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The Promise that Love Could be Eternal

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The cold night air rips through the material of her shirt, making her arms feel numb. She shouldn’t have removed her jacket, before sitting down with an evil alien. Then she could at least be warm while being pinned to the car, her hands shaking trying to break the psychic hold he has on her body.

“Thank you for bringing me my sword,” he says smoothly. His voice is different than Max’s, more like velvet than a drawl.

“That's why the drug didn't work,” Michael says eyes wild. “He's not an ordinary alien. You're the Dictator. Aren't you?” There is a sneer on his face, one that Liz has never seen before. Hatred seeming to coil off him in waves.

“Well, I'd say it's time for a coup,” Isobel says.

“You really think the little girl who was so easily manipulated by Noah Bracken...” Jones chuckles. He is cruel, Liz thinks, it really should have been simple to see he wasn’t Max. A darkness lies inside the person standing in front of her, one Max couldn’t compete against after resurrecting Rosa.

“One of the weakest on our planet...” Jones shakes his head. “Stands any chance against my power?”

“Sticks and stones,” Isobel shrugs before throwing her hands up.

Whatever power she summoned manages to tousle Jones hair, or it could just be the night air.

“Oh, that may have worked before,” Jones smiles his teeth razor sharp. “But now, in this century, what do you say, uh, you're screwed.”

Liz watches as he taps the sword held in his hands, the alien glass glowing bright in the darkness. “See, this isn't just an extension of my will, this is a reservoir for my power. Turning three against one into an army against three.”

“Really elevating to a new level of supreme ass-“ Michael is cut off falling abruptly to his knees. Followed by Isobel.

“Sit down, and show some respect for your father,” Jones chuckles, “son.” His abilities holding them both in place, on their knees as if they are bowing to him.

“How many people did you kill to get that power?” Isobel spits at him.

“Well, start counting the stars, darling. I'll tell you when to stop,” Jones says arms spread wide.

Liz struggles against his hold, eyes darting between Jones and her friends pinned to the ground. Both of them crying out in pain as Jones flips a switch on the power he is applying, short of breath, like he is squeezing the air out of them.

“Now what to do with you three?” Jones sing songs.

“You let us go,” Liz calls. Trying to put as much force into her voice as possible.

He turns back to her eyebrow raised, waiting.

“Your arrogance does not cover your cracks,” Liz manages tears still falling down her face. “You need something from me. And if you hurt them, I will never give it to you.”

He stills, head cocking slightly to the side. Eyes roaming back up and down her body, like she is an interesting insect that landed on his hand.

“And what makes you think I need something from you?” It’s soft, almost as gentle as Max would have said it.

Liz gulps, “you went through an awful lot of trouble today to get me behind a microscope. You couldn't resist testing what I know.” She watches as something shifts behind his eyes, a confirmation of sorts, letting her push forward.

“You need Max's body,” she pulls at the invisible restraints at her wrists. “And if you're curious about severing connections, then I think you want to be more than just a guest inside of it.”

He stares at her for a moment, a connection seemingly bonding them together. The print on her chest burns as his powers release her, dropping her the inch or so it takes for her to be standing upright.

“Maybe you're not as smart as you think,” Jones shrugs casually. But his release of her was more than enough confirmation.

“I'm as smart as you are confident,” she smiles wickedly at him. Because two could play his game of chess. “And I'm pretty confident you've figured out that there aren't a lot of alien scientists. You're gonna need me.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But I certainly don't need to keep them alive to make you do what I say.”

Liz feels her stomach flip, as he turns back to her friends. His powers making Michael and Isobel scream out in pain.

“No,” Liz pants. “Stop! Please.”

She jumps at the harsh ringing of the gun going off, Jones body being pushed back. His hold releasing, Michael and Isobel’s bodies relaxing their breaths coming more even.

“It's gonna take more than a spindly drug addict with a pop gun to stop me,” Jones sneers.

“Then how about the sheriff and the full-force Roswell PD?” Rosa says gun still aimed at Jones’ chest.

Liz has never felt relief and terror in such force before, her sister saved them but is now in Jones’ direct line of fire. Staring him down with a quirk to her eyebrow nonetheless, challenging him head on.

“Fine,” he shrugs with a smirk. Hand going out to lead a trail of fire to the car, everyone ducking for cover.

Liz’s breath being knocked out of her as Jones’ powers wrap around her wrists pulling her flush to his body. The cool glass of his sword resting against her bare throat.

“Now we are going to leave,” Jones says smoothly. “Elizabeth here bartered for your lives after all.”

“No,” Rosa grits aiming the shotgun at them.

“Rosa,” Isobel puts a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t have a choice.”

Liz nods to them, “it’s alright. I’ll be safe.”

A chuckle resounds next to her ear, deep and disturbing. “Safe is an interesting word darlin’,” he mutters next to her ear.