Title: On My Knees
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: Five years, and she's still struggling just to survive.
Chapter Three: By Your Side
She dreams of Alex sometimes. She lays in bed next to her husband and dreams of the first boy she ever loved, and wonders if this is not some sort of betrayal. She should be dreaming of Jesse and the life she has with him, not of the life she once wanted with another boy.
But she likes those dreams, and she never pushes them away. Deep down in the hidden recesses of her heart, she still loves Alex and knows that she always will.
When the morning comes, sunlight streaming through the window, falling in golden rays across her bed, she wakes to see Jesse's cheerful face. She loves Jesse, too, and does not regret the life she has made with him. She takes his hand when they walk through the streets together, and he squeezes her fingers and smiles gently, a reminder that he will always be there for her, even after he learned her secret, even with everything he knows about her and the danger that follows her everywhere.
But she still dreams of Alex.
Tess stood near the door, watching everything apprehensively. The two FBI agents had lead her back into the mall and through a door near the end of the Food Court marked Mall Personnel Only. At the end of the hallway, they had come to a room which, to Tess' surprise, was not the janitor's closet that it appeared to be. Instead, they had entered into a well-furnished conference room, complete with a large mahogany table and several oak chairs.
Timothy White and Greg Thompson both sat down at the table, and gestured for Tess to do the same. She hesitated, then took a seat a little distance away from them.
"Okay," Tess said firmly, "what is this place?"
"It's a conference room," Agent Thompson answered. "Used primarily by the various local executives of the stores in this mall. Sometimes, if a remodeling or a new policy is going to affect more than one store in the mall, the stakeholders all get together and discuss it." He gestured to the room. "This is where they discuss."
"And they just let you use it?" Tess asked skeptically.
Agent White answered with a smirk, "We are the FBI. We can be very… persuasive." Then he leaned forward and added, "But don't worry, we already checked the room for bugs before we came to meet you. It's clean, we aren't being spied on."
"Okay…" Again, Tess hesitated. "So… the FBI is on my side?
Agent White glanced apprehensively at Agent Thompson. He seemed uncomfortable, and then he replied softly, worriedly, "We are on your side. Not everyone holds out viewpoints about you and your… friends."
Tess flinched. "How much do you know about me?"
"Well," Agent White answered, "we ourselves didn't get involved in any of this until about six years ago, right around the time that you…" he trailed off for a moment, "left."
Tess nodded. "Go on."
"You see, although the Special Unit was shut down, there were still several people interested in the information that Donald Pierce had obtained." Agent White interlaced his fingers on the table in front of him. "We kept our eye on Roswell, but nothing showed up… until that Christmas."
Tess rubbed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what had happened the Christmas before she was forced to leave Roswell. She had invited Amy DeLuca over for Christmas dinner, hoping to add a little cheer into Jim's day. Kyle had told her that he was happy she was part of the family. She had felt included.
A soft smile lit her face, and then faded as she came to the realization that this was clearly not what the FBI agents were referring to. She wracked her brain for another moment, then remembered Max's use of his healing gifts. The entire pediatric oncology ward at the hospital had benefited from his powers, and all the children had born silver handprints on their stomachs to prove it.
"I'm surprised that any of you thought we wouldn't notice the handprints that suddenly appeared," Agent Thompson commented as he saw the light of understanding appear in Tess' eyes.
"You knew?" Tess asked, leaning back in her chair and eyeing the two men with curious apprehension. "You knew all along that we were… different?"
Agent White nodded quickly, and Agent Thompson elaborated, "But you didn't kill anyone. Contrary to many of the other recorded incidents of silver handprints, you had not harmed a single soul. Instead, you saved many, many children who would have undoubtedly died otherwise."
"Max saved them," Tess whispered.
"So," Agent White continued, "we resolved to watch all of you. Max and Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, Liz Parker, Maria DeLuca, Alex Whitman, and Kyle Valenti. And yourself, of course. As long as you did not appear to be a threat, there was no reason to interfere in your lives. But if you ever turned against us…" He trailed off, his meaning obvious to Tess.
"We didn't understand much of what was going on," Agent White admitted. He ran a hand through his hair and added sheepishly, "We still don't. But we know enough to know that you are not a threat to us."
Tess gave a thin smile and said bitterly, "I'm not sure everyone else would say that."
Agent Thompson rose from his seat and Tess noticed for the first time that he held a file folder in his hands. She stared at it, her gaze fixed on the papers poking out from the edges, and the FBI agent said, "Ah, yes… We did wonder what happened to Alex Whitman."
Tess lifted her eyes sharply to his face. "Did you ever come to any conclusions?"
"No," Agent Thompson answered frankly. "We didn't think it was a suicide, but there wasn't any reason to suspect any of you either. But then, you disappeared, and for a while we thought you were dead. Imagine our surprise when you returned to our radar… with a child."
"You see, Ms. Harding," Agent White cut in before Tess had a chance to say anything, "all we really have are guesses. Ideas of what might have happened. We did some digging, you see, and found some interesting bits of information from a time before our observation of your group began."
"Such as?" Tess questioned lightly.
"A group of people abducted and lead to New York City without their knowledge. The mysterious death of a congresswoman who turned out to be a lot more than that. And two other… unique people with unique abilities… who caused quite a bit of damage on their own." Agent Thompson paused, then added, "They looked a bit like your friends Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin."
Tess swallowed nervously. "Lonnie and Rath," she murmured, recalling the two hybrids who had plagued her nightmares for so long.
"Indeed," Agent White agreed. "And, of course, since then we have also gathered quite a bit of information about the rest of your old friends. They manage to stay below the general public's radar, but we've kept our eyes on them. They are in the middle of a war, and they are fighting to protect themselves, and innocent bystanders."
Tess lifted on eyebrow. "Are they? I didn't know." She wondered if they needed her. Had she made the right decision, choosing not to face them again? She doubted they would have believed her story, but she hadn't even tried to convince them of any of it… She had her own fears and dangers to contend with, and keeping her son safe had been her main concern. He was safer here, away from them, from that war…
And yet, in keeping her son safe, had she unknowingly harmed all of them?
"Yes," Agent White said. "Why, just a week ago, Mr. Guerin used his extraordinary gifts to save a woman who was being attacked by… I believe you call them skins?" He smiled, then added, "Of course, they have to be careful not to use their gifts in public. But still… They do help innocent humans who are in harms way. And they don't kill needlessly."
"So, putting the various pieces together, we've come up with a story," Agent Thompson said, placing the file on the table and sliding it over to Tess. "It goes something like this. There are a few teenagers who are, for all intents and purposes, simply trying to survive in this world. There are some other people out there who mean these teenagers harm, and will do anything to succeed in their goals. At some point… we aren't exactly sure why… one of our innocent teenagers is separated from the others, and she continues to live her life without them. In her absence, they continue a battle against our evil enemies." His tilted his head to the side. "Does that sound accurate?"
Tess sighed, resting her hands on the file folder. She wondered what she would find inside. "You seem to know a lot," she said at last. "But I don't understand why you've come to me with this."
"Because we have a guess about why you left," Agent Thompson said coolly, "and we think it has something to do with the people in that folder."
Tess flipped it open, and stared at the first picture. There were two men in it. One of them she recognized all to well, and as she traced a finger over his familiar features, the name Nicolas resounded in her mind. She didn't say it out loud, but she could feel the rising fear in her stomach, the sudden panic that filled her when she remembered what he had done all those years ago.
The other man she did not recognize. He was handsome, tall, dark, clean cut, with a well chiseled jaw and a head of wavy hair.
"You know the first man," Agent White said, and it was not a question. He touched his finger to the second man in the picture and said, "Our field agents have manage to overhear a few conversations between these two men. This man is always referred to by either the title Your Majesty or the name Khivar."
That caught Tess' attention. "Khivar is on Earth?" she demanded, aghast. She thought of her son, innocently playing at kindergarten right now, the greatest threat to Khivar's regime. How much danger was he in? How much danger surrounded them all?
"I see the name means something to you," Agent Thompson said softly, taking his seat again.
Tess blinked and hesitated, unsure what to say. She glanced back and forth between the two agents, her mind traveling quickly over all the possibilities. They knew so much about her, about all of them. They could be aliens, friends of enemies, and this could be some sort of trap. Or, if they really were the FBI, then perhaps this was just a way of getting her to admit to being from another planet, getting her to tell them information that they needed.
Stalling in order to buy herself more time to think, Tess said, "Why have you come to me? Why not go to one of the others?"
"Because we are the FBI," Agent Thompson said finally. "And we know quite a bit more than you will ever truly understand."
Tess narrowed her eyes. Was that a threat of some sort?
"This battle may be fought over the right to rule a planet. It may be fought over greed and wealth and power." Agent White paused, giving Tess a scrutinizing stare. "But we know what Khivar is most afraid of, and it is not any of the others."
Tess licked her dry lips. "It isn't me, either," she said. "He's not afraid of me."
"No," Agent Thompson agreed. He rested his hands on the smooth surface of the table. "But he is afraid."
Tess tightened her hands into fists on her lap below the table. "Alex," she said. "He's afraid of my son."
"We want to stop this Khivar," Agent White said, still staring at the picture of alien king. "And we want your help to do it."
He paused, and Tess could sense that something big was coming, some request she was not going to like.
"And we want you to convince the others… particularly Max Evans… to help us as well," Agent White said finally, and Tess could only stare in disbelief as she processed his request.
Michael tossed his half-eaten apple into the garbage and glanced around the kitchen. Maria had gone out for a walk, ostensibly because she needed the exercise, but he knew the real reason. She needed to be away from him, from any other presence, for a while. Just so that she could process what was happening to her best friend. It had been hard to lose Alex, and now she faced the possibility of losing her other best friend as well. For someone who had always built her life around her friends and family, these loses were almost more than she could bear.
He sat on one of the chairs, lifting his feet into the air and letting them fall onto the edge of the table. If Maria was there, she'd yell at him about covering their eating space with mud and dirt. If Isabel were there, she'd roll her eyes at him and mutter something about his lack of manners.
But, of course, neither was there, and he took a moment to bask in the freedom their absences allowed him.
And then the phone rang. He glanced at it, wondering why people kept calling. First it was Max, with news for Maria, then it was Amy, with more news for Maria. Whoever it was, it most likely wasn't for him, and he thought about ignoring it.
But finally, he rose to his feet and walked grouchily to the phone. Lifting it with a jerk, he snapped irritably into the phone, "Yes?"
"Hello to you, too, Michael," a voice said.
Michael groaned inwardly, recognizing a voice he had not heard in a very long time, and wondering what exactly he was supposed to say. He rubbed the back of his head absently, then answered, "Hello, Mr. Valenti. Haven't heard from you in a while." His voice was filled with sarcasm.
"I'm sure Amy already called Maria with news about Kyle and his daughter," Valenti said, getting straight to the point, "so I don't need to fill you in on any of those details."
"I heard," Michael replied stonily, walking back to the table and sitting down. He stopped for a moment, a thought suddenly coming to mind, and asked in a demanding tone, "Was that why you spoke to Amy? To make sure that she would call Maria?" When Valenti didn't answer right away, Michael said angrily, "Did you know that Maria was happy that the two of you had spoken? Did you know that she thought maybe there was a chance for Amy and you to get back together? How do you think she'll take it when she finds out you were only using her mother as a conduit of information? Why couldn't you just call and tell us yourself?"
Valenti didn't answer right away, and when he did, his voice shook slightly, as though he felt guilty. "Because I was busy taking care of Kyle and my granddaughter," he answered finally.
He didn't say that he hadn't wanted to speak to Michael, but the hybrid general had a fairly good idea that Valenti's actions were also motivated by a desire to keep as much space between himself and the aliens as possible. Michael relented just a little, and closed his eyes, resting his head on one hand, elbow propped on the table.
"I am sorry to hear about your daughter-in-law," he said.
"Thank you. And I was glad to see Amy again," Valenti added. There was another silence, and then he asked, "Are you still involved in… uh… you know."
"Czechoslovakian business?" Michael supplied. "Yes, we are." He wanted to yell into the phone that they were actually fighting a war, one that the two Valentis had so obviously decided to withdraw themselves from. The plight of more than one planet rested on stopping Khivar, but it wasn't Michael's fault that things had happened the way they had, and if Kyle and Jim didn't want to be a part of this, he wasn't going to feel guilty about them feeling driven away from the group.
"And do you think… is there any reason to believe… that my daughter-in-law… Jennifer… her death…"
Michael opened his eyes sharply when he realized what Valenti was asking, and snapped irritably, "Maybe she was just a lousy driver. Do you really think this is one more thing you can blame on us?"
The sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line was a signal to Michael that his words had caused more damage than he had truly intended.
"I was just curious," Valenti answered, and his voice had no emotion, no affect, to it. "In case Kyle and his daughter are still in danger."
"Maybe they would be in less danger if he hadn't decided just to walk out of our lives," Michael hissed. "We were all grieving, we were all betrayed." He stopped, then added just for good measure, "She was our family also."
The old wounds caused by Tess' betrayal still ran deep, and Valenti's voice was raw when he answered, "Maybe, but you have to admit that Kyle and I were the closest to her."
"And Max," Michael retorted. "Or have you forgotten about the kid they share? You know, the one that Max will most likely never find." He glared at the tabletop in front of him, wishing that Kyle and Valenti were both standing there so that he could pound some sense into the two men. They were not the only ones who had been hurt, and they weren't even the ones who were closest to Alex.
He remembered the last conversation he had had with Kyle, when the jock had finally made up his mind to leave the group, leave Roswell, and burn all the bridges behind him.
"You can't just leave, Valenti," Michael argued, throwing the door open and storming into the room. It was nearing the end of the school year, and graduation would send them all on their separate ways. But Kyle was the one who had made it clear to everyone else that the moment he left, he'd be completely gone, and he had no intention of coming back.
Kyle looked up from where he was sitting at his desk. He blinked in surprise. Over the past year, he had drifted further and further away from the others, returning to his football friends instead. It was rare that he ever had a conversation with any of them, except Liz on occasion, and even those were strained and awkward. He wanted to move on, and he wanted to do it without them.
"You really can't tell me what to do," Kyle answered calmly, although his voice held a little bit of a challenge in it.
"Look, you aren't the only one who hurt by this…"
"And yet, somehow, my dad and I are always the ones who are hurt the most. Or have you not noticed the downward spiral you sent my father into?" Kyle shot back.
"You blame us for that?" Michael asked incredulously.
"Well, you are the reason my father lost his job and his dignity. The reason he's been disgraced throughout this entire town," Kyle replied pointedly. "He helped you, over and over, and you never once stopped to wonder what the consequences to him would be."
"Well sorry we were too busy trying to fight a war with out mortal enemies," Michael hissed, his face flushed red with fury. Kyle simply wasn't being fair, and Michael wasn't about to let him get away with it. "Do you know how upset Maria is by this? By you ignoring us? Any Amy just wants to help your father, but he keeps pushing her away. Do you know how hurt she is?"
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Do you have any idea what it is like to watch your entire life crumble around you?" he said softly, although his voice was still lined with a cold steel.
"At least you still have a life," Michael answered. "Thanks to Max. Without him, you would have died."
Kyle rose from his seat, his arms crossed against his chest. "So I should be grateful to Max?" he sneered his voice dripping with acidic bitterness. "Did you notice that it took him about five or ten minutes to decide to heal me? I'd been shot because of all of you, because you'd dragged my dad into your feud with the FBI. It was your fault, his fault, that I was bleeding to death on the floor, and Max just stood there trying to figure out if my life was worth saving. Liz he can rush to in a second. Liz he will risk everything for. But me? When I am dying, because of your stupid alien mess, he has to figure out whether or not he actually cares."
"He saved your life," Michael said again, because in truth, there was nothing else he could say. He did remember the way Max had hesitated, remembered how Valenti had fallen to his knees beside his son and begged the alien king for help. He remembered how Kyle had been lying there, pale and cold, and how they had all just stood there, stunned at Pierce's sudden death, he himself horrified at what he had done. And Kyle had been bleeding on the floor…
"And my dad thought he owed Max because of that," Kyle replied. "You save my son's life, and I'll save yours. But then he just kept giving, over and over, until you'd taken everything from him. He paid back his dues, he settled the score between himself and Max, but that wasn't enough for you. You all wanted more and more, and he never knew when to stop."
Michael shook his head. "We made some bad choices," he answered. "But so did your father. You can't blame us for everything. You can't tell us that it is our fault your father decided to sink into depression after Tess left. We were all grieving, but we didn't deal with it the way he did. We struggled and we moved on. Your father made his own choices."
"And now I'm making mine," Kyle said firmly, nodding to the door, gesturing for Michael to leave him alone. "And my choice is to leave this town and all of you behind."
Valenti's voice, soft and almost apologetic, brought Michael from his memories. "Look," the ex-Sheriff said, "I didn't call to argue with you. I just wanted… I wanted to know if my son was in danger. Can you tell me that, or not?" His voice shook as he spoke, the pain of the recent tragedy still obviously weighing heavily upon him.
Again, Michael found himself relenting. "If you can tell me a bit more about what happened, I can determine if it was in anyway related to us," he offered. "Although I doubt it. I think we would have heard if they were after your family."
Valenti sighed. "Thank you," he said, and began to relay the details of the car accident.
The house was everything Isabel always wanted. Perfect in every way, filled with elegant luxury and stunning works of art, paintings and little ceramic or porcelain figurines that adorned the exquisitely crafted tables. She stood in the center of the room, looking around with a proud smile, and remarked casually, "I think I made the right choice in marrying you."
Jesse, sitting on the sofa near the window, his nose buried in several legal documents, looked up with an easy smile and said, "Well, that's good. I'd hate to find divorce papers on my desk tomorrow."
"I still can't get over how amazing this house is," Isabel said with a sigh.
Jesse rolled his eyes and said teasingly, "We've been here three years. Haven't you had enough time to get used to everything yet?"
Isabel sat down next to him on the sofa and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Can't a woman enjoy her own home?"
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly towards him. "I'm glad you're happy, Isabel."
The tone of his voice gave her pause, and she looked up at him, eyes filled with suspicion. "Any reason why I shouldn't be?" she asked cautiously, unsure if she actually wanted to know the answer.
"No," Jesse said quickly, too quickly. "Can't a husband be glad that his wife is happy?"
Isabel pulled away from him and sat up fully. "Jesse?"
Jesse sighed and looked down at her with pity in his dark eyes. "I'm sorry, Isabel. I wanted to wait and tell you later tonight so that I wouldn't ruin your day." He hesitated, then said, "Max called."
"What's wrong?" Isabel demanded instantly, horrible scenarios flooding her mind. Had something happened? Had her brother or Michael been attacked? The others, were they all okay? Had the skins made a move?
"It's Liz."
Isabel stood quickly. She took a few steps away from Jesse, needing her own personal space to deal with this bit of information. She knew whatever Max had to say would not be pleasant. Liz had been loosing her battle with cancer for so long now that Isabel could only help but wonder just how much time she had left.
"The treatments aren't working," Isabel said finally, dully. "She's not getting better."
"No," Jesse answered. There wasn't much more he could say to that, but he didn't want to simply leave her with something as painful as the possible death of a friend. "Max said there was a new option. A more radical treatment. It might work… they're aren't really sure." He rose to his feet as well and moved to Isabel's side. Placing a hand on her back, he repeated reassuringly, "It might work."
"Does Max need us to come to him?" Isabel asked finally, wondering if her brother was subconsciously preparing for Liz's funeral.
"Actually," Jesse answered, "they're going to Seattle. And Max wanted to know if we'd be able to fly out to Seattle to stay with Liz if for any reason he needs to return to California." Jesse didn't have to elaborate, Isabel knew he was thinking about the war. Max had duties as the king, as the leader of this fight, and it was possible that he would need to abandon Liz should something come up. In which case, Liz would probably want another friend to keep her company, and Max would want another alien there, watching over her.
"Of course," Isabel said. "I should call him and let him know I can come whenever he needs me."
"I already told him that we'd be happy to come," Jesse said before Isabel could reach for the phone. "He was spending the rest of the day with Liz, I don't think we should disturb them."
"We?" Isabel questioned worriedly. "But what about your law firm? Can you just leave them?"
"I can take personal days," Jesse answered dismissively. "Besides, I'm a junior partner there, remember? I have a bit more leeway than the average lawyer. I can just tell them that a family member is very sick. It's fine."
Isabel stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Thank you," she said, and meant it.
"We're in this together, right?" Jesse answered with a shrug. He had married Isabel and everything that went with her, from the crazy alien gifts and the ubiquitous fear of enemies to the extended network of close friends and family that watched over both of them. Liz was Isabel's family and that made her his family as well.
"Together," Isabel said with a smile.
She still dreamt of Alex that night.