A/N: As will later be explained in the chapters, the song choice for what's coming is vocal/ethnically-centered. If you've never heard of Schubert's "Ave Maria" or Enya's "Deora Ar Mo Chroi", then I strongly recommend them, especially before reading. Youtube, and a lot of other places (like your local store, hopefully) should have them next to the classics. :)

Also: The piece in Chapter Four is the largest bit of Fax I will probably write for this story. Believe me, it was much longer and very beautiful, but it took too much away from the plot, so I did away with it. Maybe I'll bring it back, some forty or more chapters in, though, depending on how it goes. There WILL be much more violence ahead, though, so the squeamish and those of poorer constitution have, again, been warned.

Nathan-P: (ALIENS! I won't spoil it! xD) I assumed 'ter Borcht' was a German variant and took a liberty that I'm relieved to find is accurate, at least with the fans (I really have no solid confirmation of his nationality.) And Reilly really doesn't get enough credit nor mention in the MR fandom :)

Sapphire17choco: Thank you :)

Chapter Six: Bigger Than You


Since it wasn't like we could say "no" and really do much about it, we were to be gone within the hour.

Mom argued that we at least spend the rest of the night at the Tiki-shack and leave in the morning - seeing as they'd intentionally, and rudely, ruined it for us, so we packed up the place and slept on the beach-towels, outside with the moon hanging over us like a giant night-light. (The romantic poetry is gone now. RUINED, I say, RUINED.)

I lay wide-awake, turning the ring over and over in my fingers. I'm not afraid of much of anything. The concept of a burning world has never been my priority so much as someone else's problem; I had kids to feed, to protect, and a life to survive. Didn't ask for much, never feared much. My greatest and only fear was losing my family.

They slept around me; Iggy, Gazzy, Nudge, all out and catching all the Z's they could before the next adventure. Fang had gone inside the shack, I guess to go blog on his computer and look up more stuff. Mom was on the Inertia, possibly gathering her forces for when we returned.

I wondered if it were fear I felt now, and came to the conclusion that no, it's just anticipation. Never one to "kick-back" anyway. And it might be fun to get back on the scene and fight something new. The ninjas were getting stale.

Then what was it that was eating me?

Sacramento Explodes..1200...Act of Terrorism or Act of God...Bird-Kids Responsible?

I mean, not like there was a force out there we couldn't handle.

These enemies...call me crazy, but it was like a deep instinct that there was something already wrong with all of this. They were something we shouldn't underestimate. What if - ?

"Hey," Ella whispered beside me. "Angel says you're thinking too loud again."

Oops. My bad. Sorry, sweetie. "Got a lot on my mind."

"Yeah, you still haven't told me about it..." Ella poked my wing playfully, and I realized she was talking about my last present. It's amazing, how I'd gone from worrying about my future to worrying about the world's so fast I hadn't noticed it, like the whole event had never happened; and now that she brought it up, the whole wonderful thing came back at once. I turned over to show her, lifting the chain into the light.

Her eyes widened, and she grinned brightly. "I helped him pick it out," she disclosed ecstatically. "And I'm guessing you said 'yes'?"

I thought back to it. "No."

"But - ?"

Grinned back. "My mouth was otherwise occupied...with his."

Ella barely concealed her squeal of delight.

"Oi!" Iggy hissed.

"Sorry," we whispered back, failing miserably in trying to suppress our laughter. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod!"

"I know, I know, shhhh, hehehe - "

"But did you, didn't you?"

"I think it counted as a yes. Well," and here I scowled, still smarting from the interruption of a perfect birthday and perfect sort-of proposal, "it would have been more official, if you-know-who hadn't shown up and destroyed the whole thing. Still, maybe it's better this way."

"How do you mean? I thought you loved him?"

"I do, don't get me wrong." Hah, DON'T get me wrong. "It's just, it looks like we're going back into 'fighting-for-the-human-race-thing all over again. I'm giving up any more chances at a long-sought vacation, it's never going to happen. This shit just ain't worth it anymore." Couldn't even have time to have nor hold a proper relationship. Every time I turned around, someone was beaming the Batman Search-light. Even actual celebrities had more time to chill than us.

Ella ruffled my choppy hair affectionately. "It'll happen some day. Karma will swing."

"Hmph," I grunted, turning my face into the crook of my arm. "Sure it will. All over these wannabe world-rulers and baddies. My official, real, REAL vacation will be coming out of the money they used to supply their Goon Workforce payroll and secret labs and air-fortresses and whatever else they got from the Marvel universe." We'd go in, knock 'em down, and come RIGHT back so I could finish out the rest of my rather girlish, but enjoyable, fantasy with my...fiance?

So that's what we'd be called. Had too weird of a ring to it, though. My fiance.

"You two," she snorted, knuckling me gently in the head. "Like Bonnie and Clyde. Cloak and Dagger. Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

"Heh, Ren and Stimpy," Iggy whispered next. Gazzy tittered. "Now shut up!"

(I chucked a convenient canteen at their heads. We'd see about this later.)

"Tch," I chuckled, eyelids heavy. "It's gonna have to wait. As per usual."

A comfortable silence settled, cushioned only by the sloshing sea and warm summer breeze.

After a while, Ella said softly, "Do you have a good feeling about this one?"

"Of course," I mumbled automatically.

"Just another mission, right." Though half-asleep, I got the notion that the same thing was on our minds. "What's the worst that could happen? Seriously, no jinxing, what IS the worst? We've beat everything. We're almost entirely home-free. Don't worry about it."

"Yeah."

I waited for more from her, but there was none, just eventual deep breathing. I didn't tell her about the tiniest corner nibbled in my confidence, that always came with fighting a new enemy. I thought it was nothing.

I hoped it was nothing, but I got what she meant.

The stars winked down on us. Maybe they weren't all stars. Maybe they were something else, something watching, something waiting. It was a possibility.

There was always the possibility that there was something out there bigger than us.


Pensacola, Florida

0400 hours.

Jeb played his fingers on the rail of the Wendy K., gazing out to sea. Not like there was a lot to see, at this time, but he was too lost in thought. CSM was here to help with the animal victims of the Oil Spill, working tirelessly for nights on end with the residents to rescue them from the syrupy, toxic shores. It was a shame. Eighteen years into this end of the project, and humans were still making a mess. Jeb never fully shared Max's views on humanity being saved as individuals - in fact, the sooner the plan went through, the fewer everyone would have to deal with.

He exhaled a draft of smoke.

It had taken a long time to earn her trust. Especially since that trust was earned almost entirely on lies. The lines between who was good and who wasn't were far too blurry to be cared about anymore, which was why he was here, consulting with the CSM and their fleet of overhauled disused whalers, listing on the tide and looking forward to another long, sticky, dangerous and aggravating day up to their knees in humanity's latest screw-up.

Times like these, he almost missed working back at the company, plotting the world's rescue with his fellow associates. The real scientists.

A passing marine-biologist passed him a mug. "Hey, Batchelder. It's a bit chilly tonight," he commented hopefully.

Jeb had barely heard him when he took it. "Yeah."

So much for conversation. The other man shrugged and sipped his tea at the other end of the rail, sensing and knowing a lost cause when he saw it.

Speaking of saving the world...Jeb's forehead creased. For once, he didn't know anything about the latest threat to the earth, at least, nothing useful. Whatever it was, it was a definite company screw-up, because it had been overlooked for some time before anyone noticed anything (like say, a building or four falling on them). But how could anyone have missed it? EVERYONE in the states had seen that broadcast, on every computer, every T.V. screen. It was a wonder they hadn't already gone to DEFCON 4.

Max.

There wasn't a day gone by he didn't think of her, and lately as less of a fighter and more of a ...person. He always had, sort of. She was his daughter. And he knew that was wrong, considering his dishonesty, his part to play. He wasn't supposed to get attached. They were all pawns and pieces. But maybe afterward, when this was all said and done, he could make it all up to her, properly. It had been two years since he'd stopped doing the Voice, since a mission in Alaska had lead her past a magnetic field that shorted out the chip in her head. She'd been doing all of this on will and strength-of-mind alone.

He flicked his cigarette butt away, and hoped it would be enough now, to ease off of pushing and guiding her in the right direction.

The mug rested in his hand, forgotten.

Sweetie, I -

The other scientist lifted his head. "Do you... do you hear something?"


"Sammy, come back here, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

"Stop this, it's not funny! Hey! Wake up!"

"What's happening, what's going on?"

"Why aren't you asleep? Mommy? Hey?"

"Ba dheas an la go oichei...

Na glortha binne I mo thaobh

'S aoibhneas I gachait gan gruaim

Athas are mo chroi go deo..."

First twenty, and then forty, and then eighty, and more, until the sands were crowded with them, all walking calmly to the shore. Wives and children and husbands tried in vain to stop their progress, but they pressed on relentlessly, still in their pajamas or swimsuits, eyes on the gently heaving sea. The desperate cries of their loved ones were drowned out in the lilting, foreign notes of the song, hovering above them as the stars, the moon, the sky itself.

"Please! Damn it, listen to me!"

"He-a-ro;

He-a-o-ro."

Score by score, they waded into the tide, following the voice. Men and women from their houses, their hotels, their resorts, from their boats. Children held their hands and wordlessly followed their families into the shallows, into the depths.

"What is wrong with you? Please, STOP! STOP THIS! Hannah!"

"Come back! Oh God, please!"

"Má shiúlaim ó na laethe beo

An ghrian 's an ghealach ar mo chúl

Níl uaim ach smaointe ó mo shaoil

Deora ar mo chroí go brón..."

"Ferring, what are you doing?" Jeb snapped, seizing the scientist's arm. The man had dropped his mug and climbed onto the rail, eyes blank. "Get down from there - Maria, Brigid, all of you, cover your ears! Do it, for God's sake - !"

Dr. Ferring, still pulling at his hand, slipped.

0500 Hours. The empty beach rang faintly with the last notes in the pre-dawn, lost to time amidst the hurting and mournful cries of the ones left behind, the sirens and city come to fish the lost remainder from the ocean.

"He-a-ro;

He-a-ro

He-a-o-ro."