By Didi
Disclaimer: Roswell does not belong to me or anything associated with me. Honestly, I'm not sure who owns the copyrights to the show at the moment. (I do know there are some weird juvenile novels under the same name and character ideas though.) Don't sue, I'm not making a profit off of this; hell, I'm not making any money period. I'll take the story off if it offends anyone.
Timeline: We want to know where we are? Well… so would I. This is an AU, live with it.
Ratings: R for restricted.
Chapter Summary: Dreams are had. Tess deals with family issues. Valenti gets an offer. Alex lends a hand.
Key: "Spoken" "Thoughts."
Author's Note:I've been happily watching the new show, "Lost," where the lovely and talented Emilie de Ravin has been playing the disgustingly pretty, cheerful, sweet, wonderful and pregnant Claire. (Honestly, how does anyone survive a plane crash and still look so angelically gorgeous?) If you haven't watched it, please do; it's a fantastic show all around. And if you're interested, her character gets showcased in a coming episode titled, "Raised By Another." It's supposed to be televised first week of December. Check your local listings for date, time and station.
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Chapter 38 – Little Surprises
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She lifted her face and felt the warmth of the sun. It felt marvelous. Lowering her chin, she saw the darkened clay figures on the ground, several rolls of symbols whose meaning was familiar but just beyond her conscious understanding. She moved among them, seeking answers to questions unasked; yet she knew they were important. Brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her face, she wondered briefly at the black dress she wore, like none she's seen before yet as with everything else seemed just a little too familiar.
The scene before her skipped and he was there; standing there just beyond the field of alien words silently watching her. The heat in his eyes shamed the blazing sun and she felt herself drowning in their unfathomable depth. He's never looked at her with such… such tenderness and possessiveness that made her burn. Then he held his hand out… reaching for her, urging her to him. He said not a word. He didn't need to.
Another skip and she was beside him, her hand in his, her eyes in his. It didn't feel strange, not even a little, when he reached up with his free hand and touched her face. The rough finger burned patterns into her smooth skin. She turned her face into his touch and reveled at the care he took. She's never felt so safe, so protected, so loved.
Lifting her face, she touched her lips against his and he pressed himself against her. It was gentle, soothing… natural. Like a weary traveler that sought comfort and belonging, she felt as if she's come home at last.
And as the sun rose above them, warming the earth with its rays of light, they made love on the bluffs that overlooked the land, each branding the other with their touch, their scent, their love. It was perfect dance of the souls; and neither one have ever known anything more beautiful.
She woke gasping, her heart pounding, her mouth dry. She's never known a more vivid dream. The darkened window announced the early morning time and she groaned. Throwing herself back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling with a sigh. "What the hell is happening to me?"
Across town, pulling the sweat soaked tee-shirt from his back, he pulled himself up and paced the length of the room. It was the third dream such as this in three nights and they were progressively more intimate… and more real in his mind, as if a lost memory pulling to the surface. But he's never known as such, never made love to her or even kissed… well, brushing caresses with the lips didn't count. And now all he could think about is holding her close, feeling her hands against his skin as they had been in the dream and… A cold shower was definitely in order now. Rubbing his face with frustration, "What the hell is wrong with me?"
-&-&-&-&-&-
Tess twisted the phone cord around her finger in agitation and turned to Maria with a pleading look. Her sister's responded with a firm shake of her head, her hands held up with her fingers creating a crucifix to ward off the evil and quickly backing out of the room. Tess leaned her head back and suppressed the urge to groan.
"And Tessie," Grandma Claire droned one, "I really do wish you would come and stay with us for at least the holiday. Maybe if you were to stay some time with us and see how beautiful Boston is when the snow is out and the…"
It was the same story every year for the past three years.
"Gamma," Tess sighed and dropped her head in defeat. "You know that we cannot afford for the three of us to fly to Boston for the holidays."
"Oh but honey, I was thinking that perhaps you would like to…"
"I'm not spending the holidays away from Mom and Maria," Tess replied firmly. This was yet another contention that she's never been able to rectify with her grandmother. Why her grandmother could never seem to accept her mother and sister into the family was quite beyond her comprehension. And unlike other members of the family, none of whom she bothered to communicate with, her grandmother wasn't even discreet about her disapproval.
But arguing with her grandmother was never a task Tess found fruitful; the woman was even more stubborn that Maria. "I sent you a scarf that I made myself. Did you get it, Gamma?"
"Oh yes, darling, I got it in the mail yesterday. It is lovely, beyond lovely in fact; I'm the envy of my friends. Your father always said that you were such a talented little angel."
"Thank you, Gamma."
"Now darling, are you sure you won't rather send the holidays with me and your grandfather; your cousin Emma and Dylan and Geoffrey and Richard are coming this year. I can send you a plane ticket and…"
"No, Gamma," Tess sighed and wished, not for the first time, that her father was still around. "I'm perfectly happy here."
"But you can have so much more opportunities here and we are…"
"Gamma, please," Tess begged with a frown as she rubbed her forehead. This was not how she wanted to spend her Saturday, especially after spending three hours at two in the morning calming her mother down with a lie. "Let's not do this again."
There a long pause and then a sigh. "I knew I should have taken you with us after the funeral," Claire murmured with resignation. "You were such a little thing and…"
"Gamma, I was thirteen," Tess pointed out with a little irritation now. "I wouldn't have gone with you even if you had asked me."
There was another sigh. "You always were your father's daughter; loyal to the point of foolishness. Alright darling, have it your way."
"Thank you."
"But we will see you this summer won't we? It seems like forever since we've seen you."
Tess hesitated It's been exactly three summers now that she's not gone back East as were tradition while her father was still around. But money had been tight and plane tickets in the summer were too great a luxury for the little household to swallow. But it has been a long time and no matter what, she did love her grandparents. "We'll see, Gamma."
"Good," there was more determination then disappointment in Claire Harding's voice. "Have a good Christmas then, my darling. And look for my package in the mail."
"I will. I love you," Tess said before hanging up the phone with some relief and great deal of sadness.
"Is the old battle ax still trying to steal you away from us?" Maria asked from the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and her face conveying her thoughts only too well.
Tess didn't know how to respond without lying outright.
"Forget it Tessie," Maria replied with a shake of her head reading the correct answer in her sister's face. "To her, you will always been god's given angel, as is the truth, and me and Mom will always been the harlots that stole Dad's chances of nabbing some loaded snobby debutante back east." She's heard the whispered comment enough times to understand it to be the truth in their mind.
"Stop that," Tess snapped, her patience worn thin by the biannual conversation with her grandmother.
Maria nodded her head soberly, knowing she was putting Tess in an impossible position. "I'm sorry."
"No, I am," Tess forced herself to calm down. "I'm sorry Gamma is so… so…" no nice words came to mind.
"Bitchy?" was the volunteered not-so-nice word.
Caught between horror and amusement, "Maria…"
"Alright, alright, she's your grandmother and you love her." Maria held her hands up.
"She's your grandmother too."
"No according to her," Maria rolled of her eyes to hide the fact that despite all these years, it still hurt that Claire Harding couldn't accept her.
Tess shook her head. "If she's too blind to see the wonderful person you are then it's her lost. And I don't need her to remind me how lucky and blessed I am."
Maria smiled at her sister's loyalty and decided that 'tis not the season to be all gloomy. With a deep breath, she rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Ready to get cracking on that stuff?" pointing to the table of materials for their next big project.
Nodding her head, Tess squared her shoulders and put her grandmother's prejudices behind her. "Let's."
-&-&-&-&-&-
"Dad?" Kyle was out of his seat and to the door before Jim could even remove his hat. "What happened to you? Where were you last night?"
Looking up, Jim ignored Kyle's concerns for a moment and saw Michael rise slowly from the dinning room table. The boy was eyeing him with a mixture of concern and caution. Turning to Kyle, he offered his son a weak smile. "I was working late."
Dark brows furrowed for a moment, then smoothed as he turned and looked at Michael then back at his father again. Nodding his acceptance, Kyle went to the coffee pot to pour out a mug that he knew his father needed. When Michael had arrived early in the morning, Kyle had said nothing. When Michael had crashed on the couch and mumbled something about Alex and his stupid car, Kyle had said nothing. When Michael had asked about Kyle's father being around or not, Kyle had said nothing. And now this… "You want breakfast, Dad?"
"No thanks, son," Jim sat down across the table from Michael, watching silently as the teen returned his stare with equal intensity. "How did you two spend the night?"
Kyle sat down between the two men, at the head of the table, and sat down the steaming mug. "Oh, I studied for my Spanish test."
Taking a sip and feeling the heat go down to his toes, Jim nodded his head slowly and watched Michael's eyes. "And you, Michael?"
Without wavering, Michael replied, "I went out with friends."
"Which friends?" Jim asked.
"Max," since it was the most plausible.
Jim's brows raised in a very patronizing fatherly manner. "And?
The story Liz had drilled him on last evening, in the long ride home, popped into mind. It was on the tip of his tongue to make a acidy remark but he's already in hot waters with the gang, best to tow the line for now. "Alex and Isabel and the Harding girls and the saint of Roswell High were also there."
A little thrown by the honesty, Jim missed a beat and had to clear his throat to reassess his game plan. "Why didn't you leave a note?"
Mindful of the strange lecture he got from Liz Parker, "Didn't know I had to."
"You don't think it's good manner to tell the people in the same house where you'd be so they don't worry?" Jim's brow came down and Kyle scooted his chair back.
"No one ever has," Michael said matter-of-fact with a shrug and picked up his dishes.
All the air in the sheriff's lung left in a whoosh. It was like getting punched in the guts.
Kyle reached over and gripped his father's arm. When he got the attention he wanted, he mouthed, "Two in the morning."
Nodding his appreciation for the information, Jim patted Kyle's arm and got up to follow Michael into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the tall gangly teen wash the dishes with appalling efficiency, "Like he's done it a million times before."
"Is there something else?" Michael asked in such a neutral tone that Valenti's internal alarms went off.
"Michael, you can't just take off without telling me where you are and what you're doing. I'm responsible for you right now."
"I am responsible for me," Michael replied perfectly calm and steady as he turned and stared at the Sheriff. "This is just temporary."
"Be as it may, I'm still responsible for your well being. I became responsible when I said I'd look after you."
A dark look passed over the teen's face. "I don't need anyone to look after me. I'm pretty good at taking care of myself."
"I know," Valenti sighed and wished he could communicate without the boy without making him so defensive. "But it doesn't mean you have to when you don't have to."
Michael smirked. "If you don't do it yourself, no one else will."
Jim frowned, his concern clearly written. There was just simply no winning with this kid. And frankly, Jim was at a lost as to how to get through. He needed to get through to Michael, to get the kid to trust him; if for nothing else but to relieve the mysteries that plagued his mind. Especially after the encounter last night…
"What do you want?"
"A little help," Topolski replied calmly as she pulled the chair over and sat down in it. "And maybe in turn, I can help you."
Sitting up a little straighter, using the all to keep himself from toppling over as the room continue to seesaw every time he attempted to concentrate, Jim sighed. "You try to break my head and now you want me to do you a favor?"
Topoloski smiled her perfect lips curling rather attractively as she leaned forward to look at the small wound. "Don't be melodramatic; it was a light tap on the back of your neck where all the nerves are clustered. It would have brought down the Hulk."
He didn't answer her, only rubbed the back of his neck lightly. "What do you want?"
"Michael Guerin."
To his credit, Jim didn't blink. "For?"
"My boss has a vast interest in the boy."
"And your boss would be?"
"They're the good guys."
"In whose opinion?"
Topolski smiled again, as if impressed by Valenti's show of defiance. Jim stiffened as she reached behind her and flipped open a thin back wallet with a practiced hand. Cocking her head to one side, she waited until recognition set into the sheriff's eyes.
"FBI? What does the Feds want to with a kid that's been through hell and back already?"
She had a grace to look slightly discomforted by that description. "Word travels fast when the usual happens." She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of a certain shooting at a café not too long ago?"
School his features carefully, Valenti nodded.
"You're not the only one that found the stories given just a little bit off its mark."
"So?"
"Tell me something, Sheriff. When was the last time you saw a guy get his face shattered by a mere fist?"
A question Jim's been asking himself over and over again. "What are you getting at?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly as thoughts marched merrily along in her mind. "You know that Michael Guerin is… 'different.' You know that he's not exactly like us… the rest of us. Why are you protecting him?"
"Why are you so sure he's so 'different?'" Valenti stood slowly, feeling his way around the fact that he's got a monster headache settling in.
She continued to watch him, not moving a muscle, showing him that she wasn't afraid of the fact that he was now standing and she was not. "We're only here to do our jobs, Sheriff. I protect same as you."
"I don't hid among supposed allies and hit people over the head."
"I do what is necessary. You were coming too close and…"
"Too close to what?"
There was a pause as she considered her answers. Reaching over, she lifted a bound book on the desk behind her. "You should try reading more, it helps to relax you and broaden the mind."
He glanced down at the title, Among Us. "Is this a joke?"
"No joke." She finally stood and placed the chair back where it belonged. "Think about what I've said. Michael Guerin can be a threat or an asset, depending on who gets to him first. And…" she smiled again, her knowing eyes darkened with promise. "In return, I'll help you find with those cases that ended your father's career."
That startled him. "What?"
Topolski simply smiled as she sailed out the door. "I think you know which cases I'm talking about Sheriff. Thank about my offer."
This was all Jim needed in his life right now. Six weeks ago, he would have jumped at the officer made by the beautiful FBI agent. But now… now he's watching Michael Guerin hand-wash dishes, the cuts across his face only just healed from a beating that might have broken a lesser man, and eyes that were too ancient for such a youth.
When did his life before so complicated?
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Michael closed his locker and watched as Max passed by. He had attempted to speak with his friend earlier that day but apparently, Max was determined to be anger at him and there was nothing to be done but wait it out. It was already all over the school that there had been a fall-out between the Dark Prince and his Black Knight; he's also heard the three thousand different reasons for the fall-out but only cared that none of it came near the truth. Michael didn't know what to say to make things right, because sometime between the car ride and last night's restless sleep, he did realize that he had been too impulsive and could have potentially brought disaster upon them.
"Hey," Alex muttered quietly as he pretended to attempt to open a locker next to Michael's. "Words around that you and Max aren't talking."
"He isn't talking to me," Michael replied with a sigh. "I tried before school to talk to him."
"He'll come around," Alex replied turning the combination lock once more. "Listen, I think I found something."
"What do you mean?" thinking of the two artifacts he relieved the geo-dome of last night. He hadn't even had a chance to show them to Max.
"I did a little online research on your geo-dome and found about a little about the guy that built it. The guy's name is James Atherton, a genius or a kook depending on who you ask. He disappeared in 1959 after self publishing a book call, Among Us. I'm trying to locate a copy of the book for you but it may take a little time."
Michael stared for a moment, not sure what to say. "Thanks. I appreciated."
"No problem," he looked down the hall and noted that several students were looking their way suspiciously. "I better get going. I'll keep you updated as to what I find." He turned to leave.
"Hey," Michael reached out and grabbed Alex's arm, turning him back. Ignoring several students that backed quickly away probably in fear of getting caught in the middle of a fight, Michael took Alex's hand and shook it. "I mean it, thank you." He leaned a little closer to ask in an undertone, "Can you find out more about this?"
Alex closed his hand on the warm piece Michael had pressed into his palm. Without looking at what was in his hand, Alex nodded in answer to the question. "You're welcome. See you later."
Michael nodded. "See ya," and walked away without seeing the sea of astonished faces that followed him.
Suppressing the urge to grin at the speculative looks among his fellow students, Alex stuck his hand into his pocket and made his way to Spanish class. It was turning out to be a better day than he thought it could be.
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Jim locked the door to his office before returning to his desk. Closing the blinds and checking his office for a moment, he sat down and pulled his "Silver Handprint" files out. Shuffling through the case files, he pulled out the three John Doe folders and spread them open across his desk carefully so not to obscure any of the photos within the files.
Reaching under his desk into his scratched and worn leather brief case he carried to the office every morning, the sheriff pulled the hard bound book Topolski had handed him the night before. Studying the glossing book jacket for a moment, tracing the embossed title with his finger, he flipped the book over and studied the handsome face on the back. The author must have been maybe thirty when the picture of taken, young and full of enthusiasm for the future.
When Jim had finally committed the face to memory, he pushed the book aside and picked up each John Doe picture in his files. It didn't take long; it was the first one he reached for in fact.
Picking up a thick felt pen, Jim pulled the file to him and crossed "John Doe" out on the top of the file. Underneath it, in careful all caps lettering, Sheriff Valenti wrote out the name: JAMES ATHERTON.
To be continued…
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Extra Note: I purposely excluded names in the beginning dream sequence. It could be applied to either destiny's couples.