Left Behind (CC/UC, AU, Mature) COMPLETE -- 3/29/05

[JO]

many, many thanks to LongTimeFan for the wonderful art (and for beta-ing. You rock, Liz!!)

Author: JO
Title: Left Behind
Category: Liz POV, CC with hints of UC, post-Departure AU
Summary: Liz tries to move on with her life following Max's departure in the granolith.
Rating: MATURE for strong language
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell are the property of Twentieth Century Fox Television and Regency Productions. All original characters and concepts are the property of the author. No profit has been made from the distribution of this work of fiction. Lyrics from Walk On by U2 (and Bono).

AN: This is an idea that's been rolling around in my head for a few months. It will be a short fic, something to take my mind off of Terminus and Intersection.


Part 1


And love is not the easy thing....
The only baggage you can bring
Is all that you can't leave behind

I felt the ground shake with an unnatural force as we ran from the car toward the pod chamber. A roar thundered through the desert with a pitch like no other aircraft I’d heard before. I didn’t have to glance upward to know that the granolith was gone, and that Max was no longer of this earth. The surprising thing is that I continued to run anyway, despite the fact that I knew Max was gone; whatever connection we had forged the day he saved my life ended as easily as someone switching off a light. One moment it was here, the next it was gone. One moment Max was here, the next he was gone. But I wouldn’t back down. I wouldn’t give up hope. Maybe Max had sent Tess and their son back while he had stayed. Maybe Max had decided he and Tess would not go back, regardless of the consequences to their son. Imagine my surprise when I saw Michael and Isabel several yards from the pod chamber, neither Max nor Tess anywhere to be seen.

“Michael,” Maria called as she ran past me. When I realized that Max truly wasn’t with Isabel and Michael, I think I stopped running but my eyes remained focused on them. I saw Maria jump into Michael’s open arms and an actual smile cross Michael’s face. Kyle passed me, jogging to Isabel’s side. I watched as Kyle hugged Isabel and suddenly, I was the odd man out. I didn’t have a partner or someone to hug. I had no one.

As empty as I felt, I was strangely at peace. I continued to watch Michael and Maria and Kyle and Isabel for a few more moments, an air of profound irony penetrating my brain.

I’m gonna be alone.

I had done this. I had pushed Max toward Tess by leading him to believe I had slept with Kyle. Had this life gone according to plan, Max and I would have been together and Tess would no longer be in our lives. Alex would be alive. Max’s son would not exist. Instead, I am left with nothing.

* * *

“I’m leaving,” I announced as I drop my keys into the glass bowl by the door, my purse falling off of my shoulders to my feet.

“You said that last year,” Michael replied while I continued through his apartment to the kitchen. His long legs were stretched across the couch, his eyes keenly focused on the television screen.

“Well,” I continued, “this time I mean it. I have to move on with my life.”

“Right.” I scowled at Michael’s remark because I knew his tone and I knew there was more he wanted to say to me.

“Is that all you have to say,” I questioned, plopping into the small chair opposite the front door as I brought a bottle of water to my lips.

“Liz.”

“Michael.” I could feel my hackles rising at the thought of beginning another one of these conversations with Michael. After Max’s departure, I blamed myself. I shut myself away from my family and friends, and I mourned Max. I mourned the love I had lost. I mourned the future we would never have. Because of that self-imposed exile, my relationship with Maria changed. She felt guilty that Michael had chosen to say while Max’s choice had been taken away. As I buried myself in my memories of Max and what was never to be, Maria focused on her future, specifically her dream of a music career. Her dreams and her guilt drove her away from Roswell, from me, and from Michael.

I noticed a haunting melody floating just underneath the noise from the television. I instantly recognized Maria’s alto strains as they drifted through the apartment, and I tried to focus on them instead of the sound coming from the t. v. Michael must have noticed my concentration because I saw him look at me then quickly look away.

“Is this Maria?” I pointed upward before taking another sip of water.

“Yep.” Michael never looked at me. He remained glued to the television, remote control firmly in his hand.

“Have you talked to her?”

“No.”

I sighed; sometimes, trying to get information from Michael was like trying to pull teeth. “Did she send you the cd? Was she in town recently?”

“I got it in the mail today. It’s coming out next Tuesday.”

“And she wanted you to have a copy?”

He shrugged and snapped his fingers; the music stopping. He did this again without looking at me. I couldn’t understand what was so interesting about a football game I knew he had seen a thousand times on ESPN Classic when what I wanted to do was talk.

“Is she okay,” I pressed, generally interested. While I knew the moment Max had left me, Maria had gradually slipped through my fingers without my knowledge. It wasn’t until I heard her voice that I realized how empty I felt and how much I missed my friend.

He shrugged again, the television picture changing. Rolling my eyes, I knew this was Michael’s attempt to shut me up. The volleys rarely stopped between us in this new life we shared. This was one point I wasn’t willing to give up as easily as the others.

“Maybe I’ll move to New York. Maria still lives in New York, doesn’t she?”

“That’s what the postmark said.”

“You are so infuriating,” I growled, standing up to throw the empty water bottle into the trash. After doing so, without any recognition from Michael, I turned toward the door and took my keys from the glass bowl.

“Where are you going?” Before I knew it, Michael was at my elbow, his hands wrapped around my wrist and upper arm. I glanced down at his hands then looked upward to his face. My expression must have confused him because I felt his hands tightly grip my shoulders. “Liz.”

“Michael, I…” I felt Michael’s hands move up and down my arms, my skin tingling underneath his touch. I tried to fight the sensation, to put it to the back of my mind because I wanted to talk to him about Maria, but I couldn’t. I could only think that no one has made my skin tingle since Max.

Tears pooled in my eyes, I couldn’t control them. Michael pulled me against his chest and I sighed, his skin burning my cheek through his clothes. The tears quickly rolled down my face; I could feel my face becoming moist as I continued to cry, Michael’s arms still wrapped around me.

I cried in a way I hadn’t since the finality of Alex’s death hit me that night in the Crashdown almost two years earlier. Even though I knew Max was gone, it was as if part of me had forgotten he was never coming back. I had forgotten how empty I felt, how dead my soul felt, how much emotion I still had stored within me, even after a year’s time.

I clung to Michael and, as my knees buckled and my vision clouded, my last conscious thought was that I could feel Max, just as surely as if he were the one holding me instead of Michael.

[JO]

Part 2


I awoke with Michael’s weight across my stomach, somewhat restricting my breathing. His musky smell penetrated my nasal cavity and I fought against his bulk. I opened my eyes a tiny bit, intent on pushing Michael away from me when I caught a glimpse of Max at the back of the couch. “Max!” I reached for him but the image dissipated before I actually touched him.

“Liz,” Michael said, his hands firmly on my shoulders. I could tell he was trying to focus my attention on him but I could only look past him to where Max had just appeared.

“I saw Max, Michael. He was standing right there.”

“Liz, you’re burning up.”

I shrugged Michael’s hands off of my shoulders in attempt to sit up. He recognized that I was trying to wiggle away from where he had the lower half of my body pinned underneath his, and he moved to lie beside me on the couch. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel his eyes on me as I moved to sit up. They seared my face, the entire right side of my head. I stood quickly, hoping to gain relief from the intense heat of Michael’s stare. I fell to the ground just as quickly and Michael’s hands were on me instantly, burning me. I laughed as my skin tingled underneath his touch. I couldn't help myself, I laughed out loud. Michael released me, scowling at my laughter, and I felt cold.

I took longer than he liked to collect myself, and while Michael returned to his seat on the couch, I chose to sit in the chair I had occupied before I apparently passed out. I straightened my skirt, pulling its hem against the top of my khaki leather boots. Michael was still scowling at me when I raised my eyes to finally look at him, and I decided I was going to play for match point. “What?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

To say I was speechless would be incorrect; there were so many words zooming through my brain, I couldn’t focus on any of them to form a complete thought, much less a witty retort to Michael’s heart-felt declaration.

I blinked and suddenly he was kneeling before me, one hand on top of mine, while the other caressed my cheek. I surprised both of us by leaning into his palm, my eyes closing momentarily to enjoy his touch once again. I noted how hot his skin felt against my cheek; it’s surprising that I had forgotten how warm my body got when Max was close to me. The thought of Max caused me to stiffen. I wrapped my hands around his wrist and gently removed his hand from my face. Dropping his wrist onto my lap, I didn’t release him as I looked into his eyes. “Don’t you see I’m dying here?” In a way, it was true. I am 19 years old and every day of my life is exactly the same. I go to my classes for half of the day, work at Mr. Evans’ law office until 5:30 pm, then I'm at the Crashdown until closing. Saturdays and Sundays are filled with more of the same. “The longer I stay in Roswell, I die a little more each day. Isabel is in San Francisco. Kyle is in Phoenix, Maria in New York. There’s nothing for me here.”

“Where would you go?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I just know I can’t stay here any longer.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Michael announced, and he pulled his arm from my grasp and stood as if he were going to pack that very instant.

“What?” My voice cracked a little as I watched him round the couch toward his bedroom. My question stopped him in the doorway and he turned around, looking me squarely in the face.

“I said I’d go with you, Liz.”

“Why?”

“You were the only reason for me to be in Roswell. With you gone,” his voice trailed off but I could hear his unspoken words in my mind. You’re the reason I’ve stayed this long.

“Michael, you don’t owe me anything. If my being in Roswell prevented you from going with Maria -”

“It didn’t.”

“Well, if Max asked you to look out for me -”

“He didn’t.” He looked at me with an expression I didn’t recognize. I placed my hand on my chest as he continued to stare and me; I couldn't maintain eye contact with him so I looked away. It was the first volley I had ever truly lost.

“And now, you’re ready to leave, just like that,” I questioned without looking at him. I could feel him moving even closer to me, that unnatural alien warmth that both he and Max possess.

“I’ll go wherever you want to go, Liz. New York. Boston. Pensacola. It doesn’t matter to me.”

“This seems awfully sudden, Michael.”

“Haven’t you been making idle threats to leave Roswell for almost a year?” I raised my head, my eyes wide as I sensed the anger in his tone.

“They aren’t idle threats,” I countered. The hairs on my neck prickled; I felt my face warm as I began my retaliation. Maintaining this relationship with Michael has taught me to fight, and I believe I can spar with the best of them. Mr. Evans has told me on numerous occasions I would be a great litigator. I always smile, and secretly thank Michael’s ornery ways.

“But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the point.” I stood up and stepped away from him, suddenly nervous at his close proximity. Michael and I have spent many hours together in the past year. I’ve fallen asleep in his arms in front of the television. I’ve had more meals at his apartment than at my own home. We’ve laughed, argued, and simply sat together in silence, but this moment, this feeling I sensed bubbling between us was uncharted territory. It was new, unexpected and something I had deadened my heart to, following Max’s departure. “What about Maria,” I added quickly, knowing that if Michael could be in Maria’s life again, he would choose her. “She sent you her cd. Maybe you should go visit her in New York.”

“Maria's been dating Billy Darden for six months.”

“She told you that?”

“She called me, so I wouldn’t hear about it. She wanted me to know. She asked for my blessing, and I gave it to her.”

Just like that, Michael had pushed aside any hope of a reunion with Maria. He'd given her up, allowed her to date boys, normal boys. “But I…I felt Max,” I stuttered, pointing to the spot behind the couch where Max had appeared moments earlier.

“Max is gone, Liz.” I felt his hand on my hip; I unconsciously licked my lips. His other hand was on my cheek again, burning me. I looked at him, his face so close to mine.

“Max could come back,” I whispered. “He could be in Roswell right now. I felt him, Michael, like I haven’t in -”

“Max chose Tess. He chose Tess and he left you behind.” I inhaled sharply and felt his hold on me tighten. It isn’t like Michael to be so blunt, especially about Max. His true opinion is shining through in this emotional moment; it’s his opinion that startles me, not the restating of facts. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can let him go and move on with your life.”

“Michael.” Tears pooled in my eyes and I couldn't think of anything more to say to him. He threaded his fingers through my hair, resting his palms on the back of my neck. I grabbed onto his forearms and closed my eyes. There was silence between us but I knew what he was going to say next. I knew what he was going to do next. I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to hear it, but I wasn't sure I could turn him away, even though part of me was still aching for Max.

“I think I could love you, Liz.”

“Michael, please.”

He closed the distance between us, his lips pressing tenderly against mine. My mind roared back to the moment I saw him and Maria behind the counter at the Crashdown; the kiss we were sharing now didn’t seem to compare to what I saw that night. I never knew Michael’s lips could be so soft, that he could be so gentle. I realized then that he'd been waiting for this moment. He he'd been waiting for me to let my guard down so he could confess his feelings. He'd been waiting for six months.

“Roswell isn’t holding just you back, Liz. Being here, with memories around every corner, is difficult for both of us. I think I could love you, but not in Roswell.” He released me and I shivered. Tears streamed down my face for reasons even I didn’t understand.

“What are you saying, Michael?” And suddenly I was afraid, afraid that Michael would leave. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I sighed when he returned the embrace. Being in his arms was a comfort; it was a feeling I never knew I needed until that moment. Max had never held me as tightly as Michael was holding me then, and I wasn't sure if I was willing to step out of Michael’s embrace just yet.

“Could you love me, Liz? Could we be together if we weren’t in Roswell?”

His question was honest; I owed him an honest answer. Moving out of his arms, I raised my head to look at him. Until this night, I would never have imagined I could have those kinds of feelings for Michael. All of my feelings seemed to die with Max’s departure. I’m not even sure if they were feelings of actual love for Michael or feelings of fear of being without him. But watching him watching me, I knew what Michael felt was genuine; that he could love me. “I don’t know. I’m sorry but I just don’t know.”

“Maybe you should go home now.” He gently pushed away from me and walked to the door.

“Michael.”

“I can’t compete with Max’s memory. I’m not willing to fight with a ghost. You should go home now. We can talk tomorrow.” He opened the front door of his apartment then slowly walked to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

[JO]

Part 3

I sat in my car outside Michael’s apartment for what seemed like hours after he told me to leave. All of the lights were on in the apartment; Michael’s shadow danced on the wall as I watched him rise from and return to the couch several times. I knew it was merely an act on his part. He was more upset that I’d ever seen him, and he wasn’t doing a good job of keeping his cool now that I wasn’t there with him.

I thought about returning to his apartment to confront him about his confession, then I realized that cooler heads would prevail the next day. Since both of us were so emotional, we could say easily things that we wouldn’t be able to take back. I didn’t want some heated moment to ruin the relationship I had with Michael so I started my car and made my way back home.

I drove to the Crashdown in silence – no radio, no street noise – simply my thoughts to keep me company as I drove. Thankfully, my parents were asleep when I returned home. I was an emotional mess, and I couldn’t take my mother’s prying or my father’s looks of pity. Shortly after Max’s departure and after I had emerged from my bedroom exile, I had told my parents the truth, the entire truth. While I had expected my mother to rage and curse Max’s name, she had been eerily silent as I told the story of how I had been shot that day in the café, how Max had saved my life, and how we had spent those two years running from the FBI, evil aliens and destiny. Instead it was my father who had gone berserk. He had even gone so far as to storm over to the Evans home intent on doing something. To this day I do not know what because Max was already gone and the Evanses were hurting enough. It was then that my relationship with my parents changed.

It had always been my mother and I fighting, usually about my whereabouts with Max, but after I told them the truth, my father started to notice what I did a little more. He noticed when I began spending more time with Michael and he and my mother even got into an argument about it late one night when they thought I was asleep. The walls in our apartment aren’t thick, I would have heard every word regardless of my slumber status. My father didn’t want me to get “mixed up” with Michael. He believed that another alien boyfriend was not what I needed. My mother argued that I needed a friend and that Michael had lost Max too, just as I had. It was a good argument and I remember being so thankful to my mother for standing up for me, and my blossoming relationship with Michael. I wondered what my mother would think of my relationship with Michael now and I touched my lips, thinking of the kiss we had shared.

With the memory of Michael’s kiss still on my mind, I undressed and stepped into the shower. I stood under the showerhead, allowing the hot water to drench me from head to toe. Could I love Michael? If we weren’t in Roswell, could we be free to be together? Would I be happy with him? In all honesty, the thought of beginning a real relationship with Michael made me giddy. I knew what life with Michael would be like: we would quarrel and disagree, probably on more than on occasion, but the making up. . . I remember Maria had once told me making up with Michael was the best part of their relationship. I pour shampoo into my hand, the tips of my fingers working it into a lather, making my scalp tingle. Being with Michael made me tingle. No man has made me tingle since Max.

Liz.

I stopped shampooing because I heard his voice in my head. It was as if he were standing right beside me, his voice was that clear. My stomach turned, that fluttery feeling I always experienced whenever I saw Max. I remember Max; I remember the way he used to make me feel. Oh, I loved him so much. Not because he saved my life but because of how he loved me. I was beautiful in his eyes and he did whatever he could to place me on that pedestal, even after Tess came to town.

Max chose Tess. He chose Tess and he left you behind.

Thrusting my head underneath the water, I watched for a long time as the suds disappear into the drain. Michael’s words were true; Max left me and he chose to go with Tess. But I also remember Max said he would never love Tess like he loved me. Were those just words, spoken by a boy trying to hold onto a dying dream? I shook my head because, even now, almost two years later, I knew I’d never know the real answer without speaking to Max. And since Max was gone, I wouldn’t ever know the truth.

I’m here, Liz. I’m here.

My voice caught in my throat; those words seemed as though they were Max’s response, as if he knew what I was thinking. I felt my body starting to become warm, warm in the way I’ve only felt when either Max or Michael was near me. Grabbing my towel, I haphazardly dried myself and wrapped it around me. That’s when I realized I was trapped in my bathroom with no plan of action. Just because my temperature was rising didn’t mean that Max was actually in my bedroom right then. It could have been another alien – even though we have lived in relative peace since Max’s departure. It could’ve been Michael. Frantic, I closed my eyes and used my limited abilities to try and sense Michael’s presence. Nothing.

Liz.

A chill ran across my skin – Max was hurting. I retrieved my robe from the hook on my bathroom door, allowing the towel to drop to the floor once I was covered in terrycloth. Then I realized that while I wasn’t as physically exposed in my bathrobe, my means of defending myself were limited. As quietly as I possibly could, I searched through the drawers for some type of weapon. After several minutes of rummaging, I found a nail file, a pair of tweezers, and a small pair of hair trimming scissors. Any of these instruments would have to be used at close range; maybe I could convince whatever lay outside my bathroom door to let me groom them instead of killing them.

Stifling a laugh at the absurdity of the situation I found myself in, I returned the tweezers and nail file to their rightful place. I tucked several wayward strands of damp hair behind my ears and looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t have many regrets in my young life, but with potential doom waiting for me outside my bathroom door, I regretted how I had ended things with Michael. I regretted allowing Max’s memory and the love we once shared dictate my future, especially since Max wasn’t even here to share in that future. I regretted not allowing my heart to let go of Max so that I could potentially chose Michael, if he was my heart’s new wish.

I cautiously placed my hand on the doorknob then decided I wasn’t going to be cautious any longer. I flung open the bathroom door, the wind made by my sudden motion ricocheting back at me, blowing my robe open to expose my legs. I held the scissors open in my hand, and I ran to the corner of my bed, intent on defending myself to the death. I saw a man lying on the floor, several steps away from my windowsill. I stepped toward him, scissors at the ready. Then I froze, struck by the realization of who I was staring at. There, face down on the floor, lay Max Evans.

“Max!” Dropping the scissors, I ran to Max’s side. He seemed so frail, so thin, when I placed my hands on his back. He still wore the black t-shirt and blue jeans he had worn when we last saw each other; both contained large, gaping holes and were so faded and worn I could see more of Max’s bare flesh than his actual clothing. “Max.”

With my help, he turned onto his back and after several moments of struggle, I was able to get him to his feet and onto my bed. His face looked haggard and weary, more tired than I had ever seen him, no matter what alien crisis had loomed over his head. I brushed aside his bangs, surprised to see his hair had grown so long, resembling that of Future Max. I smiled softly when he looked up at me. “Liz.”

“Hi, Max.”

He smiled at me then and closed his eyes. I froze, my first thought was that he had died in my bed. It wasn’t until I saw his chest rise and fall in easy breaths that I relaxed. After watching him for several minutes, I picked up the telephone and called the only person thought of…I called Michael.

[JO]

Thanks Liz!!!



Part 4

I heard Michael long before I saw him. He must have forgotten how to tread with silence because he rode his motorcycle into the alleyway, knocked over two of the three Crashdown trash cans parking said motorcycle, and climbed to my room as I imagine a herd of elephants would. Thankfully, my father snored or both of my parents would have been in my room, wondering if World War III had begun. I wasn’t ready for them to know Max had returned. I wasn’t really sure how I felt telling Michael about it.

“What is so important I had to come over right away,” Michael began as he stuck one leg and half of his upper body through my window. He raised his head to look at me and I tried to return his gaze as neutrally as I possibly could. “Oh,” he replied standing at the foot of my bed, Max’s light snoring filling the silence in my room.

“I told you,” I whispered, the hairs on my neck standing up as Michael crossed to where I stood beside Max. “I told you I felt him.”

“This may not be him,” Michael countered. I could already see the doubt forming in his mind. “It could be a shapeshifter -”

“It’s not.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know? How do you know it’s really Max?”

I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I wanted to tell him that I wished that a few hours ago I could have said we could explore a relationship. Then I’d be at Michael’s apartment instead of in my childhood bedroom with Max Evans asleep on my bed. But I didn’t say any of that to Michael. I couldn’t, not with Max still between us. His reappearance made my heart and brain more conflicted and I knew I couldn’t honestly remove him from my heart without first hearing what he had to say. “Because I do,” I said, glancing from Michael to Max and back to Michael again. “I just know.”

“Shit.”

It wasn’t the response I expected from Michael, but as I rolled it around in my brain, it seemed like the perfect thing to say. Shit, Max is back. Shit, Michael is in my room. Shit, I’m wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“Why is your hair wet?”

“What,” I asked, taking a seat in the wicker chair my mother had bought me from a thrift store in Clovis the previous winter. She’d told me I could take it out on the balcony when spring came, but it still sat in the corner of my room. I liked it there; I liked knowing the chair would be in the same place when I woke up each morning and when I went to sleep each night. I liked its constancy, and I liked the consistency it gave me in my otherwise chaotic life.

“Your hair? And your bathrobe.” Michael pointed at me, and I lowered my head to find that my robe hung partially open, the slightest hint of my right breast exposed.

“I was in the shower,” I replied, cinching the bathrobe tight once again.

“Max came back in your shower?”

“No,” I exhaled after rolling my eyes at Michael. Part of me knew he was trying to make light of the situation, but at this hour and after his startling revelation, I was in no mood for jokes. “I was taking a shower when I felt Max’s presence. I put on my bathrobe and came out here. He was lying on the floor over there.”

“And you put him on the bed?”

I could feel Michael’s walls returning. The arrogance and the flippant attitude that had once been his hallmark were written across his entire being. Of course Michael would ask if I had placed Max on the bed. My bed seemed to be a delicate issue for all three of us. I nodded wordlessly, looking away from Michael, but I could tell he was upset. He scuffed to the edge of the bed, watching Max as he slept.

“Why did you call me, Liz? Seems like you’ve got everything you want right here.”

“I…I was scared and confused, and I didn’t know what do to. I called you. I…I’m sorry, Michael.”

He paused for a moment, his manner softening. “No, I’m sorry,” he admitted, pulling out the chair from my desk and turning it around backwards as he sat down. “You were right to call me. I’m glad you did.”

“What are we going to do with him?”

“My guess is that he’s had it pretty rough. Just look at him, for God’s sake. He’ll be out for a few hours, especially if he used his powers to get back here.”

“So what are we going to do?”

His eyes locked with mine and I couldn’t look away. It was as if he had taken control of my body, like in those cheesy alien movies. He folded his arms and leaned forward against the back of the chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “We wait, Liz. We wait until Max wakes up.”

* * *

“Liz.”

Somehow, through alternating between moments of either staring at Max sleeping on my bed or watching Michael watching Max sleep, I had fallen under the spell of the sleep fairies. I awoke when I felt Max’s warm hand caressing my shoulder, just before I opened my eyes. Once upon a time, the way he whispered my name would have caused my heart to jump but at this moment, I was too confused and cautious to allow myself to feel those feelings. I raised my lids to find Max kneeling on the floor, close in front of me, his hand still on my now bare shoulder.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His breath was warm against my face, and I realized that I was still naked underneath my bathrobe. And that Michael was still in my bedroom.

“Hi, Max.” I pulled my legs from their awkward hanging position and straightened my robe over my knees. Max removed his hand and I slid the blue terrycloth over my bare shoulder. I couldn’t meet Max’s eyes because I was scared of what I would see reflected back. “Are you…are you better now?”

“Yes, I’m much better now. I heard your dad a few minutes ago. I figured I’d better wake you since both Michael and I were in your room.” He stood up and moved to the corner of the bed, pointing to where Michael had seemingly sat all night, his face hidden in the crook of his crossed arms.

“Thanks,” I said, cinching the bathrobe tightly around my waist. I stepped toward my dresser, surprised by my awkwardness with Max. He smiled as I tried to sidestep him to retrieve my pajamas, then he finally caught on to my unspoken request and moved closer to where Michael sat, still asleep. “I’ll be right back.”

Scurrying into my bathroom, I hurriedly put on my pajamas. Heaven only knows what my father would have done if he’d come into my bedroom to wake me with the temptation of strawberry pancakes. I could just imagine how his head would have literally exploded if he’d found both Max and Michael there. I put the bathrobe on, over my pj’s, and returned to my bedroom. Michael was awake, but neither he nor Max was talking.

“I’m going to go find my father, before he comes looking for me.”

They both nodded wordlessly. After giving them a weak smile, I stepped into the hallway in search of my parents.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, and after some meaningless conversation and a pancake-filled breakfast with my parents, my head was no clearer. I secretly hoped Max and Michael had begun talking to each other, but as I placed my hand on the bedroom door knob, I could feel the tension radiating from within.

“Sorry,” I apologized as I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me. “I had to eat breakfast and indulge them with my daily activities.”

“What did you have,” Max asked.

“What?”

“For breakfast. What did you have?”

“Oh,” I began, suddenly embarrassed at having eaten actual food. Max couldn’t have had anything close to real food in almost two years, and I had just begun his first morning back on Earth with tales of breakfast. “Strawberry pancakes, chocolate milk, orange juice, and some bacon.”

“That sounds good.”

I nodded and sought out Michael. He was staring at me but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His walls were turning to stone again, before my very eyes. I didn’t know how long it would take before I wouldn’t be able to tear them down at all. “Why don’t we go outside,” I said, pointing to my balcony. “It’ll be easier to talk out there.”

“Fine.”

“Sure, Liz.”

I stepped past the two of them and I could feel both of them watching me as I climbed out of my bedroom window. I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to quiet the chills on my skin but the action gave me no relief. I felt awkward, I felt confused, and I felt the weight of the world bearing down on my shoulders. “So.”

“How’d you get back here?”

“Michael.” He and Max had barely taken their seats when Michael began his questioning, Michael leaning against the brick wall closest to me, Max sitting against the edge of the balcony across from me.

“It’s okay, Liz,” Max replied, a knowing smile on his face. “It’s nice to see some things haven’t changed since I’ve been away.”

I felt the heat from Michael’s stare boring into the right side of my face. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I attempted to make myself comfortable, knowing that this would be a long conversation.

“I came back through a wormhole.”

“Did Tess come with you?”

I jerked my head to the right, Michael in my direct line of sight. If I had the ability to conjure death rays from my eyes, Michael’s ability to jump straight to the point would have been obliterated. It was a valid question – all of Michael’s questions were valid and I wanted to know the answers probably even more than Michael himself – but I just wouldn’t have asked it in such a blunt manner.

“No, Tess isn’t here,” Max replied, and I detected a sadness in his voice unlike any I’d ever heard, especially where Tess was concerned. I looked at him, Michael’s words once again echoing in my ears.

Max chose Tess. He chose Tess and he left you behind.

“Michael,” I began, but I had to quickly clear my throat as the raw emotion caught me off guard. “Michael, I think you should leave.”

“What?”

“If…if you’re going to act this way, I think…I think you should leave.” I stood up from my chair, Michael’s posture also straightening. We were seemingly at war with each other, at war now when just last night we were kissing.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Liz?”

“Don’t start with me, Michael. Max has obviously been through an ordeal. You saw him last night, he doesn’t need us berating him with endless questions. Let him catch his breath. Let him -”

“Tess is dead.”

[JO]

AN: Thanks again, Liz!



Part 5


Tess is dead.

With that simple statement, all the tension I’d been feeling, without even being aware of it, left my body. I relaxed and fell back into my chair, suddenly feeling drained. But then, I looked at Michael. I could almost see the steam rolling out of his ears and I knew he wasn’t relaxed at all. He was coiled and itching for a fight –with me or with Max or both of us – and I knew he wasn’t going to calm down until he got it.

“What do you mean, Maxwell?”

I watched Max squirm and I could tell he was deliberately avoiding looking at me. His entire body tensed, tiny beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “There…there was a crash,” he said, after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “A crash when we landed. I…I don’t know what happened. Tess was injured pretty badly and then she went into labor.”

“Did Khivar take you both prisoner? Did he try to help Tess?”

“He tried,” Max replied, his low voice cracking with emotion. “He tried to help Tess and I tried to heal her, but she was too far gone.” There was another pause as he took a deep breath, then, swallowing hard, he continued, “She gave birth to our son then died as I placed him in her arms.”

Tears fell down Max’s cheeks onto his thighs. Part of me wanted to go to him, to hug him and tell him everything would be okay, but part of me wanted to remind him he was crying for a murderer, a traitor who had killed one of my best friends.

I swallowed my anger and asked the next question looming in my brain. My heartbeat accelerated, knowing this question was just as important to me as knowing why Max had left with Tess in the first place. “What about your son?”

When Max’s shoulders began to heave, his muffled cries stinging my ears, I knew his son was dead too. I turned to Michael, surprised to find him calmer and almost sympathetic-looking. I gave into my instinct and knelt forward, wrapping my arms around Max’s shoulders. He clung to me, as a hurt little boy would cling to his mother, and cried against my neck. I stroked his back and tried to whisper some words of comfort, all the while watching Michael watching us.

Michael stepped toward us, Max still crying and cradled in my arms. He surprised me by placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and a chaste kiss on the top of my head. “He needs you, Liz,” he whispered. I’m certain that Max heard what Michael said, but I don’t know how much of an impression it made on him. Would Max pick up on Michael’s unspoken affection for me and could Max sense how conflicted my heart was?

“Thank you, Michael,” I replied with a firm smile, and Michael climbed over the balcony, disappearing into the alleyway below. I stroked Max’s hair as I heard Michael’s motorcycle rev and ride away, amazed by Michael’s perception and his ability to assess the situation without anger in his heart.

“Michael’s gone?” Max asked, wiping his face with the backs of his hands as I released him from my arms and returned to my chair.

“Yeah.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“I’m sorry about your son, Max, truly I am.”

Max nodded wordlessly, his lip quivering, and I could tell he was trying very hard to stay strong and quash any tears that he still had left. “It was you that saved me, Liz.” He smiled sadly, and I gave him a small smile in return. “Whenever I thought I wouldn’t survive, I kept reminding myself I had to get back here. I had to get back to you.”

“Then why did you leave with her in the first place, Max?” The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think. It was a gut reaction. I blame Michael’s influence.

“What?”

I could tell Max was shocked by my question, his entire demeanor bristled, as if he were preparing to defend his actions of almost two years ago. “Michael and Isabel chose to stay here,” I continued, my once cautious nature thrown to the wind. “You chose Tess…”

“I chose my son.”

“At the time, they were the same person. You chose to go with Tess, even after we learned she had killed Alex.” I paused to catch my breath, ready to continue when Max interrupted me.

“What? What did you say…about Tess and Alex? What are you talking about, Liz?”

And then I remembered. Maria, Kyle and I had been on our way to the pod chamber to tell Max, Michael and Isabel the truth. That Tess had killed Alex and used her mindwarp on Kyle to cover her deed. We had been running toward the pod chamber entrance when the granolith shot across the sky.

“Tess killed Alex,” I began quietly. I felt my throat closing, like I was suffocating once again under the knowledge of her treacherous betrayal. I felt the same nausea and shock that I’d felt in the wee hours of the morning when Maria and I discovered a mindwarp could be broken. “Maria’s mom started to remember what happened the night Brody took us hostage in the UFO Center. She’d been tapping her fingers in the kitchen, talking about things that had happened that night,” I demonstrated against the arm of my chair. “And that’s when I remembered I had seen Kyle and Alex doing the same thing.”

“What were they doing?”

“Tapping their fingers,” I replied, exhaling. Explaining this to Max, saying it out loud, transported me back in time to Maria’s bedroom, two years earlier. I remembered every emotion I had felt that day. They were highs and lows I didn’t want to relive, but for the sake of telling Max what I had originally meant to tell him in hopes of stopping him from leaving the planet, I continued. “On the day Alex died, Maria and I were at his house giving him some advice about Isabel. He kept drumming his fingers on his guitar. And, the day you told me you were leaving, Maria and I were sitting with Kyle and Sean at the café. Kyle had been driving us crazy tapping his fingers on the table. Maria had even asked him to stop doing it because it was annoying her. So, once we were able to calm Maria’s mom down, we drove to Kyle’s house. He didn’t believe us, but then he started to remember.”

“What did he remember,” Max asked breathlessly, hanging on my every word. I wasn’t sure if he really believed me or if he was simply indulging me. Shaking my head, I continued to recount the details I would rather have forgotten.

“We were in his bedroom, and he started tapping his fingers again. He told us that we were crazy, that he would know if he’d been mindwarped. We told him to just relax and try to remember anything. He was holding a glass of water in his hand when it suddenly crashed to the floor and he just turned toward his mirror and froze, like he was watching something happen in its reflection. After a few seconds, he snapped out of his daze and told us Alex had been in his room. Kyle said Tess and Alex were arguing, that Alex accused Tess of destroying his mind with her mindwarp. Tess tried to mindwarp him again and Alex collapsed.” I paused, not for dramatic effect but because as long as I lived, I would never be able to repeat what Kyle had said to us that morning without my heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. “Kyle said that Tess mindwarped him into thinking Alex’s body was luggage so he would carry it out to the car.”

“You’re saying that Tess killed Alex with her mindwarp? Then covered it up by mindwarping Kyle, and making Alex’s death seem like a car accident? Why? Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know why but I think it had to do with the Destiny Book translation. Like I said all along, Max, Alex never went to Sweden. He’d been secretly translating the book in Las Cruces, remember?” I paused and looked at Max for confirmation that he did remember. He nodded slightly, staring at the balcony floor, and I continued with my theory. “I think Tess mindwarped him into translating the book so you could leave the planet. Then she planted the trip to Sweden in Alex’s memory for a cover. He started to remember what had happened, but after so many mindwarps, his brain just couldn’t handle it. That last mindwarp killed him.”

“I almost killed Leanna because we thought she was an alien, that she had done something to Alex.”

“I know.” I watched Max react to the news that Tess had killed one of my best friends. I could tell he was struggling to make sense of this latest revelation. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

“No, I never even suspected,” he replied, and I knew he was telling the truth. “I mean, I got a couple of flashes from her when I tried to heal her, but I didn’t understand them. I…I’m sorry, Liz. I’m so sorry for what she did to Alex. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save him.”

“What happened in those final moments before the two of you left,” I questioned, eager to change the subject. I loved Alex and missed him dearly. Talking about him didn’t bring me any comfort, especially when I felt like I had contributed in some way to his death. “What did she say to make you go with her, when Michael and Isabel decided to stay here?”

“It’s not that simple, Liz,” Max sighed, but I didn’t want him to sidestep his answer. I wanted the truth. I deserved the truth.

“Yes, it is,” I countered, my voice rising as my emotions took over. I had waited almost two years to hear the truth of why Max had gone with Tess and their unborn son, especially when he’d told me he would never love Tess like he loved me. I had begun to accept the fact that he was really gone, that we would never have our wedding day or celebrate the birth of our first child. I was angry with him for choosing Tess, for destroying all of my dreams and hopes for our future together, and for returning now when I had almost begun to allow myself to feel again, to love again. “Something happened to make you go with her while Michael and Isabel stayed here, Max. What was it? Just tell me what happened.” Unable to stop the tears, I buried my face in my hands, emotions I thought I could control bubbling to the surface. I could tell Max was watching me as I continued crying. Things had changed while he was away. I sensed that Max was beginning to realize just how different things were in Roswell.

“I wanted to go.”

“What?”

“I wanted to go, Liz. I had to go, to protect my son.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Max must have sensed my confusion because he knelt in front of me, his hands on my knees.

“I know how it must seem.”

“No,” I countered, trying hard to control the anger in my voice. “No, you don’t.”

“He… my son… he had no one. I didn’t know what Tess would do to him once he was born. I felt like I had to go…to be with him.”

“And leave me behind.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be alone,” Max whispered, his palm warm against my cheek. “You had Maria…and Kyle.”

“Do you know where Maria and Kyle are now,” I questioned, knowing full well Max didn’t have any idea our group had scattered to the winds. “Maria’s in New York. I haven’t spoken to her in almost a year. And Kyle, he’s in Arizona. We talk when he comes into town on school breaks, but I haven’t seen him in six months.”

“I’m sorry,” Max said as he dropped his hand from my face and stood up, his shadow towering over me. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you,” I replied, unable to contain my anger any longer. “You weren’t here, Max. How could you know what happened to any of us when you weren’t here to witness it?”

“Liz -”

“I…I loved you, Max. I….I mourned you. I shut myself away from everyone and everything after you left. I…I didn’t see how I could survive without you, but somehow, I did. Somehow I managed to pull myself up and go on with my life. Without you. And now… now, when I’d finally accepted that you weren’t coming back, you magically appear. Without Tess or your son.”

“I came back for you, Liz. I came back to be with you.”

I tilted my head upward, watching the clouds float across the sky. There were so many things I wanted to say to Max, so many questions I needed answer for, but I knew I was too emotional to talk to him. Just as what had happened the night before with Michael, I knew that things would be said in anger or frustration, things I wouldn’t be able to take back. No matter how angry or hurt I was about Max’s reason for going with Tess, it was his reason. He chose to go with her, and he chose to return to Roswell for me. “I can’t do this now,” I whispered after several moments of trying to organize my thoughts.

“What?”

“I’d like you to leave, Max. I…I’d like to be alone…please.”

“I don’t think -”

“Please, Max,” I begged, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared at the ground. “Please, just go home. I know your parents would love to see you. They’ve missed you so much.”

“When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly, moving slowly toward my bedroom window. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready to see you.”

“Please, don’t shut me out, Liz. If we could just talk, I could make you understand. I could make you see why I chose to go with my son.”

Stepping through my window, I turned to face Max once my feet were on solid ground. He looked frantic, desperate to convince me he still loved me, that he had never stopped loving me. Part of me could have easily believed him; it was written all over his face. But the fact remained that he’d gone with Tess and their son, and left me behind. “I have to figure this out.” I replied, my hands on the windowsill, our faces separated by the pane of glass. It hurt me to look at him, his face so pain-stricken, so hollow. He reached for me but I recoiled just enough to be out of his grasp. I closed my eyes as I felt the hurt coming off of him in waves. “By myself,” I amended quietly and I closed the window, separating us once again.

[JO]

Author's Note 1: Again, thank you to my beta, LongTimeFan. I wouldn't have been able to pull this off without you, Liz!!

Thanks to everyone for reading, lurking and leaving feedback. It's been an interesting journey through Liz's mind. However, the journey is not over yet. See 2nd AN at the bottom.

Thanks again!!!!

JO

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Part 6

I sat with my back to the window for almost two hours, waiting until I was certain Max had gone. I stared at my bedroom door, unable to cry, even though I desperately wanted to. It had been the right thing to do, to send Max away. I knew the Evanses would be thrilled their son had returned, especially when they had assumed he was lost to them forever. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sort out my feelings with Max staring at me. Now that he had returned, my feelings weren’t so black or white any longer.

When I was certain Max was gone, I returned to my balcony, watching the mid-afternoon activities from my perch. As I watched Mrs. Shively, the courthouse switchboard operator, cross the street with her lunch, I realized Roswell would never change. Mrs. Shively had been ordering a Tossed Alien Salad for almost five years. The many times I’d taken Mrs. Shively’s order, no matter what she claimed to be in the mood for, she always ordered a Tossed Alien Salad. Five years down the road, I didn’t want to be Mrs. Shively. I didn’t want to order the same thing for lunch every day. I didn’t want to trapped by my emotions, unable to make the best choice for myself. I knew what I had to do to find happiness.

I had to make a change. I had to leave Roswell.

I found my mother ankle deep in laundry, an Elvis Costello tune drifting through the apartment. Bending to help her sort the washables from the dry cleaning, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ve got something to tell you, Mom.”

“Okay, sweetie. What is it?”

“Max is back.”

I knew blurting it out like that would get a reaction. Despite the good relationship my mother and I now had, I knew part of her was still angry with Max for causing me such pain.

“What do you mean?” She straightened, dropping her favorite pink blouse to the floor on top of her linen pants. “How can Max be back?”

“He came back through a wormhole. I found him in my room last night.”

“A wormhole,” my mother repeated as she stepped out of the linen closet into the hallway of our apartment. “A wormhole.”

“I know it sounds crazy, Mom.”

“No more crazy than my daughter being healed by an alien,” she offered with a wry smile. She walked down the hallway toward the living room. I followed because there was more I wanted to tell her. “So I take it you’ve talked to Max?” she questioned, as she sat down on the couch.

I nodded wordlessly, willing to let her ask the questions until I could find the right time to tell her I wanted to leave Roswell rather than confront my feelings.

“And what about Tess? His son?”

“They’re both dead.”

“Oh, that’s so sad,” she said, her brows furrowing in genuine emotion, “but certainly convenient.” My mother mumbled this last part to herself under her breath, but it was loud enough I could hear. I stifled a little snort at my mother’s sarcasm, knowing she was just concerned for me, and my feelings. Neither she nor my father wanted Max to hurt me again. I didn’t want to be hurt again either. “Well, what are you going to do?”

“I want to leave Roswell.”

“Running away from your problems isn’t going to make them go away, Liz.”

I rolled my eyes at my mother. I knew she was right, that eventually, when I inevitably returned to Roswell, it was more than likely both Max and Michael would still be waiting for me. I should be ashamed of myself for running away from Roswell. With every big choice I’ve been forced to make, my first impulse is to run. Destiny. The end of the world. Michael’s feelings. Max’s return. When the going gets tough, Liz starts running.

And while I knew my running away was the action of a coward, what I needed the most was an escape, if only for a few weeks. I needed some time away to collect my thoughts and try to figure out what would be best for me, without having to see Max or Michael while I tried to sort out my emotions. “I know that, Mom. I…I just need some time away.”

“Does this have anything to do with Michael?”

I whipped my head toward my mother, surprised when she started to laugh. I wasn’t sure if she was laughing at the shocked expression on my face or the notion that Michael could be part of my life.

“I may be your mother, Liz, but I’m not blind. Any fool could see that Michael cares for you. But don’t worry, I haven’t told your father. He wouldn’t take too kindly to another alien romance.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled at me, and I knew my mother was telling the truth. She wouldn’t tell my father. But I also knew that when the time came for me to make a decision about my future, whether it would be with Max or Michael or neither of the two, I would have to be the one to tell him. I shuddered at the thought, quickly pushing it out of my mind. My father was not the worst of my problems right now.

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. Some place where I can be invisible.” My voice faded away, my spirit almost feeling lighter as I thought about the invisibility I’d never been able to attain in Roswell.

“Florida? You know Aunt Julia would love to have you.”

“Max would figure that out too quickly. He’d find me before I was gone a week.” I wanted to say New York so badly; I’d never been to New York before. I could see myself becoming lost there, both literally and figuratively, and the thought both scared and excited me. I would be alone in a big city, without the crutch of my relationship with Michael or the excuse of my memories of Max to hold me back. I would have to survive on my own.

“Doesn’t Maria live in New York City? You could pay her a visit.”

I sighed; for the second time in two days, I felt a hole in my soul where Maria had once been. She had been my best friend and, because of stubborn pride or some other ridiculous reason, we had lost contact with each other. I ached for Maria and needed the type of guidance only she could give me. “I haven’t talked to Maria in a long time, Mom. I think it would be awkward.”

“Maybe,” my mother replied. She rose to her feet and crossed the living room to the antique buffet that had been her mother’s and would one day be mine. She opened the center drawer and removed a small scrap of paper. I scowled when she placed it in my lap and wordlessly returned to her seat on the couch.

“What’s this,” I questioned, even though I could see it was an address. I even knew whose handwriting it was – Amy DeLuca’s. Her penmanship contained more loops and flourishes than should be legal, but there was no denying she had written the address specifically for my mother.

“It’s Maria’s address.”

“How -”

“Amy came into the café a few weeks ago,” my mother interrupted, seeing the confusion and unasked questions written on my face. “She was bragging to Jeff about the new CD, about Maria’s life in New York and how much she loves it there. I told Amy we were thinking of going to New York on vacation. She wrote down Maria’s address and told me Maria would love to see us.”

“Are you and Dad really going to New York for vacation?”

“No,” my mother replied with a stern look on her face. “You are.”

“Really,” I cried, eyeing the scrap of paper once more. “You’re serious?” My mother nodded and I jumped from my chair, falling into her arms, clutching Maria’s address as if it were my lifeline. “Oh Mom, thank you. Thank you.” I hugged her tightly, surprised when she started to laugh. Then the reality of my situation set in. “Mom, I…I can’t afford it. My savings -”

“I have a little money stashed away, Liz, for a rainy day. It should be enough to get you to New York and away from Roswell for a few weeks. You can’t stay away forever though.”

“I won’t, but I just need some time, you know, to sort things out.” She patted my knee as she released me from our embrace, the two of us sitting side by side on the couch.

“I know, Liz, and I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through, what you’re feeling. But, you’re an adult, and as much as adults would love to run away from our problems, the adult thing to do is to face them head-on and solve them.”

“Right,” I replied with a sigh, tilting my head onto my mother’s shoulder. I smiled to myself as my mother’s favorite perfume wafted through my senses, and I remembered how many times I had rested my head on her shoulder when I was a child. As much as I wanted it to be true, I was no longer a child. I was an adult, with adult problems I couldn’t keep running from. “What are we going to tell Dad?”

“I’ll worry about your father,” she replied, placing a kiss on the top of my head before she rose from the couch. “Let’s get you ready to go.” She offered her hand, which I gladly accepted with a smile. As we walked down the hallway to my bedroom, I suddenly felt that going to New York was the right decision for me. Maybe I was running away from my problems, but maybe, just maybe my flight from Roswell would bring me the insight I needed to help me to sort out the confusions in my brain and in my heart.


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Author's Note 2: The sequel's title is Fly For Freedom. I've started it and have a specific outline in mind, but I'll be taking a break from this world to finish Terminus, continue Intersection and piddle with a new fic rolling around in my head.

I hope to start posting FFF in mid- to late-April, here in the Abyss.

Thanks again everyone!!! I really appreciate your comments and discussions!!

JO