Mary
by
Disclaimer: I don't claim. Talk to Jason Katims, UPN, WB, etc.
Summary: When the aliens receive news that a little girl, who hasn't yet been born, will save the earth, what must they do?
Rating: By chapter.
CHAPTER FOUR--PG-13
Michael
I don't know why I have to work this hot, sweaty, annoying shift in the middle of the day, in the middle of the god-damn summer.
It might have something to do with the fact that Isabel, while doing something undoubtedly heroic, has become a total bitch, and might do something stupid, which I would then need to use my powers to cover up.
Fun, huh?
Plus, Mr. Parker didn't let me kiss Maria before shift.
Guess which one's making me more upset.
Well, currently, neither. Currently, the fact that my girlfriend is practically screaming in my face for using just a little bit of language to get Liz off her butt. Apparently, it pissed off some customers with kids in the back, in Maria's section, who are normally good tippers.
She didn't even kiss me when she was done screaming at me, this time. It's really gonna take a while to dig myself out of this hole.
Isabel
Well, day is done at the Crashdown cafe, and it's time to go home and crash in front of the television for like, the sixtieth day in a row.
I should get out. I should go have some fun. But the problem is, even for me, who prides herself on not caring what other people think, it's a little hard to continue having said fun with people laughing and staring and pointing at you from eight different directions at once.
Well, maybe not laughing.
Michael calls this 'pregnancy irrationality'. He claims that it means that I make things five times more important than they really are. He blames it on my hormones. I told him to try it.
He said he'd rather not, and I pointed out then that he had no basis for telling me anything about my condition.
I wonder how long he's going to sulk on that one.
Anyway, I should call Kyle. Maybe we could do something. That might alleviate this boredom.
But the problem with the way I'm getting closer to Kyle is, that every time I go to laugh with him, or smile at him, or god forbid, maybe kiss him, which I haven't done yet, but have desperately wanted to, all I can see is Alex's face.
And the awful thing is, he wants me to move on. He tells me that it's good for me, that what I'm doing is the right thing. That I can't cling to a memory forever.
I guess that means that I'm just not ready.
I hope I get ready soon, though. Kyle won't wait forever, I learned that from Alex, and I don't want to lose him, too, especially to myself. That would be unbearable.
Mary's kicking me. She wants something, I can tell. I don't know what it is, but I know I'd better get it, or I'll be uncomfortable all night. After all, she doesn't have to sleep at night, she can just lay there all day.
I finally appease her when I get up and take a short jog. My doctor told me to stop running, but I figured, he doesn't know I have an alien constitution, he hasn't got the faintest idea what he's talking about. So, I still go out for a quick run every once in a while.
********
Max climbed into his window at five, this morning, and I was waiting for him. Mary likes to get up good and early, and we often see the dawn. So, when my brother wasn't around, I waited for him. I figured I had nothing else to do.
He looks up at me, obviously startled. "Isabel!" He hisses in a loud whisper.
"Max!" I mimic back in a soft voice.
He throws off his shirt, and I turn my back while he changes back into his nightwear. "What are you doing?" He asks.
"I couldn't sleep. Mary likes me to see the dawn. I came to check on you, and you weren't here, so I waited. It's not like there's anything good on television at 5 am, you know."
Max turns around, and I turn back to face him. "So, what were you doing out at this wonderful hour?" I ask.
"I was with Liz," He answers distractedly. Then, his head pops up as he realizes what it sounds like. "Not... not like that. Just sitting with her." His eyes go unfocused, and he stares into space, as though in a trance. "You know how wonderful it can feel just to watch someone sleep, Isabel? Someone you love?"
I nod mutely, tears cracking in the sides of my eyes, but my brother doesn't notice. Max goes on, oblivious.
"It's like nothing else. There are no words to describe it. It's peaceful and quiet and calm and you just feel like you're the only two people on earth."
I nod again, still silent. The tears fall down my cheeks now, but I don't make a sound. I'm sad, but I'm almost enjoying this time to reminisce on the positive aspects of my relationship with Alex. Sometimes, I don't think enough about the good things we had, getting tied down in all the pain and anguish his death caused.
My brother looks up finally, and sees my crying. His face falls instantly, and he stands as quickly. "God, Isabel, I'm sorry. That was so careless... I didn't mean to hurt you, Iz." He tries to hug me, but I push him away gently, smiling softly.
"It's okay, Max. It's good for me to think about the happy. Pretty often, I only remember the sad." I smile a little more firmly, trying to reassure him. "I don't want to remember him like that. So thank you, Max."
He looks me over, and I turn to leave. "You sure you're okay, Iz?" He asks one more time.
I nod. "I'm sure. Get some sleep, Max, I know you've been up all night." I close the door behind me, allowing him the space to rest, and return to my stash of videos. Sometimes, it feels like they're all there is to do around here.
Kyle
It's quiet here, in the morning hours. I don't venture into Tess's room, not wanting to evoke all that confusion, churning around so hard in my head. Sure, I feel anger, but I feel love, too, and betrayal, and denial. So, mostly, I just feel confusion.
There's a picture of the six of us at Prom night. We all look so happy. I can't believe that there's a murderer, a thief of hearts, and a person with that kind of capacity to betray, on my arm.
And I don't believe there is.
I think that Tess is, what in humans, we would call split personality. I've been thinking about it, and there are times when she's just so genuine, so sincere. And then there are the moments that kind of make me go, "Huh?" now that I'm looking back on it. The moments when she seemed like herself, but not quite.
I think that her desire to be a part of something here was warring with her history, her childhood, and Nasedo's advice so hard that she couldn't cope. So, she became these people.
Unfortunately, I don't think we'll ever learn if I'm right, and the Pod Squad is so mad, that I really don't think it would be wise to bring up my idea. In fact, it's never a good idea to say anything about Tess. Her name is the forbidden word in our circles.
Still, if she ever does come back, will I ever be able to forgive her? Even if Max, Michael and Isabel can help her control her evil side, will I be able to look her in the face, after she killed the one guy I could identify with, and made me carry him over my arm like a piece of luggage?
The memory churns my stomach, and I want to throw up. Sometimes I do, I just let myself retch, but my father is home, and I don't want to alert him to how I feel. He'd probably send me back to the school counselor.
I don't know why he thinks that's going to help. He's much more in the know than any of the rest of the group's parents, yet he still thinks that a school counselor who thinks that aliens are just for the X-Files is somehow going to help me? How does that compute, Dad?
I wish I could share this with someone. I wish there were someone to unload on. But the only two people I might have considered doing that on, are the killer, and her victim.
I guess I could go to Isabel. I know she feels something for me, there have been moments when the tension is palpable between us. But she's not ready to do anything about it, yet, and I respect that. I miss Alex, too, and I'm still messed up about Tess. If I had been in love with her, I know I'd be a wreck.
She still might talk to me. But I don't think I should go. We all need our space, and I think that at 5:30 am, she deserves hers more than ever.
Valenti
Amy Deluca just called me. Apparently, Maria never went home last night. I asked her if this was the first time this had happened, and she said no, but she wasn't at Liz's, and she was worried. I didn't tell her that I have a pretty good idea where her daughter is, because this time she might go after Michael with more than a newspaper.
My son thinks that's an excruciatingly funny story, by the way.
So, I told Amy that I'd call around, see if I could find Maria. But Michael wouldn't answer his phone, so I decided to head over there.
Surprisingly, the apartment is empty. The sheets are rumpled, and there's a few of what I assume are Michael's clothes on the floor, but no sign of the couple. Which is unusual, considering that it's only six in the morning, and neither of them has to be anywhere until at least eleven.
Grabbing Michael's phone, which I find after some ginger poking through stuff I don't even want to know the chemical composition of, I call the next number I can think of: Isabel's.
Isabel has agreed to keep her cell phone on and with her at all times, both for her parents state of mind, and for the rest of ours. It's a useful tool right now, because I need to talk to her, but don't want to dial her home line, and risk waking the Evans'.
Maria answers it. "Hello?"
A little surprised, I nonetheless don't question it. "Maria, your mother called me, looking for you."
A hand covers the mouthpiece of the phone, and I can hear her relay the message to someone else. A moment later, Michael's voice exclaims in a muted tone. "Shit!"
Maria gets back on the phone. "Does she know where I was?"
I smile a little. I'm don't want to lie for Maria, but there's no way I'm going to tell her mother the truth. Amy DeLuca would kill me if she knew that I had even suspicions that Michael and Maria were sleeping together, and didn't tell her. "How could I? I have no idea where you were."
Maria breathes a sigh of relief, and I hear her talk to Michael again. He breathes out forcefully, and I hear the phone change hands. "Sheriff?"
It's just habit, they all call me that. "Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Sure, Michael. Now, what are you doing at Isabel's at six in the morning?"
A note of tender excitement creeps into his usually rough voice. "The baby's coming."
"What?!"
"Mary's on her way.""Will she be alright? She's only seven and a half months."
"Almost eight, actually. And Max and I felt around, we think she'll be fine. Maybe we misjudged her age a little when we... you know."
I let this sink in for a long moment. "Why didn't you call?"
"The doc told Isabel that first babies usually take a long time, and by everyone's calculations, she's still a long ways from delivery. It's six in the morning. We thought we'd let you sleep."
"Thanks, but we're on our way." I hang up with Michael, and rush home, skirting the speed limit the whole way.
Kyle
We made plans for Mary's arrival had been made the moment she entered Isabel's body, and our care. Isabel managed to convince her parents that she wanted a home birth, and though still young, the doctor had discovered her fit for it. He didn't recommend first babies as home births, but didn't think Isabel would have any particular trouble.
Max and Michael decided that the benefits of having a midwife on hand outweighed the risks. There would be no extreme tests performed on Isabel or the baby, and Mary was presumed human at this point. Also, this way, she would be a legitimate child, with birth certificates and records and other paperwork which would be needed later in her life.
But the midwife had left instructions, and told us to call her when Isabel's contractions were five minutes apart. So I spent the morning alternately watching the show, which included both Michael and Liz trying to calm Maria's nervous excitement, and Max pacing with quiet anxiety, and feeding Isabel ice chips and water.
At first, she insisted she felt fine, that the contractions only felt like a stomachache, but later on, she gripped my hand pretty hard, even while maintaining that she only wanted to watch a movie and wait for things to happen.
So, we spent our early morning watching Titanic, us guys having to deal with our girls drooling over Leo, and the girls having to put up with the fixated, catatonic stares that were aimed at the television when Kate Winslet stripped. Max and Iz's parents got up at seven, a little surprised that we hadn't woken them, but Isabel assured them that they hadn't been needed, and we'd wanted them to get their sleep.
They also commented on the number of people in the room, and we'd explained, with a lot of shrugs all around, that we just sort of did everything together, and Isabel had elected for us to be present. She was going to tell Max and Michael to shoo when active labor began, but the girls were to stay.
I caught that she didn't tell me whether I was going or not. I didn't push it, thinking that maybe she hadn't made up her mind yet.
Now, we're just waiting for Mary to make her move. Isabel's contractions are seven minutes apart, and the movie is almost over. The room is filled with nervous tension, and Max gave up sitting still a long time ago. Isabel's glaring at him for pacing, but I think he can't help it.
It's been six minutes since her last contraction, and she clutches her stomach with one hand, and my hand with the other, throwing her head back a little. She still doesn't make a sound, though. She hasn't, this whole time.
I feed her ice chips, hoping that she doesn't break my hand before this day is over, and half-watching the movie out of my other eye. The bow of the ship is sinking, and Jack is telling Rose not to let go of her hand. Michael and Maria are all cuddly on the other end of the couch, obviously identifying with the characters at least a little, and Max is still pacing.
That contraction over, the ships sinks. And... five minutes! Time to call the midwife.
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