Thank you all for your patience.
Just want to take a moment to remind everyone to have a peek at the awesome banner, by dreamer19, on page 1. I think it's very moving, and really represents all that this story is about. I mention it also because in this chapter the meaning of the title will be explained.
There will also be more answers in chapter 7. After that, only the epilogue is left, so we're almost at the end.
For my generous and wonderful feedbackers:
nibbles - thank you. coming from you, tears are quite the compliment. And yes - they
all read the Twilight novels - there's been lots of time to kill in that van.
Alien Friend - Thank you so much. The little beginning parts are my favorite to write - I try and use them as a little foreshadowing as to what's coming in the actual "meat" of the chapter. And you made perfect sense! It is a tremendous compliment that reading this makes you want to create again - thank you. Also, glad you enjoyed the "layers" - that's just what I was going for. As for what it all means - this part will begin to explain that and Ch 7 will fill in all the other missing details.
keepsmiling7 - thanks for you feedback. As for the car and Kal - that will be explained here. The rest will be tied up in Chapter 7.
Smac - excellent deduction dear Watson. This part will answer many of the questions, and Chapter 7 will fill in the rest of the blanks. We knew the "what" of this story from the fist chapter - these two chapters will explain the more important "why". Thanks so much.
Much gratitude to all who are still reading.
Chapter 6
Ideologies separate us.
Dreams and anguish bring us together.
-Eugene Ionescu
In the days of old, before electricity, before machines, sword making was the most coveted of skills. It was a delicate talent, an art form.
A well made sword meant the difference between victory or defeat - life and death. The blades were forged in fire, shaped with mallets, then blazed again.
The hotter the fire, the stronger the sword.
There is no greater pain than the death of a child. It is the hottest of flames, a searing wound that does not heal, suffering that never ends. Like an amputee victim there is no true recovery - one must simply get used to living each day with the loss.
Two paths are opened for loved ones left behind. Some buckle under the pressure, and like an ill formed sword they crack and splinter.
But for others - others like my dear friends - grief forms a unique connection, a welding of souls.
There would never again be talk of separating. Before, they had been joined by secrecy, loyalty, but loss and anguish are infinitely stronger bonds.
None of them would ever again look to an outsider for comfort or counsel.
No one on earth would ever understand them as they understood each other - because no one on earth loved Charlie Evans as they did.
****************************************
They tried everything.
Holding hands, forming a circle, merging their powers. They discussed the healing stones destroyed that night in the desert, they contemplated going to the house to retrieve the book translation. Max tried again and again to heal him, but Charlie had yet to stir.
“Maybe we should try drinking water from the same cup?” Maria suggested.
It sounded so simple, almost foolish, but they were desperate, “When Michael was sick, that’s what Riverdog said, remember? That water connected us.”
Max wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Yeah. Let’s try that.”
Maria turned towards the sink across the room. But a voice from the doorway stopped her, startling them all.
“That won‘t work.”
Six stunned faces snapped towards the owner of the voice.
“Langley,” Max whispered.
“Langley?” Michael asked. “The shape shifter from LA?”
Kal’s gaze was trained on Max. “Yes.”
Isabel uttered her first words since the park.
Her voice was rushed and hopeful, “Oh thank God. You’re here. You can tell us how to help Charlie.”
Kal turned toward the beleaguered blond, and his expression softened, “There is no helping him, Princess.”
Isabel’s eyes squinted, “But there must…there must be a way…”
Max moved forward, putting himself between Langley and the others, knowing exactly what the shifter was capable of.
In a strong voice he demanded, “Tell me how to heal my son. And don’t lie.”
Kal’s expression turned blank, without sympathy, without malice. “You can’t heal him.”
Max staggered back, the words striking him like a blow to the chest, knowing Langley couldn’t defy a direct order.
But still he tried again, “Then you heal him.”
Langley shook his head, “I can’t.”
Max racked his brain, searching for the magic phrase, feeling like he was trapped in some morbid cat and mouse game of words.
“Tell me the name of someone who can. Anyone…anything…I‘ll do anything to save him.”
“The dead can‘t be healed, your majesty. It’s beyond even our capabilities.”
“No…” Liz moved in front of Max, chin high, eyes blazing. “No, you’re lying. You hate Max. You said you’d never stop hating him.”
“Be that as it may, it doesn’t change the fact…”
“You’re just trying to hurt us.”
Kal glanced beyond Max and Liz, at the small boy laying on the table.
He’d never liked children - selfish, needy little things. But he felt a camaraderie for the young Evans - almost an affection. Not unlike himself, the child’s fate was subject to the whim of greater forces - a pawn on a chessboard. Innocent…innocuous…helpless.
And so his words were sincere, “Truly, Elizabeth, I’m not. If it were in my power to change these things, I would.”
Liz clenched her jaw, “I don’t believe you.”
She turned her back on the shape shifter and said to Max, “Try again.”
Max nodded. He resumed his place at Charlie’s bedside and placed a glowing hand upon his chest.
Kal took a moment to observe each of them - reading their expressions - sizing up their place in the group. Elizabeth was the key. Max Evans was the leader, but it was she who pulled the strings. Where she followed, Max - and in turn the others - would go.
“Your child is dead Elizabeth.”
Liz closed her eyes against the words, “No.”
“He’s gone. There’s no spark. What’s laying on that table is just a body…a husk.”
This time she yelled, “Don’t call him that!”
“Max can’t bring him back. You know this, you’ve been here before. He couldn’t save Alexander Whitman and he cannot save your son.”
Liz shook her head, “We waited too long with Alex…he was too…this is different.”
Kal‘s voice lowered, insistent but not cruel. “He’ll die Liz. He’ll pour all of his energy, every ounce of his life force into that…empty vessel…and it will kill him. He’ll know it’s happening. He’ll feel his heartbeat slowing, his vision clouding, but he won’t stop. He’ll keep going. For you. Because his greatest fear is failing you again. You‘ve already lost your son, are you really so eager to make yourself a widow?”
Just then, Max collapsed. His knees gave out, and the steel table behind him crashed to the floor. Michael and Kyle came to his side, supporting him, holding him up by his arms.
And for the first time since it all began Liz looked at her husband - really looked at him. She saw his ashen skin, his sunken eyes, and a blanket of dread fell over her.
Because in that moment she knew Kal Langley spoke the truth.
About everything.
Somewhere, deep down, she’d known all along.
“I’m okay,” Max gasped. “I just…I just need a minute.”
Liz’s eyes found Langley’s once more. Searching for the tinest sliver of hope.
But there was none to be found.
“For what it’s worth,” He told her, “I am sorry.”
Shakily, Max stood. But before he could touch Charlie again Liz called to him brokenly.
“Max…”
He saw her face, her despair, her eyes already welling with grief. And he wanted to reassure her, to take her pain away. He wanted that so much.
“I can do it, Liz. I’ll try again.”
She couldn’t speak.
The lump in her throat was strangling, making words impossible. She could only shake her head.
Max closed his eyes and his face crumpled. Slowly, he lowered his hand.
“What are you doing?” Maria asked in a shrill voice, coming closer.
Her accusing stare flickered between Max and Liz, “Don’t tell me you believe him? You can’t just give up. This is
Charlie. He’s right here.”
“Maria…” Michael began, but she didn’t want to listen. She didn’t want to hear the defeat in his tone, the bitter acceptance.
She leaned over Charlie, caressing his face, squeezing his hand, “Charlie..honey…it’s Aunt Maria, we’re all here. Uncle Michael, Mommy and Daddy, Aunt Isabel and Uncle Kyle. We all love you so much. Just…just come back to us. Wake up honey. Please just wake up.”
Maria covered her face with her hands and cried. Deep wracking sobs that were muffled by Michael’s chest as he pulled her against him.
As the horrifying truth breached the defenses of their minds they all gathered close, needing to look at Charlie - to touch him. One last time.
Maria couldn’t believe this was happening. She felt like she was losing her mind, and part of her actually wished that was the case. This was wrong. The word repeated in her mind like a mantra. A prayer. Just that morning Charlie had been with them. Vibrant and beautiful and so very much alive. And now…now he wasn’t.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Kyle didn’t understand. Everything he’d always known to be true, everything he’d ever believed in was shaken. He‘d read stories in the paper, saw them on the news. Unexpected tragedies and freak accidents. But that wasn’t supposed to happen to Charlie - never to him. He was everything that was good in the world - that was good in them. What kind of higher being would allow that to be taken away? He didn’t understand.
Isabel understood. And she knew who was responsible. Kyle would’ve called it karma, but she had a simpler term.
Payback. She had been a terrible person in her past life, and this was her penance. To lose those she loved most. Over and over again. Alex, Charlie, her brother and the others, they were just collateral damage, caught in the crossfire of her punishment.
Michael was angry. There had been many moments in his life when he had been furious - but this - this was different. The hands that held Maria began to tremble, needing a target to unleash their wrath on. In the waiting room, a nurse had explained that the driver of the car hadn’t survived. At the time Michael had been glad that he was dead - it was no less than he deserved. But now Michael wished that the man had lived. So he’d be able to kill him with his own hands.
Liz wasn’t thinking about guilt or revenge. She was lost in an sea of memories, of moments. Precious moments. The first time she had held Charlie, when Max had placed him in her arms, and she had opened her eyes and knew what perfection looked like.
His first smile, his first step, his first word.
Momma.
So many firsts. And even more nevers.
It was the nevers that taunted Max. That simmered in his mind and squeezed his heart.
Charlie would never ride a bike.
Never go to school.
He would never have a best friend.
Charlie would never catch a fish, or see a falling star.
He would never kiss a girl, or fall in love.
Charlie would never know the uniquivocable elation of having a child of his own.
So many dreams - so many joys that made life worth living. And Max had wanted them all for his son. He had thought he’d have the time to give them to him. But time had run out.
“Max.”
Langley’s adamant tone pulled them from their thoughts.
“There are things you need to know, things we have to discuss. You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”
“But we can’t just go.” Isabel said in a small voice.
She ran her fingers through Charlie’s soft hair. “He doesn’t like to sleep by himself. We can’t just leave him here all alone.”
“We won’t,” Kal assured her. “I have men coming.”
“What men?” Michael challenged.
“Trusted men,” Kal replied. And then clarified his definition of trust. “Men who do what they’re told and know enough not to ask questions.”
In a hollow voice, Kyle asked, “Where will they take him?”
“Somewhere safe. We won’t be far behind.”
No one addressed Langley’s use of the word ‘we’ for the second time, implying that they were united, that he had somehow, in the minutes since his arrival, interwoven himself into the fabric of their family.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
But they were all too grief stricken to point it out.
There was a knock at the door. Langley opened it and the light haired nurse stood nervously on the other side.
“Mr. Langley, the men from the funeral parlor are here. Should I have them wait?”
Kal turned and watched the group huddled around the lifeless child, their pain on display for all to see.
Dying with dignity. He’d never really understood the concept, it was a uniquely human notion. Death was the enemy. It was unrealized aptitude, wasted potential. It was putrid and foul and rotten.
There would never be anything dignified about it.
“No. Send them in. We’re ready now.”
Two men with subdued expressions and muted colored clothing entered the room, pushing a cloth covered gurney between them.
Liz leaned over, pressed her lips to Charlie’s forehead, and inhaled his sweet scent. She grasped the edge of the sheet and brought it up to his chin - tucking him in - as she had done a thousand times before.
But it was Max who picked him up, cradling him close to his chest.
It seemed fitting that Max, who had been the first person to hold the precious boy would also be the last.
He smiled, despite the tears that burned his eyes, as he gazed at the delicate features of his son’s face - wanting to make sure they were committed to memory.
As if he could ever forget.
Lovingly, Max placed Charlie on the table.
Like a funeral procession, they walked down the halls of the hospital, three on each side, each holding on - unable to release the child just yet.
Until they reached the outside and were faced with the open back door of a black hearse.
Charlie was placed inside, and each of them were forced to let him go.
************************************
They walked into the rented house silent and stone faced.
Even in the most desperate of times, there had a youthful purity, a playful energy surrounding them. But that was gone.
Now they resembled soldiers who had not only lost the war but couldn’t remember why they had ever fought in the first place.
Liz didn’t pause in the living room. She walked straight down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door loudly behind her.
Max followed her with his eyes, wanting to go with her.
But he knew he couldn’t - there were things he had to deal with first.
Things like Kal Langley.
“How did you know?” He asked, turning swiftly towards the shape shifter.
Maria and Isabel sat beside one another on the couch, with Michael and Kyle flanking them.
Kal smirked as he answered, “It’s my job to know, remember? I came as soon as my man notified me of the accident.”
“Your man?” Michael repeated. “You mean…you had us followed?”
Kal nodded.
Max‘s hands fisted at his sides, “How long?”
Kal shrugged, “You were able to lose them once or twice - you got that good at hiding. But for the most part, I’ve had you under surveillance since you left Roswell.”
“All this time…” Kyle thought out loud. “Why didn’t you help us?”
“I did, when it was necessary. You really think you made it out of Chicago on your own?”
“But you were supposed to…” Maria stuttered. “You were supposed to protect them. If you had done your job Charlie wouldn’t have been in that park today!”
Langley was unflinching in the face of her reproach, “If I had done my job, Miss Deluca, Charlie never would have existed.”
He didn’t mean it to sound menacing. It was just a fact.
If Kal had fully followed his duties, Max and Liz most likely would have never met. Charlie, certainly, wouldn’t have been conceived.
For Max, however, it still didn’t add up, “But why are you here? You didn’t care about Charlie, you don’t care about us. Why make contact now?”
Langley pursed his lips and began to explain.
“There is a prophecy. It was written eons ago, by the first Antarians. They had the gift of foresight and they were extremely powerful.
A once fallen king shall rise again and pull his bride from death’s clutches.”
“We know this already.” Isabel cut in, her tone disgusted. “Ava told us.”
“There’s more.” Kal responded. “
And their love shall become flesh and blood. When that flesh is torn, and blood spilled out, the dragon will descend and darkness will fall. Only the King’s Sword can pierce the dragon and restore the light.”
“The dragon?” Isabel asked quietly. “That’s Kivar, isn‘t it?”
In answer, Langley only nodded.
“And the King’s Sword?” Kyle questioned. “What is that? A relic?”
“It’s you.” Kal said, looking to each of them. “The six of you.
You are the King’s Sword.”
“Like the four square.” Michael said.
“No.” Kal shook his head. “Nothing like the four square.”
He paced as he spoke, “They were nobles…powerful, selfish…undeserving but lucky enough to have been dropped out of a royal crotch. The six of you would give your lives for one another. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do or sacrifice. You're bonded. You move as one, your powers compliment each other. Together, with the right guidance, you are undefeatable.”
“Guidence?” Max laughed bitterly. “And I suppose you think you’ll be the one guiding us?”
Kal stopped mid step, “Someone will have to. You’ll need supplies, manpower, a base to plan from and train. Trust me, kid, you need me.”
“I don‘t think so,” Max sneered. “I think we’ve fought enough. I think we’ve…sacrificed…enough. Maybe we’ll just sit this one out.”
Kal tsked, “Now’s really not the time for a temper tantrum. The war
is coming. Kivar is coming, and he‘s got the might of five planets behind him.”
“I don’t care!” Max shouted.
No good had ever come from knowing his alien side. It had only brought them misery and pain.
And Max was done. Done with all of it.
“If Kivar wants earth he can have it. If he wants me, I’m not going anywhere.”
Langley tilted his head as he perused his king. If it was one thing Kal Langley knew how to do, it was survive. Come hell or high water, whatever he had to do or say, he would be on the winning side.
“Liz only had one child, right Max? But not you. Before you hand over earth on a silver platter, you just might want to think about how your actions will effect your firstborn. Remember him? Cute kid, goes by the name of Zan.”
It was the one subject they had never talked about. It was off limits, taboo, by silent agreement.
Max couldn’t admit it - not to Liz - or even to himself, but after Charlie had been born, he shamefully realized that his feelings for his first son were different.
Less.
Max loved Zan - he did - but it was a love similar to that for a neice or nephew.
Someone
else’s child.
Whereas Charlie had always been his -
theirs - to Max it felt as if Zan had always belonged to someone else.
He looked down at the shape shifter with hard eyes, “Zan has parents who will protect him. I’m not one of them.”
“And what about all the others? Millions of children just like Charlie. Innocent children who will die because you did nothing to save them. You don’t care about them either?”
And the boy who had risked his life to heal a dozen children that he'd never met in a hospital cancer ward, shook his head and said sadly, “No, I don’t care about them. Not anymore.”
With that, Max walked away.
He opened the door to the bedroom and found Liz curled around Charlie’s pillow. She wiped at her tear stained face, careful not to wash away the scent from the fabric.
Max knelt beside the bed, like a sinner in a confessional.
He bowed his head and let his tears flow freely. Liz touched his head and opened her arms, beckoning him.
Wordlessly he went to her, wrapping her in his embrace.
They lay twined together, and together they wept.
********************************
Out in the living room, Kal rubbed his eyes wearily and muttered, “He’ll change his mind.”
“And what if he doesn’t?”
Kal pinned Michael with his stare. “Then change it for him.”
Michael stood, “We’ve faced Kivar before. I really wasn’t impressed.”
“
That was not Kivar,” Kal snorted. “That was a piece, a small sliver bound by the constraints of a human host. The Kivar that’s coming here is a monster. And he’s not looking to recapture the attention of some lost paramour. He’s coming to rip, and burn, and decimate.”
Michael pushed a hand through his hair.
And then his eyes found the lonely pile of toys in the corner of the room. Charlie’s toys.
And he felt empty all over again. Gutted.
“Maybe Max is right. Maybe none of it matters anymore.”
Langley stepped forward, his voice intense.
“In a day, maybe two, you’re going to dig a hole and you’re going to bury that boy. It’s a done deal. The only question up for grabs is how many holes are you going to dig next to him.”
He gestured towards Kyle, “You want to dig one for him?” He pointed at Isabel, “Or her?”
He motioned towards the bedroom down the hall, “Or them?”
Lastly, he pointed at Maria, “Or her?”
After a moment of silence, Kal lowered his hand. “You’ve lost something precious. I won’t insult your intelligence and tell you that I know how you feel, or that I sympathize with your pain. I don’t, I can’t. But I will tell you this - if you don’t stand up - if you don’t fight, then everyone you’ve ever known, anyone you’ve ever cared about, will die screaming.”
He paused and looked each of them in the eyes.
“That prophecy was written for
you. Because someone, somewhere wanted you to know and be ready. But a sign is only worth something if it’s heeded. If you ignore this, then that boy died for nothing. You don’t like me? I’m fine with that. But you all claim to have loved Charlie Evans. And if that’s true, then for God’s sakes, honor him. Make his loss mean something.”
They were quiet for several minutes, absorbing the words.
Then Michael sat down.
And Kal saw the action for what it was. Surrender. Acceptance.
He sighed, “There are arrangements that need to be made. I’ll be back at dawn. Take only what you want - what’s important to you. Everything else will be provided.”
Then Kal Langley slipped out the door, giving his newly recovered young charges privacy to grieve.
To mourn all that had been, was now, and soon would be.
****************************