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Ava, Chapter 1: Ava

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Posted to September 1, 2003

     When I left Roswell I just walked.  I hitched a ride and went as far as it took me.  I just kept going west.  There’s no place back for me to go.  Everyone’s dead, and I have no home in Roswell, no matter how kind Liz is.  So I went forward, to San Francisco.  I was planning on moving on, but I walked up and down five hills and suddenly reached a vantage point where I could see the bay.  I wanted to stay.  I liked this city.  The wind whipped through my clothes and I shivered, but it made me feel alive again.  It made me believe that I could live again, without Zan, without Rath, without Lonnie.  I didn’t want to before.  But at that moment I felt like I could.  I could survive here, make a new life, and forget about the old one.

     That night I found a warehouse.  There were a few tarps in the corner and I curled up in them and went to sleep.  I was awoken just a few hours later with a touch on my face.  It was kind and tentative.  I slowly opened my eyes and saw white and orange blur in front of my eyes.  They finally focused and a girl bent over me, paler than anyone I had seen in California so far.  Her hair was dyed an orange color, pulled back in a ponytail with stray locks guarding her face, and she’s gorgeous.  Everything in my upper chest compressed together and I could barely breathe.  There was something about her, something awful and wonderful, and sensual.  It was hotter than it was with Zan, more honest than it was with Lonnie, and ten times more overwhelming and possible than it had ever felt with Liz.  She was going to love me; she had to.  I wanted to reach out with my mind, and slap rose-tinted glasses behind her eyes, but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t use her, and if she left my life like she came into it, I would just embrace the pain.

     The pale girl with long dark lashes sat back on her heels.  She looked a little stunned.  I pushed my self into a sitting position, pulling down my cropped shirt that had ridden up during the few hours I had slept.  I didn’t want to come on too strong and scare her off.  I didn’t want to flaunt myself like a cheap whore.  I know my outfit didn’t help, but I wanted her to see me as someone special.  I wanted her to see me, the way Liz did, and not just see my clothes or my piercings, or the fact all my friends and family are gone and I’m sleeping in a warehouse all alone.  Why is she here?  She’s not sleeping in a warehouse.

     “Are you all right?” she whispered to me.  She felt it too.  There’s something in this room that makes me want to hush, to keep quiet, “I’m here to help you.”

     Wait, what?  How did she know I was here?  Why is she going to help me?  What’s going on?  Does she know about me?  Is she from the FBI?  Is she against them?

     “Who are you?”  I hiss, propelling myself backwards.  She looks at me like one would look at a frightened kitten.

     “Don’t run away… I’m not going to hurt you?”

     “Then who are you?  Why are you here?”  I don’t want her condescention.

     “I’m Paige.”

     Paige, I smiled staring down at my bare stomach, it reminded me of boys in pageboy haircuts, knights and castles and wizards.  All these things that can’t possibly be real and Rath cruelly teased me for daydreaming about and beat me up when ever he found me reading.  He beat me up so many times, but she had skin like a princess should have, completely sheltered like she’d been locked in a tower all her life, and I wanted to rescue her.

     “I’m a Social Worker.”  That phrase frightened the hell out of me.  Combined with ‘I’m here to help you,’ it’s surely bad news.

     “I’m okay.”  I turned away, trying to stand.  She reached out and touches my arm.  She’s fucking here to rescue me!  I want to be there for her.  With the touch, skin on skin, something crackles between us.  I have to do this.  I don’t care if she’s a stupid social worker.  I have to see if it’s real.  I can deal with her rejection.  She won’t do it; I have to.  It’s all one move, so fast she doesn’t have time to pull away.  My arm goes around her, pulling her into me.  My other hand goes to her face, guiding her lips to mine.  I’m kissing her shocked passive lips and there’s nothing; I was stupid; imagining destiny like my counterpart did too often, unable to see the love that was there.  But… she’s not pulling away.  Her lips are moving against mine, she’s kissing me back… I love her, I can’t believe I just thought that, oh goddess… a car, anger, flashing white light, confusion, pain, an explosion, fear, overwhelming pain-loss-guilt… two sisters, missing a third, unwanted, untrusted, unworthy, so lonely…

     I let her go.  She stared at me and reached slowly up and touched her mouth.

     “Who are you…?”


Continue to Chapter 2

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