Disclaimer : I, in no way, am associated with the actors, writers, producers, etc. of 'Roswell'. The rights to the show are not mine. Category : M&L
Rating : YTEEN
Summary : Holiday reading. In this case, a Max and Liz Christmas. Except that they come from different worlds. And don't know each other. Caution - It's a bit dark in the beginning.
Note : Thank you to Jen and Jacki for their help.
Part 1
D'Arlio's on Connecticut Avenue, near Dupont Circle, was one of, if not the finest restaurant in all of Washington, DC. Some argued that it was the best on the whole eastern seaboard while others voiced the opinion that there was no finer establishment in the whole of mainland U.S.A. The ambience created by the intimate, secluded tables, the muted lighting and the candles set upon each table certainly helped give it that certain... 'je ne sais quoi' And now, with Christmas less than two weeks away, the tastefully muted festive décor helped to add to an already accentuated mood. With three top chefs, imported directly from the L'Ecole d'Noveau Cuisine in Paris, France, the food was unparalleled anywhere within the continent of North America. The food was quite literally, to die for. The clientele, too, was not your average range of people. Senators, Cabinet members, senior diplomats, certain powerful governors, visiting heads of state, film stars and musicians all frequented the establishment. It was not uncommon to try to book a table, only to find the restaurant closed by the Secret Service while the President himself dined there. Indeed, unless Monsieur D'Arlio was a close and personal friend of yours, you could expect to have to book your table up to six months in advance. Of course, such a phenomenal restaurant came at a price. D'Arlio's was also reputed to be the most expensive restaurant, anywhere.
Kyle Valenti placed the cake fork onto the now empty plate, littered only with a smear of the rich chocolate sauce and a handful of most crumbs and leaned back in his seat. He reached out and lifted the brandy snifter, bringing it to his lips where he took a sip.
"You just can't beat this," he sighed. "Good restaurant..." Kyle waved his hand in the air. "Good food," he indicated the empty plates on the table. "And beautiful company."
Across the remains of the sumptuous repast, gazing into Kyle's eyes over the short stub of the burning candles, Tess Harding could only smile.
"You're too kind," she batted her eyelashes at him. Tess reached her hand across and placed it over Kyle's. "It's been a wonderful night. I've had a great time. Thank you."
"Ah," Kyle smiled. "But it's not over yet."
"Theatre," Tess smiled. "Dinner at D'Arlio's. And something else, too? Just how long have you been planning this, Kyle?"
"Months," he chuckled. "And don't even ask what it must have cost me. We've known each other since we were, what? Five years old. Growing up, it's been about the seven of us. The magnificent seven, everybody called us. You, me, Michael, Maria, Isabel, Jesse and Max. We were always together. Inseparable. Well, at least up to last fall when Max decided to go to college clear across the country at UCLA instead of the Ivy Leagues with the rest of us."
"We sure had a lot of fun," Tess sighed. "But you know why Max decided to go to UCLA."
"Yeah," he nodded. "I do. And it's because of that... I mean... Tess?" Kyle lifted her hand. He moved from his seat and knelt before her. Somewhere, the music changed to a single violin playing a romantic tune. "I have always loved you. Always. From the first moment I knew what love was all about, I knew that it was you I loved. And I knew too, that I would do anything to win your heart. Spare no expense. Hence, tonight. Tess Harding?" Kyle pulled out a brown, felt covered box. He opened it to display a gold ring with a huge diamond sparkling in the candle light. Would you do me the honor of accepting my proposal? Will you marry me, Tess?"
"Oh, Kyle," tears stung Tess's eyes. "You know I've loved you too. You know how dear you are to me. And any girl would be a fool to say no to you, but..."
"Yeah," Kyle nodded, feeling a little foolish now. "I understand."
"You know that I'm still seeing Max," Tess looked down at the tablecloth, running her free hand across it.
"He doesn't deserve you, Tess," Kyle shook his head. "I mean, he cleared off to California without even discussing it with you. And I know how much family means to you. Max can barely stand to be around his. He and Isabel haven't spoken since our Prom, god knows when he last talked to his mom..."
"Step-mom," Tess interrupted.
"Step-mom," Kyle amended. "And his relationship with his father is... Heck. You know yourself. And you know his views on Christmas. I know how much you love it. He's been gone four months and he hasn't made one visit back. Not even to see you."
"We talk every night," Tess shrugged.
"And you think that's good enough, Tess? You deserve better."
"I've been dating Max since we were fifteen. I think our families kind of expect us to get married."
"Things change," Kyle shrugged. "And you know your families will accept it. Does he treat you like this, Tess? Like you should be treated? Does he treat you like a... a queen? Does he even plan to propose to you?"
Tess's eyes went distant as she considered her relationship with Max Evans.
"I'll tell you what, Kyle," she nodded, looking at him with affection. Love, even. "You hang on to that ring. Keep it close. If Max Evans hasn't got down on his knees in front of me and proposed by nine p.m., Christmas Eve, then I will accept your proposal."
"Do you really mean that?" Kyle narrowed his eyes.
"Of course I do," Tess smiled. "Come Christmas Day, I will be engaged. Whether to you or to Max... May the best man win."
"Ah, like a competition?" Kyle raised his eyes.
"If you like," Tess smirked. "I've always known how competitive you and Max were."
"And... is all fair in love and war?"
"Of course," Tess nodded. "Though I can't see how you could possibly prevent Max from proposing to me, once he knows that I'll marry you if he doesn't."
"All I can say, Tess, is, how does an Easter Wedding sound?"
"How appropriate," she grinned. "I heard that you were just like a rabbit."
* * *
They had grown up together. At first, it was Kyle and Max. Not friends, exactly, more like rivals. The friendship grew after Kyle spent a fruitless two years chasing after Max's twin sister, Isabel. When they attended the Lexington Academy, a private high school, Tess joined the group when she became friends with Isabel, and with a crush on Max, started to hang out with the guys. Jesse Ramirez was the next to join their ranks when his family, wealthy landowners with a lineage that reached as far back as the Armada, moved into one of the large houses down the street from Max. When the DeLuca's moved from Los Angeles, Mr DeLuca following his job in the defense sector, their daughter, Maria soon became friends with Isabel and Tess, even though she was one year younger, and a year behind at the Academy. With Max and Tess dating, as well as Isabel and Jesse, Kyle started to pursue the blonde haired spitfire. That pursuit ended after Mrs. Deluca divorced Maria's father when she found him with his secretary. Maria's mom and Kyle's dad started dating soon after. By the time the divorce came through, Kyle and Maria were brother and sister. Michael Guerin was the next to arrive. Although his family did not belong to the rich set that the others were members of, Michael and his no nonsense demeanor soon became Max's best friend. As a result, his family was invited to the social gatherings and, hesitant at first, found out that no one judged them because they still had things like overdrafts and a mortgage. Still, because of connections made, Hank Guerin's small company grew and while not in the same league as the others, the Guerins were comfortably well off. Surprisingly, considering that everyone assumed they hated one another, Michael and Maria started dating. The septet were constant companions all through high school, practically ruling the Lexington Academy. It helped that after Max's mother died, Philip, his father, started dating Diane Havering, the academy's principal. They were married during Max's junior year. With the exception of Maria who had another year of high school, the gang graduated together. And with the exception of Max who went to UCLA, they all accepted places at Ivy League colleges.
* * *
In a small dormitory at the University of California Los Angeles, Maxwell Evans was packing for his journey home. Packing was a slight misnomer, as all that he placed in his suitcase were a couple of UCLA sweatshirts, a thick sweater for the colder climate back home, and a few clean pairs of boxers and socks, in case the ones at home needed replacing. It had been a while since he was there last. Four months at least.
"Ah, man," the short, blond boy groaned. "This sucks, dude."
"What does, Jez?" Max Evans, tall, dark hair, amber eyes, a body that made girls swoon looked up from packing his small suitcase.
"This," Jeremy Vann, better known to his buddies as 'Jez' indicated Max's suitcase. Jez was Max's roommate. "You, going home."
"It's Christmas," Max shrugged.
"But dude! You don't even like Yule. I was looking forward to having you hang out so I could score with the disappointed chicks that you brush off. And you're gonna miss that charity bash."
"Charity begins at home," Max smirked. "So don't expect me to donate any of my hard earned cash."
"I was also looking forward to partying with my best bud every night."
"Don't you have any family?" Max wrapped a small black box in a pair of socks and tucked it into the case.
"Dude!" the smaller boy smirked. "You met my dad. Do you really think I want to go home and listen to him rant and rail against our foreign policy and how he could show those terrorists a thing or two? Or how much could I take from the younger sis begging me to set the two of you up on a date? And my mom. Stuffing me 'cause I look like I lost weight. No way, man. I'll stay and hit the waves instead."
"Well, unlike you," Max closed his case and snapped the catches shut. "I have family to see, friends to meet and a girl to propose to."
"No way! Total bummer, man. Married? You?"
"Not married," Max shook his head. "Just propose. I won't get married till I leave college."
"Sez you, dude," Jez shook his head. "First, it'll be, like, 'Max, lets get engaged'. Then it's... 'Max, I found this totally awesome place and guess what? They have an opening this spring'. And the next thing I know, I get a new roomy 'cause my old one transferred back east to be with the little wifey."
"Tess isn't that bad," Max shook his head.
"Max, buddy?" Jez clapped an arm around his shoulder. "Trust me. There ain't no chick alive that don't have some hidden agenda. What about kids?"
"Look," Max looked up from his packing. "Just because I'm getting engaged, it does not mean I will get married yet. And as for kids? No way. Not this guy."
"So what's with the rush? If you ain't gonna get married soon, why even get engaged?"
"'Cause if I don't, she's going to marry Kyle Valenti."
"You said his name like it's a bad thing," Jez narrowed his eyes.
"Duh," Max rolled his eyes. "He was my biggest rival all through high school. It was always down to him and me. Trying to prove who was best. And he's been after Tess ever since I started dating her. And I'll be damned if I let him steal her right from under my nose."
"And this is like an extension of your game? Dude, all I can say is, the prize must be worth it."
"The Harding's are probably the tenth richest family in the whole of DC. We're close behind and the Valenti's, well, ever since Kyle's dad married Amy DeLuca, they're pretty rich now, too. So, yeah. I'd say it was. To both of us."
"She a looker?"
"See for yourself," Max reached into his case and lifted out his picture of Tess.
"Hot," Jez nodded. "Total babe, dude. So why she making you compete?"
"Because he asked her to marry him last night. I have till nine p.m., Christmas Eve to propose to her on bended knee, or Kyle wins. And I have never lost to Kyle Valenti yet."
"So you're going to, like endure... Christmas at home, which you totally hate, with your family who you don't get on with, just for Tess? You must be totally wacko about her, man."
"It's not that I hate Christmas, per se," Max ran his hands through his hair. "It's the whole... commercialism for one thing. That and the stupid family traditions."
"Okay, dude," Jez shook his head. "You're gonna have to explain that one to me. That went a little..." He passed his hand across the top of his head.
"See," Max sat down on the edge of his bed. "When my Mom... my... real mom, was alive, we used to follow this tradition. Me and Izzy - that's my twin sister... - would get ready for bed. Then, in our P.J.'s, we'd go downstairs and we'd hang our Christmas stockings on the chimney."
"We used to lay ours at the end of our bed," Jez nodded.
"Then, we'd have a glass of milk, and some cookies..."
"Oreos?" Jez raised an eye. "What? It's gotta be Oreo's, dude. Santa won't eat nothing else." He started to sing. "A kid'll eat the middle of an Oreo..."
"Want me to continue?" Max smirked.
"It's your story, amigo."
"Thanks. So anyway, when that was done, we'd wait for a while, as the guests started to arrive."
"Whoa-wo-wo-wo-wo," Jex waved hand. "What guests?"
"My folks always hold this big Christmas Eve party. Really elegant, you know? Cocktail dresses, penguin suits, the whole nine yards. Our closest friends, including the Guerins, the Hardings, Valentis and the Ramrirez families always arrived between eight and nine. Everyone else turned up after nine. Anyway, once the good friends arrived, Iz and I went up to bed. In the morning, we had to get washed and dressed first. Then breakfast. Finally, when everyone was ready, Dad would unlock the door to the living room, and we would rush in. It was so magical. We would stand there with our mouths open and just... gape." Max had a sad smile on his face as he remembered. "During the party, the night before, it had been this plain empty room, set up for a party. Now it was a magical kingdom. A tree had appeared, and was decorated. Streamers and balloons, ribbons, lights, tinsel... everywhere. It was..." There was a far away look in Max's eye.
"Awesome," Jez finished.
"Yeah," Max nodded, looking at his roomie. "And our stockings, and Mom and Dad's, were stuffed full, and the tree grew out of a mountain of presents."
"Sounds great."
"It was," Max nodded. "Then my Mom died. The next year, we didn't do any of it. We didn't have the heart. But then my Dad met Diane. And when she heard about what we used to do, she made us do it again. Only it wasn't so... magical. By then, we knew the truth about Santa Claus. And we found out that the room got decorated by everyone at the party. And it just wasn't the same any more. But Diane, she keeps stuffing the tradition in our faces and all I can remember was that happy time before Mom died, when it was all so... innocent and... Don't get me wrong. I like Diane... sorta... but... she's just hard to take at Christmas. She's like this Christmas... So I always try to be away. I haven't spent Christmas at home these last two years. It's just not the same anymore."
"So, they still do it?"
"Yeah," Max sighed. "Right down to the stupid glass of milk and cookies for Santa and a carrot for the reindeer."
"Okay," Jez nodded. "You got like, five whole days before Christmas Eve. Why not stay for a few?"
"Because," Max held up his flight ticket. "See this? This is like gold dust. Do you know how hard it was to get a flight home? I doubt there's an empty seat on any plane leaving LAX for the eastern seaboard this side of New Years."
"You could drive," Jez suggested. "Or catch a train."
"Either way, it would take me four days. So I'd still have to leave now. Besides. I have everything planned out down to the taxi arriving to pick me up at," Max pulled his sleeve back and checked his watch. "Twelve ten precisely. It will drop me off at the airport precisely forty five minutes later. Twelve fifty five. I know, I checked last week. It will take me fifteen minutes to get across the terminal to the check-in desk. I will be through the security checks and into the departure lounge exactly two hours before take off which is ten past three ten. I have everything planned and ready, down to the last second."
"Man," Jez shook his head. "You know there are still people who don't believe me when I tell them about you? Talk about being in control."
"We're in our first year at college, Jez," Max rolled his eyes. "The high standards we set now will stand us in good stead for the future."
"I bet your wedding'll be something else," Jez smirked. "Like a fricken railway timetable. All ABOARD!"
* * *
Liz Parker sat on a grubby and torn vinyl chair, at a worn table with a scratched and chipped Formica top, surrounded by filth and deterioration. A stack of battered and torn textbooks also surrounded her. Even the clothes she wore had seen better days. She wore a faded pair of denim overalls over a worn and faded shirt. Both items of clothing were hand-me-downs, clothes that her stepfather had grown out of that Liz had modified to fit her much smaller frame. Over her head, she wore an old, faded LA Dodgers baseball cap, into which she had tucked all of her hair, more out of habit now, but initially to hide the fact that it was lank and greasy. She did her best to keep the trailer clean but she had so much to do. If she wasn't doing her home work, she was cleaning the trailer home behind the other occupants. That is, when she wasn't at school, or at her job at a local clothing factory that wasn't even officially there, flouted every health and safety law going, and paid such a low wage it was almost better to not work there at all. Her normal day could be broken into four equal sections.
From nine a.m. until three thirty, Liz attended a local high school. The school was, without a doubt, the worst in LA. The male students had split into drug gangs and there was hardly a young girl in attendance that wasn't being lined up by one pimp or another. It wasn't that the inner city slum was on the wrong side of the tracks, so much as actually on them. The school and the trailer park in which she lived were virtually surrounded by the freight yards that served the whole of Los Angeles. It was not a neighborhood you wanted to grow up in, unless you had nowhere else. And given that the school was home to the worst of the petty criminals, thugs and pushers, pimps, whores and crack heads, the best lesson that they could be taught would have been "Prison Survival." In spite of this, Liz did her best to maintain her 'C' average. She was not a popular student amongst the faculty members, or the other students for that matter. Branded a troublemaker, she had been warned that she would be expelled if she so much as missed a single day through unauthorized absence, or if she dropped below a 'C' average. With her reputation, she had no leeway to maneuver.
From three thirty till six, she was able to cook and clean, as best she could under the circumstances, and do her homework. At six, her stepfather would arrive home from whatever work he had managed to pick up that day. If he had found no work, there were other places he went, but he arrived home promptly at six and expected his dinner on the table in front of him. And he would always be drunk.
From six thirty till two thirty a.m., Liz worked at a local sweat shop, sewing together skirts and dresses for Arturo Jimenez, a local entrepreneur who put the local 'minorities' - mainly those who were obviously illegal immigrants - to work. Because of Liz's mother being of Mexican descent, she fell within Arturo's acceptable demographics and was given a job. She eagerly accepted the low wages because she could not find any other work anywhere else. Who else would employ anyone from the ghettos?
From two thirty a.m. until seven a.m., Liz slept; the only time she truly had to herself. From seven till nine, Liz got everyone in the family ready for the day ahead, squeezed in what study she could and made sure everyone left for school or work - if there was any to be had - on time. At weekends, or holidays, the only thing that changed was school. Liz used that time to her finish her homework assignments and catch up on her studies, but more often than not, she worked an extra shift at Arturo's. As today was the first day of the school's Christmas break, Liz had spent the day completing her homework so that she could work more shifts at Arturo's. Perhaps she would be able to persuade Arturo to pay the money to her instead of her father, so that she might use some of it to buy Sam a Christmas present this year. The first one, ever.
The alarm clock perched at the top of a mountain of books started to bleat. Liz checked the time, and seeing that it was nearly six, she gathered all of the books together, stacking them in a pile on an old orange crate in the corner of the room. She went through to the kitchen and took her father's dinner from the small oven. She placed the heated plate of food on the table just as her father squeezed through the trailer door. Jeff Parker was a tall man, but very overweight. His dungarees were as tattered and worn as Liz's, but infinitely more dirty. Every seam groaned under the stress his heavy weight put them under. He was breathing hard, from the exertion of his walk home. Liz groaned when she smelled the alcohol and cigarette smoke on him from where she stood. He had found no work today and instead, had spent the day drinking homemade moonshine in Grizzly Pete's, an illegal drinking den at the back of the trailer park. Jeff slumped into the seat and using his fork alone, tucked into the food that Liz had placed in front of him. Leaving him to eat, Liz retreated to the bathroom, to wash, ready for her evenings shift.
"You sure are purty," her father growled as she emerged, tucking her raven hair back into her cap.
"Uh," Liz swallowed. She didn't like it when her stepfather paid her compliments like that. It meant only one thing. "Thank you."
"Where's the brat?" he looked around.
"Uh... she's with Janet and Megan. She's uh... staying the night."
"So we'll be alone huh?" her stepfather grinned.
"I have to go to work," she indicated the door, trying to sidle toward it.
"Well, you just shake your purty little tail home as soon as you can, honey," Jeff leered at her. "Cause you know that since your momma decided to split, it's up to you to take her place. Seein' as you look like her and all.
"Don't talk like that, Daddy," Liz shook her head. "Please don't... not again..."
"You shut your mouth you godam whore!" he barked, slamming his fist on the table. "What's the matter? Your daddy not good enough for you? You put out for those losers out there but not for your hard working old man? You're just like your mamma. Bitch. Shoulda never taken her in. Either of you. But you're here now and it's time for you to earn your keep."
With tears welling in her eyes, Liz bolted from the trailer. She knew that she would be sleeping outdoors tonight. Again. As the screen door slammed shut behind her, Liz slammed into something. Something that gave with a muffled grunt.
"Sean!" Liz gasped.
"Parker," Sean De'Luca wheezed. "Where are you off to in such a fucking rush?" Behind him, his two mountains of muscle watched with impassive eyes. Two of the biggest men Liz had ever seen.
"Work," Liz tried to move around him but he grabbed her arm.
"You still working for Arturo?"
Liz nodded.
"I told you, girl. You could earn a whole lot more if you came to work for me."
"Uh, no," Liz shook her head. "I'm uh, not... interested."
"Why not? I mean, I hear your giving it up for free, anyway. Why not earn some cash for it. That way, you can pay back the three hundred bucks you owe me."
"Three hundred?" Liz gasped. "I only borrowed fifty! And I've paid half that back."
"You're forgetting the compound interest, sister," Sean tried to place an arm around her shoulder.
"I'm not your sister," she spat. "And you never said anything about interest. You said it was a loan, one friend to another."
"Well, baby," he licked his lips. "Seems you aren't reciprocating with the friendship. I looked that word up, by the way."
"I thought it had too many syllables for you," she sneered.
"And if you worked for me," he ignored her, "I could protect you from your stepfather. He won't try to rape you no more."
"I can handle him," she shook her head.
"Not what I heard," Sean smirked. "Word on the street says that the kid's his. How old were you? Twelve? Thirteen?"
Liz remained silent.
"So I'll tell you what. You either work for me - I'll keep seventy-five percent of what you make - or you work 'for' me, babe. Choice is yours."
Liz tried to walk away but Sean's rather large goons stopped her, each grabbing an arm.
"Bring her," he ordered. "One way or another, I'm getting my money's worth."
As Liz struggled to escape her captor's grip, a cell phone started to ring. Sean pulled the phone from his pocket.
"What?" he snapped. "Oh. It's you. A deal, you say? Okay. Sounds... fairly simple. But that kind of venture will cost." Sean's eyes fell upon Liz. His eyes lit up. His face broke into a smile. "Yeah. And I got me just the person. She's guaranteed to please."
* * *