Mary
by
Disclaimer: I don't claim. Talk to Jason Katims, UPN, WB, etc. Alanis Morissette's song obviously isn't mine.
Summary: When the aliens receive news that a little girl, who hasn't yet been born, will save the earth, what must they do?
Author's Note: If you read my stuff, you know that I have a thing with Isabel sleeping on Alex's grave. I'll try to stop, I swear.
Rating: By chapter.
CHAPTER TWO--PG-13
Kyle
The only thing I can think of right now is, 'Man, I'm glad my dad won't be this pissed'.
'Course, he still has to pretend to be, for the Evans' sake, and that won't be pretty, either, I'm sure.
Isabel throws a quick glance over her shoulder when her parents aren't looking, and I see Max move quickly from the doorway to the kitchen. Great. The alien king is looking in on us, seeing how good a job of acting we do.
I said earlier that I didn't mind doing this. And I don't. For Isabel. For Max, that's another story. Max would be alone out in the rain, without my help, if it weren't for his beautiful, kind-hearted, smart-mouthed, all-around wonderful sister.
Diane Evans is kind of looking shocked, and Max and Isabel's father is livid. I really hope this doesn't turn out as bad as I think it might. Isabel has a hard enough time with her family life. I might not understand this alien thing, but I understand what it's like not to be able to tell your parents something.
Doesn't every teenager?
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Asks Phil Evans. I'll give the man credit, he didn't go on with the usual parental spiel of "How did this happen?" (To which the proper answer is, "Didn't they teach you about the birds and bees in school?"), and "I can't believe you were so irresponsible!" (To which you either hang your head, or explain why you weren't irresponsible, and it wasn't your fault that the condom broke, etc.)
Don't get me wrong, I don't have any experience in this matter, at least not personally, but I know a lot of people in school, and most people know me, and lots of people come to me with their problems. Like I can fix them with a wave of my hand, just because I'm a hot-shot football player. (So, so many times I've wanted to blurt out that that's Max and Isabel's department.)
"We're going to keep it," Isabel tells her father forcefully. Diane Evans looks like she's slowly returning to the land of the living, and I don't know whether to be grateful for her possible intervention, or afraid for my life, now that there are two of them.
"How are you going to raise it? You don't even have a job, Isabel! And what about college?"
Forget what I said about respecting him for not going on a spiel.
"Whoa, one question at a time, Dad." Isabel looks to me, obviously not really sure what to say about the money issues. Let's just say that it isn't really an issue, another perk of being an alien.
"I have a job, Mr. Evans. And Isabel will go to college. You have my word."
"Well, that's not worth a hell of a lot right now, is it?" He spits out.
This really bites.
"Dad!" I can't believe Isabel Evans is sticking up for lowly me. My life might be complete. No, that's right, I'm Kyle Valenti, not Alex Whitman. But I must admit, I'm really beginning to understand what came over him when he puppy-dogged after her for forever.
"No, Iz, it's okay. I know he must not have a real high opinion of me right now, and I understand.
"But, Mr. and Mrs. Evans, I love your daughter." I don't miss the little light-up in Isabel's eyes, followed by a crash, perhaps remembering Alex. I wish this charade didn't have to bring her so much pain.
"And I don't want to bring anything bad to her. We'll figure this out, I promise. Isabel will go to college, and we will raise this child in a comfortable life-style. He or she won't be raised in poverty, I promise."
"How can you promise that? You don't know what the future will bring! Obviously, since you wouldn't have slept with my daughter if you had!"
God, I wish I had. Slept with his daughter, that is.
"My father can get me a job on the force that'll pay well enough, if I don't find something else. Isabel graduates early, she has a year, or even two before she has to go to college. She won't be any older than the rest of them. And if all else fails, I promise we'll put this child up for adoption. We only want what's best for it."
That last part was a lie, by the way. The adoption part. But I needed to reassure the Evans' somehow.
Max is still skulking the doorway, a bowl of cereal in one hand, and Mrs. Evans finally notices him. "Max?" She asks. "What are you doing up?"
Max shrugs. "I don't know. Hungry, I guess."
She gives him a tense smile. "Boys will be boys," She tells her husband, who barely acknowledges her. "Go back to bed, Max. We're talking with your sister, and her boyfriend."
Max nods, and heads for the stairs, eating as he goes. I, for one, am grateful we're rid of our little eavesdropper. I dislike the guy enough, I don't need him listening in on this particular discussion, even if he did orchestrate it.
Mr. Evans returns his attention to me. "Have you told your father yet?" He asks.
I really hate this.
Isabel
Sheriff Valenti is really way too good an actor.
"How could you let this happen, Kyle? I mean, I remember being seventeen, I expected you'd do some experimenting, but I thought you were responsible enough to be careful about it!"
"We were careful about 'it', Dad."Kyle and Max had orchestrated this whole deal, and simply briefed me as quickly as possible. I'm supposed to just go along, as best as I can, with whatever they say. I can only be grateful for this idea of Max's, I don't need the rep as a complete slut at school to go along with all the rest of my problems.
"Not careful enough, apparently!"
I know I must be throwing off waves of anxiety, which the adults probably think nothing of, knowing that I'm in a difficult position, to say the least, but Kyle seems to sense them, and knows that they aren't about our current situation. He glances at me, and I can see the pain he feels, the sympathy for my pain, reflected in his eyes.
"It isn't our fault the damn condom broke, Dad!" He's really angry now, channeling his sympathy for my hurt into anger. I admire his capabilities as an actor, and am equally surprised to see that he picked up on how I was feeling at all. Max wouldn't have, not that fast, anyway.
I'm not completely ignorant. I know Kyle has a 'thing' for me, as Maria puts it. He feels something for me, I know, but stops it at friendship and protection, some things that I can't really be anything but grateful for right now.
And I can't deny that I feel something for him, too. Maybe someday, maybe one day, I'll be healed enough to let another into my heart. But I can feel, it won't be soon.
The conversation goes on around me as I retreat into my head, but I take little note. The sheriff and Kyle's voices escalate, their pretend fight heating with real anger and anxiety and nervous tension, and I know they're putting on a more than believable show for my parents, who are silent spectators from the kitchen doorway. I note silently to myself that they are now lurking much the same way as I know my brother was earlier, on their version of the conversation.
Finally, Max intervenes, and Kyle and the sheriff calm reluctantly, looking vaguely suspicious for having let their act get so out of hand, but still, I barely register they're arranging for this to continue the next day, after everyone's had a chance to think. I go willingly with my brother out the door, and into the family car.
Halfway home, I realize that I don't want to go there. I've seen, heard, smelled enough of that cramped little space to last me a lifetime, and all I want is out. "Dad, can you pull over?" I ask.
He does so, and my mother twists around in the seat, looking towards me and Max. "Are you alright, Izzy? Do you feel okay?" They've been really protective of me since they learned about my 'condition', yesterday.
I smile reassuringly. "I'm fine, Mom. I just need some air. Maria's house isn't far from here, I think I'll walk there, and then I'm sure she can give me a ride home." I have little intention of going to Maria's, but maybe it will reassure my mother.
She looks concerned, but nods. "Okay, but be careful, Isabel. You have your pepper spray?" They bought it for me when they noticed me going out at night a lot, back about a year or two ago. Of course, they couldn't possibly know that I have powers beyond anything a can of pressurized cayenne pepper could possibly give a person.
I nod, pulling it out of my purse to show her. "Right here, Mom." I smile. "Don't worry about me, Mom, I might crash at Maria's if it gets late. I'll see you by the morning, though." Again, I have no intention of doing as I have stated, but it clears my calendar. If I want to walk all night, or go dancing, or even get smashed drunk, they won't worry. Not that I would do that.
She smiles, and nods. "Okay, Izzy. We'll see you tomorrow, then." She reaches back, and pats my shoulder gently, then I open the door and get out, walking briskly down the street in the general direction of Maria's home.
As soon as their car disappears, I stop. Originally, I'd planned to go walking for a much longer time, but then I realized that I was on Maria's doorstep, and I might as well go see if she wants to talk, or join me, or something. I'm tired of being lonely, and Maria and Liz don't hate me as much as they used to. Someday, we might even consider each other friends. Imagine that.
I'm about to knock on Maria's window when I hear voices from inside. One of them is high-pitched and obviously Maria's, the other is lower, male, and painfully familiar. I smile a little, sadly, as I watch them bitch and complain at each other, as always, and then Michael's shadow in the window blinds takes two quick steps towards Maria, and they're kissing like their lives depend on it.
I used to feel that way, about someone. Now, all I feel is pain, when I see a couple like that. I don't want to, but I can't seem to help it. Alex is gone, and sometimes I feel like I'll never be whole again.
You know that Alanis Morissette song, where it says 'I don't want to be your other half, I believe that one and one make 2'?
Well, I used to believe that, too.
Michael
Isabel is outside Maria's window, but I know Maria is blissfully unaware. She continues to act as though I'm her worst enemy, slinging curses and insults in my direction faster than I can think of counters. She's mad for no particular reason I can determine, but such is Maria.
In fact, I doubt she's really mad at all. I think she's scared, but she admits that about as often as I do. Which is pretty much, once a millennium or so. We both do most of our real, emotional talking, with our mouths shut. Or at least, planted firmly on each other's lips.
I want to take her in my arms, and kiss her until she doesn't remember what it's like to be scared, can't fathom that there is such a thing, but Isabel is still outside the window. I wonder, silently, if I should go and help her with whatever it is that she came to Maria for, but I can feel the emotions radiating off of her, and they're of sadness, painfully deep sadness that I know I can do nothing about.
I wonder whether to go to Isabel, just sit with her, and be there for her, but then I realize that I can do nothing for her, and I can help Maria's fear. My time is better spent reassuring my anxious girlfriend, than doing something that I'm notoriously bad at: Attempting to comfort someone I can do nothing for.
I take a couple of fast steps towards Maria, who is still gesturing wildly with her hands, stepping back and forth nervously, though not seeming to make any conscious effort to get out of my way, and gather her up in my arms. I kiss her hard, letting off after a few seconds, letting her decide whether to continue. She stands still for a moment, and then a feel a soft, wet tongue tracing the outline of my lips, dipping between them gently.
I open my mouth eagerly, and she delves inside, pushing her body tighter against mine as she does so. I doubt this will go much further tonight, even though her mother isn't home, because we've all become much too acutely aware of what the threat of pregnancy really is lately, what with Isabel.
But I can feel her curves pressed against my body, seated just right against my hard muscle, and I remember almost strongly enough to call them flashes, that wonderful night we spent together, marred only by my memories of the grief and pain that I felt throughout the whole thing.
That was the best, and the worst night of my life, all at the same time.
Max
It's five in the morning, and Isabel isn't back. I know she told Mom and Dad that she might stay at Maria's but I'm not that dense, I know there's no possible way she's at the DeLuca's house, and I know I have to find her before Mom awakes and calls Maria.
At first, as I sneak silently out of the house, I have no idea where to look for her, unaware of where she might spend this much time, in the middle of the night. So, I crawl quietly into her room, looking for insight into her mind, and the first thing I see, is the walls, plastered from top to bottom with pictures of Alex.
I find her, asleep on Alex's grave. She's lying on her side, one hand pressed against the metal placard on his gravestone, and the other protectively curled around her belly. I know she can take care of herself, pregnant or not, but I can't help being a little worried about the fact that she spent the night, alone in a graveyard.
I just watch her for a long moment, and then give her a gentle shake. "Iz."
She moans, and turns a little. Then her face lights up, truly lights up, more than I think I've seen it, for so long. "Alex," She mumbles, and my heart breaks for her again. I was his friend, but I'm only beginning to understand how deeply my sister cared for him.
"Isabel," I ask. "Izzy, wake up."
She opens her eyes, and looks up at me, the tears falling fast, the light fading faster, as she registers that this once again, only a dream. I let her lie there, just pressing her body into the ground, as though she can get closer to Alex that way, for a long twenty minutes.
Then I pull her from her position, telling her we have to get home, have to go home, or Mom will worry.
"Isabel, I know you're sad, but you don't want to worry Mom and Dad, do you? Besides, it isn't a very good idea to sleep on a grave, even if you are an alien." God, that doesn't sound like me. I act as though I'm speaking to a child, something which I never do.
But Isabel only nods, and rises from the ground slowly. We make the walk home in silence, but when we get there, she looks at herself, looking a little more like the ever critical Izzy that I knew before Alex died. "I'd better clean up," She says, and I back off, giving her room to do her magic.
She waves a hand over her body, and the dirt disappears. Then she waves her other hand over her hair, and it goes back to the way it was, everything perfectly coiffed. Painfully, she puts a smile on her face, and I help her in her window. "Night, Max," She says.
"Night, Izzy." I'm going back to bed, and I guess she is too, since there's no school. I have a feeling that even if she didn't need her rest, she'd still sleep. She's gotten awfully depressed lately, since we stopped having things to think about constantly, and started having time for her to dwell.
I need to talk to Michael, figure something out, because I'm getting worried about her.
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