I'm Not From Earth - 21. Twenty One

t w e n t y o n e

Harsh light of the sun stole through Rover's eyelids, illuminating his dreams in a bright red flare. He felt heavy. His limbs were sore and his muscles stiff, but a peculiar sensation had him squirming and sighing with content. It took him a moment to register that they were hands running gently through his scalp, massaging out his headache; rousing him to wake. He cracked his eyes open, and found himself nose to nose with Slade.

He was so close, everything but his eyes were out of focus. Rover was no longer drowsy. He was entranced in spells more powerful than the weak holds of slumber, none of which Rover was sure of, for he was suddenly breathless. From this distance, Slade's eyes seemed to hide nothing. The emerald pools were flooded with both the outside light and the hindering glow from within his soul. Was that a spark of anger? Amusement? Mockery? Happiness? Desire? Or was it not anything at all, and Slade was simply just staring?

"Uhm." Rover swallowed hard, willing his throat to work. "Good morning."

Slade continued to be silent and still excepting his soft hands which continued trace the root's of Rover's hair. After a moment, he sat up, flashed a dimpled smile, and said, "good afternoon to you too, sir."

"Afternoon?" Rover shot a look outside -- a viable excuse to break eye contact -- and asked, "how long have I been sleeping?"

"A little longer than me," Slade replied, reaching for his watch. "Which means you've missed breakfast, a possible brunch, lunch... and you're an hour early for dinner."

"... Damn!"

Slade frowned. "You have to get back home?"

"Yeah, I do. I mean, no. I have to get to Somerset." And then before Slade could ask any more questions, Rover jumped out of bed and headed towards the stairs, in search for a bathroom.

"By the way," Slade called after him, "you look good in pink."

Rover was glad that he was not in his friend's line of vision, for an embarrassingly idiotic half grin and half scowl had taken possession of his features.

When he had cleaned up, Slade threw him a T-shirt and sweatpants, then laughed when he realized the clothes were far too big for Rover.

Although Rover dressed and ate, his host seemed inclined to do neither. It was the not-dressing part that truly bothered him, for he had trouble eating when Slade had nothing on but a pair of loose boxers. He couldn't help but stare.

Being in a football team allowed Rover frequent glimpses to great bodies in the locker room, but those past visions dulled dramatically when compared to Slade's. It seemed as if he had not a single strip of fat on him, so impossibly carved his physique was. Without a shirt, his body was a stunning study of light and shadow; the split angles of his chest, the hills and planes of his shoulders and long arms, the hard cords of his tapered waist. Everything about him hinted the sheer, inhumane strength of his musculature -- even the way that he moved. It was evident in the way that he took his fluid footsteps, in the way that he inclined his streamlined jaw, and in the way that he twisted around to scratch a spot on his back.

Rover lifted his glass of milk and scowled at it, knowing that he probably drooled more than he drank.

"Are you ready to go?"

Rover nodded, looking up. "Uhm, yeah. Have you seen my cell phone anywhere?"

Slade blinked, then flushed, the sudden hue brightening his pearly complexion. "Well," he said slowly, "you see, Rover, last night... when I walked out on you, I was so mad that I decided to, uh, take it from you..."

"You picked my pocket," Rover repeated flatly.

Slade laughed nervously. "Yes, uh, I guess you could say that. And it ended up -- I really don't know where it ended up. But I didn't smash it or anything. So, I'll return it to you when I find it. And," he pressed on as Rover's scowl became a murderous look, "you can borrow mine for the time being. I'm really sorry." He reached to the kitchen cabinets and produced a Nokia.

Rover took it and flipped it open, grumbling to himself, and punched in Somerset's number. He listened as it rang twice, before the throaty voice answered.

"Yoh?"

"Hey uhm, Sett, it's Rover."

He winced as Somerset's voice escalated to a shout. "Dude where the fuck are you! I didn't even realize that you were gone until this morning. I'm still over at George's right now. You know how fucking worried I am?"

"You didn't call my father, did you?"

"Yeah, man, I just asked him where you were."

Rover winced again as his friend dropped his sarcastic tone and yelled louder still. "What do you think I am? An idiot? Of course I didn't call your dad, you fucking numbskull. I helped you move out for fuck's sake! And here I'm all fucking worried 'cause I thought you were home, getting your ass kicked!"

An intake of breath from Somerset, in which Rover bit back an angry retort to the comment.

"Are you going to tell me where you are?"

"I'm just over at a friend's house. I couldn't stand the smoke."

The static crackle filled the pause over the phone, and Rover was prepared to pull the phone away if Somerset shouted again, but instead his voice fell to an apologetic groan.

"Dude, I'm sorry," he said. "I knew that you didn't like the smoke... and I sorta lost you as we walked into the party, and just, jeez, I'm sorry. When and where can I meet up with you? You're still going to live with me at George's for awhile right?"

"Yeah, I am," Rover said, in a tone that wasn't supposed to sound as exasperated as it was.

"I can always ask one of the guys if they could let you --"

"Seriously, it's fine. I'll meet you in about an hour or two, depends how tall this mountain is. Just stay at where you are and I'll call you when I'm there, Sett."

"Mountain? What, did you get kidnapped by the Sasquatch or something?"

"If only I was that hairy," Slade commented.

"He's far from a Sasquatch," Rover said into the phone without thinking, then quickly said, "anyways, uhm, see you."

"Hurry up--"

Rover snapped the phone shut, breathing in deeply, and sank back in his chair.

"Wow," Slade commented, an eyebrow raised, "and I thought you were an angry kid." He had clearly heard the whole conversation.

"I've never heard him that pissed," Rover admitted, a little confused. He thought about the second night spent at Somerset's, then said uncertainly, "Sett's usually a very uhm, couldn't-care-less type of guy."

"Well he must care about you a lot then."

Rover thought about that for a second. That was true. Somerset had recently become more unbearable because, well, he really did care about him a lot. That was why Rover had fallen for him in the first place, of course, besides the fact that he was the hottest thing on the football team. But those feelings were long fading, and they seemed to have vanished completely ever since he met...

"Slade," Rover said, shrugging off his thoughts, "can we like, leave now?"

"Yes sir," Slade said, flashing a grin, "just lemme get my pants."

Never! Rover roared inwardly.

It was around seven, but the summer sun persisted to stay high in the sky, brightening everything in the side of the clearing. Even from the front door, Rover could see the crater, a distance away from him though it was. Slade and Rover exchanged a single look before making their way down. When they reached the edge, Rover was speechless at the change. The bottom of the crater had given away, and in place was a gigantic hole. A speck of gleaming scarlet rested in the centre of the abyss, a hint of an underground ocean of magma.

And the ship was nowhere to be seen.

"It's really all gone," Rover said, biting his lip.

"Yeah," Slade wrinkled his nose. "But let's not get sentimental here. How fast did you say you needed to get to George's?"

"An hour," Rover said.

A mischievous grin lightened Slade's face, and he caught both of Rover's hands and pressed them against his chest, trapping him.

"Alright," he huffed, turning around and yanking a kicking Rover onto his back. "An hour it is."

"What are you doing --"

"Helping you get to Somerset," Slade said innocently, then added, "fast. If we were to walk at your pace, we'd reach the bottom of this thing at the morning of tomorrow."

"Let me down," Rover protested, struggling to get off, "I've had enough of all that falling... and crashing."

"I'll try my best to give you a professional landing this time, sir."

And before Rover could say another word, Slade took off running. He pumped his legs to an impossible speed as they tore down the steep clearing.

The rush hit Rover full in the face, drowning out any possibility of screaming. Slade's footfalls were powerful, the violent bounds jarring Rover. The clearing was soon gone and they were in the forest. Trees whipped past as blurs of brown and dappled green. And just when Rover thought he was going to pass out from thinking they were going to crash about a billion times, the forest thinned out and in front of them swept a massive trench gouged deep into the earth. It's jagged edges were dry and baked free from vegetation; the cruel jaws of a dragon.

And they were heading straight for it.

"Slade!!"

"Just calm down."

"Why the fu--"

Rover's hands were pulled underneath Slade's arms, and with a force that shook the leaves from the trees, they shot off from the ground.

They escalated fast. More gracefully than any human or animal, and faster than any bird or predator of the air.

It was too fast for Rover's liking, but when he dared crack an eye open, he realized the lurching speed didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. Nor did the dreadful feeling in his stomach, the sheer height that they were suspended at, or the harsh pressure that threatened to tear him from his friend's back. As a matter of fact, nothing really bothered Rover when he finally worked up the gut to take a generous look at what surrounded him.

In his vision swam a beautiful world, spinning wildly below. It was the visage of his forest, and places he had been to before, but from such a distance from the ground, everything looked different. Colours were sharp and clear, the details blurred and strangely surreal. He could see the emerald tops of the trees sway like ancient dancers reveling in the encompassing wind and the gaping crater shrink into a tiny button of black. He could see his home city in all its industrial glory; a bowl of glittering greys and whites, trails of white smoke that were spiraling like floating lace, framed by the faraway mountains of green, blue, and violet. The clock tower from his old church glinted like a iridescent spear of lead; the lake near downtown a glowing sheet of beaten silver, faint and trembling in the smoldering heat of the day. A pigeon swerved to avoid their path, its white form fluttering downwards.

This was like flying.

This, Rover thought, his heart encompassed with joy, was living! This was freedom, and peace, a respite from his troubles; his temporary but priceless emancipation. Slade inclined his head back, and Rover met his broad smile with effusive wonder in his blue eyes.

He felt like they could take on anything in the world.

"Told you I'm a superhero," Slade yelled smugly, then angled their path to land on the other side.

They dropped steeply as gravity took its toll, and Rover braced himself as the brittle cliff ahead loomed closer. Any second now. Slade gripped Rover tighter, threw out a powerful leg forwards, meaning to hit the rock so as to halt their progression... and missed.

Their trajectory shifted. They fell straight downwards, and then they hit the river.

Rude, Rover thought wildly as the water rush violently engulfed him. A sting throbbed where Slade's body didn't shield him from the harsh impact. They floated around for a few seconds before they both kicked their way up, sputtering as they hit the surface.

"Well," Slade began, brushing aside his drenched hair. "We did cover quite a distance --"

"Before you missed and we uhm, professionally crash-landed," Rover spat with a snarl, breathless.

"We landed in the water. That's not crash landing."

"We crashed into this river." Rover slapped an arm on the surface of the water for effect, then added bitterly, "and it's not flying if you don't have wings!"

"It's close enough," Slade pressed. "I'll bet you half of the superheroes can't do that."

Rover took a moment to cough out the water he swallowed, then said promptly, "you still can't dodge bullets."

Slade grinned in return, the smile sparking up a playful glint in his eyes. Unintentionally sexy. "Want me to prove you wrong on that?" Then he frowned, his expression locked in thought, and said, "I think I jumped a bit too high this time."

"... A bit, huh?!"

When they reached the shore, Rover crawled to the nearest tree and flopped down, twisting out the water from his shirt. Slade removed his, and had tilted his head to the side and was pounding on it furiously. Spouts of water fell from his ears, and Rover laughed at the comical sight until he fell over.

Dripping wet but otherwise in high spirits, they scaled the trench, and continued to make their way down the rest of the forest. Slade refrained from offering any more rides, and Rover was content in continuing their snail pace. The afternoon sun soon dipped its way towards the horizon, lighting clouds in plumes of molten fire, outlining high branches and leaves in strokes of shining gold. Staring forwards trough the trees, Rover felt like he was stepping into the pages of an ancient storybook. He had crawled out from the rabbit hole and was walking down a mysterious trail.

"Do you think," Rover asked at one point, thinking back at the hand imprint on the crystal ball, "that the people from your... planet, have five fingers?"

Slade pulled a bewildered expression. "Speaking on the behalf of the people from my planet, I have eight fingers and two thumbs." He counted them aloud. "So where did you get that idea?"

Rover scowled, and said, "five... appendages on each hand then. And I mean, you're from another planet and all, and I just find it weird that you would look so similar to us..."

"Humans?"

"Yeah. Humans."

Slade thought about it for a second. "I could be a shape shifter."

Rover froze, the idea sinking in. "Are you really?" He asked, truly horrified at the prospect.

"My good looks are too perfect to be true, heh?"

When Rover still stood staring, Slade rolled his eyes in very obvious exasperation and said, "Rover please. My face and body are all natural, so just calm down. I'm not going to go all Species on you... or you'd already be dead." He mumbled something about being stupidly gullible, in which Rover promptly backhanded him in response, only to realize it probably hurt himself more than it hurt Slade.

They continued their conversation and debates for awhile before stopping to watch as darkness fell. Although only bits and pieces of the sky were visible through the trees, Rover could see the vast stretches of twinkling constellations, and the buildings that were caressed by the gentle twilight. A faint comet -- he wasn't sure which one -- trailed through the East, its white tail the only sign to hint its motion.

Then the spell halted when Slade asked something completely out of the blue.

"How did you get the bruises on your back?" He asked, very casually.

The last few falls had damaged Rover quite a bit, so he wasn't sure which bruises his friend meant. Rover continued his confused brooding before Slade clarified his question.

"I noticed them as I was patching you up."

It took Rover a few seconds to let the full weight of the words sink in. With a pounding heart, his brain geared immediately into the defensive.

"Uhm, it's nothing, really," Rover said, choosing his words carefully.

"You can tell me."

A few seconds passed before Rover said, a little too firmly, "football."

Slade shot back, very smoothly, "you get beaten up in football?"

Rover could have talked his way out of it, but something about letting Slade know scared him beyond comprehension. What would Slade think if he knew what went on at home? That was too much of a thought to bear. Like a cornered wolf, Rover stopped dead in his tracks and glared, his vision shaking slightly from the effort. He barely held his panic and fury suppressed.

"What the hell do you want?" He growled, wishing he had the courage to ask, would you care if I told you?

Slade continued to walk for a few steps, but then he halted as well.

"I just want you to know," he said slowly, his words quiet, "that there are some things that you can run away from, and others things that you can't. But for whatever demons you have to face -- Rover, know that I'll always be there if you need me."

The shadows were dark enough that Slade's face was not visible, but Rover could still feel his eyes on him. Eyes that one could stare into for hours of a time. Eyes that seemed indecisive in hiding everything, or nothing. Searching him, understanding him; as beseeching as it was inviting. They implored and offered that strong shoulder for Rover to lean on. All he had to do was walk up and collapse in Slade's strong arms and pour out his life's frustrations through the dormant tears within. Yet as much as every part of Rover longed to do so, he couldn't find a thimbleful of courage to take a single step forward.

Before he could attempt to utter another word, Slade had turned around and jogged back up the mountain without a backward glance. A friendly hunter of the night.

Rover walked on for awhile, torn in his indecisiveness to scream or to sit down and cradle his head and do nothing but give himself time to think, before he realized that the forest had already ended, and that he was facing the back of George's house. He reached into his pocket for Slade's cell, then froze.

Figures rose from the sides of the tree trunks.

Rover had barely time to turn around before his arms were locked in a viced grip. A blindfold tightened around his head, and a gag cut into the sides of his mouth when he tried to scream. Muffled, cold voices. He was lifted off his feet. Thrown roughly. A thump of closing doors.

The familiar smell of limousine leather.

*