I have noticed a lot of questions and assumptions based on what happened on the show during this time period. All I can say is, don't assume things are happening the same way in this story unless I spell it out. On the one hand, I'm trying to alter only what I believe would change due to Liz's absence from Roswell and her pregnancy, but that doesn't mean those ramifications aren't pretty far reaching. Of course, because this is Liz's POV, things might be happening that she hasn't heard about yet...
You'll all just have to wait and see.Anyway, without further ado, here's the next part. Posted in two sections due to length.
Em
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Part 10
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The junkyard opened early, yet Liz was already waiting when the caretaker came down to unlock the gates. If he thought she made a strange sight, a pregnant teenager standing there by herself at the crack of dawn, he gave no indication. He merely snapped open the padlock and swung the gate wide, then ambled back toward the shack that was his office.
Liz walked slowly down the aisles of scrap metal and old appliances until she found the area assigned to demolished or abandoned cars. She knew Alex's car would have been taken to the Sheriff's impound lot immediately following the accident, but after a day or two it would have been transferred here. Most of the vehicles were in terrible shape - hoods smashed, windows broken, doors missing - but they were still identifiable and none were Alex's. Finally she spied a flat bed truck parked by the rear fence, a tarp covering its load. She headed over and tugged at the corner of the plastic, peering underneath to see what it hid. Sure enough, Alex's car - or at least what remained of it - was parked on the back of the truck.
It took several hard pulls to uncover the car, the tarp catching repeatedly on the jagged edges of the metal and forcing Liz to move around the truck to free each side. Once she had a clear view of the wreck, she almost wished she hadn't found it. The roof of the car had been crushed and the front windshield was shattered. On the driver's side, the door had been forced off its hinges and propped casually near the back of the car. It suddenly dawned on Liz that they had pulled the door off to get Alex out. The realization made her light headed and she grabbed at the side of the truck to steady herself.
"You can't fall apart," she scolded. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to clear her mind of anything but her purpose. She needed to see inside that car. Once she was feeling calmer, she climbed up onto the bed of the truck so she could get a better view. Pieces of glass were strewn over the upholstery and the driver's seat was stained dark with blood.
Liz refused to dwell on it. She blocked the images from her mind and leaned further into the car, holding onto the steering wheel for leverage. Down between the front seats, she could see what seemed to be a piece of paper, wedged nearly under the emergency brake. She hadn't expected to find anything beyond the wreck itself. The Sheriff's department should have removed everything from the car and returned it to the Whitmans. Frowning, she snaked a hand down into the narrow space and caught the paper with her fingers, then drew it slowly upward.
Instead of a piece of paper, she found herself holding a photograph of two people: a blonde girl who looked vaguely familiar and another person who appeared to be Alex; it was impossible to tell for sure, since his head had been cut out of the photo. A shudder ran through her. Why would someone have destroyed a picture this way? And what was it doing in Alex's car?
She tucked the photo into her jacket pocket and got back to her task. A quick search revealed nothing further out of the ordinary. Feeling unnerved, Liz climbed out of the car and sat down on the edge of the flat bed, legs dangling. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The place was getting to her, as was what she was doing. After a sleepless night spent trying to unravel the puzzle of the skid marks at the crash site, the last thing she needed was to be playing detective in the middle of a junkyard. She still couldn't imagine how Max had managed the morgue. Just the thought of it made her stomach churn. But she couldn't get past the fact that things did not add up. She had spent too long embroiled in an alien conspiracy to just let the situation slide. There was something suspicious about the way Alex had died.
Pulling the photo out of her pocket again, Liz stared hard at the blonde girl. Where had she seen her before? Switching her focus to the unfamiliar background, she tried to find a clue in the landscape behind them, but she didn't recognize that at all. How did this girl know Alex, and where were they standing?
Suddenly she remembered. Alex had sent her a series of e-mails with pictures from his trip to Sweden, declaring that she couldn't escape his travel slides simply by running off to Florida. This was one of those pictures, and the girl was someone he had met on his trip. Was she the daughter from his host family or that girl he had liked briefly? Lena or something like that. Liz couldn't remember, but it would be easy enough to check. Frowning, she traced the girl's features, thinking she looked a little like Isabel. Then she ran her finger over the edges of the picture where Alex's face had been cut out, and her frown grew deeper.
"What does this mean?" she murmured.
Liz caught the photo between her palms, pressing her hands together with a frustrated sigh. She was about to put the picture away when she felt a rapid tingling sensation shoot through her fingers and her vision flickered before going black.
"Leanna is not Leanna. Leanna is not Leanna! Everything is all wrong." Alex shook his head back and forth, as if trying to dislodge something, all the while, carefully snipping his face from the photograph. "Leanna is not Leanna."
The photo fluttered from Liz's fingers and landed on the ground a second before she herself dropped to her hands and knees. She was breathing hard, perspiration dampening her forehead, and the baby had begun to kick restlessly. For a moment she thought she would be sick, the rush of adrenaline so potent it made her head spin, but as she continued to kneel there the world slowly righted itself and she was able to regain a bit of her equilibrium.
Clutching one hand to her stomach and moving gingerly, she sat back on her heels to try and catch her breath. "What was that?" she muttered. "Did you do that?" she asked, rubbing gently over the spot where the baby kept kicking. "What is it with you guys and flashes, huh?"
She closed her eyes and again she could see Alex's hand holding the scissors, feel his sense of confusion and despair. Her eyes snapped back open. "Oh Alex. What happened to you?" she asked. "And what is happening to me?"
***
Liz waited in the car until she saw both Kyle and Tess leave for school, then made her way up the path to the Valentis' door and rang the bell. The photograph she'd found was tucked safely in her pocket and it was all she could do to keep from running her fingers over it. Her need to know more, however, was overshadowed by her own fear and confusion. She had never gotten a flash without Max.
The door swung open and Jim Valenti appeared. He wore jeans and a worn white T-shirt, and it looked as if he had yet to brush his hair that morning. There were faint lines around his eyes that she didn't recall being there before. Clearly unemployment was wearing on him.
"Liz?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Hi, Mr. Valenti," she said. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." He stepped back so she could pass, then led her into the den. "You know, Kyle and Tess just left." When she continued into the room, his brows rose slightly and he gave her a little nod. "Right. So, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Or juice?" he added hastily, his eyes dropping briefly to her stomach.
"I'm fine," she told him, easing down on the couch. "I really just wanted to talk to you. About Alex."
"Oh, I see." He exhaled sharply and dropped down across from her. "I can't say I'm surprised."
Liz looked down at her hands where she was twisting them in her lap. "I went out to see where the accident was. Last night."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I needed to be there. Even after the funeral, none of it felt… real."
"I suppose I can understand that," he agreed.
Liz raised her eyes to meet his. "The skid marks make it look like Alex turned his car into the oncoming traffic," she said slowly, watching for his reaction. When he didn't blink, she let out a soft sigh. "You knew."
Valenti nodded. "I've been going over everything with Sheriff Hanson."
"But you didn't say anything."
He sat back and shook his head. "There wasn't any point."
"No point? How can you say that? It wasn't just an accident. You can't keep something like that quiet."
"Liz, what exactly do you think happened out there?" he asked gently.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," she replied. "I understand not wanting to tell the Whitmans, but why not the rest of us?"
"Because you're all upset enough as it is. Maria's been a zombie since Sunday night, Max is blaming himself for not being able to do anything, Isabel's crying every time I see her." He ran his hand through his hair, pinning her with piercing blue eyes. "And you, Liz, my God. The last thing you need is something else to think about."
"That's not your decision," she told him flatly. "This is not about me, it's about Alex."
"I've been all over town with Hanson the last two days. Talked to the truck driver, Alex's teachers, kids at school," he said. "All the signs point to the same place."
Liz frowned. Something wasn't making sense. "What do you mean? What do teachers and kids at school have to do with anything?"
"We were looking to ascertain Alex's state of mind the last few months, and pretty much everyone said the same thing."
"His state of mind?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"
Valenti's eyes narrowed. "What do you think I'm talking about? Liz, you saw the skid marks. Everyone says Alex has been moody and withdrawn since he got back from Sweden. His grades have plummeted, he's been-"
"Stop," Liz said, shaking her head. "Don't even say it. Alex did not do this to himself," she bit out.
"I don't want to believe it either, but there's no getting around the facts," he said softly.
"The facts? No. No, see, I know Alex, and he would never, ever kill himself," Liz said, her voice rising. "He loved his life."
"Liz, you've been out of town for months. You-"
"What difference does that make? He was my best friend! He called me that day to tell me about prom and how well everything was going with Isabel. I knew him, and I'm telling you that he wouldn't do it."
"Shhh, you're getting all upset-"
"Of course I am!"
"Liz, this is precisely why I didn't want to say anything."
"No." She shook her head again, lips pressed into a tight line. Groping in her pocket, she pulled out the photograph and thrust it at Valenti. "See this? I found it in Alex's car."
"You went out to the junkyard?" he sputtered as he took the picture.
"I'm pregnant, not some damn fragile flower," she snapped at him. "Just look at it, all right? It was wedged between the seats."
He turned the photo around and looked at it carefully, his forehead furrowed. With one finger he traced the cut edges, much in the way Liz had earlier, then looked up. His eyes were sad.
"Don't you see? This just adds more evidence," he told her. "He defaced his own image, Liz."
"He cut himself out of that picture," Liz agreed with a nod, "but it had nothing to do with defacing his own image. It had something to do with her," she continued, jabbing a finger at the girl. "Leanna. He met her in Sweden."
"What about her?"
"I'm not sure. It's like he didn't want to be in the same picture with her anymore," she said, frowning at the memory of Alex's voice echoing through her mind.
"Most people cut the other person out of the photo," Valenti suggested gently.
"He said Leanna wasn't Leanna."
"When he called you?"
"No, when he was cutting up the picture."
There was a long pause. "Liz, what are you telling me?" His voice was low, almost dangerous. She got the distinct impression that he was afraid of her answer.
"I… I got a flash off the photo," she admitted softly. "I heard Alex saying over and over, 'Leanna is not Leanna.'"
"You got a flash," he repeated slowly. "Like Max and Michael and… You got a flash." He let out a low whistle, his gaze shifting to her stomach again. "Liz, why don't you tell me what's really going on here," he suggested. "Kyle said Max isn't your child's father," he continued, nodding toward her. "I'll admit I was hard pressed to believe him, but I figured it wasn't my business one way or the other. Now you're sitting here telling me you're developing alien powers. Something has to give," he said, one brow quirking up.
Liz shook her head. "I've been… changing. Since Max healed me. When Max was in New York at the Summit, Isabel helped me to… project myself. So I could warn him he was in danger. I guess the flashes are just one more side effect."
"You mean none of this has anything to do with that baby you're carrying?" he asked. His tone was skeptical.
"Nothing," she replied firmly. "But it has everything to do with Alex," she went on. "I know that he didn't kill himself, and that it wasn't a regular accident. Someone, or something, caused it."
Valenti took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. "Okay," he agreed. "Say I go along with this. Are you going to tell the others?"
"Not yet. I need proof." She paused, lifting one shoulder in a helpless gesture. "You were right that they've enough to worry about," she agreed. "Max is beating himself up, and I'm willing to bet Isabel is, too. Besides, I'm not exactly their favorite person right now."
"They'd still want to be included. Hell, if this is alien related, you could be putting them all in more danger by not warning them."
"I know, but if I go to them with just a picture and some tire tracks, they'll never believe me," Liz sighed.
"So what do you propose?"
"I just need a couple of days. I want to see if the Whitmans will let me go through Alex's things. Hopefully I can find something there." Liz saw the concern shimmering in Valenti's eyes. "If it makes you feel better, I'll talk to Kyle and Maria," she relented.
"It would. And just so we're clear, the minute something weird happens, I'm calling Max. " He glanced at her stomach again, then met her gaze. "I mean this, Liz. No crazy risks. You need to be very careful."
"I will," she promised, meeting his piercing gaze. "And you need to keep the Sheriff's department from declaring Alex's death a suicide."
Valenti nodded. "I'll see what I can do."
***
Alex's room looked the way it always had - tidy, with the bedspread pulled up and his bass guitar propped in the corner, books stacked neatly on the desk and the screensaver running on his laptop. If she didn't know better, Liz might have expected him to come bounding through the door behind her, ready to catch her up on everything she had missed the last few months. Instead she turned to find Mr. Whitman standing in the doorway, his expression melancholy.
"We haven't really been in here since… Well, everything is just where he left it," he said quietly. "You spend as much time as you need, Liz. Alex would have wanted…" He shook his head and forced a small smile. "I'll be in the den if you need anything."
"Thanks, Mr. Whitman," she replied, her voice sounding somehow younger and very small.
She waited until he had gone, closing the door behind him, before turning to survey the room once again. It was hard to keep a critical eye; so many of the things she saw brought memories flooding back. In truth, she had no idea where to start. She picked up the bass and sat on the edge of the bed, strumming softly as she allowed her gaze to wander. Poetry books. A little cup full of guitar picks. Pens in an old West Roswell High mug. An empty picture frame caught her eye and she set aside the bass to go take a closer look. If she remembered correctly from her flash, it was the frame that held the photo of Alex and Leanna.
Liz picked up the frame gingerly, almost afraid of what she would see, but nothing happened. Remembering her reaction earlier at the junkyard, she pulled out the chair and sat down, then placed the frame on the desk in front of her. How did Max do this? Placing her hands flat over the frame, she took deep breaths and tried to let her mind go blank. Her fingers began to tingle almost immediately and her vision blurred.
"Why?" Alex shouted at the picture in his hands. "Why? How could I be so stupid?"
Releasing the frame, Liz sat back until her head stopped spinning. Did Max and the others feel this way every time they had a flash? she wondered. She pressed her fingers to her temples in an attempt to thwart the throbbing that had started.
"Well, that was pretty useless," she murmured, staring at the frame. She sighed and set it back where she'd found it, then turned to the pile of books on the desk. "T.S. Eliot, Elizabeth Bishop, Hart Crane, Countee Cullen, Robert Frost," she listed off. The Frost volume had a page marked and she flipped the book open.
"Beth Orton," she whispered, pulling out two tickets for the previous night's concert. Liz felt her eyes tearing up. "Did you even get a chance to ask Isabel? Was that why you were driving so fast that night? Because you were excited? Oh Alex," she sniffed. Carefully tucking the tickets back in place, she shut the book and returned it to the pile.
The computer was next. Liz slid it to the center of the desk and hit the spacebar to wake up the system. She ran a quick search for anything having to do with Leanna or Sweden and found the folders Alex used to organize everything from his trip. "Photos, E-mail… A ha. Journal," she mumbled, clicking on the final folder. The journal was a series of text files, each labeled by month and year. Liz chose the file for the previous December, knowing that was when Alex had left for Sweden.
"Damn. Password protected." Frowning, Liz worked her way through the rest of the folders, but everything she thought might give her a clue seemed to be locked. Not expecting much, she searched through a sheaf of papers and sticky notes, and even checked the bottom side of the desktop, but as she suspected, there was no sign of Alex's password anywhere.
Liz sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get any further. She put Alex's things back carefully, making sure to place them exactly where he had left them. It was difficult not to think about the fact that he would never move them again.
*****
continued in next post