posted on 7-Nov-2002 2:19:31 AM by TeddyBehrJKT

Title Mean Moon
Author Pathos & TeddyBehrJKT aka The Antarian Sisterhood
Category Uncompromisingly ML, a little cliffhangin' that might turn CC near the end. AU post TWR.
Rating NC17
Summary Based on katrina's TWR challenge (#3) (Thank you, katrina!!) though we've taken some artistic license with it.

Basically, it's a what if Max didn't get out of the White Room until much, much later story.

Disclaimer We don't own Roswell though wish we did. Yellow Light, from where we got our title is by Remy Zero. We mean no infringement so please don't sue.

Authors' Note We're planning on making this very altra -- dark, angsty, with disturbing themes. Characters we don't like will not receive any stay of execution. While we promise that this is a dreamer fic, the road to a happy even after is gonna be rocky. You have been warned. *angel* Feedback as always is much appreciated.

We're totally committed to this fic but since both of us have major "editing" imperatives, updates might take longer than our usual. Those who read our current stories on the board will know what we're talkin' about. *wink*

-- Pathos & TeddyBehrJKT


Hey, I can't get my head straight,
Of words we're twenty blocks too late.
Now the devil is in my face;
She seems to be looking down.
And hey, have you heard about Mr. Crow?
Well, I think so but I don't know.
Well, you can't let your panic show.
My bones is beginning to shake,
Reach out your hollow flame,
Oh, you're hangin' so weird and strange,
Oh, your darkest days,
They're just beginning now ... ohhh...

And hey, got to move all across this thing,
As the moon has made everything mean.
Now it tears apart my brain,
My bones is beginning to shake.
Reach out your hollow flame...
Ohh you're hangin' so weird and strange,
Ohh, your darkest days,
They're just beginning now ... ohhh ...

Come and leave somehow, lights to the world
The sun is rising.
From the moon and the earth to the stars.
Simple wings are simply pulled apart.

My bones is beginning to shake.
Reach out your hollow flame...
Ohh you're hangin' so weird and strange...
Ohh, your brightest days,
They're just ending ... ohhh...
Your darkest days,
They're just beginning now ... ohh...

- Remy Zero, Yellow Light


Summer 2004
Cambridge, MA

The truth was the only insulation he'd deemed necessary against the pain. Truth to blunt the piercing stab he'd undoubtedly feel when confronted with this enemy. As usual, where she was concerned, he was wrong. He felt nothing. Which, upon further reflection, was only right. She was merely a pawn, a cipher, a means to an end. She no longer held any significance to him. Her ability to hurt him had been lost with the last shred of his innocence, a lifetime ago. And now, nerves so finely attuned to pain slumbered in its absence as he continued to watch her. As he watched her with him.

Perhaps nothing was a whimsical exaggeration, he thought with some magnanimity.

Surprise. That was what he felt. She was still beautiful. That didn't surprise him so much. But his recognition of her still innocent beauty, considering his recognition of who she really was...he snorted lightly. That was damn near shocking. Yet it was all still there. Her hair was still long, longer, even than he remembered. The movements of her slim, petite body, still graceful. Her smile still Mona Lisa serene as she thanked the dark haired man for helping her with her luggage even as she stepped out from under the hand that attempted to rest on her arm. Her expression was still open. Honest. Carefree. As if the last four years had done nothing to change her outlook.

Stupid bitch.

Little slut.

With an almost clinical detachment he wondered which epithet suited her better. If she truly believed that her off-campus summer class elective wasn't the ruse it was, then she had to be the stupidest bitch on the planet. And if her fucking a murderer, even if he'd been wearing his face at the time, were any indication, she'd always been a heartless slut who would spread her legs for anyone who happened to resemble him superficially.

Either way, it didn't much matter. And yet, he almost ached for the familiar way the sunlight rippled through her hair. Almost. Sense memory wanted to reach out and stroke the soft silkiness he knew he'd find in the thickness of her tresses. He bit down on the rashness of the impulse. A rose by any other name still had thorns.

And hers were coated with the venom of betrayal.

He'd been waiting for too long. They should have been on the way. But there she was. Flirting. With some other dark haired fool. He watched with a predatory amber gaze as she closed the trunk of a fairly beat-up sedan. Now that school was out, her eyesore of a car didn't stick out as much from among the gleaming, high-ticket vehicles on campus. In fact, her old clunker could have comfortably kept company the jeep he used to drive.

Back when he still believed in dumb-ass shit like soul mates and innocence and a love written in the stars.

The time before he'd become everything his captors insisted he'd always been. And more.

He nearly gave a shout of unamused laughter at the farce playing out before him. Her dark eyes were soft as she shook her head gently at whatever her latest victim had suggested. As she refused his offer, the silken fall of her hair swayed in a come-on all the more potent for being calculatedly subtle. The fool just nodded his rapt understanding. He supposed he couldn't begrudge the smitten idiot that; he remembered with clarity what it was to be beguiled.

By a melting gaze that made you feel you were the only man on this or any other world for her.

By a shy smile that caused your heart to swell with a surfeit of besotted happiness.

By honeyed words that promised a universe of unconditional, unquestioning love.

Lies. All of them.

The tall, dark haired boy continued to linger and his patience wore thin. He could destroy him from here, he mused. But the weak being before him wasn't fit to be considered competition. And he'd have her soon enough.

Finally her fool was gone. She was now carefully stashing a top of the line notebook on the front seat. Trust her to have her priorities straight. She rounded the hood of the car and was opening the driver's door.

Time to get this show on the road.

He sauntered up and softly called out to her.

She whirled around, disbelief and fake happiness in her big, brown eyes. As she ran up to him, he noted dispassionately that even after four plus years, she still had that breathless, demure look in her arsenal of deceit. It was exactly as he'd always pictured it. Before he knew it for the lie it was. Before he knew her, the liar.

He cradled her face in his palms, leaning in as though to kiss her, and sliding his fingers through her hair. He gazed deeply into her eyes while he forced a one-way connection between them.

Her doe eyes rounded in fear. Her hands came up to try and tear his away while his mouth curled up at the corners in a gruesome imitation of mirth.

Before she lost consciousness from his merciless attack she gasped out one question.


Why are you doing this to me? WHY?

He blinked, completely surprised, once again. What had she expected? After everything she'd brought down upon his head...did she think he would forget? Or for that matter, forgive? He held her against him as her legs buckled, cupping her head so that anyone watching simply saw their tender lovers' reunion. His fingers tightened convulsively in her hair. With easy detachment he acknowledged that he'd been right about that, at least. It was still as soft as he remembered. And she was still exactly what he knew her to be.


Las Vegas, NM

Ex-Special Agent Daniel Pierce stared thoughtfully at the Sig Sauer P226 in his left hand, weighing it, feeling the side arm's heft, its power.

Thou are weighed in the balance, and art found wanting.

Half-forgotten lessons came rushing back and although he had never been a religious man, he found himself drawn to the message and its ominous overtones. He refused, however, to believe that his biblical namesake's pronouncement could apply to him. For it was not to Daniel Pierce that the handwriting on the wall pertained. Those words had been scrawled in another language for the perusal of his foe.

This temporary cessation of hostilities was just that. Temporary. The clock stopped for a time-out. It would eventually resume its countdown, ticking off the hours, minutes, seconds to Max Evans' doom. And the remaining degree of uncertainty in the outcome would make his win all the more... piquant.

He knew now to appreciate that that was why he hadn't immediately killed Max Evans when the orbs didn't work. Why this escape had to occur. The draught of victory would be all the more intoxicating for having had more time to mature.

He pictured his opponent's final moments: there he would be, pressing the gun to the soft underside of the jaw of Max Evans' beloved, holding her struggling body in front of him in the very best tradition of human shields, while his adversary begged for mercy. But there would be no leniency forthcoming, even if Max was pathetic enough to believe there was a chance to save her or himself. There never had been. Neither of them would walk away, breathing, from that final confrontation. He wondered vaguely if he should kill her before or after her alien lover. Her betrayal of her planet would not go unpunished. And now that she was no longer needed to hold Max in check…she’d be put down with the rest of the freaks she’d chosen over her duty to humanity.

He frowned in annoyance. It was hard to reconcile his vision of a groveling Max Evans with his memory of his increasingly resistant former captive. The remorseless monster who, with his cohorts, had blasted the lab with enough power to level the entire structure. He shifted and his broken ribs protested the movement. The injury was just one of many he sustained during his prisoners' escape, testament to that enemy's strength.

But he - Daniel Pierce - was infinitely stronger than his opponent. He had righteousness on his side.

Admittedly, Max Evans was powerful. And he was an intelligent leader. Pierce had grossly underestimated him and, over the years, had apparently added to the freak's alien ammunitions cache. But for all his powers, Max Evans was still mortal. And Daniel Pierce didn't need the very latest conventional or unconventional firepower to destroy him.

A well-placed bullet, even from a nearly decade old weapon, would suffice. One gun to end it, much like how one gun started it. He wondered if Max would appreciate how damn poetic that was.

He looked down at the surveillance photograph labeled PARKER, E., (05/21/04) that along with the hard copy files on EVANS, M.; EVANS, I.; and GUERIN, M. lay on his father's battered desk in his childhood home. They constituted the remains of Daniel Pierce's life's work to date. The only reason the files and the photograph had escaped intact was due to his foresight in storing them off-site.

As he desultorily leafed through the inches-thick file on Max Evans, he recalled how his daddy - God bless his soul - used to tell him, 'Son, you got nothing to prove.' But his father had been wrong; the former Las Vegas, New Mexico sheriff who had died in the line of duty had set such a fine example that it was only right that Daniel Pierce should live up to it.

Beyond avenging the martyrs who had given up their lives in this noble cause, he would offer to his father's memory the spoils of his crusade to protect and serve the people of Earth from being colonized by extraterrestrials.

Pierce didn't need to relocate to another lab, another white room just yet, and rebuilding a jail to house three of the most dangerous beings ever to walk the earth was not really necessary.

They would all be terminated with extreme prejudice. ASAP.

His men would hunt down and destroy Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin. But Daniel Pierce? To him fell the glory of putting down Max Evans.

It would be his legacy and the Bureau would finally accord him the respect and distinction he deserved.

Now, all he needed, hell all he'd ever needed, was Liz Parker.


Should we keep going?

[ edited 3 time(s), last at 11-Jan-2003 5:16:04 PM ]
posted on 25-Dec-2002 4:41:30 AM by TeddyBehrJKT
To our beloved readers and friends -

katrina, J, BelevnDreamsToo, frenchkiss70, roswellluver, Jbehrbabe, cglenn, Cass of the Netherworlds, AlienDreamer101, clueless, begonia9508, Araxie HRH, lm_roswell, I_LOVE_NICK, LPorter, SansuCry, YonkersMe, TeanHoney, sugarplum17, b4echstarrynite, Aussie_Dreamer, crazeesmilee

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!! *happy*

This is the other half of the Antarian Sisterhood, checking in on Christmas day to assure all of you that I have not given up on this fic, and once RL and other issues let up a bit, you can be sure that I will be buckling down to continue this "bumpy" ride.

Thank you once again for your support and virtual luvin' *big* and for not forgetting us.

Till then, all my love and Christmas prayers,
*angel* Niki aka TeddyBehrJKT

[ edited 1 time(s), last at 25-Dec-2002 4:44:10 AM ]
posted on 14-Jan-2003 12:34:34 AM by TeddyBehrJKT
We haven't forgotten and we ARE working on it, we truly are. *happy*

A little mowre patience, pwease?