|posted on 26-Aug-2002 1:58:35 PM by nickeygurl13|
|Title: A Universe of Death|
Category: M/L, as well as a few other CC eventually.
Rating: Probably PG-13 to R.
Disclaimer: Hi. I don’t know about you, but do I look like the person who owns all the rights to Roswell? Didn’t think so. It belongs to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, Fox, UPN, Sci-Fi, who knows, it just doesn’t belong to me. Also, I don’t own John Milton’s Paradise Lost.
Summary: AU, sort of. What if Liz had been brought into the Alien Abyss, but on a different side? Was saved by another alien? Saw into someone else’s soul?
Author’s Note: Okay, I’ve never posted a fanfic before, so please, go easy on me. I’m really, really nervous about this. Also, I NEED FEEDBACK. All of it, the good the bad, flame me if you must, but please, try to be constructive? I’d love to hear what you think.
A Universe of death, which God by curse
Created evil, for evil only good
Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things
Abominable, inutterable, and worse
Than Fables yet have feign’d, or fear conceiv’d,
Gorgons and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.
Book II, Paradise Lost, John Milton.
Have you ever had one of those moments?
Those moments where you’re sitting, maybe alone, maybe in a room full of people, and it’s deathly silent.
And the only thing you can hear is the annoying, tick, tock of a clock, or watch, or anything that ‘measures’ time.
And you don’t know what it is, but you just feel the need to smash the stupid thing into billions of tiny, micro-scopic pieces?
Yeah, well, I’m having one of those moments right now.
Have you ever listened to the sounds a clock or watch or whatever makes?
I mean really, really listened.
Well, I have.
The sounds, they’re just so, annoying.
And let me tell you, friends, it is by no mistake.
See, they purposely create clocks to have the most annoying sound on earth, so that you’ll never want to listen to it.
Because, if you are listening to the clock, well, you obviously have quite a bit of time on your hands.
Which people don’t like.
Everybody wants everybody else to hurry it up.
Pick up the pace.
Keep it moving.
They make clock sounds so annoying because they want you to believe that you’re running out of time.
Life is short, and you have thousands of things to do before it ends, don’t ya?
So, hurry it up.
Stop listening to this damn clock and go travel somewhere, for Pete’s sake.
It’s a marketing scam.
Now see, the thing that bothers me most about these clocks, is that they’re mocking me.
Yes, that’s right. Every single clock on the planet is mocking, me.
Because I am forced to listen to the sounds every second of every single day.
Because I have nothing I need to hurry up and do.
My life is meaningless.
It has no purpose.
It’s just a big blob of nothingness.
Day. After day. After day.
And you know what, I’m getting really sick of it.
So sick of it in fact, I’m thinking about doing something about it.
Throwing my whole, passive aggressive act out the window.
Gaining back some control over my life.
I’m liking this idea, really I am.
I used to be a big control freak.
I had to know everything that had happened, was happening and was going to happen to me, my friends, my family and everyone else within 3 miles of my general vicinity.
I had everything planned out for my future.
Every last detail was considered, tested, and plotted out.
I was a controlaholic.
But when things started changing so rapidly, I just sat back and observed the chaos that had become my life.
Because, really now, what could I do about it?
Well, one teenage girl against one of the most powerful men in the universe wouldn’t exactly have the turnout I was dreaming of.
But now that I think about it, I’m a pathetic, wimpy coward.
Shouldn’t I at least try?
If I’m going down, why not go down fighting?
And see, I would do something to get my life back, I honestly would.
If I weren’t so busy.
I am currently sitting in a waiting area, directly outside of a palace briefing/de-briefing room.
About to take on the next challenge my ‘commander’ has planned out for me.
I am not alone.
My best friend, my only friend Alex Whitman is sitting next to me.
We’re waiting to be called in by Emperor Khivar Van Darrochk.
And I’ve got a really, really bad feeling about this.
Probably because every single mission we’ve had was to kill some person or another.
Alex isn’t talking because he’s getting that feeling too.
So were sitting.
Hey, guess what we’re doing right now?
Told ya I was busy.
Well, I’m guessing it’s gonna be awhile.
So I’ll tell you how I find myself in this predicament.
It started about 2 and a half years ago.
I was 16.
It was Alex’ birthday, so I got him tickets to go see his favorite band.
It was amazing, we both loved it.
There were crowds and crowds of people.
Screaming, yelling, going insane with excitement.
And the best part of all, no security.
Well, okay, there probably was security.
They just weren’t doing their jobs.
So of course, after the concert, things got a little crazy.
Illegal bon fires.
People doing it in their cars.
Gangs fighting with rival gangs.
Not something you would want to be walking in the middle of, huh?
Yeah well, it wasn’t like I planned it.
But that’s what I did.
I was just walking to my car.
And then, suddenly, there was a gunshot.
And I was lying on the ground.
Feeling a horrible, immense pain in my stomach.
A copper taste appearing in my mouth. There was so much blood in my mouth I started choking and coughing, little speckles of blood flying and landing on the ground around me.
Staring up at the night sky.
Feeling myself slip away.
Knowing the darkness creeping up on me would soon steal me away, forever.
I was watching myself die.
And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
But then, a face appeared before me.
He put his hand over the wound below my rib cage.
And the darkness faded away.
I could breath again.
I was a live.
The pain went away, for a few seconds.
But then, a pain far worse replaced it.
The flashes started.
I saw into his soul.
And he saw into mine.
It was the most terrible, horrifying experience of my life.
Blackness. There was nothing to see, no color, no light.
Just endless spans of dark.
And then, as if someone had flicked the switch to turn on a light bulb, light shone down from four heavenly bodies.
The four identical moons bathed the field in light, casting a formidable glow upon the ground.
It was silent. The world around her was hushed. Almost as if it were dead. The wind did not blow, the crickets didn’t chirp, the waves did not make a sound as they lapped on to the shore.
She wasn’t even there. Or she was, but she wasn’t really. She wasn’t supposed to be there. It was as if she were watching through someone else’s eyes.
It was so quiet that it began to scare her. The night wasn’t peaceful, oh no, it was far from that. It was just, calm. Like just before the storm. A warning, a premonition of what was to come.
She took a deep breath to calm herself, and her nostrils were filled with a horrid stench.
Lot’s and lots of blood.
She finally took a more careful look around her, and gasped aloud.
Dead bodies lay scattered in the grass, as far as you could see.
The sound returned, so fast and so loud she swore she would be deaf in a matter of seconds.
Sobbing, some one was crying.
Blood curdling screams cut through the stale air, from thousands of voices.
Cries of help.
Pleas for mercy.
And above all the chaos, someone took joy in the situation.
A cold, envenomed, manic laugh.
A laugh that seared her heart and lay forever embedded in her mind.
And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the ‘flash’ as I now call them, ended.
And I was starring up into the face of one very determined, pissed off Khivar.
A voice tore through my thoughts, shredding my memories back into pieces.
Nicholas steps out of the room, and states in a cold voice, “El emperador ahora le verá.”
The kid knows English perfectly well, but insists upon speaking in Spanish for all the people he thinks don’t understand it. He really isn’t all that perceptive, as Alex and I have picked up on the lingo just a bit. Two years in Spain will do that to ya. Go figure.
Alex and I stand up; give the traditional nod of respect to Nicholas and head to the doorway. Before I can enter the room, Nicholas gives me one of his classic sinister smiles.
Ewwww. Midget-boy has a crush on me.
Ah, well can’t dwell on that right now, I’ve got more important matters to attend to.
“Mr. Whitman, Ms. Parker, please take a seat. I’m pleased to inform you that you both will be taking a little trip out of our beloved home, to take care of some business for me.”
Our ‘beloved home’ would be a gigantic, 12th century stone wall castle, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, just outside of the town of Marbella, Spain, in which, we are allowed to stay in the servants quarters, along with our friends, the rats. Home, sweet home.
I really don’t want to know anything about what we have to do on this trip until the last minute, so instead, I ask about where this ‘business trip’ will take us.
“You will be going to America, Ms. Parker. Roswell, New Mexico, to be exact.”
[ edited 10time(s), last at 4-Dec-2002 9:01:43 AM ]
|posted on 26-Aug-2002 2:50:43 PM by nickeygurl13|
|EEEE! People replied, people replied!|
*runs screaming through the halls*
Kitcat, I love you hun!
Yes, I started a fic! Yay me!
And, you were the first to reply! Go you!
*starts kissing screen*
I love you Cath, I love you roswellluver!
Keep it coming!
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 26-Aug-2002 2:51:38 PM ]
|posted on 27-Aug-2002 9:46:31 PM by nickeygurl13|
|AN: Allah Allmighty you guys! You replied, you actually replied! *jumps around in crazy excitement*|
Thank you so much! You have no idea how amazingly happy this makes me! I love you all! *kisses computer screen*
KitCat26, roswellluver and clueless, thank you so much for replying, this is dedicated to you guys.
Cath: Hahaha, talent. Hehehehe, there you go again with your wonderful sense of humour and sarcasm. Where would we be without it? I am so happy that you read it, it makes me all tingly and fuzzy and warm inside.
And, your questions will be answered in due time. I've got this all figured out in my messed up little mind.
Now, omygoodness? Do my eyes deceive me? Was I compared to the greatness that is Incognito? *drops down on knees* I am not worthy!
And, HOLY RATINGS BATMAN! WHO ON EARTH RATED MY FIC? I was so deliriously excited that I had a rating, I screamed! I was going, OMB! Somebody gave me a star!!! YIPPEEE!
And then, it wasn't just one star, it was 5! FIVE OF THEM!!!
I love you, I love you I love you, and again, I am not worthy.
Also, sorry about this boring part guys. It's a transition, so bear with me. I promise it will get more interesting.
Later that night, I find myself lying on my bed, staring up at the rotting ceiling.
This is the ritual I call ‘sleep’. You’ve heard of it? Well, this is as close to it as I can comfortably come.
On the rare occasion I do actually sleep, my head is filled with dreams. Dreams of the past. Which is not something I want to be reliving right now.
But maybe I should. Start fighting those demons. It’s not like I have anything better to do at this particular moment.
Besides. Thinking about the past consciously is a lot different than thinking about it unconsciously. In dreams you have no control over what’s going to happen. You’re just along for the ride. The only thing you can do is keep telling yourself that you’ll wake up soon, and forget it all by morning.
Which, if you ask me, is a cement-truck load of bull crap.
I think about the assignment I’ll be working on tomorrow, in the two-bit town of Roswell.
Killing another innocent person.
Well, not actually killing them. Alex and I are thankfully spared that task, in all of our missions. We’re just the spies. The double agents. The Trojan horses.
We go out, find the person Khivar wants on his side, and befriend them. Set up a cover story, and learn everything we can about that person. Their hobbies, their lifestyle, the people they hang out with, the places they go everyday. Their secrets. Their dreams, their hearts’ desire. We get them to trust us.
And then, we shatter that trust.
We somehow get them to speak with Khivar. Negotiate with him. If they agree to cross over to the dark side, (umm, yeah, Alex and I have a fetish. When we were little, we wanted to be Jedi. Sadly, I think Alex still has the same aspiration to this day.), then they live. If they don’t, Khivar kills everybody close to them until they relent.
It’s a weird situation. Bestowing the same cruelty on people as I had bestowed upon me.
That’s how I got here, you know.
It was right after Khivar healed me.
He had ran away the night of the concert, leaving me there, lying on the ground, in a pool of my own blood, which had poured out of a wound that no longer existed.
He showed up on my porch the next morning, saying he needed to talk to me. Which was a good thing, because I needed to talk to him too. I had a couple questions about why there was a fat ass glowing silver handprint right where I had been shot.
He didn’t explain to me about how he was an alien, I didn’t explain to him that I already knew. ‘Cause, see, when you see into somebody else’s soul, you kinda get all of the answers about everything. Like a cheat-sheet. Pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.
He told me that he needed my help.
That there were evil aliens from his home, who had been sent to Earth to destroy us all.
Frankly, I always thought it was the other way around, but who am I to hold opinions?
I’m just a girl
I’m just a nobody.
I’m just a slave.
Anyway, he told me that I needed to join him, for the sake of my race. That he had seen the good in me, the loyalty, and he wanted my help in protecting Earth from bad, bad aliens who were out to get us all. They were sending us threats everyday, didn’t I notice?
Sorry, but ‘evil aliens’ whose worst deeds or biggest scandals are cutting down crops in giant circles, or blinking odd lights across the sky, well, they really don’t seem all too dangerous.
My answer? Isn’t obvious? A big fat ‘hell no’.
Apparently that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.
A week later, the threats started appearing. Places nobody but I could get to. My locker at work, on my fridge, in my mailbox.
Telling me that if I didn’t want some horrible tragedy to befall my loved ones, I should reconsider my answer.
Well, violent messages and death threats for weeks on end didn’t exactly have me jumping on the join Khivar’s team bandwagon.
And as if I didn’t have enough to deal with, Alex and I were having one of the biggest fights we’d ever had.
With all the chaos from Khivar, I had detached myself from my friends, particularly Alex.
At school I didn’t speak to anyone. At lunch I hid in the library to avoid confrontation. My grades started slipping, I rarely ate and never slept.
Alex, being the amazing best friend that he his, noticed, and started nagging and yelling at me about what had happened, and why I was so depressed.
I told him that it was none of his business, that I could take care of myself and to ruin someone else’s life.
Yeah, I was a tiny bit overwhelmed at that point, so I blew up at Alex.
He said that he didn’t know who I was anymore, and left assuming I had gotten into some heavy drugs, or a cult or something.
And who would’ve guessed it, it saved his life.
Because that weekend, the wrath of Khivar reared again.
My parents had gone for a trip to Mexico, since it was their 20th anniversary.
There was a grease fire in the hotel they were staying at. They perished in the flames.
Khivar would have gone after Alex first, but since we had been fighting, he hadn’t pieced together that we knew each other.
I sigh. My life is one screwy piece of work. I wonder if I’ll ever get out of here. If I’ll ever escape the loophole that is working for Khivar.
And it is. Knowing Khivar, and doing his dirty work for him is like entering the Bermuda triangle. You try to escape, and he kills you. You stay, and it’s slowly kills you anyway.
My eyes start to sting, so I turn my thoughts away from my bucket o’ angst for tonight.
Turning to the tiny window that adorns my room, I watch the full moon rise and fall, and I wonder if my life is really worth living at all.
Well, there it is. One-B should be out by Thursday. If not, my apoligies in advance.
|posted on 27-Aug-2002 10:36:46 PM by nickeygurl13|
|Lol, chips gone already? Well, move onto cupcakes. That should help, for a while. |
Glad you like. And, nope, I will not let you get away with thinking ahead, or predicting the ending. Nope nope nope.
I'll just have to throw in a few surprises.
Alright, I am an unashamed, grovelling dog with no pride.
I bump myself.
|posted on 30-Aug-2002 12:53:10 AM by nickeygurl13|
|Okay, okay, so it's a little bit late. It's still technically Thursday on my time.|
Thank you Kitcat26, roswellluver and NikkiSue for the bumps and words of encouragment. I wove you all very very much! *big sloppy kissses on moniter*
Here's the next part, please leave fb!
Thank you all so much (again)!
We’re standing in the Marbella airport, waiting to get our tickets so we can head on over to the grand old USA.
It’s taking a really, really, really long time.
Okay, so, in reality, it’s not the actually tourists’ fault.
But see, it’s 7:00 in the morning, and I’m getting on a plane that isn’t going to stop for at least another 7 hours, and I haven’t had my coffee yet.
You could say I’m a bit cranky.
A voice sounds through the line of airport receptionists and irritated travelers.
“Next! I can help the next person right over here.”
Alex and I stare at each other, giving the look.
The look of horror.
“Sir! Sir, you can come on up now sir, I can help the next person now! Sir, sir I am looking right at you.”
Yeah, um, that isn’t helping lady.
“Next! Please Sir, come up to the counter, sir, I am looking right at you!”
Yes, but we’re not looking at you, so this really isn’t going to work.
Now the people behind us are starting to get pissed. They all point in different directions, and start yelling in a language I can’t even identify.
Alex apparently has found the person who’s been screaming at us, and makes his way over. I follow behind.
“Thank you for flying SpanishAir, how may I help you?” The blatantly fake platinum blonde asks about an octave higher than normal humans can speak.
Maybe she’s a robot, just like everybody else on the airport staff.
How else would they walk in 5-inch heels down a 12-inch ramp serving drinks during heavy turbulence all day?
Alex goes, “Yeah, we’re here to check into our flight. Flight 387.”
The platinum blonde types something into her computer, and comes back saying, “Oh, well, it seems Mr. Whitman and Ms. Parker, that you’ll be taking an international flight, so we’ll need you to fill out the required forms before you’re allowed on that flight.”
“What?” Alex groans.
“It’s the airlines’ policy Sir. It’s a necessity.”
That bitch. She’s probably just pissed about us holding up the line.
We each are handed ridiculously large pile of papers, and move to a sitting area to fill them out.
My god. How many questions are there in this thing?
I flip through the pamphlet again, unbelieving that I need to deal with this crap at 7:08 in the morning.
Alex leans over and taps me on the shoulder.
“What’s the answer to number 6?”
I look down.
Status of occupation.
“You’re employed, Alex.”
“Yeah, but, like, what do I do again?”
“You’re in the food network.”
“Seriously? What kind of networking?”
“You’re an Italian Dinner delivery citizen.”
“Liz. I am not writing Pizza Boy down on this paper.”
“Fine. You come up with your cover story.”
I return to my work.
“Hey Liz.” Alex’ voice is soft, pensive.
“Yeah?” I whisper in concern.
“We, like, we….we…..”
“We what, Alex?”
“We like, work for aliens.”
Umm, well, duh.
“And you just came to this, now, in the airport, after 2 and a half years?”
“But, we like, we work for them.”
“Yes, yes we do.”
“I mean, if we were in Independence Day, Will Smith would like, kill us.”
“Ummm, well, probably?”
“But don’t you get it? They walk among us, and they are our employers.”
“Real shitty employers if you ask me. Don’t even get a decent pay for our services.”
Alex freezes. And then, his trademark cheesy grin creeps onto his face, lighting his eyes.
“Ummm, what are you smiling about?”
“It’s just all so hilarious.”
Well, when you think about it, yeah it is.
Hmmm. Back to the pop quiz. Do I know what’s packed in my bag?
“Oh, man, is she HOT!”
Maria Deluca sighed, and turned to her best friend in disgust.
“Isn’t it like, against your religion to treat women like pieces of meat?”
“Errrm, probably, yes.” Kyle Valenti said through a mouthful of cheese-its.
“Right, and you don’t care?”
“Not really, no. Buddha says that…”
“No, you know what? I don’t care. Continue with the profanities.”
“Gee, thank you Maria.”
Isabel Evans walked up to their table in the quad, interrupting Maria’s chance to retort.
“Hey guys, look, we have a group meeting right after school at Michael’s today.”
Kyle rolled his eyes.
“What is it this time?”
Isabel glared at Kyle for his sarcastic attitude, even though she herself was growing tired of Michael’s constant fears, and dreams, and signs.
“Michael’s got a feeling again. Says somebody new is going to come to town and kill us all.”
“Oh goody. It’s been at least a week since we’ve been threatened by the invisible enemy, who sent a warning through their personal messenger, the one and only Michael Guerin.”
Maria whacked Kyle on the arm, “Shut up, Kyle.”
Kyle turned to Isabel. “Ahhh, she’s standing up for her boyfriends rights, isn’t it sweet? I had no idea you were so whipped Ria.”
“How dare you! I was in no way standing up for my boy-“
“Okay, okay, let’s not do this right here. Just please, tell me you’ll both be there?”
“So you had a dream?”
“About a guy, showing up, and killing us all?”
“No. But, I could tell he was an enemy.”
“What’d he look like?” Max asked, irritated by Michael’s insistence that they had to leave town, before it was too late.
“Tall, blond. A pretty boy. I think his name was something like Khivar.”
At this Isabel gasped aloud, shocked that Michael had been dreaming about the same guy she had.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Isabel, unready to share her dreams with her friends said simply, “Nothing, I just, uh, it seemed familiar. The name did.”
“Exactly. Max, what if it’s someone from our past life, our home. And there here to kill us, the second time around. We have to go, now, before he shows up.”
“Michael, how do we know anything’s going to happen for sure? What if your dreams are just, well, dreams?”
“They’re not Maxwell. Someone’s coming. Someone very dangerous. We need to be prepared, we need to be on the lookout for anyone or anything suspicious. Don’t talk to anyone outside this group unless you have to. We need to be ready to deal with this guy, because he’s powerful. I can feel it. I’m really scared this time guys, I really feel like whatever’s coming, is going to be the end of us all.”
Thousands of miles away, after a two hour delay, Liz Parker sat in her tiny seat next to the window, singing about an octave too high, and at least three notes off-key, waving her arms wildly around:
“Well I'm just outta school, like I'm real real cool, gotta dance like a fool, get the message that, I wanna be a wild one………Ooooooh yeah I'm a wild one.”
”Gotta break it loose.”
”Gotta keep it movin' wild”
Alex has a horrified expression on his face.
“Just, promise me Parker, that you will never, EVER do that again.”
“Okay Alex, it won’t happen again.” I say sweetly.
“I'm a real wild child, I'm a real wild one, and I like wild fun, in a world gone crazy everything seems hazy, I'm a wild one…… oooooooooh yeah I'm a wild one”
Alright. There it is. Hope you like. Please leave fb, and I should have part two up by this weekend. Happy Friday!
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 30-Aug-2002 12:53:54 AM ]
|posted on 31-Aug-2002 9:55:50 PM by nickeygurl13|
It is I, Nickey, with a brand new, amazingly short half-part!
Ahh, well, it's better than nothing, right?
Hehehehe, but before we get there, first things go first.
AHHHHH!!!!!! So many new people replied!!!! THANK YOU!!!
(umm, if you can't already tell, FB is my oxygen. I neeeeeeeeeed it to live. So keep it up, aight?)
So, roswellluver: Thank you again for your fb. It's always wonderful getting replies from you. Hope you like the next part.
Cath! My insane buddy! (lol) Thank you for the bumps! Makes me all happy and giggly and idiodic. How I heart your replies. And, yes, your tardiness is accepted, just work on it next time. Hehehe. And, hmmm, 'brilliant one?' I'm liking that, I really am. It has a lovely ring to it, don't you think? Anywho, Tess will be in this, and Max and Tess will be, quasi-together in the beginning. *looks around nervously* Don't stone me? Glad that you liked Alex and Kyle, hehe, you'll love it when they neet. I've got big plans for those boys! *evil laughter* And, thank you so much for reccomending me!!!!! YAYNESS!
Meagzie: Thank you so much for the inspiring comments. I loved hearing what you thought of my story! And lol, did Cath scare you into reading my story? Very sorry about that, I keep telling her to work on that, but I don't think she listened. *shhh don't tell her I said that* Hehehe. Thank you for the thumbs! (wow that sounds weird)
Lady_without_a_clue, thank you for the fb! Glad that you find it interesting! Hope you enjoy the new part!
frenchkiss70, fantastic, eh? Oooh, I like that, I like that a lot!!! Thank you for your reply, and sorry to keep you waiting!
Alright, now that that's done, dun dun dun.... really really short part:
He sat down in front of screen, watching speculatively as his two best agents, Parker and Whitman, occupied themselves by reading or listening to music on their trip to New Mexico. He sighed heavily, knowing that the outcome of this mission determined the fate of the universe. He knew he had been too hasty; he should have waited a bit longer. It would have probably fixed everything. But he was so tired of waiting. He had waited for 19 years, and his patience was running low. He wanted his position back. He was the rightful ruler of Antar, it was in his blood. But the throne had been stolen from him, and it was entirely his father’s fault. When the old man had died, he had written in his will that the throne was not to go into the hands of Khivar. Apparently, before his father had been Emperor, he had gotten a young girl pregnant, and that child, as the first born in the royal line, was the rightful ruler of Antar.
Khivar had been waiting his entire life to rule, and then some random man who didn’t deserve to be a ruler of anything, and who hadn’t had the proper schooling in reining a planet, suddenly became the Emperor.
So Khivar waited, and waited, until the day came that he could reign over his planet, as the true Emperor. And when that day finally came, when his stepbrother had died from an unknown virus, he rejoiced. He could finally carryout his long awaited plans for Antar. He and his few followers celebrated all night.
Only to find that again, the throne had been snatched out from under him. A boy, his stepbrothers’ son, a pompous, outspoken, spoiled brat of a person demanded that the throne was his. Zaeden Syracuse was stealing what was rightfully his, and had been from the start. And, as the common people much preferred the young, energetic Zaeden to himself, the throne was his.
But now, now was his chance to regain his title. After a planetary war had broken out in Antar, he had made sure he was cloned and given new life on the same planet as King Zaeden, his sister and Khivars’ love interest as of yet, Villondra, his bride Avina and his second in command Rathos. And, since now was the time of second chances, he had been given another one in this life.
A miracle had been given to him, almost on a silver platter.
However, his miracle could quickly turn into his demise if this plan fell through.
Which was why this mission was so dangerous. He needed her to go and recruit Lonnie onto his side, so the pieces of his mastermind plan could fall into place. Zaeden would do anything for his twin, and when her life was threatened, he would gladly give the thrown to him, and leave him in peace for the rest of his life.
But Liz could not fall prey to charms of King Zaeden. He refused to even imagine the possibilities if she joined his side. Not only would his plans he blown to smithereens, but it would also be the end of he and all who fought for his cause.
He would lose the war, a second time around.
And he could not let that happen.
Liz Parker was the key, the one, his miracle, and he needed to protect her with every fiber of his being, until the war had been won.
Catastrophe would be the outcome if destiny were to intervene.
Like it? Don't? Please tell me! I should be back in a couple of hours with the rest of it.
|posted on 1-Sep-2002 7:48:30 PM by nickeygurl13|
|WHAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOO! *starts running around with no direction, flailing arms and screaming*|
Even MORE people replied! Ooooh, that makes me so happy! * starts giggling insanely*
Alright, deep breaths, deeeep breaths.
Thank you to: roswellluver, Kitcat26, ISLANDGIRL5, frenchkiss70 and IceRose for the wonderful fb. I love you all! *big kisses and hugs*
IceRose: Alright, I'm blushing furiously over here. You flatter me! Here's the new part, please enjoy and REPLY!!!!
frenchkiss70: Yes, Liz is the key. And no, I can't tell you everything about the story. Your questions will be answered in due time. Until then, enjoy the next part.
ISLANGIRL5: OMG!OMG!OMG! I can't believe you actually replied, to MY story!!!! I'm so excited, I'm a huge fan of your work, and you saying that you liked it my idea, ooh, it makes me want to kiss the next person I see on the street! But I shall refrain. Thank you for reading!
Allmighty Cath: Yes, we meet again! Thank you *AGAIN
* for the recommendation! *sending virtual hugz your way* Zaeden? You like Zaeden? Well, the cool factor on that is nothing in comparison to Crizander. Man that's an awesome name. I swear, my first born, it's either gonna be Cath or Crizander. Lol. Excellent word there, Cath. I like it very much. I think I'll start using it in everyday speech now. And don't worry, I love redundancy. It's like, my best friend. And here's s'more, although, I doubt it's what you were hoping for.
On with the show!
“Are you sure this is where we were supposed to meet him Alex?”
“For the last time Liz, yes, we’re meeting him in the café outside the Albuquerque airport.”
“Well, what was the café’s name?”
“La cantina.” Alex says from his chair inside the La Cantina café.
“Geez, Alex, don’t have a cow. I’m just worried that we’re in the wrong place, as there is nothing but desert as far as you can see.”
I look out the window, and yup, I’m right, just sand, rock, and oooh, hey, a cactus.
“Besides Liz, we’re 15 minutes early, just give midget-boy a chance to get here.”
Have I mentioned today how much I love Alex?
I swear, in a past life, we were the same person. That’s how alike we are.
Same sarcastic attitude, same morbid sense of humor, same bitter outlook on life.
Well, okay, Alex has a slightly more happy perspective on his life. But still.
“Ahem.” Nicholas clears his throat, appearing almost out of thin-air.
Man I hate it when he does that. He’s way too sneaky for his own good.
Uh-oh. He looks angry. Must have heard Alex’ not so nice nickname for him.
I’m about to say something to distract Nicholas from tearing off Alex’ head, but Alex beats me to it.
He launches himself at the fourteen year old, knocking the wind out of him.
“Nicky-baby! God, I missed you so much, it’s so good to see you, how’ve you been?” Alex says enthusiastically.
I swear, I have got to get him to stop thinking he’s a Hollywood producer. It’s getting out of hand.
Hahaha. You should see the look on midget-boy’s face. It’s fucking priceless. Where is my camera?
After Alex takes his seat again and the kid recovers from his session of shock therapy, Nick pulls out a wide manila folder, labeled in alien markings across the front, and sets it on top of the table. The café is empty; otherwise we’d be more careful about discussing our mission.
He slides the folder over to me, and I open it up. Inside there is a picture of a very pretty girl, about 18, with information forms paper-clipped to the photo.
One look at her, and I knew. From the books of destiny and historical recounts scattered through out Khivars’ vast library, I knew who the girl was.
“Villondra.” I whispered, entranced.
“Yes, it is Lonnie. Or, as she is now known, Isabel Evans. This is the girl you will be recruiting. Khivar wanted to make sure you were gentle with her, as he is fond of the girl.”
“Lonnie?” Alex spoke up. “As in Villondra Syracuse? Our…. our enemy?”
“Yes, that is she.” Nicholas replied curtly.
Well smack me with the surprised stick. Who would’ve guessed it? Khivar’s moving on with his plans to regain his title of Emperor, and his plans of Universal domination. And he sent me to go get the enemy.
“Well, why’d he send us to go get her? Why not one of his better agents?”
“According to Khivar, you two are the best.”
“Doesn’t inspire much confidence, does it?” Alex said, a smile in his voice.
“No. It really doesn’t.” Nicholas stated, glaring coldly at Alex.
Alex, slightly dispirited, slumped in his chair, crossed his arms and started pouting.
“So, this is the beginning of it then? He’s really going to go through with it?”
“Yes. What better time then the now, right? Anyway, he wanted to make sure I warn you. Stay away from,” Nicholas grabbed the file, and started flipping through pages, till he found the information he was looking for, and shoved it back under my face, “him.” He finished.
I looked down at the picture, and my heart stopped beating.
“His name’s Max Evans, he’s Isabel’s brother.”
“So that’d make him King Zan?” Alex asked, curious.
“Yes, he is Zaeden Syracuse.” Nicholas stated, disapproving of the title ‘King Zan.’
I am still speechless.
Whoa there, what’s that pain in my chest?
I inhale, my body shuddering as I do.
I hope Alex won’t notice.
But, this guy, Zaeden, he is absolutely amazing.
His eyes, they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
They’re light brown, with flecks of honey on the surface.
I could get lost in them forever.
And I want to.
My god, what is wrong with me?
I see a picture of a guy, and I’m spouting poetry like some 21st century Juliet.
And what’s worse, he’s the enemy.
God, can’t you see I’m busy drooling?
“You okay, you kind of zoned out for a second there?”
“Hmmm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Okay, just checking. So, lemme see the file.” Alex says demandingly.
“Hmmm, let me think about it.”
“Come on Liz, please?”
“You’re so evil Parker.”
I laugh. “Trust me, I know.”
Nicholas has already left, ‘cause everything else we need to know is in the case report in the file.
“So,” I say, “looks like you’re gonna have to charm the pants off this girl.”
“Think you can handle it?”
“You bettter believe it!”
“Well, I dunno Alex, she looks like the kinda girl who likes a drop-dead-gorgeous guy…” I say teasingly.
“Whoooooooa, there Parker, take a look at this!” He says, and lifts up his t-shirt, revealing his stomach.
He then lets out his breath, and his small tummy flops back down into place.
“Nice six-pack there, dude.”
“So, lemme see the girl I’m supposed to be flirting with this week.”
I toss the file to him, and he catches it, and opens it up.
And promptly falls out of his chair, onto the ground, with the table landing on top of him.
“Oh my god! Alex, are you all right?” I say, and scramble to remove the table from on top of my best friend.
Alex just sits there, mesmerized by the photo of Isabel. I don’t think he even noticed that he fell yet.
Guess that’s been happening a lot lately.
I pick Alex up off the floor, who is still dazed and slightly out of it.
“Come on Alex, we’ve got a long drive to Roswell.” I say, and we get into our Steel Blue Wrangler Sport, and drive off into the desert, towards the alien capitol of the world, Roswell, New Mexico.
EHEEEHEEEHEEE! *evil laughter* Alright, alright, I promise that the pod squad and the double agents will meet.......soon. Can't guarentee when though. Heehee. I know I know, I want them to meet even more than you do! Maybe in the next part, who knows. Oh, and PLEASE REPLY! LEAVE FB!!!!! PLEASE!!! Hehe, okay, I'm done now. Hope you like!
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 1-Sep-2002 7:51:32 PM ]
|posted on 7-Sep-2002 1:39:35 PM by nickeygurl13|
Okay, yes, I realize it's been a few days since I last posted, and umm, er, I really haven't started the next chapter....yet.
*Ducks behind desk*
Don't stone me yet!
I have very good reasons. Including: Horrible amounts of work to be done in school, my boyfriend broke up with me a couple days ago, lack of inspiration to write with, and I'm just plain lazy.
But I promise that the new very long part will be up by tommorro morning. Maybe even tonight. Who knows.
Thank you so much for all the feedback! It's an amazing thing, and I love it! Back with more soon, I promise!
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 7-Sep-2002 1:40:12 PM ]
|posted on 9-Sep-2002 12:16:42 AM by nickeygurl13|
|A Universe of Death, Chapter Three.|
The guy that came up with counting sheep as a remedy to insomnia, obviously never had it.
That guy should also be shot, in the head, immediately.
Why the hell was it sheep that he was counting, anyway?
Was he a shepherd?
Was he sitting by his window, or out in the field, counting his sheep cause he had nothing better to do?
Well, that can’t be good.
Cause if his screw-balled plan actually did work, then he either a. fell asleep at his window, or b. fell asleep in the cold, wet grass, surrounded by sheep.
That can’t be good for your back.
Oh my gosh! So really, he wasn’t trying to help us sleep at all! He wanted to give all of humanity back pains and morning aches, just to seek his revenge because he couldn’t sleep.
This is amazing! I need to alert the media!
At least it would give me something to do.
If you haven’t guessed yet, I’m asleep right now.
Well, not really, but I figure if I keep lying to myself, my brain will start to believe me, and shut itself off, so that I can get some actual rest.
So far it hasn’t been working.
Well, okay, the main reason for this is probably because every time my eyes start to drop, I inhale another cup of my in-room coffee.
Compliments to the ‘Super Eight’ motel in Dexter, New Mexico.
I know, I know, the hypocrisy of it all.
Truth is, I’m not going to be sleeping tonight.
Just like I haven’t been sleeping for this past week.
Probably explains the giant circles under my eyes.
Thank god for cover up!
I can’t sleep because I know I’ll just have another one of those dreams.
One of those creepy, freaky, scary nightmares.
Which, quite frankly, I don’t feel like having right now.
So I’ll just keep myself up all night, staring at the ceiling.
Or, ooh, hey, idea.
I’ll go bug Alex.
So I tiptoe my way to the door that separates our rooms, open it, and walk in silently.
And Alex looks so peaceful, curled up with his teddy bear in one arm, I decide not to wake him.
Yes, he has a teddy bear.
Alex may look tough, *cough, cough* but on the inside he’s just a big baby.
You know, that other half of the bed does look pretty empty.
Alex won’t mind.
Besides, now, instead of counting sheep I can count the freckles on Alex’ face.
Maybe play connect-the-dots later.
So, I climb into the half of the bed that Alex isn’t occupying.
And the thing is so old, it nearly collapses when I sit on it.
Alex jumps awake, screaming something about evil mutated bullfrogs.
He turns to look at me, and I smile at him innocently.
“Parker, what the hell are you doing here?”
Well, gosh, thanks for the welcoming party, Alex.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you I just, umm, I...”
Come on Parker, you can do this. Come up with a valid lie, you do it all the time. It’s practically in your job description.
“I saw a really big spider in my room, and I got scared.” I say, sounding like a five-year-old.
But I don’t care, because Alex wouldn’t tell anyone.
And if he did, well, he knows I can kick his ass any day of the week.
“A really big spider?” He asks, with one eyebrow raised in question.
“Huge.” I confirm, nodding my head and spreading my arms for emphasis.
He laughs a bit, and goes, “Liz, you are the biggest baby I have ever seen.”
In response to his comment, I hand him his bear, which had fallen over to my side of the bed during his screaming fit.
Ha ha ha. That got him to shut-up.
“Okay, okay. Truce?” He asks.
I take his hand and give it a shake, for good measure.
“Truce.” I say.
“So, am I playing the valiant Knight in shining armor and killing the evil, huge spider, or what?”
You got to love Alex. Always trying to protect me. Note to self: buy Alex really, really, really big ice cream cone when we get to Roswell.
“Nah, that’s okay, I figure it can have the room to itself. It probably wants some privacy.” I say.
Alex gives me the look. The one that says ‘I-need-to-get-Liz-to-the-mental-hospital-before-she-snaps-and-starts-chopping-people-up-with-hatchets-under-the-influence-of-the-voices-in-her-head.’
I think we know each other too well.
“Okay Liz.” Alex says, and gets back into his bed.
I continue to stare at him, with my puppy-dog eyes.
Alex looks up at me, and goes, “Absolutely not Parker. There is no way you are getting the middle of the bed. There’s plenty of room on the sides.”
Add in some pouting lips, and big, pitiful doe-eyes.
Alex and I have an argument with our eyes, over who gets the middle of the bed.
And wouldn’t you know it? I win.
He slides over, and I claim the middle.
Alex starts grumbling something incoherent about girls being bed stealers.
I go, “Well, Alex, are you sure you don’t want the couch?”
“Un uh Parker, my room, my bed and I’m sleeping in it. Sadly, so are you. I’m just going to have to deal with it.”
“Why Alex! I thought you’d be more concerned about your virtue.”
“Nope. You know I’m not that kind of girl, Liz.”
I laugh. “Alright Alex. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
“Yeah, yeah, shut-up and go to sleep Parker.” He says, a warning tone in his voice.
Not wanting to piss off a sleepy Alex, I happily comply.
And we’re driving.
It’s about 12’o clock, and we are just outside of the teeny tiny two-bit town of Roswell, New Mexico.
I pull out the file of information, (compliments to our dear friend Nicky-baby) and re-read the forms about Villondra.
Or, Isabel Evans as she is now known.
Currently resides at 6025 Murray Lane, Roswell.
Is attending West Roswell High School, in her senior year.
Oooh. Interesting. Must live off of daddy dearests’ money.
What does daddy do, then?
Ah. A lawyer. That must be nice.
Blah, blah, blah, come on. Where’s the good stuff?
I flip the page, and tada! I am a genius.
She’s been having family therapy sessions with her mother father and brother every month for the past two years.
She’s been reportedly missing several times, skipping school and running away from home for days at a time, using such excuses as: camping, school projects/trips, sleeping over at a friends house, etc.
During these disappearances, her brother, Max Evans, his girlfriend Tess Harding, their best friend Michael Guerin, and sometimes, their friends Maria Deluca and Kyle Valenti have been reportedly missing as well.
But, it doesn’t really make sense.
Why would the Royal four bring two humans on their alien pow-wow trips?
I’m gonna need to do a background check when I get to Roswell.
Alex pulls up in front of a restaurant with a blaring sign stating that this is in fact, the ‘Crashdown’ café.
But um, aren’t we supposed to be meeting our foster parents?
See, before we made this glorious journey back to the USA, we made a few arrangements.
Alex and I are exchange students from Spain.
I know, I know, what a surprise.
And anyway, we are supposed to be meeting our foster family, right about…yep, now.
I go, “Hey, Alex, I know you must be hungry, and um, this really, really looks like a fantastic place to stuff ourselves with greasy, fatty, deep-fried foods, but we have to go, and meet the people that are housing our exchange student-y selves.”
“Well, yes, and this apparently is the address at which we are meeting them.”
“They live in a restaurant?” I ask, confused.
“No, Parker, they live above the restaurant, that they own.”
“What were their names again, anyway?” I ask, forgetting already.
Alex looks down and glances at a piece of paper.
“Um, the Delucas.” He says.
Hmm. That sounds strangely familiar.
Wait just a damn minute.
I grab the sheet of paper Alex was looking at, as he gets out of the car.
Who would have guessed it?
I will be living with Maria Deluca for the next couple of weeks. Maria Deluca is friends with Isabel. If I’m friends with Maria, I’m friends with Isabel. My job just got a whole lot easier.
I do so love having a plan.
Alex is already inside the alien themed restaurant, so I hurry to catch up.
Inside, we take a seat in an empty booth, and try to contain our laughter as we look around the café.
It’s worse than I thought.
There’s a mural of paintings of aliens and spaceships and flying saucers.
The waitresses wear antennae.
And mint green dresses, with silver alien heads as their apron.
Alex looks like he’s about to die if he doesn’t laugh soon.
A bouncy, bubbly, blonde waitress approaches our table, asking us what we’d like.
Alex is having trouble breathing, because her antennae headband is bobbing back and forth.
I guess I’ll be the one talking then.
“Actually, we were wondering if we could see Amy Deluca?”
“Oh, mom went on an errand, but she’ll be back in about an hour. Can I help you?”
“Yeah. I’m Liz Parker and this is Alex Whitman, and we were su-…”
“Oh, mygosh! You guys are the foreign exchange students? I had no idea! You speak such perfect English! Or at least, you do. He hasn’t said much, is he all right? I can’t believe you two are finally here, me and my mom were so excited that we could be your hosting family, I’m Maria Deluca by the way, and this is my mom’s restaurant, we live upstairs. Where are your bags, we should go and take them up, I can show you around, give you the grand tour. Oh, are you hungry though, I mean it must have been a long trip, all the way from Spain, my gosh. Where in Spain anyway? Oooh, hang on…OH I know, um, Hola, recepción a América. Was that right? I’ve been practicing, cause we didn’t know if you guys knew English or not.” She stops to breathe, and before she could continue, Alex cuts her off.
“Hey Maria, it’s nice to meet you. Our bags are outside, so, I’ll just run and get them.” He says, and hurries out the door.
Guess he was a little intimidated by Miss. Deluca.
But really, now, who wouldn’t be.
So, Alex has left me alone with Maria.
Have I mentioned what a wonderful best-friend Alex is?
Maria continues talking at about 1000 plus words per minute, and I continue pretending to listen.
I know, I know, how rude of me.
Yeah, well, I was never known for my people skills.
Maria gets up, and walks through the ‘employees only’ door, and I follow.
After stopping and chatting, and introducing me to Jose, the fry cook, we continue up a flight of stairs that lead to the Deluca’s apartment.
“So, anyway, since it’s just my mom and I, there’s only one guest room, so I guess you and I will have to share.” Maria says, a little sheepishly.
Oh, yay. Ah well, I don’t care, I won’t be here long if things go well.
“Hmm. Oh that’s okay, I don’t mind at all. Sorry that we’re taking over your home.”
“Oh NO! It’s not like that at all! My gosh, your so nice!”
Hahaha. I really, really don’t get that a lot.
“Umm, not really, but thanks, I guess.”
I also don’t get complimented a lot.
I wonder why that is?
Maria gives me this weird look, and we help Alex with the bags, and set him up in the guest room.
Then we move on to Maria’s room.
It’s so cool; it’s got a giant balcony with a ladder leading to an alley on the side of the café.
It’s also adorned with candles, Christmas lights, and lawn furniture.
Okay, really I like it because it’s about 50 times the size as my old room.
Depressing, isn’t it?
After we get the ‘grand tour’ of our new home, we go back downstairs to get some lunch.
While Maria is working her shift, and Alex and I are picking at a plate of plasmic space fries, a tall, intimidating guy with shaggy brown hair comes up to our table.
He just stands there, staring at some invisible spot on the countertop, and goes, “You’re sitting at my table.” Without bothering to look up, at Alex or me.
Alex goes “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re new here, we’ll move.”
I go “Sorry, but I didn’t see a name tag on it. Guess you’ll just have to sit in another booth.”
He goes “You’re sitting at my table.”
Ooh. This guy’s fun.
I position myself so that my face is directly under this guy’s intense stare at the table.
He doesn’t blink.
Again, he says, “You’re sitting at my table.”
“Yep, yep we are. Is that a problem?”
He repeats his montage again.
Alex just sits there, pretending that he doesn’t know me, reading his car magazine.
I should really stop embarrassing him so much in public.
He probably has a reputation to up keep.
“You’re sitting at my table.”
God, what is with this guy?
There are six other unoccupied tables in this café.
I bet he sits here everyday.
And orders the same food everyday.
And eats with the same people everyday.
He must not like change.
Just like everybody else in this small town.
Haha. Guess Alex and I are going to be shattering their perfect unchanged world.
A voice rings out from the kitchen.
“Michael, what the fuck are you doing to them? Leave them alone!” Maria screeches.
Everybody in the café turns in our direction.
Alex waves, and goes “Nothing to see here folks. Just some pent up rage, you know how it gets. Bu bye now.”
He loves the attention.
Maria rushes to our booth, and says “Sorry Liz. This is my boyfriend, Michael Guerin, and he’s just being an asshole right now. Please excuse him.”
Michael grumbles something to Maria about people stealing his table, and Maria punches him in the arm, and shoves him down into the booth, and, much to his discomfort, right next to Alex.
And Neanderthal man continues to stare at the countertop.
Alex goes “So, how long have you and Maria known each other?”
Michael grunts and continues staring.
Whoo boy. It’s going to be a long afternoon.
|posted on 9-Sep-2002 12:24:13 AM by nickeygurl13|
|AN: Thank you guys so much! Special thanks go to Kitcat26, Meagzie, IceRose, frenchkiss70, marteloise, RosBaby and KEmperor for all of the wonderful, heartwarming feedbacks and bumps. I love you all!|
*hugs computer screen*
Sorry that this took so long to get out, I promise that chapters will be flowing faster later this week.
Hope you all like this chapter. Please read and reply.
*~*Hugs, kisses and chocolate.*~*
|posted on 10-Oct-2002 9:08:00 AM by nickeygurl13|
Yes, amazing, it is me!
I know I just barely started this fic, and that we only have three parts up so far, but I just haven't been well enough to write for the past month.
I'll spare you guys the details, but I've got an evil case of mycloplasma pneumonia, and I just haven't had the energy to write.
I promise though, I'm getting better, cause, well, see, I made it to the computer! (Yay!)
New chapters should be getting going in about a week, and I am truly truly sorry to all of those who are still reading this. Thank you for your wonderful support and bumps. I love ya all!
Sorry again, -Nickey
|posted on 1-Dec-2002 8:09:00 PM by nickeygurl13|
|It's alive, IT'S ALIVE! Mwahahaha.|
H-e-llo to all!
I'm just dropping the message that I am indeed alive, and well, and writing. Yay! Chapter Four is done, and Chapter Five is in the making. For the StarGazers among us, you're gonna enjoy chapter five. I hope. Maybe. Please?
Anywho! Look at the marvelous banner that the talented, wonderful, stupendurrific, fantabulous, Meagzie has made me. I would just like to add that I am not worthy.
Thank you all for the bumps, and being so patient with me and my horrendously slow writing patterns. I promise, chapters will be coming faster from here on out. Until finals show up. Eeek. Let's not think about that...
Be back soon!
[ edited 2 time(s), last at 3-Dec-2002 12:38:32 AM ]
|posted on 1-Dec-2002 8:27:03 PM by nickeygurl13|
|De-amn girl, that was fast!|
Why, if I had half a brain I'd think you were stalking me! But I don't so, obviously....
Weirdness is good. And besides, if you're weird, I don't even want to THINK about the word people's use to describe me....*shudder*
And, no! I not gonna post until Five is done. Unless there's some serious begging. *Cackle* I know I know, I'm evil, this has been established.
Hmm, maybe I'll compromise...Cath writes chapter eight of SIRT, and I'll write my butt off all night and post tomorro afternoon....agreed? PLEASE!?!?!
I missed you guys too, and I'm terribly sorry that my computer skills are nada, cause otherwise you'd be seeing the beeuteeful banner. *Sigh* Alright, I'm done blabberig, I'll go and chain myself to Microsoft Word and get typing!
|posted on 1-Dec-2002 11:15:57 PM by nickeygurl13|
|HAHA! Lookie, lookie, it worked, it worked!|
::Dancing around wildly:
Okay I'll stop now, Allah knows we don't want a repeat of the Furniture Masacre.
But that's a different story...
Ahem: THANK YOU MEAGZ!!
Love you very much!
Isn't it beautiful. I told you guys it was beuatiful.
........ Isn't it beautiful? *Happy sigh*
Yes, Meagz, you deserve part Four, you all deserve chapters four to a gazzilion billion, but alas, I'm not willing to part with it quite yet.
BTW, thank you to all readers, bumbers, stalkers, and insane buddies of this fic: qt4167013, skyiris, aZNroSweLl anglgrl (WELCOME join in on the insanity, it a FUN ride) KEmperor, frenchkiss70 (now dubbed bumping queen) LixMix5, Rosandra May, Treefrogie84, RosBaby, Angel eyes, IceRose, marteloise, roswellluver, ISLANDGIRL5, Nikkisue, Lady_without_a_clue, clueless, and of course Meagz and Cath. You are all very very insane people. (Ment in the happiest way)
Just a bumping....
|posted on 2-Dec-2002 10:47:53 PM by nickeygurl13|
|Bahhh. You two are just about the funniest peoples I know. BUmpith/Postith? Ahh well, if we can use words like fantuburiffic, we can certainly add 'ith' to everything we sayith. It'll be....|
fun. No, really. **
*Sigh* I'm disappointed in myself. 1. I can't spell disappointed without Word, and 2. I didn't get five done. Working on it, almost ready, but not quite. So, I guess I'm gonna have to let off on the evil scheme, and give you wonderfully crappy part four. *grumble*
Here we go....
And I’m sitting.
Currently staring at Maria’s bedroom ceiling.
Waiting for the bomb to hit.
Maria’s preparing some sort of witch’s brew in the kitchen, and Alex and I are waiting, rather impatiently, in Maria’s room.
I think it’s some sort of newbies-in-town-sacrificial-ritual.
Or some sick, twisted, teenaged girl’s idea of bonding time.
This is me. Screaming in terror on the inside, playing it cool on the outside.
My idea of being cool is chewing my nails.
Oh yes, cool as a…cucumber?
In what time period did cucumbers become cool?
Is this like, a vegetable revolution now?
See, when I was young, veggies were the axis of all evil, to be avoided at all costs.
Now though? Well, would you believe it? They’re considered a part of the in crowd.
When did this happen, and why did nobody tell me?
Yeah, yeah, I’m babbling. Who cares? My thoughts, my rules.
Note to self: Ask Alex about origin of cool factors on cucumber.
Speak of the devil; want to know what Alex is doing right now?
Hiding under Maria’s bed, quivering.
I think he’s got Ted down there too.
You know, Ted. Short for Teddy? Teddy Bear?
Come on, what’s wrong with you people!
National let’s-all-take-hours-to-figure-things-out-day is not until next week.
Anyway, he’s scared of the ritual as well.
Just a little bit more passionately than I am.
See, Alex saw the way Maria handled Michael when he was ‘misbehaving’ earlier today.
Now, I think he practically wets his pants every time he sees the girl.
I know you must be curious, but I’ll spare you the details of what happened this afternoon, mainly because they’re far too gruesome for even me to relive.
Let’s just say we’ve both made note not to ever, ever, ever piss Maria off.
There’s a brief knock on the door, before it is slammed open, and a cheery, bouncy, hyperactive, Ben and Jerry’s carrying Maria skips in.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Hey Liz, hey Ale…Liz where’s Alex?”
Alex popped his head out from under the bed.
Maria just stares for a few seconds.
“I was uh, umm, checking for monsters?”
My witty side decides to attend reality for a moment, and goes “The first movie Alex saw on the plane was Monsters Inc. He really hasn’t recovered.”
Maria just nods her head, her lips in a perfect ‘o’ shape, like she knows exactly what Alex is going through.
I swear I don’t associate with these people. Honest.
Maria plops down on the bed next to me, and Alex follows suit after he’s shook off the cobwebs and mismatched socks that came from under Maria’s bed.
We should really just get it over with and rename this story A Universe of Eww. It’d make way more sense anyway.
But then, we’d have to cut out all of the upcoming death scenes in the story, and where’s the fun in that?
“So My Foreign Exchange Student-y friends, it is time for you to tell me your life story.”
Alex glances down at his watch, and goes “It is?”
“It is.” Maria confirms.
I go “ And how exactly do you plan on doing that? What if it’s top secret information?”
“Puh-lease, chica, are you blind? Look at what I have, Ben & Jerry’s finest, double chocolate fudge brownie toffee-crunch mix!”
Maria just gets an exasperated look on her face and then turns to Alex.
“Is she usually this dense?”
Alex pauses for a moment, head tilting upward in consideration.
“Me have chocolate. You don’t. Me not giving you chocolate until you do exactly as I say. Comprende?
Damnit. This Maria girl, she’s evil. Evil I tell you! How could one being be so cruel as to withhold someone from getting chocolate? Especially if said someone was a rehabilitating chocoholic?
Maria squeals and settles in more comfortably, obviously preparing for what I presume to be a very, very, very long conversation.
Damn this girl and her mischievous ways.
“So, how the heck did you two end up in Spain?”
“What do you mean?” Alex asks.
“Well, you obviously weren’t born there. And you guys speak way too much English for Spanish speaking people. So, you’ve got to be from around here. Or not. Maybe England. But wait, no then, you’d have the whole British thing going for you. You were definitely born in the U.S.”
“Your logic in no way resembles our earth logic. Please explain.” Alex deadpans.
Maria rolls her eyes, probably wondering why she was sent two such helpless fools.
“Okay, okay you caught us. We grew up in Illinois.”
“Illinois? Illinois? Good god, who lives in Illinois?”
And so, for the next hour, out spews the things Alex and I haven’t had the courage to talk about in years. The long forgotten details of our pathetic little existences makes themselves known, and maybe we’ve made ourselves feel just a little less guilty.
Of course, we have our little white lies peak into the conversation every now and then.
Our parents took us to Spain for a summer vacation and we never left.
Grew up living the happily ever after fairy tale.
She buys it, which is a good thing, though; it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t.
More memories come flying my way as Alex un-roots the things he’s been dying to tell someone (other than me) for years.
I’m remembering Kensington Road, and the small suburban houses tracing down it.
I’m remembering the two-story house, with fresh blue paint drying in the spring air.
I’m remembering my mother’s voice, humming a Christmas carol while baking sugar cookies.
I’m remembering my father, pushing a wooden swing while a small girl I can barely recognize giggles in the air.
I’m remembering the time Alex and I spent hours laying in the town’s only baseball field, staring at the clouds, with not a care in the world.
I’m remembering Khivar’s face looming above mine, and all of the people I’ve helped him kill.
The guilt comes crashing back down in shockwaves, and I close my eyes with the intensity of it.
What the hell is going on?
I don’t deserve this.
I don’t deserve Alex, or Maria, or talking about my happy little naïve childhood.
I don’t deserve such happy, fuzzy, little assets.
I don’t deserve to be alive right now.
I’ve said that my live is terrible, haunting, unlivable.
Remember though, I made it that way.
This is my fault, I created this mess.
I know you’re all just dying to tell me that no, I deserve to be happy.
That I was forced into such situations with Khivar.
That it isn’t my fault.
Well, I’m just dying to tell you all to get over it. Move on, deal with it, cause I have.
Anyway, back to reality for a moment.
This whole, bonding thing, this really isn’t a part of the plan.
This has to end, like, now.
Fake a yawn, say you’re tired, ignore what’s happened.
It’s been done before.
Alex shuffles to the guest room, Maria switches of the lights and I collapse onto the cot set-up near the window.
I stare up at the ceiling and realize that I need a new plan.
Fine there you go. Maybe Five will be done tonight, or tomorro morning. Definitely by tomorro night. I swear. I'm really really sorry about the sucky part four, and no part five.
|posted on 4-Dec-2002 1:09:32 AM by nickeygurl13|
| Well heeeeeello there. Technically it's still tonight on Seattle time. So I made my deadline! Sort of. Okay, it's only the teaser type thingy, but I had to give you guys something. Hope you enjoy. |
Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making him more nervous with each hurried step.
His heart thundered loud in his chest, so loud he could have sworn deaf children in Europe could have heard it.
There was something very wrong, he could tell.
Ever since he had seen those two sitting inside the Crashdown, something inside of him had been churning nervously, alerting him to the danger.
He hurried across the street, and as the neon lights came into view he relaxed slightly.
He could remember having this feeling before.
This was the same feeling he’d had when they’d met their dupes, when Max was taken to the White Room, when Maria had been shot at the Crashdown.
Isabel always said he took his job as second in command too seriously.
He hauled himself up the steel ladder leading from the dark alley up to a brick balcony.
He swung his legs effortlessly over the railing, and knocked his knuckles nervously over the cold glass of his girlfriends’ bedroom window.
A figure stirred, turned over to face the window, but then relaxed and settled again.
What the hell was that?
Then, another shadowy figure rose, stepped over the first, and clambered out of the room and on to the balcony.
Maria looked expectantly at Michael for a millisecond before her face turned into one of pure annoyance.
“Michael, what the hell are you doing here at two in the morning?”
Michael feigned innocence while trying to calm his livid girlfriend.
“What, can’t a guy come and visit the girl he loves?”
“At two in the morning? Hell no!”
Michael sighed, this might take a while.
“Maria, I’m sorry, I just, I was, uhm…”
Come on, be a man. Just tell her.
“You were…?” Maria prompted, growing increasingly flustered.
“Look, I was just…”
“You were just…?”
Was she mocking him? She had better not be mocking him, beca-… Oh, what was the point? Maria would win about 98% of their fights; he’d better not start one up now.
“Look, I was just a little worried about you, Ok?
Maria’s stern face softened, and Michael watched as the emotions played across her sparkling blue eyes.
“Worried? About me? Why?” she asked quietly.
“I was just having a nightmare, or something, and I just got this feeling, that, you know, something wasn’t right. And I thought that with those two here and all, the feeling I was getting might’ve been coming from you. So I came over here just to make sure that you were ok, and that I was only upset over the nightmare.”
Maria’s lips twitched at this, and she forced down a smile that was determined to make itself known.
Through the dim glow of the Christmas lights adorning her balcony, Michael saw this, and could barely suppress a smile of his own.
“So, um, you want to come in?” Maria asked, turning back to her window, and climbing in.
Michael followed, shutting the window behind him. He tried making his way through the darkened room, but stumbled over an unseen pillow, and went barreling forward.
A giggle was heard, before “Way to go slick.” Was intoned from a sarcastic Maria.
“Shut-up. Night vision was not instilled in the alien package you know.” Michael said, as he picked himself up and grabbed hold of the main frame of the cot where Liz lay sleeping.
As his hand made contact with the makeshift bedding, his brain blanked out a moment, before being flooded with images. Thousands of them coming into his mind so quickly, he barely even had time to register what was happening.
“Michael, are you alright?” A faint voice asked from somewhere in the distance, though, he couldn’t tell whose.
The images came pouring in faster and faster; his head felt like it would explode if this didn’t stop soon.
“Michael? Michael! Oh my god, what’s wrong?” The voice came again, and he tried to hold onto it, before he was buried alive by the sea of flashes.
He sank to the ground, and let forth a wild, strangled cry, and with that, sank into unconsciousness.
Hopefully back by Thursday afternoon with more. See you then! Hugs, kisses, and bags of Hershey Chocolate all given to you.