Disclaimer: I do not own: Gregor the Overlander.

Author's Note: The IIAA Chronicles is a series that combines several fandoms - Axis Powers Hetalia, Yu-Gi-Oh! (GX and 5D's), Merlin, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel (treating Season 8 and After the Fall as non-canonical), Digimon (to an extent), American Dragon: Jake Long, Percy Jackson and the Olympians, and, of course, Gregor the Overlander - with several original characters, an original setting, and original villains and plots. The basic premise is explained on my profile, with links to more information to understand the universe, and I'll probably be posting "resources" as separate stories to better explain IIAA.

Although it's not actually an alternate universe of any of the above fandoms, there are definitely elements of dimension-hopping and time travel in the story. This is neither the first nor the last installment in the main storyline - The Files - but storylines do not have to, and should not, be read in order. Although connected by an overarching storyline, "Overlander" is completely stand-alone.

Watch out for coming storylines (The Files [Staff], Missions, and Alternate Universe looks on what might have been), as well as future installments. And now, on with the show.

The letter came on the Wednesday four weeks after he came home from the Underland. He hadn't been there when the mailman came to drop off the post, so he hadn't been the first to read it. After he came home, he'd taken to wandering around Central Park, staring at the slab of stone that concealed the drop to above the Waterway, almost and almost and almost touching but never quite. Knowing that that part of his life was over, no matter what his parents decided about the Virginia move (There. The warrior's dead. I killed him.), and that he had to learn to give it up, or he never would. "It's like an addiction that you have to break," Mrs. Cormaci had said when he'd confided in her. "There's nothing wrong with it, Gregor. Just remember to live."

Remember to live. It sounded so easy. He'd spent the last few weeks learning how to die, and now he had to learn how to live.

He wished he'd had some more time. To say goodbye – to Nerissa, to Vikus, to Ripred, to Howard, to Hazard, to Luxa. To Ares.

The day the letter came had been a particularly bad one for him. He'd woken up with the sheets twisted around him, soaked to the bone in cold sweat and a scream he'd never voiced still echoing in his mind. It was odd, really, that he never had dreams of the war itself, but always of the things he associated with it – bloodthirsty rats, snow in a world secluded from the weather, a place where he couldn't see and couldn't make a sound (and falling, always falling, and there is no one there to catch him-).

Over breakfast his parents (so tired, so weak, so weary) had explained to him that they would try to get him back in school before the month was out, and Lizzie, too, and then the rest of the morning had been taken up with more talk about the Virginia move that he couldn't even begin to understand. Walking around Central Park for two hours after lunch had helped. Helped so much he couldn't even begin to describe. But it was always two hours, no more, for if his parents noticed he was gone longer, he'd come home to screaming and crying and Where were you, Gregor? Where were you? We were worried – so worried – never do that again! And it was horrible to say, even in his head, but he was getting tired of having to say, "I'm sorry;" even though he really wasn't.

When he came home, everybody's heads swung up to look at him from the kitchen table. He froze in the doorway.

"Gregor," Mrs. Cormaci said. "Come in."

He closed the door behind him warily, but did not step further into the room. Both his mother and father were looking at him with an almost calculating stare, and there was little blood in Lizzie's face. Even Boots was quiet, for once. "Hi," he said. No answer. "Um, what's going on?"

His dad offered him a piece of paper. "Take a look for yourself. This came in the mail this morning."

Gregor took it and flipped it over. Printed on it was the shortest letter he'd ever seen:

GREGOR CALDERON:

CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED AS A SCHOLARSHIP STUDENT TO IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC ACADEMY (LOCATED NEAR DALLAS, TEXAS) BASED ON PRESTIGEOUS RECOMMENDATION.

YOU ARE ONE OF ELEVEN STUDENTS TO BE SELECTED TO ATTEND OR RETURN FOR THE SECONDARY CLASS. IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC IS REKNOWN FOR ITS EXCLUSIVE NATURE AND THE EXCELLENCE ITS ALUMNI HAVE ACHIEVED, MANY GOING ON TO IVY LEAGUE SCHOOLS, JUILLIARD, OR IVY'S OWN GRADUATION PROGRAM. IVY IS ALSO ACKNOWLEDGED FOR ITS EXCEPTIONAL PROGRAMS IN THE FINE ARTS (THEATRE, MUSIC STUDIES, LITERATURE, AND ART) AND PHYSICAL ARTS (DANCE, ATHLETICS, COMPETITIVE SPORTS, NONCOMPETITIVE SPORTS, AND MORE) AS WELL AS ITS CURRICULUM.

WE AT IIAA (IVY INTERNATIONAL-ATLANTIC ACADEMY) ARE CERTAIN THAT YOUR TALENTS HERE WOULD ADD TO THE DIVERSITY AND COHESIVENESS THE STUDENT BODY POSSESSES. PLEASE CALL THE FOLLOWING NUMBER TO SCHEDULE AN APPOINTMENT WITH ONE OF THE THREE HEADS OF ADMISSION, SO WE MAY NEGOTIATE THE TERMS OF EITHER YOUR ACCEPTENCE OR REFUSAL. FOR FURTHER INFORMATION, CALL THIS NUMBER: (000)1249771

WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SHORTLY.

SINCERELY,

ARTHUR KIRKLAND
DIRECTOR OF IIAA
HEAD OF IIAA HISTORY AND ENGLISH DEPARTMENTS
CHAIR II ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

IZAYOI AKI
HEAD OF IIAA ARTS AND CULTURAL STUDIES
CHAIR I ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

MERLIN EMRYS
OFFICIARY AND SECRETARIAL DUTIES
CHAIR IV ON THE IIAA EXECUTIVE BOARD

And then, in smaller, handwritten letters near the bottom:

Sorry about the nature of this entire thing, really. Arthur's horrid at writing letters.

Gregor looked up as he finished reading. Mrs. Cormaci, his mother, father, and Lizzie were all staring fixedly at him. Boots was just tugging at one of the braids Lizzie had woven into her hair that morning. "Well?" said his dad. "What do you think?"

Frankly, Gregor was still at the "scholarship" part.

He glanced down at the letter, trying to pick out something else that had caught his attention the first time he'd read it. "Prestigious recommendation? I haven't even been to school all this year, and I was never great at it when I was. Who would have recommended me?" He glanced up, but no one seemed to have an answer for him. "Ivy League schools? Juilliard?"

"Very famous colleges, Gregor," his dad explained. "The Ivy League is the eight oldest colleges in the entire country, but everyone knows them as eight of the best. For high schools students 'Ivy League' pretty much means 'smartest schools in the country.' And Juilliard is the best school you could want to get into for performing arts – that is, dance, drama, and music."

"So this school's a pretty exclusive one, then." Gregor looked back down at the letter. "But then, why do they want me? I haven't been anything special in school. Why not Lizzie?" The girl in question flushed and looked away. "Or someone else?"

"I don't know, honey," his mother admitted. "But they want you."

"One of eleven," his dad said. "In the entire country."

"Frankly, the entire thing sounds like a big hoax to me," Mrs. Cormaci murmured. Gregor had to agree with her; he ran track, played the saxophone in the school band. But that was it. He wasn't even really an A-honors student for the most part, except in English and Science, and Math when his dad was there to help him. He looked up, saw on the faces of his mom and dad that they thought the same. He wasn't even offended; it was just the truth.

"I don't trust them, either," he said. He saw his mom and dad exchanging strange looks, and felt a tinge of unease mixed with irritation travel down his spine.

"The letter looks very official, though," Lizzie said.

His attention snapped back to her, and then back down to the letter. She had a point. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything, though," his dad said, and Gregor found he had a point, too. "There are plenty of people who could fake that."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mrs. Cormaci sighed. "Gregor, just call the number. It can't hurt to talk to them, to see if they really are who they say they are. The whys and hows and reasons of it we can all debate later. Gregor," and she fixed him with a very piercing look, "if this place really is legitimate, and all of the talk about fancy colleges and programs isn't just talk, this is a real opportunity. We can worry about how or why you later."

"We don't want to rush you into any kind of decision, Gregor," his mom explained. "But it wouldn't hurt just to take a look, would it?"

They liked this school. Were skeptical of it, but Gregor knew, by the way Boots was watching him intently and hadn't said anything since her quiet greeting – an unprecedented event in this house – and by the way Lizzie couldn't look at him, and by the way his mom and dad and Mrs. Cormaci were all so quick to agree, that something had already been decided. They'd been talking about this long before he walked in the door, and he knew – something had already been decided.

He glanced back down at the letter. Dallas, Texas, the neat, computer-automated print said, like a blow between the eyes. A fancy boarding school miles away, where he could try to get back to the normal life they could all quite plainly see he was never going to get back to in New York, so close to the place it had all started, so surrounded by remnants of the person he was before. A new beginning. A new beginning miles away from the Underland. For that, he knew, his parents and Lizzie and Boots could survive without him.

He wondered why that sounded so good.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and reached for the phone.

Author's Notes: Not a prologue because it jumps right into the action, but also not a true first chapter where IIAA is brought into the spotlight and the real plot begins. I know, Boots is too quiet, but she's at that age - right between three and four - where the energy of a toddler starts to settle down and change before turning into the energy of a little kid, and a dramatic change in lifestyle - remember, she's been living in the Underland with Gregor for quite a while, engaged in war that she has some understanding, if not a lot, of, and missing one or both parents for nearly as long as she's been alive - has been shown to affect the psyche of children as much as it affects the psychological make-up of older children, like Gregor, and adults. Next chapter, the real work begins.

Updates might be slow - just letting you know now - but there's a good, good chance I won't abandon this. Next up: the beginning of Arc I: The Destinies in an Open Hand, and the beginning of Gregor's introduction to IIAA. Until then.

Fly you high. Watcher.