Here it is! The much-requested first meeting of Alak and Christie!
Rating: All ages
Author: castithientogenes (my tumblr account)
*Author's Note: I do not own the characters or world of Defiance. I'm simply a fan of the show, wanting to share my perceptions. The following is a fanfiction about how Alak and Christie first met. It's an idea from my own head that has not been confirmed or denied by the show, but I hope you enjoy it. Please give constructive criticism and tell me what you think! I think that after all of the positive feedback I've gotten, this will end up being a series of one-shots about Alak and Christie, so be sure to read all 'chapters.' :) *
"Dad, can I go out now?" Christie McCawley asked, holding her hair out of her face with a wet hand and reaching for a towel with the other. "I've finished the dishes and the laundry, but I wanted to go look at the traders in the town center today."
Rafe McCawley looked up from the set of blueprints in his hands and leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the smooth wood of the kitchen table. "As long as you remember the rules," he reminded her in his gruff voice. People always said his voice made him seem scary, but to Christie he was just her father. "Don't-"
"'Don't go into anyone's house, stay in sight of the center square at all times, don't go near the mines, don't be a bother, and be smart.'" Christie recited. "I know, dad. I'm nearly fifteen." She hung the towel over the back of the chair and walked past her father, patting his shoulder reassuringly. Her white bag lay on the bottom step of the stairs, and as she grabbed it she heard a yell from the kitchen.
"Hey!" her father barked. "Don't go near those haints, either, Christie!"
Her fingers found the metal of the doorknob. "Yes, dad," she called back, but as the door opened in front of her, more softly she sighed. "Castithans," she reminded her unknowing father. "They're called Castithans."
The door swung shut behind her, a small click letting her know it had latched. With a jump in her step, Christie jogged down the steps and up the path toward Defiance.
The town was a bustling place of activity. People were everywhere, humans and Votans alike, playing and exploring and doing business. As she walked through the streets, Christie paid close attention to the ongoings around her. Her curiosity with this town and its inhabitants always kept her up thinking at night, but her father only let her come into town once or twice a week, and it was often for specific errands. Being able to observe at her liesure was a commodity she was unaccustomed to, but which was also very rewarding, given her fascination with the new aliens and their cultures.
Across the street an Irathient woman with vivid red hair and golden eyes was tossing a ball between herself and two little boys with dark blonde hair. A human woman who appeared to be their mother watched, looking mildly worried, the lines of her face drawn down with caution. The boys fought over who got to catch the ball each time while the Irathient waited patiently, dribbling the ball below her until the boys came to an agreement.
Just a few steps up the road, a two Castithan girls and a young human girl seemed to be playing a game of hide and seek; after looking hard enough, Christie spotted a Sensoth who was crouched down behind a box, his auburn fur blending with the tans and dark browns of the buildings. He had bared his teeth in what looked like as grin as he closely watched the children who were searching for him. Christie wondered if he volunteered to do this for fun, or if he was a Castithan servant who had been endowed with the task of babysitting.
Delighted with the interactions she was observing, Christie walked with a hop in her step down the street in the direction of the town center, where most of the shops were set up during the day. Even from this far down the street she saw the white tent flaps whipping about as people moved between them, looking for a piece of clothing or a loaf of bread meant to accompany their next dinner.
Christie first headed toward the agriculture tents on the right side of the square, one of the busiest areas in the shopcenter. A few weeks ago a girl had mentioned to her that traders would be moving through Defiance with mangoes and other more rare crops, and she was desperate to buy some of the sweet fruit. Within moments she located the traders' tents, characterized by a darker red flap that one didn't normally see in town. She fought through groups of people, aware that she was not the only person looking to buy from these traders, and hoped that the fruits had not already been bought out. She shrugged aside the slightly concealing canvas of the far side of one of the tents and moved into the shade of the overhang, immediately maneuvering around more people for the light orange and green fruits in the back and the box labeled 'Mangoes' in English, Casithan, and Irathient.
They were soft and fuzzy on the outside, prickly underneath her palm as she picked one up and rolled it between her hands. She looked around for a trader to ask about a price, but soon caught sight of a small handwritten label taped to the outside of the mango box. Happy with the price, she picked three of the best-looking fruits and placed them carefully in the bottom of her bag, dropping the appropriate number of coins into the hand of a man who sat just inside the far edge of the tent as she ducked out from beneath the tent.
The light of the sun slightly blinded her as she stepped from beneath the shade. It made her eyes water for a moment, and she squinted, her hand coming up to cover her eyes so that she could survey the other shops. Across the center square there was a huge, more permanent-looking pavilion set up with tables that held shiny pieces that caught her eye, and she headed in that direction. She passed a couple of vegetable stands and a jewelry stand, and nearly stopped at the latter when she spotted a necklace with a beautifully carved purple crystal hanging from it. A gasp passed her lips at its beauty; but her face fell when she saw the price tag just below it. I'll ask about it later, she told herself, and moved past with a slight sadness.
Upon closer observation, Christie realized that the shining objects in the tent across the street were knives; this seemed to be a weapons tent. Behind the table stood a tall man with a pair of sunglasses who paid her no attention as she stepped closer to the weapons. Carefully she reached out to pick up one of the smaller blades and pulled it carefully from its sheath, admiring its sharp edges and the dark metal it was forged from. She pressed her slender finger to its tip and squinted at the oddly painful itch that seemed to well on her finger upon its contact.
"Do you actually know how to use that?" inquired a voice behind her. Christie whirled around in search of its owner, nearly cutting herself with the blade in the process. Leaning against one of the poles of the tent was a pale Castithan boy who looked a little older than her, his lilac eyes intent on hers.
"Well... no," Christie admitted apologetically. "I've never been taught. I was just looking." She fiddled with the blade in her fingers.
"They are pretty, aren't they?" the Castithan boy asked, more in agreement than in question. He pushed away from the pole and walked toward her. Christie wasn't scared by him despite his tall stature and strange coloring, but she was intrigued; his eyebrows and eyelashes were as pale as his hair, which reached almost to his shoulders and was a light white-blonde aside from one dark blue streak. His skin, unblemished and smooth, was also strangely pale, as though he had rubbed white powder all over himself. She had seen Casithans from afar but had never stood close enough to one to see their features clearly.
"Yeah, they are," she agreed, dropping her gaze to the knife in her hand as she slid it back into its sheath and turned to place it back on the black cloth material covering the table.
"Wait," said the boy, holding his hand out, and Christie paused, her hand resting on the sheath of the knife. "If you like it, why don't you buy it?"
Christie thought for a moment, unsure of her reasoning.
"I don't have a use for it," she said finally. "I don't think my father would teach me how to use it, and it's too deadly to be a desk ornament."
"What if I taught you?" the boy asked after a moment, his face lighting up slightly. "I need to practice, anyway." His eyes searched hers, waiting for what he hoped would be a positive response.
A wave of shame crashed over her. "My dad... doesn't like Votans," she admitted, sadness washing over her. "He would be angry with me if he knew I was talking to you."
"Your father doesn't have to know," the boy said, taking the news in stride. "I doubt my parents want me to hang out with a human either," he said earnestly.
Christie hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment, before a smile spread across her face.
"Okay," she agreed. "You can teach me."
"Great! Let's go."
"Now?" she asked, surprised. He nodded impatiently.
"Yeah, now!" the boy confirmed. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the tent. She had trouble keeping up with his long strides, but he maintained an iron grip around her wrist as he dragged her into the shade to the side of a building in the closest corner of the square.
"Here," the boy said as he slowed and stopped, letting go of her wrist. "Use mine." He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a knife very similar to the one she had just been looking at. He stretched his arm out to her, holding the tip of the blade between two fingers. Christie took it awkwardly, shifting it around in her hand so that she held it by its hilt.
"No," he said with a chuckle, moving toward her. He reached out to grasp the knife with one hand and her fingers with his other. His feet shifted as he maneuvered himself to stand just behind her, his arms encircling hers as he positioned her hand on the hilt of the knife.
"Hold it like this," he told her, placing her fingers around it. His pale long, pale fingers were warm around hers. Christie grasped it firmly, trying to hold it like he directed, but no matter what she did he corrected something.
Christie laughed and was re-positioning her hand once again when a loud bell tolled, startling her into dropping the knife in her hand.
"Is that the 6 o'clock bell?" she asked, and he nodded as he leaned down to retrieve the blade. "I have to go. My father wants me home before dark."
"Will you come back so that I can teach you?"
"I can't come every day," Christie told him after a moment's hesitation.
"That's all right. Come whenever you can. I'm almost always in town, and I hang around here a lot. Just look around and you'll see me. Come on, I'll walk you back through the tents." The boy grinned as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
She began walking back toward the center of the square, with him following close behind. They passed most of the tents, and she nearly walked past the one where she had seen the necklace before she remembered her mental note.
"Wait a moment!" she told the boy, rushing into the tent as its owners were packing up. Scrambling in her bag, she pulled out all of her coins and counted them as the shop woman waited with one hand on her hip. After a few breathless moments, Christie dropped her hands.
"Never mind," she told the woman. "Sorry." She backed out of the tent into the quickly fading sunlight.
"You're not going to buy it?" the boy asked her for the second time since their meeting.
"I don't have enough," she sighed, trying not to let her disappointment show. "Come on, I have to go."
Instead, the boy grasped a part of her bag and pulled, keeping Christie from walking forward. He stepped into the tent, and put a hand on the shop woman's shoulder to make her wait. Out of his pocket he pulled a small red bag full of clinking coins and handed the entire thing to the woman. He then lifted the purple crystal pendant from its hanger, holding it between his slender fingers.
"This is the one you want, right?" he asked. Christie's mouth opened slightly and she suddenly felt flustered.
"But it costs so much!" she exclaimed. "You don't need to spend your money on it! Go on, put it back-"
"You want it, do you not?" he asked her again. She didn't answer. "Come on, it's just a bit of money. It will look really pretty if you wear it." He stepped behind her, his arms coming down over her head to place the gem on her collarbone, and she shivered slightly as he swept her hair back and clasped the necklace behind her head.
"Thank you so much," she said happily, fingering the cool purple stone that rested just above her breast. "I'll pay you back."
"Don't worry about it," he said with a gentle smile. "Now come on. Didn't you say you have to get home?"
He walked her to far edge of the square and stopped just around the corner from the main road out of town, standing silently as though waiting for her to do something.
"Hey, thanks," Christie said awkwardly. She tucked her bag next to her side and pulled a strand of her hair back with one hand, unsure of how to phrase her question. "Before I go... Tell me. What do you get out of this?"
"Out of what?" the boy asked, seeming genuinely confused.
"Out of teaching me how to use a knife and spending money on pretty jewelry?"
He didn't say anything for a moment, and then he smiled, and the skin around his beautiful eyes crinkled.
"Well, I like learning new things. And I like you. You're nice. So, maybe if I teach you some things about me... will you teach me some things about you, and your human culture?"
"What do you want to know?" asked Christie. It hadn't even occurred to her that some Votans might be just as curious about humans as she was about Votans. To the Votans, humans were the aliens.
"For starters," the boy said, "What is an acceptable way to tell you goodbye for the night?"
"There... There are lots of ways," Christie stuttered. "Way too many to explain in a few moments." She stopped, unsure of what else to say without more time.
"Then I hope," the boy said quietly, "That this is okay." Before Christie realized what he was doing, he had grasped her hand in his own and brought it up to his mouth, pressing his lips against the the skin just below her knuckles.
Christie blushed furiously and desperately hoped that the gathering darkness was enough to cover the evidence of her embarrassment on her cheeks. She didn't know what to say, so when he dropped her hand, she bowed awkwardly with a muttered 'thank you,' then turned away from him, in the direction of her home.
"Wait," said the boy from behind her. "You never told me your name."
"Christie," she said, as she turned around. "My name is Christie. What about yours?"
She looked into his lovely lilac eyes as he answered; it was almost too dark to see anything other than his pale outline, but she heard his voice clearly.
"Me?" he said with a smile. "My name is Alak."
Hope you enjoyed it! Please be sure to tell me what you think!