Finished stories set in an alternate universe to that introduced in the show, or which alter events from the show significantly, but which include the Roswell characters. Aliens play a role in these fics. All complete stories on the main AU with Aliens board will eventually be moved here.

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Post by dreamangel » Sun Apr 20, 2003 4:54 pm


Well, this was just perfect. She stared with disgust at the now useless spaceship that had decided to die out right as she was entering Earth’s atmosphere. Luckily she had managed to activate the landing boosters and she had landed, with her precious cargo, safely. Only now she was stuck with the hunk of metal.

Serena found herself in the middle of a desert, similar to the one she had grown up in, and completely lost. And to top it all off, she had no idea where on Earth she was. So, she decided to leave the ship where it was. After all, when the time came to go back to Antar, she’d be using the Granolith with her sister and the Royals.

She tucked the vials of essences into the belt strapped around her trim waist and then dragged the child-sized canister housing her growing, back-up Skin out of the ship and hoisted it into her arms. She looked over a few yards to the small cave in one of the numerous scattered rock cliffs and hauled it over, hiding her protection for the time being.

Once the spot was marked, Serena checked the vials again to make sure they were intact and then picked a direction and started walking. Hopefully she’d find some semblance of civilization on this planet.

The year was 1983, and she’d learned from investigating, that there was a supposed UFO crash that occurred in 1947. She was thirty-six years too late. Damn that system malfunction!

But there was nothing she could do about it. She had no doubt that the Paerhnians had already landed on Earth and had already started their search four the Royal Four. She’d just have to find them before their enemies could.

Unfortunately, she had business to take care of first. She had settled down in Roswell, New Mexico, a small town not far from the crash site, under the name of Serena Zion. She had managed to achieve a position at Roswell Memorial Hospital, and was now working on finding suitable vessels for the precious essences, as well as maintaining a search for anyone resembling Zan, Vilandra, Rath, or Ava.

As yet, there had been no sign of any of them and Serena was deathly afraid they had already been born and had grown to adulthood without their true mates. She needed to implant her sister’s soul quickly and then perform a more extensive search. She had to find Zan. She just had to.

October, 1983

The first opportunity presented itself a few months after she had settled. Young Deputy Jim Valenti, and his pretty wife, Michelle, had come in for an ultrasound. Serena could tell by the vibes surrounding the couple that they were worried.

They explained to her, as she set up the equipment, that Michelle had been going into false labor contractions, and she was only in her fifth month. So they had scheduled this appointment in hopes of discovering if something was seriously wrong and finding a way to prevent it.

Serena smiled at them calmly and assured them that there was probably no complications, that false labor often occurred in women with their first child, but that she’d check just to be sure.

She spread the gel across the small woman’s abdomen, ripe with pregnancy, and then started to search out the child within. She stared at the image on screen with a nurse’s intensity, judging the child with both her eyes and her empathic mind.

The parents were also staring with rapt attention at the tiny figure revealed. It was a boy, large, which accounted for the false contractions, but it did not have a strong spirit. She gave a small frown, one that caused Michelle to grab her arm.

“What is it? Is something wrong with my baby?” she demanded.

Serena gave her a reassuring smile and sent out soothing vibes to the woman. “No Mrs. Valenti, nothing is wrong with your son.”

“A son,” Jim whispered, then he grinned, “Ha, told you Michelle.”

His wife rolled his eyes, “Fine, we can name him Kyle James.” But then she gave a little pout.

Jim smiled at her, and then turned to Serena, “She wanted it to be a girl, hand a whole list of names planned out. Finally decided on Kayla. Kyle was the closest I could come up with to suit her.” He gave his wife another smile, and this time she smiled back.

Serena smiled too. “Your contractions are caused by his size, he’s got the makings of a football player.” If he survived, and she was determined he would, as Kayl.

“That’s my boy,” Jim crowed.

“Deputy Valenti, if you could please step out of the room while I get your wife cleaned up…” Serena suggested, “It might be best if you make sure the bathroom down the hall is clear, I’m sure Mrs. Valenti has a full bladder by now that desperately needs relieving…”

Jim looked to his wife, who nodded and he rushed from the room to find the bathroom for her. Michelle gave Serena a grateful look. She returned it with a half smile and took out one of the vials, the one housing Kayl’s essence. She removed the cap and then turned to Michelle, who was trying to sit up.

Serena helped her up and took a cloth over her belly to clean up the gel, resting the hand containing the vial on the now clean area of skin. The uncapped needle pierced Mrs. Valenti’s abdomen easily and painlessly, puncturing straight into the dying boy’s little body.

Then she took her hand away and handed Michelle her jeans, opened the door and pointed in the direction of the bathroom and anxiously waiting husband, and said good-bye.

One down, three to go.

March, 1984

The second opportunity came a month after Kyle James Valenti, Kayl’s resurrection, was born into the world. It came in the form of one nineteen-year-old, spunky, girl that went by the name of Amy DeLuca.

The auburn-haired young woman had come in for the results of her pregnancy test, and was now fidgeting on the examining table while Serena listened through a stethoscope to her still flat stomach.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. The tiny being just forming in this girl’s body had just began to have its heart start beating, but it had not yet formed its soul. It was still a vessel, waiting to be filled, and Serena suspected Ria would be more than a match for the talkative Amy.

“I can’t believe I’m pregnant. This cannot be happening to me. My mom’s gonna kill me. Oh my God,” she babbled, “And Tom isn’t gonna want to keep the baby…”

“There is the option of an abortion,” Serena put in, hoping Amy wouldn’t take it.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at Serena with horrified blue-green eyes. “Are you actually suggesting I kill my baby?” she demanded in an unnaturally high, shocked tone of voice.

“It’s just an option,” she pointed out gently.

“Not for me,” Amy declared, “I don’t care what you say, or my mother says, or even what Tom says. This is my baby, and I’m keeping it.” Her voice rose slightly in pitch. “And don’t think I can’t take care of it. I can. I am more than capable of providing for this child.” She nodded decisively. “That’s right, I don’t need Tom, or my parents.” She looked down at her stomach, hidden by the paper apron. “Just you and me baby,” she said.

Serena raised an eyebrow as Amy continued ranting. She took Ria’s essence vial from the remaining three, of which she always kept close at hand, and uncapped the needle, and turned back to Amy, who was still rambling on.

“I hope it’s a girl,” she was saying, “I wouldn’t want to go through all this business of being pregnant for a boy. Boys are trouble, that’s what my mom says. Now, if only I had listened to her. Then I probably wouldn’t even be in this mess. I hate that,” she said crossly, “I hate it when my mother’s right. It’s so annoying, she gets all self-righteous and all, ‘Amy, I told you-’ OW!” she shrieked, jumping away from Serena and rubbing her abdomen. “What was that for?”

“That,” Serena said, smirking, “was to calm you down.”


Serena smiled, “You’re all set Miss DeLuca. Just put your clothes on and pay at the front desk.” She made her way to the door.

“Nurse…” Serena turned, curious. Amy looked at her, arms full of clothes, “What would you name your baby, if you had a girl?”

Another smile, “Maria.”

June, 1984

Three months after Amy DeLuca had come in, Serena was in a birthing room, assisting a doctor with an older woman’s labor. She looked to be in her mid-forties, not an ideal time to have a child, as it made the birth more difficult.

As was proving the case in this instance. Sarah Whitman was bleeding to death from a hemorrhage, and it was obvious to Serena and the doctor that neither the mother, nor the child were expected to survive.

Charles Whitman was holding onto his wife’s hand as she screamed, helpless tears running down his cheeks. “I love you, Sarah,” he whispered.

Serena felt like crying herself, this man would never hold his wife again, and there was the extreme possibility he’d never be able to hold his newborn son either. Inspiration struck and she moved slightly away from the bloody scene, where the doctor was ordering Mrs. Whitman to push.

She found Lexus’ vial and uncapped it. Mrs. Whitman gave one last shout from the hospital bed and Serena whirled as the woman went limp and lifeless on the bed. The doctor turned to her, eyes solemn, and held out the stillborn body of the child. She took it carefully and turned again, placing it on the cleaning table. She could hear the doctor sighing and talking softly to a sobbing Mr. Whitman.

Blocking the painful sounds of his tears, Serena slowly and delicately inserted the needle into the baby’s cold skin. She waited a few moments for Lex’s soul to permeate the tiny body, and then sent a swift prayer to Eros and God alike and raised the baby by the ankles, giving it a light slap.

The cry of a healthy baby boy echoed through the room, and the doctor and Mr. Whitman looked over to where she stood, screaming child in her arms, identical expressions of amazement on their faces.

She walked over to the distraught husband and laid the blanket-swathed little boy in his father’s arms. Charles stared down at him in awe.

“It’s a miracle,” the doctor whispered.

Serena ignored him and gave Mr. Whitman a gentle smile, “What are you going to call him?”

“Alexander,” he replied absently, playing with the baby’s small hands. He looked at his dead wife and tears sprung to his eyes. “Sarah…Sarah wanted to call him Alex.”

December, 1984

It was ten months since Kayl had been born again, six since Lexus, and one since Ria. And yesterday, December 7th, 1984, Elizabeth Parker had been born to Jeff and Nancy Parker.

It was dark in the Intensive Care Unit as Serena stared down at the premature infant. She was so tiny, and yet so exquisitely perfect. She reminded Serena of Kalila when she had first been born, and figured it was no coincidence that this child would die without Kalila’s strong spiritual influence.

Very carefully, she took out the last vial of essence from its hiding place and uncapped the needle. Then she reached her hands into the gloves, the needle piercing through the material, and injected Kalila’s soul into the little girl.

There, she thought, now they’d both live. And she kissed the case keeping the baby safe from outside infections. “Hello, little sister,” she breathed.

Once Serena had made sure the babies would be safe she began preparing to leave. They would grow up human, normal, but with the souls of those who had lived before. She knew where the Parkers, Valentis, Whitmans, and DeLucas lived, and she had little doubt they would be moving from Roswell, so she could check up on the children if the need called for it.

But she couldn’t stay in Roswell. People would notice when she didn’t age, and she did need to look for the Royals. She needed to bring them back to their soulmates. So she safeguarded her Skin in the desert cave and went on her way.

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Post by dreamangel » Sun Apr 20, 2003 4:55 pm


He couldn’t breathe. It was the first thing that came to his now conscious mind. He was aware of his surroundings, thick and oppressive. He extended his arms through the heavy fluid and clawed at the membrane barrier that was keeping him stuck, dying… It resisted, and he pushed harder, frantic to escape.

His head came through first, and he took his first breath of the life-giving oxygen with relief. Looking up, his eyes fell on two other beings, one impatient, the other just staring at him mournfully.

When he was finally free, the little girl with her sad eyes smiled and held her hand out for his. He hesitated, and the impatient boy opened a door and left. Still, he waited.

Turning now, he placed his hand on the pod beside his, the sticky goo leaving a trail on the green casing. He stared at the female being surrounded by amber light, still asleep and unaware. He was confused, without even knowing what confusion was, and therefore could not label the feeling as such, but he knew in his soul.

She wasn’t right.

As she was of no consequence, not being that whom he sought, he finally took the other girl, his sister’s, hand, and she led him fearlessly into their new world.

They were lost. She acknowledged this to her brother without words, and he agreed. But still they wandered; tired, hungry, and hot and cold by turns.

She was always on the lookout for the other boy, the one that had left them. She knew he belonged with them. He was another brother.

When he found them again, she could tell he was scared, and so could her brother. So he scrambled up the rock face to the defiant boy and brought him back down to her, where she embraced them both.

Then they clasped hands, her first brother in the middle, for she and her second brother knew instinctively that they had to keep him safe, and they began walking. She was content. Everything was all right now. They were together.

Hours, though she had no sense of time, later, when the dark had come again, the three were walking hand-in-hand beside a strange substance unlike the crumbling ground beneath their feet. A low, rumbling noise came, and bright lights appeared behind them. Her second brother bolted, frightened, and she could tell her first brother was scared too, but he stayed, gripping her hand tighter as they turned toward the two spots of light.

She felt no fear as the two large beings came toward them, exclaiming in a language she couldn’t understand, and picking them up. She gave her brother a smile when they had to let go of each other. They clung instead to these new beings, looking at each other, and then she shot a look into the darkness they were leaving and caught sight of him, staring after them.

She wanted them to go back, and tried to tell the woman carrying her about the brother they were leaving behind, but she couldn’t make her understand.

Diane Evans waited impatiently, pacing the length of them room over and over until her husband finally took her yellow sweater-clad arm and made her sit down. “It’ll be all right, honey,” he soothed, “I’ve got everything all worked out.”

She didn’t look at him, just stared at the door that her children would be coming through as soon as they had packed up their meager belongings. She didn’t see the point, she had everything they would need at home, she had made sure of it, now she just wanted her children back in her arms.

It had been nearly two years since she and Phillip had found the two naked children abandoned on the roadside. They had taken them to an orphanage just outside Roswell, and the little girl had clung to her as the officials took her away. Diane had looked into those imploring eyes and felt her heart break.

“We’ll be back, sweetie,” she had promised, “We’ll be back and we’ll take you home and you’ll never have to leave it again.”

The girl just looked at her mutely, but she seemed to relax a bit. Diane had been worried, these children couldn’t speak, they didn’t seem to know anything about the world, they… She couldn’t believe someone had just left these two precious children alone to wander the desert. But it didn’t matter, they were hers now, she’d make sure of it.

When they got home that night all Diane had done was look at her husband and he knew. “Diane,” he said cautiously, “You know we’ve only just started thinking about adoption, and there are other kids…Ones in China and Korea who need more love and attention…”

She bit her lip, knowing it was true, but… “Phillip, I want those children.”

He gave a deep sigh and gave her a smile that crinkled his eyes, “So do I Di, so do I.”

Phillip began making full scale inquires, but no one showed up claiming the two kids, and he rushed the adoption papers by using contacts in the Departments. Diane would normally berate him for pulling influence, but she was encouraging him ever step of the way on this one, she wanted those two in her house, calling her Mom, smiling at her…

Finally, Phillip had told her to find something to do, that she was annoying him, so she decorated. She redid two guest rooms in the big house, lavender for the girl, and dark blue for the boy.

And then finally, after so long, the papers had gone through and now they sat, waiting.

She flipped nervously through the folders again, wanting to know everything about their time here.

They had named the girl Isabel, which she thought appropriate, for Isabel would indeed be a gift to her. Isabel was outgoing, she had taken to everything quickly and made a lot of friends, but was extremely protective of her brother. They had judged her age, when found, to be seven. So that would make her nine now, Diane mused.

The boy was called Max, and he was very shy, but very intelligent. He didn’t speak often, and then only to his sister or to the adults, but it was always in a quiet way, but the tone was very self-controlled, and almost commanding. He enjoyed looking at the stars, and had already read every book in the orphanage library. He had been judged to be a year younger than Isabel, which would mean he was eight now.

Teachers provided at the orphanage had home-schooled the two, teaching them to talk and count and do other things that came naturally to kids their age. Max and Isabel had absorbed it all in a minimal amount of time and had been deemed able to start school in the correct grade this year, which only gave Diane about a month to register them, buy school supplies, a whole new wardrobe…

The door opened and the two children were escorted in by their social worker. Diane and Phillip stood and met them halfway across the room. She knelt, eyes on Isabel. “Hi sweetie,” she greeted, “I’m Diane, and I’m going to be you’re new Momma, would you like that?”

A sweet smile broke out in Isabel’s small face, her brown eyes began to sparkle, and she threw her arms around Diane. “I would like that very much,” she said softly, in perfect English. Then she stood back and looked at her brother. “This is my brother Max,” she stated, poking him in the arm, “He’s shy, but I’m not. I’m Isabel, by the way.”

Diane looked at Max now, who was regarding her and Phillip warily. “Hi Max,” she said gently, because he looked about ready to bolt, “I’m Diane and this is Phillip, you remember us, right?” He gave a reluctant nod. She smiled, “Well, we’re going to take you home now, and we’re going to be a family. Is that alright with you?”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her with those unearthly brown eyes, the flecks of gold and amber in them turning to liquid. She felt like he was trying to see into her soul, to judge her, and she held his gaze, hoping he could understand they were trying to help. To provide the love, protection, and family he and his sister deserved.

“Max!” Isabel burst, sounding exasperated. She put her little hands on her on hips and tossed her short blond hair, tapping her foot impatiently. Diane repressed a smile at her attitude, but noticed Phillip couldn’t, and she gave her husband a light smack. Isabel was talking to her brother in a hushed, hurried tone, and Diane only caught snippets of the conversation. Isabel said something about the sun, a family, and don’t mess this up dork, before Max rolled his eyes and turned back to Diane and Phillip, ignoring his sister.

He stepped forward, glancing between the two grown-ups, and took Diane’s hand. “We’ll come.” Tears suddenly sprung to her eyes and she had no idea why. It was something about his tone, quiet and confident, as if… Yes, she looked into his eyes as Phillip picked up Isabel and they made their way to the Evans’ car, Max had an old soul.

There was something in him she’d never be able to touch, something in him that didn’t need a mother, but until he recognized that part of him… She’d be there for him, holding, comforting, loving…

Because from this moment on, he was her son.

He muttered fitfully to himself as he entered the pod chamber. Those damn government agents had delayed his return. Insufferable humans! One day he would have to take care of that pesky Agent Summer. The man was a hound. He could only hope-

Damn, damn, damn!!

Nasedo let out a long string of expletive phrases and stalked over to the last remaining pod. His daughter hung in suspension, blond hair floating in the stasis gel, eyes closed. But all the other pods were empty. Prince Zan was gone, Princess Vilandra was gone, and Commander Rath was gone…

He cursed again and stuck his murderous hands through the membrane. Ava’s eyes shot open, startling blue against the paleness of her face. Panic crossed her sprite-like features and he pulled her out.

She clung to him as she desperately sucked in oxygen. He cleaned her off as best he could and picked her up. They would have to lay low for a while, the Special Unit was still hot on his trail, and when they were safe as he cold manage, they would start a search for the other three.

He would have to fill her head with stories of her and Zan, get her to believe in her destiny, and then she would get pregnant with his child, his heir, and Nasedo would be able to seal his deal with Kivar.

Nasedo had already made plans in a small town in Montana, where the recently widowed Edward Harding would show up with his small, motherless daughter, Tess. He would get a consulting job with the incompetent government, that way he could get details on the Special Unit and decide which moves would work in his favor.

He’d plot more later, but right now… He did a quick shape change, turning into a middle-aged gentleman. Ava, no, Tess, stared up at him. He had to remember human names, the Paerhnians would be looking for an Ava, not a Tess, and he had no intention of letting Nicholas find them until he had Zan in his pocket!

Ed Harding picked up his daughter. He had clothing in his rented car, and then he would get plane tickets, and he could take her away. He had a long road ahead of him. He would need to teach her English, essentials, destiny, and the inferiority of humans…

He told her all this as they drove toward the Albuquerque airport, hours ahead of the pursuing agents. She didn’t understand a word of it, she merely watched him with his eyes, trusting him to protect her.

It was the first day of third grade, and already Michael thought school sucked big time. In fact, his whole life sucked big time, it had all gone downhill when he let go of her hand.

A rancher outside town had found him, drinking out of a cattle watering hole. The rancher had brought him to the local orphanage and since then he’d been bounced from foster home to foster home. He’d been a bouncy ball for two damn years!

And now he was with Hank. Hank who lived in a trailer park. Hank who only kept him around for the monthly checks. Hank who used that money, not for taking care of Michael, but for beer. Hank who came home drunk every night and beat him.

And now this. School. Where the other kids snubbed him because he had torn jeans and ratty black T-shirts. Where teachers either looked at him with those pitying smiles, or glared at him suspiciously.

Mr. Trevors was of the latter group. That was why Michael was taken out of the lunch line arguing with him.

“The cafeteria will not take your food stamps,” he told Michael.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “They’re for food, aren’t they?” he demanded. Food stamps got him food, it was as simple as that, and he was starving right now, he hadn’t had any breakfast this morning, or dinner last night. To hell with this guy!

He felt himself tense up. He hated Mr. Trevors. He hated the way he talked to him, the way he treated him. He hated his scraggly mustache and that stupid, stupid comb over. He hated-

The lip under the scraggly mustache was curling, and Mr. Trevors gave him an angry glare. “I don’t take lip from welfare punks,” he snarled.

That uncontrollable anger welled up in Michael. He wondered what Mr. Trevors would do if Michael kicked his balls up into his throat, and was about to find out, when he felt someone watching him. It was like someone had turned a heat lamp on on the back of his neck. He turned around, and there she was.

She was sitting at a table, all by herself, and she was staring right at him. Michael left Mr. Trevors huffing by the lunch line and walked over to her. It was like he was being drawn to her by some unseen force. They had a connection. He sat down and they stared at each other some more, and then a sparkle crept into her big brown eyes, and she pushed her tray over to him.

“You can have my lunch,” she said.

Michael stared at her in awe and then snatched the tray, afraid she’d take the offer back, but she didn’t. She watched him eat, smiling, and he knew she was different. She wanted him around, and people only wanted you around when they liked you, or if they wanted to use you, but he didn’t have anything to give her, so she had to like him.

“I’m Isabel,” she told him importantly, tossing her blond head, “Isabel Evans.”

“Michael Guerin,” he mumbled around the food.

A bright smile lit her face. “Michael,” she repeated.

“Isabel,” he acknowledged.

Her smile grew and she reached over, giving his hand a squeeze before moving it back to rest on the table in front of her. “My brother’s name is Max. He couldn’t come today because he was up all last night. He’ll be sorry though, we’ve both missed you so much.” Tears came into her eyes, but she was still smiling. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Michael’s jaw dropped, and he realized abruptly that the girl sitting next to him was her. That she was the hand-holder he had run from. And she had been worried about him, she had missed him, and so had her brother, the little boy he had felt the need to protect. They were both different than.

And just like that, Michael Guerin’s life changed.

Max Evans stared out the window of the bus, concentrating on the landscape flying by in an attempt to ignore Isabel’s incessant chatter. She kept going on and on about how fantastic her new friends were and what was considered the “in” style, whatever that meant.

Max didn’t care. The only thing remotely interesting she had said since she came home yesterday was that she’d found him, their brother. His name was Michael Guerin, she had said, and Max would meet him today.

They were different, the three of them, he and Isabel had known it and had made a pact never to tell. Michael would have to promise too. They couldn’t do anything to call attention to themselves, and they couldn’t trust anyone but each other.

Isabel argued with him on that point, she wanted to tell Mom and Dad, she said they could trust them, but Max said no. They had made their pact, and they would keep it, it didn’t matter that they weren’t in the orphanage anymore, they were still different, and there was a possibility their new parents wouldn’t understand that. He didn’t want them to be afraid of him and Isabel, he didn’t want them to stop loving them.

His thoughts drifted back to the night before. Momma had come to his room and handed him a present. It was a toy house, small but detailed, and she had told him that it was a magic house, and that if he held onto it, it would take him home.

He knew she had only done it because she was upset that he was crying every night. She hadn’t let him go to school yesterday because he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He understood he needed to stop, but sometimes, at night, everything just seemed so wrong, and he couldn’t help it. Momma or Isabel would come in and hold him, but they felt wrong too…

Max didn’t know what it was. Isabel had cried for a few weeks at the beginning, because they had lost Michael, but she had gotten over it. Max couldn’t. He wanted to go home, where everything felt right, where someone was holding him in her arms and she felt perfect...

But that house would never be able to bring him home, because he didn’t know where home was. He couldn’t remember anything but the feel of being in her arms… Whoever she was.

“Max,” Isabel said, tugging on his arm as the bus began to slow, “We’re here.” He got up and followed his sister down the bus steps, annoyed with her enthusiasm and the kid behind him for pushing. They jumped to the ground and stood a few feet away from the bus door, him uncomfortable, and she impatiently.

He had missed the first day of school, the one where Momma would have driven him and taken him to the office, and today she had an early brunch scheduled with Grandma, and so he had to rely on Isabel to get him settled, which she was happy about because she had the need to solidify her base of friendship with the popular girls, or something…

He sighed and gave a half-hearted look around the playground. There were screaming masses of children everywhere and he was feeling kind of intimidated, he was shy. Or, as the psychology book in his dad’s home office stated, anti-social.

Max turned his head in another direction, and caught Isabel looking around wildly, he had the impression she was looking for Michael, and turned to follow the direction of her abruptly still stare. There was a brief glimpse of a small dark figure under a tree, before his attention focused wholly on a tableau in front of it.

The scene wasn’t anything special, there was a blond girl and a brunette playing rock-paper-scissors, which was a game Dad had taught him recently to settle arguments with Isabel so that she didn’t feel the need to hit him over the head with a shovel the next time he said something to bother her, and they were laughing…

But he suddenly felt something click within him as he stared at the brown-haired girl. He understood now what Momma meant when she said Isabel was beautiful. This girl was beautiful, with her long dark hair and laughing chocolate eyes.

This girl was right.

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Post by dreamangel » Sun Apr 20, 2003 4:56 pm

KALILA Epilogue

Liz Parker balanced the tray carefully, she and Maria had been working at her parents’ diner, the Crashdown Café, since they turned fourteen, first as busgirls, and now as waitresses, and she pretty much had the balancing act down, but sometimes people’s lunches felt like falling on the floor.

She steadied the tray and continued walking, an easy smile on her face as she faced the customers. “Okay, I have got one Sigourney Weaver, that’s for you, and one Will Smith.” She set the food down and gave them another overly-happy smile. “Can I get you guys anything else? Green Martian Shake? Blood of Alien Smoothie?” She put a hopeful little lilt in her voice, and it was working, they were looking at each other indecisively…

But then the weird guy in the glasses shook his head, “No thanks, we’re good.”

So much for that, Liz thought, now she’d have to rely on the old ‘picture of an alien’ scam to get a bigger tip. “Are you guys here for the Crash Festival?” she asked, lowering her voice.

The woman nodded, “Yeah, can’t wait. So… Does your family come from Roswell?”

Liz held back a triumphant smile, they were making this so easy. “Just four generations,” she said modestly.

They exchanged another look. “Uh,” the guy began, “Well, does anyone in your family have stories about the UFO crash?”

Show time! She bit her lip hesitantly, and looked around. Her dad would kill her if he caught her, but he wasn’t there… Liz leaned forward conspiratorially, “Well,” she whispered, “I guess it would be okay to show you guys this…” she trailed off and placed an old black-and-white photo between them. Her friend Maria passed and gave her a headshake, she just smiled back.

“Refill?” She heard Maria ask.

“No, get outta here,” was the rude reply. Liz wanted to roll her eyes at Maria’s bad luck. She always got stuck with the scary weirdoes, whereas Liz got the harmless, gullible ones. Speaking of…

“My grandmother took this picture at the crash site right before the government cleaned it up,” she told them, voice still low.

“Do people know about this photograph?” the guy demanded eagerly.

“Well…I know about it,” she said, laying on the secrecy thick, “and now you know about it…”

“Woah,” the woman said, staring amazedly at the picture, “Wow.”

And she had them, she thought in satisfaction, she would receive another big tip to go into the ‘Harvard’ fund. “I’m gonna be right back, don’t show that to anyone,” she warned.

“No,” the blonde woman assured her in a hushed tone, and Liz walked back to the counter with a smirk on her face.

Maria joined her and placed the coffee pot back. “You are so bad girl,” she scolded, “Oh, and Max Evans is staring at you again.” She said the last part nonchalantly, as if it were an everyday occurrence.

“No way,” was Liz’s quick reply. She leaned against the counter and allowed her gaze to slide over to the booth where Max was sitting with his best friend Michael. “Maria, that is so in your imagination.” But then, he was looking at her, and their eyes met for an instant, and then those gorgeous honey-brown eyes slid away.

Max couldn’t like her, could he? Naw, there was no way. She was Little Lizzie Parker, of too big eyes and too small chest, the girl obsessed with science, her only claim to fame was dating Kyle Valenti, captain of both the basketball and the football JV teams. But Max… Max was the dark-haired, soulful-eyed, mystery man every girl in Roswell wanted to unravel.

And he was her lab partner. He was in a lot of her other classes too, but in Biology… He was hers to monopolize for forty-five minutes. She could memorize the line of his body as he bent over a microscope, the way his muscles played over his arm when he wrote notes, she could accidentally brush up against him when setting up the lab station, and she could stare at him all day through the corner of her eye as she took her own notes. Liz was good at multi-tasking. And it was true, she did happen to catch him staring a lot, and then she’d wonder for the rest of the day whether she had got pen on her face of something.

“Max Evans?” Liz repeated, “This?” She pointed to her face, which was a mask of disbelief, “No, uh-uh, it’s not-”

Maria interrupted, “And with those cheeks! Preciosita tan linda!” She reached up to pinch Liz’s cheeks, and Liz pushed her away, laughing.

“Maria!” she scolded, but then her tone lost it’s playfulness, “And…and even if it weren’t, I’m going out with Kyle. I mean, he’s steady and loyal, and he appreciates me.” And that was about the extent of good things she could say about her boyfriend, because boring wasn’t exactly a compliment now was it.

She was being harsh, Kyle was a great guy, and she had been thrilled when he asked her out the last day of school freshman year, but now…Well, there were only so many pairs of shoes a girl could lose to barf caused by extreme drunkenness.

Max wasn’t like that. True, she didn’t know a lot about Max, but she knew she’d never get tired of him, he’d never let her. And that was it, that was the truth. There was just something about Max Evans. Something about him that made her feel like he needed her. Something that made her want him to need her.

Maybe it was his “aura” as Maria termed it, his “vibe”. He seemed so shy and sweet, but he had this presence…so strong and commanding, but vulnerable too, as if sometimes he just needed someone to hold him when keeping his secrets got to be too much. And Liz desperately wanted to be that someone. For some reason she had the idea she was the only one who could provide him the solace he was looking for. But maybe that was just her obsession talking…

“Sounds like you’re describing a poodle,” Maria informed her dourly. Maria didn’t like Kyle. She pursed her lips as Maria began another round of patron checking.

“…you ask me to give you another day?!” one of the rude guys in Maria’s section exclaimed, standing, “You’re running outta time!” He put one beefy arm across the table and swept the plates and cups off, which shattered as they hit the floor.

“Liz!” Maria shrieked back to her, whether in warning or for direction Liz couldn’t figure out. She felt frozen, never before had the Crashdown witnessed a scene.

“I want the money today! Not tomorrow!” the first guy was shouting again.

She needed to do something, she needed-Oh God. Her brain became a muddled mass of confusion as the second guy pulled a gun. The men struggled with each other and everyone ducked for cover, but Liz couldn’t move, and then the gun was pointing right at her, and everything was fading…

The gunshot roared above his head and Max felt panic clench his gut. He heard the bell above the door jingle and looked up to see the shooters making a run for it. Everybody else had heard it too and were rising from their seats.


The whisper of Liz’s best friend Maria echoed over to his ears and he swung his head to where he had last seen his dream girl standing. He saw only white tennis shoes and smooth legs. The panic began again, beating in his head. Max got up, he needed to help her. She needed him.

A hand was suddenly on his chest, holding him back. He looked at Michael furiously, “What are you doing? Let go of me.”

“Max, what are you gonna do?” Michael demanded tensely, afraid Max would reveal their alien status to the world because of some girl. Max just pushed past him. He was going to do whatever was needed to keep Liz safe and alive. He kept his eyes on the girl he loved.

“Call and ambulance,” he ordered Maria, dragging her away from Liz. Then he knelt beside Liz, hands hovering for a moment over the blood-stained dress, then he ripped it open, and stared down at her. “Uhh,” for a second he was arrested by the sight of her bra, it was white, with red polka dots, and a spot of blood…Reminded of his mission, he tried to reassure her, “It’s gonna be okay.”

There were people in the background, Maria calling the ambulance, tourists, Michael keeping them back, protecting Max just as surely as he was protecting himself. Max ignored them, keeping his attention on Liz.

“Liz, LIZ! You have to look at me,” he told her urgently, “You have to look at me.” Her lashes fluttered wearily, and her dazed, but beautiful, brown eyes met his. He placed a hand on her abdomen and it was soon slick with her blood, and then he allowed himself to fall into the depths of those eyes, to form a connection.

Images flashes through his head of Liz as a child, one of her in a cupcake dress and another, of him, caught his interest, but he pushed them aside, concentrating instead on finding the bullet and repairing the damages it had caused in her.

He disconnected with a sigh, awareness of his surroundings suddenly seeped into his consciousness. He could feel Michael at his back, and a crowd of people beyond him, but mostly he could feel Liz, warm beneath him. He met her eyes, which were teeming with questions and some warmer emotion he couldn’t name. “You’re all right now,” he told her, “You’re all right.”

They were close enough to kiss…

“Keys! Now!” Michael called, jerking Max from his fantasy of what it would be like to kiss Liz Parker. He sat up and tossed the keys to his friend, then he looked around for a cover-up.

He grabbed a ketchup bottle and broke it on a shelf, dumping it over her, “You broke a bottle when you fell, spilled ketchup on yourself,” he met her confused eyes, pleading, “Don’t say anything please.”

He stood and ran for the exit, looking back at the door to see Maria standing beside her, asking if she was all right. Their eyes met again in that instant, she was staring at him with wonder, and he knew she wouldn’t tell.

Liz Parker was different.

In every ending, there is a beginning…