did you have a good flight?" Steen asked. As usual, he avoided any real conversation. Steen is all about the small talk.

"Fine," I muttered. I wasn’t going to put up with it. "Who called?"

"You know who called," Steen replied non-committally.

I sighed. I did know. Of course it had been my mother - or at least someone speaking for her. Khivar knew nothing about my plan to take out Serena before she could hurt him. My step-father would be angry that I was there. He tried to protect me from all of this. He has never understood that I can’t allow him to fight for my birthright alone; that I need to support him, even if it isn’t a birthright I particularly want. In the end, it’s mine, and because he won’t give it up, I can’t entirely either.

Because that’s what I really wanted to do. Give it all up. I had never wanted any of this, and I had even more reason not to want any of it now. Alex was never far from my thoughts. I knew she was waiting for me and I wished more than anything that I was back in Chicago with her.

But Serena was waiting for me too. And I had a fated date with my sister that couldn’t be canceled. Steen wasn’t talking, but I didn’t doubt that the time had arrived. My mother wouldn’t have called me home if it hadn’t.

As we drove down Roswell’s main drag, I looked around uninterestedly. The town had always bored me. It was sleepy and backward - nothing like Chicago. I was sure that half my disgust for the alien capital of North America also stemmed from the fact that my real father had grown up there, but I didn’t analyze that at the time. All I knew was that I was annoyed to be back.

The irony that the final chapter of my real father’s story - the death of his beloved heir - would happen in the place he had left so many years before to make sure it didn’t did not escape me though. It was poetic in a way.

I knew that Steen wasn’t taking me to the base. Mom was waiting for me in a small house near Roswell’s main drag. It was obviously an attempt to prevent Khivar from knowing I was back.

When we arrived my mother’s small form was curled up on a white couch in the living room. The whole place felt like my mom - cold, stark, and clean. This was obviously a retreat of sorts for her. Mom has always reminded me of a cat - watchful, wily, and mostly solitary. She doesn’t act until she knows that she is certain of success and, so, the fact that she called me back meant that we were finally in a position to eliminate my sister once and for all. It was actually going to be possible to end it.

My heart was pounding evenly as I went and sat across from Mom. It did not speed up. I wasn’t excited. I wasn’t dreading this. I didn’t feel anything. There would be time to feel things later.

Mom obviously agreed. She didn’t get up to greet me. This was business.

"She’s here?" I asked, without preamble.

"Not yet," my mother replied. She gazed at me steadily, her blue cat eyes gleaming. "But she will be."

"Why?"

"Your father is here."

I didn’t allow it to show on my face, but I’ll admit it. This shocked me. After all these years, Max Evans had come home. Which was just plain weird. And kind of scary actually. Because it had to mean something.

My tone was even though as I asked, "What’s going on? Why are they all back?"

"I called them here," Mom said, smiling slightly.

This surprised me even more. "What do you mean? They came?"

"Of course." Mom shrugged. She then reached her slender arms over her head, stretching. Her lack of concern chilled me. If it was this easy to bring my father out of hiding, why hadn’t she done it before? Why had she waited all these years?

"Why?" I demanded. Something was not right here. I could feel it in my bones. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the answer.

"Because you’re here, my love," she replied.

"Me?" I didn’t understand. What was she trying to tell me?

"You’re the bait," my mother replied. "He wants you, Sean. And, so, we’re going to give you to him."

"I don’t understand."

But I did. My real father wanted me out of the way so that my sister’s path to the throne would be clear. My mother planned to had me over to him on a silver platter and then to have me take him out.

It was such an obvious plan - such a good plan - I almost couldn’t believe we hadn’t thought of it before.

I was no longer calm. I was still hiding it from her, but my state of detachment was gone. I felt my heart-rate speed up.

My father. My real father. For this to work, we were going to have to come face to face. Could I really do that? Did I want to do it? My sister was one thing, but Max Evans had never been part of the equation as far as I was concerned.

I had no love lost for the father who had abandoned me, but, also, somewhere deep inside, I truly believed that if he really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. He’d had seven years, after all. Seven years before Khivar arrived on the planet to take me under his wing. For those seven years Max Evans had held the upper hand - a complete four square composed of his sister, Michael Guerin, and Ava from New York. With that kind of power, they should have found us ten times over.

And, yet, they never did.

I remembered those days well - the days on the run with Mom and Nicholas. I still remember the fear that both of them tried hard to hide. I still remember whole nights spent in the trunks of cars, or in the backs of closets, as he closed in on us. My mother never tried to mask what would happen if he found us. We would all die horrible deaths.

And, yet, in spite of that - in spite of having everything in his favour - my real father never appeared. He was always a step behind, always a day late.

As I stared at my mother, what I had always tried to deny to myself stirred deep within.

If my father wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.

My mother was watching me closely. Her blues eyes were narrowed, and for a moment I knew that she had somehow read my mind. Mom has always been able to do that - to know just what I’m thinking. And my slight hesitation was pissing her off.

"Sean, you need to get over it," she snapped, confirming that she was onto me. "You are mine. You are my son. You are Khivar’s son. Max Evans is nothing to you. I’ve raised you so that this is true, because you are nothing to him. You don’t owe that man anything."

I lowered my gaze, swallowing hard. She was right of course. My mother was always right. It wasn’t until later that I actually knew how right she was in this instance - that my father didn’t love me and had absolutely no compunction about using me. That he had spent those years one step behind, and one day late, because he was a sadist, and he was waiting until he could get me real good.

As it turned out, I was about to find out that my real father thought death was too good for me.

But I didn’t know that three days ago. Then, I still wondered about him. But I also didn’t want to disappoint my mother. I couldn’t afford to disappoint Khivar. His life depended on it. My unresolved daddy issues could wait, at least until I came face to face with them. The man who had been the only father I had ever known needed me.

This was destiny, this meeting. I had to believe it. Because if it was my destiny to take out my sister, apparently it was also my destiny to kill my father first.

"This is a good plan," I said quickly, wanting to reassure my mother that I was on board. I knew Mom had my best interests at heart. And it was a good plan. If it wasn’t going to work, she never would have brought me home. As stated, my mother only acts when she is assured of victory. "Why haven’t we thought of it before?"

This was also bothering me. Why had neither of us thought of using my real father to bring Serena out of hiding? Because I knew my mother was right. It would bring her to Roswell. If her father died, she would come. She was bound to him as irrevocably as I am bound to my mother. I don’t know how I knew this about her, but I did. Somehow I did. Maybe it was that small part of me that still remembered being a boy hidden under a table and knowing that my sister - the only other child of alien hybrids on this planet - would understand me. And, so, I knew this about her.

If her father died, she would come, seeking revenge. Because it was exactly what I would do if something happened to my mom. She is his, just as I am my mother’s. We are the same.

"Mom?" I said again, more insistently. "I have to know. Why didn’t you ever think of doing this before?"

My mom’s blue eyes filled with tears, and for the first time, I see her fear. "Of course I’ve thought of it, Seanie. But I didn’t want to risk you. You know it’s the last thing I ever want to do."

I frowned. "Why now, then?" I believed her, of course. Which meant that something had happened that had made it absolutely necessary that I deal with my sister sooner rather than later.

"He tried to keep it from me…" She trailed off, turning away. "But Steen…He was so worried, so he went against Khivar’s direct order and told me."

"What?" I demanded, moving towards her. "Mom, what?"

"There has been a message from home," my mother replied, after she had gotten control of herself. "From the soothsayers." She turned her head. Her golden hair, which was still as bright as mid-day, bounced across her shoulders. Her blue eyes were narrowed. "Sean, we’re running out of time."

"When?" Because I understood what she was telling me. It was what we had both dreaded more than anything - the confirmation that the predictions about Khivar’s death were true.

"A week," my mother said, her voice low. "The only father you’ve ever known is destined to die in one week."

I took a minute, allowing the reality of it to absorb. Which meant that when I finally spoke, my voice was clear and strong.

"Then damn destiny."

My mother smiled. "I knew you’d say that." I could hear the pride in her voice, and felt warm. I knew she believed in me, my mom, but sometimes that got lost in the small hurts and misunderstandings that made up our relationship. My mother could be cold, she could be demanding, but when it really counted, we were there for each other.

"You think I’m strong enough now?" I asked. My heart was still pounding at the thought of finally coming face to face with the man who had fathered me, and then abandoned me. He was strong. This I knew. Why did Mom think I could defeat him? And if I couldn’t, who would save Khivar then?

"You’ve always been strong enough," my mother said, her voice a little flat. It made me frown. She saw that and quickly added. "Max Evans is a weakling."

I knew this wasn’t true. If my real father was weak, he wouldn’t have been such a shadow hovering over our lives. And, yet, I believed my mother that I was up to the challenge of meeting him and coming out on top.

But, then, I didn’t quite no how evil he really was then. I didn’t quite understand just how long I had been under Max Evans’ control, or just how willing he was to play dirty.

My mother didn’t either. I truly believe that. I know she didn’t. Because, if she had, she never would have sent me to meet my real father. In fact, if she had understood just how completely Max Evans had the upper hand, I think she would have just surrendered without a fight.

But, the thing is, I think that somewhere deep inside, my mother is still in love with the monster. She was a child when he used her, and she is still something of a child now. She has never quite gotten over what happened between them. She hates him, but I’ve always known that she craves him more. If he had chosen her, our lives would have been very different.

As I said though, we didn’t know the truth then. My mother came to hug me, trying to hide that she was at all worried about me, and neither of us could have known what was coming.

I wouldn’t have been so quick to damn destiny if I had.

***

Serena leaves the grave, walking slowly towards me. She stops about five feet away, eyeing me quizzically. "Sean?"

"Fancy meeting you here." It comes out sounding far more sarcastic than I intend it to. Damn it. This is a graveyard and wryness is entirely inappropriate. I realize that, in spite of what I know has to happen, I want her to understand how angry I am. I want to confront her right now.

In this case, with this much fury, it would seem that revenge is not a dish best served cold. Khivar would be disappointed in me. After all, until yesterday, when my real father finally died, he had waited two lifetimes.

I’ve never been like Khivar though. As much as I’ve tried to be, I’m not. This is not a game I can play. Especially not with her.

I have waited too long for this moment, and my emotions won’t be held in check, and it is all a million times more intense because now it is personal. She made it this way, and she is the one who has determined how bad this has to be.

I’ll just kill her. I don’t have the finesse or the patience to go through with my mother’s plan. It’s impossible. She has to die now. I can’t wait. I can’t.

My hands are itching again. She doesn’t notice though. Because she still doesn’t know I’m on to her and she is all that is normal. She is all that I have ever wanted. And I can’t have her, because she is the farthest thing from normal there is.

Her well-shaped brows come together slightly because she is analyzing my tone. "What are you doing here?" she finally asks carefully.

"Watching you," I reply.

She smiles slightly. It is something I often tell her, because it is something I often do. Until what I found out yesterday - in fact, until ten minutes ago, when I found her at Liz Parker’s grave and knew that everything I had ever believed was a lie - there was nothing I loved more in the world than watching her before she knew I was there. I would marvel at the fact that this beautiful creature really belonged to me, that she loved me. And, then, when she’d eventually become aware of my presence, she’d look back, and smile, her eyes lighting up, and my heart would fill itself with her, and I would love her a little more.

It was all an act. Every little bit of her is a lie. I do not know her at all.

But she still thinks she knows me. She relaxes, not understanding that everything has changed, and this time I am watching her for some sign that this is all a huge mistake. Because, in spite of my rage, I still want it all to be a lie. I want to know that she is not Serena, and I have not been duped for the past two years.

She moves closer, reaching out and gently grabbing the front of my coat, pulling me towards her. "No, really?" she whispers, standing on her toes and pressing a kiss to my cheek. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I’ll always find you," I reply. I close my eyes, unable to stop myself. I breathe her in, almost losing myself in her. It’s embarrassing how easily she manages it.

Eventually, somehow, I remember that this is wrong on so many levels, they are probably uncountable.

Bile rises in my throat, and I pull away, breathing heavily. How? How could she spend two years with me, knowing I am her brother? How could she do it? What kind of monster was she raised to be that it was possible?

I stare at her, willing her to show some sign of it on her face. Something must be there. Something I have missed because I have been too blinded by my need for her. There must be some evidence that she is evil.

But she gazes back at me steadily, her golden eyes as captivatingly innocent as the day I first met her.

***

"Is she here?"

I threw myself into the booth across from Steen. His expression was blank as usual. "Not yet," he replied evenly.

"Typical." I reached a hand up, running it across my head. I was still getting used to the cropped feel of it. My mother almost had a heart attack when she’d seen that I’d finally cut off my white-boy afro, but it was beginning to get embarrassing, all that hair. I was sixteen years old now - too old for golden curls. "How much do you want to bet that she isn’t coming?"

"This is a waste of time," I added, annoyed. We had come to Chicago because one of our spies had found a cell of Zan’s followers holed up here. Apparently one of them was ready to turn traitor and we’d been sent to see if it was true or not. I was pretty sure it wasn’t. My step-father had been in the habit of sending me on wild goose chases with Steen for years. I was betting that if f there was any action to be found, it was back in Roswell.

"No, Lazar," Steen scolded. "Every Antarian who joins our cause is one more who is against Zan. This is never a waste of time."

I rolled my eyes, deciding to humour him and not argue any further. "Are we eating?" I asked, sighing. "I’m starved."

"Sure," Steen said, patient as always. I wished that every once in a while the guy would show how irritated he was to be stuck with me. He was probably as annoyed about it as I was to be with him.

I looked around the restaurant, wondering where the waitress was.

And, it was then that the world stopped turning. Because it was then that I saw her.

And when the Earth started spinning again, what seemed like hours later, my entire life had changed.

She was seated at a small table across from our booth, one hand propping up her chin, staring off into space. Her brown hair was pulled back off her face, emphasizing delicate features, but particularly her large dark eyes. She was quite possibly the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but it wasn’t her looks that captivated me. Instead it was the expression on her face.

She looked so sad, it literally tore my heart in two. I felt it crack right down the centre, and for whatever reason, I knew absolutely that I was going to make it my life’s work to ensure that she never had any reason to be that sad again.

I stood up, almost in a trance. I am not usually a forward person, but it was like I had not control over my body. The next thing I knew, I was seated across from her, and she was staring at me, rather than into space.

"Hi," I said.

She blinked, then smiled slightly, although she sat back in her seat, as though to put distance between us. Because, after all, this was weird. I knew it was weird. But it was like I was outside of myself. I knew absolutely that this was right. That I was supposed to be in this café, on this day, because I was supposed to meet this girl.

"Hi?" It was a question. "Do I know you?"

"No. But I hope you want to," I replied. I grimaced slightly. It sounded like a line. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a line, but it did.

Her brow creased slightly, but she didn’t seem annoyed. She just continued to eye me silently, waiting for me to either convince her, or embarrass myself completely.

"I’m sorry," I said quickly. "I…I mean, that sounded terrible. I’m not trying to pick you up or anything…"

"You’re not?" Her smile widened.

I tried to analyze her tone. She seemed amused now. She didn’t seem threatened, and she certainly didn’t look sad anymore. And, yet, somehow, I knew it was a lie.

I felt my heart start to beat more quickly. If I screwed this up, somehow I knew that it was going to be the biggest regret of my life.

"What’s wrong?" I asked. It was abrupt, and completely the wrong thing to say, because her features shuttered. But I knew that her smile was not a real one. She had been willing to play along with a little flirtation, but that wasn’t what this was about. Not to me.

It was totally the wrong thing to say, because, to my horror, her dark eyes filled with tears.

I didn’t move though. Instead, I reached out, took a few napkins out of the dispenser on the table and handed them to her. I sat patiently while she wiped her eyes. She wasn’t sobbing or anything. It was all done very quietly. And, strangely, it felt like a release. Like she had been waiting for permission to be upset.

Finally, after several long minutes, she looked at me quizzically. "So do you do this all the time? Go around making girls cry?"

"No," I replied quietly. "I won’t ever make you cry. Not on purpose. But if you want to tell me why you needed to cry, I promise to listen."

She stared at me, then smiled again. This time it was real, if small. She said, "Oddly, I want to." She took a sip of the water in front of her. "It’s my dad’s birthday," she said. "I’m just kind of upset that I can’t talk to him."

I didn’t say anything. I mean, what could I say? I couldn’t ask her if he was dead or something. Well, actually, based on how completely inappropriate everything about this conversation had been from the beginning, I probably could. But, I didn’t. Instead I just sat, waiting for her to go on.

"I guess I just miss him," she added. "We used to spend the whole day together on his birthday. I’d make him pancakes in bed, with candles on them, and he’d eat them, even though I’m sure they were disgusting." She smiled, her expression far-away again, as she remembered. "Then we’d do something fun. Usually something fun for me, of course. Because, you know, dads love tea parties." She rolled her eyes, smiling to herself.

"It sounds nice." My family didn’t usually celebrate birthdays. My mom didn’t know hers, because she’d been hatched, of course. Khivar thought it was a stupid human tradition. Mom had thrown some fairly elaborate parties for me when I was small, mainly because she was something of a drama queen, but I had never really wanted them. They hadn’t meant anything to me.

But the girl sitting in front of me spoke about a simple day spent with her father as though it had been the best time in the world. It gave me a pang. I did my best to stay out of my mother’s way most of the time. When she wasn’t smothering me, she was coldly instructing me. No, I didn’t really choose to spend time with my mom. And Khivar never really had time to spend with me.

But this wasn’t about me. It was about this girl. This girl that I felt completely comfortable with. This girl that I wanted to see smile more than anything.

"Is there something I can do?" I asked.

She frowned. "Not really." She paused, then said, "I guess I just needed someone to talk to about him. How did you know that?" She looked at me closely.

"I saw you…" I trailed off. "You looked lonely." I quickly changed the subject. "Do you live with your mom?" Because how could I tell this girl that I had laid eyes on her and known instantly that she was mine. That, somehow, absurdly, I had found her in a café and I knew for a fact that we were meant to be together.

She lowered her gaze. "No," she said quietly. "My mother is dead. She died when I was a baby."

"I’m sorry." I mentally kicked myself again. I still didn’t know why this girl was even giving me the time of day, considering what complete moron I was.

"You didn’t know." She shrugged. "But my dad and I were really close because of it. I miss him," she finished simply.

"I’m sorry," I said. It was all I could think of to say.

But it seemed to work, because she smiled again, and said, "Thanks."

Our eyes met then, and held. For a moment, I felt like I was getting lost. I was completely out of control of this situation and it was unnerving. I hated being out of control. My entire life was out of my hands. Khivar refused to allow me to play a role in his protection, and my mother ordered me around, and now, here I was, staring at a girl I didn’t know, aware that she was about to have as much power over me as both of them.

But I didn’t walk away. I couldn’t.

"I’m Alex, by the way," she said softly, her gaze never leaving mine.

"Sean," I replied.

She blinked then, breaking the connection. "Really?" She sounded disbelieving.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, it’s nothing." She looked mildly embarrassed. "Well, actually…I have a brother named Sean. I guess you just surprised me."

"Oh. That’s weird." There was an awkward pause. I didn’t like it, so I quickly changed the subject again. "I guess Alex is short for something?"

"Alexandra," she replied.

There was another long pause. It was no longer comfortable though. Instead, it was growing into something that I knew would ruin this. I couldn’t allow it.

"I have an idea." I stood up. She eyed me uncertainly. "I’ll be right back."

I went to the counter, glancing at Steen as I passed the booth where he was still sitting. He raised his eyebrows at me. I glared at him, and he smiled slightly, looking away.

A few minutes later, I slid back into the chair across from Alex. I was relieved that she was still there - that she hadn’t taken the chance to make a run for it while I’d been gone.

I set the plate of pancakes I was holding down in front of her. There was a single candle burning on top of them.

She looked at the plate, then back at me. "What’s this?"

"For your dad," I explained. "So you can wish him a happy birthday."

Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she was smiling.

Her gaze never left mine as she leaned over and blew out the candles. She whispered, "Happy birthday, Daddy."

After several long moments, she smiled again and said, "Thank you."

It was all I could do not to say ‘thank you’ back. Because how could I explain to her then what I already knew was destined?

She was going to be mine and I wanted to thank her for existing so that it could be true.

***

"I can’t believe you’re here," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me. "I don’t know how you found out, or even how you knew where to find me, but I’m just so glad." She rests her head against my shoulder. I bring my arms up in spite of myself. It is still my body’s natural reaction - to keep her as close as possible - even though my brain knows that it is completely wrong.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at me, her expression serious. "Are you angry?"

"Angry?" I ask, frowning slightly. Does she actually know that I know? How can she know?

"That I lied to you," she elaborates. "About my dad being dead."

I swallow, glancing towards the grave-stone she had been staring at when I’d come into the cemetery. Of course it’s why she’s here. She is burying him with her mother. Why this hasn’t crossed my mind before, I’m not sure, but it hasn’t.

It sends a shiver down my spine.

"You didn’t," I admit. I look back at her. Because this, at least, is true. She never told me flat out that her father was dead. That our father was dead.

"But I know you thought he was," she explains. "I should have told you. But it was just so complicated…" She trails off, her voice breaking slightly. She hugs me again. "I wish you could have met him. He would have loved you."

I stare past her, no longer seeing the cemetery at all. No longer seeing her. Because I am seeing him. I am seeing the expression on his face when he first saw me yesterday. I am remembering how good an actor he was. He seemed shocked. He actually seemed surprised to recognize me.

Because, of course he did. We had met before, hadn’t we? But, still, I was amazed that he was so good at pretending that he wasn’t expecting me of all people.

I wasn’t nearly as good at any of it. Pretense is not my strength. I didn’t hide my fury from him. He learned first hand that he had chosen the wrong path with me. That maybe, if he’d just tried to kill me, I could have understood. But what he had done…making me fall in love with my own sister…that I could never understand. Or forgive.

"I’m not angry," I tell Serena now. "You never told me he was dead. I never thought he was."

She displays surprise. "You didn’t? I don’t get it."

"I met him once," I say quietly. "Last year."

"What?" She steps back, a frown on her face. "You did? How?"

"He wanted to meet me." I look back towards the grave marker. Of course, now I know why. At the time I thought it was because he wanted to make sure that I was worthy of his daughter. But now I know the truth. What he really wanted was to make sure that she was doing her job. That she had made me fall in love with her.

He left Chicago knowing with absolute certainty that she had. He left without me ever knowing that I had just met my own father.

Serena is staring at me, her expression a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. "I can’t believe you never told me!" she finally exclaims. Then, because the curiosity is stronger, she asks, "What did you talk about?"

"Not much." I pause, then add quietly, "He thanked me for taking care of you."

She rolls her eyes, as any daughter would, hearing about an over-protective father. But I can see that she’s really pleased. "I wish I could have seen him," she eventually whispers. "We wasted so much time." She leans her forehead against my chest. "I really wish you’d told me."

I can’t help myself. I bring my hand up and stroke her soft hair.

"Me too," I say under my breath, but I mean something completely different then she does.

I know this is the last time I will ever hold her in my arms, and I can’t help it. For just a moment, for that one second, I allow myself to feel again everything I feel for her.

"I’m so glad you’re here," she says again, as she pulls back. "But…Can you understand that I need to be by myself for a while?" She thinks that I’m going to protest, because she adds quickly, "Just for a few minutes. Can you go back to town and meet me at my grandparents’?"

"Is that where you’re staying?" I ask, knowing already that she is. It doesn’t matter though. I won’t be meeting her there or anywhere. I now have what I need. If I could have done any of this without ever seeing her again, I would have. Trust me. Because this is just too hard.

I am not like my father. I am not like her. I am no actor. These have been the hardest ten minutes of my life.

But there was no choice. Now it is done though and I can go.

"Yeah," she says. "With my mom’s parents. They own a restaurant called the Crashdown. They live above it." She smiles, but it doesn’t erase her sadness. "Kind of dumb, I know, especially in Roswell."

I kiss her lightly on the forehead. "I’ll see you there."

I walk away from the graveyard, not looking back. Because I know that this is the last time I will ever see her, and I am just glad that it is over.

It is over, I have survived it, and she is none the wiser.

When I get into the car beside my mother, she glances over from where she is seated behind the wheel.

"Did you get it?" she asks, her tone emotionless. She knows this was hard for me and she knows better than to ask if I’m all right.

"I got it," I say. I reach into my pocket and pull out the gold chain. The piece of crystal at the end catches the last sun-rays of the day, almost blinding me.

"She doesn’t know you took it?"

"No," I reply, returning it to my pocket and looking straight ahead. "Let’s go."

My mother reaches out and gently touches my shoulder. "I’m sorry, Seanie."

"I’m not," I snap, flinching away. "It’s over."

"Not quite yet," my mother soothes, starting the car and pulling out onto the highway. "But it will be soon."

We head straight for the pod chamber.

Wow! Sean is some piece of work. Tess has managed to manipulate him beyond any saving grace. I cannot believe how much he hated Max. And your description of Tess and her catlike blue eyes was so fitting. She didn't even greet Sean because it was all business. Sent a shiver down my spine for sure.

My heart aches for Serena...

AN - Hey everyone! Thanks for your patience!

Kath

Part 4 - ~Serena~ Perfect Girl

Am I faithful, am I strong, am I good enough to belong?
In your reverie a perfect girl.
Your vision of romance is cruel and all along I played the fool,
All your expectations bury me.

Don’t worry, you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don’t forgo knowing that you’re loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time.

I own my insecurities, I try to own my destiny
I can make or break it if I choose.
But you take my words and twist them ‘round
Til I’m the one who brings you down
Make me feel like I’m the one to blame for all this…

Don’t worry, you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don’t forgo knowing that you’re loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time.

You need everybody with you on your side.
Know that I am here for you, but I hope in time
You’ll find yourself alright alone
You’ll find yourself with open arms
You’ll find yourself, you’ll find yourself in time.

The riot in my heart decides to keep me open and alive,
I have to take myself away from you.
‘Cause I can’t compete, I can’t deny there’s nothing that I wouldn’t try
How did I go wrong in loving you?

Don’t worry, you will find the answer if you let it go
Give yourself some time to falter
But don’t forgo that you’re loved no matter what
And everything will come around in time.

Sarah McLachlan

"We meet at last, little princess."

I am still kneeling in front of my mother’s gravestone when the voice comes from behind me, sending a chill down my spine. I have been expecting him, but the fear comes anyway, fast and sharp.

And, yet, there is relief too. Relief that I have gotten Sean away from here in time, and relief that it is all finally coming to an end. Relief that, when this confrontation is over, I will be able to join my boyfriend at the Crashdown, and no one else I love will be in danger ever again.

They are all waiting for me there - Sean, and Ava, and Maria, and my Uncle Jim and Aunt Amy, and my Grandpa Evans, and Grandad and Grandma Parker. And, soon - very soon - they will finally be safe.

I was too late to save my father, but I will not be too late to save all of them. I absolutely refuse to be. I can no longer run from him. I know he will make me bury them one by one, until I face him. I can’t allow that.

And, so, I have come to Roswell to bury my father, to find out what the monster wants from me, and then I will kill him.

Just like he killed my Aunt Izzy, and just like he killed my dad, I will kill him, and this will all end.

I have finally understand what all of this is about. It is not about Khivar wanting to find me. It has always been about me finding Khivar. Running away to prevent it has not stopped my destiny. He killed my family anyway. I have prevented nothing. And I now know that I have to accept it.

Just like my father was never meant to be a killer, but was made one by this man’s hatred for him, I have always been destined to kill this man. It has taken me the time since Aunt Izzy’s death to understand this. Running away to protect the rest of them was a mistake. I wasted four precious years with the people I most love.

I will not waste another moment. Khivar is going down. Now.

I close my eyes briefly, touching the ground where I have just laid my father’s ashes to rest. "For you," I whisper. Because this is for my dad. And for Aunt Izzy. Because, in the end, they are the only two who were directly killed by Khivar. My mother, and Kyle, and Alex, and my Grandma Evans were pawns to him, not worth his time. They were murdered by his minions. But it was definitely Khivar who was responsible for what happened to my father and his sister.

And, so, not only is what I am about to do to protect my remaining loved ones, it is also to avenge the loss of the two people, apart from my mother, I would have killed to have back.

It is too late for that now. But it is not too late to make sure that what happened to them never happens to another person I love.

***

When I was fourteen, my Aunt Izzy killed herself. We were living in New York at the time, on the upper floor of a high-rise and, one night, out of nowhere, my aunt - still young and beautiful and with far too much to live for - went out onto the balcony of the apartment we shared and threw herself off of it.

No one knew anything about it, even though we were all home, until the police came to our door an hour or so after it happened. My dad and I were in the kitchen making Tabasco and hot fudge sundaes. I was even making one for Aunt Izzy, because she had promised that she would watch the old movie Vacation with Dad and me. I had never seen it before, but my dad and Aunt Izzy talked about it all the time. It reminded them of some of the vacations they had taken with their adoptive parents when they were little, and they both loved it.

It was Ava who answered the door and it was Ava who came to tell us. The instant she walked into the kitchen, we both knew that something horrible had happened, even before the two police officers followed her into the room. I had never seen that expression on her face before. She was just completely blank, and could barely manage to say anything.

When she opened her mouth, all that came out was, "Isabel."

My heart started to thunder in my chest, dreading what we were about to hear. I glanced at my father, who was still standing next to me at the counter. It was his hands that captured my attention. They were clenched around the edge of the countertop, so hard that his knuckles were turning white. But, when he spoke, his voice was completely controlled.

"Serena, go to your room."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Daddy, please!"

"Serena…" His tone brooked no opposition. I rarely heard that edge from him, but I knew that to argue at this point would only make things worse, so I went.

"Will you come tell me what happened?" I asked Ava softly as I passed her. She met my eyes. Strangely, it was in that horrible moment that I realized for the first time that I was actually as tall as she was, because our eye-level was dead even. When had that happened? Sure, Ava was short, but she had always been taller than me. It’s odd the things we notice at terrible times, and even more strange that those insignificant details are sometimes what we most remember.

She nodded slightly, but I think I knew even then that I wasn’t going to know the whole truth. She did come to my room eventually. She and Maria came together and told me that my aunt had had too much to drink, and had fallen to her death because of it. I knew that it was a lie. After all, my dad, and my aunt, and Ava never drank. I didn’t really know why, but I did know that.

I remember feeling extremely angry that they weren’t going to tell me the truth. I knew that Aunt Izzy’s death had something to do with me. I pretended that I believed them though. But, in my heart, I knew that I was going to find out what had really happened, no matter what.

The police took a long time to leave. In fact, they were around for several weeks after my aunt’s death, not entirely convinced that Aunt Izzy had not been pushed off that balcony. Because of it, they kept a close eye on us.

In the end, it was probably what saved us, that they did that. It kept Khivar away long enough for my father and the others to plan an even more complete disappearance than they ever had before. It also gave me time to find out what really happened. Because, if we had left right away, I never would have had time to find Aunt Izzy’s note. My Aunt Izzy was smart. She didn’t make it easy for us to find it. And she also put it in the one place she was probably sure I, in particular, would never find it.

After all, she knew very well I had gone nowhere near my mother’s possessions since the horrible day my father had almost killed me.

Even in death, she was still trying to protect me.

In spite of Aunt Izzy and Maria’s vow when I was twelve, that they would try not to keep secrets from me anymore, it still happened. I know that my dad still wanted to see me as a little girl. That incident in the closet haunted him, I think, and, for some reason, after it happened, he was even more determined that I lead as normal a life as possible. He couldn’t ever even bring himself to talk to me about what had happened that day. I think he had scared himself even more than he scared me, and when, after my talk with Maria and Aunt Izzy, I went out to the backyard and just hugged him, he pretended that it never happened. He didn’t forget, but he wanted me to. To him, I was still a child, and I still knew nothing, and that was the way he wanted it to stay.

I didn’t know everything I should because of him and his absolute need to protect me, and, because he was my father, and he was the leader, even if they didn’t necessarily agree with it, Aunt Izzy, and Maria, and Ava went along with it. Mainly, I think, because they couldn’t bear for me to know how in jeopardy my life was each and every day. I just wish that they could have accepted that, because of who I am, it was all pointless. They couldn’t protect me forever. And, so, they actually were making things worse by hiding the truth from me.

Looking back on it, I can’t blame my dad, or my surrogate mothers. After all, they knew what happened to people who knew too much. My mother, and Alex, and Kyle had all been killed because they knew things that maybe they never should have. But, I just wish that they could have accepted that my destiny was unavoidable. I was going to meet up with Khivar one day, no matter what they did to stop it. No matter what extremes they went to in order to prevent it.

But, then, how could my dad not believe that he could control destiny? Didn’t my very existence mean that he had flouted his own at every turn?

And, because he had been successful once, he thought he could control it again. They all did. To the point where my beloved aunt actually took her own life to make sure that what was supposed to happen wouldn’t.

***

I climb to my feet, finally turning to meet the monster face-to-face. I am not surprised to see that he is very good-looking. Tall, blonde, with dark, piercing eyes that see right through me. He is also far younger than one would expect of an alien of his age. My eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, and he notices.

"I see that I am not quite what you expected," he says, his tone smooth. It’s obvious he’s going for charm, and it makes me want to vomit. "I know that for humanity, good looks give one an advantage. I see that I chose my skin wisely." His gaze rakes me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. "I understand that your mother was quite lovely," he continues. "I see that she has passed that on."

Heat rises in my cheeks, because I cannot deny that I do find him attractive, at least physically. I am sure that he has made sure that this is so, in order to gain an advantage over me. Unfortunately for him though, although he really is gorgeous, everything else about him is repellent. The cocky confidence he exudes is so far from what I find worth loving in Sean, it almost makes me want to laugh.

"My mother was beautiful," I acknowledge flatly. I feel slightly disoriented. Am I really standing here discussing my looks with the person who killed my father? I want to bring the conversation back where it belongs, so I add, "But most people say I take after my father."

His eyes narrow slightly. "Pity that I never met either of them," he replies. "So I cannot dispute that argument."

I stare at him, not saying anything. Because I know that he murdered my father, and his pretending to never have even seen him angers me almost to the point of snapping. But I can’t lose control of this situation. I must find out exactly what he wants from me. It is absolutely necessary that I know before he dies, so that I can make sure that it never happens, even by accident, after I kill him.

He won’t win, ever - even in death.

"What do you want?" I demand, when I can finally speak without my rage being obvious.

There is a long pause. He smiles slightly. For a moment, I think he isn’t going to answer. When he finally does, what he says does not surprise me. Not at all. Because, of course, I have known all along. My entire family knew, it shaped their entire lives - and, in some cases, their deaths -, and to finally have him confirm it is almost a relief.

"Why, you, of course."

***

"Dad, can I pack Mom’s things?"

My father looked up. He and Maria were packing up Aunt Izzy’s bedroom, and he had paused to leaf through one of Aunt Izzy’s many photo albums. The expression on his face when he looked at me was blank, just as it had been since the day of Aunt Izzy’s death.

There was a long pause as he considered my request. I had never asked before because, even as a kid, I knew that one of the ways my dad held onto my mother’s memory was by maintaining control of the few things of hers that were left after our many moves.

He looked around Aunt Izzy’s room, sighing, before replying, "Okay, sweetheart." I think, in his heart, my dad knew that this move had to be about Aunt Izzy, and not about my mother, and so he was willing to let go of the control just once.

I sighed in relief. I had not been anywhere near my mother’s possessions since the horrible afternoon in the closet when I was twelve. The fact that my dad had agreed meant that he was finally managing to let that day go. He, of course, never told me not to touch them - my dad would never have done that to me - but there had been an unspoken agreement between us since that I wouldn’t.

The relief, however, wasn’t about the fact that I was finally going to be able to commune with my mother’s spirit again. Rather, it was because of a song I had heard on the radio that day while packing up my own room. It was Dido, one of my mother’s favorite singers. The song was a newer single, one my mom never would have known, but it reminded me of her stuff, including her Dido CD, which I hadn’t listened to in years. It also reminded me of one of Dido’s songs in particular, because, of course, I had my Aunt Izzy constantly on my mind at that time.

Isobel.

The instant the song crossed my mind - that haunting song about the loss of a girl named Isobel - I felt a shiver descend my spine. To this day, I choose to believe that it was my mother, reaching out to me, helping me to embrace my destiny, even though my aunt, and my father, and everyone else, were doing everything in their power to stop me.

When I found the CD, the note was tucked into the CD case. Waiting for me. Waiting to change my entire life.

Max,

Khivar is here, on Earth. He has been in my dreams for weeks now. I have been trying to control it, but I know now that he is too strong for me. He is using me to find Serena. Not only that, but he wants me to join with him. The worst part is, somewhere deep inside, in my darkest places, I want to. He is making me turn again.

I’ve tried to tell you, so many times, but I was too scared, because I knew what would have to happen. We would have to split up, and I can’t bear that. I can’t bear the idea of being all alone. My entire life has been dedicated to helping you raise Serena, and I just can’t let her go. I’m not strong enough. But I also know that I won’t allow Khivar to use me to get to her. I also won’t betray you again. I refuse. This leaves me with few options. There is only one thing left for me to do.

I’m sorry. Please tell everyone that I love them. Tell Serena in particular. She has been the one thing that has held me together through this hellish existence. Without her, I think that I would have joined Alex a long time ago.

Don’t mourn me. I know that this is what is meant to be. I am going to be with Mom, with Michael, and with Alex, and it’s where I belong. It’s where I’ve always belonged.

Love Izzy

There were tears in my eyes when I finished reading that note. My Aunt Izzy had sacrificed her very life to save mine. Just like my mother, and my grandmother, and Michael before her. And she had not wanted me to know. She wanted her sacrifice to remain a secret.

But it couldn’t. A house full of secrets, as ours was all through my childhood, is not a good thing. Which is why I believe that it could only have been my mom who directed me to that closet again. I needed to know just how dangerous I was to my family.

And, so, just as Aunt Izzy had found herself in an impossible situation, with only one choice, so did I.

The next night I left.

***

"Like you wanted my Aunt Isabel?" I demand, my anger kindling again.

"Yes," he replies, pretending to be sad. "Poor Vilandra. She was not strong enough to accept what I offered her."

"You drove her to her death!"

He does not deny it. Instead he says, "I regret it."

"As if," I snap.

His eyes narrow again, but he shrugs, pretending he is not annoyed, "Believe what you will, little one, but I did love your aunt. It is unfortunate that she chose loyalty to her worthless brother over the great love we once shared."

"You used my aunt," I reply firmly. "She was strong. She refused to allow you to do it again."

"She was weak," he replies, equally as firm. "Our union would have healed the wounds between our people. She could not see that though."

"Nothing would heal what you’ve done to my family," I tell him. Except your death, I think to myself. But I don’t say it. Not yet.

"I have done nothing," Khivar says. "It is your family’s refusal to see sense that has brought about their downfall."

"You must be joking. Your people have killed my mother, and so many members of my family, I can’t even bear to think about it. Everything my family has done has been to survive."

There is a long pause. Khivar tilts his head, sighing. Finally, he says, as though he has not wanted to, but has no choice now, "That is not true, princess. And you know it. All of this chaos has been for one reason alone. Your father’s determination to seek revenge on the one person who bested him."

"What?" Because I really am curious to see what absurdity he is about to come up with next.

"Revenge on his son’s mother, of course," he replies smoothly. "For taking your brother away."

"That is not true!" I exclaim. "My father wanted to find Sean, but that doesn’t excuse what has happened to my family!"

"Anyone who has died has died to keep your father away from your brother," Khivar snaps back. "Max Evans’ obsession with the boy is what killed your mother, and your aunt, and everyone else you love."

"That is crazy," I say, disbelieving that he really thinks he can blame what has happened to my family on my dad. There is no doubt in my mind, that even if Tess hadn’t stolen my brother away, Khivar and his minions still would have come after us. "You just told me yourself that it’s me you want. I think you’re getting mixed up, old man." His human nostrils flare at that, because I have refused to accept what I am seeing at face value. I know that he is old, and he is fading, and his time is passing, and he knows it too. And it’s time he admits it.

His voice is still controlled though, when he says, "Do you know why your father was in Roswell?"

"Yes!" I snap. "Tess lied to him and told him that my brother would be here. That he wanted to meet him. But, instead, he met you, and you killed him."

"Well, that is true to a degree," Khivar admits. "However, I was not the one who killed your father. You did, little one."

"Pardon me?" I gape at him. This man is a lunatic. Not only is the mere idea of me killing my father absurd, I wasn’t even in Roswell when he died.

"Your brother was in Roswell, after all. In fact, he still is."

"I don’t understand." Because I don’t. Or maybe I’m beginning to, and I really, really don’t want to know.

"When he learned the truth, that his beloved has been lying to him for years, he couldn’t control himself."

"What are you even talking about?" I demand. I know he is manipulating me. That I should just walk up to him and burn a hole right through him, but I am curious. I can’t help it. I need to know how far he thinks he can take this bald-faced lie. "Are you trying to tell me that my father killed himself? That’s crazy! I never lied to him about anything."

"You cannot tell me that you don’t know. You are being deliberately obtuse," Khivar says, shaking his head, amused. "Of course, you know, little one. Why else would you have gone by a false name all this time? Why else would you have lied to him about your father being alive? You’ve known all along. You were the one who sought him out, the one who called him to Chicago with your presence there. You planned all of this. And it is what has told me that you are meant to be mine. You are cold, and you are ruthless, and you are my perfect match."

His smarmy grin sends another shiver down my spine, but I thrust my disgust at his strange romantic overtures aside.

"What - are - you - talking - about?" I ask again, this time through gritted teeth.

"Stop your games, Serena. We both know that you know what I’m talking about. And we both know that it is why your father had to die. That you are responsible for it, because you lied to the one who most trusted you."

My heart is thundering in my chest. Because I realize that this is going to be bad. And I don’t really want to know. Because, abruptly, I understand that he is no longer talking about my father. This is all about my brother.

It has always been about my brother.

I swallow, closing my eyes, although I think that, somewhere inside, maybe I have always known. And, if this is true, then Khivar is right. I killed my own father. "Tell me," I say quietly.

"Tell you what you already know?" Khivar asks, still amused.

"Yes," I say. "Please."

"Very well, little one. You cannot pretend that you have not known, because no one of your abilities could be so stupid. But I will humour you. It is about the fact that your brother and your lover are one and the same, of course."

His name crossing Khivar’s lips is like a shot to my heart. Because, he is right. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, it is true. What other explanation is there for why Sean is in Roswell? He is not here for me. Not at all.

I want Khivar to stop talking. I know the truth, but I don’t want to hear it from him. I can’t bear to hear it from him. But he keeps talking anyway. Because I asked him to.

"It is about the fact that you have been living in sin with your very own brother for close to two years, and there is no possible way you could not have known it."

Hi everyone!

Just a little update on this fic. I have literally had NO time to work on it. Real life has been insane lately, and with my duties admining around here, that's pretty much all the time I have to dedicate to fanfic. As most of you know though, I will soon be on summer holidays, and when that happens, one of my main goals will be to finish this. It is all planned out, so it should be too big of a problem. In the meantime, it means a lot that it is not forgotten, as demonstrated by its nomination in Round 7. So thank you for that, and thanks for your patience!

Love Kath



Favorite Use of a Supporting Character - Sean Deluca (for the Sins of the Father trilogy)

AN - Well, yes, it's finally true! A new part! And the pivotal one at that. Do you want to know what happened to Max? Now you will.

This part might be a bit confusing. It was hard to get across Sean's confusion and anger and sadness...and basically just how screw up he really is. I hope that it makes some modicum of sense. I really have been working on this part for months. I hope I haven't over-worked it at this point.

Last, but certainly not least, this part is dedicated to cherie. I miss you, dear friend, and I wish that you were here to read this. One of my deepest regrets is that I never finished this story in time for you to read it.

Part 5 ~Sean~ Time

Time here, all but means nothing,
Just shadows that move across the wall,
They keep me company, but they don’t ask of me
They don’t say nothing at all.
And I need just a little more silence,
And I need just a little more time.
But you send your thieves to me,
Silently stalking me,
Dragging me into your war.
Would you give me no choice in this?
I know you can’t resist, trying to reopen a sore.

Leave me be, I don’t want to argue,
I’d just get confused and I’d come all undone.
If I agree, well, it’s just to appease you,
‘Cause I don’t remember what we’re fighting for.

You see love – a tight, thorny thread that you spin in a circle of gold.
You have me to hold me,
A token for all to see,
Captured to be yours alone.
And I need just a little more silence,
And I just need a little more time.
The courage to pull away,
There will be hell to pay,
The deeper you cut to the bone.

Leave me be, I don’t want to argue,
I’d just get confused and I’d come all undone,
If I agree, well, it’s just to appease you,
‘Cause I don’t remember what we’re fighting for.

Time here, all but means nothing,
Just shadows that move across the wall.
They keep me company,
But they don’t ask of me,
They don’t say nothing at all.

Leave me be, I don’t want to argue,
I’d just get confused and I’d come all undone,
If I agree, well, it’s just to appease you,
‘Cause I don’t remember what we’re fighting for.

Sarah McLachlan

I have never been in the pod chamber before. I have always wanted to come, but my mother refused to bring me, saying that the memories were too hard for her. This fact, however, does not make me any more interested as my mother waves her hand across the rock face. I watch dully as a silver hand-print appears. It has become fully dark since I left Serena at the graveyard, and the hand-print gleams into the night, but even its strange beauty does not stir a shred of emotion.

It is all gone. Every emotion, every bit of it. I don’t feel a thing. Even my anger is gone. Instead, I am numb. I have forced my rage away. I have banked it ruthlessly, with heavy coals of determination. I know it is the only way I will survive what is to come. Anger will only distract me. It will distract me in the same way love has done for the past two years.

I need to be focused. I cannot allow emotion of any sort to interfere. Emotion is over. All that is left is ending this - permanently - so that it can stay over. So that the pain won’t return.

The rock face slides away in a way that should be impressive, but now just seems slow. I want this done. I want to be gone, so that she will be gone, and eventually it will be like none of this has ever happened.

If all goes according plan it won’t even be like none of it has happened. None of it will happen. Instead, I am going to fix things so that what was supposed to be finally will. My enemy will never exist, my mother’s enemy will cease to be a factor, and, eventually, another version of both of us will live the lives we were supposed to have.

As I follow my mother into the cave of her birth, I feel the first stirrings of curiosity. It is not so much interest, but, rather, reflection. As my vision adjusts to the dull glow cast by the infamous pods, I wonder how things might have differed had my mother not been left behind. Would my father have even looked twice at Liz Parker?

I lick my lips, narrowing my eyes, thinking. Maybe I should go back even further. Maybe I need to go back to the day that changed everything, - when my father, and Isabel, and Michael emerged from their pods early, and chose to leave without my mom - so that this time there is no mistake. If they grew up together, then surely they would end up together.

But Michael and Isabel grew up together, and they found other people, a small voice in the back of my head reminds me.

The thought that my parents could end up viewing each other as siblings sends a shiver down my spine.

Interesting.

In spite of my present lack of anything resembling a will to live, - because doing what I am about to do is basically suicide after all - apparently I do still want to exist in some form. And Mom and my dearly departed father viewing each other as sister and brother probably wouldn’t be the most efficient way to ensure that happens.

No, it has to be later. Mom is right. I need to trust her. She knows what happened back then. She knows exactly when the right time will be to strike.

"Are you coming, Seanie?" Mom asks. She is already on her knees, preparing to crawl through one of the bottom pods. When she stares back at me, her concern is obvious.

She is scared that I am going to back out. That I won’t use what I got from Serena to do what has to be done.

I won’t back out. Maybe I want to exist, but I don’t want to exist like this. Empty and dead inside. Not when I know what it’s like to really live. Because, in spite of the fact that it has all now been revealed as a big lie, the two years I spent with Alex were still the only two years that meant anything to me. I want that back. I have known love. I have known what it is like to feel a connection so strongly, you know yourself better because you see yourself through someone else’s eyes. It might have all been a lie, but it didn’t feel like a lie, and I guess, in my heart, I still know it doesn’t have to be a lie.

Next time, it won’t be. Because, next time, it won’t be with my sister. Because, next time, my sister will not exist. Which means more than just finding someone else.

It also means that, next time, our father will belong to me.

And, in spite of everything - in spite of what I know he was, which was a monster - I won’t lie to myself any longer. Because, in the end, it is what I want most of all.

***

I first met him on a Monday morning. I was standing in the window of the apartment Alex and I shared, drinking a cup of coffee and thinking about crawling back into bed. Alex was still there, curled up on her pillow, and I was smiling to myself at the thought of waking her up. We had been living together for a month now, and every day convinced me even more that I had somehow managed to stumble into my real life without even trying.

Civil wars on other planets. Toppled kings. Missing fathers. It all seemed very distant when I was with Alex. She made me happy, and none of that mattered anymore. I knew that my mother wasn’t very happy when Steen left me in Chicago, but he couldn’t convince me to return to Roswell with him. Not after I’d met her. Eventually my mother accepted it. She talked about coming up to meet Alex, but had yet to show. I didn’t particularly want her to. I loved my mother, but she didn’t belong in the new world I had created for myself. All that other stuff was too wrapped up in her. I wanted nothing to do with any of it, ever again.

However, pretending that it had all gone away - that I was no longer Lazar Shonen rid Zan - didn’t mean that I wasn’t still careful. That I didn’t still have my eyes peeled for danger at all times. I noticed anything that seemed out of the ordinary and, as I stared out the window, I took notice of the man standing in the doorway across the street.

He didn’t look particularly suspicious. He was tall, dark-haired, and he was nicely dressed - like he was on his way to the office or a meeting. He had a newspaper under his arm, and was maybe waiting for a cab, but something about him caught my attention. Something about him seemed….familiar was the only word.

Maybe I’d seen him on the street before. It, of course, made sense. How many times do we pass strangers we see every day? But I’ve never not noticed strangers. Self-preservation made it a necessity. Being who I am, my first instinct has always been caution. This could be an assassin, sent by Max Evans. Every stranger I passed on the street could be. And, yet, I didn’t feel afraid. When my mother and I had run in the past, I had always felt danger approaching. I was the one who always knew when my father was coming for us, and I was the one who always sounded the alarm. I could feel him. Feel the danger that he brought, even when he wasn’t the one bringing it - even when he sent someone else.

I felt none of that with this man. And, yet, still, I knew him.

It was as I was staring down at him, trying to figure out how I knew him, that he looked up at the window. He looked directly at me. He knew I was watching him. We stared at each other for a long moment. I stared as he pulled something out of his pocket. As he fiddled with it, then put it to his ear, I realized it was a cellular phone.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone sitting on the bedside table rang. As I turned to look at it, my eyes lit on the picture frame sitting beside it.

I blinked, then looked back down at the man.

Of course I knew him. I had looked at his picture every single day since I’d moved in with my girlfriend.

The man standing down on the street was Alex’s dead father.

I watched Alex stir on the bed. The phone was still ringing and it was disturbing her. I picked it up quickly, then moved back to the window. He was still down there, watching me.

"Hello?" I whispered.

"Can you come down?" I could see the man below talking into his phone, and I knew it was him on the other end of my line.

"Why don’t you come up?" I said quietly. "I know who you are."

"She can’t know I’m here."

I scowled. What the hell? "Why?"

There was a long pause. "She won’t want to see me," he finally said. His tone was even. I couldn’t tell if this fact upset him or not. But I also knew it was untrue. I knew, better than anyone, how much my girlfriend missed her father.

I glanced back at her. She had burrowed under the duvet, and had not stirred again. I briefly considered waking her. I knew with absolute certainty that she would be thrilled to see her dad…and, yet…

She had never told me he was dead, but she had implied as much. Something very strange was going on here, and I didn’t want to bring Alex into it until I knew what.

"Meet me at the café on the corner," I said. "I’ll be there in ten minutes."

"Fine."

With that, he clicked off. When I looked out the window again, not two seconds later, he was already gone.

I dressed quickly. I wrote Alex a fast note, telling her that I’d gone out to get breakfast. I left it on the bathroom door, knowing that it would be the first place she’d head upon waking. The last thing I wanted was for her to wake to an empty apartment. I had made it my life’s goal to ensure that she never felt alone again. I always made sure she knew where I was, and when I’d be back.

Looking back on it, I now know that I did that more for my own benefit than for hers. So that she’d do the same. Because I needed to know where she was all the time. Unless I knew, I couldn’t be sure that she was safe. That someone hadn’t come to steal her away from me. That my biological father hadn’t kidnapped her to get to me.

Trust me. The irony of this does not escape me now.

Anyway, I was seated across from him ten minutes later. He had ordered two coffees, but he didn’t touch his. Instead he kept his dark eyes on me as I doctored mine with plenty of sugar. I hadn’t inherited my mother’s disgusting habit of putting Tabasco into everything, but I did like things a little sweeter than most people, just like she did.

As I sipped the hot brew, I tried to pretend that nothing about the situation was odd. That it wasn’t strange at all to be sitting at a table across from my girlfriend’s supposedly dead father.

"I’m Sean," I finally said, sitting back after taking a long gulp of the hot beverage.

There was a slight flicker in his eyes. "It’s nice to finally meet you, Sean," he said quietly.

"Finally?" I asked suspiciously.

He didn’t reply. All he said was, "I thought it was about time."

There was a long pause. I didn’t quite know what to say to that. The implication was that he had known about me for a while. What did that mean, exactly?

"Why wouldn’t you come up?" I finally asked. "You have to know that she misses you."

"I know," he said simply. "But she chose this. It’s not my place to interfere with what she wants. She needs to choose her own life."

"She chose not to see you?" I demanded, even more suspicious. "Why?"

"It’s a long story," he replied. "If she hasn’t told you, it’s not my place to do so."

"That’s not fair," I snapped. "I want to take care of her. How can I, if I don’t know everything?"

He smiled slightly. "You do want to take care of her, don’t you?" He let out a long breath. "I thought you could be trusted, but I just needed…" he trailed off, sighing. "I should go."

I stared at him in amazement as he stood up. He was halfway to the door before I caught him. When I grabbed his arm, he turned, raising his eyebrows in a way that so reminded me of Alex, it sent a shiver down my spine. "How can you just leave?" I demanded.

"I know she’s safe," he said. "I just had to be sure."

"But, if you don’t want to interfere, you shouldn’t be here at all," I said. "It’s not fair to her, you know. That you can see her, but she can’t see you. She’ll want to see you!"

"When she wants that, she’ll find me," he said. "We will see each other again." He paused, then added, "Thank you for taking care of my daughter."

And, with that, he walked out of the café. When I rushed out into the street, determined to try and convince him once more, he had disappeared again.

***

That turned out to be the second time my real father walked out of my life. There would not be a third. Our third meeting was entirely different. During our third meeting… well, let’s just say it changed everything.

For a moment, I feel sick to my stomach. I know that there had been no choice, but…

"Sean! I’m waiting!"

I shake my head, bringing my thoughts back to the present. I get down on my knees and crawl through one of the pods. When I get back to my feet on the other side, my mother has her hand out.

"Give it to me."

I reach into my pocket, pulling out the gold chain. The crystal shard gleams strangely, as though it is waking up.

I look around at the silver walls of the granolith chamber. The spaceship that once rested here is long gone, but this is still the best place to accomplish our goal. This is still the place where the granolith will be most powerful.

For that is what I hold in my hand. It is a piece of the most powerful item from my parents’ home world of Antar. And it is with this that I will go back in time and fix everything that my enemies have broken.

My mother takes the necklace from me. She holds the chain out, letting the granolith shard dangle in front of her face. "How odd to think that little Serena had this all along," she says. "We’ve been looking for you for years," she adds, talking to the crystal.

I sigh at my mother’s dramatics. "Mom."

Mom glances at me. "Sorry, darling." She lowers the chain, carefully separating it from the crystal. Then, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out two more pieces. She drops to her knees, placing the three crystal sections together on the ground, as though assembling a puzzle. She sits back on her heels, sighing with satisfaction.

It doesn’t faze me when the three pieces fuse together with a bright flash. Nothing alien does. I’ve been around it my whole life, after all.

My mom looks up at me. "Once we do this, my love, there is no turning back. Are you sure?"

I close my eyes briefly. Alex’s - dammit! Her name is Serena! I need to get this fact through my thick skull! - face is the only thing I can see. I know that it will continue to be the only thing I see, until the end of time.

This time has to end. It cannot exist. I cannot allow her to exist.

If I do this, my father will be mine again. And not in the sick, twisted way he belongs to me now.

"I’m sure," I reply. I open my eyes, meeting hers firmly. "Do it."

Because if this world disappears - the one with Serena in it - if she never exists, neither will a world in which I have killed my own father.

***

"You’re sure that Khivar has no idea about this?" I asked Steen as we drove across the desert towards the meeting spot. I knew Khivar didn’t know that we had drawn Max Evans back to Roswell with the temptation of finally getting his hands on me. But I wanted to talk. I could admit to myself that I was nervous, and I didn’t like the idea of sitting in silence any longer.

I knew it was absurd, but…I wanted to impress him. I wanted Max Evans to know that I had survived - and thrived - without him. That him abandoning me had been the best thing that had ever happened to me.

"I’m sure," Steen replies grimly. "It’s what your mother wanted."

I frowned slightly. He seemed more dour than usual. "You don’t think this is a good idea?"

"I didn’t say that."

"What then?" I prod. "You seem…I don’t know. Weird." And I realized, now that I wasn’t focusing on my own inner turmoil, that he did.

There was a long pause. Then, much to my surprise, he spoke, which was completely out of character. If there was one word to describe Steen usually, it was ‘reticent.’ "I don’t understand why your mother didn’t come."

I swallowed, glancing out the window. "She’d never in a million years admit it, but I think she’s still in love with him," I said, voicing a suspicious that had always been present in my mind, but one I had never voiced. "She knows what’s going to happen today, to protect Khivar. She’s strong, but I don’t think she’s strong enough to watch."

And, yet, I was supposed to be strong enough to kill him. My own father. I clenched my fist, scowling. Taking deep breaths I forced myself to release the tension that was building with every passing mile.

It was exactly then that Steen pulled the Four-Runner to an abrupt halt. I blinked, turning my head to stare at him again. "What’s wrong?"

"I can’t do this," he said simply. "Not like this. It’s too dangerous."

I stared at him. "Wha…?" But I didn’t even have time to finish the thought. He was reaching out. Before I could even move, his hand was touching my arm…and then everything went dark.

***

I came to slowly, voices filtering through the haze that I was currently inhabiting.

"I know it wasn’t the plan to bring him here like this. But he’s volatile. I was worried." Steen’s voice. "She’s done a real number on him, highness. We couldn’t risk…"

He was cut off by another voice. "You did the right thing."

I tried to move my limbs. They felt heavy. Although I could move my fingers, my arms and legs would not budge. It took me a further moment to understand that I was bound, hand and foot.

It didn’t take long to put two and two together. Steen. He had done this to me. He was a traitor. But just how was still unclear.

I wasn’t sure whether I should let them know I had returned from unconsciousness. I had no idea what I was dealing with here. First things first. I needed to get figure out where I was. Preferably without letting them know I was awake. I needed to maintain some control of the situation.

I stretched out with my senses, using the four that didn’t involve opening my eyes. I could hear water lapping somewhere close by. I could feel a slight breeze against my face. The ground beneath me was hard. Fortunately I was lying on my stomach. I quickly stuck out my tongue. Sand. And dirt.

It was pretty obvious we were outside. But where?

My heart started pounding when I realized that someone was now standing over me. I could sense his presence. It took every ounce of self-will I had to not open my eyes. Was it Steen hovering over me?

I could feel rage beginning to build, now that I was more with it. How could he do this? After all these years, how could he turn on us like this? And for who?

There was only one answer. It had to be my father. Who else could it be? Steen was a double agent. How? Why? And had this been true the whole time he had been my protector?

I understood fairly quickly that it wasn’t Steen next to me when the man - because it was a man - moved closer. I could sense that he was crouching, and much to my shock, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on the back of my head. "God, look at him! How could I not have realized?"

"Because you aren’t sick, highness. Even I didn’t realize it until you recognized him. No one could have predicted that such an unnatural thing would have been promoted by Khivar."

There is a heavy sigh as the man rose. "That’s why they keep winning," he said softly. "Because we can’t possibly think like they do. They will do anything." His voice cracked slightly.

There was a pause, as though Steen was waiting for the man to compose himself. "What are you going to do now?" Steen finally asked quietly.

"What can I do but wait for him to wake up and hope he’s willing to listen?" There was another long pause. "God…Serena."

"It will all be fine, highness," Steen assured him. "She will be fine. They must be made to understand that none of this was their doing. It’s not true anyway. Khivar finally trusted me enough to admit it."

"I know," the man who had to be my father agreed. It was taking absolutely every inch of my willpower not to open my eyes and finally lay them on the man who had abandoned me. "But, my God…"

Now, at this point, you might be wondering why I didn’t know what my father looked like. Why it was such a shock when I did finally see the man Steen had betrayed me for. If I’d known, couldn’t all of this have been avoided a year ago when he came to visit Serena and me in Chicago?

Well, how could I have known? There were no pictures of him anywhere when I was growing up. He was persona non grata. I’m sure there must have been photographs of the present incarnation of the deposed King of Antar somewhere in Khivar’s war room, or elsewhere in the base. Not that I ever found them, and, trust me, I looked. You’d think that there might have even been a dart-board with my father’s face on it in my mother’s games room. Or even hidden somewhere in her quarters, since I was entirely positive that deep down she still loved him. But there had been nothing. All I’d known was that I looked like my mother. That I couldn’t even see my father in my own face.

And maybe they had been right to keep his image from me. Because without a face to put to the idea of my father…well, it would be that much easier to kill him. Especially now that I knew what was going on. Now that I knew that he was going to try to turn me.

You would think that the thought of it - the thought that he’d really imagined I would turn traitor to my own mother - would have enraged me enough to ensure that I could do it. That I could kill him.

But, strangely, it didn’t. Because, even now, after everything - after all the years on the run, in spite of the threat that he posed to Khivar, the only father I’ve ever known - deep inside, I didn’t want to kill him.

He wanted me. It was the only conclusion I could come to. Yes, he wanted me to become a traitor, but the reality here was that killing me was probably in his best interest. And he didn’t want to do that. It was quite obvious.

He actually wanted me. Even just to hurt my mother and Khivar.

It was only then that I truly understand just how much I had always dreamed that this could be true. That when I finally came face to face with my father, he would want me.

How sad am I? And how sad that I still knew that it didn’t matter one bit. Because I still had to kill him.

Khivar was my true father. I had to protect him. I had to do this to bring my sister out into the open, so that once my father was dealt with, we could deal with her.

If only it could be done without ever opening my eyes. If only I didn’t have to look upon his face at all. Because my mother and Khivar must have known. They must have known, somehow, that I would not be able to do this.

I was weak. I wanted to know Max Evans. I didn’t want to kill him.

And maybe I didn’t have to. He didn’t sound like a monster, particularly. He sounded tired actually. Maybe we could work this out somehow.

"It’s not true." Because I was listening so carefully, I could hear the regret mixed in with the relief in my father’s voice. "For so many years, Steen…"

"Perhaps it is better this way, highness. I know this boy well. He is good at heart. He is kind. Once he knows, he will support you and your daughter. His attachment to her is deep. They will have lost their heir. It will only be a matter of time…"

Steen never finished whatever it was he was saying, because another voice abruptly interrupted.

"I knew it! I knew you were a traitor!"

My eyes flew open at the sound of my mother’s voice. I cursed silently to myself. I was facing the wrong direction. She was behind me. Instead I found myself staring at a cliff, beyond which water lapped gently in what I recognized almost immediately as the Roswell reservoir. Not that knowing where I was made a difference. I was still tied up. I couldn’t even try to disentangle myself. I was obviously facing away from all of them and any movement of the hands bound behind my back would instantly be noticed.

I couldn’t even move until I had a plan.

I cursed my mother silently. What was she doing here? Didn’t she know how dangerous this was? How stupid was she, deliberately putting herself into my father’s hands?

I didn’t ask myself how she had snuck up on all of us. Mind-warp of course.

It didn’t take me long to figure out what she was doing. After all her pretty words earlier, it was pretty damn clear why she was here. She didn’t trust me to finish this.

The fact that, at the moment, I was trussed up like an animal, and that perhaps she had been correct, was one I decided to ignore.

"I will see you fry for this, Steen! I trusted you! I trusted my son to you!" My mother’s voice was screeching now. "When Khivar finds you…"

"Tess." My father’s voice cut through hers sharply. "Why are you here?"

"For my son, Max. My son. You have no claim on him." I could hear my mother’s voice nearing. I closed my eyes again quickly. Because I had a feeling I knew exactly what she was doing. She was coming in to save me, and she was coming in to make sure I did what she wanted me to do.

She wanted me to prove it. She was here to ensure that I proved once and for all that I was hers.

"I’m not the one who has set him up to be devastated," my father snapped. "I think that makes my claim just a little more strong."

"I may have made some mistakes, Max, but you’re the one who walked out on us," my mother returned, her anger obvious. "All for that whore’s daughter. Don’t you know that the Antarians will never accept her? That only my child will be the one they will want for their ruler? And you could have had both of us. But you chose her. Even when your perfect little Liz Parker was dead, you rejected us, choosing her daughter over my son. You will never give the Antarians what they want."

"I don’t give a shit about what the damn Antarians want," my father told her, his voice rising. "Because if they want you, then I want nothing to do with them. None of it matters anyway. The only things that have ever mattered are the lives of our two children. But you could never see that. All you cared about was using both of them. You are the most selfish person I have ever known, Tess, and so many people have died because of it. So many people have been used, and then destroyed when you didn’t need them anymore. Alex. Kyle. Isabel. Michael. Liz!" He voice breaks again, but he continues anyway. "They were all people who cared about you! How can you not know what you have done? How can you not know that you were destroying your own child? That you are going to destroy mine?"

I could sense his anger rising. What if he hurt her? What if he physically harmed my mother? He had moved. His voice was closer to hers then before. I couldn’t help it. I opened my eyes again, flipping my head to watch them.

I could feel my confusion building. My father wanted me, but my mother was the one who had raised me. She was the one who had married Khivar to protect me. She was the one I had to side with.

Wasn’t she?

He wanted me.

If he hurt her… I couldn’t even imagine a world without my mother in it.

But, he didn’t seem to be evil…

This was my last thought. It was exactly then that all my confused thoughts came into clear focus. Because I laid eyes on him.

My father.

I had been living an idyll with Alex for the past two years, but the reality was, it had all been a dream.

Because when I laid eyes on my father, I finally understood why he had to die.

My entire world right itself, and turned on its head at the same time, as everything I had ever known about my father was confirmed, and everything I had always known about Alex was demolished.

He was evil.

But she was too.

Because I had seen him before.

As I took in my father’s face, as I recognized him, confusion disappeared, my fear was gone. They were both replaced with horror, which turned into rage. And this rage…it was a living thing.

My father’s eyes met mine, as though my anger was a beacon drawing his attention. They widened slightly, as though he read his death within their depths, and then he sighed slightly, as though in acceptance.

The one good thing I could say about Max Evans, in the end, he didn’t even fight. Because he knew already he had lost. With one look into my eyes, he knew.

My mother was right. I was her son, first and foremost.

He knew he was about to die. It almost helped. Almost.

Because, in the end, this wasn’t really about him at all.

Because it was her face - Alex’s, the girl I loved, the girl whose father was standing in front of me, the girl who could only be my sister - that was in front of my eyes when the world exploded into flames.

***

Her face is in front of me now, as I watch my mother place the granolith crystal into the machine that is going to take me to the past. It is this crystal that is my salvation. It is this crystal that will take me back, so that I can finally erase her face from my memory, once and for all.

She will finally be gone, and I will be at peace.

"We have three minutes," Mom tells me. "If you’re not gone before they’re up, we won’t get a second chance." She moves away from the machine’s mechanism, stopping in front of me. I stare down at her. I sometimes forget how short she really is. How delicate, how in need of protection.

I hold her tightly, as her arms come around me.

I am doing this for her, most of all. Maybe, just maybe, if I am successful, she will find happiness in the new world I will be creating. Maybe, things will change with my father. He will find real, lasting love with this woman who has loved him, in spite of everything.

"What if you don’t believe me?" I ask her abruptly. Because it has just dawned on me that the younger version of my mother - the one I will be going to when I arrive in the past, the one I will be helping to change the future - will not know who I am.

"I will always know you, my sweet Seanie," she whispers, tears in her blue eyes. "You have, are, and always will be mine. I will believe you. In fact, I know for a certainty that I am praying for you back there. I am praying for you to come. I am praying for help. Because I was then. And you never came. But this time you will. And he will finally be mine."

I close my eyes briefly at the naked pain and longing on her face.

After everything, after all he has done to her, she still wants him. She still wants my father.

The saddest part of it all, is that I understand completely.

Because, the sickest, the saddest, and the worst part of everything is that I still want Serena.

I hate her, I love her. My sister, my enemy. My goddess, my love.

And, as though she has heard me calling her, she is suddenly here. Standing behind my mother, staring at me.

Serena.

I shake my head, to force the ghost away.

But she doesn’t go anywhere. In fact, she opens her mouth and speaks, two simple words, which, unbelievably, change everything.

"Don’t go."

Hi ladies!

Thanks for bumping this. I hope to get to work on it soon. Right now I'm focusing on Brothers and Sisters and Love in Unexpected Places, but this will certainly be updated soon. It takes a lot out of me, this one. I need to be in just the right place to write it. Thanks for the encouragement though. I promise there will be an ending!

Kath