Title: Mythology

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: Sorry about the lack of reply to your reviews, my week was suddenly too busy to reply. I will be able to reply on the next chapter, though.
So I tried to make Mr. Evans a little bit more torn about the investigation. On the show, he went through the entire thing without really having regrets or wondering whether or not he was doing the right thing. And I thought that was a bit unrealistic, because who investigates their children like that without at least the tiniest bit of doubt about whether or not they were doing the right thing?

this is the stuff of legends…

Chapter Ten: The Hammer Falls

"I'm not going to investigate anymore," Jesse said without preamble as he entered the office of his father-in-law.

Mr. Evans looked up in surprise and disappointment. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and he asked slowly, "Why? What changed your mind?"

"I spoke with Isabel last night," Jesse replied, taking a seat across from Mr. Evans. "She told me all about Tess and Alex and everything that happened. She and Max went through a horrible time with that, and I don't want to cause her anymore pain by bringing it up." He spoke with the authority and determination of someone who was not going to change his mind.

"What happened to Tess Harding?" Mr. Evans asked curiously, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the desk.

Jesse frowned, suddenly unsure of what to say. He would have told Mr. Evans everything in a heartbeat, except that so much of what happened revolved around Tess being pregnant, and Max being the father. And that particular secret was not his to tell.

Finally, he said, "Ask Max. It is something he can tell you, but I assure you, it isn't what either of us thought." He stood up and shrugged. "I'm off the investigation," he repeated, then strode from the room.

Mr. Evans watched him go thoughtfully. He wanted to believe that his children weren't mixed up in anything dangerous and illegal, but some part of him kept telling him that Max and Isabel had been lying to him for years, and maybe now it was time to figure out what it was about.

He reached for the phone. Dialing a number, he listened to the rings at the other end, and then a voice answered.

"Sheriff Hanson's office."

"Sheriff? It's Phillip Evans," Mr. Evans said quickly. "I need a favor."

"Certainly, Mr. Evans. What can I do for you?" came Sheriff Hanson's crisp reply.

"Do you remember Tess Harding? She was here for about a year, left three months ago. Stayed with Jim and Kyle Valenti," Mr. Evans questioned.

"Sure, the blonde kid. Cute girl, quite pretty. What about her?" Hanson asked.

"Can you look into her past for me?" Mr. Evans asked slowly. "I need to know…I need to know everything you can find about her."

"Why?" Hanson questioned, his voice filled with confusion and disapproval. It was slightly illegal for him to investigate into someone's past, although he could certainly do it as long as there was a good reason.

"I think she and my kids may have been mixed up in something," Mr. Evans said heavily, not liking what he was thinking.

There was a pause while Hanson thought over the request. He, like everyone else in the sleepy little town, had heard the story about how Max Evans and Liz Parker had been accused of armed robbery. He knew little about Max, but everyone had thought that Liz was on a track right to Harvard, and they had been startled beyond belief at the news.

If Tess Harding was somehow mixed up in everything that had happened…

"Sure, I'll see what I can find about her," Hanson replied easily.

"And one more thing," Mr. Evans continued quickly. "Don't tell my kids, or my son-in-law…or my wife…what I'm doing. I don't want to bring this to their attention unless there is something there. And it could all be a wild goose chase."

"No problem," Hanson replied. "I'll let you know what I find."

"Thank you," Mr. Evans said, then hung up the phone.

His stomach twisted into knots as he thought about what he had just done. He loved his children just as much, if not more, than Jesse loved Isabel. And he hated thinking this about them, hated harboring suspicions. He wanted to walk away from all this, to give Max and Isabel the benefit of the doubt. But could he, like Jesse, ignore everything? Could he live not knowing the answer to all these questions?

These were his children, and if they were causing trouble, or if they were in trouble, he had to know.

They were his responsibility.

They met in an abandoned warehouse on the side on an old highway no one ever used anymore. They came in separate cars, unmarked cars that slipped in and out of the streets without ever drawing more than a brief glance from the passing pedestrians. They spoke in euphemisms and short sentences, and they gave only the information that was absolutely necessary to the conversation.

They were well trained, and they knew the game well.

"Agent Simmons."

"Good evening, Agent Blair, sir."

"I trust you know why you were called, Agent Simmons?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

Agent Blair drew a photograph from his briefcase and handed it to the subordinate agent. It was a hazy picture, taken from an ATM security camera and blown up to identify the man and woman in the picture.

But Agent Simmons did not need to see the picture to know who it showed. The armed robbery had been of interest to the few remaining agents of the Special Unit, if only because it had involved one of the subjects still under suspicion.

The FBI had not let its presence in Roswell be known, but they were still there. They watched from afar, observing everything that happened, every little move that people made. They waited and observed and analyzed, and ever since the shooting, they had watched a handful of people in particular.

And there had been the suspicious event a few months ago when something had left the Earth. No one was entirely sure of what it was, but it had left and where it had once been, the rocks had crumbled to the desert floor.

The shooting, the departure, the armed robbery. It all added up to something, to a pattern, if only they could find it. But whoever was behind this, they were good at covering their tracks, that much the Special Unit agreed on. These few who were under suspicion left few clues to what they were and where they came from, and the clues added up to nothing but more questions.

"We have waited for an answer to who and what these people are, but no answer has appeared," Agent Blair said. "We are getting worried. If we cannot discover their plan before they attack…"

"What do you want me to do, sir?" Agent Simmons asked. He knew the answer, but he still needed to have it said more clearly. He was no fool, he wanted to cover himself in case this ever got back to the main branch or was somehow made public. He needed to say he was following orders.

"Watch them. If you can't figure out what their plan is within the next few weeks…take care of the threat as you see fit." Agent Blair gave a sharp nod and left the room. He disappeared into the night, washing his hands of the entire business. It would be handled by someone else now, someone who would do the dirty work and get the job done.

Agent Simmons stared at the picture in his hand, tracing the two figures with a finger. Something inside him protested at the thought of 'taking care of the threat,' but he pushed the feeling aside. They were a threat to the safety of the country and the world, and he would not let them harm others.

Whoever they were, wherever they were from, they needed to be eliminated.

He took Mt. Sinai?

Yes, my Lady.

All his troops are there? Waiting for us?

Yes.

We have to attack, Arya.

It is suicide. There are too many, and they are too well protected by the labyrinth of foothills.

We will not be able to retreat any further. We will have to attack at some point, and our best bet is to attack now, before he has a chance of becoming entrenched in his position.

How long until you are here?

I'm not sure, Arya. Three days, maybe four. No more than that. If you attack now, will you be able to hold out until I get there?

Do we have a choice?

Tess broke the link with Arya and leaned back against the rocks that surrounded her, thinking over what she had just learned. Khivar had taken hold of Mt. Sinai, and his soldiers were ready to engage in an all out battle with the Resistance. Somehow, he had heard of her plan, and he had managed to outmaneuver his opponent and take the upper hand.

Again.

She was closer to the Fel Mountains now, that was something at least. The desert had become rocky, instead of just stretches of sand that seemed to run on for eternity. She felt a little more safe here, now that she was able to hide in the shadows of the small hills.

But the news that Khivar was one step ahead of her was more than a little troubling. Why did everything seem to work out for him? Was it fate? Was it destiny? Was some ultimate power on his side, guiding his every move and leading him to victory?

She paused briefly to wonder whether or not she believed in God. She certainly didn't believe in karma, because what could she have ever done in a past life to deserve what she was living now? But God… perhaps. Perhaps she believed in a high power.

Which lead to thoughts about life after death and reincarnation and all the other things she didn't particularly want to think about.

But when she tried to not to think about that, her mind wandered back to Khivar and to the war and to the fact that she was rapidly loosing.

There was something in the air, in the wind and earth. Some sense that everything was about to change. She could feel it, and it scared her.

She peered off into the distance and wondered vaguely where Khai was. She hoped he was close, she needed the Granolith, and she needed it soon.

She sighed and stared back down at her sleeping son. High overhead, the broiling sun beat down, harsh and unrelenting, and she knew that, beyond the distant mountains, the beginning of the final battle was about to take place.

Shalimar knew without looking up from where she was sitting who it was who was standing in the door. She could feel the power radiating from him, could feel the heavy despair that lingered in the air the moment he stepped into the room. And she could feel the panic that rose within her, fierce and uncontrollable.

Her mental barriers flew up around her thoughts, but even as she forced herself to protect her mind, she knew it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not against him. Too much power, she didn't stand a chance. He would gain access to her thoughts and her secrets, and he would know everything that she had done and seen and said. He would know everything.

The Queen…

It was over in a heartbeat, and Khivar turned away, a pleased expression on his face as Shalimar's lifeless body fell to the floor.

Far on the other side of the world, Arya awoke in her bed, her heart beating with erratic terror. She clutched her head as the foggy wisps of the dream faded away and she was brought back to reality.

And she realized, in startling horror, what had just happened, what she had just witnessed, and what the consequences of it would be.

Khivar knew.

Author's note: So the Resistance has begun it's final battle against Khivar. I am not going to detail much of the battle in the next chapters, just a few glimpses here and there, because I don't really like writing about gratuitous violence. So you can imagine the battle on your own.

Next Chapter: The Red Sun Rises

Due: Wed 3/8