FanFic - Other
Part 1
by Caty
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has anything to do with Roswell.
Category: Other
Rating: PG-13
My children are so amusing in their arrogance, thinking they know the plan of the universe. I would let them continue, for I rarely interfere in their world, but those whose lives are being disturbed by this mistaken notion of fate are special to me. They're the first ones I noticed when I turned my attention back to this part of the galaxy. I find, every so often, those souls which call out to me, from need or want. These children are different, different in a way I have not experienced for many millennia. Rather than they calling to me, I find it is my soul which calls to them.

I became aware of the girl first. She sparkled and glimmered, radiating a joy for life hat I could no more avoid than she could live without breathing. And so I focused in on Earth, though I had planned on merely glancing over this planet whose people had caused me such heartache. I watched her from then on. I saw her sparkle flicker a bit when her father left, and I wondered how anyone could possibly bear to walk away from this wondrous fairy girl.

You might ask, if this girl is so special to me, why don't I shelter her from life's pain? I think you might be surprised at how little control I have over things. True, I started it all. But, my children have always determined their own lives. I can only affect them at extremes, on the universal or individual scale. And each of the actions I take has limitless consequences. I learned that well the last time I looked on Earth. I spoke to my beloved then, I did the things they asked of me in his name, and it only brought him pain. He was too much for this world, and while some loved him, many more feared him. They killed him, because of their fear of his connection to me, and in my sorrow I stole his body from the ground they put it in. This world still knows his name, but if I could possibly replay the events, I would rather let my Jesus lead a normal, peaceful life, though even now he tells me that he would rather have the suffering he endured than not have known my touch while he lived. Still, although I don't want my beloveds to suffer, his lifetime taught me that my interference usually only makes them suffer more. So I watch my angel girl, and I cry with her and laugh with her and hope she feels the continual love I send to her.

I wasn't aware of the boy until she came into his life. Even now, his soul calls to mine only when he is with her, as though he is only alive when near her. He is not sparkly, nor does he glimmer; there is nothing about him that calls out to be noticed. He hides inside himself, glares out at the world, daring anyone to challenge him. And yet, there is something - the defiance visible even in his hair, the softness that comes into his eyes when he thinks of her, the smirk constantly gracing his mouth, the way in which he stands, insisting that the world deals with him on his own terms - that demands to be noticed.

I saw his suffering, and I cried over it. But, remembering the experiences of my youth, I restrained myself. I did nothing, and that is one of my greatest regrets. Jesus reminds me, though, that those horrors are what shaped Michael, and that he would not be the same boy that both Maria and myself love without them. He tells me that I could not possibly shield my beloveds from everything, and that even if I could accomplish that, their lives would not be worth living. Djoi3, his counterpart from a distant sun who suffered almost as much as he for knowing me during his mortal life, tells me that I should reveal myself to my beloveds, but only if I am prepared to let the world have its way with them. I suppose that's how I know I truly did succeed with these two. Not that they love me as much as I do them. Not that they stay with me still. But that they exceed my wisdom, that they can talk me out of the sorrow and guilt that sometimes overtakes me. I constantly wonder how my beloveds sprang from myself, for although I put no conscious effort into their creation I could not possibly produce better beings if I tried to for millennia.

I decided that I would remain only an observer in their lives. Until that night. That night, that horrible, wonderful night when his world collapsed, something in me changed. I'm still not sure if it was the right decision. But I decided that I would do whatever possible to protect them.

I thought they were fine after that, that their need for me wasn't quite as desperate as it had been before. They had finally accepted each other, and, naively, I believed that they could protect each other. So, I took some time to look in on other worlds nearby, on the beings I loved there. Imagine my shock and surprise when, upon returning my focus to Earth, I found that nitwit Yalju had sent her children a message telling them of their destiny. Forget that they had interfered with the creative process of life. Forget that they had dared to think they could cheat death. What most upset me about these people, was that they truly believed they could clone four of their race, mix them with the genetic material of another species, reincarnate them, and expect the lives of those four children to play out in exactly the same way as they had before. Just as I don't interfere in the lives of my children, neither do I look favorably upon those who do. I have to admit, though, my reaction was largely based on my personal interest with Michael and Maria. If those two had not been involved, I would have let Yalju's plan continue its course, much as I disliked it. But my wondrous sparkly angel and her brooding counterpart had just found each other, were just beginning to find true happiness with each other, and I could not bare to see them torn apart by the mistaken philosophies of some meddling mother.

And so I went to Earth and took on human form, all in order to convince my beloved children that there is no destiny save that which they make for themselves.

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