Title: Rescue Me
Author: Jinni (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling, et al. All things Roswell belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, et al.
Distribution: The normal places.
Author’s Notes: For the sake of this fic, we shall assume the following timelines run concurrent – Ginny’s seventh year and s3 of Roswell (aka, the Pod Squad’s senior year).
Summary: For houses, who guessed “my lie”.
~*~Part One (of Two)~*~
“It happened again!”
Looking up through her bangs, head bent over an article she had been trying to finish for the better part of an hour, Ginny Weasley cocked a brow at her best friend. “What’s that, Luna?”
“The silver hands, Gin! You remember, don’t you? That odd Muggle town where they worship aliens?” Luna’s wide eyes were round with excitement, wisps of blonde hair falling messily out of yo-yo string she’d used to tie it back earlier. The escaped hair only served to make the former Ravenclaw seem all the more of a loose hinge.
How could she ever forget that town, Ginny thought ruefully, though she didn’t say it aloud.
They had snuck away one cold morning during the winter hols their Seventh Year, when rightly they had been supposed to be sleeping. Sneaking into Luna’s father’s study, they had taken up the portkey for the place Luna had heard her father talking about. Their intention had been honorable, of course. Get the story about what had happened to a ward full of children at a hospital. Children that had been very, very sick.
Children that had been healed overnight, no cause determined. It was a bloody miracle, everyone proclaimed. There was just one oddity -
They had all been marked with a silver handprint.
Yet, it wasn’t the sneaking to America, all the way to some little desert town called Roswell, that made the escapade memorable to Ginny.
Nor did the little smile on her lips owe its credit to the mind-numbing amount of trouble they had both gotten into when they realized the only portkey they had to go home went straight to Hogsmeade and not the Lovegood estate, forcing them to wait for their respective parents to come pick them up.
No, Ginny Weasley owed her current trip down memory lane to one moment. A snatched hour to herself while Luna chased down a “lead.” Time she had spent in a Muggle diner…
With a rather charming young man named Kyle.
He had been… wonderful. Taking her all over town, showing her “the sites” and promising to do more if she ever came back his way again.
They had hit it off. At least, she thought so.
And the fleeting kiss he had left on her cheek right before she dashed off to meet with Luna had made her think that maybe, just maybe, his thoughts were akin to hers.
Not that it mattered. She hadn’t gone back to Roswell since that day and she was sure that someone as wonderful as Kyle was hopelessly attached to a pretty little Muggle girl. Their worlds could never truly mix, anyway, so it really was for the better.
“Gin? Did a rabid daydream sucker just get their three-fingered tentacles into you?”
That brought her back to reality, and quickly. Ginny blinked in surprise at Luna, shaking her head. Even after years of working side-by-side with the other girl, first at Hogwarts and now at the Quibbler, she still found herself shocked silly by the odd things that came out of Luna’s mouth.
“Just thinking,” she shrugged. Luna knew about Kyle, of course. It had been hard to keep the stupid grin off of her face… and that had begged for an explanation that Ginny had been all too happy to provide that day, so many years past.
“Riiight,” Luna nodded. “About a soft-spoken American Muggle that dressed like one of those boy-cows from that flick we saw last week at the Muggle cinema?”
“Cowboys,” Ginny corrected with a grin and a roll of her eyes. “And he didn’t. Not really. Except for the tight jeans and the boots… and that flannel shirt.” She bit the inside of her cheek. So he had looked sort of like a modern day cowboy. All he had needed was the hat. She blushed. “And I wasn’t thinking of him.”
Now it was Luna’s turn to roll her eyes. “Of course you weren’t. You only had the same love-struck smile you’ve had every other time you’ve been thinking of the git, Gin. He’s Muggle and American … and you’re not.”
As softly spoken and compassionate as the words were, they still made Ginny sigh a sigh of disappointment. She forced herself to smile. “Right, I know that. So – about those handprints?”
“You just had to do it again, didn’t you, el Presidente?”
Kyle was smiling as he said the words, but there was a tremor of anxiety in his stomach. They’d finally found a nice, big town to lose themselves in, somewhere the FBI hopefully would never think to look for them.
And King Max had gone and saved someone.
All on the down-low, of course. But he’d left behind that damned handprint and now it was going to be all over the place soon enough. Even now the girls were at the house they had rented, packing.
Where had Kyle found their illustrious leader when he and the Jolly Mean Giant had been forced to start looking for him?
Right back a the scene of the so-called crime.
A children’s ward.
It was always about the kids.
Hell, Kyle couldn’t fault him for it. If his powers had ended up being healing, he would probably do the same thing every chance he got. Thankfully, for everyone, his powers ran to the destructive side of things.
“Searching your favorite haunts on the East Side,” Kyle shrugged. “I, on the other hand, knew where to find you.”
“Yet you didn’t feel like sharing?” The corner of Max’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile for one brief moment.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want him hulking along, scowling and scaring all the nurses away. You never know, there’s still time for me to get some hospital lovin’ before we split town. One look at his ugly mug and all my chances would be blown to hell.”
Another smile. Sort of. At least whatever had gotten Max in a deep blue funk seemed to be lifting. He’d asked Lizzie about it and damn if she had the slightest clue what was going on in her alien hubby’s head. Sometimes Max just got… weird.
Or, weirder as the case was.
“You’re taking this awfully well.”
Kyle snorted. “If by that you mean I’m not threatening your life like the Packing Nazi, then think what you want. Don’t think for one second that I’m happy to be uprooted all over again, though.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Kyle sighed. Loudly. He looked toward the open doors of the childrens’ ward, at the kids that were in there playing. Most of them had been bed-ridden the day before. But Max had changed all of that with a little of the good old Antarian laying of hands. He couldn’t fault him for that, no matter how much it screwed everything up. Again. “You saved those kids and that’s great. Really.”
There was a “but” in there, however Kyle didn’t voice it because King Max already knew. It was the same “but” that came up every so often, from one or another of their merry band of misfits. He wanted what they all wanted. A chance to settle down and lead a normal life, without having to worry about running from the FBI. Being on the run had been fun for a little while – all of a week or two, in fact – but after a few years it had gotten old.
Max smiled that infuriatingly subtle little smile of his and nodded. “I should go help the girls.”
Damn it, he didn’t want to pack. Again.
But Kyle forced himself to nod anyway. “You do that. I just want to make the rounds of the nurses again.”
Minutes later he was alone, Max wandering off down the hall. Alone, except not. Friends and relatives of the children in the ward were coming and going in a steady stream. He was surrounded by people and yet…
… he was alone.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, hooking his thumbs over the top, and let his eyes just roam. A mother here, a sister there – they were all elated. They didn’t care how it had happened, only that their loved one wasn’t sick anymore.
If they knew that it was all because of one man… one would-be king of an alien planet sent here to just… live.
Would they still be thrilled or would they try to do what they all lived in fear of? Even him, with DNA forever altered thanks to Max’s healing when he was at the very verge of death.
He turned, stopping as a flash of red hair shimmered in the corner of his eye. Not the dyed red that came from a bottle, but the genuine bright fire-engine red of natural beauty. It made his stomach clench, then roll. He’d known a girl once with hair that color. She’d been different in her own way, he’d known from the second he met her. Innocent and guileless, though. Not a threat to him or the others.
And she’d only been in Roswell for one day. Sight-seeing with a friend.
He turned, knowing even as he did that it was a silly hope to think that she would be there, of all places. She lived in Europe, he reminded himself. And there just weren’t enough good coincidences in the world for the two of them to ever run into each other again.
Still, he turned…
… and felt his mouth drop open in shock.
She was looking right at him.
And it was the same girl from all those years before.
Quick as lightning, emotions races through Kyle. They shifted like quicksilver. Excitement. Happiness. Anxiety. Finally… fear.
This was way too coincidental.
What the hell was she doing here, of all places?
~*~End Part One~*~