To clear up the time issue - S3 never happened. S2 did happen, but without the baby storyline. Tess is just gone...because I don't want to write her
Part Ten
Michael flipped lazily through a magazine that he’d found on Liz’s coffee table; it was some girlie mag that talked about hair and how to have the best possible orgasm. One corner of his mouth lifted upward in what amounted to Michael’s biggest smile possible as he imagined Liz showing the magazine to Max and explaining to him how it was done. Then he shuddered – so something he didn’t want to think about.
Heaving a bored sigh, he tossed the magazine back onto the table and stretched. He’d had a busy day – after Isabel had phoned the night before, he’d been nothing but Marathon Man, picking up groceries, straightening the apartment, checking in with Valenti every now and then to see if he’d managed to finagle the police report from the motel fire out of the Colorado Springs PD.
His brow furrowed as he realized that the strange happenings in Colorado were troubling him the most. Sure, he cared about Liz in a sister-in-law kind of way and he hoped she’d get better soon, but the possibility that there might be some other alien out there was somewhat troublesome.
It didn’t really make sense. The skins had long been destroyed. Tess had been gone for over two years. In the meantime, there had been no alien activity whatsoever. It was almost as though the galaxies had shrugged and looked the other way.
Until now.
A soft dinging noise from the kitchen drew Michael’s attention away from his inner thoughts. While he’d been awaiting his friends’ arrival, he’d managed to whip together something new he’d learned in culinary school before the summer break – a quiche.
As he walked to the oven to check on his creation, he mused that real men didn’t eat quiche. Yeah, and real men didn’t need a magazine to tell them out to get their girlfriends off, either. He snorted to himself and popped open the oven door. The quiche was just about done and the wonderful smells drifted up to his nose. As his mouth watered, he found he was hungrier than he’d realized. He hoped they’d get home soon or he was going to have to cut into that pie without them.
As though his mere thought could invoke their presence, Michael heard footsteps on the stairs outside of Liz’s apartment. He straightened, shutting the oven door, and waited while he heard someone fumbling with the lock. Keys. They were using keys. Which meant that there was the possibility that Liz didn’t know about the whole alien conspiracy.
Eventually the door swung open and he was greeted by the sight of Isabel first. Michael had to smile – he’d missed his sister. They’d taken up residence together, but only as siblings, and he’d grown to somewhat pine for her while she’d been gone.
Obviously, she’d missed him as much – she dropped her bag by the door and stepped in to greet him, hugging him tightly and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“I missed you so much, Michael!” she spouted, wiping a lipstick smudge from his face.
He nodded. “Likewise.” That was as much raw feeling as she was going to get from him.
They both turned and watched Max gently urge Liz through the door. Michael had expected her to be different, but now that he was seeing her for real he was somewhat taken aback. She seemed so small, so frail. And what had happened to all of her hair?
She looked at him with big doe eyes and he was instantly reminded of a frightened animal.
Clearing his throat, he disentangled himself from Isabel and offered Liz a hand to shake. “I’m Michael,” he said.
Liz looked down at his hand and then back into his face and seemed to recoil backward into Max, until she noticed how close Max was and then moved away from him.
She’s like a pinball, Michael mused as he slowly dropped his hand.
“Welcome home,” he offered in place of the physical contact.
She continued to stare at him, glued to one spot on the floor safely spaced between the three aliens.
Michael’s brow furrowed in curiosity. Did she sense there was something different about him? About all of them?
Isabel quickly stepped forward and Michael had the impression she’d been the peacekeeper. She took Liz gently by the arm and pulled her away from the boys and into the tiny living room.
“This is your home,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
Liz looked around at some of the furnishings, at her massive collection of books that Max had carried up the stairs without a word of complaint, and appeared to recognize none of it.
“I made something for dinner,” Michael said, struggling to help, but realizing he was pretty much helpless.
“I thought I smelled something good,” Max said, trying to infuse some positive energy into his voice.
Liz looked silently at Michael, but didn’t respond as to whether she was ready to eat or not.
Isabel reached over and smoothed Liz’s hair, being careful of her healing head wound. “It’s been a long day,” she said soothingly. “Let’s go relax for awhile, okay?”
Liz nodded slightly and Isabel led her down the hallway to her bedroom.
After they were gone, Michael let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He looked at Max and his expression said it all – Holy shit.
Max nodded in silent agreement and dropped his bag on top of Isabel’s.
“Dude,” Michael said slowly, “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well you should have seen her yesterday. She was about one pill short of drooling on herself.” He shook his head as he reached into the cupboard for some plates; he took three, knowing that Liz wouldn’t eat.
Michael was still staring down the hallway as Max opened the oven and pulled out the quiche. It looked good, but he raised an eyebrow in Michael’s direction.
“Quiche?” he said curiously.
Michael broke away from his hallway vigil, then replied, “I think there’s a magazine Liz wanted you to read over there on the coffee table.”
Liz never emerged from her bedroom that evening. Eventually Isabel came out, exhausted and had a slice of quiche with her brothers. After they were finished, they sat around the kitchenette table and talked in hushed tones about what to do next.
“Valenti says he might have the report by tomorrow,” Michael informed them. “Or maybe the day after.”
Max nodded. “Good. I just hope it gives us something to go on.”
“Me, too,” Isabel said, yawning. She reached over and patted Michael’s arm. “Take me home, Michael – I’m pooped.”
Michael raised his eyebrows slightly. “You guys aren’t leaving her here alone, are you?”
Max shook his head. “No, I’m going to stay.” On the couch, but he didn’t feel he needed to add that.
Michael checked the clock above the stove. “We should go, Iz. Maria’s taking the red eye tonight and if I’m not at the airport in an hour to get her, she’ll kick my ass.” He snorted. “That would be like her – I haven’t seen her in two years and the first thing she does is kick my ass.”
Isabel snorted a laugh, partly because it was funny but mostly because she realized that Michael was a little nervous about seeing Maria again. She pushed herself up, kissed Max on the cheek and went to the door to retrieve her bag.
Max watched them leave, then turned to look down the hallway. Liz’s door was still open and he could see that her light was on. He never thought that being alone with her would be such a lonely, foreign feeling.
*********
The hum of the airplane’s engines was finally starting to grate on Maria’s nerves. She felt like she’d been flying forever – first across the ocean, and now across the country. She couldn’t take any more bad food or the smell of stale coffee. It seemed a mystery to her that once upon a time airlines let people smoke on the planes – the effect had to have been suffocating.
Trying to humor herself during her last hour of flight, she pressed her face against the window and looked toward the ground far below. She could see neat little squares of land, outlined with streetlights, then nothing. Soon she would see another patch of squares as they flew over another city and she had to wonder just where they were. Was Roswell one of those little blobs of lights far below? She lifted one corner of her mouth in a snicker – if they’d been over Roswell, they would have had a UFO escort.
Bored with the scenery, she popped open her purse and pulled out a mirror. She reapplied some lipstick, then paused to look at her reflection. Maybe she should have changed a few things before she’d come home – maybe she should have dyed her hair back to its original color and lost the stud she now wore in her nose. A moment of dread spread throughout her body. What if the change was too drastic?
What if Liz didn’t recognize her?
********
Max picked up the magazine Michael had been referring to – a fashion magazine. Liz liked to look at them to see the latest trends in makeup and clothes, even though she rarely indulged in either. His eyes settled on the bold headline about having better orgasms and he snorted – Michael thought he was so funny.
It was late and Max was exhausted from driving all day, but he’d been unable to get any rest. He could still hear Liz thumping around in her bedroom and he couldn’t let himself sleep without knowing she was asleep first. If he’d had his way, he’d lock her in her room so she couldn’t sneak out on him.
Sighing, he got up from the couch and went to the cupboard. As he was stretching to take out the little wooden box Liz kept her tea bags in, he felt something grind into his thigh. He put the box on the counter and reached into his pocket – it was Liz’s ring. He frowned, wishing it was on her finger, then remembered that Dr. Lewis said Liz found the ring upsetting. Pushing away the pain of that realization, he dropped the ring into the bottom of the box for safe keeping.
Glancing down the hall to make sure he didn’t have an audience, Max heated two cups of water with his powers, then dunked a tea bag into each. He made his way quietly down the hallway and peeked into the room from a distance before he made his presence known. Liz was moving about the room, opening and closing drawers and doors. It was only natural that she should be curious about her “home.”
“Hi, Liz,” he said softly from her doorway.
She glanced up quickly, then went back to her snooping.
“Isabel and Michael are gone,” he said, wondering if Michael’s presence was the reason she’d been in her room for the last hour and a half.
Liz stood up quickly, looking a little cornered. “Isabel left?”
Max nodded.
“Are you staying?”
He nodded again.
She met his eyes for a long moment, then resumed her drawer opening.
“I brought you some tea,” Max said.
She looked up from the dresser where she was stooped. “Thank you,” she said.
He set the cup on her nightstand. “What are you looking for?” he asked, watching her pull out and push in one drawer after another.
“Something to sleep in,” she said.
Max eyed the smaller dresser on the other side of the room. Dare he tip his hand and let her know he knew where she kept her nighties? No, that would definitely be too much trauma. She didn’t even know they were involved – how would she take the fact that he knew where she kept her underwear?
But he couldn’t help the little smile that came to his face as he watched Liz pull a T-shirt from the drawer and hold it up appraisingly. It was a West Roswell High Athletic Department T-shirt – from Max’s one and only venture into organized sports. He’d always wanted to play, but the chance of getting hurt and getting unwanted medical attention had kept him from joining. But one summer he’d decided to try wrestling and the shirt was his one and only trophy. Watching her examine it, Max wondered if she had some recollection of the day she’d pulled it from his body, eager to touch him.
Liz touched the letters on the front of the shirt with her fingertips and murmured a word. Just one word.
Max felt his heart drop to his knees. “What did you say?”
She looked up, startled, and shook her head in denial, “Nothing.”
He eyed her cautiously, his urge to vomit close to the surface. She looked so terrified, like he was going to lash out at her or something. He forced himself to blow it off. “Okay, I just thought I heard you say something. If you need anything during the night, I’ll be right out in the living room.”
She nodded silently, her face a mask of riddled emotions.
“Good night,” he said, then turned quickly and left her room, closing the door behind himself.
He hadn’t taken but two steps when he realized his thoughts of having to lock Liz up might have been premature – it sounded like she flipped the lock as soon as he closed the door. He hesitated, realizing she wasn’t locking herself in, but rather locking him out.
Despondent, he walked back to the couch and tried to convince himself that it wasn’t the door lock he’d heard. But even if he couldn’t be sure he’d heard the lock just now, he could be sure he’d heard the word she’d spoken before that.
It had sounded an awful lot like “Kyle.”
tbc
Remember - he's only doing it because he has to