#gonna leave this 4400 word ficlet here.......

[nighttimepixels]

_(┐「ε:)_♡

Well, if you insist... It’s time to learn more about Dusk... and about her sister, Dawn.

Below a cut, because it sure did get long~

===

2 months later... and they still hadn’t found Dusk’s sister.

Your leg was healed by now, to your and the other's relief. There's not even a scar, to your pleasant surprise; between Blade's magic cooking and Twist's healing and care, not to mention the rest of the girl's insistence in their own ways of ensuring you take it easy, you've been very thoroughly nursed back to health.

Dusk, on the other hand... was a work in progress. She couldn’t move well thanks to her lost lower left leg, and Crimson, Cinnamon, and Alpha were still working on prototype prosthetics that could interface with her magic.

You spent the better half of your first week in healing at her side; at first, you could barely get away from her, if you were honest. It wasn’t until between yourself and an exasperated Crimson, you managed to communicate your genuine need to go to the bathroom - and Dusk, larger than even Blade though not quite as tall as Twist, couldn’t make it there in her condition... not that you would have wanted her to. You were embarrassed enough as it was, once she reluctantly let you go, her eyelight shrunk to the size of a dime in her massive sockets, when Crimson had to carry you there with your leg not ready to have weight on it.

After taking care of that, you ended up lingering and taking a bath, Crimson running it for you, lightening your heavy spirits and guilt for needing so much help by flirting and cracking her usual jokes. She left you a little reluctantly herself, warning you she’d bust the door down if she heard you struggling too much without calling for help. With the promise of a fresh change of clothes coming from the main house, you relaxed into the bubbles and soothing magical solution poured in, made by Twist herself.

... That is, until you heard a massive thump a few minutes later as you nearly nodded off in the massive bathtub, shaking the very floorboards. It was followed by a sound you could only liken to an anchor dragging along the ground, punctuated by several thumps.

The front door of the huge cottage thudded open then, followed by muffled swearing in Spanish, a grunted sound- you tried to sit up, splashing and letting out a grunt and then a squeak as you slipped, your propped up leg splashing into the hot water and causing you to swear as a stab of pain lit up your nerves.

“-dammit, stone for skull, she’s fine- i’ll check, just-”

By the time you were pulling your head back from the wave of pain and mild nausea, the door splintered and crashed inwards.

You yelped, jumping again and earning yourself another bolt of pain. Thankfully the enormous tub - hand built for both Blade and Twist’s size - had you up to your shoulders in water, especially as you curled in on yourself, your hands submerged over your injured leg-

-but your gaze locked onto Dusk, who was propped up on one elbow, her other hand splayed on the ground, no attention paid to the thick splinters beneath her massive hand. She was staring at you, singular eyelight a pinprick, vibrating, flashing around-

Crawling, because she had lost half her leg.

“ay coño-”

Crimson was right behind her, hand caught up in the patched up, fur-lined jacket Dusk wore, as if she’d been stuck between trying to help her up and also drag her back.

Magic was spreading across her cheekbones as she glanced up to you, frozen in shock. She glanced away again, grimacing.

“disculpa- ah, shit, i just stepped out for a sec t’ call Scar, she musta heard somethin’- c’mon Dusk, y’can’t just-”

Crimson attempted to scoop under Dusk’s raised arm, to pull her up or loop it over her shoulders to get her to her feet, you weren’t sure. But Dusk wasn’t moving. Rather, after a moment, she growled, before slipping into some roughly spoken words in her language you still didn’t understand - like listening to an old-timey radio, if that radio was in another country known for some sort of romance language.

Not once did her eyelight leave you.

Crimson’s face shifted, looking frustrated but...

You weren’t sure.

Her hand remained on Dusk’s arm, but she tried, haltingly, to say something in the same language- before huffing, grumbling as she looked away, a shadow passing over her face.

Her words were almost too soft for your human ears to catch, but...

“... i know, but people here don’t understand that kinda... protection.”

You swore you could feel your soul tighten in your chest.

“She...” you began, before having to swallow around the lump in your throat. Your face felt hot, and you glanced down at the water, tenderly adjusting your leg. “Um. If... if she needs to, she can stay. Just uh. Don’t... look, so intently?” You huffed an embarrassed sound, ducking lower, “I-I dunno, um, her back to the tub, maybe. You can... stay, like that, too, if it... helps, Crim...”

In the end, you had two red-eyed skeleton woman with their backs propped to the sculpted tub. Your face was nearly as red as Crimson’s, but she was playing it off well, at least, joking and telling you some stories about her countless hijinks. You were grateful for the mercy in her choice there - even as Dusk, not blushing in the slightest, sat sentinel near the head of the top where you sat. Just a little tense, as if she didn’t like not seeing you... but she eased whenever you responded.

It was the start of a trend.

Halfway through the week, while Dusk seemed reluctantly willing to let you go take care of normal human body things, if it lasted much longer than that she wouldn’t sit still. Several of your skeletal friends were less than pleased about this. Scarlet seemed ready to fight, but Crimson managed to talk her down, apparently. Amber seemed particularly concerned, but hid it pretty well, with a joking boop of your nose in reassurance that they’re all just a little wary of the unknown but things would calm down as she hung out with you nearly the entire second day. Pepper and Cinnamon seemed to strongly dislike the entire situation, but there was also a strange... and deep level of understanding there that wasn’t said but you could feel - propped as you were, facing your friends and housemates, with Dusk like an enormous shadow of a throne behind you, her femurs on either side of you. It was the only position where she seemed she’d feel willing to not be actively holding you.

Blade didn’t leave on her usual haunts of the forest nearly as much as she usually did.

Crimson was the only one who could really communicate with Dusk, though it seemed Dusk caught on to most of the conversation around her as the days passed, more and more - the glimmer of understanding clearer in her one remaining eyelight. Speaking English seemed to be another matter, but it was reassuring to at least be able to know she mostly understood you - even as you struggled to try to understand her.

The others were less happy when at one week you were cleared by Twist to be able to sleep in your own bed back in the main house - and you slowly, hesitantly asked and offered to continue staying in the cottage... where Dusk was staying for now, too.

In the end, you won out; the others, at the least, couldn’t argue that when Dusk caught onto the full context, she was not going to let you out of her sight easily, and your room was the smallest in the house - not that it wasn’t still huge by your standards - she simply wouldn’t be able to easily fit... or keep out of your privacy, as the other girls put it. So with the understanding that they’d be looping in to the cottage constantly, they acquiesced to your decision and just asked you let them know if anything changed or you needed something.

And so, another week passed.

You’d gotten to the point that Dusk would nod or shake her head to some of your questions - basic likes and dislikes, and so on, mostly. Yes or no questions could only go so far - and as Crimson admitted, she was a damn private person... not unlike herself and Blade, well, put together.

Still, it was a form of conversation, and you felt your heart skipping whenever there was a flicker of enjoyment, or pleasant surprise in her eyelight. Something you cooked for breakfast, a cup of strong coffee, the texture of a soft blanket, the sound of the ocean when you showed her nature videos, the sight of the clear sunny sky when with Twist’s help you got her outside, even more so the sight of the stars...

Before you knew it, two whole months had passed. You were getting close to moving back to your room, but Blade and Twist, despite their new roommate, seemed to actually resist your offers and worry about doing so and giving them more of their space back, Dusk’s own seemingly trauma-linked dislike of distance from you aside; you’d spent more time with them because of this, and they were very much so pleased with that side of things in their own way. And you’d effectively cemented yourself as determined to nurse and look after Dusk while her prosthetic was finished up, as the other girls were still busy and trying to handle the whole machine being turned on against the agreement thing, which was another story entirely.

And it felt like your heart would break when, for the first time, two months after she’d appeared, you finally caught her dozing off when you were still awake...

Only for her to wake up mere minutes later, her briefly lax, shadowed face suddenly tensing with what you could only describe as overwhelming fear.

She didn’t scream, she hardly moved - like she’d trained to hide any expression of weakness - but her sockets snapped open, singular eyelight missing, and the pillow beneath one hand nearly shredding under her grip.

You’d been in a comfortable palette bed next to the pillow and blanket pit in the living area she’d passed out in - close enough to relax her constant tension, but not quite touching, something that seemed to relieve the girls when the setup had been established. But when you saw her tense you’d risen a little, propping yourself up on your elbow, bandaged leg no longer jolting with pain when you moved -

And when she’d woken up in a way that would have been screaming in anyone else, you’d sat up, hands lifted towards her.

You murmured her name, touch slowly lowering to her arm. Her jacket had been washed just the once since coming here, a few days ago - the first time she apparently trusted the intentions of Sapphire and Vellum as they attempted for the umpteenth time to gently convince her to let them at least wash her things. It was softer now for it, the obvious hand-stitched nature of it more apparent for the removed grit and mud and stars knew what else. Her pants were... you didn’t know a word for it, actually, besides vaguely harem-style, only... not sheer. They had a dropped crotch, effectively, roomy but soft and warm, and came to a fur-lined cuff below the knee... well, on the one leg, anyways. The other was tied off below her femur, now.

Her head turned towards you, both too-quick and too-slow. Her sockets remained empty, though you murmured her name again.

She was a still as stone itself. Not even her ribcage moved.

... Slowly, so slowly, you shifted forward. It was clear that she was watching you, even with her single eyelight missing. Gently your touch moved to her hand... and slipped into her grasp, managing to coax her to loosen its death grip on the pillow.

It was almost comical, the size difference. Your hand wasn’t even the size of her palm.

Still, the intention was clear, and you gripped her hand as best you could, a sad smile on your face.

You knew night terrors. And you knew at least a little about the night terrors your other skeleton friends had.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “It’s okay. You’re here. I’m here. It’s safe, here. You’re safe.”

Her phalanges twitched around yours.

... And slowly, slowly, she looked away, up to the ceiling- and her hand closed around yours.

Time ticked by, like that.

You only moved to shift a little closer, your legs curling up on your little palette, her nest’s pillows spilling and leveling against it. Your other hand rested over hers, slowly stroking it.

And finally, for the first time since that first day...

“... n.ot... me.”

You blinked, staring up at her. She wasn’t looking at you still. Her fingers twitched a little around yours, gentle, and you realized - she was attempting, hesitantly, precisely what you were doing. To... stroke your hand back.

It was suddenly very hard to swallow.

She was quiet for several minutes. You had so many guesses- one, above all, the very question that had her completely stonewalling, whether from you or the others, even Crimson, since she got here.

At last, her head rolled a little, back to you. Her eyelight was back, now, small and faint, but there. You had the distinct impression that she was searching for something in your face.

Finally... she sighed, and slowly, almost painfully, rolled, propping herself up on one elbow, but not letting go of your hand. With her other, she made two gestures-

She pointed at herself, and then with a flat palm, pressed down on the air, just a little.

Smaller me-

“Crimson?” you murmured, surprised. Dusk had never... asked for her, before, but - she hadn’t avoided her, either. Admittedly, she seemed the most willing to talk to her, even if only in small amounts.

Dusk nodded.

----

Crimson had answered her phone on the second ring, sleep husking her voice, but more sharp and alert than you’d expected.

She was there in less than sixty seconds after you made your tentative request and explained what little you could. As usual, she was wearing just a pair of boxers - these ones a galaxy print - and she had a black band hoodie dragged on over it, a last second addition, you had no doubt.

Her hand came down on your shoulder, searching your face as you looked up at her, thanking her for coming so fast. With a shrug, she then smiled, looking tired but curiously focused. Her hand lifted and ruffled your hair, and despite your half-hearted protest and quiet laugh, she just chuckled.

“anytime, cielita. so... what’s up, Dusk?”

Crimson unceremoniously fell onto the nest of pillows as she addressed her, kicking up a leg over her knee and curiously searching the face of your motley crew’s latest addition. Dusk seemed to do the same.

Her hand still held yours. Crimson had obviously noted that, but to your surprise... didn’t say anything.

Dusk began speaking.

Your eyes widened. She’d never spoken this much before; part of you wondered if she could, if maybe her nigh-feral fangs and sharp teeth caused her too much pain to do so... but if it did, she didn’t show it. You couldn’t understand a word, but it wasn’t long before you were watching her expressions more than anything... and, when she inhaled sharply not thirty seconds in, Crimson’s face.

You... you didn’t like what you saw.

But Dusk wasn’t giving her time to translate- not yet, and it seemed like she needed to get this out, whatever this was.

For nearly five minutes, she spoke.

If you weren’t certain that whatever was being said was dark and dangerous and quite probably heart-breaking, you would have likened it to some kind of exercise in listening to the most pleasant cadence of language and inflection. You didn’t know what made her voice sound like a rich old radio’s quality, but you’d become accustomed to it, and enjoyed it as much as you could around your frustration at being unable to properly understand her...

It nearly jolted you when she suddenly ceased speaking.

Your head turned to Crimson. Her eyelights were gone, and despite the fact that she’d largely held the same seemingly laid-back posture the whole time... her hands were balled into fists. Slowly, she sat up, her feet dragging in the pillows.

“Crim..?” you gently pressed. You felt anxious, desperate to be let in, but you didn’t want to be demanding when-

“it’s... joder, i can’t...” Crimson shook her head, her sockets clenching shut as she slowly rested her elbows on her knees. “that’s...”

She took a breath. Above you, you could tell Dusk was looking down once more, but you weren’t sure you had the courage to glance up and see who she was looking at... or how.

“... she’d already explained a bit about her world,” Crimson managed, gaze still down, gazing into some dark middle distance. “like i’d explained to you all... all i could really get was that her world had a famine thanks t’the kid abandonin’ them ‘n killin’ queenie, but it was more vicious ‘n deadly than B ‘n Twist went through - more like me ‘n Scar’s...”

She took a slow breath, and finally, finally looked up with a heavy exhale.

It had been a long time since you’d seen her with that kind of weight and darkness to her expression, and it chilled you.

“... ‘pparently... rather than their Dyne simply goin’ mad with sorrow ‘n power ‘n rage, he... ended up tryin’ to absorb the souls.”

You inhaled sharply. You’d heard, eventually, from Blade and Twist what they’d gone through. But... “But, wouldn’t taking a soul, I mean- it’s not good, but one of them leaving, he could get more and come back to break everyone free, right-?”

Crimson grimaced, and shook her head, her eyelights dimming.

“that’s the kicker. it... wasn’t one. he... he tried to absorb ‘em all. ‘n... they had five at that point.”

You couldn’t help but gasp, and your hand tightened in Dusk’s.

... after a beat, she squeezed yours back.

“they’d lost ‘em all, but i guess Dusk ‘n her sis had been kinda doin’ some treason ‘n squirrelled away new ones after Dyne lost it and murdered the next human, destroyed ‘em to the point of their soul bein’ shattered ‘n lost. they weren’t gonna let it happen again... everyone was starvin’, too, so-” she glanced away. You understood - not unlike Blade and Twist, they had to do what they had to do. You simply nodded, and Crimson continued, “Dyne figured it out, though. ‘course the bastard did. snitch or spy, dunno, but he kept tryin’ t’find the proof, th’ souls, and...”

“He finally did...”

Crimson nodded, and now, her eyelights were burning brighter, angry.

“fucker raided the place, what shambles were left of the royal guard now his, and clingin’ to the power ‘n his bullshit promises of revenge and the surface bein’ their’s - but... but Dusk’s sis was there... preppin’ the fifth soul. Dusk was out distributin’ the, uh, food, and...”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t notice the single eyelight, transfixed on your every minute reaction.

Crimson dragged a clawed hand down her face.

“i didn’t understand all of it, ancient’s a tricky magical language ‘n i’m so damn rusty, but... they fought. everyone else was dead by the time Dusk got there, no longer able to teleport, already had her head injury from their last clash with Dyne... and Dyne had gotten hold of three of the souls. he’d fuckin’... he was some horrifyin’ thing. no longer a monster, no longer him - fuckin’ forty or fifty feet tall, and-” Crimson gestured, something unfamiliar but you understood the horror and disgust and wrongness of whatever it was conveying. “-Dusk’s sis had the last two souls, and- shit, that thing saw Dusk and before she could do a damn fuckin’ thing... her sis was reactin’. Dusk woulda been dust with a single swipe, but... her sister...”

You didn’t know when your hand had clapped over your mouth, agape - but the prick of heat in your eyes was undeniable.

“She... she absorbed the souls-?”

Without thinking, you looked up at Dusk.

She was staring down at you, cracked, battered face unreadable.

“... yeah. next thing Dusk knew, her sister was screamin’, writhin’- and the moment after, she was knocked on her back by something huge before Dyne could get to her - clean out the cave, into the forest.”

Your gaze was locked on Dusk’s, and you felt the wetness finally hit your cheeks.

“she came to and Dyne was no where to be seen, but half the forest was overgrown ‘n mowed down. ambient magic was overflowin’ in ways she’d never known, clearly affectin’ the environment. and over her was somethin’... someone 20, 30 feet tall.”

“Your sister,” you whispered, eyes stinging, your view of her face blurring a little. Your voice was almost too tight.

Dusk, ever so slightly, inclined her head.

“... she wasn’t... her. not exactly. not anymore. but for some reason she hadn’t completely de-stabilized either - she didn’t say much about that, but...” Crimson made a sound like a growl in her throat, and you heard the quiet sound of her phalanges sliding together and tightening. “for years now, guess her sister’s... been some sort of... sentinel, in the snowdin caverns. she can’t talk, doesn’t seem as... there. like she’s got just the one mission... and she does. Dyne’s still out there, i guess - completely mad, somethin’ that ain’t quite sentient, more beast than monster or... amalgamate. fucked up the rest of the underground, sent everyone scramblin’. guess they both put off insane levels of ambient magic, and the whole underground’s different for it, monsters more feral ‘n magical, ‘n the surroundings too. there’re two factions now, those that worship Dyne as some sorta god now that’ll deliver them from the underground if they can just sacrifice a few more souls to him. the others rallied in snowdin, dusk got ‘em to the ruins, only place that’s close t’safe. she’s hunted, and she hunts... ‘n tracks her sister, i guess. makin’ sure none of the huge number of fanatics bands t’gether enough to take down her sis, who is the only one who can fend off Dyne when crawls outta whatever hellhole he’s been digging lately. guess she was in the middle was disarmin’ one of the traps the fanatics laid out for her sis when she got dragged here, but uh, yeah, that went about as well as it obviously did.”

You were crying.

There was no hiding it. Your heart, your soul hurt, and you didn’t even know what to say.

No wonder she almost never slept. No wonder she didn’t want you out of her sight. Was she inclined to protect any human, if only to keep them out of her Dyne’s hands? Or had she been about to kill you at that first glance, pain-ridden mind only registering there was a human in the forest with her, a human that could be used to make Dyne more powerful, and wanting to extinguish that chance?

Had... she given up on ever seeing the sky...? With her people so altered, with some horrifying haunting threat and faux-god threatening their lives...

You were moving forward suddenly, hand leaving hers only to wrap your arms around as much of her as you could. She jolted, slightly - but you didn’t pause, didn’t pull back, your face burying into her chest and your hands balling into her jacket.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage for a moment, your voice choked. You squeezed tighter, a tiny sound breaking free of your throat as you fought the tears. “Dusk, I’m- I’m so sorry, oh my god, I d-don’t... I can’t even i-imagine-”

You only felt a fresh wave of tears when, so, so slowly... her arms shifted, and folded around you.

She held you, squeezing, eventually, but carefully, and you held her back. You didn’t see Crimson set a hand on her elbow, looking away, out the window, silent, her other hand clenched in a fist.

You didn’t know what lead Dusk to want to reveal this now. You didn’t know what exactly her night terror had been about - countless things in that tale were enough for a lifetime. It glossed entirely over so many things you could only hazard a terrible guess were equally horrifying and soul-breaking.

So, you simply hugged her, form shaking lightly, and she hugged you back.

...

Eventually, you pulled back, wiping at your face and apologizing, but she simply shook her head, and didn’t entirely let you go. You ended up sandwiched between Dusk and Crimson, a few final questions answered in that language you didn’t understand, but was apparently referred to as simply ‘Ancient’.

It turns out, the reason Dusk had seemed so unsurprised when your friends explained that usually both siblings were transported, yet they couldn’t find her sister, was because after the gist of the mechanics were explained to her she figured her sister’s soul was... too warped to register, or perhaps too powerful to be dragged against her will out of the timeline.

There wasn’t much you could say to that.

However, quietly, you asked Dusk if... even if her sister wasn’t here, if she wanted to give her a nickname too, to make things... easier?

You weren’t sure if that was the right word, but she, surprisingly, agreed.

Dawn, it was decided.

And, in one of the last phrases she offered that night before going quiet once more, she explained in Ancient to Crimson, while looking down at you and making a gesture, hands folded and fisted, then splaying outwards...

“... her sister’s magic’s overpowered now t’keep her together, threaded through her joints, glowing red visibly at all times, and filling cracks and scars in her bones, and spilling out of her eyesockets. the forest’s overgrown and taller now so even at full height she’s not usually visible... but when she’s near, it’s... it’s like dawn’s risin’, peerin’ through the mist ‘n snow ‘n trees.”

Even Crimson had to take a moment after that, her voice failing her.

Together, the three of you watched through the broad living room windows as the wee hours of the night gave way to the wee hours of the morning, and the morning sun began to paint the horizon in warm, brilliant colors.

[angsty-nerd]

Fictober #15

Oyyy! I wasn’t sure I’d finish today! They just kept talking and wouldn’t stop! If you’d asked me a few hours ago, I was seriously considering looking to see if I could double up with tomorrow’s prompt and do 2 in 1. But somehow I managed to finish. My longest one yet..don’t think I can even call this a ficlet. At 4400 words, it’s a fic, right?

Anyway....

#15. “What are you talking about?”

Roswell, NM fanfic

Sort of Miluca, but not really all that romantic or anything... and then Maria & Liz friendship too.

Under the cut because long.

“No, Michael! You can’t just waltz in here at closing time, grab a drink, and expect that we’re going to...no." Maria shoved him as he leaned in to try to kiss her.  "No more. I'm not touching you again until you agree to talk to me.”

"What's there to talk about?" Michael sighed.

"You, first off.  You're a mess." Maria stood and watched him take another swig from the bottle of whiskey with her hands on her hips, before she reached across the bar and tugged it away from him.  "Something's wrong, Michael. I can tell. You were finally getting your shit together, and now? It's back to sloppy nights and drunken brawls. You can't honestly pretend like nothing is going on with you."

"Once a shitshow, always a shitshow, DeLuca."

"You know I don't believe that anymore, right?" He didn't respond. Maria sighed and continued. "And we still haven't talked about you and Alex, and that bothers me. A lot. He's my best friend and I need to know if I'm getting myself in the middle of something I don't belong in here."

"Well, maybe you should ask Alex then."

"Alex isn't the one who keeps kissing me." Maria shot back. "And if you’re kissing me while you've got some unresolved feelings for Alex, then you've got some serious explaining to do, Guerin."

"I keep telling you it's over."

"And somehow that just doesn't seem to be the whole story."

Maria waited to give him a chance to talk, but he stayed silent.  He wasn't leaving at least, but he wasn't talking yet. She sighed, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey that she set aside, pouring him a drink and then taking her own share straight from the bottle. A sip of courage before she brought up the hardest question of all.

"And then I want to know about your hand."  Her eyes fell to where it lay on the bar, wrapped in a bandana.  "You're hiding it now, but I saw it that night." Slowly, gently she reached across the bar to it. She expected him to pull away, but for some reason he didn't. "I know it's healed, Michael."  She pulled the bandana off of his hand, revealing his perfect, flawless, uninjured hand. "You're gonna have to tell me sometime how it’s possible that the permanent marks of a decade old injury were miraculously healed."

Michael knocked back the whiskey.  Then, with a heavy sigh he met her eyes.  Maria almost gasped out loud at the amount of pain that was suddenly exuding from his gaze.  "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Maria shook her head sadly. "No. Not if you want to maintain any kind of relationship with me." She gave him a little smirk to lighten the moment. "Or my bar. So unless you want to start drinking at Saturn's Rings with the tourists, you'd better start talking!"

Michael stood, turned his back, and walked a few steps away from the bar. For a moment Maria thought that he was going to walk out the door. But then he stopped and dragged a frustrated hand through his hair, before turning back to her.

"You know, I like that you don't know anything about this stuff? It simplifies things.  I like just being able to be a normal guy with you. You're the only person left in my life who sees me that way.  I don't wanna lose that." She stayed silent, arms crossed, waiting for him to start. His shoulders slumped as he finally gave in.  "But I'm gonna lose that no matter what."

Maria nodded.  She as certain that their relationship would change from this moment forward. Either Michael was going to be honest with her and they could move forward, or he could walk out of the bar and end it for good.

He took a deep breath, and then started talking. "I was in the 1947 UFO crash.  I don't remember it or anything. I was just a kid. But after the crash someone hid us in these stasis pods in an old turquoise mine. 50 years later, in 1997, we woke up and emerged from the pods, and were found wandering naked in the desert. We looked like normal human kids, so no one ever suspected that we're really aliens."

As Michael spoke, Maria felt pain and anger boiling up inside of her. It was one thing to not want to tell her the truth, but to use this? To use the same story, the same elements, as whatever was wrong with her mother?  Tears stung her eyes as she interrupted him, trying to stop the lies flowing from him.

"That's not funny, Guerin." She whispered harshly. "If you're going to lie to me you may as well walk out of here and end this right now.  You don't need to break me first."

"I'm not lying," he replied gently. "I'm an alien."

"Yeah? And let me guess, Will Smith is the one who found you wandering in the desert and picked up an alien kid on his way to saving the human race?"

"What are you talking about? Will Smith? It was a trucker that found us."

“My mom likes to make up stories about the alien invasion too, but at least she can blame it on mental illness. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Michael suddenly hurried back to the bar to her, his eyes wild with fear and concern. “Listen to me, Maria.  I am telling you the truth. We’re aliens. Me, Isobel, and Max.” His voice wavered a bit on Max’s name, but he pushed on. “I can prove it to you. We have powers...we can do things that no human could possibly do.  Max’s power is healing. That’s what happened to my hand. He wasn’t himself...he wouldn’t have done it normally, but he was on this crazy power trip and he healed my hand—” Maria cut him off with a firm wave of her hand.

“Stop. Max? Max Evans.” She stated, disbelieving. “An alien.  He’s sleeping with Liz!”

“You’ve slept with me,” Michael pointed out.  He sighed heavily, sitting back down on his barstool. “Anyway, Max wasn’t himself, like I said.  He was doing stupid things, like healing my hand...and other stuff. Anyway, now he’s not sleeping with anyone, Maria, because he’s dead.”

“What?” Maria gasped. “Michael—” This time he was the one who cut her off.

“Can we not? I don’t want to talk about Max right now.  I can’t…” he swallowed, and Maria could see his eyes shining with unshed tears.  “I could really use another drink right about now.” Maria turned to get their bottle, but before she could, Michael shouted, “WAIT!”

She turned and looked back to him.  “I promised you proof,” he reminded her.  And then he held up his hand, narrowed his eyes...and Maria waited for something to happen.

“What the hell?” Michael grumbled, blaring down at his hand like it had betrayed him.  He closed his eyes, shook his head and shoulders out, and then returned to the same position, hand out and eyes narrow.  Again, there was nothing. This time he stared at his hand in horror and then looked up at Maria, worries. She raised an eyebrow at him.  “My powers aren’t working.”

"Or maybe you're an actual crazy person?"

"I'm not. I swear to you, DeLuca.  I'm telling the truth. If you don't believe me, talk to Liz. Or Alex."

"They both know about this?"

"Actually, go see Liz, Maria. Seriously. She could probably use a friend right now. She's going through a lot."

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

Maria slept fitfully that night.  She couldn't stop thinking about Michael's crazy talk...or whatever it was.  The words sounded insane, but the look in his eyes was so serious. It was like he was pleading with her to believe him.  It was that look that drove her to go to the Crashdown for breakfast the next morning.

Liz was working the morning rush, and paused at Maria's table to give her a brief hug hello and pour her a cup of coffee. "I've gotta keep on top of the masses," she quickly told Maria, "but it should slow down in an hour or so and then we can talk."

Maria didn't mind waiting.  It gave her a chance to observe her friend for a little while.  Liz didn't appear to be in a bad place on the surface. She kept a smile on her face when she spoke to the customers, moved quickly through the motions of waitressing. She looked completely on point.

At least, she did at first, on the surface.  The more Maria watched, the more she began to notice cracks in Liz's facade.  The smile on her face was a little too wide, like she was trying a little too hard to look like everything was good. But anyone who knew her could see that it didn't really reach her eyes, which looked tired, weary.  They were a little red around the edges too.  

Once she saw her friend pause at the jukebox. All of a sudden her shoulders slumped and she looked exhausted, leaning on it like she needed it to hold her up. And for just a split second Liz's face crumpled. Maria almost jumped to her feet to come to her friend's aid, but as quickly as she saw Liz fall apart, she suddenly put herself back together, hit some numbers on the jukebox, and went back to work, Counting Crows blasting from the speakers.

Finally, the tables began to empty and Liz's speed began to slow.  She finally turned towards the kitchen to shout, "I'm taking off. You guys got this?" Once she heard confirmation, Lis turned her attention to Maria. "Okay, I'm all yours."

Maria pointed upwards. Liz nodded in agreement and led them up to the Crashdown's roof.

“So what’s going on?” Liz asked.

“Guerin showed up at the Wild Pony last night.  He said a bunch of stuff to me…and it all sounded crazy.  Frankly, it was a little scary. He sounded like my mom. I told him I didn’t believe him, and then he tried to prove it and couldn’t.  But he swore it was all true and told me that you would confirm it.”

“Maria, What did he tell you?” Liz pressed her carefully. “Specifically.”

“He...he said that he and Max and Isobel are aliens from the 1947 crash.  He said that they were, like, asleep in stasis for 50 years and then, like reborn as kids in 1997.  He said that Max can heal, and fixed his broken hand. And he said that Max is dead, but that’s crazy, right?  Well, all of it’s crazy, but if Max was dead we’d all know about it, right?”

Liz was quiet for a long moment.  It looked like she was glaring at her hands, but she kept her eyes down for a long time, while Maria waited. When Liz finally turned to her, Maria realized that her friend was fighting tears.

“Max is dead, and no one really knows.  I’ve been covering it up.” Liz confessed.  “I put him back into stasis to preserve his body while I try to figure out how to bring him back.”

“How to bring him back?” Maria gaped. “Liz, if he’s dead, he can’t come back. You should understand that better than almost anybody.  Are you okay?”

“I know I sound crazy,” Liz insisted. “But I swear I’m not. I just...it was so much easier for Max.  His hands could work miracles. I’m only human. I’m exhausted and I’m nowhere near figuring this thing out yet.  But I do believe that it’s possible. It has to be possible.”

“What makes you so sure?” Maria asked.

“Michael didn’t tell you how Max died, did he?” Maria ran back through the conversation with Michael in her head, trying to remember. “No… he said that Max wasn’t himself...that he was on a power trip and making dumb choices.  It didn’t sound like Max to me though.”

Liz nodded. “It’s probably a fair statement though.  He did do something incredibly stupid. He decided to try to heal a dead person and bring them back to life. And it worked, but it killed him. That’s why I’m sure it’s possible, Maria.  Because Max did it. So it has to be possible to bring him back too.”

Maria shook her head. “Liz, this all seems so crazy.”

“I know.” Liz agreed. “But it’s true. And I can prove it to you.” Liz’s eyes dropped to Maria’s necklace, and she stared at it thoughtfully.  “Maria, were you wearing your necklace last night?”

Maria reached up and felt the familiar glass of her mother’s pendant. “Yeah, of course.”

“Michael tried to prove it to you by using his powers, didn’t he? And it didn’t work?”

“That’s what he said,” Maria confirmed.

“The flower in your necklace...its pollen has protective properties.  Among them, it blocks alien abilities. That’s why Michael couldn’t use his powers last night.”

“You mentioned that you were researching it a while back… this is why?”

“Yeah,” Liz admitted. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Maria.  I have a lot to catch you up on. The short version of that story is that the night of the gala, we caught an alien serial killer.”

“WHAT!” Maria exclaimed. “Seriously!?!”

“Seriously,” Liz confirmed. “But before we got him, he tried to sabotage us at the gala.  He knocked out Max and Michael somehow and locked them in an old fallout shelter with a pile of that pollen inside.  So they had no cell reception, couldn’t use their powers, couldn’t get out. After that night I decided it would be a good idea to research that stuff so that we’d know what to do in the future.”

"Sure, but go back to the alien serial killer, because what the hell, Liz!?"

Liz sighed, "No, you're right. That is more important. And actually, it might help me give you the proof you need that this is all true."  Maria gestured for Liz to continue. "So...a variety of investigations kind of converged on the realization that we had 14 murders by an alien on our hands in the last decade.  The first was Rosa, and there were 13 more since, all targeted at Ranchero Night."

"My Ranchero Night?" Maria gasped. "But that's for charity.  It's supposed to be a night for good."

"And one person was taking advantage of that. The people who go to Ranchero Night are also the kind of people that the system are less likely to look into when they die. Easier to hide the death of a homeless man or a prostitute. Or an illegal immigrant." Liz spit out the last words angrily.  Maria placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She knew it was a sensitive spot for her friend. Anyone targeting her people tended to light Liz Ortecho on fire. "Sorry." Liz sighed. "I think he was going to target my dad next. That's how I figured out his identity. Max figured it out from you."

"Me?" Maria asked. "God, that night is such a blur for me. I barely can remember a thing."

"Yeah." Liz's voice sounded guilty and Maria looked sharply at her. "What? Tell me."

"He kinda drugged you that night. There was a date rape drug in your champagne. That's why you can't remember anything."

"Me? Why would he drug me?"

"He was trying to keep his identity a secret. But there were enough clues that we knew that he had to be someone close to us.  So you were the perfect target to throw off the scent."

"Liz, what did he do to me."

"Just… I'm getting there. He was a lot more powerful than Max, Michael, and Isobel. He could do everything they could do, plus even more. And he had no morals holding him back. He liked to possess humans when they were blacked out and use them as his puppets. So he drugged you so that he could use you to get at me."

"That's...insane." Maria protested.

"At least he didn't use you to murder anyone.  He used Isobel to murder Rosa, and he used Wyatt Long to try to kill me at Grant Green's warehouse."

"Well thank goodness for that!" Maria laughed bitterly.

"But I think this might help us prove it to you, Maria. I'll bet if we go over to the UFO Emporium, I can talk them into showing us the security footage from that night. You'll be able to see the difference in your behavior when you were just drugged versus possessed.  Let's go!"

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

Maria was thoroughly impressed by Liz's persuasive skills.  A smooth story about a misplaced purse the night of the gala and a promise of a free lunch at the Crashdown, and the pimply teenager working the counter at the emporium led them to a back room with a computer.  The kid logged in and pointed Liz to the file folder with the security footage. Liz crossed her heart and promised not to delete anything, and Maria promised to keep Liz in line, and then they were alone.

"That was almost too easy." Maria commented after the kid left.

"Investigating Rosa's death gave me a lot of practice at talking people into telling me things they didn't want to share." Liz explained while scrolling through the video files.  "I actually feel a little bad for the kid. I kept looking at him and envisioning little 16-year-old pre-goth Alex. Here we go."

Liz clicked on the video file from the night of the gala and blew it up.  The camera was set in one corner of the main ballroom, which gave them an overview look at the main event. Liz watched as people began to arrive for the gala.  She saw Maria walk in. Almost immediately one of the caterers walked past her with one last glass of champagne on the tray. He offered it to Maria, who immediately grabbed it and took a sip.

"That must have been how he got you." Liz mused. "He probably mindwarped that caterer into delivering the drugged champagne to you and only you."

Liz skipped ahead a few minutes, and there was the two of them, laughing together after Maria's slip of the tongue.  "I should have realized that something was wrong then," Liz chastised herself. "You deserved better."

She skipped ahead again to see Isobel speaking, and then Graham Green.  Maria laughed as Liz shuddered and swore under her breath in Spanish. "Hey, I saw his twin brother's murdered body! Cut me some slack!" Liz protested.

Soon after the speeches, the real party was getting going, and Liz spotted Maria dancing sloppily in the middle of the masses. She pointed and raised her eyebrows at Maria.

"I don't look all that put together, do I?" Maria sighed.

"It's not your fault." Liz reminded her.

They watched as Maria lost her balance and started to fall, but was caught and helped away by Noah Bracken.  "My hero." Maria said with a roll of her eyes.

"No." Liz stated firmly, hitting pause on the video. "No." She repeated, staring at the screen with a haunted look in her eyes. "He is not a hero."

Maria gasped as she suddenly understood what Liz was implying.

"Him? Noah is the serial killer?"

"He was." Liz confirmed. "He's gone now.  Max killed him." Maria couldn't help noticing that Liz seemed frozen, her eyes glued to his figure on the video.

"Liz, are you okay?"

Her friend just shook her head and hit play again on the video as they watched Noah and Maria leave the ballroom.  "Sorry. It's just…he murdered Rosa. And he tried to kill me at least four times that I know of. Somehow I kept surviving him, but I feel lucky that I did. The last time I saw him, he literally stabbed me in the gut with a kitchen knife."

Liz paused the video again and pulled up the bottom of her shirt to show Maria the wound that was still healing on her stomach.  "Kyle pulled the stitches out a few days ago, but he says I'm gonna have a hell of a scar."

"So you said four attempts. This stab wound is one, and Grant Green's warehouse was two...what were the other two times?" Maria carefully asked.

"The hospital shooting...although I'm not actually sure he was trying to kill me that time...it might have just been a diversion to access and destroy my research.  And then…" Liz nodded at the computer.

"He tried to kill you at the gala?"

"Once his cover was blown, Max and I tried to stop him from escaping. He tried to fry me with his powers, but I had injected him with a serum I created that blocked his powers and it kicked in just in time."

Liz hit play again. "We should see something soon here." They watched and waited, until a few minutes later, Maria casually sauntered out from the hallway that Noah had taken her down.  Her eyes were clear and wide, a smug smile on her face, and there was zero sign of the date rape drug in her system as she made her way through the room, casting flirty smiles at both men and women she passed, occasionally slipping a stray hand to caress a passerby.

"God, it's like I'm a totally different person," Maria gasped.  "That's not me."

"I know," Liz agreed. “That’s what I’m talking about. It was so obvious to me that night."

"What am I doing, d'ya think?"

"I'm pretty sure you're looking for me," Liz guessed.  "That serum I just mentioned? Most of it was destroyed in the hospital shooting, except for one last dose.  Noah wanted to get his hands on it so that it couldn't be used against him."

They watched as Maria left the ballroom.  "You found me in the ladies room. I left my purse with you while I did my business, and you went through it and stole a decoy serum that I had stashed there and then left without saying goodbye."

After a few minutes, Maria reentered the ballroom and crossed the room again. This time she was all business and no games, with her task complete.  She disappeared down the same hallway as before, and then a moment later, Noah emerged.

"Ugh," Liz groaned at the sight of him, literally twirling the syringe between his fingers before he slipped it into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. "He thought he had won."  

He wandered into the ballroom, looked around for a moment, and then approached Arturo Ortecho with a friendly handshake before starting a conversation with him.  Noah then led Arturo to a table, got them both drinks, and started talking emphatically at Liz's father.

"I can't." Liz cried out, skipping the video ahead. "I just can't watch him manipulate my Papi."

Liz skipped the video ahead a few more minutes, but nothing relevant seemed to be happening...until suddenly, about 20 minutes further into the footage, she froze and let the video play.  Maria could sense the tension and pain building in Liz at the sight of her and Max walking out onto the dance floor together in the video. A noise escaped from Liz's throat that sounded almost like a whimper of pain.  Maria could tell that her friend was trying, and failing, to fight the tears that were coming. She slid an arm over Liz's shoulder, and covered the hand that Liz had slid off of the mouse and onto the desk with her own hand for comfort. "I've got you," Maria murmured, and just like that, the tears began to flow down Liz's cheeks.

It was clear that Max and Liz were having a conversation as they danced, because the dancing slowed as their body language grew more intense. Then, Liz pulled Max into a kiss, before they separated and Liz turned to dance with her father.

"Well, you're too small for me to see on that camera, but by the looks of it, you certainly smeared your armor all over Max that night after all, huh?"

The comment tricked a laugh out of Liz, and soon they were just holding each other, laughing and crying.

"Okay, so you've convinced me," Maria finally said between laughs. "How about we get out of here? I guess I'll owe Guerin an apology."

"He means well," Liz told her, "but he's pretty messed up about losing Max...and something else too. Kyle has implied some things to me but refuses to go into detail. He just says something happened to Michael on this trip they took with Alex, but that's all he'll say."

Liz closed the video program and hit the log out button on the computer, and then the two friends headed for the exit, waving goodbye to the kid at the counter on their way out.

As they headed back towards the Crashdown, Liz turned to Maria and asked, "So was that enough surprises for one day, or could you handle one more?"

"Why not," Maria said with a laugh as she threw her hands in the air. "Go ahead and blow my mind some more, Liz."

"Do you have time to take a drive before work?"

Maria glanced at her phone. "Yeah, I can spare another couple hours."

"Great," Liz said with a smile. "Because - and I'm really surprised you didn't push this one earlier - I did tell you that Max succeeded in resurrecting someone."

"Yeah…" Maria replied curiously.

"Well, Rosa would love to see you."

Maria stopped dead in her tracks, staring at her friend, as Liz laughed, while leading Maria towards her car.

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

That night, just like the night before, Michael walked into the Wild Pony right at closing time, black cowboy hat in his hands, as he walked slowly up to the bar.

He looked uncertain, like he didn't know what he was walking into and he didn't know if he should leave.  His whole body was tense, like he was just waiting for a sign from her on what would happen next.

Maria looked him up and down, and shook her head with a half smile.  She grabbed two glasses, and their special bottle of whiskey from under the counter, and poured them each a couple fingers of it. She slid one across the bar to him, and raised her glass to him.

"Salud." They clinked glasses lightly and each took a sip.

Maria leaned forward, elbows on the bar surface, chin in her hands.

"Soooo," she started. "I hear you're an alien."