FanFic - Other
"What the Lord Giveth..."
Part 3c
by Catlover
Disclaimer: Roswell, the story line and the characters do not belong to me. No, it is the sole property of the WB, the lucky buggers. I only have the current concept and a couple original characters to call my own.
Summary: Following the four square episode, The Federal Government beefs up it's surveillance at the very moment when the Roswell teens are trying to conceal a startling revelation.
Category: Other
Rating: R
Glendale, CA – May 3, 2003

In the last two months, things slowly went back to normal for the six young people living no more than seven blocks from each other in Glendale, CA. Maria and Alex banded together to help their respective significant others to work through the trauma of seeing an alien child, so like the alien child they should have shared. Although initially bothered by the memories Vellena inspired, Isabel and Michael eventually were able to work past their mourning so that they could care for Vellena when Max and Liz needed a break. As for Max, he started to do better the second Liz returned to their apartment. On the first night that Liz was back, Liz noted that Vellena had Max’s smile. Looking closely, Max realized Liz was right. From that point on, Vellena’s face never bothered Max; he just focused on that smile. For Liz, acceptance came on a quiet night a few weeks after returning to Max.

On a Monday night, the lights were lowered, but bright enough to read by and Liz was reclining in her large chair. On her chest, Vellena was sleeping silently. Liz sincerely wanted to do more for the child, feel more for the child, but found that she couldn’t. Every time Liz looked at Vellena she saw Tess and Max together.

For the child’s part, Vellena seemed to be a happy, well-adjusted baby. She smiled and babbled and held out her hands to anyone within reach, but Liz often found her heart was small and tightly bound where Vellena was concerned. On the night in question, Liz was reading the latest book to catch her fancy. So consumed was she by the plot that Liz never noticed Vellena start to slide down her chest until the little girl’s head was resting more on Liz’ stomach than on her chest. The kicking of a leg and the snatching of a small hand caught Liz’ attention. Looking down at Vellena, Liz realized that Vellena was having a nightmare. She was about to wake up the child when Vellena raised herself up on her forearms and moved up, bringing her head to rest again on Liz’ chest.

A second later, a satisfied, secure sigh escaped Vellena’s lips just as the child fell back into a peaceful slumber surrounded by the sound of Liz’ heart. Liz felt tears sting her eyes. She felt her breath catch in her chest. She felt her heart fill to bursting. With one gesture, innocent and free of manipulation as only a child’s could be, Vellena found her way into Liz’ heart. Liz ran a knuckle across Vellena’s forehead. In response, Vellena dug her nose into Liz’ chest and grabbed a handful of Liz’ sweater, breaking the final tethers binding Liz’ heart. Liz felt her heart expand and threaten to burst with love for this no-longer motherless child. At that moment, Vellena became more than just Max’s child. She was now Liz’ daughter, too.

Los Angeles, CA. – May 4, 2003

Looking wild like the weather outside, Nelson “Mac” Waylans stepped into the Airport terminal and waited for his crew of three men to catch up. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that riding in an airplane always gave him, Mac adjusted his pack and pulled his long gray hair back into a pony tail that fell to the middle of his back. Finally, with the whole crew present, Waylans led the way out of the Airport and to the rent-a-car station where two vans were waiting for them. Against the thundering winds, Waylans and his crew loaded the vans up with equipment from a special baggage pick-up outside the terminal. Two in each van, the group made their way onto the freeway and across the city to the apartment that would serve as their base of operation.

Once inside, the crew started to set up the equipment. On his own, Waylans picked up a large, but thin cardboard box and placed it against the wall in the front hall. Smiling, Waylans placed the picture down and retrieved a nail and small hammer from his faded, denim jacket pocket. After Waylans finished hammering in the nail, he opened the box and lifted out a large picture in an ornate frame. He placed the picture of a young woman with long chestnut brown hair, wearing clothes from decades before on the wall. Standing back, he smiled with his arms crossed over his chest. The crew continued to bring equipment from the vans.

One of the new men in the crew, Jared, stopped and asked who the girl in the picture was. Standing 6’5”, Waylans looked down at the younger and shorter man and replied, “She’s the reason we’re here. Now get back to work.”

Jared just stared at the picture for a second more before running his hand through his sandy blond hair. Waylans, who stood in front of Jared, using his height to intimidate the 5’11” young man, noted his hesitation. Lowering his gray eyes, Jared walked around Waylans and continued to haul in supplies.

Hours later, after setting up was complete, Waylans addressed his crew, “George, Walter, good to see y’all again. Thanks for meeting me on the connecting flight. I guess we all know why we’re here and, from what the Feds told me, this will be the last time. After this, there won’t be any aliens left to kill. I know it’s been a long time since we did this last, gentlemen. I mean what is it now – ten years, maybe more. I know we may be a little rusty and so we’ll go through some practice runs tonight. On a sadder note, as you all know, Pete died last spring of cancer, but we have his son, Jared, with us today. (All the men shook Jared’s hand and welcomed him to the crew.) As always, we hunt aliens and only aliens, no human captures or casualties.”

All the men nodded quickly, except for Jared who only started nodding his head after he saw all the others doing it.

Later that night, Mac and the other veterans of their private war rehearsed their strategy. One by one, they took Jared in hand and showed him the ropes, each one parading out his specialty for the boy. Sitting around a folding table, Waylans went over their strategy one last time before dismissing the men for the night. The men split into two groups of two men each. One group went into the bedroom on the left side of the hall and the other went over to the bedroom on the right side. Jared went to the right with George and settled onto one of the two twin beds in the room. As they undressed, Jared looked down, but occasionally glanced at George, his mind turning and turning. George put his dentures in a glass and brushed his graying hair. He still had a full head of hair but with hard-earned lines of gray scattered throughout. George emptied out his duffel bag, undressed and went to bed. Finally, as he pulled his blanket up to chest, George looked over at Jared and said, “You gonna choke on that question all night or are you gonna spit it out, already?”

Jared fumbled with his words and his feet, almost falling as he went to sit on the edge of George’s bed.

“Who’s that girl in the picture Mac hung up?”

George stared at the ceiling while whistling out a long breath of air.

“She’s Waylans’ daughter, kid.”

“Mac told me, she’s the reason why we are here.”

“She’s the reason he’s here.”

“What’s your reason?”

“Been asking myself that ever since I got on the plane last night. I guess I’m here because Mac needs me here. Why? Why you here?”

Jared stood up and walked over to his bed. He slid under the covers before answering, “I guess I just want to know what my Dad was doing all those years.”

George nodded his head and sucked in his lower lip. Jared reached over to turn off the light when another question struck him.

“Why is her picture hanging there like that?”

“Best if you asked Waylans about that. Now go to bed, we got a busy day tomorrow.”

Across the hall, Waylans laid out on his bed. He had taken off his boots and his jacket and was lying on top of the covers in his jeans and T-shirt. His arms were resting on his not nearly as flat as it used to be stomach. Both of his hands were holding a bent and yellowed picture. From across the room, Walter looked over at Waylans and shook his head. As he undressed, it was clear to see that Walter’s body consisted mainly of a mass of old skin stretched over a wiry frame. He couldn’t brag about as much hair as he used to, but what he has is still mainly thick, black and wild. Reaching over to the lamp, Walter grabbed the draw cord.

“Lights out, Mac. Time to put Molly away.”

Saying nothing, Waylans pulled his wallet out and placed the picture back in its slot. Sighing quietly, Waylans placed the wallet on the nightstand just as the light was turned off. In the dark, Waylans placed his arms behind his head and remembered.

The next day, the plan went into operation. The crew split up. Waylans stayed at the apartment while George, Walter and Jared went out on recognizance. George staked out a simple cottage house on Lotus Avenue. Walter sat in his car opposite a blue duplex on Corliss Street. Jared sat on a low stone wall a few houses down from an apartment on Hammersmith Street. George radioed in at 6:27 a.m. when a beautiful blond woman and a thin, brunette male walked out of the house on Lotus Avenue. Waylans was intrigued when Walter called in at 6:29 a.m. telling him that a beautiful blond woman and a tall brunette male had just entered the duplex on Corliss Street. Calling George, Waylans instructed George to abandon his post and go to Walter’s position.

At 6: 38 a.m., Walter called in again saying that a young brunette woman had just left the duplex on Corliss Street. Waylans told George to follow the brunette woman while Walter continued to stand post.

A few minutes later, at 6:55 a.m., Jared checked in, stating that a male with light brown hair had just left the apartment on Hammersmith Street. Waylans told Jared to hold his post and watch for any other people leaving the apartment.

At 7:15 a.m., Walter called in again and stated that the tall brunette male from before and another brunette male had just exited the duplex. Walter noted that the two men had gotten into the same car. Waylans immediately ordered Walter to follow the two men.

Later in the day, Jared called in stating that no activity had occurred. Walter called in telling Waylans that the two young men had entered a computer company together. George checked in twice. First to say that the brunette girl had entered a law office, then to say that, at 11:48 a.m., the girl had gone to a nearby park to eat lunch. Waylans called everyone back to base. The next day and the day after that, Walter, George and Jared staked out the five young people, making sure their routines were constant.

All that week, Liz, Max and Alex left the duplex and went to work just as they had the whole week. On the weekend, they did the things that are typical of young people. They walked the Venice Beach boardwalk, picnicked at Griffith Park and attended a little travelling carnival in Eagle Rock. That following Monday, the routine started all over again. Unlike the previous Monday, the crew was no longer content to just watch.

After Liz, Max and Alex left for work, George walked up to the door of 2317½ Corliss Street and knocked on the screen door. Isabel answered the door, holding Vellena on her hip. George stood there dressed in a blue uniform, held up a set of fake I.D. and said, “Ma’am, I’m from California Edison and I need to check your meter and your gas line. We’re experiencing a leak somewhere in the neighborhood and we need to stop it as soon as possible.”

Isabel eyed the I.D. suspiciously but finally let George enter the living room. Isabel put Vellena down in her playpen and showed George where the gas line and the meter were placed in the backyard. George took out some tools and started to tinker with the line. Looking over his shoulder, George could see Isabel standing behind him. He turned and asked Isabel to hand him a wrench. As George grabbed the tool from Isabel’s hand, he scrapped a sharp edge against Isabel’s flesh, slicing the skin. Isabel cried out as her blood spilled forth from an inch long gash in the palm of her hand. George pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and applied pressure to the wound. Quickly, he asked, “Oh my, Ma’am, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize there was such a sharp spot on that wrench. I’m gonna have to file that down right away. You’re looking kind of pale there. Why don’t we get you back inside?”

George helped Isabel back into the house and showed genuine care when he helped her sit down on the sofa. By now, Vellena was up on her feet, her little arms flung over the side of the playpen. Vellena cried out and stomped her feet. George turned, oohing and awing at the little girl. He picked her up while gently pricking her with a sampling needle. Swiftly, he stuffed the needle into a small bag and placed it and the bloody handkerchief into his pocket. Quickly, he carried a crying Vellena over to Isabel.

“There we go. Looks like this little dear was just missing her Mommy.”

Isabel looked at George and George couldn’t help but see a tinge of sadness and something else, a distance of sorts in the eyes of this pretty blond girl.

“Just give me a few minutes, Ma’am. I’ll check the line and be out of here. Is there anything I could do for you?”

Isabel looked at him and looked at her hand. She shook her head and hugged Vellena tighter. A few minutes later, George came out of the back, said he was sorry again for all the trouble and left through the front door. Once he was gone, Isabel stared at the cut for a second before pressing her other hand over it, making the wound disappear.


On a bright green park bench, Liz sat holding a book in one hand and a turkey sandwich in the other. On the seat beside her, Liz had her soda balanced on one of the narrow, wooden slats. Liz’ lunch was interrupted by an older man, dressed in tattered clothes, holding a red, red rose. The man asked, “Heh, pretty lady, you want a pretty flower? Come on, a pretty flower for a pretty lady.”

Liz shook her head and turned back to her book. The man picked up Liz’ drink and sat beside her. Liz put down her book, patiently looking at the disheveled man wearing dirty clothes and had a wild, uncombed beard. The man reached out a dirty hand and Liz tilted her head and looked at the man through narrow eyes. Quickly, Liz tore her sandwich in half and handed half of the sandwich to the man. Obviously surprised, the man took the sandwich and he and Liz ate lunch. Afterwards, the man once again held out his hand. Liz held up both her hands and said, “Sorry, I don’t have anything else.”

The man took one of her hands and placed the rose into it. Liz felt a sharp point and cried out. The man took his hands away quickly and said, “I’m so sorry, pretty lady. Did you get nicked by one of those thorns?”

Liz rubbed the small puncture hole while answering him, “Yes, I guess so, but it’s okay. It’s just a small cut. Here, take back your flower. I’d love to keep this rose but I don’t have any money to give you for it.”

“Oh no, you a nice lady. You keep it.”

Liz held the rose out towards the man and asked, “But why?”

The man pushed Liz’ hand away and replied, “Being a pretty lady means never having to ask why.”

Getting up off the bench, the man left a smiling and blushing Liz behind. He shuffled out of the park and to the van waiting for him. In the van, Walter took out a small sampling pin out of his pocket and placed it in a small glassine baggie. Reaching up, Walter pulled the scraggly beard off his face. With a sad smile, Walter placed the glassine baggie back in his pocket and drove away. Passing the park, Walter watched Liz read her book and prayed the blood work would come back negative.


Later that evening, Jared and Walter sat outside a computer firm waiting for the perfect moment. At 4:55 p.m., the moment arrived. Walter exited the van and entered the building and asked to use a phone. His car had just broken down. He needed to call a tow truck. The security guard pointed him toward a bank of phones against the far wall. Standing at the phone, Walter pretended to enter a phone number and speak until he saw Max and Alex walk down the hall.

Dialing quickly, Walter called the front desk and the security guard picked up. A moment later, the guard was calling out to Max, “Hey, Mr. Evans, you’ve got a phone call.”

Max turned to Alex and shrugged. Max told Alex to go out to the car before turning to walk over to the front desk and picking up the phone. At the moment Max picked up the phone, the line went dead. Max said hello a couple of times but finally gave up and handed the phone back to the guard. Turning around, Max walked out the door just in time to see Alex get mugged.

In broad daylight, a young masked thug ran by Alex and grabbed at the suitcase in his hand. In the process of a struggle, the thief scratched Alex’s hand. Alex held onto the suitcase and eventually the criminal ran away. Max ran up to Alex who was cradling his hand.

“You okay, Alex?”

Alex rubbed his wrist and looked at the cut on his hand. Wincing, Alex replied, “I’m okay. No real harm done.”

Max leaned in towards Alex and whispered, “Do you want me take care of that for you?”

“Nah, this’ll give me something to brag about to Isabel later.”

The two men laughed.

From a distance, Walter watched this exchange and was, once again, filled with regret. He knew some of these people must be alien, but they seemed like such good kids. Sighing, he ran up to Max and Alex.

“Hey dudes, are you alright? I saw the whole thing. Do you need a witness?”

Alex and Max stared at the man for a second until Alex responded, “No, we’re okay, but thanks for offering.”

Walter extended his hand and shook first Alex’s and then Max’s hand. As Max placed his hand into Walter’s hand, Max felt a sharp point enter his skin. Jumping back, Walter made a big commotion while palming the needle he used into his pants pocket.

“I’m sorry, friend. It must be this darn wristwatch band. I been catching it on everything. Guess I got to get me a new one, right? Well seeing as how you don’t need me anymore, I guess I’ll be going.”

Walter walked quickly away. He turned the corner and jumped into the waiting van.


Wiping the grease off his hands, Michael pealed off his jumpsuit, glancing at his watch he noted that it was 5:45 p.m. In an employee bathroom, Michael took a shower and put on clean clothes. As Michael left, his boss waved good-bye. Michael jumped in his car and drove away.

Along the way, Michael tried to read. More than once, a head on collision was narrowly avoided. Michael drove along the I-5 freeway and took the downtown L.A. exit on Hill Street all the while driving like a madman. Finally, Michael pulled into the L.A. Trade Tech parking lot. He jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. From a van parked nearby, George watched Michael run to class. George couldn’t help noticing that Michael did this every day. Five days a week, Michael went to work and then went to class. He left home at just before seven each morning and never made it home before 9:30 at night.

A recently familiar feeling of remorse and guilt flooded George as he prepared to follow Michael. With a push, George lowered himself out of the van and walked across the parking lot and up the stairs. Opening a lecture hall door, George saw Michael hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously into an open notebook. Sitting in the back of the room, George waited until the class ended before getting up and walking in Michael’s direction. As George passed Michael, Michael felt a sharp scratch across his wrist. Looking around, Michael couldn’t tell who did it since so many students surrounded him. Shrugging, Michael assumed it had been an accident and walked away. He went outside and got in his car. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Michael placed his hand over the scratch, healing it instantly.


Back at the base of operations, Walter and Jared handed over the blood samples they had taken to George. George went into the back and prepared the lab and equipment. From behind, Walter asked that the one belonging to Liz be done first. He just had to know. George never looked back just nodded and went about his business. A few hours later, the results were in. The crew now knew that Isabel, Michael, Max and the baby were aliens and Liz and Alex were not. The group planned out their plan of attack and rehearsed strategy.

Feeling uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t quite accept or explain, Walter sat in silence and listened to Waylans. It was easy to not respond to his doubts while he listened to Waylans’ confident voice. George sipped his coffee and kept his mouth shut. He kept staring at the blood work. He kept thinking of the youths he had been following and the baby he had held. In the corner, Jared sat looking out the window, waiting for his chance to see the action his Father had often described to him.

Part 2 | Index | Part 3d
Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours
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