Author: Katydidit/PolarEmeralds
Email:
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.
Genre:Drama/Angst (not so much angst...shrug Maybe)
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...though maybe Dreamers are forming an alliance against me? Nah...that'd be too much to hope for. :P)
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna.
A/N: This is short, but—ahem—action-packed.
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter 9
A few days went by without further incident, until one day, when he and the Evanses were eating dinner in the Crashdown.
It had started out normally enough-it was a Friday, they went in, chatted with Liz, ordered their usuals, and then waited for her to return with their food. As usual, Michael stayed behind after they had left, and helped Liz clear their table. They didn't speak until they were finished, and the two of them were sitting at the counter.
"So what's up?" Michael asked, cringing even as the words left his mouth. He hated that phrase. Liz laughed.
"Dad got something in the mail yesterday-from the courts or something. He didn't let me read it, but I snuck into his office last night."
Michael laughed at the mental image of Liz clad in all black, sneaking around a corner and tiptoeing into the room. She glared at him, and continued.
"It was about Mom. She gave up custody of me."
Michael was silent as that sank in. "Well, at least now she can't try to get you to come with her."
Liz shrugged, and Michael leaned down to look into her eyes, from which tears were threatening to spill. She scoffed and swiped at her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"It...just kind of hurts that she gave up on me so easily. That she decided to quit on us so she could go start over."
Michael nodded and hesitantly pulled her in for a hug. She laughed but returned the hug, then pulled away.
"I've gotta close now," she said reluctantly.
"You always say that," he whined, but stood and headed for the door. "See you, Parker."
"See you, Michael."
He approached his trailer hesitantly. Something was wrong. He entered silently, dreading what he'd find. Hank was sitting there in his underwear, with football blaring on the television.
"Where the hell have you been, boy?" Hank growled, pronouncing each word perfectly. He wasn't drunk. Great. Well, at least he was only a jerk when he was sober-not violent.
"With a friend," Michael said quietly. He didn't mean to be elusive, but he just wanted to get into his room.
"What friend?" He demanded.
"Just a girl I know."
Hank muted the game and leered at him. "Is little Mickey already fucking? How old are you? Fifteen?"
Michael felt his face redden. "Thirteen. And I'm not...fucking." He had to fight to get that last word out-thinking about Liz and saying it was...disrespectful, somehow.
"Oh. Too bad." Hank turned back around, looking semi-disappointed. Michael let out a sigh of relief, and headed to his room. Before he left the room, however, Hank called over his shoulder. "I don't want you going anywhere tomorrow until this place is cleaned up."
"Why?"
"Because I fucking said so."
Michael had to clench his fist several times to prevent himself from letting loose his energy on Hank, although he had to admit that the thought of slamming him against the wall was quite tempting. "Will you be here?"
"You're kidding me, right? Stupid kid. I'll be out all day. Now get outta here. Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?"
Michael rolled his eyes and left the scumbag in the ratty old chair to bellow at the television and scratch himself.
The next day, Michael decided to listen to Hank. When he was out all day, he was at the bar. And therefore he'd be drunk. And therefore violent. So Michael put on one of his old Metallica CDs and went around, trying to make the craphole look 'clean'. After many, many hours, Michael put down the rag he'd been using and let out a string of curse words, just to clear his head. The trailer was as clean as a place with dirt literally embedded into the walls could be. He looked at his watch. Holy shit, it was eleven o'clock.
"I can't believe I wasted an entire day cleaning up this shithole!" Michael yelled, kicking at the chair his foster father had been sitting in. He slid his shoes on and headed out the door. Maybe Liz was still at the Crashdown...they stayed open late on Saturdays, anyway.
Weird. The lights were on in the Crashdown, but he didn't see Liz. Figuring she must be in the kitchen, Michael headed through, so focused on finding her that he tripped over something. He looked down.
There lie Liz's small form, black and blue and curled into a fetal position. Michael swore a few times and leapt up to see if Mr. Parker's car was outside. Of course not. So he'd done it. Michael knelt down next to her, rolling her onto her back.
"Liz!" he yelled, checking for signs of life. She had a pulse, and her chest was moving, so she wasn't dead-Michael thanked whatever gods that existed for that-but she looked awful. He swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. "Liz?" he asked more quietly, stroking her face.
"Michael?" she asked tearily, trying to open her eyes. She managed to get them halfway open before they shut again.
"What did he do?" Michael demanded.
"The hell does it look like he did?" Liz whispered, annoyance and pain more than evident in her voice. "He was in his office, going over the books, and I dropped a goddamned plate, and he came in here..." She whimpered, trying to curl tighter around herself.
"Liz!" Michael yelled.
"What?" she demanded.
"Don't go to sleep, okay?" He begged. "Just don't."
"I'm so tired, Michael," she pleaded.
"I know. But don't."
"I'll try," she promised quietly. Michael picked her up, cradling her easily in his arms. She slid her arms up around his neck to keep from falling, and he carried her to the door. "Where are we going?" she asked, sounding far away.
"I'm taking you to get help," he said.
"Not the hospital." she entreated.
"No," he promise, then bent to kiss her forehead. "Stay awake for me. Keep your eyes open."
She nodded, and he carried her the rest of the way to the Evanses' house in silence. He banged on the door as best as he could, until he heard someone fumbling with the lock. The door swung open, once more revealing a sleepy Max. He saw Liz and paled, then stood aside.
"Max, you have to heal her. Please. Forget what I said before. Just...please. Make her better," Michael begged, once more laying Liz carefully on the couch. She moaned but was still.
"What happened?" Max asked, kneeling next to her.
"What the hell do you think happened? Please."
Max nodded, placing his hands on either side of Liz's stomach. "Liz," Max murmured. "Liz, look at me." She didn't move, and Michael knelt next to Max.
"Dammit!" he whispered. "She passed out."
"Michael," Max began, dread dripping from his words. "I can't heal unless I can make eye contact.
"Then what do we do?" Michael demanded frantically. Before either of them could say anything else, they heard a shuffling sound in the hallway.
"Michael, honey, we love you, and we don't mind you staying over, but you need to be quiet..." Diane said, approaching them. She trailed off and froze in her tracks when she saw the pale figure on her couch. "Phillip!"
"What?" he grumbled, stepping into the room and wiping sleep from his eyes. "I have to get up early tomorrow-why is it so hard for you people to let me just sleep?" He looked up from his griping and saw Liz. "What happened? Michael?"
"I went to the Crashdown and found her like this."
Phillip knelt, examining Liz. "I mean, what happened to her?"
"I don't know-"
"Michael, cut the crap. Whatever promise you made to this girl, you have to break it if you want to save her. What happened to her tonight?"
Michael shifted. "Her dad was-knocking her around. She didn't tell me anything specific."
Phillip slid his hand under her shirt, prodding her ribcage. Michael winced for her, even though she probably didn't feel anything.
"Who am I trying to kid? I'm no doctor." He gathered her into his arms, standing and heading to the door. Mrs. Evans, Max, and Michael followed.
"Where are you going?" Max asked.
"I'm taking her to the hospital."
"You can't!" Michael exclaimed.
"Why not?"
"She said-"
"I don't care what the flying fuck she said, Michael. She's hurt, she's a little girl, and she's going to the hospital. You three stay here."
Max nodded, but Michael stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not staying here."
Phillip nodded. "I should have known better. Go open the car door for me. Get into the backseat."
Michael obeyed, and Phillip slid Liz into the back with him, putting her head into his lap.
"You got her?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
Email:
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.
Genre:Drama/Angst (not so much angst...shrug Maybe)
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans. (heh...though maybe Dreamers are forming an alliance against me? Nah...that'd be too much to hope for. :P)
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! demented laughter Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. blissful grin Ahhh, if only.... cough Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. g
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna.
A/N: This is short, but—ahem—action-packed.
Things Aren't Always What They Seem Chapter 9
A few days went by without further incident, until one day, when he and the Evanses were eating dinner in the Crashdown.
It had started out normally enough-it was a Friday, they went in, chatted with Liz, ordered their usuals, and then waited for her to return with their food. As usual, Michael stayed behind after they had left, and helped Liz clear their table. They didn't speak until they were finished, and the two of them were sitting at the counter.
"So what's up?" Michael asked, cringing even as the words left his mouth. He hated that phrase. Liz laughed.
"Dad got something in the mail yesterday-from the courts or something. He didn't let me read it, but I snuck into his office last night."
Michael laughed at the mental image of Liz clad in all black, sneaking around a corner and tiptoeing into the room. She glared at him, and continued.
"It was about Mom. She gave up custody of me."
Michael was silent as that sank in. "Well, at least now she can't try to get you to come with her."
Liz shrugged, and Michael leaned down to look into her eyes, from which tears were threatening to spill. She scoffed and swiped at her eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"It...just kind of hurts that she gave up on me so easily. That she decided to quit on us so she could go start over."
Michael nodded and hesitantly pulled her in for a hug. She laughed but returned the hug, then pulled away.
"I've gotta close now," she said reluctantly.
"You always say that," he whined, but stood and headed for the door. "See you, Parker."
"See you, Michael."
He approached his trailer hesitantly. Something was wrong. He entered silently, dreading what he'd find. Hank was sitting there in his underwear, with football blaring on the television.
"Where the hell have you been, boy?" Hank growled, pronouncing each word perfectly. He wasn't drunk. Great. Well, at least he was only a jerk when he was sober-not violent.
"With a friend," Michael said quietly. He didn't mean to be elusive, but he just wanted to get into his room.
"What friend?" He demanded.
"Just a girl I know."
Hank muted the game and leered at him. "Is little Mickey already fucking? How old are you? Fifteen?"
Michael felt his face redden. "Thirteen. And I'm not...fucking." He had to fight to get that last word out-thinking about Liz and saying it was...disrespectful, somehow.
"Oh. Too bad." Hank turned back around, looking semi-disappointed. Michael let out a sigh of relief, and headed to his room. Before he left the room, however, Hank called over his shoulder. "I don't want you going anywhere tomorrow until this place is cleaned up."
"Why?"
"Because I fucking said so."
Michael had to clench his fist several times to prevent himself from letting loose his energy on Hank, although he had to admit that the thought of slamming him against the wall was quite tempting. "Will you be here?"
"You're kidding me, right? Stupid kid. I'll be out all day. Now get outta here. Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate?"
Michael rolled his eyes and left the scumbag in the ratty old chair to bellow at the television and scratch himself.
The next day, Michael decided to listen to Hank. When he was out all day, he was at the bar. And therefore he'd be drunk. And therefore violent. So Michael put on one of his old Metallica CDs and went around, trying to make the craphole look 'clean'. After many, many hours, Michael put down the rag he'd been using and let out a string of curse words, just to clear his head. The trailer was as clean as a place with dirt literally embedded into the walls could be. He looked at his watch. Holy shit, it was eleven o'clock.
"I can't believe I wasted an entire day cleaning up this shithole!" Michael yelled, kicking at the chair his foster father had been sitting in. He slid his shoes on and headed out the door. Maybe Liz was still at the Crashdown...they stayed open late on Saturdays, anyway.
Weird. The lights were on in the Crashdown, but he didn't see Liz. Figuring she must be in the kitchen, Michael headed through, so focused on finding her that he tripped over something. He looked down.
There lie Liz's small form, black and blue and curled into a fetal position. Michael swore a few times and leapt up to see if Mr. Parker's car was outside. Of course not. So he'd done it. Michael knelt down next to her, rolling her onto her back.
"Liz!" he yelled, checking for signs of life. She had a pulse, and her chest was moving, so she wasn't dead-Michael thanked whatever gods that existed for that-but she looked awful. He swallowed, fighting the lump in his throat. "Liz?" he asked more quietly, stroking her face.
"Michael?" she asked tearily, trying to open her eyes. She managed to get them halfway open before they shut again.
"What did he do?" Michael demanded.
"The hell does it look like he did?" Liz whispered, annoyance and pain more than evident in her voice. "He was in his office, going over the books, and I dropped a goddamned plate, and he came in here..." She whimpered, trying to curl tighter around herself.
"Liz!" Michael yelled.
"What?" she demanded.
"Don't go to sleep, okay?" He begged. "Just don't."
"I'm so tired, Michael," she pleaded.
"I know. But don't."
"I'll try," she promised quietly. Michael picked her up, cradling her easily in his arms. She slid her arms up around his neck to keep from falling, and he carried her to the door. "Where are we going?" she asked, sounding far away.
"I'm taking you to get help," he said.
"Not the hospital." she entreated.
"No," he promise, then bent to kiss her forehead. "Stay awake for me. Keep your eyes open."
She nodded, and he carried her the rest of the way to the Evanses' house in silence. He banged on the door as best as he could, until he heard someone fumbling with the lock. The door swung open, once more revealing a sleepy Max. He saw Liz and paled, then stood aside.
"Max, you have to heal her. Please. Forget what I said before. Just...please. Make her better," Michael begged, once more laying Liz carefully on the couch. She moaned but was still.
"What happened?" Max asked, kneeling next to her.
"What the hell do you think happened? Please."
Max nodded, placing his hands on either side of Liz's stomach. "Liz," Max murmured. "Liz, look at me." She didn't move, and Michael knelt next to Max.
"Dammit!" he whispered. "She passed out."
"Michael," Max began, dread dripping from his words. "I can't heal unless I can make eye contact.
"Then what do we do?" Michael demanded frantically. Before either of them could say anything else, they heard a shuffling sound in the hallway.
"Michael, honey, we love you, and we don't mind you staying over, but you need to be quiet..." Diane said, approaching them. She trailed off and froze in her tracks when she saw the pale figure on her couch. "Phillip!"
"What?" he grumbled, stepping into the room and wiping sleep from his eyes. "I have to get up early tomorrow-why is it so hard for you people to let me just sleep?" He looked up from his griping and saw Liz. "What happened? Michael?"
"I went to the Crashdown and found her like this."
Phillip knelt, examining Liz. "I mean, what happened to her?"
"I don't know-"
"Michael, cut the crap. Whatever promise you made to this girl, you have to break it if you want to save her. What happened to her tonight?"
Michael shifted. "Her dad was-knocking her around. She didn't tell me anything specific."
Phillip slid his hand under her shirt, prodding her ribcage. Michael winced for her, even though she probably didn't feel anything.
"Who am I trying to kid? I'm no doctor." He gathered her into his arms, standing and heading to the door. Mrs. Evans, Max, and Michael followed.
"Where are you going?" Max asked.
"I'm taking her to the hospital."
"You can't!" Michael exclaimed.
"Why not?"
"She said-"
"I don't care what the flying fuck she said, Michael. She's hurt, she's a little girl, and she's going to the hospital. You three stay here."
Max nodded, but Michael stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not staying here."
Phillip nodded. "I should have known better. Go open the car door for me. Get into the backseat."
Michael obeyed, and Phillip slid Liz into the back with him, putting her head into his lap.
"You got her?"
"Yeah. Let's go."