Rivers Run Deep

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to Predator El, other unrelated human characters, and the character names of the predators Imade up, the concept of predator do not belong to me.



Authors Notes: This is a work of Fan fiction. please read on and enjoy.



WARNING: The following work of fiction contains, extream violence, course language (at times), sexual sudgestions, nudety, and explicit sex. If you are
under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR
BACK BROWSER BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please
don't offend yourself by reading further.



Author: Charlotte (jemstone5)

Email: jemstone5

Feedback: Please, yes lots.

Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.

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Rivers Run Deep



Chapter 17



Mr. Com loaded the last of the glasses in the dishwasher, and inspected the soup pot on the stove. “How are they doing?” Ralph asked, setting the mail now on the counter, and seeing his friend hard at work in the kitchen.


“Crying,” he said. “I think it is best for her, though for him, I’m not sure.”


“Do you think he could be like, those science fiction aliens…you know…the ones who can read your mind? Maybe he’s picked up on something, or maybe read deeper in her mind to find out what happened.”


“No,” he replied, putting celery and carrots into the pot. “If that were so, he would have read our minds as well, I don’t know about you, but my past is not as respectable as I would like it to be.”


“I know what you mean, I was quite the skirt chaser in my youth. If he’d found out, I’m sure his scales would turn pink.” Ralph stirred the pot, as his friend took a look through the mail. Ralph often went to his home as well and picked up any mail left for him. He didn’t want to leave just yet, El needed them still. “Still, I wonder what happened up there. On the bluff I mean. One minute they’re trying to kill each other, the next, he’s saving her life. What gives?”


“They did,” Mr. Com surmised, putting the junk mail aside. “Perhaps he was in as much pain as she, and hid it as she had done. Sometimes it takes you seeing your own pain reflected from someone else’s eyes, for you to realize, you’re in pain as well. I’d heard of it. I’ve never witnessed it, but I’ve read about such things.”


“Is that all you do? Read?”


“Of course, I don’t have cable.”


The pair gave a slight chuckle, but their thoughts once more turned to the pair upstairs. Ralph was the one who spoke the question on both their minds. “I wonder what happened to him to make him that way?”


“He lost his wife and child.”


The par turned to see El, hobbling into the kitchen, supported on her right by the alien. The alien, whom Ralph had nick named Tusk, had his four tusks stretched out, and was gasping in the air around him. The two men quickly went around and closed all the blinds, and doors. A note on the main door read “Closed For Personal Reasons” to ensure that no one came in to eat, and heard the horrific howls coming from upstairs. Ralph returned to find the alien had placed El up on the counter, and was busy intently scrutinizing the pot on the stove. “Sorry about that,” Ralph said, bringing over a stool and helped El ease her left leg onto the top to support it. “What did you say? About him?”


“We were talking, upstairs, drawing pictures. Stick figures. He understood when I showed him what happened to my family. I burned the paper, tearing out the little figure of me.”


“Is that why there was smoke in your room?” Mr. Com asked, coming back from the back of the house. “I took them drinks earlier, that’s when I smelled it.”


“Yeah. He understood. Then he drew the same stuff, a figure for himself, and one for his wife. She was pregnant, just like mom. She died, the baby too.”


“Poor fellow.”


“He must have really loved her,” she sighed, watching the alien poke the large spoon into the pot. “Then he could smell the drinks you left us. We shared them, and we just looked at each other for a while. Then he started huffing like he was a moment ago. I think that’s how he smells the air around him. He couldn’t wait to get down here, but I wouldn’t let him come without me.”


“Wise decision,” Mr. Com eased, inspecting the bandages on her legs. “How does your left leg feel?”


“It’s killing me, but it's ok. I’ll never do gymnastics again. I can’t put any weight on it now, and I won’t be able to complete my training with you.”


“Don’t worry about that.”


“Mr. Com, about your former students…”


“Don’t worry about them either. They admit they got in a little over their heads, but they are pleased that you are doing better.”


“I don’t totally remember what happened, but I do know, they were the ones who caused the injuries. Though I have to admit, I think I put Tommy in a coma.”


“No, Tommy’s head is harder than that. They’re ok.” The old man had to chuckle as he remembered Tommy trying to explain how they went about making her as mad as she was to get her to fight, through the wires the doctors had tied in his teeth to keep his jaw shut to heal. Though he was regretful of unsheathing his blades. “You’re friend must be hungry.” He went over to the pot, and gently pushed the 7 foot 5 alien aside. “Here, take bowl…” he handed the alien a standard soup bowl, and ladled out some of the soup. “The carrots and celery will still be hard, I just put them in.” he then waved the alien away. “Go, eat.” But Ver’On merely gave the small bowl to El, and looked around on the shelves. Above was a stack of mixing bowls, he took them down, and took out the second smallest bowl, which would easily contain three soup bowls in it, then thrust it to the old man.


“I think he has a bigger appetite,” she said, snickering along with the two men. Ver’On didn’t see what was funny, but was satisfied as the old man filled the bowl for him.


“Chicken soup, cures all ails, and comforts the soul,” Ralph said, admiring the handy work of himself and his friend. “Why do you think Oprah made so much fuss about those ‘Chicken soup for the Soul’ books?” El laughed as she took a spoonful of soup. “There, now that’s what I like to see. I hadn’t seen you laugh since we raced wheel chairs down the ambulance bay at the hospital. It looks good.”


“Thanks, Ralph,” she said, and a tear escaped her eye. “For everything. I loved the leather outfit for the bike. I know I never told you. And I never said how much I appreciate…” Ralph just put his huge arms around her, as she began to cry once more. Mr. Com took the bowl, and set it aside, while Ver’On watched the scene with critical eyes.


“Its ok,” Ralph eased, patting her hair, and offering her a clean hanky from his pocket. “You would have done the same for me, had our rolls been reversed.”


“I don’t know about that.”


“Well I guess you’ll never know then, because we were put together this time for a reason. For you to stay here, and find him, I truly believe that.” Ralph turned as a loud knock came form the window of the main door. Mr. Com pulled the barrio down over the open space between the restaurant and the kitchen. It was hardly ever used, and sometimes didn’t work, like now. Ver’On saw what he was trying to do, he put his massive hands on the tow ends the refused to move, and pushed. The barrier came down easily.


“Who is that?” she asked, as Ralph unlocked the inner door, and locked it again as he left.


“Probably the Sheriff. You beat the crap out of a highway patrol officer that night. He’s determined to put you in jail for it.”


“What? I don’t remember that.”


“We keep telling him that, but he won’t believe us.”






“Sheriff Bastian, what do you want now?” Ralph stated, angrily opening the door.


“Ralph, this is Officer Tyler, he’s the one we found in your car that night. Says that he had an altercation with a young woman, matching El’s description. Now I want Officer Tyler here to see El, and tell me if she’s the one who attacked him.”


“El’s still in mourning, she cracked that night, thanks to some friends. She’s been crying nonstop for several days. You want to see her, you get a warrant.”


“If that’s what if takes, then fine. The highway patrol department will drag her sorry but to jail, and I’ll be the one to serve the papers.”


“You ass…”


“Watch you mouth fat man…”


“Sheriff,” Tyler called, “please. May I speak with Mr. Williams for a moment. Please. I know El, she’s a good kid. If she’s hurting, I’d at least like to pay my respects.”


“Alright. But don’t let your guard down. The fat one farts and he’ll probably kill you with the gas.”


Ralph narrowed his eyes as the belligerent man walked away. “Ralph, is El ok?”


“She’s fine, or at least she will be.”


“Don’t lie to me Ralph, please. Look, I’m not in uniform so I’m speaking to you as a friend. El was seriously hurt that night. She had wounds in her legs like someone was trying to slice her up or something. Now she assaulted me, in uniform, and the department isn’t going to let that go. They’re gona put her in jail Ralph, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I can ask the DA for leniency in light of what happened to her family, but she’s still looking at a year in jail, at the least.”


Ralph put his head down. “Is there any way she can serve that here, house arrest or something of the like?”


“No. The only way that she can avoid jail time…” and he looked over to where the Sheriff was harassing a young woman, though she seemed to be enjoying it. “…is if she was out of the court’s reach.” Ralph looked at him when he said those words. All Tyler did was nod, and walked away.


‘He knows.'