#most ponies are gullible as shit when it comes to those brothers right

[superkirbylover]

Normal peppino: Oh, I-a really don't want to-a fight, I have a business to-a run!

Pony peppino:

KILL MAIM BURN

LMAO

to be fair though i think both of them are both of these. idealy they don't want to fight people because they have a business to run, but push come to shove, if their business is threatened they WILL kill for it

in this essay this will serve as the basis as for why pony peppino absolutely despises the flim flam brothers

[angsty-nerd]

Fictober #31

#31.  “Scared? Me?”

Roswell, NM Fanfiction

Gen, slight Echo.  Isobel, Michael, Liz...Noah & Max mentioned.

Also for RIPRoswell, with the “haunting” theme for today!

*takes a bow*. Below the cut for length!

Isobel hated that she still thought about him sometimes.

She didn't want to.  She definitely didn't want him.  But he had spent so many years twisting his way into her subconscious, into her life, into her heart that no matter how much she hated him now, she couldn't quite fully forget him.

It made her want to scream and throw things.

It made her want to blow shit up.

She tried to expel her rage through self defense classes, by trying to grow strong.  She tried learning new alien abilities to feel powerful.

But he was still there, tickling in the back of her mind, telling her that she was weak, gullible, that she would always be his plaything.

She clears their home out, removing everything that reminds her of him.  It was all fake anyway. The Noah who lived as her husband was the lie, which should make him easier to erase.  

The monster who killed Rosa was the real Noah. He belonged in that cave out in the desert.  He deserved the cold, damp darkness.  He should have been trapped underground with the corpse of his own making.  He deserved to be buried. That monster never lived with her in her home and he never would.

Spring was coming and as the weather warmed it reminded her of her husband...of picnics in the town square, of their huge wedding in the big church with the whole town in attendance.  Spring had too many memories. Spring meant that it was time to exorcise him from her life for good.

She made her way to the monster’s cave for the first time in months.  She hated everything about that place. Not only was it the monster's home, it was a symbol of her husband's lies.  Not to mention it was the place where her brother had died.  

She would be lying if she didn't admit that she hated that last bit the most about the cave.  It had taken her brother away from her. She wanted it to burn.

It hadn't really changed in the months since Max had died.  Rosa's weird shrine still dominated the walls of the cave, and the sad, broken pod was still the largest object in the room.  Anything alien, or anything they thought might be useful was collected and taken away with them on the day that Max died.

Isobel looked at the ground and her memory flashed back to that day, to running into the cave...the sight of Max lying dead on the ground, Liz with her face buried in his chest as she sobbed, agonized.  Rosa in the corner, a blanket wrapped around her tiny frame, so confused about what was going on.

He caused all of this.

As the anger surged inside of her, she felt her power building alongside it, and this was it.  It was time to bury him.

She shot her hand forward and narrowed her eyes, focusing all of her energy onto the monster's pod.  With a mental thrust she shoved her destructive power at it, and the pod exploded, bits of its flesh-like membrane flying in every direction.

Isobel laughed, shouting at the air around hed. "Scared? Me? Ha! I'm not afraid of you anymore!"

She threw her power at the candles surrounding pictures of Rosa, satisfied to watch them fly through the air, smashing against the jagged edges of the rocks.

The rocks themselves now drew her attention. They had no business existing in this horrible place either, so she blew them up too.  Rock flew in every direction, and she felt stinging pain, as the debris scratched her face, her arms, her neck, even her clothes. She tasted blood, as a scratch above her lip dripped towards her mouth.

Her breath heaved from the effort of all of the destruction that she wreaked on this place that the monster had considered sacred.  She smiled, as she surveyed her damage.

"You see!" She shouted into the air. "See what I can do to you!! You don't own me anymore!  I'm free, and I'm powerful, and I don't need you!"

Her voice cracked on the last word and she fell to the ground, still breathing heavily.  Her eyes stung, but she bit back the tears. He didn't deserve them.  

She placed her palm flat on the earth, in the dust, on the spot where Max had died.  A sharp pain cut through her again as the image of her dead brother's body flashed through her mind once more.  

Isobel gathered a handful of dust in in her fist.  She raised it up to eye level and then slowly allowed it to slide free, between her fingers, raining back down to the earth.  She gasped, as the falling dust started swirling in a beautiful pattern, not dissimilar to a tiny, gentle tornado.  

There was no wind in the cave.  The air was still.

When her hand was empty, she tried reaching out with her mind, hoping to sense another presence in the cave with her.  For a moment she thought she felt a whisper...but no, there was nothing there. Unsure what else to do, she scattered another fistful of dust.  Again, it moved into a windless pattern.

Isobel placed her hand back down on the earth and reached out with her mind, trying to sense who or what might be there with her.  There was no response, other than a tiny shockwave that extended from her hand...but not from her power.  

"Hello?" She whispered into the air.

There was only silence in response.

Somehow though, Isobel knew that it couldn't be Noah. Whatever was out there seemed like it was just trying to catch her attention...maybe tell her that she wasn't alone even though she felt that way.  There was a comfort to the presence.

Really, she realized, it reminded her of…

"Max?" She whispered aloud.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael laughed as he tasted blood, his split lip already beginning to ache.  He didn't give a damn though. Pain was good. Pain reminded him of who he was.  Pain helped him remember that he was still alive even if-

No.  None of that.

Staggering back into the Pony, his eye bruised, knuckles bloody, and that damn lip, which was gonna hurt like hell on his next drink...but he suddenly found himself face to face with a very annoyed Maria.

"All taken care of, DeLuca.  The racist son of a bitch won't be coming in here and saying that kind of garbage to you anymore."

"That racist son of a bitch was a paying customer, Guerin. Unlike you. I actually need to keep a few of those around, you know...so that I don't lose the roof over my head?"

"I was defending your…"

"...honor, I know.  But I can handle it, Guerin.  I'm not a damsel in distress that needs saving.  Now get out of my bar. Your face is pissing me off tonight."

"Fine," Michael grumbled as he made his was back to the door. He turned back right before walking out and was pleased to see no one looking.  With a wave of his hand, a bottle of whiskey glided away from the bar, and over to him. He grabbed it with a smirk and headed for his truck.

It was too early to go home. He didn't want to think, which meant no Liz or Alex or Kyle… sighing, Michael could only think of one place to go, so he turned his truck towards the desert and headed to the pod cave.  

It was cold and dark out there by the old turquoise mines, but Michael didn't mind the cold.  Cold was just another form of pain after all. And pain was life.  

He walked haphazardly into the pod cave, feeling his way through the darkness along the rocky walls, until finally it opened up into the large cavern dimly lit by the glowing pods.

He stopped in the entrance, pulled the cork from the bottle and took a long slug of whiskey to numb the impending angst that he knew would come when he let his eyes rest on…

Yup.  There was Max.  Floating naked in his pod, his dark hair flowing in the liquid of the stasis fluid.  He looked almost comfortable, like he was asleep. Of course, it was all deception. Max hadn't moved in months.  His heart wasn't beating, he wasn't breathing. He was gone. What was floating in the pod was just an empty shell.

Michael took another long drink from the bottle and closed his eyes as the whiskey burned it's way down his pipes into his stomach.  He looked down at the bottle in his hand and poured one out for Max at the foot of his pod.

"One for me, one for you, man." He took another gulp. "Okay make that two for me."

He staggered back and forth in front of the pod, trying to clear his head.  Maybe coming here wasn't the best idea. Being here, seeing Max...now he was just drunk and angry and he couldn't leave.

"You know, Max, I am so fucking pissed at you for leaving Isobel and I here alone. It was supposed to be the three of us. And then you and Iz both forgot that.  She married that piece of shit, and you brought Liz in, who brought Valenti in, and now here we are. You're dead. And we have a herd of humans instead. But none of them are… family.  Fuck."

Michael took another long drink.  "Congrats, Max." He saluted the pod with the bottle. "You finally got me to admit that we're family."

He could feel his pace getting more and more unsteady, hear his words slurring as the whiskey went straight to his head.  

He took a turn a little too quickly and lost his balance, falling to the ground.  He laughed hysterically, lying back in the dust and staring up into the inky darkness of the rocks above.  

Rolling his head a bit to the side, he could see Max in his pod a few feet away.  He just lay there, staring at Max, his vision growing blurry as he found himself drifting closer to oblivion.

Through his lessening senses, for a moment he thought he saw Max looking at him from the pod.  He blinked, trying to clear his head, but it didn't help.  

There were footprints in the dust... were they his footprints? Or Max's?

He closed his eyes, trying to stop his head from spinning.  It didn't help. The world was on a tilt-a-whirl, and Max was crouched beside him, a worried look on his face.  

Before he passed out, Michael could swear he heard his brother say, "Get it together, Michael.  They all need you."

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was nearly midnight when Liz returned home from the lab.  Rosa was already in bed for the night, so Liz sneaked into the house quietly, trying not to wake her, as she made her way straight back to Max's bedroom.

It was cold in his room.  When he was alive it seemed like there was always a fire lit, warming every room of the house.  With Liz working all hours day and night, she never had time to make the house comfortable, especially on a long day like this one.  So instead she decided to just bundle up for warmth.

She pulled on a pair of her own sweatpants, and then dug into Max's closet until she found his red hoodie.  She slipped the sweatshirt on, zipping it up. It was much too large for her, but it was warm, and it smelled like him.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of being surrounded by the memory of him, Liz crawled into his bed, pulling the covers up around her neck, and turning her face into the pillow.  

The weight of the blankets felt warm, protective...they replicated feelings that would overwhelm her when Max would hold her.  The smell of him on the hoodie, on the blanket, his pillow...she felt surrounded by him…

But inherently she knew that she was surrounded by the memory of him.  She was still alone. And he was still dead.

One by one, tears began to slip from her eyes, flowing down her cheeks, and dripping onto the pillow surface, until there was a damp spot beneath her face.

It had been so long without him. She had been working so hard to try to bring him back, and nothing was panning out.  It was soul crushing. She was beginning to fear that she might never succeed. And all she wanted in the world was to feel Max's arms around her.

Goosebumps suddenly rose up on her arm, and she shivered at the sensation. The light tingling sensation moved from her arm, down her hand to her fingertips.  She felt it travel along her jawline, trace the shape of her lips.  

"Max…" she breathed out softly.  

She longed to hear his voice answer, but there was no sound.  Just the lightest whisper of a breeze in the air.

She sat up, searching the room for some visible sign that the sensations she was experiencing were real, weren't just a figment big her imagination.  There was nothing.

Suddenly, that strange tingling sensation returned, like an invisible hand pressed over her heart, right on the spot where Max had healed her, where he had connected with her.  She slipped a hand inside the hoodie and placed it over that same spot, and it felt like she captured whatever was there between her hand and her chest.

"It is you, isn't it?" She murmured to the empty room.  "Don't worry, I'm not giving up. I'm going to keep fighting to give you your life back.  I'm going to keep fighting for us."

~*~*~*~*~*~

He watched her sleep in the darkness, trying not to focus too much on her tear-streaked cheeks.  Watching her mourn, watching her suffer, watching her work herself to death...it was all agonizing for him.  

Her pain, Michael falling apart, Isobel's rage...he watched them all and longed to help them.  They rarely sensed his presence, but it seemed like once in a while, when things were particularly intense, he managed to get through.

He hoped those moments helped more than they hurt.

But Max believed that Liz would succeed in bringing him back.  Why else would he be here, in this state of limbo, unable to move on from the living world?

His soul was waiting to return home to them.

All he needed was for Liz to mark the path for him.