Disclaimer: Pittacus Lore ;)

A/N: Honest to blog, Sohn/Jarah (whatever you fangirls call them) annoy the crap outta me. So Sark was born. Or rather, reborn. (Admittedly, probably because I love Jake Abel with a fiery burning passion that puts Hades to shame…)

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Life As We Know It
A Lorien Legacy Oneshot
(Possible twoshot, depending on how things go)

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It was a little over two months since John, Sam, the dog, and the hot brunette rode off into the sunset to save the world.

Life returned relatively back to normal in Paradise, Ohio; Sarah again retreated into the soft comfort of photography, while Mark James spent the remainder of his senior year deciding what the Jekyll he was supposed to do with his life.

Football had always been the goal. Score a scholarship, go pro, slam the big leagues, whatever, but now that he knew there was something bigger out there—something that wanted to wipe out the human race and oh, you know, colonize Earth—there was no room left in his brain for football and college.

In part, he was pissed at John Smith. The Loric had swooped in and destroyed everything Mark had ever known about life. Aliens? Are you kidding? Just the thought of extra-terrestrial beings was enough to make him laugh for hours.

But now the idea of it just made Mark want to curl up and…die.

It'd be a long time—maybe months, maybe years, most likely never— before he'd forget the eyes of those Mogadorians, the toothy sneers on their faces, those gleaming sharp swords that could so easily end his life.

He tried talking to Sarah about it, her being the only one who'd understand, but she shoved him away. He wasn't the one she wanted to talk to. He wasn't John.

So he was angry at her, too, at first.

But as the time passed, one day blurring into another, he gave up on forgetting. So in the hopes of distracting himself, he dove back into sports with a fierce determination, but it was useless. Every time he closed his eyes, he recalled with vivid intensity the terrors of that night. It didn't help that it had happened in the very halls he had to walk down every day, the field he had once scored touchdowns on.

All in all, he knew his thoughts would never return to the simplicity of a teenage boy who loved football.

And on top of worrying about a world invasion, he couldn't help but worry about Sarah.

She put on a good front, he'd give her that. Sarah acted like she didn't have a care in the world, that all was good and dandy, that she was the happiest ray of sunshine to ever fall across the earth.

For a while, she even had Mark fooled, and so he dismissed her cheerfulness for fanciful daydreams of her Johnny boy projected with a savior complex.

On more than one occasion he simply wanted to grab her and shake her by the shoulders, to tell her she was hoping for the impossible. She couldn't put her life on hold for someone whose future was so unpredictable. She'd only hurt herself in the long run.

But he wouldn't tell her that—couldn't tell her that. He'd only hurt her if he did.

And he had hurt her enough.

:::

Sarah tried to cover up the fact that she had been sobbing when she realized she was no longer alone.

"Oh, Mark, it's you," she said with a barely suppressed sniffle as she wiped her streaming eyes, "I was just taking pictures of the marching band—" she lifted her camera from her lap as if to further the point.

Mark looked back towards the empty field, and then slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he fixed her with a frown, his brow furrowed with concern. "Sarah, the marching band left nearly an hour ago."

She let out a surprised hiccup. "Oh."

He sighed and sat next to her without another word, glancing at the darkening sky above them. Predictably enough, it was going to rain.

Sarah quickly gave up and allowed her expression of indifference to crumble as she let out another strangled cry.

"I'm sorry," she choked out with a forced laugh. "I must look pathetic. I've been t-trying so hard to be brave—b-but I'm so worried about him…"

Him. Mark hid his grimace well.

He let Sarah blubber some more about John, lent her his shoulder to cry on as she did so, and then wrapped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders. The old Mark wouldn't have done so.

After she calmed down some, she looked up at his face. "What do you think they're doing right now?"

Mark considered the question. "I dunno." He shrugged. When her face began to fall, he quickly added, "Probably, you know, kicking alien ass."

Her lips twitched as she smiled halfheartedly. "You think?"

"I know," he corrected, offering a small smile of his own. "You saw what they were capable of. Those bald creeps don't stand a chance."

He nearly kicked himself, but he then added sincerely, "John will be back for you before you know it."

Sarah smiled up at him sadly, and he was nearly tempted to kiss her despite their current situation, but a distant clap of thunder sounded across the field, effectively breaking the misty spell and shoving him back to his senses.

"Give me a ride home?" she asked in a quiet voice as it began to drizzle over the bleachers shielding them.

"Yeah," he said simply, helping her up. He held her hand for a split second longer than was necessary, but dropped it before she noticed how tense he had become.

Was there really no way to help her see the inevitable?

Or to show her how much he did care?

They ran out from beneath their shelter and towards the distant parking lot as the rain pelted them from above. Sarah laughed, a rare show of ecstasy as the cold water rushed over them.

Once they were safely out of the rain and in the truck, she looked over at him and smiled again.

"What about you?" she asked, watching with red-rimmed eyes as he started the engine and got the wind-shield wipers drumming against the onslaught of rain. "You seem to be taking everything pretty well."

He scoffed. "Me? I'm a mess; where have you been?"

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "What do you mean? You seem so sure of what's going on. You're not worried at all."

"Believe me, Sarah, I've been freaking out inside."

She studied him more closely as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot. He avoided the searching stare.

"You've changed," she noted with surprise. "When?"

"My new perspective on life might have something do with a recent alien invasion I took part of."

She chuckled and freed him from her intense gaze. "Point."

"It's a good change. Isn't it?" he looked at her out of the corner of his eye as they stalled at a red light.

"Yes," she assured him softly. "A very good change."

He still had that pleasant tingling in his stomach when he dropped her off at her house. She waved from the front porch as he backed out of her driveway, her wet hair clinging to her face but another tiny smile nevertheless present on her face.

With that smile, he allowed himself a faint flicker of hope.

:::

"I think we should help them in some way," Sarah said to him one night over the phone.

She had picked up the habit of calling him again—a habit Mark didn't mind in the least.

"I know," he said, clenching his teeth as he gripped his phone in one hand and groped for whatever was clogging the kitchen sink with the other. He felt a flash of irritation towards his parents for making him deal with it; a good couple of months later and he was still being punished for burning the house down. He vaguely guessed he deserved it.

"I mean, there must be something we can do. Sitting here, knowing what we know, it's kind of…I dunno…selfish?"

"I don't think selfish is the right word," Mark replied, tightening his grip on whatever was lodged in the sink pipe. He braced himself against the counter and tugged at it.

"Yeah, me neither," Sarah agreed, sounding thoughtful. "Regardless, we need to do something."

"And what do you suggest?"

"I don't know…maybe we should tip off the government."

Mark's grip slipped and he tripped over his feet and slammed into the kitchen island. "About what?" he asked her incredulously, wincing as he straightened up. "And tell them what?"

"About the Mogs," Sarah said, her tone instantly becoming defensive.

"They'd think we were on crack," Mark pointed out, examining his hand with disgust. Whatever was clogging the sink wasn't strictly appealing.

He was wiping the gunk off onto his shirt with a grimace when Sarah sighed, "I guess you're right. I just feel so useless!"

Mark grunted and attacked the drain again.

"So what are you doing this weekend?" Sarah asked him, sounding casually curious, something Mark noted with interest.

"Thought I'd catch a movie with Kevin and the guys," he told her, gritting his teeth as he wrestled with the clog. "You?"

"Oh. Nothing."

Mark smiled slightly and rested against the counter, his furious battle momentarily forgotten. "You wanna tag along?"

"What are you going to see?" she asked him, her tone indifferent.

"I don't know. Kevin was picking."

Her reply came out a bit hasty. "Actually, I just remembered Emily wanted to come over, so I'll ask her if she wants to go."

The grin was obvious in his voice. "Alright, let me know, then."

"Right, I will. I've gotta go. Goodnight."

"Night, Sarah."

With a click, the conversation ended.

:::

"I like this one."

Sarah looked up from her math book and blushed furiously when she saw what he was looking at.

"Uh, that's private, Mark."

He slowly closed the scrapbook. "Sorry," he said with a sheepish grin. "It was open."

They met eyes for an intense moment, but then she coughed and looked back down at her homework. "Um," she laughed a little and, looking flustered, brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "We should focus."

Mark again sat down next to her and picked up his notebook. He tapped his pencil against the paper restlessly, his eyes roaming around her bedroom.

"Are you alright?" Sarah asked him as he took to staring out the window.

"Yeah," he said, looking at her. "I'm great."

"Great," she said quietly, offering him a slightly puzzled smile before returning to the math problem she had been steadily working on.

Mark laughed softly, if not a bit bitterly. "Look at us. We're doing algebra while John's out saving the world."

She didn't freeze up, which surprised him. Instead, she laughed with him. "It's kind of hard to wrap my head around," she admitted. When he looked at her questioningly, she shrugged self-consciously. "Him, saving the world. It's just…what happened. It happened a while ago."

Mark raised his eyebrows fractionally. "You say that like you've…you know, forgotten."

Her eyes widened. "Oh—no! Not at all, how could I?" she laughed a bit shakily and tucked her hair behind her ear again. "No, it's not that…"

"What is it?" he prompted.

She shrugged again. "Honestly? I'm not sure."

Mark gave her an enigmatic smile of his own, but didn't press the subject.

An hour later, Mrs. Hart called them down for dinner.

Mark stuffed his books back into his bag and threw it over his shoulder.

"Aren't you staying?" Sarah asked him with surprise as he followed her down the stairs.

"I wish I could," he told her sincerely, "but this bad boy is still under curfew."

Sarah pulled a face at him. "Alright, Mr. Bad," she said teasingly as she hugged him, "see you tomorrow, then."

"Call me?" he asked as he opened the door, a dopey and hopeful smile crossing his face.

She laughed and held the door open as he stepped out onto the porch.

"We'll see."

"I shall be anxiously awaiting it," he told her regally.

She shook her head with a smile and waved as he drove away.

:::

By the time summer rolled around, the nightmares had started.

Sarah couldn't explain where they had come from so suddenly, but the toll they were taking on her was alarming.

She was afraid to go to sleep at night, but when she finally had no choice but to succumb to her exhaustion, she woke up terrified more often than not.

The first time she woke up screaming, she'd speak to no one but Mark.

"She won't tell me," Mrs. Hart explained through trembling lips, looking worried and close to tears when he appeared on their porch a little after one o'clock in the morning.

He took the stairs two at time and found her clutching her pillow, silent tears of unmistakable horror coursing down her pale face. As he crossed the floor, he took in the state of her room: the covers from the bed had been tossed to the floor and the rest of the pillows had been chucked across the room.

"Sarah?" he murmured worriedly, crouching down beside her bed.

She started, as if just realizing he had entered the room. When she recognized him, fresh tears spilled over her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her tightly.

"Mark," she cried, tightening her grip. "Mark, I was so scared."

"What happened?" he asked her after a deep breath of surprise.

"He was dead," she choked, "they were all dead. They were coming for me—" she couldn't go on and succumbed to more shuddering tears.

He climbed onto the bed beside her and held her while she cried, his throat tight as he ran his fingers comfortingly through her blonde hair.

He murmured her name and assured her that everything would be alright.

Even though he was beginning to think things would never be right again.

He was still holding her the next morning.

:::

"How do you work this thing?" Mark asked her, staring dumbfounded at the camera he held in his hands.

Sarah, who had been posed and ready to take the picture for a good two minutes now, let out an impatient sigh.

"Mark, it's not rocket science!"

He grinned at her over the camera as he lifted it to his face. "I know; I'm just messing with you."

She grinned widely and threw her arms out dramatically; Mark snapped the picture, an odd sense of comfort falling around him as he listened to the roar of Niagara Falls behind her.

"It's so beautiful," she breathed as she turned back around to watch the water cascade down into the river below.

"Would you hit me if I pointed out that it's not nearly as beautiful as you?" Mark asked her with casual unconcern as he clicked through the album on the camera. All pictures of her. All breathtaking. He'd be the first to admit it.

Sarah rolled her eyes at him but smiled. "Shut up."

As they made their way back down the sidewalk, she looped her arm through his and sighed. "I'm going to miss you," she stated.

"Yeah, you will," he replied bluntly. She knocked him in the side with her elbow and he grinned down at her. "Well, you will."

"Generally, when someone tells you that, you're supposed to assure them that they'll be fine while you're away."

Mark shrugged and kissed the top of her head with a smile. He reached over and rubbed the hand that rested on his arm comfortingly. "You'll be fine. I'm only going to college over in Athens. Better?"

When she came to a sudden stop that jolted his arm, he looked around. "What's wrong?" he asked, confused by her sudden wild-eyed stare. He followed her gaze and felt his breath catch painfully in his throat.

Two inhumanly tall figures were leaning against the guardrail only a few feet away, their faces obscured by two black hoodies.

Sarah made a choking sound in her throat and pressed herself against his side. "Mark!"

"I see them," he told her, his voice sounding funny even to his own ears. He didn't need to see what was underneath those hoods.

He couldn't believe it. Not after all these months.

But why would they be here? Of all places? Was John nearby?

"Mark," Sarah repeated in a deathly whisper, her face void of all color as she gripped his arm tightly. Her head swiveled feverishly in all directions, as if she were looking for John, too.

Mark swallowed, his throat suddenly sickeningly dry.

"Mark," Sarah's voice was pleading, and she tugged on his arm, her expression horrified.

They both knew it wasn't coincidence that the two figures pushed themselves away from the rails as Mark and Sarah turned and hurried the other way.

"What do they want?" she asked him furiously under her breath.

"Maybe they think we know where John is."

"But we don't!"

"They don't know that."

Her eyes fluttered closed with fear and she gripped his arm even tighter as he steered her through the milling tourists.

A sudden terrible thought occurred to him.

If the Mogadorians had found them here…

…did that mean they'd always been watching Paradise?

That they'd always been watching him and Sarah?

He looked back at her, Sarah, with her eyes still clenched tightly shut. He spared a glance behind her.

And felt a flash of panic.

He quickly faced forward again. Where had they gone?

His regained breath left him with a whoosh as he was knocked backwards, having collided with something solid and distinctly barrel-chested. Sarah let out a gasp of surprise as Mark's fall jerked her down with him.

Another surge of panic coursed through him as the Mogadorian grinned toothily at him from beneath the dark hood, growling menacingly in its guttural and ugly alien language.

Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but a sickly pale hand shot out and covered her mouth from behind. She was yanked up off the ground and Mark hauled himself to his feet, his fists curled and prepared to swing. Before he could so much as blink, the other Mogadorian slapped him hard across the face and sent him staggering.

The passing tourists turned to stare, anxiously awaiting some sort of brawl. A few called out in alarm as Sarah's arms were pinned painfully behind her. She cried out.

"What do you want from us?" Mark demanded, regaining his footing as the Mogadorian took a step towards him, its black eyes haunting.

"Four."

"We don't know where he is!"

Sarah struggled against her captor, tears flowing down her face and over his hand. The Mog hissed with disgust and tightened his grip over her mouth.

One of the braver tourists took a step forward as he realized things were getting out of hand. "Hey, there, buddy, what's the problem-?"

The words were barely out of his brisk mouth before the Mog whipped around, pulling his blaster free from where it was hidden within his jacket. One shot and the man was down like a sack of flour, causing the crowd to scream in horror and run.

The Mogadorian holding Sarah was hit from behind and with a roar he dropped her, reaching up to clutch his head. Mark seized her hand and ran, shouldering his way through the teeming crowd to get ahead and as far away from the two aliens as possible.

Cars leaned furiously upon their horns as the crowd surged across the road. Mark tightened his grip around Sarah's hand as they bolted in front of a taxi that screeched to a stop to avoid a nasty collision. The driver rolled down his window and roared an obscenity that Mark couldn't hear.

The two ducked into an alley to their right, breathing deeply and clutching their sides. Mark peered around the corner of the building: people ran past and he twisted back into the shadows and out of sight.

Sarah was trying hard not to cry.

"I don't see them," he told her in a ragged voice.

She swallowed and nodded, trying in vain to regain her breath.

"Why won't it stop?" she asked, tears flooding her eyes. "I had just—we had finally—"

"Hey, hey, shhh," he soothed, slipping his hand behind her neck and pressing his forehead to hers. He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "We'll get through this."

There was no way he could have known he was echoing John's words from so many months ago.

But unlike John, it was a promise he had no hope of keeping.

The last of the frantic tourists ran past their hiding place and, pressing further into the shadows and holding their breath, Mark and Sarah waited anxiously to see what had become of the Mogadorians.

They found out sooner than they would have liked.

The sound of gravel crunching underfoot reached their ears from behind and Sarah clutched Mark's sleeve tightly in her fist as they slowly turned to look towards the end of the dark alley.

"Four."

Sarah inhaled sharply and Mark stepped protectively in front of her, fixing his heated glare on the Mog.

"We don't know where he is!" he insisted angrily.

Sarah wrapped her arms around him tightly from behind. "Mark, behind you!" she whispered, pressing her face into his back.

They were surrounded.

"Don't know where Four is," the Mogadorian facing him said, a mocking tilt in his voice. "Don't know where Six is."

"That's right," Mark said, his throat clenching. "They left Ohio!"

"Left Ohio," he repeated in his thick voice, his facial gills quivering with every breath.

Mark braced himself as the Mogadorian took another daunting step towards them. "Four come to you and pretty girl," he said in an ominously playful voice, grinning at Sarah as she peeked timidly over Mark's shoulder.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. So that's what they wanted. To draw John out from whatever rock he was hiding under.

Sarah forced him forward as she stepped away from the Mog behind them, who had drawn one of the glowing red swords and pointed it towards her exposed back.

The Mogadorian leader fixed Mark with another taunting grin. "Four come for you," he repeated, taking another step forward, "Four come to us."

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E/N: And so Mark and Sarah were captured by Mogadorians! Duhn, duhn, DUHHHN! Review. Or not. Whatever. SHALOM!