Title: Tough Little Boy
Category: Michael POV on his life CC couples Author: Ella Email:
Rating: PG 14 for some minor language. Basically show rating
Disclaimer: Nope I don't own them except for new characters like both Stella's and Martha and any other new characters I come up with.
AN: Thanks to Cristina for beta reading for me. Also parts of this story is taking from Independance Day and Chant Down Babylon at least in the first part so far. Other episdoes may be mention but this will be mostly in the future.
2AN: It's been awhile since I've written any thing. I have several stories still out there so i'm going to go over them and see which i would prefer to work on or if there's anything you'd like to see more of like either Tempting Buddha, Shattered Dreams, Or Faceless Man. Just let me know, because I don't know if I can work on them all. I just don't have the time.
Part 1
I never once, backed down from a punch.
I'd take it square on the chin.
Well I found out fast a bully's just that,
You've got to stand up to him.
'Cause I didn't cry when I got a black eye,
As bad as it hurt, I just grinned.
But when tough little boys grow up to be Dads
They turn into big babies again
Michael's POV:
As a child I, Michael Guerin, had always coveted the idea of a family of my own. I craved the attention my two best friends Max and Isabel Evans received from their adopted mother and father. It wasn't until my teenage years that I received a taste of that kind of love, when I met my Maria. Maria loved me no matter how horribly I treated her and even though I often pushed her away she never gave up on me in her heart. When we were twenty years old a wonderful addition was made to our family, our first daughter Stella Marie.
Now I'm sitting here in my five-year-old daughter, Stella's room, sitting in a mahogany rocker. Her bedroom is pink--hot pink walls, dark pink carpet, light pink furniture--I'm just engulfed in pinkness. The rocker is the only thing that isn't pink. Stella is so much like her mother in her girl ness. I feel so out of place in this room in my black Metalica shirt and black Levis.
Holding her little body in my arms, it's hard to picture life without her. My first view of life in this world was darkness. Unlike Stella I didn't come from my mother's womb; I emerged from a silk pod sack, buried within a cave in the middle of the harsh desert. I was cold, hungry and frightened. I didn't have my mother's breast to suckle like my Stella did when she was born, or the security and warmth of a blanket snuggling my naked body.
You see, I'm not like my wife or most people here on Earth; I'm an alien. Yep, that's right, I'm an alien. You heard it. Well, an alien/human hybrid. I'm probably more human than alien, but there is enough alien to be different. I come from a planet called Antar, which I didn't learn about until I was 16, but that's a whole other story, which I would prefer not to hash out in all it's gory details.
In 1947, we crash-landed in freaking Roswell, New Mexico. Roswell is a small shit hole of a dust town. Our so-called protector hid us in this rock formation with this thing called the granilith that turned out to be a spaceship among other things. Well, Max, Isabel, Tess, and me were kept in some kind of suspension for forty-two years.
Then around 1989, we broke out of the pods, naked, hungry and cold. We looked like normal human six year olds. In search of food, we walked through the cold vast desert night. After an hour of walking around, we heard a strange sound and spotted two lights coming towards us. At the time I didn't know what it was and neither did Max or Isabel, but they were always more trusting than me even then. All I knew was that the lights hurt my eyes and the noise frightened me, I was alarmed at the commotion and ran away even though Max reached for me. Several hours later, in the early morning, a farmer picked me up. At times, I had wished I hadn't been so chicken shit and would have followed them.
The foster care system named me before they put me up with a family. Actually, one of the young on-staff nurses named me. Her name was Stella Guerin. Ms. Stella was one of the few people who were good to me in my young life. She had corn silk colored hair that she wore in a bun, deep ocean blue eyes, and a model frame. She would have been considered a bombshell, but at the time she was just nice. I remember her teaching me how to read, write, and eat properly when the other people at the orphanage gave up on me. They considered me difficult, she considered me a challenge. Maria reminds me a lot of the lovely nurse because like her, Stella didn't give up on me. Granted, she didn't have that much of a say in my life, but she was still there.
I recalled her saying she would take me if she could. She named me Michael because it was her father's name and he had died when she was younger in Vietnam. She missed him. She told me that I was head strong like her father. While staying in the orphanage was bearable when Stella was around, I spent most of my time wondering about the others.
A year later after being bounced from home to home because of different incidents I winded up in the home of Hank and Martha Whitmore I didn't want to go because part of me knew I wouldn't see Stella again. A lot of the incidents were on purpose, like when I levitated the table. I hated the family they had bratty kids who treated me awful. I just wanted to go back to Stella. Two days after I entered the Whitmore's, home I got upset when Hank and Martha were yelling at each other and I caused the kitchen window to shatter into a million pieces. I thought that would get me sent back but it didn't, so I never saw Stella again. The Whitmore's freaked out and Hank called the county, but no one at the county office believed him, and no one came to investigate.
Six months latter, Martha left Hank. She was tired of the drinking and I think she was afraid of me. Martha was an okay foster mom I guess, but she didn't take the time like Stella did and at times she was skittish of me. The day after Martha left was the first time Hank hit me. He was drunk that morning. I asked him when Martha was coming back and he was so outraged in his drunken stupor that he hit me. Hank told me I was the reason she left and I wasn't good for nothing. That was when he knocked me to the ground with his fist and proceeded to kick me in the stomach repeatedly. Luckily, I suppose, one of our alien abilities was that we were fast healers. After that, life with Hank Whitmore was unbearable and all I wanted to do was find my real family.
Before I started school, the bank took the house we lived in and we had to move to the trailer park. Hank still worked at the Cheese Factory but we barely had enough to make ends meet. Hank was always spending his checks on alcohol instead of the necessities or at least they were the last things on his list.
I started school that fall. Luckily, I tested into the third grade and that gave me some freedom from Hank's abuse. Although, at times I'd rather have been at the trailer park than listening to a bunch of people who couldn't give a rat's ass about my life. School was a harsh environment. Being on welfare, other kids made fun of me. Even thought I was smart, there was still a lot I didn't know. Like for instance in the school cafeteria, you can't pay for your lunch with food stamps.
I was in the lunch line and, being used to paying with food stamps, I thought that was how I could pay for my lunch there. Some kids laughed when I pulled them out and placed them on the counter. This got the attention of the teacher, Mr. Trevor. He came over to me and explained to me that the cafeteria doesn't take food stamps. Not only did I think it but I also said it out loud. "They're for food, aren't they?" Then the stood up straight and stern. The vein in his broad forehead was pulsing. You could tell that the remark ticked him off, "I don't take lip from welfare punks." Anger pulsated through me, it wasn't my fault I was in the situation I was or that I had no money to pay for my lunch because Hank drank it away. I was about ready to kick him when I felt a pair of eyes staring at me. It was like a heat lamp was beaming down on the back of my neck. I turned to see a young girl with blonde hair cut into a bob. She pushed her lunch over and told me I could have hers. It was one of the most generous things anyone has ever done for me until later on in life.
Her name was Isabel Evans and she was like me. I suddenly felt less alone in the world. I mean, I knew by that time that the two that were with me that night we were out there, but I never in a million years figured that I would find them while I was still a kid. After school that day, she excitedly introduced me to her brother Max. For the first time since I hatched out of the pod, I felt complete.
Only years later did I realize how incomplete I was. Over the years, I would hear about the family outings and bonding that the Evans' participated in. And even though Isabel, Max and I were from the same place, I knew we were different which is one reason I never told them about Hank's abuse. They just wouldn't understand and they would want me to tell someone, which I couldn't. I knew if I told there was a possibility of me being taken away from Roswell and never seeing them again or being here if our family came for us. I just couldn't let that happen so I bore through the pain, until I met my salvation.
If you told me when I was sixteen that I would fall in love with some human chick. I'd have called you a liar and beat you senseless. Oh and by the way don't tell Maria, I called her a chick, or I would have to hear this nonstop rant about how I'm a chauvinistic pig and how in the twenty-first century woman deserve a little more appreciation blah blah blah. Yep, she gets that women's lib rant from her mother, and she's been on my case about my "chauvinistic/caveman behavior" every since the day I showed an interest in her.
Anyway back to the subject at hand, Maria Deluca, she was my salvation. She saved me from a life of misery and myself. I don't know where I would be without her. Certainly not here holding my precious daughter in my arms. If it weren't for her, I would probably be in the hands of my enemies or worse. She was the reason I stayed on Earth. She was my home.
I'll admit that in the beginning our relationship was rocky because of her fears and mine. I was afraid of hurting her and she was afraid of losing me. I constantly pushed her away and pissed her off trying to get her to see that I wasn't the type of guy she needed but the more I pushed the more she held on.
I remember the time I was pushed to the breaking point with Hank. It was the last time he had ever hit me and left a mark. It was also when Isabel and Max found out, and I was right they did try to get me to tell. They even tried to assimilate me into their family life; needless to say that didn't work out. Back then, I didn't exactly have the best of manners, I mean, look at my example, Hank wasn't exactly the epitome of good behavior. So, I didn't know about waiting until everyone was seated before serving yourself. Isabel should've known better than to try to make me into an Evans over night.
Later that night, I had another confrontation with Hank. I'd had enough of him and I could feel my powers surfacing. I was so tense I had to leave and that's when Isabel and Max showed up. They were concerned for me, but they only made the situation worse. Hank came out and yelled that I couldn't leave. He saw Max and Isabel and suddenly became intrigued with Isabel. He was coming on to her and I told him to leave her alone and then she threatened him. The bastard pulled a gun on us. I had to stop him. There was no other choice. I used my powers right in front of the man I hated the most in this world. I really screwed things up.
There was no hope left at that moment. Max and Isabel were trying to tell me that I did the right thing and that he probably wouldn't remember it the drunk that he was, but that held no comfort for my troubled mind. I knew I would have to leave Roswell, but first I had some unfinished business at a certain Ms. Deluca's residence. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye or without apologizing and that was my original intention.
But on my way, the sky just seemed to open and a cold rain poured down on the streets of Roswell. I thought to myself oh great what else could go wrong as I walked down the sidewalk looking like a drenched cat. When I reached her residence, I spotted her. She looked like an angel, sitting by her window. She was putting some, no doubt, herbal junk in her mouth when she spotted me. She did a double take. I don't think she figured she'd see me there after all I'd spent so much time in the past few months trying to push her away and denying my feelings for her. She swallowed the whole vial of liquid herbs and looked straight at me.
Maria shook her head in protest and told me that I couldn't come in. She thought I wanted to make out with her but that wasn't what I was after and I think she soon saw that in my eyes and on my face. She could see the hopelessness. That was when Maria gave in and allowed me in her room. I crawled through the window. Looking at her, I was breathless. I couldn't think of one sentence to say and to tell you the truth I was a little embarrassed. A part of me wanted her to hear it from me before she heard it from the others. But I couldn't say it. I couldn't bring myself to tell her and that pained me even more. I was a coward and what did I do being the coward I was? I started crying.
Maria felt me trembling while she dried me off. At first she thought it was the cold but then she saw the tears and my upper lip quivering. That's when my pixie girl did something totally amazing. Instead of badgering me about what was wrong, after she only asked once, she told me that it was okay and that I didn't have to say a word then she guided me to her bed and held me as I cried out all of my frustration. For the first time in along time, I felt at peace.
TBC....
Category: Michael POV on his life CC couples Author: Ella Email:
Rating: PG 14 for some minor language. Basically show rating
Disclaimer: Nope I don't own them except for new characters like both Stella's and Martha and any other new characters I come up with.
AN: Thanks to Cristina for beta reading for me. Also parts of this story is taking from Independance Day and Chant Down Babylon at least in the first part so far. Other episdoes may be mention but this will be mostly in the future.
2AN: It's been awhile since I've written any thing. I have several stories still out there so i'm going to go over them and see which i would prefer to work on or if there's anything you'd like to see more of like either Tempting Buddha, Shattered Dreams, Or Faceless Man. Just let me know, because I don't know if I can work on them all. I just don't have the time.
Part 1
I never once, backed down from a punch.
I'd take it square on the chin.
Well I found out fast a bully's just that,
You've got to stand up to him.
'Cause I didn't cry when I got a black eye,
As bad as it hurt, I just grinned.
But when tough little boys grow up to be Dads
They turn into big babies again
Michael's POV:
As a child I, Michael Guerin, had always coveted the idea of a family of my own. I craved the attention my two best friends Max and Isabel Evans received from their adopted mother and father. It wasn't until my teenage years that I received a taste of that kind of love, when I met my Maria. Maria loved me no matter how horribly I treated her and even though I often pushed her away she never gave up on me in her heart. When we were twenty years old a wonderful addition was made to our family, our first daughter Stella Marie.
Now I'm sitting here in my five-year-old daughter, Stella's room, sitting in a mahogany rocker. Her bedroom is pink--hot pink walls, dark pink carpet, light pink furniture--I'm just engulfed in pinkness. The rocker is the only thing that isn't pink. Stella is so much like her mother in her girl ness. I feel so out of place in this room in my black Metalica shirt and black Levis.
Holding her little body in my arms, it's hard to picture life without her. My first view of life in this world was darkness. Unlike Stella I didn't come from my mother's womb; I emerged from a silk pod sack, buried within a cave in the middle of the harsh desert. I was cold, hungry and frightened. I didn't have my mother's breast to suckle like my Stella did when she was born, or the security and warmth of a blanket snuggling my naked body.
You see, I'm not like my wife or most people here on Earth; I'm an alien. Yep, that's right, I'm an alien. You heard it. Well, an alien/human hybrid. I'm probably more human than alien, but there is enough alien to be different. I come from a planet called Antar, which I didn't learn about until I was 16, but that's a whole other story, which I would prefer not to hash out in all it's gory details.
In 1947, we crash-landed in freaking Roswell, New Mexico. Roswell is a small shit hole of a dust town. Our so-called protector hid us in this rock formation with this thing called the granilith that turned out to be a spaceship among other things. Well, Max, Isabel, Tess, and me were kept in some kind of suspension for forty-two years.
Then around 1989, we broke out of the pods, naked, hungry and cold. We looked like normal human six year olds. In search of food, we walked through the cold vast desert night. After an hour of walking around, we heard a strange sound and spotted two lights coming towards us. At the time I didn't know what it was and neither did Max or Isabel, but they were always more trusting than me even then. All I knew was that the lights hurt my eyes and the noise frightened me, I was alarmed at the commotion and ran away even though Max reached for me. Several hours later, in the early morning, a farmer picked me up. At times, I had wished I hadn't been so chicken shit and would have followed them.
The foster care system named me before they put me up with a family. Actually, one of the young on-staff nurses named me. Her name was Stella Guerin. Ms. Stella was one of the few people who were good to me in my young life. She had corn silk colored hair that she wore in a bun, deep ocean blue eyes, and a model frame. She would have been considered a bombshell, but at the time she was just nice. I remember her teaching me how to read, write, and eat properly when the other people at the orphanage gave up on me. They considered me difficult, she considered me a challenge. Maria reminds me a lot of the lovely nurse because like her, Stella didn't give up on me. Granted, she didn't have that much of a say in my life, but she was still there.
I recalled her saying she would take me if she could. She named me Michael because it was her father's name and he had died when she was younger in Vietnam. She missed him. She told me that I was head strong like her father. While staying in the orphanage was bearable when Stella was around, I spent most of my time wondering about the others.
A year later after being bounced from home to home because of different incidents I winded up in the home of Hank and Martha Whitmore I didn't want to go because part of me knew I wouldn't see Stella again. A lot of the incidents were on purpose, like when I levitated the table. I hated the family they had bratty kids who treated me awful. I just wanted to go back to Stella. Two days after I entered the Whitmore's, home I got upset when Hank and Martha were yelling at each other and I caused the kitchen window to shatter into a million pieces. I thought that would get me sent back but it didn't, so I never saw Stella again. The Whitmore's freaked out and Hank called the county, but no one at the county office believed him, and no one came to investigate.
Six months latter, Martha left Hank. She was tired of the drinking and I think she was afraid of me. Martha was an okay foster mom I guess, but she didn't take the time like Stella did and at times she was skittish of me. The day after Martha left was the first time Hank hit me. He was drunk that morning. I asked him when Martha was coming back and he was so outraged in his drunken stupor that he hit me. Hank told me I was the reason she left and I wasn't good for nothing. That was when he knocked me to the ground with his fist and proceeded to kick me in the stomach repeatedly. Luckily, I suppose, one of our alien abilities was that we were fast healers. After that, life with Hank Whitmore was unbearable and all I wanted to do was find my real family.
Before I started school, the bank took the house we lived in and we had to move to the trailer park. Hank still worked at the Cheese Factory but we barely had enough to make ends meet. Hank was always spending his checks on alcohol instead of the necessities or at least they were the last things on his list.
I started school that fall. Luckily, I tested into the third grade and that gave me some freedom from Hank's abuse. Although, at times I'd rather have been at the trailer park than listening to a bunch of people who couldn't give a rat's ass about my life. School was a harsh environment. Being on welfare, other kids made fun of me. Even thought I was smart, there was still a lot I didn't know. Like for instance in the school cafeteria, you can't pay for your lunch with food stamps.
I was in the lunch line and, being used to paying with food stamps, I thought that was how I could pay for my lunch there. Some kids laughed when I pulled them out and placed them on the counter. This got the attention of the teacher, Mr. Trevor. He came over to me and explained to me that the cafeteria doesn't take food stamps. Not only did I think it but I also said it out loud. "They're for food, aren't they?" Then the stood up straight and stern. The vein in his broad forehead was pulsing. You could tell that the remark ticked him off, "I don't take lip from welfare punks." Anger pulsated through me, it wasn't my fault I was in the situation I was or that I had no money to pay for my lunch because Hank drank it away. I was about ready to kick him when I felt a pair of eyes staring at me. It was like a heat lamp was beaming down on the back of my neck. I turned to see a young girl with blonde hair cut into a bob. She pushed her lunch over and told me I could have hers. It was one of the most generous things anyone has ever done for me until later on in life.
Her name was Isabel Evans and she was like me. I suddenly felt less alone in the world. I mean, I knew by that time that the two that were with me that night we were out there, but I never in a million years figured that I would find them while I was still a kid. After school that day, she excitedly introduced me to her brother Max. For the first time since I hatched out of the pod, I felt complete.
Only years later did I realize how incomplete I was. Over the years, I would hear about the family outings and bonding that the Evans' participated in. And even though Isabel, Max and I were from the same place, I knew we were different which is one reason I never told them about Hank's abuse. They just wouldn't understand and they would want me to tell someone, which I couldn't. I knew if I told there was a possibility of me being taken away from Roswell and never seeing them again or being here if our family came for us. I just couldn't let that happen so I bore through the pain, until I met my salvation.
If you told me when I was sixteen that I would fall in love with some human chick. I'd have called you a liar and beat you senseless. Oh and by the way don't tell Maria, I called her a chick, or I would have to hear this nonstop rant about how I'm a chauvinistic pig and how in the twenty-first century woman deserve a little more appreciation blah blah blah. Yep, she gets that women's lib rant from her mother, and she's been on my case about my "chauvinistic/caveman behavior" every since the day I showed an interest in her.
Anyway back to the subject at hand, Maria Deluca, she was my salvation. She saved me from a life of misery and myself. I don't know where I would be without her. Certainly not here holding my precious daughter in my arms. If it weren't for her, I would probably be in the hands of my enemies or worse. She was the reason I stayed on Earth. She was my home.
I'll admit that in the beginning our relationship was rocky because of her fears and mine. I was afraid of hurting her and she was afraid of losing me. I constantly pushed her away and pissed her off trying to get her to see that I wasn't the type of guy she needed but the more I pushed the more she held on.
I remember the time I was pushed to the breaking point with Hank. It was the last time he had ever hit me and left a mark. It was also when Isabel and Max found out, and I was right they did try to get me to tell. They even tried to assimilate me into their family life; needless to say that didn't work out. Back then, I didn't exactly have the best of manners, I mean, look at my example, Hank wasn't exactly the epitome of good behavior. So, I didn't know about waiting until everyone was seated before serving yourself. Isabel should've known better than to try to make me into an Evans over night.
Later that night, I had another confrontation with Hank. I'd had enough of him and I could feel my powers surfacing. I was so tense I had to leave and that's when Isabel and Max showed up. They were concerned for me, but they only made the situation worse. Hank came out and yelled that I couldn't leave. He saw Max and Isabel and suddenly became intrigued with Isabel. He was coming on to her and I told him to leave her alone and then she threatened him. The bastard pulled a gun on us. I had to stop him. There was no other choice. I used my powers right in front of the man I hated the most in this world. I really screwed things up.
There was no hope left at that moment. Max and Isabel were trying to tell me that I did the right thing and that he probably wouldn't remember it the drunk that he was, but that held no comfort for my troubled mind. I knew I would have to leave Roswell, but first I had some unfinished business at a certain Ms. Deluca's residence. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye or without apologizing and that was my original intention.
But on my way, the sky just seemed to open and a cold rain poured down on the streets of Roswell. I thought to myself oh great what else could go wrong as I walked down the sidewalk looking like a drenched cat. When I reached her residence, I spotted her. She looked like an angel, sitting by her window. She was putting some, no doubt, herbal junk in her mouth when she spotted me. She did a double take. I don't think she figured she'd see me there after all I'd spent so much time in the past few months trying to push her away and denying my feelings for her. She swallowed the whole vial of liquid herbs and looked straight at me.
Maria shook her head in protest and told me that I couldn't come in. She thought I wanted to make out with her but that wasn't what I was after and I think she soon saw that in my eyes and on my face. She could see the hopelessness. That was when Maria gave in and allowed me in her room. I crawled through the window. Looking at her, I was breathless. I couldn't think of one sentence to say and to tell you the truth I was a little embarrassed. A part of me wanted her to hear it from me before she heard it from the others. But I couldn't say it. I couldn't bring myself to tell her and that pained me even more. I was a coward and what did I do being the coward I was? I started crying.
Maria felt me trembling while she dried me off. At first she thought it was the cold but then she saw the tears and my upper lip quivering. That's when my pixie girl did something totally amazing. Instead of badgering me about what was wrong, after she only asked once, she told me that it was okay and that I didn't have to say a word then she guided me to her bed and held me as I cried out all of my frustration. For the first time in along time, I felt at peace.
TBC....