Da Man 'N His Woman (UC, Adult), Important AN 10/20 [WIP]

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

A/N 1: Hey, just a little teaser on the good things to come! I've combined the first two chapters, just to give you a little taste

Working Title: Da Man n’ His Woman

Author: Kristin aka Kiara Alexis Klay

Genre: Roswell

Rating: Mature, Adult for graphic language and situations

Pairing: Zan/Liz, Rath/Lonnie, Ava/?

Summary: Tragedy sends Liz on an errand to warn the New York gang about a traitor in their midst. Trouble is, after she does, will the da Man let her go?

Disclaimer: Roswell and the characters associated with the show are not mine, but Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, WB, Sci-Fi, and whoever else. The title for chapter 1 was a quote I read from a Roswell/Supernatural fanfic whose name eludes me at the moment. Just know it’s not mine and if it’s yours, please let me know, so I can properly credit you.

The Antarian words I use are Vulcan words used first appearing in the Star Trek movie Star Trek: The Final Frontier. Star Trek and all things associated with the franchise (such as the Vulcan language I’m borrowing) belong to Gene Roddenbury and company.

There is one part at the very beginning where I use the whole Liz journal entry from the pilot, ‘My name is Liz Parker and five days ago I died.’ No copyright infringement is intended, though it has to probably be one of the most used starts in Roswell fanfic.

This story idea was taken from a challenge issued by iRuletheWorld on the Zanatiks challenge forum, posted 5.23.2002, and I have not seen that anyone has taken it up, nor have I been able to successfully contact the issuer.

A/n 2: This is a sort of what if kind of story. The terms of the challenge are as follows.

What if…

1. The Roswell Gang get’s killed, but not Liz…
2. Tess was the bad guy…
3. Zan and his gang are all alive and kicking it…they are not evil…
4. Liz finds out about the NY group…she goes.
5. Liz does not plan on staying. All she wants to do is tell them like it is and get the hell out of the frying pan…
6. Liz has power because of Max…she just wants to get the hell away from everything alien…
7. Seeing Liz for the first time, Zan falls in love…
8. Liz does not want to have anything to do with him or the rest of them…
9. Zan being ‘da Man’ and all, he does not see it that way.

The challenger issuer also stated that she really wants Zan to have to fight for Liz and to make Liz play hard to get.

So this is what came out of that! Hope you all enjoy cause Zan is da Man!




Da Man ‘n His Woman

~~~

Black.

Empty.

Void.

Numb.

Nothingness.

There are probably several other descriptive words that mean the same thing that I could use and I’m missing, but I can’t find it in myself to care. That whole black, empty, void, numbly nothingness thing going on and all.

My name is Liz Parker and five days ago I died.

Again.


~~~ One Breath at a Time ~~~


A rough hand clamping down upon her shoulder jarred Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Claudia Parker from the onrush of unwanted memories that plagued her while awake or dreaming. It was such a relief to be forced from the nightmare, which was certainly more horrible to deal with while sleeping than awake that she didn’t mind the grubby hand, or the bored, angry, disgusted, and uncaring glare of the man before her.

“We here, now git.”

“Sure,” she rumbled back, her voice thick and hoarse from being screamed raw, sleep, and lately, nonuse. She uncurled and rose from her awkward position against the window.

She didn’t even wince at the ache left from leaning on her duffel, which she’d wisely and thoughtfully placed between her and the side of the bus for safekeeping. She slipped her arm through the sling, and shouldered her way past Grumpy, not caring what he thought of her.

Liz stepped off the bus and didn’t stop to stare until after she was out of Grump’s line of sight. Her first view of the City didn’t impress her as much as it would have five days prior, and she was certain that had the City been sentient, the feeling would have been mutual.

She looked like every other down on their luck seen better kind of days sorta gal. Her jeans were worn and wrinkled from days of wear and use, her tank top ruffled and her overshirt faded and hanging off gaunt shoulders that had seen better days.

There were deep, dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there until recently, and no make up touched her features. Her hair was still long but dank and limp, not having had time or energy to mess with it more than run a brush through.

But the most notable difference was in her eyes. Huge, doe-like, mocha colored eyes which had once stared at the world in awe and eagerness, who’s every thought, feeling, hope, and dreams were once laid bare in their dark depths now held a weariness and wariness of life in general. They were the eyes of a refugee, of a person who’d seen and done too much, who only survived one breath at a time, for the entire world like a soldier newly returned from a battlefield.

If you’d known her life up to this point, you’d have to admit she was.

At least she had been.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that Parker, she tossed her head, flinging her hair over her shoulder and adjusting the weight of her duffel once more.

But the one thing that hadn’t changed in those innumerable depths was the determination. There was still the fire of an implacable will that refused to keel over and die just yet.

She’d always been stubborn: once she’d analyzed and cross-examined her analysis and gathered the evidence to her satisfaction, she’d come up with a plan of action that she followed wholeheartedly, no inhibitions. Now that stubbornness was tempered through the fire of the circumstances she found herself in, and stoked until there was nothing but unyielding steel left.

Which brought her to the present situation.

She had a plan.

As soon as she finished, she was through with Czechs once and for all, and she would vanish to live the rest of her life as she could.

New York and Destiny needed to watch out, Liz Parker had a mission.


~~~ Sha-ka-ri ~~~

Completion.

It glimmered just in front of him, teasing him, taunting him. Always it was so close, close enough to touch, to feel, and yet so far, untouchable.

A jolt of awareness ran through the center of his entire being and he knew, he knew.

Completion.

It was here.

Close enough to touch.

He only had to reach out…

Zan shot straight up, jolted to wakefulness with a start. He was in his bedroom, the only light coming from the soft glow cast from the two cyan colored lava lamps. He ran a hand through hair, damp enough that the usually stiff crimson and violet tipped spikes were almost soft and pliant to his touch.

Sweat beaded his forehead, rolling down his neck, across his heaving, pierced pecs, snaking in rivulets through the canyons of his rippled, defined abs, pooling in his belly button to catch on the piercing nestled between the small fold before continuing on down to catch and absorb into the silky fabric of the sheet tightened across his lap and lower body.

Only one phrase made it through the confusion of a sleep-induced haze, and it flashed before his eyelids as if he could actually see it, like the afterburn image of a neon sign you stared at too long.

Reach out.

He didn’t even hesitate. If there was one thing that Zan had learned to rely on, it was instinct. Instinct had served to keep him and his own alive more times than he cared to admit and keep track of, so he went along with it.

Taking a deep breath, he closed copper eyes tinged with amber, and sought out that side that was definitively Other, his ‘alien’ side. That half of him that was the essence of a mighty ruler of an alien planet long past sprang forward like a beast set loose from shackles, flooding him, taking over, and filling him up so that he wondered briefly if this was the completion that he had been seeking.

No, he knew as soon as the thought hit that this wasn’t it.

Zan opened his eyes, eyes that had bled to burning black gold, the black iris starbursting on an amber field, the alien knowing just what to do, what was needed. He was exposed in a way that was difficult to put into words.

It was more sensation than actual coherency; he was alert to everything around him, a sort of hyperawareness, every heartbeat, every cry, and every moan of pain or pleasure in the people surrounding him. As if he were attuned into the heartbeat and pulse of the City.

As if on some sort of homing device, he ‘felt’ himself pulled along, blurring past people but seeing streets and places and landmarks he recognized, until he zeroed in on what had been his destination all along.

Large, mocha colored eyes laced with pain and sorrow whipped up to meet his, startled, a connection immediately fusing them together, their pulses and hearts beating in time, and for a moment, Zan and his alien half knew a moment of pure bliss.

Sha-ka-ri <Heaven>

K’fai <Complete>

Those self same eyes that had ensnared the core being of a King widened in surprise and recognition, fear and panic flashing for an instant before they hardened, a mental Get out! shouted his way, and then the link was abruptly and forcefully shut down.

While stunned she could eject him from that semi dream state it was okay, Zan felt a slow smile spread across his lips, it didn’t matter. He knew exactly where to find her, and how. That bond still pulsated, like a tattoo upon their souls, a living cord binding them together.

“Sha-ka-ri ha’su,” he whispered reverently, the powers of the King still riding him, curling his lips back in a feral, open toothed grin. Heaven’s angel.

<Katelau> his other side insisted, but the part that was human Zan pushed that away. It was too soon to tell, and the scent and memory of her fear and panic was too near, too imprinted in his memory.

She wasn’t exactly afraid of him, not exactly. But he intended to find out.


Several blocks and an alley away, tucked up high where no one would see or bother her, Liz Parker jerked straight up from her semi reclined position. The dream that was not a dream gripped her still, and she knew, knew that it had been no dream. He had been real. If he had, then that meant that the feelings were real as well, that she was in the right place, and that was something she didn’t want to think about.

She wanted, no needed, to be stern, unemotional, unaffected.

A stonewall, she smiled bitterly at the recollection.

She looked down in an attempt to distract herself from the past and gasped in horror. She stared in some fear and apprehension at her shaking hand, gazing almost mesmerized at the dance of whitish-green color playing beneath her skin, tracing patterns through her veins and arteries, making her seem almost translucent, the physical manifestation of the power that she could still feel surging through her veins.

A power she neither wanted nor wished for.

“K’fai,” she trembled, and this time, it wasn’t from the cold.

He would come for her.

“Damn Czechoslovakians,” she swore with fervently, and closed her eyes once more to concentrate, trying desperately to stem the flow of power.

But even after she had dimmed the outward glow, she could still feel it, feel him, and all she could see was the soft green and white of her power, and the vague outline of a familiar stranger who would come.

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

A/N: Wow, all this feedback is awesome! I knew y'all would appreciate fic over here. I was originally going to feed this in bits, but since I have at least three other chapters already written, I'll let you have this one for free!

Just for y'all's information, I got the Vulcan language that I'm using as Antarian from the Vulcan Language Dictionary website at http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/ . Roswell of course does not belong to me and neither does the Vulcan language. So enjoy the fic!



~~~ Calling ~~~


“Yo, get up yous!”

Rath groaned as the piercing sterility of the artificial light interrupted his slumber. His arms tightened around a warm bundle that snuggled deeper into the curve between his neck and shoulder, lanky arms wrapping across his chest to touch the opposite hip, and he did not want to get up.

His king had other ideas.

“Iz said ‘get up!’ Rath, Lonnie, UP NOW!”

The soldier, the General, in Rath snapped into action at the familiar, uncompromising commanding tone of his liege. He raised his human counterpart up even as his body protested leaving the cozy warmth of his mate who was stirring even now.

“What ya do dat for, Zan?” Lonnie grumbled, swiping at her eyes and glaring in the general direction her brother’s voice had come from.

She was not happy at being roused from a peaceful and comfortable sleep with her mate, an occurrence that had been rare this past week, so she was doubly grumpy at the interruption.

“Dis had betta be an emergency, duke, cause I don’t wanna hafta leave dis wonderful bounty on my bed for nothin’,” Rath yawned to clear the last of the sleep out of his system, running a hand through his messy mohawk and goatee, musing up the unruly strands further.

“Get ready.”

It was an order, delivered in a frigid and unbending line of attack. Rath suddenly felt cold as his human sleep-deprived side caught on with the alien General who was demanding immediate obedience to his king’s wishes and taking over his functions. Zan was acting the King and not da Man; it was bad. Or, at least it was important enough to pay attention, and hustle.

Lonnie, too, had finally caught on, and she stared wide-eyed at the spot her brother had been. Vilandra was even now taking command of her body and ‘thought’ some clothes into existence, mind and thoughts already awhirl with reasons why her brother would be acting this way. Sure, he was hardnosed and firm when he had to be, he was da Man after all, but he had always been respectful of her privacy time with Rath.

Lonnie gasped as she finally realized what had bothered her and sent her alien Princess into overdrive.

“Rath, he astral projected! He doesn’t know how to do that!”

The lovers stared at each other, the General and the Princess, for a moment before a new urgency spurred them on. They were out the door seconds later.



Ava scowled as the lights in her room came on, mind blearily noting that she had not used her powers or gotten up in any way to turn them on, so they should not have come on.

I just now was able to sleep, her mind protested.

She opened one kohl-smeared eye to peek around through a curtain of pink and blue streaked platinum hair to see what was the fuss this time.

Zan was there, but at the same time, he was not there. Her scowl deepened as she opened herself further, reaching for that small part of her that was aware of all times where her family was, and realized that Zan wasn’t actually present. Her senses told her that he was still in his room, several yards and a few rooms away, so the only logical conclusion was that Zan was projecting. That in itself was interesting, as it was a power more closely associated with dreamwalking and that was Lonnie’s expertise.

“What ya want?” she cocked an inquiring eyebrow in her former flames’ direction.

“Get ready. Meet in da war room.”

Both Ava’s brows flew upwards at that but ‘Zan’ was already gone. She didn’t waste any time, she flew out of bed, waving a glowing hand over her body to alter her clothes, bathe herself, and fix her makeup even as she telekinetically opened her door and ran into the hallway.

She met Lonnie and Rath in the hallway, and noted the worried looks on their faces, though they did their best not to. But Ava had lived with these two for years and she knew the signs well. Lonnie had her best I’m-alien-Royalty-f--k-U look on her face, and Rath’s was carefully devoid of all emotion, his jaw and mouth tight enough that the piercing on his lip and at the edges of his mouth was strained white with the effort.

“Zan said meet in da war room,” she stated without preamble and led the way down the stairs to the kitchen, not bothering to look back and see if she was being followed.

She knew they would. And she was right; the pair of lovers came into the kitchen and the trio passed through to the small room just off it.

The four of them lived in an old, converted warehouse that once was used for creating cabinets and kitchen sets, so there was a plethora of rooms and old offices to be utilized. The upstairs loft where the main offices had overlooked the rest of the factory was used mostly for living quarters.

Rath and Lonnie shared a bedroom, despite the fact that Lonnie had a room of her own, which was basically employed to store the majority of her things and as a place to stay when she got mad at Rath. It didn’t matter to Rath; the end result was wherever Lonnie slept that was where he slept, and he made no bones about it.

Ava had her room, as did Zan, though his was more of a master suite befitting his position as head of the household, with a connecting bedroom for his own purposes. Each room had it’s own bathroom, though there was a communal bathroom at the very end of the hall which rarely saw use but from visitors. There were spare bedrooms on ground level where the main residents wouldn’t be disturbed, but there were also ‘specialty’ rooms as well for each resident’s particular tastes.

A large portion of the downstairs was an open living room/entertainment room, with spacious furniture and state of the art entertainment system, the prize of which was the enormous flat screen television the boys were so proud of. There was also a library, a study, weight and training room with their weapons cache, utility room to wash clothes and store supplies, and a game and arcade room.

Rath had his own little room off to one side in which no one but him, and Lonnie of course, was allowed inside. Ava suspected it to be a training room of some sort where he kept his weapons, despite the fact that another section of the warehouse turned mansion had a communal training room they all shared.

Lonnie had her little room, where she had almost an office type setup going on at complete odds with her punked out appearance. If Ava didn’t know any better, she’d have thought Lonnie had taken up graphics design and interior decorating, as she’d been the one who had decorated and furnished and oversaw the remodeling of the crib.

Ava herself had her personalized room, a quiet place not her room, where she went to focus herself. It held a collection of books and maps and charts about the stars and galaxies. Something about the constellations kept her transfixed, and she found peace within the curve of the room, having asked Lonnie to make the room circular as opposed to foursquare. There was even a mural of the stars on the ceiling Lonnie had helped with, the main fixture being a series of five stars grouped in a flying V-shape.

Zan’s room Ava didn’t like to go into often. Not because she was afraid of it, or him, but because it was…unusual. In that room, you could practically feel the presence and authority come off in almost tangible waves; something about it screamed “KING”. It was as close to a throne room that Ava had ever come across, not that she’d had a chance to visit or see palaces described in books. And even though in her ‘past life’ she was the Queen, Zan’s mate, she had never felt comfortable there, as if she didn’t belong. She knew he had been remodeling it and hadn't been in there in months, so she had no idea what it looked like now.

But the war room was something different, it was what it was…a room for war. Formerly a conference room for VIP visitors, investors, and business stratagem, there was a large oval table in the middle of the room able to seat at least two-dozen if not more people with room to spare. Four stuffed, oversize rolling office chairs surrounded it, the largest at the very end, one on its right, and two opposite on the left.

Rath and Lonnie immediately took the two on the left, leaving Ava to take the one on the right. The table was wide enough that another chair could have been added at the end, but oddly, not even when Zan and Ava tried their ‘destiny’ to be together as a couple did she ever add her chair to sit beside Zan’s.

“Yo, Aves, ya know why Zan called us outta our nice, warm, comfortable beds to come into here?” Rath demanded once they were all seated.

“Nope,” Ava shook her head negatively. “I jest know he projected into my room, flicking on da lights, and waking me up ta get ready and meet ‘im ‘ere.”

“He wasn’t acting like himself,” Lonnie interjected, eyes traveling to the door they’d just entered, as if willing her brother to appear.

It was Ava and Rath’s turn to swap glances, and Ava could tell her big brother Rath was worried, and trying not to let it show. She did smirk though; she could imagine what Zan had to say and do to get those two to rise out of bed before they were ready.

If she didn’t know better, and she did, she would have guessed that he had played the King card, guaranteed to get Rath’s alien side to take over and get the required job finished no questions.

That was another thing, Ava scowled. The past week Zan, Rath, and Lonnie had been acting differently. Not too much, but enough so that Ava could tell something happened. First off, while the four were just chilling in front of the TV watching one of those stupid sports, the three had suddenly cried out and fell to the ground, twitching around like they were having seizures or something.

Lonnie had been first, then Rath had followed not a few heartbeats later, leaving her and Zan to try and figure out what was wrong. Then Zan had suddenly stiffened, his eyes glazing over and switching from alien King to Zan, and back again, all in rapid succession before he too collapsed, but silently.

She had been beside herself; sick with worry, and wishing their protector Cal were still around from wherever he’d vanished to over a year and a half ago to tell her what was the matter. She did all she could to make the three, her only family left, comfortable. She’d heard that loosening the clothes was good, so she set about the task of loosening up various leather accoutrements to enable easier breathing and hopefully, faster recovery with more oxygen flow.

As abruptly as they’d gone down, they recovered just as suddenly. Lonnie had unexpectedly sat straight up, eyes closed, her head turned sharply in a southwesterly direction, like an arrow on a compass homing in. Rath was up a heartbeat later, and Zan soon followed. All three had their heads pointed in the same direction and there was a look of pain and loss over each of them, noticeable even with their eyes closed.

The whole thing from start to finish had lasted maybe five minutes total, and Ava had started to calm down, when they had opened their eyes. She’d nearly screamed in fright. Eyes bled molten amber, with irises in an ebony starburst that stretched the entire eye. That was the day the alien essence in them was joined together.

As it turned out, that was the day their duplicates had died, and the essence from their dupes’ selves had rejoined their other halves in Rath, Lonnie, and Zan, creating a full alien underneath the human exterior despite the fact they were supposed to be an alien hybrid 50-50. They were now, more like 50-100, with their alien counterparts coming out more and more frequently, and with better control than ever before.

Since then, her family had started taking on characteristics they never had before, either alien or New York self, that was obviously an imprint of the dupes’ personalities. Rath had started listening to Metallica more often than usual and even started to cook and paint, being quite skillful at it as well. His power also seemed to change, become sharper focused and more powerful than ever before, especially his destroyer blast.

Lonnie had started to do more with her decorating and Ava had come in to see her out of her leathers and into something more…designer, something she, Lonnie, had always scoffed and made fun of those high maintenance, popular chicks wearing. Lonnie had even lengthened her hair and colored it blonde, alternating her dark makeup for something more natural and…cornball. Her dreamwalking ability had skyrocketed a hundred fold, and there was still somewhat of a learning curve in controlling it. She could also read auras and emotions easier, and occasionally, slip into another’s mind even while awake or mildly concentrating on the person in question, something she’d never been able to do before.

And Zan….well, let’s just say Zan’s taste in music took a dramatic turn for the worse. Zan had seemed so glum and depressed, as if half his heart and soul had been ripped from him, and he had started to listen to the Counting Crowes. That was the most awful music Ava had ever heard, and he only played it when he was seriously in a dark mood. So unlike the Zan she knew and used to crush on, the Zan who taught himself to tattoo and make a life for his unique family, who was street like no other, and whose music of choice most certainly did not include the Counting Crowes. Zan was never the best healer of the group, but suddenly, he could heal and shield and now astral project as well as he could lob the destroyer blast that he’d been noted for before.

Da Man’s dupe musta been major cornball, was all Ava could conclude and she didn’t like or understand all the changes wrought in her family.

She was the only one who hadn’t had an episode like that, so she could only conclude that her dupe, whoever she was, was still alive while the others were dead and she was still stuck at half power whereas before she and the others had thought they were already pretty powerful and controlled. This past week had shown them all how off the mark they had been.

“Where he at?” Rath growled, scowling at anything and nobody in his impatience.

Ava and Lonnie were spared having to answer when he came.

She felt him before he even entered the room, and she knew her brother and his mate could too, by their reactions. She wasn’t the only one who stiffened and rose from her seat as Zan came striding in.

Six feet of badass attitude and street smarts came stalking in riding the crest of his power wave. Leather encased lean muscle, black combat boots laced to mid-calf. A collared, black, sleeveless silk shirt showing off several tattoos was tucked into the dark leather riding low on his hips, the buttons left undone to show off a strip of a tanned, muscular chest and enhanced the view of a washboard flat stomach and the six-pack that drove many a women to distraction. Not to mention the Chinese dragon belly ring with small ruby studs for eyes and the silver of the bracket loops and buckle on his belt contrasting amidst the absence of any other color.

Thick, worn leather with short, silver spikes studded on the roughened leather banded on his right wrist, and a silver band cuffed just above the left elbow, and another around his bicep on that same arm, Antarian symbols etched into their surfaces. A spiked skull ring graced the middle finger of his right hand, while a plain silvery gold band rested on the thumb of that same hand. His neck held a leather and chain choke collar, with spikes to match those of the bondage band on his wrist.

Silver glittered in the artificial light, giving away the piercing on his right brow, three piercings in his right ear –one on the very top, the other two at the bottom- and four in the other ear –three on the bottom, on the very top. They varied between small hoops and ruby studs. The tight silk of the shirt fit like a second skin, so there was no way anyone could miss the indentation of the twin barbell nipple piercings, one on each side.

The spikes on his hair stood up in two-inch disarray, tipped screaming scarlet and the purple had been changed to a royal blue so dark it was nearly black. Everything about him screamed danger, the look on his face, and the five o clock shadow etching a path a full beard and short goatee low enough to show the spike piercing in his chin combined together to give him a dangerous air.

The King has entered, Ava thought with awe, eyes widened in appreciation. Hey, she may now consider him like a brother and her best friend, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the view after all.

“Listen up, yo’s,” Zan wasted no time, coming to stand by his chair, waving them all to sit back down. “Iz got a dream dis mornin’, an important one. In dis dream, Iz felt dat Iz had to reach out and find somethin’.”

“Find what?” Rath interrupted, quieting down at the quelling look Zan sent his way. Ava swallowed…this was the King and she had the urge to salute him, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off him.

“A girl,” Zan answered solemnly, any amusement conspicuously absent. A warning bell in itself.

“A girl? You’s woke me up from my post-lovin’ nappin’ for some girl?” Lonnie burst out, and she found herself under Zan’s stare as well. Rath shifted in his seat slightly, two instincts warring within; save his mate from her brother and king, or take up for his king and brother in law.

“She has ta be important somehow, otherwise Zan wouldn’t ‘ave woken us,” Ava decided to save her brother some grief. Both men shot her a somewhat grateful look, which pleased Ava to no end.

“She Called to me,” Zan spoke so softly the others almost didn’t hear him.

“She what?” Lonnie and Av exclaimed in tandem.

“She Called to me, to my alien,” Zan repeated, and briefly, his eyes glowed melting the copper into amber and the black of his iris to narrow and expand in the familiar starburst pattern as the King Zan took over.

~We must find her,~Zan proclaimed, voice deeper, huskier, and more resonating when his Other took over.

Everyone sat up straighter at his use of Antarian, and suddenly, they all knew it wasn’t a game.

~Where do we start?~ The General asked.

~You follow me.~

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

Hey y'all, here's the next part! Thank you all so much for your fb! We'll be seeing more of that 'delicious Zan' reeaalllyyy soon. But here's a little Liz action. lol[

Oh, and Knife Enthusiast is mine as far as I know, I haven't seen a magazine by that title, so I think I'm in the clear on that one. If you want a disclaimer, look at the first post, :p

And the title, Rish-ha-vel means hybrid




Chapter 4 - Rish-ha-vel



Liz bit back a growl of frustration. New York was definitely not a place for the smallest of small town girls to be in, no matter what desperate circumstance drove her. She had been shoved, cursed, hit on, nearly mugged, glared at, cursed at some more, been called ‘damn tourist’ and ‘eff-ing, no good, runaway’ too many times for her to count, and that was only within the first fifteen minutes after waking up.

“Lovely people, no wonder it’s so popular a City,” Liz rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth and clutching her duffel closer to her side.

Some homeless people had been violent enough to try and force her to part with her belongings, grabbing at the bag, but a fierce snarl and a discreet telekinetic enhanced push to just so happen to accidentally on purpose run their heads into a brick wall ended that. They would wake up with one heck of a headache, if they woke up at all.

Liz hadn’t taken kindly to being separated from her gear, her only reminder of all the good things in her life, so she might have been a little overeager in doling out their punishment. She was being extra careful as she tried to navigate the streets of the City, confusing with all the one way streets and alleyways and dead ends and subway stations.

Oh, and the fact that she had no frickin’ clue where the hell she was supposed to go, except for a vague tugging in her mind that lead her in a general direction to wander aimlessly around a City she didn’t like or care for so far. Since last night, Liz had tried to suppress her ‘bond’ to her dreamy visitor, but succeeded only in dampening it slightly, hence only the vague tugging. She had a feeling if she opened herself more, she’d be able to get a more accurate direction where she needed to go, but at the same token, she didn’t want to admit that there was a connection at all. She was sick of all this Czechoslovakian crap.

She didn’t know if this connection was exclusive or if anything or anyone else could pick up on it. Added to that, she didn’t know who could be friend or enemy, human or otherwise, and she didn’t want to risk it. Not when she had one last obligation to give in to, and she was going to fulfill it even if it killed her, which it just might. Yay, a day in New York and everything was just peachy.

The neighborhood Liz found herself wandering wasn’t much of anything to look at, one of the older parts of the City, so it was kinda run down and slightly slumming. The houses and apartments were all close together, with barely a space for a wheelbarrow to pass through between, each built with vastly different architecture, but architecture the same. There were little scrolls and curlicues and woodworking on the outside, tower and turret like bits of the houses, a mosh posh of styles and paint colors from old time Victorian to Renaissance and Gothic and more modern squares.

The paint was fading and chipped, there were graffiti marks all over, rusted gates, paper and other garbage littering the gutters and overfilling the trashcans by the streetlights. But surprisingly, it gave it something of a charm, and a great deal of character. There were little Mom and Pops grocery stores and gas stations, and there were less people crowding the way since it was a bit off the main high scale tracks. This area was closer to the docks and waterfront, so there was more old-timer and well-established industrial places, warehouses and fisheries, the salty tang of the ocean and the putrid aroma of pollution and the landfill.

But then the scenery changed again, more warehousing yes, but there was also a more variety and increasing occurrence of neon signs touting bars and clubs and hostels and other similar businesses. Liz’s eyes widened when she happened to glimpse in the window of one store she passed by and saw it was an adult bookstore that also advertised adult toys, movies, and accessories. She so did not want to go there and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, she looked around and realized she was on a strip, one of many...highly adult themed party strips it seemed.

“Oh…” Liz groaned, wanting to smack herself. How did she end up here?

Figures she would end up in a place that reminded her of Vegas. The universe seemed to have some pet peeve against her and wished her to suffer under an overabundance of reminders of what she lost, the good, the bad, and the…kinky.

“Move it or get outta da way cornball!” a snide voice snapped and Liz arched her eyebrow as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. And looked up and up.

A girl, who couldn’t be more than eighteen, stood there with a pissed off look on her face that Liz had come to associate with native New Yorkers, and was in one of the most interesting outfits that Liz had seen.

She looked like a walking add for Amazon Punks R Us, chunky combat-esque boots that zipped up to her knees, fishnet stocking with tears that looked intentional exposing the long expanse of her lanky legs, a strip of shiny black leather that rested low on her hips and high on her thighs.

It covered less and exposed more than many of the boy short lingerie Maria had bought her for a joke, complimented by a tight tube top in I’m-a-hooker-scarlet that stopped before her belly button. She had more metal in, on, and being worn about her person than Liz had ever seen outside a computer’s innards.

A jacket the same material as her skirt covered the rest of her wan, pallid coloring and her hair was cut in a sort of pageboy; the ends all jagged and dyed at least five different, very vibrant, very neon colors. It was spiked to flare in all sorts of directions like a demented rainbow. She had enough makeup and eyeliner to supply an Egyptian pharaoh and his entire court for years. Right now, those heavy lidded eyes were glaring at her and something inside of Liz stiffened.

“Sure thing, Rainbow Brite.”

She met the girl’s eyes squarely; saying nothing she negligently took a step backward, shifting her duffel strap to lie across her chest and one shoulder, to rest against the brick of the doorway on the building next to her. She arched her brow again and tilted her head to the side, the invitation for the girl to go ahead clear.

Inwardly, Liz was wincing. Where did that come from?

“Yer a real walkin’ saint now aint’cha?” the girl sneered, obviously angered, not that Liz could blame her. She’d be mad at herself if she were in that position.

“The truth sets you free,” Liz shrugged. That was almost Michael worthy.

“I outta knock yer lights out, b’tch!”

“Actually, the correct pronunciation is bitch, b-i-t-c-h, as in a female dog, or a ball busting woman. If you’re going to insult me, please don’t slur, it’s as bad in taste as your clothing.”

The girl’s face turned red and mottled like her shirt, and Liz idly wondered if that were healthy for her. But then there was no time to think further when the girl came at her swinging.

It was easy enough to duck and avoid that first swing; she was smaller than more half the other girl’s size and used to by now ducking and avoiding flying objects intent on harming her. The second punch was more accurate and harder to avoid as Punky B reigned in her temper and really started to pay attention. That and the duffel bag was hindering her mobility, but she wasn't going to part with it.

Great. Of all the people to start a fight with, you pick the one who is definitely not a poser, with street fighting experience and the knowledge to pull it off.

Excellent technique, Parker, you should write a book, ‘How to Piss off New York Thugs in Five Sentences or Less’.

Things were going all right for Liz; so far she just ducked and danced out the way, furthering enraging the lanky girl, but refusing to lay the first punch or any punch for that matter. She somehow knew that would only make matters worse and was intent on trying to find another way out of the mess her newfound Guerrin-inspired comebacks had caused.

But then, Punk-ee changed the nature of the fight by pulling a wicked looking knife from behind her; she must have had it hidden underneath her jacket. The blade was freaking six inches and she recognized the serrated edges of a combat knife, she’d seen enough in Kyle’s old issues of Knife Enthusiast, and she held back a gulp. She knew what those monsters were capable of.

This is of the bad. Where’s a knight in any kind of armor when you need him?

“I’m gonna cut ya up, li’l gurl!”

“Then you better do it before you talk to me to death…unless that was your master plan all along?” Liz couldn’t help goading, not even recognizing where the words were coming from.

Well, if she was going to go out, might as well go out with a smart aleck comeback than silently, Liz supposed.

“B’tch!” Punk-ee howled and lunged forward, slashing with her knife.

Liz’s instinct was to raise her arms and take a step back, trying to ward off the knife enough using her arm as a slicing board so she could try and get a grip on Punk-ee’s wrist to disarm her. It looked cool and great on the TV and movies, but they didn’t tell you that it hurt like hell and felt as if your entire arm was in flames. Liz couldn’t help grimacing as the wound started throbbing after several long moments.

Great, just great! That means it’s deep and that’s of the very bad!

Luckily her overshirt had taken some of the brunt of the attack, and managed to entangle the blade for a moment. Lucky in that it gave Liz the few seconds she needed to get a grip on her opponent’s wrist; not so lucky in that it left her right flank exposed and that the blade was still trapped next to her skin. Both facts that Punk-ee seemed to grasp at the moment Liz thought about them.

Punk-ee swung a left hook towards Liz’s face at the same time she pulled the blade back the way it had come, slicing more flesh and muscle on it’s return trip, lifting her booted foot and trying to connect with a powerful sidekick.

Liz managed to steer clear of the full force of the punch but at the cost of her arm being sliced further. She staggered more than gracefully leapt away, barely managing to evade what could have been a crippling kick to the ribcage. She pulled away further, noticing absently their fight had taken them through an alleyway leading out to the wharf area, getting close to the end.

That’s when she noticed the knife again; no longer glinting in the light for being slick and coated with her own lifeblood, the surprisingly deep color was almost purplish red in the overcast morning light, beautiful really.

A wrath like nothing she’d ever experienced surged through her, this spineless little pa-tauck had no right to draw blood over a stupid squabble, the burning sensation catching and igniting all the other rage that had lain dormant at her helplessness in preventing the catastrophe that had torn her world upside down, and now she just snapped.

~Tuhsau-kosh-vesaya!~ Liz roared, suddenly springing onto the offensive.

Crossbreeding daughter of a whore was the closest English translation to the original Antarian she spoke. To an Antarian, who took pride in their pedigrees and could list all the ancestors in their lineage for generations back, that was one of the greatest insults.

Liz’s attack took Punk-ee by surprise; until then it had been an almost one-way fight with Liz completely on the defensive, but now it was Punk-ee who was desperately trying to protect herself. The cornball had guts and a skill that she had chosen not to reveal until now, and for the first time in very long while, Punk-ee feared not only that she would lose the fight, but perhaps her life as well.

To Liz, the punk Amazon now represented all that had went wrong in her life, she represented the enemy, and in her mind, the rainbow hair transformed into platinum locks and the kohl-rimmed eyes were a startling blue instead of a hazel similar to her own, and the startled look replaced with a jeering smirk. Liz struck hard and fast, rage and fury mixed in with a bloodthirsty vengeance adding strength and speed to her assault.

Punk-ee didn’t stand a chance when in Liz’s passion induced berserk, the mental blocks against using alien enhanced reflexes switched off, and soon it was her blood decorating the brick of the alley wall, her bones crunched under a merciless gaze, her fear and sobs filtering through the garbage and refuse she lay pooling her blood in.

Liz didn’t even stop, the Enemy was down, and she needed to make sure she never hurt anyone again. She stepped back and snapped a kick that had it connected would have most assuredly broken her neck, but it never landed.

Liz cried out in anger at having her victory taken away, her head whipping around to meet the owner of the offending hand that was even now gripping her leg in a vice-like hold. A pair of golden eyes with starburst irises locked and held her gaze, unknown to Liz a mirror of what her own eyes had shifted to, and even as she snarled back and he bared his own teeth in a snarl and growled at her in a warning, a part of her recognized him.

~My kill!~ Liz projected mentally, too upset to know what she was doing.

~No,~ a husky voice answered, resonating both vocally and in her mind for a startling affect. Even as it was stern it also surprisingly soothing and she found herself calming down.

Liz cocked her head, considering, the voice didn’t seem mad or angry or even put out by the scene before him, just firm that she was not to kill Tess. Wait, Tess? Tess wasn’t supposed to be here yet. Frowning, Liz turned eyes that were gradually returning to normal, and she saw it was the Punk-ee girl and not Tess Harding that she had almost killed.

Oh, God.

Liz tried to but couldn’t really move away, the stranger still had her leg, and she was forced to look back up at him when she realized this.

Those amber eyes almost bled to black gripped her just as strongly as the hands now spreading warmth up her leg where he held her easily, and her breath hitched. Unknowingly her body curved towards his, responding on instinct to some call her numbed mind refused to acknowledge.

Then everything started to get fuzzy and the last thing she remembered thinking was, He found me.

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

A/n: Wow! You all continue to amaze me. This chapter will have more of da Man in some of his Kingly power I promise! Darn these transitioning chapters eh? Lol. Special thanks to those who reviewed:

Luna-Seer: Thank you, I’m glad you liked kickass Liz. I figured with all she’s gone through, Liz ought to have developed somesort of backbone by now. Especially having all that time spent around Michael and Maria!

Evansgurl01: A genius huh? Well…I wouldn’t go that far. But thanks for your vote of confidence anyway.

Elfangel01: thanks! Hmm…dynamics shift. Gives me an idea.

Pandas2001: that’s right, no mess with lizzie girl!

Vampyrax: love it that you’re hooked, my intent!

ShatteredDreamer: I think you’ll like Zan’s reaction in this chappie.

Orpheyfets: thank you, and here I am!

Roswell3053: more Zan, more Zan da man in dis chapter.

ZanaChloe: Yes, I am evil. I have perfected the cliffhanger, mwuah haha

Aussietrueblue: thank you and enjoy this next one!



Rish-ha-vel

Ch. 4b



Zan tugged the petite brunette close using his grip on her leg, and gently cradled her against his body, knowing she had been about to pass out, and caught her just as she lost consciousness. He was careful of the arm that even in the midst of her attack she’d held protectively. The scent of fresh blood and some of it seeping past her tattered overshirt clued him in on the reason why.

He hadn’t been in the best of moods when he’s realized she’d all but shut down the connection, making it that much harder to track her down, only the fact he knew she was coming closer to him in a roundabout way keeping him from breaking his promise to not use a substantial amount of power and find her. As it were, he still tried to break down the barrier she’d set up over their connection, and he’d been nearly successful as the morning went on. He’d sent Rath, Lonnie, and Ava in a grid search pattern, the foursquare systematically searching the area around their crib for this mysterious and important person who had riled their king so much.

Zan had just about been ready to blast Rath into a wall wherever he was at for making another snarky comeback using the mental connection when he’d felt it. A searing pain ripped up through his left arm, momentarily opening the bond, but that had been enough to let Zan know and he had taken off running.

She was close, very close, and she was in pain. His efforts to wear her block down had given him an advantage, and he was now starting to get glimpses and vague impressions as her own exertions and his persistence were starting to take a toll. It had finally broken down just as the exiled king rounded a wharf near an alleyway notorious for its rough characters to see an amazing site.

An enormous, mammoth of a street girl was going all out against a skeletal brunette she dwarfed and outweighed by quite a bit. That same brunette who looked seconds shy of collapsing in a heap from malnutrition and sleep deprivation. She was in worn jeans and a blood stained overshirt, duffel slung across her chest and she could have been any one of the numerous runaways plaguing the City streets, but Zan knew it was her, his very own Sha-ka-ri ha’su,heaven’s angel.

Suddenly, Ha’su’s emotions peaked and he could feel something in her snap, not caring what his sister and brother or Ava would think later, he rushed forward, for once completely in accord with his inner alien in reaching the little brunette. Their bond was such that he knew what she was feeling, what she planned on doing, even if she herself wasn’t aware of it at that moment.

He also knew how she would never be able at this point to forgive herself if something happened to the pathetic human who even now his Ha’su was beating to a bloody pulp.

Beneath all the pain and grit and exhaustion and sadness pulsed the heart of a warrior, and it was the warrior who had been Called out of her to become a whirling, spinning, out of control mass of rage intent on annihilating her foe. She was beautiful to behold, and her warrior Called to his warrior King, and he paused briefly in pride and possessive lust, eyes bleeding amber and black.

She was a natural fighter this one, relying on instinct that served her well, but untrained. His expert eye noted the breaks in her defense and offense that she needed to build up and the sloppy style, but fortunately for her, her rage and alien reflexes and the abrupt turnaround in attitude and fighting ferocity were enough to keep her opponent off and therefore gain the upper hand.

He only made his move when he saw her going in for the kill, stepping in, and not very surprised at the strength of her kick. Her anger and annoyance at him for interfering as well as the addicting smell of her cornered prey’s fear, was amusing and incredibly arousing, bringing their eyes into contact, and they met for the first time face to face.

~ My kill!~ She’d hissed at him, indignant and unafraid, the warrior’s fire burning within her amber tinged eyes, the irises narrow slits of starbursts that he knew resembled his own. She’d used the bond unthinkingly, a fact that both delighted and worried Zan at the same time.

~ No,~ he’d responded just as firmly, growling and drawing upon all the authority and will of his Kingship, both the King and him unwilling to let her destroy herself. She’d have to face herself soon enough, but not this, not now.

There was a brief clash of wills, but the King knew her alien side recognized him and who he was. It was a measure of trust that the fierce alien warrior within her calmed down and let him soothe her human counterpart. The thoughts he received from her were confusing –who was Tess and why was she The Enemy - but there would be time for questions later, right now he had other things to occupy his attention.

Touching so intimately even through the denim of her worn jeans and with the connection between them still wide open, Zan knew the instant the human side in his Ha’su returned, felt her surprise, horror, and fear at what she’d almost done. He growled again when she tried to physically and mentally pull away and he wouldn’t allow it.

Her eyes, those same eyes that had arrested him last night, looked up in them and he could see the faintest glimmer of amber inside their mocha depths. His Other was enraptured all over again despite his resolve to wait.

That fire was what did it. First sight of those eyes in the dream state had seized him, and his first glimpse of her entire self despite her haggard appearance had brought about instant lust and attraction. But that fire…her dark depths blazing with a passion and strength that would not die ensnared his heart and her pain clenched his soul. No part of his entire essence, alien or human, was spared.

Zan was in love.

Now his lovely little Ha’su, his Angel, was in his arms, her wounds and experiences exhausting her to the point not even her alien could keep her going, and feeling her underfed and lightweight body replaced any lustful fancies to give way to a fierce protectiveness.

Another presence tingled at the back of his awareness, a familiar and usually welcome presence. He growled in warning and glared as his best friend and second came rushing in to aide his king, too close for Zan’s liking.

~ My Lord, King, ~ Rath gave an unusually formal bow, eyes downcast and both Zan’s were pleased at the submission but not his nearness to his little Angel when she was so hurt.

~ She is wounded and needing medical attention. I trust you know how to take care of this, ~ Zan jerked his head in the direction of the Punk who had finally just passed out in relief.

~ Yes, my King, ~ the General bowed his head, respectfully and instinctively avoiding looking at the tiny bundle within his King’s embrace.

He could scent the beginnings of the plak-tau, the Blood Fever, the urge and desire to az’ir’kh’ar or copulate, and it wasn’t a very rational process either. It would not be wise on his part as a healthy and virile male to look upon one whom he suspected his King thought of as Katelau, his mate. Especially when said mate is as seriously wounded as the little brunette was. Rath could very nearly taste her blood upon his tongue, it filled the air with that unique aroma that was completely non-human.

Sweet n spicy.

Despite Zan knowing that he, Rath, was already mated with Lonnie, Zan’s own sister, Zan’s primal being would see him as a challenger not only to his authority but to his claim on his mate as well. The Blood Fever would only get worse unless they were plathau, consummate, or unless she sought to take another as Katelau.

Rath seriously doubted that Zan, either primal Zan or da Man Zan, would let that happen. It was the way he had been and still was with Lonnie, and he didn’t think Zan would be any less for his own mate.

“Vah mau vah tor-yehat ri stau," Zan ordered as he started walking past his second and toward the mouth of the alley. (As far as possible, do not kill.)

Rath held his submissive pose, bowing further, and kept his eyes downcast until Zan was past him and he felt his King leave the alleyway. Just for good measure, he waited a few more heartbeats before rising, chewing absently on the hoop through his lip as he gazed out where his King had left.

“Rath?”

The General looked over at his baby sister, panting slightly at her run to heed Zan’s calling, and his heart softened just for a bit. Her eyes were wide and he could tell that she too, had recognized the beginnings of the plak-tau and caught a glimpse of the small bundle in their leader’s arms.

“Itz gonna be aight,” he assured his sibling, but she didn’t look convinced, her right eyebrow winging upwards in a motion reminiscent of his own.

Rath felt badly then. His sister had been taught all her life that Zan was her destiny, and that in a past life they had been married and in love. Now it didn’t matter, for Ava and Zan had come to an amicable agreement but it had been rough.

To have the memories of loving a man who didn’t love her back in the same way, and trying to figure out what was her feelings and what were memories of a bygone lifetime was a challenge he didn’t envy her. It only made him feel worse that he and Lonnie had genuinely cared for each other and hooked up, just as their alien donors had, so long ago and Ava was all alone. So was Zan, technically, but Rath wasn’t about to tell his besotted leader that, no way!

“Iz hope so,” she whispered fervently, chewing on her lower lip as well. “Iz also hopes dat Lonnie don’t get in ‘is way. The way he’s acting not even she be spared.”

“Lonnie’s smart, she prolly already knows by now, anyways. Let’s get dis done and go back to the crib,” Rath ordered, concerned for his mate despite his brave words.

Yeah, Lonnie was smart but she was also persistent, and persistence with a newly awakened victim of plak-tau could be very bad indeed. Brother and sister prayed to whatever deity that was out there looking after them that nothing would happen to their loved ones in their absence.

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

A/n: Okay, I’ll be changing a few things from ‘Departure’ around to suit my own purposes, but some of the basic elements are still the same. Once again, thanks for all the feedback!

Pandas2001: I’m glad you liked the group interaction, I’ve never written so many truly individual characters like this before.

Orphyfets: lol, should have known you’d stick on Zan,

Evansgurl01: You and me both! :wishes for her own Zan:

Vampyrax: Zan’s alien is so fun to write, and honestly, I never thought of Liz being in heat, more like her trying to deal with the sudden onset of powers changing her. But that is an interesting idea…

Roswell3053: Don’t worry, Lonnie will make her mark, lol

Elfangel01: thank you, thank you. J You’ll have to wait for the next chappie for the big showdown, but I think you’ll enjoy this one!

Amelia: well I love you too!

ZanaChloe: Oh, so I’m evil huh? Bwah haha! Oh,erm, he? Yeah, I tried to fit them all together in a close group yet still have all the individual and unique traits that make them all so recognizable. The relationship between Zan and Rath I’d always figured for something similar to Max and Michael, only perhaps closer due to the fact they are ‘in-laws’ and have memories of being best friends in their past lives and this one.

Aussietrueblue: glad you’re loving it!

Shadowlynxbehr: wow, thank you, glad you're loving Zan, I love him too! Yes, I'm planning on Liz being quite powerful and able to keep da Man on his toes. Wow...you're like the second person to use 'intricate' describing this little fic...I'm loving it! Intense characters, really? wow.



Chapter 5

~~~ Lashan: Arrival~~~


Lonnie could smell the plak-tau long before Zan was nearby. Not that she needed her enhanced senses to tell her that. The bond between brother and sister wasn’t as strong or intimate as one had with a mate, but she could still feel the roiling emotions he was trying to dampen. Perhaps due to sharing a womb as well as blood.

Damn, dis isn’t good, Lonnie pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to be worried for Zan’s sake.

“Lonnie!” her brother thundered and Lonnie hastened to meet him.

“Yeah?”

Some instinct had gripped her watching part of the fight between the petite runaway and the Amazon, and she’d fled to return to their crib just a few blocks away to prepare. She’d known this was going to be bad and right now she was glad for whatever had prompted her.

The tips of Zan’s spiked head came into view moments before the rest of him and despite years of seeing awful things, Lonnie had to hold back a gasp. Zan’s beautiful silk shirt and much of his exposed skin was slick with deep, burgundy colored blood that had to have originated from the tiny figure in his arms. It seemed like so much blood to have come from such a little thing.

She was small; looking no more than a child of ten or twelve, yet Lonnie could sense she was older and more mature than her features gave away. A fall of glorious russet locks tumbled down to snake across Zan’s tattooed arm from where it had bunched against his chest, limply reaching toward the ground. Normally her skin would be fair but with the burden of stress and the lack of consistent meals, it was sallow and taught across features that had fast lost its baby smooth roundness. Thick, dark lashes fanned across the sunken cheeks and only enhanced the murky circles under her eyes.

Clothing that had once fit perfectly now hung off a frame in need of a meal and a good night’s rest, and a duffel bounced against a leather clad leg as Zan quickly closed the gap between them.

“Lonnie,” he began but she cut him off, that strange protective instinct welling up inside her.

“I have a bath runnin’, bring ‘er der, and we’ll seez ‘bout cleanin ‘er up.”

Zan growled as the duffel smacked his leg again and with a snarl he used his powers to undo the strap without hurting his precious cargo, and dumped it to the ground, too irritated and not caring at the moment. He followed his sister to the bathroom on the ground floor of the crib, looking worried at all the blood now coating his skin.

“In ‘ere,” his sister called and Zan was reluctant to part with her in any way.

With an impatient sigh and a “Move itz,” Lonnie was there waving her glowing hand, ridding the girl instantly of her stained and dirty clothing so she could have a better look at her injuries while giving her a bath.

And she needs one, thought Lonnie, wrinkling her nose slightly. Apparently the little spitfire had been traveling for a number of days and hadn’t stopped for more than a quick running of water over her body.

“Put ‘er down Zan.”

His refusal to do so made Lonnie want to smack him but she restrained herself with effort, a deep breath letting her know he was still in the grip of plak-tau even though it seemed to be lessening being in familiar surroundings.

“Zan…l’il bro, listen. She needs ya to puts ‘er down in da tub. Now.”

Lonnie kept her voice low and calm but firm, knowing that it was the only way to save her from a one way trip into the wall. Zan looked about ready to argue when the object of their argument started to whimper.

“If ya wants ‘er fer Katelau she ‘as ta gets better. Help me?”

A low blow but one that apparently worked with the obvious reminder of her pain breaking through the final haze and Zan was forced to place her in the tub. He lingered for a few seconds longer before backing off to let his sister do her thing.

Lonnie really didn’t want to have Zan hovering around her while she was trying to work, but she could tell she had pushed far enough, and should be thankful at what cooperation she’d received thus far.

With a gentleness few ever saw, she began the task of cleaning away all the dirt and blood surrounding the wound, which was still leaking the life force out of her patient. She truly wished that Rath were here; despite Zan’s jumpstarted healing abilities due to That Day, she and the others were more comfortable going to Rath with their injuries. He had more experience and control over major healing.

As it were, they’d have to do it the old fashioned, human way. When she was satisfied with the cleanliness surrounding the wound, she dried the area around it and used material on hand to bind and pressurize the cuts. It was going to be nasty, and if she didn’t accept a healing, the girl was going to have some doozy scars. Not to mention some intense therapy to keep the use of that arm.

While healing wasn’t her strong suit, Lonnie did enough to knit some of the nerves and muscle so the girl wouldn’t be completely without her other arm until she could give permission for a complete healing.

Through it all, the girl never stirred, and that was causing Lonnie more worries. She frowned, wondering why she wasn’t getting any flashes with the amount of healing she was doing, when they hit her.

~~~ She was standing in a desert. Several rock formations, almost mountainous but not quite. There was power here, power and something else. There were a couple humans flanking her, but it wasn’t them that had her attention. She sensed the familiar tingle at the base of her neck that told her one of her kind was nearby and she turned and met herself.

“Isabel?” she felt her vision self’s lips question, and that was when she realized it wasn’t her, but the brunette whose body was being used.

“Liz! What are you doing here?”

It was weird, seeing another version of herself. So this is what her dupe had looked like. Long, lustrous blonde hair and designer clothes that would make any high class uppity weep in envy, she exuded a classy air, yet at the same time there was a certain vulnerability about her. Her double’s eyes seemed sad, as if her heart had been ripped out, and there was evidence of tears if the mascara trail was any indication.

“Where’s Max?”

We had to get Max! Lonnie didn’t know why that was important but it seemed to be. Who was Max? Was he Zan’s double, or Rath’s?

“He’s with Tess.”

Liz and Lonnie’s lips curled back in a grimacing snarl, and Lonnie could feel the hatred and bitterness those three words caused.

“Isabel! Tess murdered Alex! She used a mind warp on him, he never went to Sweden, she used him to decode the Destiny book, but he fought it and she had to kill him! She warped Kyle into helping her move his body and set it up like an accident!”

Lonnie didn’t know what was going on, but she knew mind warping was bad, and that this was not good. Destiny book…like the one Cal had shown her, Zan, Rath, and Ava so long ago?

“It’s true! I got my memories back and I realized she made me dispose of Alex,” a deep, troubled voice came from her right, and Lonnie was only vaguely aware of a male outline and a brief glimpse of dark blond hair and blue eyes.

“She also warped Brody and my mother!” a perky, excitable voice came from the left, and a long haired blond female to her right looked on in sincerity. The three humans were straining with urgency and purpose, though Lonnie felt a niggling of something from the ‘body’ she inhabited…she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

But whoever this Alex person was, it was obvious he had been important to these people and her double, to Isabel. Beautiful brown orbs widened first in shock and surprise. Then they darkened, fury and grief chasing each other as she turned on her heel and stormed to a seemingly solid wall that suddenly opened up and Rath who was not Rath appeared.

“Michael!”

Lonnie had no compunctions with checking out her mate’s double. It was as big a shock at seeing Rath with no piercings or mohawk or tattoos as it was to see her own self with long hair and designer clothes. His hair was long enough for a mohawk had he wished it, but it wasn’t, it laid flat and slightly curly, the ends at the base of his neck brushing against the collar of his shirt. He might not have had Rath’s piercings but he certainly shared Rath’s penchant for working out. Hmmm…what a body.

“Isabel? Liz? Kyle, Maria? What are-”

“Let me through! Tess murdered Alex!” Isabel howled and flung Rath –Michael- to the side. The other blond, Maria rushed to help him up, but Lonnie’s curiosity was put on hold as the brunette –Liz- ran after Isabel. ~~~

Lonnie gasped as the connection was shut off, and she gripped the edge of the tub in an effort to keep from keeling over. A pair of strong arms –Zan’s she knew instantly- wrapped about her, steadying and soothing.

“What did ya see?” he asked quietly, worried gaze alternating between his sibling and the one his heart cried out was his.

“I saw…’er, saw ‘er and my dupe. Isabel. My dupe’s name was Isabel. And Rath, saw Rath, his dupe was Michael. A coupla’ humans. Dis gurl of yo’s, ‘er name is Liz.”

Lonnie swayed slightly, grateful for her brother’s arms, but she couldn’t help wishing that it were someone else’s arms that held her just then.

“Liz,” Zan tested the name on his tongue. Yes, a part of him seemed to sigh with contentment.

“You’s gonna be ok? Ya wants me to take over?” Zan asked, somehow regal even in those few words. He was concerned over Liz, yes, but he wouldn’t risk his sister either.

“No, no Iz good. Jest took me by surprise is all. She a strong sender,” Lonnie waved away his concern the same time she shook his arms off.

Zan was wise enough not to comment and let her shove him back. He took a few steps away, as much as he could to give her room and still be in the bathroom. Lonnie was grateful, but she kept her smile to herself, and instead focused on her patient.

“She knows abouts us. Us being aliens,” Lonnie continued as she started to wash the rest of Liz’s body. She didn’t need to look at her brother to imagine the intense amber eyes regarding her. “She knew da other set in Rozzy. And she be human, or she was human till recently. Someone, probably yo’s dupe, healed ‘er and went too far, made too deep a connection, shared some of ‘is essence. I felt traces of it even in the vision…definitely male and it felt like you’s, duke, but not. She’s changed, starting to become rish-ha-vel like the rest of us.”

“I knows dat,” Zan admitted so softly Lonnie almost didn’t hear him.

She didn’t ask him how he knew she was a changed human –he was da Man after all – and she was disturbed enough by the images of her double and the obvious pain in them after finding out about Tess having killed him.

Who was Tess? Another alien like they were? A Skin, an imposter? Lonnie couldn’t shake the feeling that this Alex guy was important to her dupe somehow. Why would he be so important to Isabel, almost like a love interest, when she had Rath’s dupe Michael? Unless her and Rath’s dupe didn’t go with all that destiny crap, like Zan and Ava had refused theirs. Not that she and Rath did either: it hadn’t been destiny or someone ordering them to get together that her and Rath came together. And thinking of Rath…Lonnie opened the bond between her life mate and nearly sighed in pleasure as the connection snapped easily in place.

He had been trying to connect with her for a while now; his love and worry –so sweet but she could handle herself with her brother just fine – were comforting, and she knew that he and Ava would be here shortly, Rath storming the crib’s doorstep like a General laying siege.

Sit tight, yo, he sent and Lonnie rolled her eyes, rinsing the shampoo and conditioner out of the thick hair sliding between her fingers.

Who you’s be ta be givin’ me orders? I ain’t one of ya soldiers to order about, ‘General’. I give you da orders, She thought back at him furiously, smirking to herself at the growl that she could hear loud and clear in her mind and sent him the mental picture of her sticking her tongue out at him, the piercing on it flashing silver and red, taunting with the letters F-U written on the tiny ball.

Iz don’t thinks so, Princess.

She stiffened at the image he volleyed back at her, of her being chained to their large king sized bed, and Rath having his merry way with her.

It was her turn to send a mental growl to him, fighting the rising desire and need to be with him now, and she switched the picture so it was he, sans clothes, chained to the bed with her standing beside with a wicked smirk.

Arrogant aren’t we’s? she taunted him, imagining the cocky smirk on his face even now.

Only when itz a sure thang, Rath promised, a phantom touch caressing her in places that never should have been, what with her brother present.

Behave, she admonished and then promptly blocked him, knowing that that was going to piss him off. She couldn’t help the chuckle that rose in her throat; he’d make her pay for that and she was looking forward to it.

“She clean, bro,” Lonnie announced, using her powers to pull the plug to drain the filthy water.

Before she could do anything further, Zan was just as suddenly there, towel in hand and already reaching for his tiny bundle.

“Thanks, Lon,” her brother said with such raw sincerity Lonnie stared at him as he left the bathroom.

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

You all are evil. Making me post so often. Now I have to have my muse Jareth concentrate on writing more so I’ll be a few chapters ahead of you instead of one.

So in revenge, Jareth and I are going to feed you bits of this very large chapter and I give ya’ll the raspberry!

So...thank you to all who reviewed! And to your unsubtle pressure that made me post so many chapters before I realized I'd run out of chapters to dangle in front of you! Bah! Making me work! Who would have thought?

I had fun writing this chapter, even more fun going back over it and laughing at what I wrote before I changed and added a few elements. Hope you like!


Puk’ai’la – Ally

Chapter 6




Zan carried his precious cargo into the nearest bedroom he could find, one of the many ground floor guest rooms their crib sported just for this purpose, all the while having a heated debate with himself.

The part of him that was alien and still in the grip of the plak-tau wanted to take her to his room and claim her immediately before any unmated male could try her for themselves, and then lock her up where she wouldn’t get hurt like today. That part was sure that her alien part would wake her up long enough to do so, and do so thoroughly, and most enjoyably.

Another part, the cornball element that he had determined to be the remnant of his dupe’s essence, was all against it, wanting to hold, cuddle, protect her and ‘wait until the proper moment.’

Who are yaz, da bloody pirate in dat movie? Zan irritably brushed both thoughts aside.

King Zan razzed his Roswell half, proper moment indeed. He snorted something that sounding similar to ‘no wonder you died a virgin’ and Zan rolled his eyes at the inner commentary as Roswell protested he hadn’t been; gently he set the girl, Liz, down upon the fluffy comforter, bracing her against a few pillows to support her neck.

He waved a hand to one of those touch lamps that went from low, medium, bright, and extra bright, settling on the lowest and softest setting, then looked back down at his prize.

She was gorgeous Zan decided, all parts of him readily agreeing wholeheartedly, looking past the days of neglect and seeing her as she truly was. He had used his powers to cheat, and had dried that gloriously long and silky hair, and checked her bandage again, just to be sure.

He took a moment to step back and admire how her hair fanned against the pillows and was framed by the dark blue of the bed set; how the white towel only enhanced and made him even more curious for what he knew would lie beneath.

Of course he’d seen her naked; he couldn’t have put her in the tub with Lonnie’s Houdini clothing trick without seeing her naked. But at the time, he had been more worried with saving her life and less look-at-that , taking the time Lonnie was working on her to clean himself up while he waited. Now, with all the time he could need, he looked his fill to see what he had missed previously.

Petite seemed to sum her up quite nicely. Height-wise, she wouldn’t even come past his chest, and he knew for a fact that his hands could span her waist and just barely connect with each other.

Iz could works wit dat, Zan felt the anticipation start to curl in the pit of his stomach even as he sought to keep control of his body away from his alien side.

He was in agreement with Roswell that taking her while she was indisposed was not the way he wanted things to go down. When he took her, she was going to come willingly, and eagerly into his embrace.

She was short and compact, he determined, raking his gaze with an interested eye, ignoring the Roswell half that said this was inappropriate.

She’s gonna be mines, anyway, he reasoned, continuing on despite the disbelieving snort and warning that Liz wasn’t going take kindly to this. King Zan told him to shut up.

She wasn’t as heavily endowed as Ava or even Lonnie, but she definitely had some curves, Zan smirked, holding back an appreciative whistle at the subtle swell of her breast under that damned towel and teased him. He wanted to know how they would feel against the palm of his hand, fingers rolling and teasing the smooth flesh.

Roswell moaned at the imagery even as he took a peek for himself. King Zan gave Roswell a mental clap on the shoulder with an air of camaraderie and the three admired the view.

He scowled as his eyes fell on the bandage, obscuring the beautiful olive tint of her skin from his eyes, and tenderly brushed against the textured cloth with his thumb and a couple of fingers. Zan had to grit his teeth as he recalled vividly the smell and taste of her blood upon the air. He wanted to complete the healing, but to do an accurate job, she’d have to be awake or at least looking at him and it didn’t look like she was going to anytime soon.

He couldn’t resist, he came again and reached out his ringed hand to run light fingers up the exposed bits of the leg nearest to him, reigning in a moan of pleasure at finally having her bare skin touching his own.

“K’fai,” he sighed, smiling lightly, continuing those soft touches. He soon became absorbed in just the feel of her freshly cleaned skin, the smooth silky feel as his fingers glided up and down. His exploring hand wandered further up her leg, to her thigh and toyed ever so slightly with the edge of the towel…wondering.

Roswell was shrieking now; disturbing that towel was a Very Bad Idea . Liz was going to wreak havoc. She may be petite but she packed a wallop and her death glare wasn’t something to be experienced.

King Zan was snarling about him being a wuss and then…

“Hands off!”

A sharp stinging upon his arm came as much a surprise as the shocked, self-righteous rasp did. Zan raised an eyebrow as his head jerked upwards from his inspection to meet a very awake, very pissed Liz, who had somehow found the strength to slap him. Roswell moaned an I-told-you-so.

“Who do you think you are?” she ground out, glaring balefully upon him, just before she threw a punch that connected solidly with his stomach.

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

Hey, y'all I'm back! I've been typing out a couple more chapters and going over what I did have. That, and going over my other crossover story, lol. And drooling at watching Dark Angel re-runs while taking in the delightful Jensen-ness of Ben and Alec. *sigh* Okay, enough about Jensen, let's get to Zan!

Once again, thank you for all who reviewed, yes, that was my fave chapter so far. I hope you like this one as well!



~~~ Chapter 6a ~~~



“Woman!” Zan grunted out, all the breath leaving him in one whoosh. The punch had a surprising wallop behind it, and his abs protested the contact very much so.

He recovered enough to catch her next swing and shoved her back against the pillows in an effort to protect him from further bodily harm, especially as he was sure she intended to hit him lower and that was not to be allowed.

“Well?” Liz prompted, thankful her rusty voice hid the tremble of fear she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to hide otherwise.

Her entire body throbbed and protested her conscious state; surely just a few more hours…or days…would do wonders and then she could deal with this later, when she was much better rested. There was a sharp, burning and insistent ache on her left arm, and she could feel pinpricks of needle like pain leaping around it. Not to mention her good arm still felt the aftereffects of the viselike grip the man had had on her, and throbbed slightly from punching him with so much force.

She grimaced as she attempted to prop herself up with her good hand, the bad hand weakly grasping at the towel to keep herself covered as much as she could. Good thing the towel was one of those extra long, extra wide, and extra fluffy sorts.

“Let me help you’s wit dat.”

She tried not to stare incredulously up at him as he moved to help. He almost seemed…contrite. Well, he should be, he had been feeling her up! Still, even after she hit him why was he being so solicitous toward her?

He was worth a stare or two…or three, or four. Glorious dark brown hair was held up in two inch spikes, each individual strand tinted either scarlet or navy, colors so dark it turned his natural hair nearly black where they came to blend in together.

It was unfair that his sleeveless button up shirt was unbuttoned, showing off pumped out biceps and that agonizingly uninhibited view of his lean chest and abdomen down to the faintest trail of hair that led just past his belly button and straight into the top of those amazing leather pants and possibly beyond. The shirt was sheer enough she could see the outlines of his nipples and the two rings in each one, as well as the vague outlines of a couple tattoos but she couldn’t really make them out.

“That wasn’t the answer I was going for.”

Sure, sound tough, go ahead, Liz mentally prepped herself even as his hands reached over and helped set her to rights.

She tried not to shiver but she was sure he could see the goosebumps he raised by just barely touching her. Such strength in those hands and yet he was so gentle with her, even as he was tossing her around like a stray pillow. He didn’t linger touching her, probably still smarting from and mindful from her blows to him earlier.

In her defense he had woken her, not unpleasantly, from a sleep with touches that she’d only ever imagined in her most private, erotic dreams she’d never even shared with Maria.

She couldn’t help but notice his bare arms sported tattoos as well, the right arm bearing what she now recognized as the foursquare symbol on his upper bicep. Below that on his lower arm was a tribal marking in black that banded just past his elbow to wrap around the entire arm. It almost looked like a mix between a thorny vine and barbed wire. That same arm had the leather studded bondage cuff, and two rings, a simple silver band on his thumb and a spiked skull in red and silver on his middle finger.

“Dat’s what yo’ll haveta settle for.”

“I don’t think so.” Liz’s eyes narrowed and she sincerely wished that out of all the funky powers she could have received, why wasn’t death ray vision one of them? It would have come in handy right about now.

“Ya wants ta know who Iz thinks Iz am? I’ll tell ya who Iz am, Woman. Iz da Man.”

In her mind, she had known that there were duplicates, that there had been a duplicate of Max. And that if there was one of Max, there had to have been one of Michael and Isabel and…she who would not be named. But knowing and actually being face to face with one of the said duplicates was another thing entirely. Especially when the current one was completely droolworthy. Max couldn’t ever have compared to this Punkified Adonis.

The tattoo on the left was an intricately detailed broadsword surrounded by barbed wire with a blue, purple, and silver sphere held finishing off the end of the hilt, held in the open mouthed grip of two Chinese style dragons. Antar. How Liz knew that she didn’t know, but that’s what it was. The tip of the sword came to the top of the silver armband, etched with alien script, worn high on his arm. The skin below was untouched from the end of the first band until the end of the second band, right above the elbow. The familiar Antarian swirl was tattooed in it’s usual blue on the inside of his lower arm, about an inch and a half away from his wrist.

‘Da Man’ huh? Liz felt her own unpierced eyebrow wing upward at that.

“Well that doesn’t tell me anything other than you have a high opinion of yourself. And don’t call me ‘woman’ like that, it’s degrading the way you say it.”

She suddenly wished she could take the words back as the most amazing brownish-gold eyes looked up at her, glinting soft amber in the lamp’s dim glow, a barbell pierced eyebrow raising upwards slightly. Was he laughing at her?

She swallowed but held her ground as in her natural inclination to submit, she shifted slightly, and her bare skin rubbing against the terry cloth of the towel reminded her of the reason why she had dared speak out in the first place.

“Dat ain’t opinion, Angel, dat’s fact,” those lips so like Max’s twitched upwards in a smile too knowing and too worldly to have ever graced Max Evans’ face.

“Oh, really? And does ‘da Man’ ,” Liz fought not to laugh at the title, “Have a name like the rest of us mere mortals?”

The look this man, and he was a man, the look he was currently giving her was unlike any of the sweet, longing looks of adoration she was used to being sent her way. It was far too knowing and arrogant for her peace of mind and she wished wholeheartedly she were not meeting him like this without clothing.

Clothes didn’t make her who she was, but it would be easier to face him covered, and actually be taken seriously. Let’s face it; you can’t really take anyone seriously when they’re only covered in a towel. Especially when that person in question was staring at her as if wondering how good she’d feel impaled upon his manhood and just seconds away from doing it.

Why did she have the sudden urge for him to do just that?

Get a grip, Parker!

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. It has been too many days since I last posted an update, hehe. Only...five days, :b


Enjoy!

~~~ Chapter 6b ~~~



“Iz thinks you’s knows it,” Zan smirked, letting a lazy smile stay upon his face as his little ha’su , his angel, faced off with him.

He suddenly understood just then why Rath and Lonnie ranted and raved and fought and bickered with each other like mortal enemies all this time; it was incredibly fun and challenging, wondering what the other would say or do next. Zan found himself looking forward to seeing that olive skin flush red with anger, and couldn’t help but wonder how it would look under a different set of circumstances with a different channel for that passion.

The fact that she had even hit him previously was an even bigger turn on and he found himself just as aroused as he had watching her fight. If nothing else, her fire had only kept him interested and the glare and mocking arched brow just served to ignite his curiosity more. He thought she looked sexy as any girl or woman he’d ever seen. Seeing as she hadn’t even touched him like he was starting to wish for served only to stoke his inner fire further.

“Do I?” she questioned softly as she cocked her head, expression changing enough that Zan knew she wasn’t teasing or baiting him any longer.

He almost mourned the lack when he realized this could be an even better opportunity and perhaps let her see him as not just someone to be defensive around.

“Name’s Zan,” he admitted, wanting to show her that she could trust him and that he wasn’t here to antagonize her.

He sat very carefully on the edge of the bed, far enough from the middle where she lay with one leg curled under and an arm protectively holding up her towel. He had to fight the urge to cover his stomach protectively as well; she’d really known where to hurt and how to throw a punch.

Wonder what she’d do if she knew Iz could just melt dat away wit a thought, Zan laughed inside, careful not to show anything in his expression, lest she think he was laughing at her. He also didn’t want to give King Zan any further excuse to take over. He was panting and grabbing for the bit enough as it was.

“Zan?” she repeated, tasting the name upon her tongue. “Zan.”

She liked it. But she wasn’t going to let him know that if she could help it. Besides, his name triggered her memory on why she was even here in the first place.

You don’t want to get involved with another Czech, she scolded herself, giving herself a mental kick in the rear.

“I’m Liz.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Angel,” his soft tone was suggestive and warm and intimate.

Liz felt the blush rise from all over and she flushed, clutching the towel closer, trying to ignore Zan’s quiet laughter.

Damn the man for finding her embarrassment amusing! He didn’t say her name on purpose! It was so…aggravating.

“And do you know where Vilandra, Rath, and…and Ava are?” she inquired further.

Zan cocked his barbeled brow again the curt tone of her voice and at her hesitation on Ava’s name, wondering briefly at the significance. He also doubted Lonnie would be happy with being called Vilandra.

“Yup. Iz knows where Rath, Ava, and Lonnie at,” he stressed Lonnie’s name.

Wouldn’t do for his Angel to get into another fight so soon for something so stupid as Lonnie getting her thong in a twist at the use of her true name.

“Where?”

“Outside da room tryin’s ta eavesdrop,” Zan snorted, grinning both at the shocked look on Liz’s face and as he heard the protests from outside the door.

“Iz sure dey wants ta come inz and speaks wit ya.”

Well, Rath couldn’t care less, actually. He knows how ta waits.

“Oh,” Liz spoke quietly, brow furrowed. Her tongue came out to lick her lips just before her bottom lip was gently gnawed between her teeth as she thought.

“Whatz da problem?” Zan felt he had established enough friendliness and goodwill to ask, even as Roswell suggested the thought of clothes, seeming to understand her dilemma.

That and words seemed to be just the thing to get his attention off the fascinating way she was biting on her lip. He had to hold back a growl; no one but him would be allowed to do that, not even her once he made her his.

“I don’t have any clothes,” she admitted softly.

“So?” He shrugged, not really having a problem except, damn, Roswell had been right.

“Zan!” Liz was shocked enough not to care about the ease with which his name slid off her tongue.

“What?” he asked not so innocently.

“Zan gives da gurl some clothes so we cans talks ta ‘er!” A voice thundered from behind the closed bedroom door, making Liz jump.

Zan rolled his eyes at his sister’s muffled demands, breaking off his inner debate, giving Liz a shit-eating grin, but rising off the bed to storm and fling the door partially open to glare at the trio gathered outside.

“Isabel?” Liz whispered, face paling slightly, before she shook herself.

There’s no way that could be Isabel…even if she did have her duplicate’s talent of interrupting things. Whatever the things were that weren’t happening that could happen which weren’t at the moment. Had to be an alien sister thing, Liz mused.

“Yo, Lonnie, gives me dat duffel over der.” Zan glanced back at his rescued damsel who kicked punk ass through the corner of his eye, having heard her thoughts.

Lonnie snarled at the order even as she stomped over to the abandoned duffel muttering something about ‘princess’ and ‘damn gender hierarchy’; Rath was trying very hard not to laugh even as he leered at her swaying leather clad rear.

Ava found biting her lip and studying the wall very fascinating, fighting the impulse to peek around Zan’s towering form. Well, Zan towered over her at least. Rath could easily see over his King’s shoulder if he wanted to. But he was smart enough to know better than to court suicide.

“Der, now tell ‘er to hurry up so’s we can eat!” Lonnie flung at him the same way she flung the duffel.

“You shoulda ate already.” Zan easily caught the flying bag.

“ Someone woke us up and had us out lookin’ fer ‘er before we’s could eats,” Lonnie glared.

That wasn’t really the issue but it was part of the truth.

“Den dat’s yo’s problem,” Zan shut the door and turned back to a blushing Liz, who realized that she was the one ‘they’ had been looking for.

“Here’s yo’s stuff.” Negligently he laid it on the bed and stepped back, but didn’t leave the room. He loved looking at her when she was all flustered; her neck and face turned such a becoming shade of scarlet, wonderfully highlighting the curves he wanted to acquaint his mouth with.

“Thank you.”

There was a strained silence, at least on Liz’s part, as she tried to figure out how she was going to deal with this. Zan hadn’t left the room; in fact, the guy was arrogantly smirking and looking at her with thinly veiled amusement. And lust. But that couldn’t be.

“Could you please leave so I can get dressed?” Liz asked when she finally realized he was planning on staying and studying her. Seems he had a few things other than looks in common with his ‘twin’.

“You’ll prolly needs help wit yer clothes. And,” he cut in before she could do more than open her mouth, “You’s gonna need someone ta finish helping dat heal.”

Liz looked down at her bandaged arm, frowning as she took in how large an area had been affected. The top half of her left arm, and a decent portion of the lower had been swathed in bandages. The pain, though dulled, let her know it wasn’t just overeager wrapping that the bandage nearly spanned her entire appendage.

He is so not touching me anymore. To heal me and form a connection, I can’t get involved any further, she added hastily, not even fooling herself.

“Stay where you are,” she ordered, ignoring the incredulous raised brows.

She sighed and closed her eyes, free hand leaving her death grip on the towel to lightly touch the bandage. Echoes of…something bounced back at the edge of her mind and she realized she could track all the damaged nerves and tissue and vessels when she followed that something like a homing beacon. She could sense what was wrong, what had been ‘fixed’ - she’d have to thank whoever had done so - and what still needed repair.

That she couldn’t do it never even entered her mind. She just kept her eyes closed and concentrated, ‘seeing’ nerves reform, tissue build back up, blood vessels reconnecting as if they had never been broken. She delved deeper and that faint echo taunted her again; it was like a footprint in the sand that was only partially washed away by the surf.

A reminder of who had healed her? Liz wondered. But was it a reminder of Max…or the other Czech who helped her?

“Well, well, well.”

Liz started at the unexpected caress, and looked up to find Zan standing close enough to touch –which he was doing now- staring closely at her bandaged arm. Her skin prickled as she felt his power unfurl through the palms gripping her arm, searching her now completely healed wound, and she gasped. Max’s power had never felt like this; this was like being touched by a live power line only it didn’t shock or burn, at least not painfully enough for her to want him to stop.

She didn’t even notice the lack of pain in her arm because of the eyes that constantly shifted from a starburst iris upon a golden field to a ‘normal’ copper and back again held her gaze.

She blushed furiously once again as his eyes flicked lower, a slow, delighted grin creasing his face and she realized the top edge of the towel had lowered and some of her cleavage was behr to his sight. His left arm reached upward and the edge of his knuckles just behrly grazed the suddenly sensitized fullness of her lower lip and chin, causing an involuntary sigh and shudder through her body.

“What are you still doing here? Get out so I can get dressed!” Liz jerked away from his touch, scooting across the bed to the safety of the other side, suddenly having come to her senses.

When in an embarrassing and awkward position, anger is good, Liz trembled, embarrassment and anger lending strength to her voice and resolve, chin lifting in time to the now healed left arm that pointed the way to the door shakily.

Zan chuckled, a sound that sent shivers and a curious jerking throughout her body, especially those areas she didn’t care to think should have been affected. She desperately tried to stay strong in the midst of her reawakening alien side wanting to ‘test the waters’.

Discarding the towel and lounging back on the bed is not a way to get this man out of here! Liz chastised her inner alien.

“I’ll leaves ya.”

She sighed in relief and appreciation as he made to leave, unintentionally gazing at that wonderfully sculpted behind, thanking God and all the Powers that May Be for leather. The back view was just as amazingly fashioned as the front had been, and she found herself unconsciously licking suddenly dry lips. She quickly averted her gaze when she saw him stop and had schooled her features somewhat as he turned back around in the doorway.

“I’ll waits fer ya outside. And Liz…”

She looked up expectantly at his use of her true name while he waited a beat.

“Iz likes that ya enjoys the view.”

He winked at her appalled face and shut the door.

~~~

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

Disclaimer: The usual…not mine. If they were, do you think that Zan would be dead and Liz with Max?

A/n: Thanks for all those who reviewed! I would love to be able to list y'all but I have time constraints so just thank you!


Chapter 7
Pla-tor: Back-up


“Horrible, wretched… male !” Liz spat in anger and embarrassment. Both were directed at herself but a great deal of her ire was reserved for a certain spike haired alien King who was quickly turning out to be as much trouble as the last one. No, Liz took that back. He was more trouble than Max, much more.

She tugged her duffel close to the edge of the bed and opened up the bag, dumping the contents out on the comforter in order to search for what she needed. She grabbed her last pair of jeans, almost white from numerous washings, and a ribbed, dark red sleeveless tank top. There was the final washed set of socks that actually matched, and a strapless black bra. All of which were the last items of clothing she could expect to wear until she had a chance to wash everything else.

“Damn,” she murmured as she realized she didn’t have any clean underwear. That had been the one article of clothing she had never worn more than once and now she didn’t have any to wear. Everything else was in the little Ziploc baggies waiting for laundering.

Such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but it was one thing too much, and Liz broke down and sobbed. She tried to stay quiet, but the events of the last few months, years actually, finally caught up with her. She lay there collapsed and pressing against the side of the bed, and she wept as if she would never be whole again. She cried for the loss of innocence, for the unnecessary deaths, for having been stupid enough to believe that there was even something worth saving in Tess. And perhaps she would never again be whole, maybe the broken pieces of her heart, soul, and mind would never again be the same.

~~~

“What did ya think ya was doing?” Lonnie growled, glaring turbulently at her sibling. It was just like him to think with his dick than the intelligent brain their ‘creators’ had seen fit to bestow upon them.

Rath was a steady presence at her side and in her mind, for once the calm and practical one, while she paced the confines of the kitchen in irritation.

Easy, Princess, Rath cautioned, gentle yet firmly.

“Doin’ what?” Zan remarked, ignoring her glare and ire in favor for raiding the carton of orange juice Ava had placed on the table as she got supplies and ingredients out to make breakfast.

Generally the four square didn’t make a big production out of breakfast, usually some leftover pizza or take out would do, but Ava had thoughtfully wanted to do something their guest would think of as ‘normal’ and hopefully put some part of her to ease. She wasn’t a bad cook, but then again, the cookbook had instructions simple enough even Rath could use it and not char the intended meal. Besides…how hard could pancakes be to make?

“Yo, ya were in der fer like eva!” Lonnie growled again, this time her glare and look were reproachful. She had her suspicions about what her brother had been doing; both viable options involved his mouth and hands getting the better of him and causing problems.

Zan cocked an eyebrow at her as he guzzled the juice straight from the carton but made no effort to allay his sister’s fears. He hadn’t done anything wrong, least not from his point of view, and he wasn’t going to apologize to anyone.

Apparently, Liz didn’t think so, Roswell snorted, pleased he had been vindicated by Liz’s actions a few times in the span of such a short while.

Shut up, cornball, Zan and Alien King Zan both snarled, neither happy at that particular thought.

A wave of such guilt, sorrow, and grief hit him hard through his connection with Liz he spluttered and choked on his juice, pulling the carton away from his mouth to wipe his mouth and cough. His head tilted to the side as he worked to damp down the intensity of the bond enough so he wasn’t as immediately close to her emotions as he had been previously.

“This bond stuff is going to take a lot of work,” he wheezed the last of his juice out of his lungs, grimacing at the burn in his windpipe. He gave another cough.

Rath couldn’t help it. He started to snicker, and those turned into a deep, full-throated belly laugh. He’d been concerned initially as his King started choking but then he realized it was just ‘adjustments’ as Zan had remarked once. Rath started to smirk as he recalled the early days when he and Lonnie had recently bonded, the ‘adjustments’ they had had to make dealing with such an intimate connection, some quite embarrassing, and learning to balance a constant awareness without getting sucked into the emotion of the moment.

“Payback’s a b’tch, and she’s a Calling ta ya’s,” Rath started laughing all over, leaning his butt against the countertop and bracing him against the power of his amusement.

Lonnie caught Rath’s thought, snorting, and trying not to show it amused her as much as it did, but Rath knew. He grinned at his mate, eyes sparkling, bringing to mind several times when he’d wanted to wring his pseudo brother’s neck, King or no, for the reminders of something he was only now going to find out about. Ah, something told him that he was going to enjoy this immensely.

“Bad connection, duke?” Ava snickered having caught on.

“Ha freakin’ ha,” Zan glared at the three, who remained unimpressed with his wrathfulness. Familiarity seemed to have bred immunity.

“Go, finds out what’s got yer gal affectin’ ya dis way and bring ‘er out,” Lonnie waved her brother in dismissal.

“So glad Iz gots yer permission, Princess,” Zan grumbled at his sibling who just gave a smirk that was remarkably similar to her mate’s.

“Whateva, yo highness,” Lonnie chuckled.

Zan shook his head, scowling and muttering ‘traitor’ to Ava’s delighted mirth, and stalked out the room, tossing the orange juice container in the trash on his way out. No one would want to drink the rest after he choked on it, leery he might have inadvertently backwashed while he hacked his guts out.

Some family they were.

~~~

[KiaraAlexisKlay]

Author's Note:

Hey y'all! It's good to be back in the saddle, writing again. If y'all didn't already know, last Monday I had a scare while driving, and I seriously believe that I could have died. Yeah, Not something I appreciated. I was going to work on this chapter last week but I had been so rattled I didn't write at all. I already had my crossover story chapter already written so the only thing I did story wise was post that, and make comments here and there on the board, but other than that I've been trying to get my groove back on.

Consider me grooving, at least for tonight, Lol. Thanks y'all for your wonderful feedback, and for sticking with me so far. I hope that this chapter makes up for everything.

Semper Fidelis,
Kristin

~~~
Chapter 8
~~~

Liz forced herself to stop crying not too long after she started. As much as she would have loved to indulge in a real cleansing flood of tears, some part of her knew and realized that Zan would be back if she didn’t make an appearance soon. She also instinctively knew that he would be storming in here to see what was taking her so long whether she was dressed or not.

Deciding she had been vulnerable in front of this man too long and once too often, she quickly dropped the towel and pulled on her jeans. It was the first time she’d ever went ‘commando’ and she made a face at the unfamiliar sensation of the denim seams rubbing against flesh that normally had a thin cotton barrier between it and the fabric. She quickly slipped on her bra, thankful to have that at least. She unwrapped the bandages on her arm and had just pulled the tank top on when a loud knock on the door made her jump.

“H-hello?” she stammered, though she had a good idea who was knocking on her door.

“Ya aiight, Angel?”

“Y-yes. Why, why wouldn’t I be? And my name is Liz!”

Liz inwardly cursed her cracking voice even as a traitorous part of her thrilled at the concern in Zan’s voice. Well…at least she hoped there was concern hidden in the negligent, bored sounding tone he had used, as if he were talking about something generic or bland. There was a silence and Liz recognized a ‘thinking’ silence when she heard one. She had them often herself and it was fairly easy to recognize. She found herself wondering what he was thinking about.

Ya sounds like ya’s heart iz broke.

“What the fu--!” Liz gave a shriek as she heard the voice in her head, too clear and non-muffled to have come from the door. She gave a wide-eyed glance toward the door, but no, it was solidly closed shut. Then how…?

She swore she heard Zan’s chuckle and breath tickle the back of her neck, goosebumps rising to attention. Sudden fury overwhelmed her and she stormed over to the door, yanking the heavy wood open, prepared to raise hell and stopped abruptly before she ran into the lean chest in her immediate vision.

Tilting her head back too quickly her vision swam and she felt faint, and a few seconds later she found herself coming to with a pair of strong arms wrapped about her and golden eyes peering down at her.

Ya aiight, Angel?

“Haven’t we done this before?” she managed, still feeling slightly disoriented. She was rewarded with Zan’s deep-throated chuckle, something she could feel vibrate with her body so close to his, and marveled at the sensation.

Sensation Iz can do, and haf’ no problem wit, Sweets, that honeyed voice came again to her mind as a work roughened hand adjusted its grip on her, pulling her in tighter with one arm while the other reached up and just like earlier, followed the same path with a barely there caressing with his fingers.

Liz didn’t have the strength to bitch at him for being in her mind again; all she was aware of was the fact she was pressed securely against a soft but firm, muscled body, and her hands were currently grasping toned arms; thumbs absentmindedly rubbing undeterminable designs against the bronzed biceps and her own body curving once more to get as close as possible.

“Zan! Hows long does it takes to retrieve one gal from a bedroom?!”

Liz jumped slightly at the Isabel-yet-not-Isabel’s voice that carried down the hall. She swore Zan literally growled and his eyes glowed softly as he turned his neck to focus in the direction the voice came from.

“Don’t,” Liz touched his arms again, this time with a sense of urgency. That look hadn’t boded well for the voice. Not Isabel or not, Liz wasn’t about to let her former boyfriend’s sister’s double take the flak from her former boyfriend’s double.

“’Kay, nows dat was a funky sentence,” Zan turned those glowing eyes on the girl he still held in his arms, absently noticing how right it felt to embrace her.

“It made sense to me. Besides, what are you doing in my head anyway?”

“Doin’ what comes natural,” da Man smirked.

“Well…naturalize yourself with someone else.”

“But ya fit meh, so well, Angel,” he crooned, his grin holding wicked intention and innuendo.

“I do not!”

“Really?” Zan arched a barbell pierced brow toward her, still holding on to that wicked grin.

“Really.” Liz’s stomach gave an unexpectedly loud rumble and both the arguing parties looked down past their interlocked arms to where her stomach was pressed close to his abdomen. It rumbled again.

“Well, Iz takes it ya fainted fer a reason otha den seein’ my hotness.”

“Of all the-! Not everything is about you!” Liz tried to jerk away from him but Zan held fast, easily keeping her confined.

“Let go of me, right now!”

“Relax, Iz ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Liz fumed and looked up at him.

“So what are you going to do?” she all but growled.

“This.”

Liz gave that little shriek only girls can achieve as she was abruptly tossed upward and she clutched the nearest solid object: in this case it was Zan. Her arms automatically curled around his neck as her world tilted on its axis. It took a few steps before she realized she was being carried bridal style down a hallway and she loosened her death grip around Zan’s neck to peek around, curiously.

It looked as if they were in a warehouse, one that had been converted into a very cosy yet still utterly modern New York crib. They were on the ground floor and Liz couldn’t help but think that with all this open space and large windows Michael would have been in artists’ heaven.

She grimaced at that thought. Hopefully all Good Aliens went to Heaven, and if that were the case, she’d enjoy having the opportunity to see or send the Bad Alien to meet the guy she sold her soul to at the price of her friend’s blood.

“Where we going?” Liz asked just as the smell of something good hit her nostrils. The scent of bacon, eggs, and pancakes caused another round of tummy rumbling and she felt more than saw the amused concern Zan felt for her.

“How long since ya last ate, Angel?” he asked, all serious, and Liz couldn’t help but respond to the kindness and concern.

“I don’t remember,” she admitted. Actually, that wasn’t exactly one hundred percent true, but it was close enough. She had a niggling suspicion of when, but whenever she tried to concentrate on it, the memory slipped away while leaving her to feel pain, sorrow, grief, and regret.

Zan wisely decided to let it pass, and concentrated on getting his girl something to eat. They came to the kitchen and for a moment, Zan paused to take a breath. He wasn’t concerned about himself, oh no! He was da Man and nothing fazed him. However, the little Angel in his arms wasn’t exactly ready to fight again and he hated bringing her in so weak, and knowing his sister, he knew there would be a battle even if it wasn’t her intention.

But his Angel Liz’s stomach rumbled again and that decided him. He didn’t care what his crew thought, he wasn’t going to let his girl expire from hunger. She needed him.

Squaring his shoulders and ignoring Liz’s inquiring look, just thankful she hadn't asked him about the delay, he marched into the kitchen.

~~~