Disclaimer: Okay, this is an odd one...not RE, but not regular Roswell. It's a sequel to Danilise's really awesome stories that start with "Decisions" and end with "Stars" (so far), and she's let my play around in her borrowed world some. As always, nothing Roswell-related belongs to me *pout*, but Mr. Raddish is copyrighted by Kara and Emily, just because we're weird. :)

James Raddish sighed as he took his old place in room 5A at Roswell Elementary. It had been a very long time since he last stood here--nearly twenty-five years since his breakdown. Twenty-five years spent in California, teaching high school, as far from aliens and a certain hellion duo as he could get. But Roswell Elementary needed a fifth grade teacher at the last minute, and Sylvia missed the town they'd both grown up in...

And times had changed. The classroom seemed lighter and cleaner, and computer terminals sat at every desk. But the old wood of the teacher's podium was still the same, and he could still detect a faint smell of chalkdust in the air.

As the students filed in, he wondered who these children would be, and if there were any possible famous scientists among them. Even now, he heard the name "Dr. Elizabeth Evans" pop up occasionally, renowned for her research in microcellular biology. And oddly enough, the name was often paired with Dr. Max Evans, specializing in childhood diseases. He wondered, if the childhood pairings he had seen in their naissance had finally come to full growth.

At the last minute, a small blond dynamo charged in, her flyaway curls sticking up everywhere. Instead of the neat dresses that her classmates wore, she was dressed in jeans and a nice blouse with a blue paint stain on one elbow. There was something familiar about this little terror. Something about the way she danced around the room to her own inner music...

He'd seen her around town before--just a week ago, actually, with an older dark-haired girl. The dark-haired girl had been very familiar too--something about the set of her dark eyes and the way her straight hair was pushed back from ears that stuck out a bit. That girl looked like the ideal student, much like Liz Parker had years ago. He wondered if that eye problem of young Liz's had ever cleared up...

A sturdy brown-haired boy took the seat behind Tinkerbell and poked her. "Stop it, Jamie!" And she gave him a fierce glare. The brown-haired boy only gave her a too familiar smirk, his blue eyes full of mischief. Oh no, it couldn't be another pair. He waited for one of them to call another cheesehead, and began to plan his second retirement...

But then the blond girl turned forward, and he got a good look at her face. There was something about the cheeky smile and dancing dark eyes that was incredibly familiar--too familiar...almost as if...

Frantically, he scanned the roll-sheet. No DeLuca, No Evans...but right under Cohen, Amanda, was a name he learned to fear 25 years before.

Guerin, Nicole M.

"Guerin." The blond looked straight at him. "Guerin. Your mother...what's your mother's name?" It could be another Guerin, couldn't it? The chances were so slim--or whatever God in heaven was having a hilarious time, laughing his butt off.

And the blond smiled prettily, a smile he remembered well from 1994. "Maria DeLuca, sir."

And the boy behind her snickered. "Your grandma runs the alien shop."

She turned around and bopped him on the head. "Your grandpa dates my grandma sometimes, so shut up, Bug-eyes Valenti."

Sheriff Valenti's grandson. Kyle Valenti's son. Could the world get any worse?

He whimpered softly. Just eight more months. Eight more months until he could retire, and never face a Guerin, or an Evans, or a Parker, or a Valenti, or a Whitman again.

Back to Area 51 (Section II)