Author's Notes: I have not slept in twenty-four hours. I totally blame Silverbee
for this, and I'd like to now throw in Steph as well. Silverbee gave me
an idea and Steph came up with a better explanation for the title of "Three Card
Monte" than I had in mind. So even though I'm yawning after every word and
despite the fact that my dad is picking me up tomorrow morning to take me
home, I'm gamely trying to finish this fic. You will probably need to read
"Russian Roulette" and "Three Card Monte" for this to make any sense.
"Bustin' Blackjack"
She dreamed of him often, since the accident that had stole him from
her, but none of the dreams had been as vivid as those first three nights
she cried herself to sleep. Isabel knew this dream was like those special
dreams. He looked different, gaunt, like he lost weight. When she reached
out to touch him, he flinched away and shards of hurt slid into her soul.
He smiled then, reassuringly, and caressed her face with his fingers.
His arms opened for her and she slid against his chest, reveling in
the sound of his heartbeat pounding in her ears. He held her there for
long moments before he gently pushed her back. He spoke to her then,
warning her of the Skins' plot and the Imposter in their midst. Isabel
looked at him, confused. They already knew all this. Why was he wasting
their time together with repetitive drivel?
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement behind him and she pushed
him aside, instinctively guarding him from the threat. He chuckled lightly
and brushed past her, speaking softly to the figure cloaked in the shadows.
She felt unreasonably jealous of that mysterious figure, since they rated
the sweetness in his tone. He and the figure seemed to argue a bit and the
dream wavered for a moment. He turned back to Isabel, a frantic look on his face.
His hands cupped her cheeks gently and she wrapped her own fingers around
his palms. He searched her face, his eyes piercing as if trying to sear
her features onto his memory. He spoke again, hurried, emotional fragments.
Isabel was confused. None of her previous dreams had this much urgency.
Operating on instinct, she firmly grasped his face and kissed him deeply.
His mouth was wet and hot, his tongue swirling around hers. Her hands
slid down from his face to his chest and she could feel his heartbeat
against her palm. Then there was a frantic motion from the shadowed
figure and he stepped back, hands still reaching for her, as the dream
faded, and then she knew.
Isabel was off the bed nearly before she woke up. Slipping into Max's
room, she gave her brother a heart attack as she shook him awake, telling him
in frantic hushed whispers what she'd learned. He started to climb out of
bed, but she pressed him back, telling him he had to cover for her. She'd
take Michael. She dashed back to her room, pulling on street clothes.
Taking the time only to pull her hair back into a loose ponytail, she was
grateful for the training she'd been putting in as she streaked down the
interlocking streets, heading for Michael's.
The hands of fate seemed to be guiding them then, as Amy DeLuca had
gone out of town, leaving her daughter free to spend the night with her boyfriend.
Maria had handled Michael, cutting off his questions and bundling him into
the backseat as Isabel took shotgun. She didn't know where he was exactly, but
now, with the taste of him still in her mouth, she could feel the slight
tug where his soul called hers. She had the horrible sense of impending change
and she could only pray that she would get there in time to save him.
Michael sat in the backseat, not moving from the spot where his
girlfriend had tucked him. Maria had been acting odd lately, her grief over
the loss of Alex transforming into a rock solid will. He hadn't thought
it was possible for him to worry about her even more, but it was like
a living thing now, pulsing in his chest with every breath. Isabel was
like a wraith half the time now, fading into the dark, abandoning the light
now that Alex was gone. He saw what was happening and it frightened him because
he knew that he would be the same way, maybe even worse, if anything ever
happened to Maria.
Maria drove like a prep with her learner's permit- unsure of what she
was doing, but not giving a damn if she wrecked the car. Michael doublechecked
his seatbelt unconsciously. He wouldn't do anyone any good if he was face first
on the pavement, a halo of shattered glass around his head. Isabel had Maria
cutting through the desert. Faintly against the horizon, backlit against the
rosiness of the rising sun, was a small settlement of buildings.
The blonde alien had just pointed out their destination triumphantly
when a sudden explosion rocked through the air, causing Isabel to cry out. As
Maria drew closer, they could hear muffled shouts in the air, the alarming
hiss of a well-fed fire, tinier explosions that rocked the ground
beneath them, as they drew closer to the battleground. Maria drove as
close as she dared to get and then pulled over.
Exchanging a brief look with Maria, Isabel unclipped her seatbelt and
climbed out of the car. Maria shot Michael a pointed look and he found himself
sliding off the suede seat, wondering what the *hell* had gotten into her. Before
he could warn Maria to be careful, Isabel took off, weaving her way across the
shifting sands. Torn between duty and love, he stood struggling until Maria thwapped
him on the arm and told him to get going. Flashing her a brief smirk, he trotted
after Isabel.
His sister took a circular route, avoiding most of the disturbances. When he
finally caught up with her, she was jittering on her heels, waiting impatiently for
him to blow open a door. Figuring one more explosion wouldn't hurt, he did so and then
cursed when she darted past him into the smokey hallway. Michael kept his eyes
locked on her liquid honey hair, the only part of her that he could see in the dim
light. Michael was hopelessly disoriented when Isabel finally skidded to a stop.
It was straight out of her dreams. He was standing there before her and she
could barely breath. Isabel reached out to him and he snarled at her. Startled,
her eyes widened and she backed away. His eyes darted over her shoulder and when they
landed on Michael, he began to retreat, clutching the slight figure in his arms
possessively.
Perhaps dating Maria did him some good, because it was Michael
who figured out the problem. He whispered into Isabel's ear, causing her to nod.
She started telling the wary boy before them about the dreams they shared, about
the promises they had made to each other. Finally, the hardness in his eyes
began to soften and he stepped forward, jerking his head to indicate that they
should get going.
They didn't make it to the exit undetected as he was limping from a bloody
gash on his hip and he refused to relinquish the bundle he held. Michael was
forced to eliminate six Skin soldiers before they managed to retrace their steps.
The ragtag bunch burst into the crisp morning air, the rays of the sun just lightly
kissing the Earth. Maria had the doors to the Jetta open the minute she saw their
approach and gunned the engine. They more fell into the car than climbed in and the
moment all the doors were shut, she peeled away, leaving clouds of red dust in
her wake.
Twisting around in her seat, Isabel turned her head to make sure that this
wasn't another dream, that he was really there. His hair was longer than she remembered,
falling shaggily over his eyes. His eyes were closed now, his head resting against
the seat. Maria quietly commented that it was probably the first real chance he had
to sleep in a month, heading off Isabel's panic attack. It was Michael, peering
carefully at the bloodcaked face of the girl Alex held, who figured out her
identity. The Jetta swerved slightly when Michael made the prouncement. Their
family was whole again. Alex and Tess were going home.
for this, and I'd like to now throw in Steph as well. Silverbee gave me
an idea and Steph came up with a better explanation for the title of "Three Card
Monte" than I had in mind. So even though I'm yawning after every word and
despite the fact that my dad is picking me up tomorrow morning to take me
home, I'm gamely trying to finish this fic. You will probably need to read
"Russian Roulette" and "Three Card Monte" for this to make any sense.
"Bustin' Blackjack"
She dreamed of him often, since the accident that had stole him from
her, but none of the dreams had been as vivid as those first three nights
she cried herself to sleep. Isabel knew this dream was like those special
dreams. He looked different, gaunt, like he lost weight. When she reached
out to touch him, he flinched away and shards of hurt slid into her soul.
He smiled then, reassuringly, and caressed her face with his fingers.
His arms opened for her and she slid against his chest, reveling in
the sound of his heartbeat pounding in her ears. He held her there for
long moments before he gently pushed her back. He spoke to her then,
warning her of the Skins' plot and the Imposter in their midst. Isabel
looked at him, confused. They already knew all this. Why was he wasting
their time together with repetitive drivel?
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement behind him and she pushed
him aside, instinctively guarding him from the threat. He chuckled lightly
and brushed past her, speaking softly to the figure cloaked in the shadows.
She felt unreasonably jealous of that mysterious figure, since they rated
the sweetness in his tone. He and the figure seemed to argue a bit and the
dream wavered for a moment. He turned back to Isabel, a frantic look on his face.
His hands cupped her cheeks gently and she wrapped her own fingers around
his palms. He searched her face, his eyes piercing as if trying to sear
her features onto his memory. He spoke again, hurried, emotional fragments.
Isabel was confused. None of her previous dreams had this much urgency.
Operating on instinct, she firmly grasped his face and kissed him deeply.
His mouth was wet and hot, his tongue swirling around hers. Her hands
slid down from his face to his chest and she could feel his heartbeat
against her palm. Then there was a frantic motion from the shadowed
figure and he stepped back, hands still reaching for her, as the dream
faded, and then she knew.
Isabel was off the bed nearly before she woke up. Slipping into Max's
room, she gave her brother a heart attack as she shook him awake, telling him
in frantic hushed whispers what she'd learned. He started to climb out of
bed, but she pressed him back, telling him he had to cover for her. She'd
take Michael. She dashed back to her room, pulling on street clothes.
Taking the time only to pull her hair back into a loose ponytail, she was
grateful for the training she'd been putting in as she streaked down the
interlocking streets, heading for Michael's.
The hands of fate seemed to be guiding them then, as Amy DeLuca had
gone out of town, leaving her daughter free to spend the night with her boyfriend.
Maria had handled Michael, cutting off his questions and bundling him into
the backseat as Isabel took shotgun. She didn't know where he was exactly, but
now, with the taste of him still in her mouth, she could feel the slight
tug where his soul called hers. She had the horrible sense of impending change
and she could only pray that she would get there in time to save him.
Michael sat in the backseat, not moving from the spot where his
girlfriend had tucked him. Maria had been acting odd lately, her grief over
the loss of Alex transforming into a rock solid will. He hadn't thought
it was possible for him to worry about her even more, but it was like
a living thing now, pulsing in his chest with every breath. Isabel was
like a wraith half the time now, fading into the dark, abandoning the light
now that Alex was gone. He saw what was happening and it frightened him because
he knew that he would be the same way, maybe even worse, if anything ever
happened to Maria.
Maria drove like a prep with her learner's permit- unsure of what she
was doing, but not giving a damn if she wrecked the car. Michael doublechecked
his seatbelt unconsciously. He wouldn't do anyone any good if he was face first
on the pavement, a halo of shattered glass around his head. Isabel had Maria
cutting through the desert. Faintly against the horizon, backlit against the
rosiness of the rising sun, was a small settlement of buildings.
The blonde alien had just pointed out their destination triumphantly
when a sudden explosion rocked through the air, causing Isabel to cry out. As
Maria drew closer, they could hear muffled shouts in the air, the alarming
hiss of a well-fed fire, tinier explosions that rocked the ground
beneath them, as they drew closer to the battleground. Maria drove as
close as she dared to get and then pulled over.
Exchanging a brief look with Maria, Isabel unclipped her seatbelt and
climbed out of the car. Maria shot Michael a pointed look and he found himself
sliding off the suede seat, wondering what the *hell* had gotten into her. Before
he could warn Maria to be careful, Isabel took off, weaving her way across the
shifting sands. Torn between duty and love, he stood struggling until Maria thwapped
him on the arm and told him to get going. Flashing her a brief smirk, he trotted
after Isabel.
His sister took a circular route, avoiding most of the disturbances. When he
finally caught up with her, she was jittering on her heels, waiting impatiently for
him to blow open a door. Figuring one more explosion wouldn't hurt, he did so and then
cursed when she darted past him into the smokey hallway. Michael kept his eyes
locked on her liquid honey hair, the only part of her that he could see in the dim
light. Michael was hopelessly disoriented when Isabel finally skidded to a stop.
It was straight out of her dreams. He was standing there before her and she
could barely breath. Isabel reached out to him and he snarled at her. Startled,
her eyes widened and she backed away. His eyes darted over her shoulder and when they
landed on Michael, he began to retreat, clutching the slight figure in his arms
possessively.
Perhaps dating Maria did him some good, because it was Michael
who figured out the problem. He whispered into Isabel's ear, causing her to nod.
She started telling the wary boy before them about the dreams they shared, about
the promises they had made to each other. Finally, the hardness in his eyes
began to soften and he stepped forward, jerking his head to indicate that they
should get going.
They didn't make it to the exit undetected as he was limping from a bloody
gash on his hip and he refused to relinquish the bundle he held. Michael was
forced to eliminate six Skin soldiers before they managed to retrace their steps.
The ragtag bunch burst into the crisp morning air, the rays of the sun just lightly
kissing the Earth. Maria had the doors to the Jetta open the minute she saw their
approach and gunned the engine. They more fell into the car than climbed in and the
moment all the doors were shut, she peeled away, leaving clouds of red dust in
her wake.
Twisting around in her seat, Isabel turned her head to make sure that this
wasn't another dream, that he was really there. His hair was longer than she remembered,
falling shaggily over his eyes. His eyes were closed now, his head resting against
the seat. Maria quietly commented that it was probably the first real chance he had
to sleep in a month, heading off Isabel's panic attack. It was Michael, peering
carefully at the bloodcaked face of the girl Alex held, who figured out her
identity. The Jetta swerved slightly when Michael made the prouncement. Their
family was whole again. Alex and Tess were going home.