Title: Take My Hand
Disclaimers: NOT MINE!! NOT MINE!! Ok just wanted to make that clear. I tell ya, Roswell ain’t mine! …Although I wish it were so that I could fix the mess that was
season two. But it’s not so I’ll get over it… eventually….
Category: AU M/L with a bit of everyone else thrown into the mix.
Rating/Genre: PG-13 – R / Drama
Summary: Would love to give you one, but I’m not going to because…let’s face it. I suck at summaries.
Author’s notes: There are still aliens, but Liz grows up in New York instead of Roswell. Oh, and the prologue and possibly the first few chapters are mellow-dramatic. But the story doesn’t go that deep. It actually has plenty of action and the plot is kinda weird after reading the prologue, but what do you expect? This is story is a product of my mind’s working.
Dedication: To Liz/CanadianRoswellian! Thanks for all your support and help! This is for you chica, hopefully you won't be disappointed.
Prologue: Unreachable Dreams
The world is a vast place, but for a small little girl of only five years, it is like an endless wonder. This particular little girl's dream was to explore this mast planet, but her dreams did not end with this earth. No. These dreams went beyond the waters and clouds of earth, reaching towards the stars. She hoped that one day she would be able to roam the planet freely, exploring every inch and crevice.
She wanted the chance to feel the white sand beneath her feet as the waves of the ocean rolled gently over her toes. To be able to see the sun setting on the waters, expanding its light to create a soft heavenly glow of colors, to be able to feel the last of the sun’s warmth and the first breeze of the cool night air. She craved the chance to climb the mountains just like she had seen the people on television do. She wanted to climb to the very top, and it would have been worth it. If only to just see the sun rising across the sky, throwing colors right and left. But above all, she wished to find love and a calm tranquility. Her heart ached for the love that she knew was out there for her somewhere. She wanted to be able to reach that small beam of light that had found its way into her otherwise dark and bleak life.
For a young girl of five years, she had already known pain and suffering beyond what any child should at her age. She knew things that someone her age shouldn’t have to know, and she felt things no one should feel in their entire lifetime. She lived a lonely and isolated life with her foster father, and knew no other emotions but fear and sorrow.
She was unlovable. That much she knew; her ‘father’ had made it so painfully clear to her. Every day she was reminded about how she had been abandoned…about how no one would ever love her because her own parents couldn’t love her enough to keep her. She suffered his drunkenness, and had learned not to flinch when he ‘punished’ her for being a bad little girl. She had endured it all because she had come to believe all the things he had told her. Only at night when he had passed out after beating her, did she cry. She wept for the pain, she wept because someone couldn’t love her enough to keep her, and she even wept for her father. But she never wept for herself.
She would sob until the tears wouldn’t come and she would enter the world of nightmares, only to awaken with a scream, which she muffled immediately with her pillow, not wanting her father to awaken. Then she would burst into a new wave of tears, clutching the small pendant that hung around her neck, the only
possession she had of her past. And she would immediately fall asleep, where instead of nightmares, she would see a family- her family welcoming her back with open arms and love. And as the sunlight streamed through her window, she would reluctantly leave her peaceful world only to enter harsh reality.
Today however, it was different. She awoke, half expecting her father to be leaning over her with a menacing sneer, but was surprised to find the house not only empty, but also quiet. Taking advantage of this opportunity, she quickly went through her morning ritual before she settled herself by her window and drew in her sketchpad. For a small girl like her, it was a wonder where her talent had come from, but she never questioned it. She loved it too much. The only time she would allow herself to get lost in anything and let her guard down was while she drew. And she would draw for hours. Sometimes the drawings were symbols; other times they were rough sketches of flowers and animals that were unearthly, yet
familiar. It was a sight to see. This little slip of a girl, drawing with such intensity, her dark russet hair pooling around her, and light grayish-blue eyes staring intently at her paper. Suddenly she felt a familiar presence, and she looked out her window to see her father holding the hand of another- what looked to be like- frightened little girl not much older than herself.
She watched as her father shoved the little girl into the house and took a moment to study her before her father noticed her. The girl had wavy chestnut-colored her and dark jade eyes that were filled with tears. Her attention snapped to her
father when he called her. He shoved the small girl at her and introduced her as her new sister, and then he left, to get drunk no doubt.
The little green-eyed girl cowered to herself in the corner, looking around frightfully until she trained her eyes before her, only to be startled as she found herself looking into warm blue-gray eyes. She looked at the other girl’s extended hand and took it tentatively at first, but grasped it harder and felt the other do the same. And at that moment two things occurred. The blue-eyed girl knew now that even though the other girl was bigger than her, that she would protect her. But the most important thing was a new hope in both their lives, and the knowledge that they would never be alone anymore. That they would take care of each other.
The emerald-eyed girl introduced herself, her voice light and slightly loud. “I’m Serena.”
Serena embraced the other girl, much to her dismay, but she didn’t pull away, instead she whispered ever so softly in her low voice, “I’m Liz.”
Post New TopicFN:
I love writing notes, but just to let you know…Liz’s eyes are now a bluish-gray instead of brown. It will be explained later in the story, but I’m not really sure about where I’m going with this. So…loved it? Hated it? I accept everything from constructive criticism, to flames, to death threats.
Edited by - talena on 09/29/2001 00:35:22