Title: Stranglehold
Author: Sugarplum17
Disclaimer: The characters, the song and the town don’t belong to me. The plot however, I’m thinkin it does.
Rating: I’d say R, it’s very dark.
Warning: Like I just said, this is dark. Its got some abuse and death.
Summary: After seven long years of searching, Max finds Tess and his son. Back on Earth. What does he do? Read on. Max POV.
Author’s Notes: The song is Stranglehold by Ted Nugent. I took the title from that song. And this is really, really dark. Kind of weird and creepy. I know that I’m supposed to be taking a break from fic, but this popped into my head and I was compelled to write it. But there probably won’t be too many more after this. It’s 1/1.

Finally. After five long years I’d found her. My long search had finally ended. I’d learned from a very reliable source, that Tess was back on Earth, with my son. I’d packed up my truck after learning the general area that they were in, and I’d left Roswell.

It took me two extra years to find her in Michigan. I’d searched every square inch of Illinois, Wisconsin, and Ohio. I scanned the faces of small boys, the faces of their blond mothers. I had no idea what my son would look like, although I imagined him to look something like I did when I was little. I had started to search Michigan, when I found her in a small town, Saline.

I was parked in the parking lot of some park behind a school, disguised in a ratty old hat of Michael’s, a pair of dark sun glasses and a beard. Carefully watching her as she watched my son. I watched as she got up from her blanket and stalked over to the small dark haired boy with big ears and piercing blue eyes, who stood crying in the middle of the play structure. I watched as she yelled something at him. I watched as he stopped crying and sucked up the pain for his mother, the pain from his mother. I watched as she grabbed his hand and jerked him towards the blanket, and as he was lugged behind. I watched as she grabbed their things and pulled him towards her car.

I’d be watching them for two weeks. Learning their habits, their routines. I watched, as she would yell at him, as she hit him. Starting up the car I made my decision. This would be the day it would stop.
I followed her to her house and got out of my truck. Standing behind a tree and listening.
“Get out of the car and go to your room Dylan! If you can’t take it like a man I don’t even want to look at you! You get more like your pansy ass dad every day!” She said as she slammed the car door. Taking a deep breath I stepped out from behind my tree.
“Thank god for that.”
She whirled around, and looked at me, startled.
“Max!” She yelled, startled. I took off the glasses and looked around before waving a hand over my face to remove the beard.
“In the flesh.” I said as she backed away from me and towards her house. As I watched her inch away from me, afraid to make any sudden movements I cracked a small but bitter smile. “What’s wrong Tess?”
“N-Nothing.” She said, eyeing me as I started walking towards her. “How did you find us?” She asked, keeping her eyes on me but waving her hand at my son, motioning for him to come to her. He glanced from me to his mother, and he went to her. Causing her to smile, as if she were throwing it in my face. As if he was choosing her over me. Hugging him to her body, her smile got bigger, “Well, I’m so glad you decided to stop by for a visit. I’d invite you in but the house isn’t ready for company.”

As she opened the door, she pushed Dylan inside and turned to go in herself. But in an instant I was behind her, closing the door and crushing her up against it.
“My visit isn’t over yet my dear.” I said in a cold, hard, menacing voice as I gripped the back of her neck and pushed her head further into the door. Gaining a small glint of satisfaction when she moaned out in pain. Not releasing my hold on her neck, I opened the door and pushed her into the house. Closing it behind me, I sealed the door shut and pulled out the alien device I had stole from Brody. The one he used to block our powers when he held us hostage that one time, and turned it on. “Wouldn’t want you mind warping me, or digging around inside my head to erase memories now would I?” I gave a look around the room finally settling them on my son.
“You better not hurt him Max. Kivar will be home any minute.” She threatened, lying through her teeth. I chuckled softly, tearing my eyes from my son and casting them on Tess. My chuckle became a deep throaty laughter.
“What’s so damn funny?!”
“You are Tess.” I managed to say. “You tell my son that I’m a pansy ass, but you’re terrified of me, and you cower when you see me. You know I’ve been watching you for some time now, you must’ve figured that out by now. Yet you lie through your teeth and tell me Kivar will be home any minute. We both know that he won’t.”

“And the fact that you’d even think of telling me not to hurt my own son? Hilarious.”
“Why’s that so fucking funny?” Kneeling down, I was face to face with her. My features had turned from soft and amused to cold and hard. Whispering into her face so that only she could hear I replied, “Because the only person I want to hurt in this house, is you.”

Standing up, I walked over to my son. “I’m Maxwell Phillip Evans. Your dad.” I said sticking out my hand for him to take. He looked at me hesitantly looked at his mother and then reaching out his little hand and grasping mine he shook it. “Dylan Alexander Harding. Your son.” Alexander? How fitting, considering the fact that she killed Alexander Charles Whitman to get Dylan Alexander Harding.
“Well, Dylan Alexander...it’s nice to meet you. I’ve been looking for you, for a very long time.” Looking up at me, his little lips curved into a smile. “I know.”

“Aw, how sweet.” Tess said sarcastically from behind me. “Now that you’ve met, let me show you to the door.”
“I’m not going anywhere Tess.” I said not bothering to turn around, or take my eyes off of my beautiful son. His eyes drifted from me to his mother and back to me again and turning around I was just in time to stop Tess from bringing a lamp crashing down on my neck. I asked Dylan then to bring me some rope or something, and when he returned with handcuffs I put them on Tess. A cheap child’s toy, but it would have to do.

I called Michael back at the hotel next. When I’d first found them, I called him in Roswell and told him that I needed him. He’d come, no questions asked. When he first got here he wanted to do this in true Michael style. Go in there, guns blazing take the kid and leave. He would’ve done it too, had I not explained to him and made him see what would happen if we did it his way. I had to painstakingly explain to him, that Tess would never allow someone to take what she wanted. He’d said something along the lines of “She allowed Liz take you.”
I’d laughed and asked him if he was stupid. Tess had never wanted me; she just wanted something from me. And in the end, she got what she wanted because she always did. One way or another. I told him that she never allowed Liz to have me, to take me. To take what she and I both wanted her to take. Tess got there first, and got what she wanted, what Liz had always wanted for herself. Later on in life of course. I explained to Michael that if we did it his way, it wouldn’t be over. She’d come for him and she’d get him.

I told him we had to learn her habits, we had to be patient and wait for the right time. Good things come to those who wait, that’s what I told him. He’d looked at me then, and he’d shivered involuntarily. The stonewall cracked for a second and he actually looked scared. Maybe it was because of the look in my eyes as I talked about waiting for the right time to kill her, or maybe it was the tone in my voice. Maybe it was both, all I know is that he shivered and said, “Yeah...ok...whatever.”

Suddenly the door was being opened and Michael stepped in. Shutting it behind him he quickly turned around and nodded in my direction, “Maxwell.”
“Michael.” I nodded back.
“Tess.” He said in a flat tone of voice.
“Michael.” She bitterly spit out, as if she were spitting venom in his direction.
“Kid.” He said with a small smile and a nod.
Nothing. No response. Michael’s smile dropped and looking to me he clapped his hands together and rubbed them, in the way that he always does when he’s ready to get down to business. “All right Maxwell, let’s do this.”

He’d come here expecting to do the dirty work. But his expectations of what was going to take place today were wrong. “Stay with my son while Tess and I go for a little ride.” I was met with a look of pure confusion and turning from it, I looked towards my son.
“Come give your mom a hug kiddo. She and I are going for a drive.” He did as he was told my boy. He sniffled, like he knew what was going to happen. But he was good, like he knew that this was the way that it had to be. And it was. She told him that she loved him and that he was the bravest, best son in the world. He said, “I know mommy. I love you too.”

“Dylan, this is Michael. He’s my very best friend and he’s gonna watch you until I get back ok?” He nodded and sat on the couch. Then as if he’d been sitting on a hot stove he jumped up and ran to his mom, giving her one last hug. He whispered something into her ear and she had to choke back a sob. Later I found out that he’d told her, “It’s ok mommy. I’ll take it like a man.”

And as I was walking out with Tess and the alien device I’d taken from Brody I heard him in soft quiet voice say, as he most likely stood with his hand outstretched in Michael’s direction, “Dylan Alexander Evans.” Smart kid.

Ted Nugent was blaring through my speakers as we drove.

Here I come again now baby
Like a dog in heat
Tell it’s me by the clamor now baby
I like to tear up the streets

It was pretty silent. Aside from the music.

Now I’ve been smoking for so long
You know I’m here to stay
Got you in a stranglehold baby
You best get out of the way

She cried.

Road I cruise is a bitch now baby
You know you can’t do me ‘round
If your house gets in my way baby
You know I’ll burn it down

She stopped crying long enough to look at me and ask me, “What are you gonna do with me Max?”

You remember the night that you left me
You put me in my place
Got you in a stranglehold now baby
Gonna crush your face

I looked sideways at her but said nothing.

Sometimes you wanna get higher
Sometimes you gotta start low
Some people think they gonna die someday
I got news you never got to go

And then we were there, parked on the side of some road and walking into a cornfield. Alien device in one hand, Tess’ arm in the other I lead us out into the middle of the cornfield where I was sure that we wouldn’t be seen, or heard. I put down the device and kept walking, taking Tess with me. I stopped just a couple of feet from where I knew the force field it was projecting ended.

Standing infront of her I squared my shoulders, spread my legs just enough to make me look huge and dominating and crossed my arms over my chest.
“On your knees.” I commanded. She looked at me then through her tears, horrified. I could see her imagining all the sick, dirty, horrible things I would do to her in this field. She cried then, harder than before. Looking down at the ground as she slowly got to her knees. “Max, please don’t do this...think of your son.”

The fact that she would bring up the main reason I was doing this set me off into a blind rage. In one swift, smooth movement I had her pinned to the ground on her back, me on top of her. Face to face, my forearm crushing down on her throat. “I am.”
I stayed like that for a little while, my face contorted in anger hers in pain and desperation as my arm slowly choked the life out of her. Then when I felt she’d had enough and she was on the edge, I let up. “On your knees.” I bit out harshly.

She gasped for air, as she got to her knees. “Why bother Tess? You’re not gonna need it in a second.” I told her as I walked behind her. I could feel it coursing through her, anticipation of what was to come. What the hell was I planning? She didn’t know.

I grabbed the sides of her head, closed my eyes and in one swift movement it was over. I should’ve made it more painful. I should’ve dragged it out. Killed her slowly, like she’d killed me all these years. Like she’d killed Alex all those years ago. But I didn’t. Getting up, I walked over and turned off the device. I walked back over to her limp and lifeless body and using my new power that I developed a while ago, I sifted through her memories. Then I took care of the rest of her. There would be nothing to suggest foul play had happened in this field.

I took her memories because I wanted all the memories of my son that I had to miss because of her. I even took a few of the times that were good when she was with Dylan, so that I could show him if he ever asked what his mom was like. Incase he didn’t remember her. I figured that I’d tell him we’d had an accident while we were driving and she’d died. That there wasn’t anything I could do. Of course I’d know that he would know. But if we didn’t acknowledge it, maybe it’d make everything better.

Waving my hand over the front and side of my truck, I made it look like there had actually been an accident. Then I drove back to her house and picked up Michael and my son. He cried, I got his bag together and we left the house hand in hand. He stopped just outside to stare at it. Knowing that it’d be the last time he’d ever see it. I let him take pictures of his mom, some of his toys, a few pieces of her clothes. Some of her things. Even though she wasn’t the greatest mom, even though she didn’t know how to cook and the only time she lifted a hand was to bring it down on his face or elsewhere on his body, Dylan loved her like a child loves a mother. Unconditionally. “Come on kid. I’ve got someone that I’d really like you to meet when we get to our new home.” I told him, giving his little hand a little squeeze and smiling softly at him. He smiled back, and we went home.

The End

It’s a little weird and kind of creepy...yes I know. But I guess I have a twisted mind.

I'd like to thank Mackie666, rebalcandy, Dreamerella, Crazy4Max, and Spencer Hopeful for giving me such good feedback on the main board.

Title: Dealing with the Demons
Author: Sugarplum17
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the plot and the character Dylan.
Summary: An older Dylan tries to deal with what happened the day his dad came to get him.
Author’s Note: Under advisement from SpencerHopeful, I’m posting this. Thanks Spencer! If you read this and you’re lost, I suggest you go read Stranglehold because this is the sequel. It’s another one parter.

I know what my dad did to my mom all those years ago when I was a little boy. I know what my mom did to him and his friends all those years before I was born. I suppose that in some twisted way she deserved what he gave her, but then you have to stop and think who deserves to die? When I ask myself that question I get confused. Obviously people who do bad things deserve bad things. It’s like that full circle karma thing that Maria and Uncle Kyle are always talking about. But if you kill do you deserve to be killed? I don’t know. I mean, she was my mom. My dad killed her and that makes him a killer. Does he deserve to be killed?

Those are thoughts that I, Dylan Alexander Evans, wrestle with every time I lay my head down on my pillow at night. They send me into a restless sleep, full of dreams of my mother. Sometimes they’re good dreams. Sometimes when I dream of my mom, I dream of the good times she and I shared with each other in our short time together. Sometimes they’re bad dreams. Sometimes I dream of the not so good times that she and I shared in our short time with each other. But more often than not, they’re the really bad kind. Most of the time, they’re the dreams that probably haunt my dad at night. Except the dreams he has are more precise, mine are just morbid guesses.

We don’t talk about what happened the day they went for a ride. He likes to think that if we don’t, it never happened. He likes to live in this fantasy world where he believes they actually did get into an accident and he did nothing wrong. He knows that I know. In all honesty, I knew the very first time that I saw him step out from behind that tree. I don’t know how, but I knew exactly who he was, why he was there and what he was there to do. I use an excuse to make myself feel better. I say to myself when I start to feel guilt, “There was nothing I could do. I was only a little boy. What could I have done?”

They would’ve went at it one way or another, the stronger of the two emerging from the battle victorious. Maybe if I hadn’t given my dad the handcuffs, it would’ve given my mom a fighting chance. But it’s doubtful; my dad had that device. Without it maybe my mom could’ve won, but with it her fate was sealed. Without the device, you’ve got the most powerful alien out of the four. With it, all you’ve got is a tiny woman who can pack a mean punch when she’s hitting a small boy. But put her up against a fully-grown man with bulging muscles and then try asking yourself if she can hold her own against him.

It didn’t take long for us to get home to Roswell. My stuff in the back of his now banged up truck, me in the middle, Michael and my dad taking turns in the driver’s seat. We came straight to my dad’s apartment, saving introductions for another day. There was a room already made up for me. Filled with sports stuff. In the closet there was a present for every holiday that I’d missed. A present for every birthday that he’d missed, even though they were most likely bought on the wrong day. He helped me put my stuff away and then he helped me open the presents.

The next day rolled around and he took me to his parents’ house. He introduced me to the family I never knew I had, but always suspected was out there. Grandma Diane, Grandpa Phil, Aunt Isabel, her husband Kyle and their three year old daughter Lynzie. When Aunt Isabel heard my name, or rather my middle name, she excused herself to go have a good cry to mourn the man that was her first love. Liz was there, my dad’s girlfriend. She was nice and I liked her, but I didn’t want her to try and be my mom. So I was mean to her for a long time. She lived in our apartment too, but decided before we even got back from Michigan that it would be weird for me if she was there. So she moved in with her friend Maria.

Michael and his girlfriend Maria were also at my Grandma’s house. Michael introduced me to her, and I was in love. She was beautiful, she was funny, and she was spunky and cool. She was the only one who looked me in the eyes, besides my dad and my grandparents. I guess it was too hard for the rest of them, to look at my eyes without seeing her. So they just didn’t do it. They would stare at my forehead when they talked to me, or maybe watch my mouth or nose but never the eyes. She was the only one who didn’t treat me like I was a piece of delicate porcelain that could break at any minute. Everyone was so tentative around me, so careful of what they said and did. But not her.

Three years after I got there, when she and Michael announced to everyone that they were getting married I’d cried infront of everyone and then I ran away. Not very far, just down three blocks to the park. She’d found me there, sitting under a tree crying my eyes out. I told her, even though I was only 9 that I was in love with her. She’d been speechless for a while, watching me as I cried. Then she’d told me that if I was older and she’d met me before she met Michael maybe things would be different. She said that she loved me, but not in the same way that she loved Michael. I was a great person, a beautiful person she said. She’d said she hoped that if she had a son, that he’d be just like me because I was the coolest kid in Roswell.
Despite my age, I knew a rejection when I heard one and Maria Deluca was definitely rejecting me. I was mad at her for two months and I didn’t go to her wedding. I hated Michael with a passion. But I still had a huge crush on her. It lasted until I was 15 when I realized that she was way too old for me, way too in love with Michael and way too pregnant with his second child.

I didn’t have any other friends besides Maria until I was 13. Lynzie was 10 and getting into sports. So we started spending a lot of time together, playing basketball in her driveway as her dad watched us from the side, coaching us. Sometimes there would be games going on down at the park. Kids from town just hanging out, playing basketball, baseball, football, and soccer. Whatever sport happened to be going on that day. So we’d go down there and play with the other kids. This one kid in particular gave Lynzie a really hard time about her wanting to play football with the rest of the guys, because she was a girl. She beat the crap out of him and he went home crying to his mother. I was so proud of her, for standing up for herself and definitely for holding her own against a boy who was 15 and twice her size, without using any powers. She definitely impressed the other boys, and she never had a problem with getting into a game she wanted to get into after that. That night when I was having dinner at Lynzie’s house, I told everyone at the table about it like I was bragging. Lynzie looked embarrassed when her mom looked horrified and her dad patted her on the back and said, “That’s my girl!”

The nightmares started to happen around then and I never told anyone. Lynzie could tell that there was something wrong with me, but she never pressed it because I always said it was nothing, that I just didn’t get enough sleep the night before. That day she beat up that older boy at the park, she got a lot of admirers. Yeah, a lot of the male population of Roswell was now scared of her, but one boy named Tucker fell for her. He followed us around like he was her puppy dog. When he wasn’t pining over my cousin, he was a pretty cool guy. So he became my best friend too.

If my mom had been alive, she never would’ve allowed it my friendship with Tucker. She would rather have killed him, than let me be friends with him. But then again if my mom were alive, I wouldn’t be in Roswell. I wouldn’t be with my dad, I wouldn’t have ever met Maria, and I wouldn’t have ever met Lynzie. So I guess it’s another reason to be thankful. It sounds harsh, I know. What can I say? On one hand I’m living this semi-normal life, with moderate happiness here in Roswell with my dad. On the other, I was living this sheltered life, where I wasn’t allowed to play with other kids and I was yelled at and hit almost every day. Was it for the best that my dad came to get me? Definitely. Was the way he did it the only way? Hate to say it, but yeah it was. She would’ve never let me go. Was the only way the right way? I’m not sure. It’s back to that whole ‘If you kill do you deserve to be killed’ argument.

Most of the people that knew my mom would call her evil. So if you ask yourself the ‘If you kill...’ question maybe you need to factor that into the equation. If you’re evil and you kill, do you deserve to be killed? A lot of people, infact everyone who’s ever met my dad would say that he’s a really great guy, a really great person. So if you’re a great person and you kill, do you deserve to be killed? It’s really confusing. Maybe not for most, but for me it is. She was my mom; he’s my dad. How can I ask myself these questions about my parents? Why do I feel the need to rationalize my dad’s actions? Why do I feel the need to know if my mom deserved what she got? Why do I feel the need to know if my dad deserves something he’s given? Why do I have bad dreams almost every night about my mom and how she died? Is it because I know the truth? If I’d grown up believing that my mom got into a car accident instead of knowing what really caused her death, would I still have these dreams?

I’ve never been afraid of very much but lately, I’m afraid. I’m afraid for myself and of myself. They both had it in them to kill. Do I? If I get so angry at someone, like my dad was at my mom, could I kill them? Will I kill them? If I need my way so badly and nothing I do seems to work, will I be so manipulative? Could I? If I need my way so badly that I kill someone who was supposedly close to me, could I go on as if I didn’t care? Would I care? Did she? Did my dad enjoy it? Will I?

We don’t talk about that day much, my dad and I. But sooner or later we’re going to. I have too many questions that need answered. I need these dreams to stop. I need to know her last words, the way her face looked, if she was scared or if she was brave. I need to know if she saw it coming or if it blind-sided her. I need to know how it happened and where it happened. Is that morbid and weird? Maybe. But I need to know. I need to deal with my demons before I snap. Before I find out if I’m really capable of doing what they did. Following in their footsteps is not something I want to do. I don’t want to be a killer. I don’t want to kill. These are the demons that I, Dylan Alexander Evans, wrestle with every single day.