--Disclaimer: Oh, come on. You don't really think that Michael, Maria and all the other characters from the Roswell books and show are mine, do you? They belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and the good folks at the WB network. I'm only borrowing them.
I also don't own the musical Little Shop of Horrors. It belongs to Alan Menken and the late Howard Ashman. Performance rights are available through Music Theatre International. Nor do I own the musical Oliver!, which belongs to Lionel Bart; I believe performance rights still go through Tams-Witmark Music Library, Inc.
I do own Mark, Melanie, Pamela, Debbie, Ms. Bedinger, and assorted other people who you don't recognize from the TV show.
--Distribution: Ask first, please.
--Author's Notes: I had never written anything before. Well, other than some checks and the occasional Christmas card. But I got an idea one day last summer while stuck at a job with nothing to do...Six months later, I finished what became a humungously long story, which has a sequel on the way.
So I guess you could say I had fun writing it.
This is an alternative Season Two story, so nothing that's been broadcast during this season applies. Michael's hair is still spiky. And his apartment is much smaller than Season Two would have us believe.
Special thanks to everyone at the Random Roswell Ramblings fanfiction board who gave me such great support and feedback, and to Emily and Kara for hosting the board in the first place; to Penny who listened to each new part as it came out and debated plot points over our cubicle divider; and to my sister who allowed me to 'entertain' her on both eight-hour legs of a Christmastime car trip by reading her the first two-thirds of the story (and who will no doubt be subjected to the sequel in bits and pieces, too. Sorry, sis.)
PROLOGUE
Killer.
Killer.
The word rages through his mind, never pausing. Incessant. Unstopping. He wakes with a sudden jerk, striving to escape the white-hot rage that surrounds him, pins him to the bed. He is awake, but the word is still there, pressing on him until he can hardly bear it.
In desperation he pulls himself inward, trying to flee the word, the thought, the idea. It chases through his mind, taunting him until he can endure no more. He doesn't notice the blood on his palms or in his mouth. His will pushes, pushes...and SNAP! The word fades down into a low murmur in the back of his brain, so low he can barely hear it, although he knows it's there. He lies, panting, afraid to open his eyes, concentrating on breathing in...out...in...out...until finally his eyes flicker open to face the dim shadows of the room.
He can no longer hear the word, but he knows it is still there.
Killer.
CHAPTER 1
"Why can't things be normal?" Maria DeLuca complained to her best friend Liz Parker, who smiled sympathetically as they walked down the hall of West Roswell High. "I mean, with everything we've been through lately, you'd think we'd be granted just one week of normal. Everyone gets a break sometime! Isn't it our turn?" she pouted.
Liz stopped by her locker and picked up her trig book as she thought over the grueling events of the previous spring and summer. "Maria," she said calmly, "things are pretty normal. At least normal to everyone else in Roswell. We go to school, we work at the Crashdown after school, and have the occasional Ben & Jerry bingefest...What's not normal about that?"
"C'mon, Lizzy. I don't mean boring normal--you know, pre-Czechoslovakian normal. I'd be perfectly happy with 'Being Questioned By The Sheriff And Chased By The FBI' normal." She took a moment to actually hear what she'd just said. "On second thought, maybe I'd even settle for a week of boring normal."
Liz studied Maria's face. "Is it Michael?"
"Oh, please. Not everything in my life is about Michael!" the blonde scoffed. "Just because he hasn't so much as spoken to me in three and a half months..." Her voice trailed off and she let out a heartfelt sigh. "Yeah, so maybe it is Michael," she admitted. "Fine. He has this ridiculous idea that he's dangerous, that I'm going to get hurt by being around him, so he completely avoids me. I can't shake him out of it. It's driving me crazy, but you know Mr. Stone Wall Guerin. After everything that's happened, the least he could do is..."
She stopped abruptly as she caught Liz's sympathetic glance. "Okay, you've only heard this rant about a million times already," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm just gonna sniff some cedar oil here, and calm down." She rummaged through her backpack for the oil, uncapped the tiny vial, and, breathing in, smiled shakily at Liz. "At least you and Max actually speak to each other."
"Maria, it's not you. Max says Michael's been avoiding everyone else, too," Liz began, but was interrupted by a friendly voice from across the hall.
"What's up, ladies?"
"Maria's having another spazzout, Alex," answered Liz, smiling.
"I am not spazzing out!" retorted Maria, giving Liz a friendly poke in the shoulder. "I am just trying to take my mind off things. You know, like be a normal teenager."
"A normal teenager, huh?" Alex Whitman smiled. "Well then, I have the perfect opportunity for you. Made to order for Roswell's biggest drama queen, in fact."
"Alex..." warned Liz.
"No, seriously, Maria. Have you checked out the bulletin board today?" the gangly teen asked.
"No. Why?"
"Then come with me," he said, pulling her by the arm back down the hallway the way he'd come. Liz followed silently in their wake, her brown eyes curious.
"What are you talking about, Alex?" Maria said as she was towed along. "And I am not a drama queen! I just, like, react fully to things, okay?"
Alex snickered as he stopped before the large bulletin board on the wall outside the principal's office. "React fully, huh? Well, react to this, DeLuca!"
"What?" Maria said, suspiciously eyeing a colorful poster tacked to the center of the board. "You want me to join the Latin Club? Please! I can barely stand English."
"No, Maria, it's perfect for you," Liz said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. "Look."
Liz pointed to an announcement pinned in the lower left-hand corner of the bulletin board. The headline read
The West Roswell High School Drama Club
announces auditions for its fall production of
LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS
Maria stared at the flier for a moment and then slowly looked up at Alex, who was grinning at her. She glanced over at Liz, then back at Alex, shaking her head, before suddenly bursting into laughter. "Okay, let me get this straight, Alex," she said, gasping for breath. "You know just how happy I am with a certain...Czechoslovakian...and now you want me to hang out with one on stage? Even if said Czechoslovakian is a giant man-eating plant from outer space--Are you trying to make me insane?"
"Hey, I'm just trying to tell you to go for it. You know, keep those vocal chords in shape until The Whits can get another gig. It'll put your singing ability to good use and keep you out of trouble at the same time," he said, straight-faced.
"But I haven't been in a play since the fifth grade...and besides, Snow White wasn't exactly high art," she protested. "And I am not in trouble! Although you will be if you're not careful, Mr. Whitman," she added, a smile reducing the effect of her threat.
Liz spoke up. "Maria, you wanted to do something normal. Well, this is normal. Why don't you try it? It might be fun."
The light left Maria's eyes as she stared down at the floor. "Look, Liz, this is nice and all, but I don't think it's for me. Don't you remember how much stage fright I had when I tried singing with The Whits? Besides, I have to work after school, anyway, so I don't think--"
"Don't think. Do. Just say yes!" quipped Alex. He looked at Liz, and raised one eyebrow. Liz's eyes narrowed slightly; then she gave a quick nod and turned to Maria.
"So we'll rearrange your work schedule so your shifts don't conflict with rehearsals. It just so happens that I know the boss. I'll talk to him tonight." Liz grinned mischievously at her friend.
"Now don't go jumping the gun here," Alex interrupted. "She has to audition first. Don't put the cart before the horse."
A small spark of indignation coursed through Maria. "What, you don't think I can do it?" she said, giving him a mock glare. "It was your idea in the first place!"
"Hey, don't go all Hurricane DeLuca with me," he replied, putting his hands out to shield himself from her wrath. "I break easily."
Maria glanced from friend to friend and then shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, guys, you're going to have to work harder than that if you think you're going to get away with this sort of thing." She gave them an innocent look. "What? You didn't think I'd notice the tag-team attempt to cheer me up?" She turned to look again at the announcement flier.
As two pairs of eyes met guiltily over her head, a wide smile slowly spread across Maria's face.
Maria swallowed one last time before looking out into the auditorium. Sure, she'd had stage fright before singing with Alex's band on the night of Liz's infamous blind date, but this felt even worse. The nausea and clammy hands were the same, but at least with the band, it was a bunch of them on stage. This was just her. Being watched. Judged. Her panicked eyes flickered out across the mostly empty seats in search of a familiar face, then settled on Liz, who nodded to her supportively.
After a full week of hints, mock threats and bribes from her so-called two best friends, Maria had finally agreed to give the audition a shot. Truth to tell, she was actually kind of excited about it--at least up until this afternoon, when suddenly the dry, dusty town of Roswell, New Mexico seemed to put out to sea. And seventeen years in the desert had definitely not made her into a sailor; the shaky legs and queasy stomach that came along with this nerve-induced seasickness were a sure sign of that. Wishing she had her cedar oil, she dragged her attention away from her churning stomach and dry mouth and tried to get her mind in order for this suddenly mindnumbing ordeal.
She'd chosen to sing 'As Long As He Needs Me' from the musical Oliver! for her audition piece. As a kid, she'd watched the movie over and over with her mom; it had been one of her favorites in the sixth grade. She wasn't sure what had caused her to think of the movie when she was hunting through some old sheet music books in search of an audition song, but was happy to find something that she could really put her heart into.
Of course, Nancy was only bludgeoned to death by the man she loved. She didn't have to deal with a too stubborn for his own good, follicly-challenged loner from another planet...No, she was not going there! Audition time. She had to sing. Okay. She could do this. She could do this. Okay. She just had to breathe...
Taking a shaky breath, she turned and nodded to Aaron Davis, who was playing the piano for the auditions. She had begged him a week earlier to make a tape of her song for her to practice with, and he had cheerfully agreed in return for the promise of a free Galaxy Melt and order of Saturn Rings at the Crashdown. Maria had practiced the song in her bedroom during every minute that was free from school or her waitress job. She'd even spent some time singing when she should have been doing homework, to the detriment of a French quiz grade.
As Aaron began the song's intro, she looked out and caught Liz's eye, then looked down the row. Although Liz and Alex, in a fit of guilty remorse, had agreed to come along to the audition for moral support, Maria was surprised and pleased to see Isabel Evans sitting next to Alex. Isabel smiled warmly at her, Alex gave her a double thumbs-up, and she began to sing.
"As long as he needs me
Oh, yes, he does need me
In spite of what you see
I'm sure that he needs me..."
Bill Sykes be damned, this could almost be about her and Michael. Thinking of the taciturn alien, she felt her nervousness melt away as her annoyance grew. Talk about being able to relate to a song. She loved a guy who couldn't, or wouldn't, give her what she wanted, what she needed. And yet that didn't change how she--or Nancy--felt.
Caught up in her thoughts, Maria came to the end of the song, not quite remembering getting there. She looked up, almost startled, and saw Liz, Alex and Isabel applauding wildly for her.
"Thank you, Maria," said Ms. Bedinger, the drama teacher. "Pamela Harris, you're next."
Maria climbed down the stairs that led to the stage, and went to sit next to Liz. "That was great, Maria!" Liz whispered in to her ear as Pamela started to sing 'I Feel Pretty'. "I wish I could stay for the rest of your audition, but I've got to get to the Crashdown. I'm on the dinner shift today."
"Thanks, Lizzy," Maria whispered back. "I'll give you a call tonight and let you know how the rest went."
Liz gave her a big hug and snuck quietly up the aisle as Maria, along with the other auditionees, climbed back onto the stage to read some scenes from the play.
An hour and a half later, a very tired Maria picked up her bookbag and walked to the back of the auditorium, where Alex and Isabel were now standing. Alex gave her a high five, saying, "Well, DeLuca, I expect to be fully acknowledged in your Oscar speech. Told you you could do it! Yessir, it was all my idea! Thank you, thank you, thank you." He took bows to an imaginary audience as Isabel shook her head at him.
"You were great, Maria. I had no idea you could sing like that--or act! You have a great shot at getting a part," the tall blonde said with a smile.
"Thanks, Isabel. Audrey will probably be played by a senior, like Pamela Harris. I'm just hoping to be one of the three doo-wop girls. It would be a lot of fun. Plus take my mind off...other things."
"Well, I think you were fantastic. I'm really impressed," Isabel told her.
Alex grinned, putting an arm around Maria. "Hey, you impressed Isabel, the Queen of Roswell High! Accomplishments like this do not happen every day, you know. Ladies, I believe a celebration is in order! What say we hit the Crashdown, my treat? Then you can give Liz the scoop."
Maria gave him a regretful smile. "Thanks, Alex, but I'd better get home. I've got some studying to do to make up for my last French quiz, or my mom will kill me."
"Isabel?" He turned to the other girl.
"No thanks, Alex. I've got some errands to run. But I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Isabel pulled the Jeep up next to the self-service pump at the Lift Off gas station, where Michael Guerin had worked all summer. Liz had kindly helped to rearrange his schedule so he had minimal shifts with Maria, but even so, he couldn't handle seeing her. He'd stayed at the café until Mr. Parker could find another cook, and then found both a full-time summer job stocking shelves at the local supermarket and this part-time job at the station.
His lamebrain plan to keep as busy as possible in the hope of not having time to think hadn't really worked, but at least he had some decent money coming in for a few months. Enough to keep him in Tabasco sauce and pay the rent, anyway. Now that school was back in session, he was down to just the part-time job.
Glancing around, Isabel frowned. Michael had been acting strangely all summer, but for the past few weeks, he had been weird. Well, even weirder than normal. Plus he'd been completely avoiding Max and her. Now she was determined to get to the bottom of things. Not that she didn't know what was wrong with him. Time to do something about it.
Isabel stopped the Jeep and honked the horn. A moment later Michael stepped out of the building and saw her.
"What, Iz, you can't even pump your own gas now?" he asked dispassionately.
"The Jeep needed a fill-up, so I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing," she replied, not at all affected by his tone...or lack thereof.
"Fine. I'm just fine." Michael put the nozzle into the Jeep's gas tank and began pumping unleaded.
"Max and I thought it might be good to get together over dinner for another planning session," she ventured.
His voice remained impassive as he put her off. "No can do, Iz. Gotta work late tonight."
Isabel looked at him suspiciously. He was acting strangely calm, not at all like the Michael she knew. Where was the tension, the pent-up energy that always filled him? She decided to push his buttons a little.
"Guess who auditioned for the fall musical this afternoon?" she asked. Her tone was nonchalant, but she watched Michael carefully. He didn't answer, just shrugged his shoulders as if he was totally uninterested in the subject--which in fact he was. Giving up on a stronger reaction from him, she finally burst out, "Maria."
"So?"
"She was good. Really good. Alex said she could sing, but wow!" Still getting no response, she went on, hotly, "I just thought you might be interested."
"Well, Isabel, you thought wrong."
"Oh, come on, Michael, I know you better than that. You care about her. You pretend not to, but we all know better. You've been closed off from her--from all of us--all summer. It's time you started..."
"What do you know about it? Nothing," he said dully, his eyes finally meeting hers. His voice rose slightly as he continued, "So just back off, Isabel. It's none of your business, anyway."
Pleased at getting a reaction of some sort, she shouted back. "It is my business! You're part of my family, and you're being a total idiot!" She stopped, hating how defeated he suddenly looked.
Michael closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said tonelessly, "Look, Iz, I need to get back to work. Just drop it, okay?"
He pulled the nozzle out of the tank, placed it back in its slot on the pump, and screwed on the gas cap. Isabel handed him a $20 bill, and he wordlessly handed back her change.
Climbing into the driver's seat, Isabel looked back at him, torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to pound some sense into his thick skull. "Thanks for pumping the gas," she finally said.
"Yeah."