entitled; How I Met You
summary; "None of you have a chance in hell. That is Christie McCawley. Her dad practically runs the anti- Castithan campaign, along with his kids." I just get blank looks. "Including her."
rating; PG
disclaimer; I figured that until we got something on how they came to be Defiance's "power couple" or whatever, why not theorize ourselves? Probably will turn into a mulit- chapter one shots about all the way they could have met.
#3 Go Away
This job sucks. I think to myself as I wipe down one of the counters in the tight space of this railroad car diner. More like a dive. I scoff as a group of rowdy Castithan boys come in. I'm not even through my first month and they have to sit in my section? God, I deal with enough of this at home, living with three men and I come to work and mostly its humans which is nice. I am raised on the principle that humans equal good, aliens equal evil. They stole our planet and made it different. Made it wrong.
They twisted our rules and broke our system. I sighed quietly and grabbed the menus from the stand I manned; I walked over to their table, not even bothering to look up as I dropped the menus in front of the four alien boys, and then walked away. They all looked the same anyway- pale skin, white hair, violet or honey colored eyes that are red rimmed. Just haints; dirty, rotten haints, which is my brothers' main lesson. 15 years of them and you learn something.
I wait 5 minutes before walking back over, dropping the towel on the waiting station again as I finish up the rest of the tables. "What do you want to drink?" I ask, my tone bored as I had my pencil ready to write down everything they said so they couldn't complain and it would limit my time with them if I got their orders exactly right but no one said anything. I look up from my notepad to see them all staring at me.
"What?" I ask them. God, their annoying. They shake themselves out of it and give their drink orders which aren't quite as a varied as they were when my dad was younger. I hear them talking in that strange language as I go to deliver more orders.
"Dude!" My friends exclaimed as the McCawley girl walked away. Another one clapped him on the back, all taking bets to see who'd win her over. Hah! If only they knew.
"None of you have a chance in hell." I tell them all and they stare back at me. I turn a glass thing of salt in my hand, "That is Christie McCawley. Her dad practically runs the anti- Castithan campaign, along with his kids." I just get blank looks. "Including her." I inform them, using a 'duh' tone. They all roll their eyes and the one nearest me says, "Doesn't mean her mind can't be swayed. I bet you haven't even talked to her before."
"And I have no intention of talking to her, shakto." Annoyed, I turn away, looking out the window. He claps me on the back.
"My friend, we all dare to talk to her once. Not a date or anything, just one tiny conversation." I look at him with crazy eyes, "come on, Alak. One conversation." I look behind me to see her. She serving a sandwich to a guy who looks like her, a human. She is smiling at him; well, of course- he is a human. I shake my head as I turn back around.
"She'll never go for it." I state clear as day. They don't understand that this girl hates all of our kind, that she was raised on it.
My friend across from me smirks, "Well, let's find out." He makes a movement and there she is. Brown hair, caramel skin, bright brown eyes- even I couldn't deny that she was beautiful. She carries a tray with a coffee, 2 teas, and a weird bubbly drink that I could never adjust to. "Thanks." I say, as she lays the tea in front of me. She gives me a weird look before locking the tray in between her side and her arm so she can write down our orders.
"What do you guys want?" She asks us, her tone of voice was the same as when she first took our orders. I look at the guys then back at her. "Have you guys not looked at the menu?" She asks, incredulously.
"We don't know what's good." I simply state and she gives me that look again. "Never been here." Someone across the car hollers and her head whips back, making her brown hair fly across her shoulder.
She puts the pad thing away and stalks off; I can't help but watch as she runs over to the order window, collects the food, serves it, clears some plates from another table and then another and wipe them down. In all, it only took five minutes and then she is back to me- us. Back to us. She gives a sigh, and lays down the tray on the seat behind us. Her elbow is propped up on the shiny metal thing connected to our seat. She leans down over my shoulder and opens the menu; I stare at her instead of the menu. "It all depends on what you like. Do you like spicy?" She asks and looks toward me. She doesn't flinch away as she realizes that I was watching her; surprising.
"Yeah." I answer and she nods, taking my menu and picking up her paper thing, writing something down on it.
She nods her head over to my friends, "and you guys? What do you want?" Her voice, the sound of it, I realized I could hear it all day and not get bored- also, she doesn't treat me how her brothers do. She tolerates me . . . maybe she is different.
I take their orders to the kitchen and then wait, going outside to clear those tables instead of being with the staring haints. Creeps. I shudder as I clean the dishes off a table, throwing them into the plastic bin to take to Cook. "It's not even cold." I hear behind me, I turn to the voice, looking over my shoulder. It's the haint from the table. I furrow my eyes brows; what in hell was he talking about? "You shivered." He went on, his eyes bright; my bangs slightly obscured the view, so I could be mistaken. I look back at my bin and move to the next table. "I'm Alak." He answers a question I didn't even care enough to ask. Datak's kid.
"Go away, Alak." I answer, throwing things harder into the bin then needed, drawing a few eyes.
"You don't like me, do you?" He guesses and with my dishbin locked securely in my hands, I head to the cook, ignoring the new puppy dog. "Come on, talk to me." He urges, a groan escapes my lips and I put the bin on a table and turn, grabbing him from the crook in his elbow, pulling him away from the curious eyes. He is smiling the whole time- if Luke ears about this he won't be; that's comforting at least.
I release him as soon as we are out of ear- and eye shot.
"Okay, listen to me closely. I have no want to talk to you-"
"You are talking to me." I ignore him.
"You're messing with my work and I need this job." I explain, hoping he gets the message.
He advances me and I take a step back. He keeps doing this until I'm all the way pressed against the outside wall of the rail car, his palms rests to the right of my head and I can feel my heart jack- hammering. He leans in and I swear to god if he tries... If he ... If...
"Then meet me tonight. At The NeedWant." He requests in a low voice. I have to remind myself that I hate this race. They destroyed our whole planet- they killed thousands of humans. But his eyes. So violet, so warm. I feel my breath lower, my chest heaves. I can leave; he isn't holding me here. I can laugh and walk away.
"Do you know who I am?" I ask him, honestly curious. He chuckles.
"Christie. You're Christie McCawley. Daughter of Rafe McCawley. Sister of Luke and Quinton McCawley. Your family basically runs the haint hate program." He grins and Cheshire grin; like from the cat in the silly world in that book that mom used to read to me before bed when I was little. "Do you know who I am?" He asks, snapping me out of my flash back. I shouldn't be conversing with him. I should leave.
"Alak Tarr. Son of Datak and Stahma. Castithan. Enemy of my father." It comes out in a hushed tone.
"But not your enemy?" He questions. He is really close to me. I should get back to work.
"We're all enemies." I whisper.
His grin drops and so does his hand, but not for long. He lifts my bangs from my face, clearing my vision. "Meet me, tonight." He asks again. I watch him, looking in his weird eyes. It goes against everything I raised to believe. It goes against all the warnings in my body- in my head. It goes against all of it. I look at him once more before pushing off the car, barely a breath between him and me- and then I walk away.
I can hear him laugh behind me and I seriously can't take off the small smile clinging onto my lips and a part of me doesn't ever want it to fade away. This is so beyond wrong, but an old cliche my father used to say: if this is wrong, I don't want to be right. . . or something along those lines.
I'm a bit sketchy about how this came out, because it's not what I originally intended for it to be, so please tell me what you think!