CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
November 18, 2000, 1:00 p.m.
Valenti Residence
"Mmph," Kyle muttered as he shambled past to the fridge.
"Mornin', sunshine," Valenti said. "Or should I say 'afternoon'?"
"What?" Kyle said, as Tess and his father gazed at him with amusement from the kitchen table. "It's not like I missed breakfast. You're both eating."
"Lunch," Tess clarified. "We're eating lunch."
Kyle looked at the clock. "Okay, so I was tired," he said peevishly, pouring a bowl of cereal. "It's Saturday, for Pete's sake. I get to sleep in on weekends."
"Past noon?" his father said.
"Yes, Dad, past noon," Kyle said.
"Rough night?" Valenti commented.
Depends, Kyle thought. What did you call fake sex with your ex-girlfriend for the purpose of discouraging her ex-boyfriend? At the very least, it was weird. "Just busy," Kyle answered.
"I heard," Tess commented knowingly.
"You heard what?" Kyle said.
"That you had a busy night," Tess shrugged.
"You 'heard' about something last night?" Valenti said. "I know news travels fast, but that's impressively fast. What were you up to, Kyle?"
" 'Up to'?" Kyle bristled. "I wasn't 'up to' anything. I was at a friend's house."
"I'll say," Tess agreed. "And I'm not surprised he's tired. I'd be exhausted."
Valenti looked back and forth from Tess, serenely eating her sandwich, to Kyle, who had broken into a cold sweat. She knows. But how could she? The only people who knew what went down last night were himself, Liz, and Max. He certainly hadn't told anyone, he couldn't imagine Liz telling anyone, and he had an even harder time imagining Max blabbing his humiliation.
"Exhausted?" Valenti repeated. "Now I'm intrigued. What exactly were you doing?"
"Ask her," Kyle retorted. "She seems to know everything. Or think she does."
"I'm asking you," Valenti said pointedly, missing Tess's small smile. "Where were you?"
"Great," Kyle sighed. "An interrogation. Seems to be the main way you and I bond. Don't you think more televised sports would be a better way to do that? Whatever," he went on when Valenti's eyebrows rose. "I was at Paulie's house."
"Hmm," Tess murmured. "Sure it wasn't a different friend?"
"Just so we're clear, have you hired a co-interrogator?" Kyle asked. "Because last time I checked, I don't owe her any explanations."
"Kyle, you can't call every question I ask you an 'interrogation'," Valenti protested.
"Even if you're not the one asking?" Kyle said.
"I'm just trying to figure out what you could have been doing that would have made the teenage news so quickly," Valenti replied. "Just tell me what you were doing at Paulie's house."
Jesus, Kyle thought furiously, ready to hurl his bowl of cereal straight at Tess. It didn't really matter how she'd found out; she had. Fortunately he had the perfect alibi. Wigged out by the bizarre start to his evening, he'd restored the balance of the universe by engaging in mindless guy stuff. "Well, Dad," he said seriously, "I have to be honest with you. I was engaged in nefarious behavior the likes of which this town has never seen before. I was doing exactly what every responsible adult in my life has told me not to do. I was tempting fate. I was endangering my future. I was running with scissors. I was—"
"Kyle!" Valenti interrupted in exasperation as Tess watched with interest, probably wondering if he was going to confess. "Spit it out!"
"Okay." Kyle paused for dramatic effect. "I was…playing video games! I admit it! I have sinned! I have fallen! I'm so ashamed! Do they have a 12-step program for that?"
"Video games?" Valenti repeated, clearly unconvinced.
"Yes, Dad, video games. No alcohol, just soda pop, and I left at 1 a.m., which is why I'm tired. Paulie's parents were there, so you can call them and check. Please do."
Valenti stared at him for a moment, knowing full well that an invitation to call a friend's parents was heavy stuff. "Video games?" he said to Tess. "Why would video games be news?"
"I just...heard something different," Tess said.
"Like what?" Kyle said.
"Yes, what did you hear?" Valenti chimed in.
"Must not have been true," Tess shrugged.
"Let me be the judge of that," Kyle said. "What were you getting at?"
"Why is everyone taking this so seriously?" Tess said. "I never accused you of anything."
"Yeah, you kinda did," Kyle said.
"You certainly insinuated that Kyle was doing something he shouldn't be," Valenti noted. "That can't be video games."
"Out with it, Harding," Kyle ordered. "Put your money where your mouth is."
The interrogation had come full circle. Tess looked from one to the other, clearly taken aback at suddenly finding herself in the hot seat. Kyle stared her down, daring her to say it, confident he could get out of it. There had only been one witness, and it would be easy to deny everything. Everyone knew Evans had been desperately trying to woo Parker back. Guys who wore sombreros and yodeled in Spanish were pretty clearly not interested in subtlety.
"I'm sorry," Tess said, conceding defeat. "People talk, and I was just...teasing. I shouldn't have done that without checking to see if it was true."
"If what was true?" Kyle pressed.
"Okay, let's drop this," Valenti said.
"Oh, now we're dropping it?" Kyle demanded. "Now that I want some explanations, all of a sudden we're dropping it?"
"She apologized," Valenti said soothingly. "I apologize also. I misunderstood, and apparently so did Tess. No harm done."
That's what you think, Kyle thought sourly. A couple of minutes later, the phone rang, and his father excused himself to answer it.
"So," Kyle said as soon as his dad was out of earshot, "you don't have the 'nads to say it out loud? That's not like you."
"So," Tess replied. "You and Liz Parker?"
"Me and Liz Parker...what?" Kyle said innocently.
"You know what," Tess said.
Kyle smiled faintly. "Still can't say it out loud? Never took you for a wimp, Harding."
"Okay, you and Liz Parker in bed," Tess said tartly.
"Who told you that?"
"Max told me that," Tess said. "He was devastated."
"I'm sure you made your best effort to comfort him," Kyle said.
"So you admit it?" Tess demanded.
"So why didn't you tell my dad?" Kyle said. "Why all the pussyfooting? Why not just spit it out and get me in loads of trouble?"
Tess set her sandwich down with a sigh. "I wasn't trying to get you in trouble. I was just yanking your chain. I didn't expect your dad to go all Sherlock Holmes on you."
"You mean on you," Kyle corrected. "You seemed to be having a grand old time when he was doing it to me, and oh, by the way, what the hell did you expect? He's a sheriff, for God's sake!"
"I know," Tess said. "It's just that...you and Liz? What's up with that?"
"What's up with what?" Kyle said. "Liz and I dated a couple of summers ago. Before she fell in love with Max Evans."
"I know. It just seems a little odd that you'd fall into bed with her only days after going on about trimming your lamp," Tess said.
"I wasn't expecting it," Kyle said, privately noting that was a true statement. "It just...happened."
"Oh. So it was pity sex?"
"What's your problem?" Kyle retorted. "This means Evans is up for grabs. I know you were pissed at him a few days ago, but that's what you really want, right? He's the booby prize."
"Max isn't a 'prize'," Tess said disapprovingly. "He's a person, and he's hurt."
"Yeah? Well, guess what?" Kyle said. "Liz is a person, and she's hurt. Sounds like they're even."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tess demanded.
"It means that Liz has been pretty darned clear about wanting out," Kyle said. "Evans didn't listen. His bad."
His father came back into the room. "So," he said cheerfully, oblivious to the glares on their faces, "what are we talking about now?"
********************************************************
Parker Residence
"Liz?" Nancy called. "I brought you some soup. May I come in?"
Buried deep in the bedcovers, Liz muttered something incomprehensible. The bedroom door cracked open.
"Was that a 'yes'?"
"Mmpf."
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Nancy decided, slipping inside with a tray, which she placed on the desk. "Still feeling awful, sweetie?" she murmured, stroking Liz's hair, or what she could see of it. "Must be that bug that's going around. You stay in bed if it helps, but I want you to eat something. If you can't even get soup down, you need to see a doctor."
"Yes, Mom," Liz said tonelessly.
Her mother left. After her footsteps had faded away, Liz pushed herself to a sitting position for the first time since climbing into bed last night and burying herself under the covers to shut out a world which had suddenly become foreign and painful. She and Max had changed the future. This was a brand new world, one where that future version of Max no longer existed, had winked out of existence. This was her first look at that new future which had cost her so much. So what did this new world look like?
Pretty much like the old one.
Her legs like lead, Liz climbed out of bed and shambled to the window. Her balcony looked the same, the street below looked the same, everything looked the same, but...but everything was different. This was a world where Max thought she'd betrayed him, and he was right, although not in the way he thought. That she hadn't had a choice did nothing to make her feel better. That she might have averted an alien invasion and the deaths of everyone she held dear didn't either. Maybe it should have, but it didn't. She just hurt too much for hypothetical future improvements to mean much right now. She'd dodged her mom by feigning illness, but truthfully there was little feigning going on. She did feel sick, sick at heart, sick of being the catalyst for the planet's future destruction. She'd walked away from Max that day in the desert, feeling suddenly like a fifth wheel, like she didn't belong, like they couldn't be together, and just when she'd started to consider the notion that maybe she was wrong, it turned out she'd been right. It stank, and no amount of sleeping in or chicken soup was going to change that. It didn't help that it was all so unbelievable, so scientifically impossible, so…
Squatting down beside her dresser, Liz opened the bottom drawer and dug around beneath her sweaters. A couple of days ago, she'd borrowed one of those digital cameras from Alex, a massive, heavy thing which undoubtedly cost more than she could ever afford, but which had the advantage of not using film which needed to be developed and which others would see. Claiming she needed it for a school project, she'd asked for a tutorial on how to use it, and Alex had been happy to oblige. She'd practiced in her bedroom, marveling at the way pictures just showed up immediately on the little screen on the back, until the moment had come when Future Max wasn't paying attention. Now she turned the camera on and pressed the little arrow which moved her through the pictures, cycling through the test pictures she'd taken of her room, her balcony, the street below, and wondering if the picture she took of him was still on here. Did an image of a man from the future still exist even after that future had been erased? For someone who hadn't thought time travel possible, it was a pertinent question.
And now an answered one. With a sob, Liz rocked back onto her heels as Future Max appeared on the little screen, all long hair and leather. She'd taken several—she'd accidentally discovered that you could do that with these things, just hold the button down and let the camera click away—and now they slid by one by one, confirming that this was no dream, that he'd actually been here, that the nightmare had really happened. But if he didn't exist any more, why were his photographs untouched? Because he existed then, Liz decided, grasping at scientific straws in her misery. Because at the point these pictures had been taken, they had not yet changed the future. If he had brought back a photograph from his future, perhaps that would have disappeared along with him when that future disappeared, but these were photos from a past which remained unchanged.
They were also photos which could never be seen by anyone else. Punching the buttons like Alex had taught her, Liz started to delete them...and hesitated. Should she find a way to save them? Just to prove to herself it had happened, not for sentimental value. This wasn't her Max—this was a Max shaped by war and loss and desperation. The one silver lining in this vast cloud was that maybe, just maybe, her Max would be able to lead a better life. Would it ever be safe to tell him that he was leading that better life because of her? If 2014 arrived with no ships in the sky, would it be safe to tell him then? Could they be together then? Because she'd wait those 14 years if that meant she and Max could be together without the world falling down around them. Assuming he was still speaking to her, that is, which he might not be.
Her phone buzzed. Gingerly she picked it up, worried it might be Max; she'd have to face him eventually, but not today. Maria would be easier because she was too wrapped up in her squabbles with Michael to register that something was weird with Liz. But it wasn't Max or Maria calling; it was the one person she could talk to, the one person who knew the truth of what had happened, if not the why.
"Kyle!" Liz said in relief. "It's you. I was afraid…"
"It was Max?" Kyle finished. "No, I can safely assure you I am not Max Evans. Thank God for small favors."
"I didn't know you were religious," Liz said, summoning a shred of irony. "Does the Buddha stuff make you religious?"
"Good point. I should have said, 'Thank Buddha for small favors'."
"Doesn't have the same ring to it," Liz noted.
"Speak for yourself. You okay?"
Liz hesitated. "No," she admitted, "but I will be. I just need some time."
"Well, you've got all weekend to hibernate before school on Monday," Kyle said. "And when we get there, I want you to know I wasn't the one who let the cat out of the bag."
"What...what cat?"
There came a pause. "Tess knows," Kyle said finally. "About you and me...in bed."
Liz sat up straight. "What? Are you sure?"
"Oh, yeah," Kyle said darkly. "She yanked my chain for a good ten minutes."
"Why would she do that?" Liz said. "Why would she care?"
There came an even longer pause. "We...kinda...had a moment," Kyle said, sounding supremely uncomfortable.
Liz blinked. "A 'moment'? What kind of 'moment'? Did you sleep with her?"
"No!" Kyle said quickly. "No, I...we just...we bonded over absent mothers. And she was all pissed off at Evans, and she's really hot when she's pissed, and I…we just kind of...connected. Not that kind of connecting," he added hurriedly, as though sensing her raised eyebrows. "It might have gone in that direction, but it didn't."
"But now she thinks I'm trying to steal every single guy she's interested in," Liz said wearily.
"Something like that," Kyle agreed. "But now she might get Max, right? That's what she wanted, right?"
"I guess so," Liz said. "I just can't figure out how she knew. I mean, I told her to be here last night, that she'd have another chance with Max, but I didn't tell her why. Was she hiding on the balcony, or looking in the window?"
"No and no," Kyle said. "Max told her."
Liz's mouth fell open. "Max? Max...told her? He told her we slept together? I mean, that he thinks we slept together?"
"That's what she said," Kyle answered. "She claims she'll keep her mouth shut, and maybe she will. But if she doesn't, I wanted you to have a heads up. And to know it wasn't me."
"This affects you, too," Liz said dully. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I didn't see this coming."
"Don't worry about me," Kyle said gently. "I'm a guy—this kind of news can only help my reputation. It doesn't work the same way for girls. Which sucks and is totally unfair, but that's the way it is."
"Yeah," Liz said faintly. "Right. Thanks, Kyle. Bye."
Incredible, Liz thought, leaning against the dresser, stunned. Never in a million years would she have expected Max to spill the beans that quickly, and certainly not to Tess. Isabel, maybe, since she was his sister, but Tess? Here she was, all torn up about how hurt he must be, and he was out there blabbing to Tess, of all people. Granted he didn't realize she hadn't really slept with Kyle, but still...telling was just uncool. It was unchivalrous. No, it was worse—it was downright mean. It was something she'd never seen Max be.
Her fingers shaking, Liz started deleting the pictures of Future Max one by one, her finger stabbing the button so hard, it didn't always take. Maybe this was all for the best. Maybe Max really had been ready to move on and just couldn't bring himself to admit it. Regardless, there was no way she going to spend her weekend pining while Max was out there blabbing. It really was officially over, and she felt a part of her she'd been reluctant to acknowledge heave a sigh of relief.
Time to move on.
********************************************************
Proctor Residence
"Ow. OwOwOw!" Courtney exclaimed under her breath, wincing as the gauze moved from one cut to another.
"I'm sorry," her tormenter said gently. "I'm trying to be careful, but there are so many cuts, and I'm sure they all sting."
"Yeah, they did a great job of making sure we felt pain," Courtney said wearily as morning sun poured in the window of the guest room in Dee's house. It was a beautiful day outside, but she wasn't feeling it. It had been hard to sleep last night even though they'd treated her cuts; any position she'd assumed hurt, and turning over in bed hurt like hell. "What did you say your name was, again?"
"Yvonne," answered the white-haired old lady currently dabbing at her sliced-n-diced husk "Although I've gone by an alias for most of my adult life."
"You and me both," Courtney said. "Dee said you were a doctor?"
"Yes," Yvonne answered, "although I started as a nurse at the Army base nearby."
Courtney twisted around; Dee had told her she'd be safe with this woman, but hadn't elaborated. "A nurse? So you're the one she told me about, the one who…"
"Was assigned to Jaddo," Yvonne finished. "He and I were daily companions for nearly 3 years."
"Three years?" Courtney exclaimed. "And you're still sane? How'd you manage that?"
"It wasn't easy," Yvonne allowed, "but it was harder for Jaddo. I've often wondered if his being so difficult wasn't a result of his captivity."
"I'm sure it didn't help, but trust me, he was an asshole long before that," Courtney assured her. "So how long have you known the Warders? Must be from the beginning, or close to it."
"I was stationed at the base when the ship crashed," Yvonne said. "I knew Jaddo and Brivari, of course, and one of the Warders who died. I met Malik, and Marana, and—"
"Whoa," Courtney said, holding up a sore hand. "Name-dropping! I thought Dee was the only one who knew the other two."
"Urza survived long enough to talk to," Yvonne answered. "He died shortly after the ship was discovered."
" 'Talk to'?" Courtney said in disbelief. "Nobody 'meets' Warders where I come from. Nobody 'talks to' Warders. Here, everybody chats them up like they're next door neighbors."
"We don't fear them the way you do," Yvonne noted. "And they reached out to us in ways I'm sure they don't on Antar because they needed our help."
"Mmm," Courtney murmured, wincing as the gauze continued its stinging march and surprisingly startled to hear the name of her planet spoken out loud by a comparative stranger. "So what was Urza like?"
"Urza...was a sweetheart," Yvonne finished softly.
"A 'sweetheart'?" Courtney echoed. "Okay, 'Warder' and 'sweetheart' do not belong in the same sentence. Warders are guard dogs. Nasty guard dogs. The kind you don't pet, or you'll lose a hand. Only one, if you're lucky."
Yvonne smiled faintly. "This one wasn't. Granted, I only met him as he lay dying. I was surprised that he treated me so kindly even though I was a different species. We certainly didn't do the same for him."
"Sounds like you did," Courtney said.
"I tried," Yvonne said. "But I was hardly in a position of power. Valeris was so badly wounded that he couldn't have been saved, but Urza they could have brought back with healing stones. I stalled the autopsy as long as I could, but…"
Her voice trailed off, the memory clearly still painful. "So why the alias?" Courtney asked, changing the subject. "Were my people chasing you?"
"Goodness, no," Yvonne said. "My people were. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say that I've been 'Marie Johnson' for most of my adult life. They caught up with me last spring when Max was taken. The Special Unit took me too."
"You mean they're still hunting you after all these years?"
"Powerful men don't like being thwarted," Yvonne noted. "But I've decided to go back to 'Yvonne'. Maybe I'll keep the 'Johnson', but it's time I took my own name back."
"What if they find you again?" Courtney said.
Yvonne shook her head. "I'm an old woman now. I don't have much time left. At this point, there's little they can take from me that I haven't already lost. And frankly, I'm tired of it."
"You and me both," Courtney said. "Husks have a lifespan, and mine doesn't have much time left."
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with husks," Yvonne said. "It's an amazing reproduction of a human exterior, but it appears quite fragile. These cuts are barely healing." She dropped the gauze pad in a bowl of water, which promptly stained pink. "That's the best I can do for the moment. That should keep the wounds from getting infected, but I'm afraid it won't make you more comfortable. I'm sorry."
"All these cuts would've been gone by now back when it was young," Courtney said sadly, grateful the dabbing and stinging was over. "My husk is so old, it's not healing the way it used to. It might not heal at all."
"I'm sure Dee will be back soon," Yvonne said. "She's just waiting for Brivari to come home."
Courtney shook her head. "What makes you think he's gonna run right over here with a healing stone? He hates me. Treaties and treason, and all that."
"He'll come around," Yvonne said with a confidence Courtney did not share. "Dee also said she managed to get some of your things from your house, and that it didn't look like anyone had been there."
"Yet," Courtney amended. "What's taking them so long? I thought they would have ransacked the place by now."
"I imagine we're all a bit preoccupied at the moment," Yvonne said, gathering up her first aid supplies. "Try to get some rest. You look exhausted."
Tell me about it, Courtney thought sadly as she gazed into the mirror, the cuts from the broken window at Rath's place redder and angrier in daylight. Her poor sleep last night wasn't only because of her injuries. She'd replayed that scene with Rath over and over in her mind, the look in his eyes, the unfocused blast of power that could have blown her to smithereens. What was she going to do now? Where was she going to go? She couldn't stay with Dee forever; the hybrids came around on a regular basis. It wasn't a good idea to stay anywhere in Roswell, but if her husk failed, it kind of wouldn't matter where she was…
"Let me know when you're through feeling sorry for yourself."
Courtney whirled around to find Brivari in the room's one chair, leafing through a magazine Dee had left for her. "Where did…? How did…? Never mind," she finished, having backed against the dresser. "Where's Dee?"
"Most likely at my house, waiting for me," Brivari answered. "She'll have a long wait. I'm not going back there."
"Why not?" Courtney asked, curious in spite of herself.
"None of your business. I gather from the 3 dozen messages she left me that you got yourself into trouble. Although I don't need messages to tell me that," he added, eyeballing her wounds.
"Oh, go ahead," Courtney said crossly. "Tell me how stupid I was, and what a traitor, and—"
"Don't put words in my mouth," Brivari interrupted sharply. "If you can mange to stop yapping for a minute, I'll attempt a repair. Sit."
Courtney bit back a retort and sank onto the bed. She'd assumed Brivari would refuse to help her, and further assumed his presence meant assassination, not assistance, so she'd been prepared to give him a piece of her mind, because why not? If she was dead anyway, she may as well go down fighting.
But it appeared she wasn't. Brivari produced a healing stone, and moments later she felt the soft buzzing sensation which indicated it was working, albeit slowly. Superficial wounds like hers should have disappeared within seconds, but the stinging and soreness lessened only gradually before finally fading away. Ten interminable minutes later, she looked into the mirror and found all of the cuts gone.
"Thank you," she said awkwardly.
"You're welcome," Brivari said. "Now get on the horn and tell your Second I'll be there soon."
Courtney just barely caught her phone, which Brivari had retrieved from the table and tossed to her. "Why?" she asked warily.
"So they don't lose their marbles like they always do when I show up," Brivari said irritably. "We agreed you'd call first, remember? If Nathaniel has fair warning, we can dispense with the usual drama my arrival induces."
"No, I meant why are you going there? What business do you have with the Resistance?"
"Based on what Zan told me, my previous plans to house your people when their husks fail won't work," Brivari answered. "With them all in one place, they made a convenient target when the invasion arrived. I mean to change that."
Courtney's heart leaped in her chest. She'd figured Brivari had forgotten all about his promise to keep them alive past their husks' sell-by date, either that or he wasn't interested because he was so angry with her. "So...you believe him. You believe what he said about the future."
"I believe that's what happened in his particular rendition of the future," Brivari said. "The details he gave were convincing. And if it happened once, it could happen again."
"But he changed the future," Courtney said.
"He changed one element of the future," Brivari corrected, "and an inconsequential one in my opinion. What happened in his timeline may still happen, even it occurs later...or sooner."
Courtney hesitated before deciding she had nothing to lose by resurrecting a sore subject. "Does this mean you're going to support the treaty?'
"I haven't decided," Brivari answered.
"Why not?" Courtney said. "He thought the invasion happened because you didn't support it. You said you believed him. Why prepare for an invasion when you can just support the treaty and avoid it altogether?"
"Do you really think it's that simple?" Brivari said. "Let me tell you something—politics is never that simple. I may believe what Zan said happened in his future, but that doesn't mean I agree with his assessment as to why it happened. He's even less experienced than you are, and that's saying something."
"It doesn't take a boatload of experience to know that you're being dangerously short-sighted," Courtney retorted. "People who are talking aren't fighting. An armistice is required for negotiations to—"
"Good God, you're naive," Brivari broke in impatiently. "Do you really think everyone will honor that armistice? And what happens when the talks break down and fighting resumes?"
Courtney bristled at the scorn in his voice, the utter dismissiveness in his tone. " 'If'," she corrected hotly. "If the talks break down, and we'll never know unless we try. A better question would be, what happens if you never try to talk in the first place? The war just goes on forever, that's what!"
"No, you make sure you win the war," Brivari argued. "You seem to think negotiation is the only way to end it. Another way to end it is to go back and take what's ours."
"And when, exactly, do we do that?" Courtney demanded. "Zan is still a child. It'll be years before he's ready, and even then, it'll be a massive effort with massive casualties to win that way, assuming we can, and while we're waiting to even try, the war just goes on. Is that what you want? Does war make you feel big and powerful and important?"
Brivari gave her a hard stare. "Are you quite certain you want to have this conversation?"
"No," Courtney said acidly, "I'm not certain, I'm positive. I don't have much time left, Brivari. You must have noticed how long it took to heal me. Those cuts should have healed by themselves; a healing stone should have made them vanish in seconds. You worked for ten minutes. Ten minutes. I don't have long to live, and there's no spare husk waiting for me, so you're looking at a woman who has nothing to lose." She tossed her phone back to him. "Support that treaty, or I don't call Nathaniel."
Brivari shook his head in disgust. "You've got to be kidding."
"You wish," Courtney retorted. "I don't announce your arrival just to avoid 'drama'. If you show up without my blessing, they'll assume you're the enemy. Yeah, that's right," she went on when he gave her a penetrating stare. "I'm not so 'naive' that I didn't prepare for the possibility that you and I would wind up enemies. Go there alone, and they will take you down."
Brivari gave a snort of derision. "And themselves with me?"
"There are way more of them then there are of you," Courtney said grimly. "There's only one of you now, remember? I was recently reminded of why the expression 'death by a thousand cuts' has survived. Sure, a bunch of them will die, but so what? They're dying anyway. Hell, you built them a safe house in that other timeline, and they all died anyway!"
"Which is precisely what I'm trying to prevent," Brivari said in exasperation. "Explain to me how I became the enemy here?"
"By refusing to support the treaty!" Courtney exclaimed. "It doesn't matter what's in the first draft, for Christ's sake! It'll go through so many drafts by the time it's done that it may wind up completely different. It'll take so long to get there that Zan will not only have reached adulthood, he may be halfway through it. The point is that it will give everyone something else to do, something else to focus on that doesn't involve killing each other."
"Until it doesn't," Brivari said impatiently. "Until it falls apart and we're right back to square one!"
"What makes you think it's doomed to fall apart?" Courtney demanded. "It may not, and even if it does, it may take years for that to happen. In the meantime everyone can breathe a little easier, feel safer, start actually living again. The economy will improve, enough so that maybe, just maybe, those in power will think twice about scuttling the negotiations and throwing everyone back into the dark ages. The longer things are better, the more pressure there will be to make them stay that way."
"This is Larak talking," Brivari said. "You've both missed the part where making concessions make you look weak, and looking weak means you get trampled. Compromise isn't always the way forward."
"So what do we do, then, huh?" Courtney said angrily. "Nothing? Because we now know that worked out so well for us the first time. You know, this is what Rath complains about with Zan, and I'm beginning to see his point. Here I thought you and Zan were supposed to be so different, but it turns out you're more alike than you realize. Or want to be."
"We have no idea if this new future will follow the same path," Brivari said. "What Zan told us is just one of many paths our lives can take."
"I hear he changed your path," Courtney said. "Is that what this is all about? You had what you wanted, and now you don't?"
The first barb had slid past, but this one didn't. Brivari's features hardened, emphasizing just how much she was playing with fire. It was a low blow, perhaps, but she had to do something to get his attention. There may not be another chance.
"Don't patronize me," Brivari said furiously. "While you're all in a lather about me not doing your bidding, I've been planning the safe house for the Resistance and leading Nicholas astray. Do you think it's mere coincidence that he hasn't descended on Roswell to look for Vanessa? I sent him on a treasure hunt as long as I could, making him think she's on the run. That I chose to grieve at the same time is not something I owe anyone an apology for."
"Stop changing the subject," Courtney retorted. "Support the treaty, or lose the Resistance."
"And what if I decide that's an acceptable loss?" Brivari demanded.
"You won't," Courtney said. "We're huge on Antar. You need us. And if word gets out that you let our Earthside contingent die because of a stupid argument over a peace treaty, you can kiss your dream of armed conquest goodbye because Zan won't have enough people behind him to staff the Crashdown on a slow night."
Brivari made a sound of pure fury as Courtney stood her ground. Twenty minutes ago she'd been injured and doubtful she'd ever recover. Now she'd not only recovered, she had the King's Warder over a barrel. She, Larak, and Dee had waited, pleaded, reasoned, argued, and cajoled. The King himself had appeared from the future validating their claims that the treaty was the way to go. None of it had worked. Time to throw some elbows.
"Fine," Brivari said finally, but no less angrily. "You can have your stupid treaty, if—if—you give me something in return."
They stared each other down in silence as history repeated itself; this was the second time a member of her family had tried to make a deal with a Royal Warder and found payment due. In 1959 it had been her father and Jaddo, who had handed over 2 sets of pods for safekeeping in exchange for her hand in marriage to the King's Second. Now it was her and Brivari, with a price exacted for his support of the treaty Jaddo made. My turn, Papa, Courtney thought as she looked Brivari straight in the eye.
"You want something? Name it."
********************************************************
Copper Summit, Arizona
Greer stepped into the doorway and coughed quietly. Nicholas was looking out the window, his back to him. He did not turn around.
"Well? Is it her?"
"Yes, sir," Greer said regretfully. "The remains were identified as Vanessa's."
There was a long pause. "And where did they come from?" Nicholas said finally.
"The box was postmarked Washington, D.C.," Greer answered, "and there was...a note."
A hand reached back. Greer placed the small card which had arrived in the box with Vanessa's remains into Nicholas' hand.
My condolences,
Brivari
"Was there anything else?" Nicholas said stiffly.
"No, sir," Greer answered, relieved that his master wasn't screaming—yet. "I would imagine she tried to make a deal with the Warders, and ran when it didn't take. When they caught up with her—"
"Shut up," Nicholas said.
Greer obediently fell silent. No one said anything for what seemed like a very long time.
"Right," Nicholas said suddenly. "We'll give her a funeral befitting an elected representative. And get me a plane ticket to New York City."
Greer blinked. "New York City? Why?"
"You know why," Nicholas said grimly. "They want a treaty? I'll give them a treaty that will make them wish they'd never raised the subject. And we'll need a puppet king to rubber stamp it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We're in the midst of moving our oldest to his new house, so I'll be back with Chapter 59 on Sunday, December 11.
But we're nearly done, and I want to get another chapter in before Christmas, so wherever I am, I'll post the next chapter next Sunday, December 18. 
) on Sunday, April 2.