Chapter 10.
Winnaman Academy.
Vermont.
Liz snapped the phone into her bag as soon as she heard a footfall. Very cautiously she turned back and slightly opened the door, fully expecting to see Zan glowering at her.
Nothing.
Oh, thank GOD. Her mind went back to what Kyle had said. He burnt Michael up? Liz didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t believe that any form of Max would actually resort to something like that and to Michael of all people. An enemy she could understand, but his own brother? It seemed impossible. Then she remembered the imperious way he’d calmly ordered her to do his bidding. He’s probably capable of anything she thought with a disgusted shudder. Asshole. She surveyed the room once again and felt a slight wind chill her spine. Goosebumps broke out as she glanced behind her. She stopped in shock. Zan was regarding her with a slightly diabolical smile on his face.
“Oh my God…where did you come from?”
She expected another one of his glib answers but he didn’t say a word. He simply looked at her. Liz began to feel scared.
“Well?” she snapped, hating herself for the sliver of fear that was running through her at the look in his eyes. He looked dangerously calm. Coupled with the fact that he’d just burnt someone up, Liz was really scared at the moment.
“What did you say?”
She sighed. “Nothing.”
He still hadn’t looked away. Nor had his voice risen.
“What did you say to them?” he repeated.
Liz clutched her bag unconsciously. “I told you, nothing.”
Zan was still unnervingly quiet. He kept staring at her, a silent command in his gaze.
Finally Liz snapped. Angry at herself for bowing down to the insufferable bastard, she said indignantly.
“I just told them I was ok! For the moment.”
Zan scrubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “What did they say?”
Liz shifted from one foot to the other. How do you ask someone if they’d burnt someone else up without getting barbequed as well?
“They said they were under attack. By Skins.”
She was trying to downplay her fear but it was hard. Not only was she scared for herself but she was also terrified of what the hell was happening to her friends in Roswell.
“Attacked by Skins?”
“You sound surprised. We do know who they are. We ran into them once before.” Liz glared.
Zan straightened up. “Come on. We’re going.”
Liz felt a glimmer of hope. May be he wasn’t such a bastard after all. “Give me two minutes……” she trailed off, realizing that he had walked into the bathroom. Especially when it was already occupied. A red mist enveloped her.
“Hey. Hey! I was using the bathroom! How dare you just walk IN like that?”
Zan looked at her coolly. Her rage increased tenfold. Liz reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
“You listen and you listen good. You DO NOT invade my personal space like that, do you understand? I mean it, Zan. You’re not going to do this again.”
Zan looked first at her hand clutching his collar and then at her livid face.
“You don’t call other people behind my back.”
Liz seethed in disbelief. He just wasn’t going to give in! But this time she held her ground.
“Did you understand me?”
Zan watched as her face flushed with rage. He looked at her calmly. “Did you understand me?”
Liz felt the top of her head blow. She was sorely tempted to knee him where it would hurt the most but restrained herself. God knew what idea would get into him.
“I did, but did you?”
Zan nodded, almost amiably. “Even if I did, it doesn’t matter a damn because we’re playing this game my way.”
That was it. Liz didn’t know she could be so mad at another living person but Zan was already teaching her new levels of rage. And patience. She didn’t know how she could actually stand there and not sink a steak knife into his well-muscled chest and cut him open like a cadaver.
With great difficulty she restrained the urge to slaughter him and spoke, her voice shaking with barely concealed fury.
“Get out.”
Zan held his hand out for the phone. Liz stared in disbelief at his audacity and then pointedly turned her back on him. Bastard.
Zan hid a smile as he saw the tips of Liz Parker’s ears growing red. Ouch.
“Liz.”
She didn’t bother to turn around. Zan could see her anger and her pride evident in the rigid lines of her slim frame. She was going to make him say it.
He sighed silently. “Hand over the phone.”
In the mirror, their profiles were reflected. He saw Liz’s mouth form an O of sheer disbelief.
“The phone, Liz.”
Their eyes met in the mirror and Zan felt something kicking in his guts as her irate eyes slowly turned black with rage. He looked at her freezingly, stopping her angry movements with one cold look. Liz felt her fear flash through her again but didn’t lower her head. Instead she settled for another glare…but it was far more timid than the previous one. Zan smirked inwardly.
After a delightful first encounter, he’d put her down as smart, perceptive and angry. This one showed her strength of will. And pride. She had buckets of it. Zan smiled cruelly, knowing that the coming days were going to gall her no end.
Liz, feeling cornered and furious at kow-towing to Zan’s wishes with such ease, mentally lashed herself, knowing fully well that she’d give his snotty ass a wakeup call as soon as she had some time to call her own. And when she was a little less terrified of what he could do to her or Maria. She took her phone out and handed it to Zan, seeing his face form the usual indifferent lines.
“Go.” She told him coldly, trying to get back with false bravado.
Zan took the phone and left the room, closing the door behind him. Liz sank down on the edge of the bathtub, her knees weak from all the tension. She was scared as hell, she was pissed off and to top it all off, she was starting to feel glimmers of attraction at the oddest times. The fact that Zan was Max didn’t help any. After all, when she’d left him, there were a lot of bitter recriminations and a lot of heartache. Getting attracted to him again was not going to help her at all. Under the threat of an imminent attack, she didn’t need more angst distracting her already fully distracted mind.
Ok, Parker. Blow up a plan. She smiled self-deprecatingly. Me and my plans…well. First off, I’m NOT, repeat NOT going to rise to Zan’s bait. Fucker enjoys it too much. Secondly, I need to get him to Roswell, so that the rest at least get some help. Who knows what the hell the Skins will do. I need us to get to Roswell any way I can and if I have to charm the sonofabitch to do it, I will. Note to self, ignore the god-forsaken attraction. Liz sighed as she took off her top. I can’t help it. After all, it was always chemical between the two of us. It makes sense it passed onto Zan, too. And it isn’t even attraction…it’s a reaction to what WAS. Accept it. Don’t dwell on it. It’s not important. As for being scared of him, well, I just have to grit my teeth and bear it.
She was scared of Zan. This was the first time she felt that Max or rather, Zan was fully capable of hurting her. Every time he glanced at her with those freezing eyes he was telling her calmly not to underestimate him. And while Liz was scared, she was also NOT stupid. She didn’t dare underestimate him. So she decided to put up with his rantings and his insufferable attitude because if she wound up hurt, she’d be no use to anybody. And that was unacceptable. What made matters worse was the fact that she was genuinely pissed at Zan. Her rage was making her more vulnerable to his constant jeers because her anger blew each and every one of her own defenses. Talk about pathetic. She was being irrationally angry at Zan and she was slowly starting to get why.
More than anything, she had wanted a little break from the alien chaos. Now she was back, sitting smack-dab in the middle of it all. Once again. And his being another form of Max…..well, suffice to say she hadn’t gotten over her anger at F.Max yet. All her frustrations over that fiasco, coupled with her fear and anger at her own self for taking Zan’s crap was making her blood boil, pushing for a release from all the turbulent emotions that had besieged her mind. And since Zan had decided to make himself present, of course, the brunt was being shed on him. The trouble was, suppose it got too far. I have no idea of what this guy is actually capable of. It would be amazingly stupid of me to push him in this condition. And considering the fact that he’s practically warned me not to egg him on, it’d hardly be wise if I let my pride talk instead of my head.
Her mind made up, Liz jumped into the shower.
Zan stood in the middle of Liz’s room, a duffel bag open on the bed. He opened a drawer and took some clothes out. He smiled when he saw a red shirt lying on the bottom of the stack. He remembered how she’d looked that day in Michael’s apartment….wild, elemental. That was one side of Liz Parker he knew very well, just not first-hand. Well, that’s something that’s going to have to be remedied. It’ll fit in perfectly with my plans for her.
He chuckled softly, almost envisioning the fit Liz was going to throw when she found out that he’d packed for her. God, the girl was a hard-assed one. He thought back to the way she’d fidgeted about the call. Guilt. I can definitely use that. She was also very frightened. Hardly surprising. I wonder what gory descriptions Michael laid into her that she was so terrified. He snorted self-deprecatingly. While he knew she was scared of him, she was hardly scared to death. As much as he would’ve wished otherwise but Liz Parker wasn’t so scared of him that she couldn’t think straight. She was highly determined. And it wasn’t hard to see what was on her mind. She wanted to go back to Roswell.
Too fucking bad, Elizabeth. You’re just going to have to deal.
He zipped up the duffel bag and looked around the room, trying to see what she had there that would come in handy. Hearing her rapid steps, Zan looked up as Liz came into the room. He stopped as he took in her freshly-bathed form. Her skin was tinged pink from the hot water and the steam had probably made her creamy skin even softer. Her hair was wet and it fell like an inky waterfall down her robe-clad back. A subtle yet strong smell of strawbehries and sandalwood filled the room. Zan almost closed his eyes as the familiar and much-loved smell tickled his senses. Liz stared at him, puzzled.
“What are you doing?”
His eyes snapped open. Here it comes. “I packed a bag for you. Now get your essentials and let’s go.”
Liz was incredulous. “What didn’t you get? I TOLD you to stop nosing around in my stuff!”
“I need for us to get to the car in another minute. That’s only about enough time for you to get dressed and probably, if you’re really fast, to pack another bag. Tell me what’s so wrong. And while you’re at it, hurry up because I am not going to be late.”
Liz was infuriated. “I’ll tell you ‘what’s so wrong,’ Your Majesty.” Her voice dripped with acid. “Here in this planet, we do have norms and a few courtesies that you’re supposed to follow. They’re not so hard to remember. Allow me to teach you the first one – you respect other people’s privacy.”
Zan looked at her with a polite smile. “And?” he said, indicating his watch.
“‘AND’”??? Talk about nerve. Liz skewered him with her eyes as her fear and her plans for keeping a cool head flew away.
“You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me the rest and to get dressed. Now…do you want to do this here or in the car?”
Liz, her patience nearly at an end with the guy’s arrogance, was deeply grateful that there were no sharp objects around her. She could’ve stabbed him to death with pleasure. Instead, she settled for a dismissive look and pulled out a passably bored tone.
“I’ll see if I can hammer anything into that thick, empty skull of yours later. For now, do your thing and get the car ready.”
Zan inclined his head in a sarcastic bow. “Yes, my Lady.”
The age-old gesture looked strangely familiar on Zan and Liz swallowed at the vivid picture he created, looking like an arrogant king bowing down with mockery written in every line of him. Why do I forget? He’s Royalty. Alien status notwithstanding, they are the types to do these regal gestures to perfection. After all, they created it. Her mood growing sulky with each passing moment, she glared rebelliously at Zan. He smiled at her but it never reached his eyes. Liz stared into a face that had been and probably still was so beloved to her and she, not for the first time, saw the differences in Zan and Max. Max’s eyes would’ve lit up with that sort of a smile. Zan made it look sinister. She sighed morosely, feeling her fear creep back into her. Kill me now.
“You’re wasting your precious time.” She told him curtly, unable to stop taking refuge in anger as her fear escalated. But she almost smiled with delight at the slight frown that crossed his face at her jibe. Gotcha. His frown smoothed out and he glanced at her ominously and she hurriedly wiped the smirk from her face.
Zan walked out the room and Liz grabbed her clothes. She hadn’t been feeling too thrilled, dressed only in her bathrobe and confronting Zan all at the same time. Hurriedly she pulled on washed-out jeans and grabbed a black cashmere turtleneck that was hanging in her closet. Grabbing her black coat, she seized her bag from the dresser, checking to see if her stuff was there. They were. She scribbled out another note to Maria, telling her who Zan really was and that Skins were in Roswell. Seeing that only a second or two was left, she snapped the switches off and went down to the drive outside.
She spotted Zan standing near a black Mustang and she smiled a little, grateful beyond words that the Chevelle was gone. That car brought out her worst and lowest memories….things she’d rather forget. As she approached, he got in and started up the car. Liz was stunned by his cavalier attitude. He didn’t even bother to wait for her, much less open the freakin’ door. Her temper at an all time high, she got in and slammed the door, feeling a burst of childish pleasure as Zan slung an irritated look at her. She returned it with one of her own and stared out the windshield, feeling decidedly immatured.
After an hour of driving, the frigid atmosphere inside the car was ready to rival Vermont in winter. This time, Zan was the first to break the silence. Liz had been keeping her mouth shut diligently.
“Do you know any place where we can get decent food here?”
He winced. Even he knew how lame he sounded. Like he couldn’t pick out a restaurant by himself.
Liz didn’t deign to reply at first, determined to pay him back.
Zan scowled. Fine. Be like that. See where it gets you.
After an hour of driving around in circles, he stopped the car. And he turned to face a giggling Liz. His patience ran out as she gave in to her urges and laughed herself silly. Howling with laughter, she slumped in her seat. It grated on his nerves.
“Ok. Now that you’ve had your fun, do you think you can help?”
Liz snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. “Give me one good reason.”
Zan sighed, exasperated but kept his voice even. “Just do it.”
Liz regarded him warily. She knew this was probably one chance she had of getting back at him but her more responsible nature was slowly taking over. After all, there was an emergency. She calmed her aching sides down and got the map out from the glove compartment, looking archly at Zan as he sat there with his anger slowly dissipating.
Perusing the map for a moment, she glanced out at the street. It was 9:00 at night and in the winter, it looked colder and more darker than she’d known night to be. Of course every night since Max was taken by the FBI had been darker than she’d ever known but this was new. Something in her blood was screaming to be let loose on the darkness. She wanted to feel it, she wanted to soak it in her skin and keep it there.
Feeling surprised at the dark thoughts coursing through her, she bent her head to her task and after a few minutes of concentration, found out their location. She sighed. If Zan had taken two lefts instead of the last two right turns, they’d have been on their way to the main exit, heading south towards home. And he yaps about not wanting to waste time. MEN. She rolled her eyes.
“Here.” She pointed out the spot on the map. “We’re here.”
Zan nodded. He revved the engine and while the sound was the highest, he muttered a low but definitely not sarcastic “Thank you.”
Liz smirked at him. “What’s that?”
Zan huffed inwardly but smiled at her coolly. “I said thank you.”
Liz smiled gleefully. SCORE!!!
“You’re entirely welcome.” NOT!!! Not after all the trouble I went through, you SOB. Her stomach growled in protest and she remembered she hadn’t ever got to that pizza.
“Zan?”
He flicked a look at her, the headlights of the on-coming car lighting up his face.
“What?”
SHE didn’t want to sound like a kid but there was hardly any way around it.
“I’m really hungry.”
Zan smiled at her wryly. “I told you to name a place.” Knowing fully well Liz was going to explode.
Liz was hungry and she was pissed off. She did. “I KNEW you’d say ‘I told you so’! God, could you be any more immatured?”
Zan smiled. She looked tremendously angry at that point. Knowing a compliant partner was going to save time, he pulled over to the nearest diner he could find.
Liz was out of the car and running in before he had even cut the engine. Swearing under his breath, Zan locked the car and followed her in.
It was one of those typical steakhouses. The air was smoky with the smell of meat cooking and a fire blazed in the fireplace, warding off the darkness and the cold outside. He spotted Liz at the booth nearest to the fire, rubbing her nose, trying to thaw it. He smiled at the picture she made and something within him screamed for release. Begged for it. Her hair, lit by the fire, seemed molten. Her winter-white skin was glowing in the firelight, throwing shadows around her lovely features. She was a picture of perfection as she sat there, desperate to warm her frozen nose as she rubbed it like a five year-old.
He hesitated for another second, taking her in before joining her at the table.
Liz looked up as he sat down. He looked…calm. She was beginning to know this look. It read dangerous. What now? She wondered crossly.
“Well?”
“Well. Have you ordered?”
She stared at him. “I just got here.”
He smirked. “Judging from the head start you took, I figured the food was halfway done.”
“Hey. YOU disrupted my meal and then you have the gall to sit here and poke fun?”
“I do.” He said, his eyes narrowing.
“Whatever.” Liz mumbled, a bit scared. She was just too hungry to trade insults with her personal alien. She glanced fleetingly at him and a flash of pain went through her. He wasn’t hers. Never had been.
Oh, Max.
Zan saw the sorrow etched on her face as she had glanced momentarily looked at him and he wondered in how many ways she was missing Max. And if that letter was anything to go by, I’d say not much. He snickered inwardly.
The waitress took their order and went off, leaving them alone. Zan felt extremely tired. He didn’t know how the hell he was going to drive today. He’d been in that car non-stop from Roswell and the thought of crossing the country twice over in a fortnight wasn’t the best of all news. To top it all off, Nicolas was back in business. Now he knew for sure that the guy with the cheroot was in all possibilities, talking about the Roswell set. Fuck’em. I’ve got more on my head and the last thing I need is to go handle their situation for them. Grow up, dipshits. Learn to survive. His head pounding abominably all of a sudden, he glared at the red chequered tablecloth. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough, now he was with a girl who, in all likelihood wanted him stretched out on some medieval rack. He felt another wave of terror and helplessness come down on him and realized for the first time, it was his so-called human nature trying to break free. Max he thought darkly. Great, as if I wasn’t fighting on all fronts, now I have to fight inside my own head? How do I get myself into these situations? He silently asked the cloth, daring it to answer him.
It of course, remained mute. FUCKER.
Sighing, he looked up to meet Liz’s wide, worried eyes. He sighed again, already knowing what was coming. Not now. But Liz wasn’t about to be deterred. She pounced on him as soon as he glanced her way.
“Zan. We’ve got to get Roswell ASAP. How about if we take a plane or something? We need to get there fast but driving will take a week.”
Zan rolled his eyes, amused at her bossy tone. “We’re not going.”
Liz gaped at him. “What are you, CRAZY!?!” she hissed at him. “They need help, goddammit!”
Zan looked bored. “They can do without it.”
“No! They can’t! C’mon, you burnt Michael up! How do you expect them to defend themselves? We’ve gotta go over there if we want them alive!”
Zan groaned. “Liz. Not now.”
Liz stared at him, aghast. “When, then? After their funerals? No! You listen to me. I already lost a friend. I refuse to lose more!”
“I thought you didn’t like Michael and Vi-Isabel much.” He jeered softly.
Liz glared at him. “I always tried to help them all, not just my kind.” She said bitterly. “And besides, Kyle’s there. I won’t abandon him.”
Zan looked into her eyes directly. “You’re going to have to. Let them handle their own fucking mess. You and I have more important jobs to tend to, we don’t have the time to baby-sit people who can’t manage their own problems.”
Liz was taken aback at his callous answer but what shocked her most of all was the decisive way he said it all. She knew it then…he wasn’t going to help the Roswell folks one bit. It was in his eyes. He didn’t give a damn.
She wanted to wail. Kyle, Michael, Isabel, Jesse, Valenti…they were all going to get slaughtered like cattle and she was helpless to do one damn thing about it. And the one person who could help, the one person who was capable of fixing the entire sick mess was sitting across her with a determined look in his otherwise tired eyes. Liz felt tears of rage and helplessness prick dangerously at her own and she resolutely turned away, determined not to give him the satisfaction of watching her cry.
Zan saw the warring emotions on her face and wondered if it was even safe to be near Liz when she was in such close proximity to a steak knife. He felt like a ten ton weight was sitting on his chest. One problem or the other kept popping their ugly heads and Zan was tired with it all. And Max was filling him with his terror for his family back home. Now while Zan could appreciate some of the instincts Max had, he did NOT appreciate fear. May be it was because he was so dog-tired. Or maybe it was because of Max coming out due to Liz’s proximity. He didn’t know but he was being made to care. And he didn’t like that feeling either. Desperate to shut her up, he snapped.
“I’m not going to go to their rescue. I’ve got enough to deal with.”
Liz snapped her angry, tear-stained eyes at him. “Selfish to the very end.” She said bitterly.
Zan glared at her. “Keep your lectures to yourself.”
“Why, you miserable coward?” she was mad as hell and wasn’t pulling any punches.
Zan looked at her, his eyes a frozen waste. “You’ll never get it.”
“What ‘it’?” she glared at him balefully.
“You plan on going back to Antar and kicking Khivar off your precious throne or something?” she sneered, furious at being in a catch 22. She couldn’t bail on Max but she couldn’t just leave her friends to fend for themselves when they were so obviously outgunned. Liz felt like tearing her hair in frustration. She never in her life expected Zan to answer her positively.
But he did. He smiled at her coldly and simply said. “Yes.”
I'll go hide now.....
Xsara.
Here it is...