Disclaimer: I do not own the Biker Mice From Mars, STAR WARS or E.T. nor claim to. These movies are the property of their respective owners. This story is just for fun, and no copyright infringement is intentional.

Again, this is a response to the fantastic Inuficcrzy 'The Firsts' challenge. If you STILL haven't read her story you really must!

Warning: Alludes to some discussion of sex. Please decide if this is appropriate for you to continue reading.

Rating: T (But as always exercise your own discretion)

The First Encounter with the Third Kind

Clean garage, washed dishes, accounts balanced, a full refrigerator, and a Friday night off, could life really get any better than this? Charley wondered idly.

Maybe a Friday night off, to relax and watch her All-Time-Bar-None favourite movie?

Charley snuggled into her faded green couch and settled back. Her soft jade eyes were riveted to the small television. Each time she watched this movie, her reaction was exactly the same. Inevitably she'd tear up, as her heart broke again at the look of desolation and abandonment on the small creature's face as the spaceship took his compatriots home.

And despite knowing each line word-perfect, she cuddled up popcorn on one side, tissues on the other, her knees drawn up to her chest and lost herself in the innocence of a movie declaring the importance of doing what is right, even when it hurts, trusting the heart instead of packaging of a creature and ignoring what society conditions us to think of those who are different...

Yeah, she could probably teach the course on symbolism and underlying themes in this Spielberg classic.

Wiping her eyes she patted the couch next to her as her friends crept into the den with her. Well, perhaps not 'crept.' At 6ft her guys didn't 'creep' anywhere. But they were strangely well behaved. And quiet – for them anyway. Or had been until:

"EeeTee phone home"

Three beats of silence, then:

"What the hell is that supposed to be?"

Really, she reflected later, she should have known better than trying to watch a movie about extra-terrestrials while in the presence of extra-terrestrials.

Rapidly blinking to clear the moisture from her eyes she smiled sheepishly. "Uh, an alien, guys."

And she should have been prepared for the derisive laughter and snorts that rang throughout the room.

"Is that the best they can do?" Vinnie yelped once he'd paused his cackling long enough to gulp some air down.

"Yeah, we've pretty much done the inter-planetary loop and never found anything that looked quite like, well, whatever that is." Modo added, the couch dipping as he lay back with his hands laced behind his head.

Vinnie reached over Charley to grab a handful of popcorn, spilling half of it enroute to his mouth. "So," he began, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes, with a sly grin "are you disappointed you didn't get three mutated penguins, instead of us, sweetheart?"

"ET is not a mutated penguin!" She growled glaring at the unrepentant white mouse.

"Whatever you say, babe, whatever you say."

"You know," Throttle mused from the other chair, his boots draped over the armrests, "Charley's reaction to us is now becoming more understandable: see if we had rolled up looking like 'aliens'," he made quotation marks either side of his ears, "she wouldn't have even batted an eyelid."

"Instead she got three studly-" Modo started,

"Macho," Throttle interjected,

"Heroes." Vinnie finished. He stuffed another fistful of popcorn into his mouth, "Your alien doesn't even have antenna." He muttered with a disgusted face.

Charley exhaled explosively. "Come on! You guys were much more open-minded when we watched Star Wars!"

Vinnie snickered. "Yeah, 'cause Princess Leila looked like a girl I met once at a rave. Danced with her, slept with-" He broke off, wilting under the glare from his larger grey furred bro. It was a mystery how Modo didn't burn anything, his stare was that intense. Vinnie coughed "Played solitaire with, I mean. I played solitaire with her." He amended.

"Solitaire?" Throttle's husky voice sounded highly amused, "Sure that wasn't what you played later once she left? Bro, you know solitaire is a game for one, right?" He laughed.

Modo's jaw dropped. It wasn't that he was a prude, but these sorts of discussions should not be conducted in the presence of a lady. It just wasn't polite. He was brought up better than that. Vinnie hadn't been. He had been dragged up though a combination of Modo and Modo's mother's expert glares. Now, however, Vinnie just laughed and leaned across Charley and Modo to get closer to Throttle.

"That too, man, let me tell you. She would-" he suddenly clamped his mouth shut with a snap as Modo's metal hand thumped the upside of the white mouse's head. Hard.

"Vinnie!" Modo blushed brightly.

"What?" Vinnie asked trying to feign innocence even as his face looked a little sheepish.

"You know there's something wrong with you, don't you?" Modo paused and swung his head round to his tanned-furred bro, "And don't you encourage him. You know exactly how little self-control he has. Hell, you complain about it enough, yourself."

"Innocence! I didn't say anything!" Vinnie protested.

"Yet," Modo corrected with a hard look.

"Okay, Vinnie, we get the picture." Charley waved her hand, fighting the urge to cover her ears and yell loudly (not unlike she did when the boys started singing, but that's a whole different story). She was well aware that she was about to hear way too much about Vincent Van Wham's personal life. And some things about alien life she didn't need to know.

"No, Star Wars was a bit different." Modo conceded, trying to steer the conversation away from any other potential disaster zones.

"Yeah, it's amazing what random chaos and confusing actions can accomplish when used correctly," Throttle said happily "Which is effectively what those Star Wars movies are all about. Hell, half of those stunts could never actually happen." He snorted shaking his head.

Charley lips tilted upwards, but she decided against pointing out to him just how few human beings would believe half of what the Biker Mice got up to, could 'actually happen'.

Or that six foot walking and talking mice from Mars could actually exist.

And Throttle was worried whether it would be physically possible for the Millennium Falcon could fly the way it did?

If Charley had learned nothing else from her boys, it was: never say never. Never say that six foot walking and talking mice from Mars couldn't actually exist, or that it was not physically possible for Vinnie to fit yet another hot dog in. Or that he couldn't polish off an entire bowl full of popcorn singlehandedly.

And if she had any doubts about that last one, she found she had the proof sitting right there sitting in front of her. Leaning over Vinnie to snag a handful of the popcorn that had, somehow, ended up resting in the crook of his arm, (on the side furthest away from everyone else) she discovered he could in actual fact demolish the whole bowlful nearly singlehandedly.

Demolished her popcorn, that she had made so she could sit and watch the movie, instead of playing snack-lady.

And this was supposed to be her chance to relax.

Charley sighed getting up to make more popcorn. After all, the bowl wasn't going to refill itself, despite Vinnie's intense staring at it.

"It doesn't work like that, Vinnie. You have to pop more before the bowl refills." She muttered, scooping up the fall bits that hadn't made it quite to Vinnie's mouth.

"Charley, while you're up, could you grab us another root beer? Thanks babe." Throttle asked absently as she got up, but without tearing his gaze away from the television.

"Make it two?


She sighed again. But smiled a little, too.

ET wanted to go home because he didn't fit in on Earth. But what if, as an earthling, you didn't fit in without extra-terrestrials? Even if the extra-terrestrials told you a fraction too much about their personal life, ate all your food, and made fun of your favourite movie, then where did that leave you? An Earth-bound extra-terrestrial?

Arms laden with three root beers and another full bowl of popcorn, she kicked the door open with the heel of her boot and plopped back down on the couch, wiggling back in between Vinnie and Modo.

Just in time for the ending, that would be right. Charley thought rolling her eyes.

Glancing back to the television, Elliot's face was heartbreaking as he watched ET return to his rightful home. A pang hit her in the stomach, and she couldn't help the feeling that she too, would one day get to wear Elliot's same expression of grief, as she too waved her extra-terrestrials home.

Now, E.T. would make her cry for a different reason. One she dreaded would come all too true, too soon: sympathy.