Roswell Fanatics

Waking Dreams
By rainbow_watcher

Disclaimer: Sigh, I wish I owned them, but not in this universe.
Rating: YTEEN(for now)

Summary: What did Tess mean when she said Max wouldn’t remember Liz on Antar? What if they had left in Departure before Liz and Maria unearthed the truth? Strange things are happening on Antar, and the time draws near when truth will finally come to light…

“We’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around;, feeling like missing somebody we’ve never even met.” David Foster Wallace

Prologue

When the cold of winter comes
Starless night will cover day
In the veiling of the sun
We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams
I still hear your name
And in dreams we will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall
And we come, to end of days
In the dark I hear a call
Calling me there
I will go there
And back again

‘In Dreams’ from The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

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

Darkness fell across the city. Slowly, one by one, the sparkling lights that lit up the buildings flickered off, till only one or two remained. The streets were dark and empty of all but the few creatures that flittered through the air.

It was quiet. No cars came through this city, no aeroplanes flew overhead. There was only the soft sound of breathing, as all the inhabitants slowly fell into a deep and restful slumber.

Dreams of bright and beautiful things came to some. To others, dreams of freedom haunted their minds. Some dreamt of love, some of friendship; some flew through the air, some burrowed through the ground. All through the city the people slept, locked in peaceful dreams till morning arrived.

But in the centre of the city, in one large building, there lay one man whose sleep was not calm, not restful. He groaned and thrashed in his bed, but his dream would not let him go until the message had been passed on. His dream was one of importance. His dream was vital. The fate of worlds depended on his dream, and on his remembrance of it.

He stood on a strange ground. It stretched around him as far as he could see. He bent down and touched it, the scientist in him wanting to know where he was. It was oddly familiar; though he was sure he had seen nothing like it before. It had a gritty texture and it fell through his fingers. Individual grains stuck beneath his fingernails, but most fell to his feet, where it was instantly unrecognisable from the rest.

Sand.

The word came unwanted and from someplace deep within his mind. He pressed his hand to his forehead, willing his mind to tell him more. Where was he? Why was he here? Why did this all feel so familiar, like he had been here before?

Once upon a dream.

He remembered his dreams then. He remembered that for five years he had come to this place once a week at nightfall. He remembered that there was always this sense of recognition, and how he always felt that the answers lay within his grasp, if he could only see them.

He stood up slowly, the remnants of the sand falling from his fingers. The stars stood bright above him. These at least he knew, and they remained unchanged.

He sighed and took a step forward…and then the dream truly began.


Three others in the city knew of the man’s dream. One hid from her knowledge. She tried with every breath she took to forget her part in it, preferring to hide in memories she was forbidden to share with anyone else.

Another embraced what he knew, for in a world of isolation and torment, it was the key to sanity.

The last was different. She saw all and she knew of the lies that surrounded the man and all around him. She knew why the dreams haunted him, and she knew the time would soon come to do something about it. She had seen much in her time and she knew soon, soon would be the time when truth would be revealed and evil banished.

But for now she watched and waited.

Watched for the signs that the time had come.

Waited, for only then would she take action.

He had not taken more than one step before it began. A whirling maelstrom of sounds, scents and images that hit him from every side. They came so quickly he did not have a chance to process them, but he knew they were important. He knew he must remember.

Everywhere he turned there was something new; a spicy tang of something in his mouth; the feel of silky smooth hair beneath his fingertips; the warmth of a small hand clutched within his own; the scent of strawberries in the air; the sound of laughter echoing around him.

He cried out, begging the storm of senses to stop or slow down, but it continued, wrapping itself around him so he could no longer see or feel anything but it.

He saw grass, familiar except for it’s colour, a sort of worn out green; he felt heat, baking down on him from above; he saw a pair of deep brown eyes gazing up at him; he heard snatches of voice, some that he knew and some he did not.

What are you showing me? He begged subconsciously to find an answer to what he was feeling.

Then suddenly the images stopped. He sobbed with relief as he came near to wakening. There was just one more sense, one more feeling.

Soft lips pressed against his own. Lips that tasted of strawberries as he relaxed into them. Now waking did not seem so important. The scent of vanilla wrapped itself around him, pulling him in, as he wrapped a hand in dark hair. Odd that he knew it was dark even though he could not see it.

It was dancing on the edge of his mind now, the answer he had been looking for. He was so near…so near…

“Zan? Zan? Are you okay?”

He shot up in the darkness, breathing heavily, the memory of the lips still fresh on his mind.

“Did you have another nightmare?” A soft hand was placed upon his arm and he fought with himself not to flinch away. Instead he drew a deep breath before putting his arms around her, drawing her close as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s okay. It was just a dream.” He repeated it over and over to himself, but that did not help assail the pang of guilt that passed through him as she snuggled close and drifted off into slumber.

For the lips he had been so softly caressing were most definitely not those of his wife, Queen Ava of Antar, the queen to his king and the mother of his child.

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

A/N This is an idea which I have had ever since I saw Departure. As season 3 never aired in the U.K. (at least on terrestrial), you can see that I had plenty of time to think of ways the show might have gone! It’s posted at ff.net under a different name- no plagiarising! Please leave comments if you like and hopefully I’ll be back next week with another chapter.

Love
Kat

P.S. The song I used at the top is gorgeous and if you don’t know it I would seriously recommend listening to it. It’s from the LOTR: FOTR soundtrack and it’s brilliant.

Part 1
Antar- Four Square

“People are lonely in this world for lots of different reasons. Some people have something in their disposition, maybe they were born too mean or maybe they were born too tender, but most people are brought to where they are by circumstance; by calamity or a broken heart or something else happening in their lives that wasn’t anything they planned on.

People are lonely in this world for lots of different reasons. The one thing I do know is- it doesn’t matter what anyone of them might tell you, nobody wants to be alone.” Dakota Fanning- ‘Allie’ in Taken.

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The robes were white and silken. They draped her form peacefully, clinging to every curve of her skin. They formed the illusion of beauty, purity and compassion. All the qualities she should have; all the qualities she lacked. She absentmindedly brought a hand to her cheeks, the sticky wetness on them cooling her fingertips even as she reached forward to the table in front of her.

She began with her cheeks, covering the tear stains with a thin layer of foundation. Blusher gave the picture of rosy happiness, a stark contrast to the unhappiness that veiled her eyes. Her lips were painted a perfect red and with eye shadow and liner she touched up the mask she lived behind.

The mascara was the final touch. She blackened each eyelash slowly, stretching out the time till her new identity became complete. In time it would be. It always was.

She played her part. She always had done. She always would do.

A pin lay on the table before her. She raised it slowly to her eye, separating each lash from its neighbour. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, pin obscuring one eye. It would be so easy to end it now. The pin, metallic grey except where mascara blackened it, was so close. One slip, one slight push and it would be embedded in her eye, scarring her face. Would she feel it piercing each layer as it entered?

She imagined the blood, perfect in its vibrant red. First a slow trail of liquid travelling down her cheek. Then an odd metallic taste gracing her mouth as it made its way gradually down her face, before dripping silently from her chin on to the perfect whiteness of her robes, forever marring the cleanliness she was supposed to represent.

What would they do then?

She brought the pin even closer. It was now only millimetres from her eye and she could see every speck of the black mascara that dirtied the metal point. She could now almost feel it entering her eye, cutting through the perfect blue iris.

She could almost feel the guilt trickling away with the blood, the beauty of relief flowing in its place as she would laugh properly for the first time in five years. That would be how they would find her- laughing as blood trickled from her eyes, pins in both now. They would think she was crazy, and none would realise how sane she truly was.

If she couldn’t see, the illusion would be shattered, and then perhaps they would leave her alone. The ghosts of past mistakes that haunted her every step. It would all be over.

Her hand shook with longing, bringing the pin right up to the edge of her eye. Just one small prick…

A small sigh, more of a breath really, brought her to her senses, and with trembling hands she put the pin back down on the table. She couldn’t do it. She could never do it.

She made her way over to the bed where a small head poked out from under thick blankets. She sat next to him, on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly stroking a hand through his hair. It was soft and silky, like that of his father, only his curled slightly, a trait inherited from her. As she watched him lost in his dreams, she became aware of tears once more prickling at the edges of her eyes.

He rolled away from her as she pulled away reluctantly, scrunching her eyes to stop tears flowing. She left the room with only one last look at the pin on the table, her head held high.

She was Queen Ava of Antar and she had chosen this life, this destiny, a long time ago. She would not cry over it.

But always, at the back of her mind, the forbidden word haunted her thoughts, and she knew where she must go.

------------------------------------------------------

Vilondra, High Princess and third in line to the throne, looked down with disbelieving eyes at the bundle before her. Could this small bundle of perfection really be half hers?

Nestled in a blanket, dark hair was all that showed of her two day old son as he turned and yawned slowly before returning to his slumber.

The days had been so hectic, and she had been so tired after the birthing, that this was the first time she had really been alone with her small son. This was the first time she had really looked at him.

Originally she had been shocked at the likeness to his father. To be honest it had made her shudder, the way his face looked to become almost an exact replica of the man she called husband. But now, as he sleepily opened his eyes she caught her breath. The eyes that stared back at her were not the crystal blue of his father, but the dark brown that she recognised as her own.

With a soft cry she bent down to gather him to her chest, softly rubbing her cheek against his smooth satin one. In his eyes she had seen his potential; to be kind and good and nothing like the man who fathered him.

She vowed then that she would never fail her son, like her mother had failed her. She would love him enough to make up for the fact his father did not.

She was unaware when the first tears began to fall, but before she knew it they streamed down her cheeks, splashing lightly on to the soft skin of her son and he squirmed away. She put him down and let them flow unrestrained, a release of all the emotions she had kept locked inside.

She cried for her husband, whom she did not love; she cried for her brother who seemed so empty; but most of all she cried for her son, whom she could not name.

She had tried every name she could think of, yet none fit. They all seemed harsh and wrong somehow- Seyoph, Meani, Yorcut, Zydi- she’d run through them all, yet she knew none were for her son. He had a special name that floated just out of reach, and try as she might, she could not find it.

It was through tear blurred eyes that she saw her sister-in-law pass the door, and without thinking she called out. Ava had seemed to know instinctively the right name for her son. Even though it was a name no one seemed to have heard before, they all knew it fit him perfectly. Maybe Ava would know the name for her son too.

The two women embraced, Vilondra sobbing into Ava’s chest, the words barely intelligible, “I can’t name him.” She cried harder, realising what that made her. A mother that couldn’t even name her child didn’t deserve one.

Ava looked down at the baby, releasing Vilondra long enough to stroke his hand, which clenched round her finger. A dreamy smile crossed her face as she seemed to talk without thinking. “He’s beautiful. I always knew you’d have beautiful children.” She withdrew her hand from the baby’s grasp. “As for a name, his name is Alexander. His name is Alex.”

Later Vilondra would remember that Ava had stiffened as she realised what she had said. That she had looked at her with almost fear in her eyes and had glanced around to check no one else had heard. Later she would wonder what had been wrong with Ava, but at that moment she had been enraptured with her son and the name she knew was meant for him.

“Alex.”

Candles surrounded her, music played softly from behind and she was so safe in his arms. She was loved in his arms and she knew then that she could trust him for now and eternity. They whirled around and for the first time she knew hope. Hope that everything would turn out alright. Hope that they would be accepted. Hope that finally she could let someone in.

“Alex is perfect.”

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The prisoner who was not a prisoner sat on the floor of his chamber. He had a bed and several chairs, but he saw them for what they were- enticements to forget who he was and take up the role they had prepared for him. So he sat on the floor, its hardness reminding him not to let his guard down

His clothes were of a fine weave. He had no choice but to wear these, as his others had fallen apart after years of continuous use. Untouched food lay on the table top. He would eat, but only when hunger drove him to it.

Every time he was forced to concede and do what they wished, eat their food, wear their clothes, he could feel himself lose another small battle. Only through sheer determination and faith was he still in this war. He would not give up though. He knew what they wanted, what they fought for and he would not give it up.

There was no outward sign to show he was a prisoner. He could leave his room freely, walk around the palace, do whatever he wished unless it brought him too close to a place he was not meant to be. Then the pain in his head brought him to his knees and he was forced to make his way back the direction he had come.

But the prisoner who was not a prisoner did not give up. Even on the bad days where he almost believed what they said, where he almost believed it was he that was mad, he kept faith that one day he would find his home.

But until that day, he sat on the floor, its hardness a comfort, and lost himself in dreams. He would not allow them to see the pleasure of seeing the torment he was in, so he kept his thoughts carefully in his mind, repeating them over and over- a mantra with which to face the day.

I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy. Maria. I didn’t make you up. I’m not crazy.

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He was tired. Very tired.

His eyes itched and images twisted in front of him, people changing form even as he looked at them.

He couldn’t shake the images of last night’s dream from his head. He knew somehow that he had experienced the dream many times before, yet only now was he recalling it.

Their hold is slipping

He spun round but there was no one there. He rubbed his head. He needed to lie down.

Everywhere he turned the images followed him. He remembered those lips and how he had sunk into them, as if they had been made just for him.

He shook his head, trying to shake the images out.

A new vision hovered before his eyes. His wife, crying silently in James’ room that morning.

She grows unwilling.

He rested against a nearby wall as his vision swum.

He was going crazy.

There was no other explanation for the voices in his head and the odd dreams.

He felt almost relieved that he could put a label to his malady. What would Lonnie think? He grinned. She’d send him to a shrink for sure.

Only a minute later he realised he had no idea what a shrink was.

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And the eyes that saw all knew the time had come for the first step to be taken.

It had begun.

Chapter 2- Loss

Michael paced up and down the chamber. Over and over in his head he repeated his mantra. It was nearly time and he would not break down. He would not give up what he valued most.

He could hear the footsteps coming closer. They reminded him of nightmares as a child, where you could not move and the monster was coming nearer and nearer. Those nightmares were always the worst because you could not see the monster, only hear him, and you knew you had to escape, but you couldn’t and he was coming nearer and nearer…and then you woke up.

He woke up breathless, and managed to stifle his scream. He slipped out of the bed and across the large room to the connecting door. He eased it open, careful to stop it before the squeak. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was only a dream. He was safe, and Zan and Lonnie were here and nothing could hurt him. He slid through the door and pulled out the mattress for behind it. Lying on the floor at the bottom of his friends’ beds, soothed by the sound of their breathing, he fell asleep.

Michael sunk to the floor, hands on his head. That wasn’t what had happened. He had woken alone, and had not been brave enough to get out of bed; because he did not want Hank to realise he was awake. His room had been small, and had smelt wrong, and he did not even know Zan and Lonnie yet. No. Max and Isabel. He did not know Max and Isabel yet.

Still, he could not quite remember his room at Hank’s. It slid around his memory like a wraith, sometimes there, sometimes not. He closed his eyes and carefully built a picture of the room. He started with the wallpaper; yellowing and peeling in one corner, revealing a brown stain on the wall behind. The bed now, small, and with one spring poking into his back.

Yet even as he concentrated on that room, the other kept creeping in. The room where his bed had been large and soft and he had lived some of the happiest years of his life. Except he didn’t.

The footsteps grew nearer and Michael rocked slowly on the floor. Tears formed at the edge of his eyes and began to trickle down his cheeks. He scrubbed at them desperately until his face felt sore; he would not show weakness in front of them. It would be hard today, already he doubted himself.

As the door began to open he climbed to his feet, supporting himself on the chair. My name is Michael Guerin and I’m from Earth. And with that he braced himself to face the onslaught.

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Serena bit back a laugh at the sight of her skin. It was so dark and soft. She poked it, and noted with interest that it changed colour slightly and then returned to its odd hue. How strange. And how did you manage, not being able to see through it? How could you tell what was wrong with you if you were ill?

She didn’t see at all why the rich were having this transformation. It hurt and you lost all of your original appearance. She walked toward the mirror at the end of the lab and bit back a gasp. Maybe there were perks. She fingered her hair- originally the light fluff that all Antarians had, now it was thick and black and curled throughout. She loved it.

Taking in all of her body she decided it was not as bad as she thought. Once you got used to not seeing through the skin it was actually rather attractive. She was glad she had chosen the darker colour; the pinky-beige was not at all her. She traced her fingers all over her body, pausing to cup her breasts through the thin hospital robe. What odd things, she wondered what they were for. Immediately the answer flew into her head and she blushed. Why couldn’t you just hire a plethung?

She ran her fingers up and down her face, tracing her eyebrows and nose before sweeping through her hair. She examined her eyes and was relieved to find them the same colour, if slightly smaller. Their bright green now stood out against her dark skin, but after a moments contemplation she decided she liked the effect this had.

She looked down at the papers. There was no reason, she already knew their contents, but it reassured her to make sure there was she had not dreamed them. The paper was unusual, rough, and slightly stronger than that she was used to. It was the contents that were the strangest. It said only three words, in slightly uneven script, as if the author was very young or very old.

Serene: peace. Destiny.

Only three words on the paper yet a million more crowded her head. Zan. Dreams. Evil. Time. Secrets. Palace. Life. Choices. Loss.

She knew her task. She knew who had sent her. Battles were about to begin and she had to chose her side. She only hoped she had picked the right one.

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It was sunny.

It was fitting that it was sunny she decided. She could imagine him standing there beside her, laughing at her sad expression. ‘Why be sad?’ he would say. ‘I’m the one who’s dead, not you.’ She wanted to yell at him. No, she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to kick him and hit him and hurt him until he admitted he was there, that he had not really left at all, that it had been some cruel joke he had concocted.

She was the only one here. Again. It was one day and yet it was always only her that came, her that remembered. Parents were different. They would come later and they would shed tears, but in the end had they really known anything at all?

The letters were worn now, the grass untidy, and she pictured him chastising them all for keeping such bad care of the place he would forever rest in. Now she was yelling at him once more, telling him it was his fault, and if he hadn’t left, there would be no single place to clean, no flowers to buy, no reason for silence, and just maybe everything in the world would be straight again, even if it was only for a minute.

And then for a moment, he was there. He was there to share her burdens, to make her laugh, to make her cry. He was there and he was smiling and laughing and telling her it would all be all right in the end. He was holding her tight and gradually she could let the tears fall, because he could catch them, and he was right, it could all be all right in the end.

But then it was over, and she was standing alone in the sunshine, flowers hanging limply in her hand and her eyes were burning from the need to release what she kept locked up inside. But in the end there was no one to catch her tears, and she wasn’t sure if that wasn’t the saddest thing of all.

Tonnes and tonnes of thanks to roswell lurver and Zans Desire, my only two commentors Also thanks to lurkers if you are enjoying it, because it is always good to see some people have checked it out.
This chapter is totally and utterly devoted to you, because you gave me the oomph to get down and do it (totally neglecting biology and ancient history).
This will be the last chapter for a couple of weeks because I'm going to Italy and I don't think I'll have a lot of time.

I also wanted to make clear taht nothing from season 3 (yet) has happened. This means Max and Tess' son is NOT called Zan. A couple of my reviews at fanfic were confused so here is a little character help:
ZAN=Maz
AVA= Tess
VILONDRA= Isabel
Michael is still Michael, Liz is still Liz, Maria is still Maria and so on. Serena is new, I'll come back to her later

So on with the show, I figured it was time we caught up with Liz...(and sorry for the taken quote again, I loved that show





“Most people change kind of slowly- they’re who they are, and then, after a while, they’re someone else. But some people know the exact moment when their lives change- they saw the person they were going to marry, or the look in their baby’s eyes the first time they saw them. For some people it’s not the good things in life that make them change, it’s something they’ve gone through that makes everything they look at from that moment on very different from how it had always been.”
Dakota Fanning, ‘Allie’ in Taken

Liz

29th April 2006

The tray squeaked as she pushed it down the white sterile hall. Her light brown hair and grey eyes meant she blended in. No one gave her a second glance and that was how she meant to keep it.

For a long time she had been unable to come to hospitals. It had been a combination of the look in her grandmother’s eyes as she lay there weak and helpless on the crisp sheets, and the horrible feeling of oppression that came from being surrounded by white walls, white floors, white ceilings. She guessed she knew who to blame that one on.

She had conquered that fear though, four years ago when she had woken in the middle of the night. Her heart had been racing, and her eyes had been itchy. She had looked at the clock. It read midnight.

She had known what she had to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She had gone to the graveyard today. She had stood at the edge and looked over to where his grave was. She could never forget that. Maria had been there, blond hair tied back and flowers hanging limply from her hand. She hadn’t changed a bit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The room was deserted. She had watched the nurses leave, heard them whisper how it was a shame, so young, but there was nothing that could be done. A car accident they had said, the road was wet, he braked too late, hit a tree. He was sixteen.

He was in a coma.

He would die.

No.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For a minute she had felt the urge to go over there. To hug Maria, pretend nothing had happened. What had happened?

She felt Alex urging her to go, just a few steps he was saying, there is nothing I want more than for my two best friends no longer to be alone.

Too late. She had turned away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A wave over the window meant anyone passing would only see what they wanted. The doctor would be round in five minutes. She had to be quick. No mind-warp, just molecular structure. There would never be a mind-warp.

She made her way over to the bed. Brian Goode read the sheet in the clipboard. There were no visible signs of injury, just a cut on his head and his unnatural stillness proving there was anything wrong.

She placed her hands over him. In less than ten seconds she was in.

A golden retriever. A blond haired little girl. Jessica. A man shouting. A history textbook. A drunken kiss at a party. Buildings. Grass. Life.

He was fighting, she could tell, but he was losing the battle. She would not let him go.

Robert Facely, Nadim Parvi, Scott O’Realy, Antony Frost.

She hadn’t let any of them go.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was hard, avoiding Maria and Kyle. She had returned for her weekly visit to Roswell. She always forgot how small it was, how different from London. She stayed at the Crashdown of course, but whenever she felt Maria or Kyle come near she would retire upstairs. Her parents had soon got the hint and sent them away. She hadn’t talked to either of them for over four years.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Her breathing was hard but it was done. He would be okay. She stood up shakily and exited the room. Her hair was blonder now, her eyes hazel. Two different people. No- one would think anything of it. It had been five years and she was an expert at escaping notice. God knows she had had the practice.

Leaving was the hardest part. She could not attract any attention, even though her powers were drained and she needed to sleep. She had to keep moving, make it to the car, drive home. Only then could she relax.

It had become easier, the healing. It scared her that she thought she had more power than Max ever had. That was wrong. That should not have happened. She did not know how she knew that, but it was an undeniable fact. Just like her power was the wrong colour. She tried to avoid thinking about it.

Nothing good came from thinking about it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

London was different. The climate was different, the people were different, the atmosphere was different. She loved it. She loved the sense of anonymity walking down Oxford Street gave you. She loved the crowds, where you could lose yourself and pretend to be someone completely different. She loved the old buildings, the churches, the sense of history that pervaded every pore. She loved the rain, the feeling of being washed clean. Renewed.

The rain washed away her sins.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She got a taxi home. First she walked to the park, two blocks away from the hospital- that way the taxi driver wouldn’t remember picking her up by the site where a miraculous healing had just taken place. Between the hospital and the park she had become herself again. She was never sure whether she liked or hated returning. One the one hand she loved to sink back into familiarity, and she liked the way she looked, dark hair, dark eyes. She didn’t want to change that. But still, being someone new gave you so much opportunity. You could be pretty, you could be punk, you could be a bitch to the people you hated most, and they would never know it was you. Still, for the moment, being herself was comforting, and she always needed comfort when she was here.

It was late and her parents had already gone to bed. She climbed up the fire escape and made her way shakily into her room. She flung off her shoes and lay down on the bed. Within seconds she was asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They swayed slightly as they walked down the street together. The lamps kept moving and she had the strangest suspicion that she was drunk. A half empty vodka bottle hung from Maria’s hand and she was singing in a far away voice that made it seem as if she wasn’t quite there.

“I can feel it coming in the air tonight…”

She suddenly felt as if she was surrounded. The shadows seemed to grow larger and Maria’s off-key music, so funny a moment ago now appeared sinister and she wanted her to stop.

“And I’ve been waiting for this moment for all of my life…”

The world was spinning around her and she could feel something happening. She didn’t know what but it scared her and she knew something was terribly wrong.

“Can you feel it coming in the air tonight?”

There was a blazing pain in her head. It spread throughout her body and it felt like every cell was on fire. She screamed- a long terrible scream full of pain. What was happening to her?

Maria who was a few paces ahead turned round. She looked at her and began laughing. “See Liz…we…we’re going to be surrounded by them for the rest of our lives. Just when we thought we were free.” She giggled. “You’re glowing Liz.”

She squinted down at her arms. The pain was receding now and she realised the swaying lamps had stopped and the fuzziness in her head had cleared. She was sober…and glowing. It was a turquoise light, a wonderful mixture of green and blue. She felt full of energy and life but at the same time a great worry. Somehow she knew this was not meant to happen.

The glowing began to fade away, and Maria was still staring at her with an unreadable expression. Liz felt the sudden urge to run away, to run where nobody had any idea who she was, what she had been through, that now she glowed.

She couldn’t leave Maria and Kyle though. They had been through so much together. She owed it to them not to leave now. That would be weak, and she prized herself on being strong.

A strange guttering sound drew her attention back to Maria. The laughter in her eyes had gone and now she was beginning to scare Liz. She looked empty, and angry. So very angry. It was a surprise then, that her voice was so soft when she spoke. “We had fourteen years didn’t we? That’s what you said. Fourteen years when we were happy and we had each other and Alex was still there.” At the mention of Alex Maria’s eyes filled with tears. Her voice rose up an octave and she stepped forward shakily. “Why did you change it? Why did you get the chance to change it?”

Liz was walking backwards now, away from Maria. She wanted to cover her ears and pretend she couldn’t hear. She wanted to remember that Maria was drunk, that she didn’t know what she was saying, but she couldn’t. Maria’s slurred ramblings echoed what she had hidden in her heart; and that scared her more than she could possibly imagine.

“It was always you wasn’t it Liz. You who found the soul mate, you who got healed, you who was visited from the future. News flash Liz. Max slept with Tess. He got her pregnant. She killed Alex. I lost Michael ten minutes after my virginity. We lost everything to her, and you could have stopped it all; you could have stopped it all.”

Maria was sobbing now, huge heaving sobs that seemed to burst out of her. Liz stepped forward and embraced her and they sunk to the ground, arms round each other as they cried for what had been lost. But Maria was drunk and Liz was sober, and all too aware of what her best friend thought deep inside.

Maria awoke with a raging headache and a large feeling of guilt; Liz was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The bus had smelt. That was her main recollection. She could remember thinking she had finally lost it. On a bus to God knows where, with no money and no plan. The kid in front of her had a portable TV; money wasn’t a problem for him obviously. She craned her neck to see what he was watching. She sat back in her seat when she realised it was just a Friends repeat. She had more pressing issues to deal with.

What was she going to do? It began to sink in. She had left everything, her parents, her friends, the only life she had ever known. Where was she even going to go?

“London baby!”

The episode carried on, but she was stuck on that one line, and she relaxed for the first time since April as she realised one problem was solved. She’d call her parents, try and explain. She’d get the money, make a plan.

She was going to London.

Chapter 4

She made her way down the corridors of the police station. It was a lot smaller than she remembered, or was it just the loss of Sherrif Valenti, and his imposing character that made it that way. The deputy at the desk had been useless, one bat of her eyelashes and she was in. If only things had been that way when they were younger, it would have saved a lot of trouble.

She made her way cautiously down towards the office. She still couldn’t forget the authority of the place, or that interview so long ago, when she still thought that school friends who were aliens were a big deal. Still when she stood outside the wooden door for the Sheriff’s office she hesitated. It had been almost a year now, phone conversations and emails were not the same, and she wondered whether they even had anything in common now, except of course for the secret that would rule her life forever.

Then she heard the humming and her lips turned up. Who was she kidding? Kyle never changed. He would always be the one person in the world that could make her smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He strode down the hallway. He liked to think that if he met a stranger; they would be able to tell from his walk his character. He needed to appear open like that. After all, what could be less threatening than someone you could read like a book?

He was perfect. He had made it that way. Blonde hair, tanned but clear complexion and firm body. Every girls dream. Only his eyes remained the same. The scientists had experimented on colour change for the eyes, but all the test subjects had been failures, whose only use was the trash can. He had decided that dark eyes wouldn’t be so bad. They could be alluring and dangerous. On his target, however, they had failed.

He stopped and frowned. Too little progress had been made. The King was still in action and the queen was resisting, despite every unhappiness thrown in her way. He was beginning to think it was a bad idea, letting her have the child. Never mind. He would up the pawn’s actions, make her so unhappy, he would appear the perfect choice.

The knight was a problem though. They had nearly eliminated him, turned him from black to white along with the others, but he still clung on, jumping from square to square to avoid capture.

Enough was enough. He was tired of playing this power game with Ava. The knight would be eliminated. Soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing she noticed was Kyle, sitting cross legged on the desktop, eyes closed and hands raised. He was humming.

“Ayumahhh, forpah. Ayumahhh, forpah. Ayumahhh, forpah.”

A scanner sat next to him on the chair, and from the depths crackled sound came, “Ayumahh, forpah. Ayumahh forpah.”

She crept across the floor to where he sat; a full blown smile on her lips. Only Kyle Valenti could convert the entire Roswell police force to Buddhism. She took her bottle of water from her purse and opened the cap, holding it poised above his head.

She considered for a moment that she could actually probably be sent to jail for this. Harassment of an officer of the law and all.

Ah who cared? She was Maria Deluca, and he was Kyle Valenti and they were closer than most. Besides, she needed to feel alive again.

The water poured. Kyle screamed. Maria laughed.

Life was good.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He ushered her into his apartment, before removing his hat and laying it on the side. She stifled a laugh as she looked at him, his hair was soaking wet and plastered to his forehead. He scowled at her.

“I’m going to get a towel. Sit, stay, and don’t touch any water of any sort.”

Maria snorted and made her way into his living room, starting back at the sight of the huge television.

“Erm Kyle?” She yelled at him.

“What now?” He emerged from the bedroom rubbing a towel over his head.

“Isn’t it against the rules of Buddhism to have material possessions? Cos I’d say that was a pretty big no no.” She pointed at the television.

He shrugged. “Buddha and I have an understanding.”

He put down his towel and Maria felt herself fighting the urge to laugh, both at his ridiculous statement, and at his hair, currently spiked in several directions.

“How can you have an agreement with a god Kyle?”

“Three reasons. One. Buddha is not a God, he was a mortal, immortalised by the spiritual ways which lifted his spirit high above us.” Maria snorted and he glared at her, before continuing with his instructions. “Two. I spread the faith around. Did you know only two people in the Sheriff’s office haven’t converted.” He bent close to her ear, whispering, “And between you and me, I’m pretty sure Doug Peterson is meditating in his own time.”

She whispered back, face straight. “And how would you know this?”

“Let’s just say I heard some slightly strange noises through the police scanner the other day. I have to hope its humming or I might end up mentally scarred.”

“And the third reason?”

“Well, I am an alien you know.”

To prove his point he concentrated at the TV screen. Maria watched as he broke out into a sweat. Whatever he was doing was taking some effort.

“Ohh Jimmy, oh God. Oh, oh, ohhhh”

Maria quickly grabbed the remote and switched channels.

“You have powers? You watch porn? I can’t decide which is the most pressing issue here. What else can you do? Can you move things? Oh, can you colour my hair, because I really want to see what it would look like with red in, but then what if it turns out bad, like the pixie cut, so if you could do it, and then change it back if I didn’t like it that would be really great…”

“Maria, MARIA. Shut up! The only thing I’ve ever done with my powers is switch the TV on.”

She sat stunned, looking at him. Why?

He looked around sheepishly. “It was just the thing I did first, you know, and I really don’t have very many powers so I haven’t tried to do anything else. The TV trick takes a lot out of me as it is.”

She wanted to ask why he had been trying to switch the television on with his non-existent (at that time) powers, but she recognised something in his eyes that was echoed in hers. His alien might have been a crazy-murdering-phsycobitch, but to Kyle, she had been more than they had ever been aware off.

So instead of talking, she simply rested her head on his shoulder and watched football. Sometimes life was too complicated for words.

*~*~*~*~*~*

She was young, maybe six or seven, and she was lying in a bed in a room she did not recognise. She cracked open her eyes and saw a younger Zan lying on a bed opposite. He was fast asleep, breathing steady and soft, but there were tear marks round his eyes. He had been crying.

She swung out of bed. In the darkness she could only make out vague objects- a lamp, a chair. She had no recollection of this place but somehow she knew- this was a memory. She was dreaming a memory. She crept over to where the younger Zan slept, intending to wake him, but a noise startled her and she raced back into her own bed, pulling the covers over her head, and closing her eyes, stilling her racing breath.

From beneath the sheets she heard the door open. Maybe it was Rath? He always used to creep into their room at night. She pulled down the covers a fraction, so she could see the figure coming through the door. It was an adult, a female. She wasn’t an Antarian female either, but a mobictanoin like she was. That only meant one person and she retreated again. She hated her mother more than anything, and she didn’t know why she was here.

The woman came into the room and sat on the chair. Vilandra clenched her eyes shut. Go away, go away, go away. But something felt different this time, the air in the room did not become tight as if there was not quite enough, and as far as she could make out, the woman was not looking over at Zan with indifference or dislike, but sorrow.

The woman,her mother, sat down and smoothed down Zan’s hair.

“Why do you cry?” The statement was whispered into the air. “Do you miss your home? Where are your family?”

Vilandra was confused. This was their home wasn’t it? She didn’t recognise it, but that was because it was dark and after all a dream; places always became twisted in dreams.

“I promise you that one day you won’t cry. I promise I will love you as much as if you were mine, because you are mine. I feel you in my heart, and that’s all that matters. So don’t cry. I will always be here.”

Vilandra closed her eyes and prayed that this wasn’t a dream. She prayed that she was really six years old, hiding under the covers, connecting to a woman who loved her.

She thought of all the things that could have been different if her mother had been like this all the time. There would be no marriage to a loveless man, no permanent awkwardness, no cruel comments, no cutting remarks. Vilondra closed her eyes and wished. She wished, and wished, and wished…

The bed covers were soft. In the corner she could hear the soft breathing of her son. She swung out of the bed and thought for the light, centring it only on the bed, making sure it did not disturb Alex’s sleep. Her eyes were wet with unknown tears and one trickled slowly down her cheek. She touched it gingerly. Why had she been crying?

The answer hovered but still evaded her.

She sighed and went back to sleep.

TBC...



A/N
Okay, sorry for the lack of updates, RL is tres hectic a la moment!
The pace shoudl begin to pick up in the next chap, I just felt we needed some Kyle induced lightness before more angst!

Dedicated to my reviewers- frenchkiss70, rosewllluver, Zans Desire, Venus_star2, and I am a dreamer- because I was completely lacking inspiration and I read all your gorgeous comments and they inspired me (corny but true). Please keep up the good work

Next chap: more Serena, and Michael and Ava face off with interesting consequences.

Finally an apology for any typos etc, it's nearly midnight and I rushed it a bit so I could post before going to bed. I'll probably read it tommorrow and make loads of changes!

luv
Kat

ETA: Pls answer the poll on p1, I'm not sure whether I should move it to the Alien Abyss. It is kinda angsty, and it does deal with M/T relationship (tho not for much longer!). I'm not sure, please help.

So by a small margin people voted for this fic to be moved- which it has! Thank you Bordersinsanity.

There will be a new part up for this fic on FRIDAY! Promise- I just have to edit it but I won't be here tomorrow so it will be Friday!

Thanks for everyone's patience!

-Kat[/i]

A/N Hi- sorry its been so long- RL's a tad hectic!! Still here it is, unfortunately I changed my mind about what was going to be in it so no Serena and no Michael But there is a lot of Tess and Vilondra (Isabel). They both play a very key role in this story.

I predict a lot of complaints about the way Tess is written at the moment. Fear not she will get her come-uppance about what happened back on Earth, but I think it works to have her playing the Saint for the moment. She is still clearly weak, and easily played- but there is a little rebellion working its way up in there, which could be vital

Thanks to all commenters- your the best! Hope you like this newest offering and have tracked it over to the Abyss!!

Happy Reading!!



Chapter 5- Shadow


There is one rule in a life lived in shadow. Never forget the light.

“Don’t look at me. Leave me now.” Voice strained, words weak. She feels, for a moment she is not sure what she feels, but she feels. Him, she realises. She feels him.

The mistake is made. He watches, almost powerless. He tries. He does try.

“Xela-deran, are you okay?” Soft footsteps up to the bed, one foot after the other, carefully placed, carefully placed. Light touch on his shoulder. He turns, pain in his eyes, torment even.

“What’s wrong?”

She should go, she should run. RUN. RUN.

She keeps walking. Carefully placed feet, carefully placed.

“I said go.” Courage fills her, enough to touch him, lightly on the arm.

Light touch, light feet, everything about her is light.

“You have to go.” Pain in his voice as she draws near.

Pain. He tried. Failed.

The pain is gone.

He smiles and she withdraws frantically. There is no more pain, and there is no more feeling.

He stands; she is too slow, too slow.

There is no light in her world, only darkness as the floor rushes to meet her.

She does not hear his voice as the pain fills it again. She does not see his eyes.

“Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t, don’t, don’t…” Sinking to the ground beside her, hands in her hair, he remembers.

He remembers light.

But it is too late to beat darkness. The pain vanishes and he stands up, leaving her on the ground. He ignores the crying in the corner of the room. After all, Khivar will not be kept waiting.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Why hasn’t it worked?” The blond man slammed his fist down on the table before her. Ava shuddered; she knew this time would come. Oh Michael- why couldn’t you just let it go.

“His ties to Earth were strong, stronger than the others, Isa…Vilondra had lost Alex, and Zan believed…” she sighed, this part was always hardest for her. “Zan believed that by leaving, he would give her the life she had always deserved. Along with the fact that James was supposedly dying within me.” The bitterness was evident in her voice and the man smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

Try as she might to be Ava, Tess would always be weak. Her human emotions made her all the more pliable. Her pitiful need for family and love as well as her deep hatred for Liz Parker made her the perfect tool.

“But Michael does not want to let go, something happened that last day, and now he is resisting.” Ava read the look in his eyes too well and she hurried to cover up what she had just admitted. “But, given more time, I’m sure he will turn.”

“Five years isn’t enough time? I tire of this game Ava. He is not vital, he has NEVER been vital and you have wasted enough of my time. Dispose of him or I will do so myself.”

“But the four square…”

“The four square is dead in all but name- their loyalties lie to themselves, no longer to each other. They dance to my tune now. Do your job Ava, this destiny was your choice and you must accept the ramifications of it.” He stood; ready to leave her to her choices before he remembered. “Before Rath I need you for Vilondra- I am almost sure this time.”

“What have you done to her now? Is this life not bad enough already?” She stood, and for a moment he could see Ava within her, see how she could have made a good queen, a great queen even. He could not afford to have that happen. He knew he could not let her find out what exactly his experiment was with Vilondra, a push like that could give her the fire she needed. He wasn’t stupid; she was needed for her powers and as his figurehead and for that she must be compliant. It would not be long now till the next step took place- after all how long could one woman hold out? And after that, well he knew having Tessie around would not be nearly so important.

But for now- one stride was all it took to be face to face with her, noses close, breath mixing. He grasped her chin enough hard enough for her to squirm and pulled her gaze up to meet him. “Do not forget my power here Ava? I can bring you back down with the click of a finger, and, well with little Alex around, lets just say that James is not nearly so vital.”

She flinched and he knew he had made his point. Try as she might to hide it- Tess loved her son more than life itself- and he meant to exploit that to the highest possible degree. She would obey him.

“Meet me outside Vilondra’s chambers in a fohtu. You can deal with Rath later.”

He swept from the room- he knew she would come.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she had come to Antar it had not taken long to realise that a mistake had been made. Instead of the acceptance and family she had longed for she was met with cold indifference. Even the people who cheered for the King and Queen returned flinched at their appearance. All her life she had believed that only in Antar would she fit in. It was somewhat ironic then that she had never felt more alone.

Her rounded stomach was all that kept her going. As her pregnancy progressed she withdrew more and more from the others. How strange, after loathing their humanity, now she missed it. She missed Max smiling as he made a tentative bond of friendship with her. She missed Isabel and their chats about the strangeness of life. She even missed Michael and his gruff exterior. At least he was still human, but she could not face him. She had always been a coward- at least Max and Isabel had no idea what she had done. Michael knew too much.

So desperately looking for some companionship she and her unborn baby went to explore Antar. Without Khivar’s knowledge she searched the palace until she found what she was looking for- a device that allowed a veil of illusion to cover the wearer. Safe in Antarian skin she ventured into the city.

An amazing thing happened then. She discovered her people. She discovered what they were really like behind the odd skin and the luminous eyes. She discovered how they could feel emotion the same way humans could- they just hid it more. She discovered what they thought of their King and Queen- so long away. She discovered their weaknesses and their strengths, and through this she felt her own strengths increase. Despite the ever aching loneliness she found something new- fulfilment.

As her time drew near she stopped her city visits, instead opting for a new life. She discovered the Antarian version of a library. In her alien skin she began reading about history, economics and politics. She was careful to conceal everything from Khivar- playing her part as meek mild Tess, and using her mindwarp when things got to hard. He would never know but Tess Harding had a plan to keep her going.

She was going to be a Queen.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky,
Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I wonder what you are.”

Alex gurgled happily and stared up at her, playing with a long strand of hair that fell down, tickling his cheek.

“That’s a nice song.” Vilondra stiffened as the voice came from behind her. “Where did you learn it?”

She frowned, had she been singing? She couldn’t remember. She settled for no answer, returning her thoughts to the small boy that lay in her arms.

“Look at me.” The voice was resolute, commanding and, as always, full of the emptiness that made her shudder with revulsion. She felt herself turning. The small voice within her that told her to resist was easily overlooked. If she had been alone she would have laughed at it. She didn’t know where it came from, but Vilondra knew what would happen if she did not obey her deran.

Deran. She hated the word. Keeper of my heart. Destiny’s choice. There was no such thing.

She placed Alex back down and turned, eyes downcast.

Hatred boiled within her, and for a moment she listened to the voice, and met her husband’s eyes square on.

“Not quite broken yet.” He touched the bruise on her cheek and smiled when she winced. Last night had been the first time he had showed her physical violence. Emotional she was used to- but the bruises hurt a little more on the outside.

“You will not break me.” She gasped; she had not thought those words- they just appeared.

“What did you say to me?” He forced her chin up, gripping it so hard she cried out. She looked into his eyes, their disarming blue, and wondered how it came to this. She had been so sure she loved him. She remembered how he had been, gentle and courteous, he had been infatuated with her. How things had changed.

He raised his head, as if responding to an invisible summons. He let his hand fall, she sighed with relief. He was leaving.

He made his way to the door before stopping, he nearly forgot.

Quick as a flash he made his way over to her, grabbing her hand, and forcing it up to her face.

“Heal it.” It was an order, not a question and shakily she removed all traces of the bruise. He smiled emptily before forcing a kiss down on her lips, they remained slack, and she clenched her eyes closed, and thought of other things, letting him have his way with her mouth.

He stepped back and surveyed her, making sure she was presentable. He bowed, the merest traces of a smile on his lips.

“Your highness.”

Then he was gone, and she sank to the ground, harsh sobs breaking through the air.

Alex began to cry, but she couldn’t move to comfort him.

When had her life become this?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When she began to go into labour she thought she was dying. The pain that rippled through her bent her to her knees and she screamed. Zan came running- he was a devoted husband, even if she knew he would never really belong to her, just as she didn’t really belong to him.

He tried to hold her but she pushed him away- holding herself upright while she gasped for breath.

“It is time.”

His eyes went wide and for a minute she fought the urge to laugh- at this moment he looked more like poor clueless Max than he had in the last 8 months. She felt him call for help and she sat herself down to wait- bracing herself for the next contraction. When it came she felt her world go black.

When she awoke it was to murmured voices. She knew instantly that something had gone wrong. She felt within her for her baby. He wasn’t there.

She shot up, breathing harsh and panicked, as she spoke, “Where’s my baby? Where is he?”

Zan’s face came into view and in his arms he held a small bundle. Without words he placed the bundle in her arms- almost as if he knew it belonged to her alone. Slowly she pushed the covers back. She checked slowly for the right number of limbs before stroking his cheek softly.

As he opened his eyes she felt her own well up.

So this was love.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“People move through their lives sometimes without even thinking about where they’re going. The days pile up and they get sadder and lonelier without really knowing why they’re so sad or how they got so lonely. Then something happens- they meet someone who looks a certain way, or has something in their smile. Maybe that’s all that falling in love is- finding someone who will make you feel a little less alone.” Allie- Taken

Vilondra lay on the floor, Alex’s cries echoing through her ears. She felt frozen- unable to move. She had been so sure something was different last night. She had thought, well she had thought the stupidest thing. She had thought she could feel him- his emotions. It had been an illusion of course- she should have known he had no emotions.

She pushed herself of the ground and made her way shakily to the bed. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not see the man until he was before her.

“Princess Vilondra?” She looked at him with indifference. He was certainly handsome- with blond hair and dark eyes, and he was a meaglan which meant he was one of her brother’s advisors. She had an odd feeling of deja-vu- as if she had lived this scene before.

“Do I know you?”

He blushed endearingly- rubbing his hand behind his back, before beginning to exit the room, mumbling as he did so, “No, I’m sorry, it was rude of me to presume, just with the baby crying, I’m sorry.”

She felt like laughing at his discomfort. He was sort of sweet, in a strange, clutzy sort of way. For some reason she felt lighter now there was someone in the room with her, and she realised she did not want him to leave.

“No, no stay- I could do with some company. What’s your name?”

“I’m Khivar your highness.” His dark eyes met hers and she felt a distinct feeling of deja-vu again. Her fingers began tapping lightly on the side as she concentrated. Nothing.

He smiled, and she found herself blushing, before, slowly, gingerly, she smiled back. Maybe it was time for a new beginning.

Outside the door Ava leant back and let out a breath. For the first time she hadn’t had to intercept. Lonnie had not rejected him and so a memory wipe had not been necessary. In some ways it was good- no more pressure to mind warp her friend, but in others…well she had always hoped it was a small part of Isabel remaining inside Lonnie that caused her to reject Khivar so consistently- now she had let him in, it seemed that even that last bit of humanity was fading within her.

And what would happen now Lonnie had welcomed him?

Something told her a whole new game was about to begin.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Her love for her baby son had so overwhelmed her that for minutes she remained silent. She looked at him and realised he would represent everything that she had so stupidly forsaken. She would raise her son to be human.

She had realised after her first few trips into Antar that the only real aliens were the people in the palace. Khivar and his followers seemed so empty- and Zan and Lonnie had been changed irrevocably from their human counterparts. Something had been lost from within them, and she did not know what to do to get it back.

So during her enforced time at the palace she doted upon her young son. When he was too small to talk she would tell him stories about earth, and his grandparents. She liked to think, that by calling him James, she had given a small gift to the man she had so nearly called father- to replace what she had taken away. Jim Valenti, along with the rest of Earth, was lost to her now, but this way, at least he would not be completely forgotten.

Her queen hood temporarily forgotten- she spent every waking minute with James. It was an almost an unconscious decision to keep him away from Zan, but he was colder than Max had ever been- and she told herself she did not want him to taint James, corrupt him. She had laughed privately over that- the fact that she, Tess Harding, Earth’s incarnate evil, did not want her husband, who used to represent all that was good, to taint her child. She admitted to herself privately though, that as most of her actions were, this was done selfishly. To her James represented a small ball of goodness, and she needed him to help her remember who she could be, what she could do.

She did not forget her people though. While Zan slept she read his documents. She saw how Khivar made his imprint everywhere- and wondered whether Zan could be as blind to him as he appeared to be. She altered small details- the tax on inheritance, the sentence of convicts who she was sure were not as guilty as they were made out to be.

It frustrated her, this lack of influence, but she did not imagine for a minute that she did not deserve it. All this had been helped along by her, and she knew that she was evil. She was a murderer for God’s sake. Still, now there was no one watching her- making sure she followed every planned move, she felt freer.

Since she had come to Antar she had begun making up for what she had done before. Tess Harding would be redeemed or die trying.

But in her efforts to make up for what she had done before, she missed the most obvious of dangers.

Khivar was no one to be toyed with, and now Vilondra had come to him- he had his link to the royal throne, his connection. It would not be long before none of the others were needed.

Then the purges would begin.

Okay...I am confused. I am taking it for granted that Isabel/Viandra is not married to Rath since Michael can't let go of Maria. Who is Alex's father then and who is she married to since she didn't accept Khivar until after Alex's birth and all?

Why are Liz's powers stronger than that of Max and why are Kyle's basically noting more than a remote control with weak batteries? The people who Liz is healing will they have powers as well? Pleaso post a new part....I am enjoying this fic immensely!!

Hi people!

Sorry for the age of no updates. In case any mods come sniffing round there will be an update by the 20th June- hopefully before

I have been busy with my AS's (DOOOOOOOOOOOM) for a while but my last one is one Thursday and after that I might be able to sit my butt down and actually do some writing- so heopfully you can expect an update by the given date.

I'm sooooooooo sorry for taking so long- come back and read the new part when I post!!

-Kat

A/N I have to start with a massive apology. My computer died over the weekend and so while I have written the next chapter I have yet to write it all up/check through it all. Hence here is the first section/a preview , which is very short, just to tide you over until I have the next bit up. This will hopefully be tomorrow, but I have parent's evening, I can promise it will be up by the weekend- even if I have to traipse down to the internet cafe to post

BTW this takes place in the past just after our last Liz flashback. Ooh and I will also post review replies next time!

Anyway, enjoy this small preview!
-Kat




Chapter 6A

2001- Airport

Liz fought the urge to scream as the air hostess, clearly with nothing to do, sat polishing her long red finger nails, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a long queue to check in. She could hear the people both in front and behind of her grumbling and she watched the air hostess’ nails twirl and twist and she could feel her anger rise. It seemed that every minute, every moment that she spent here was stifling her, killing her in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She needed to leave, and GOD DAMMIT she needed to go now.

It felt like hours before the airhostess finally looked up slowly and motioned the first person forward.

Of course entire days passed before Liz herself was in front of the woman, and handing over her passport and ticket. She left her suitcase and moved away- looking for some sort of coffee bar before she died.

It was then that she saw her. Maria- coming through the airport doors and looking around her hastily.

Shit.

Maria would never understand that she had to leave- had to get away from the memories that were haunting her every step. Maria would persuade her to stay, and Liz knew that she couldn’t do that.

She had to find a place to hide. The queue for passport control was too long to have gone through before Maria reached her- she headed for the next best thing- the washrooms. Luckily there were ones nearby and she made to duck inside, but the door didn’t move.

Out of order.

Was nothing going right for her today? Obviously not, as the only other toilet she could see would take her right across Maria’s path. Well, maybe if she just went really quickly?

So she dashed across the airport, pushing past people with murmured apology for what seemed like forever before she finally reached the sanctity of the women’s bathroom. There was no one there; a fact for which she was eternally grateful, as there was no way she could have hidden what happened next.

She began to glow.

This time the glow began before the pain, and she had a few seconds filled with wonderment as she observed the turquoise radiance surrounding her before it began. She screamed as every cell in her body twisted within her, burning up as the air surrounding became blue with her light and she fell to her knees, tears falling without failing from her eyes.

And then it stopped.

It stopped and suddenly she felt so very alive and full but at the same time a great loneliness. Emptiness.

She knew without knowing how she knew.

Max was dead.