by Chione
Rating: MATURE
Category: Max/Liz
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell.
Note: This story popped in my head when I was so pissed at how everything in S3 played out, because it so didn’t solve anything. So, I’m solving it. The glowing hickeys, Khivar, the powers, etc. I already have it planned, and this is the first of about 10 parts.
At the end of this chapter, don’t go jumping to conclusions about anything. There’s a lot to be explained.
Chapter One
“People do a lot of dumb things when they’re drunk.” I’d once told Max after he’d stupidly kissed me on stage while totally wasted after only a sip. We’d been broken up at the time, which seemed to be the case more often than not in our relationship, and kissing his ex-girlfriend he’d taken a ‘step back’ from wasn’t the brightest move, even for an alien.
But dumb didn’t begin to cover what I’d done.
Drinking was something I, as a previously straight-A student, would never dream of doing, particularly in large amounts, and at parties when I was completely, irreversibly depressed. But for the first time in too long, I was being a teenager, a normal one, who made stupid, irresponsible decisions just for kicks, and went out and had a good time like normal teenagers do. With normal friends. At a normal party. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences, and I wasn’t thinking about anything but having fun, enjoying life.
Not like I could’ve resisted anyway, seeing as my roommate, Eileen Burrows, was almost as stubborn as Maria, and a lot less inhibited by morals. It was nice, though, to have normal teenage things to worry about, like the Dean catching Eileen smoking in our room my first day. Not running from the FBI Special Unit and jumping off bridges.
Or getting arrested in Utah while helping my boyfriend find the son he conceived with the bitch who murdered my best friend.
I’d left Roswell to get back to normal. So when Eileen suggested the party at the mansion of one of the richest students in the school, I accepted.
“It’ll be fun.” she assured me as we approached the door. Already I could feel the beat of the music through the walls of the mansion and the cool night air. Vermont certainly wasn’t Roswell. It was freezing, and even with all the layers of coats I wore, I was shivering.
She didn’t bother knocking, and we walked right in, her confident and aloof, me trailing behind significantly less sure of myself. What were we supposed to do? I’d honestly never been to anything remotely like it. The thought was exhilarating and bone-chilling.
Lights were dimmed, and the music surrounded everything, seeping into every pore and crevice. People twisted about in clumps, their bodies moving with the pulsing music, or else with some more primal, simpler beat only they could hear. My head started to pound in time with everything else, and when Eileen handed me a cherry red plastic cup of something alcoholic, I was sure, I didn’t hesitate to tilt my head back and drink. Sure, it was only my second experience with alcohol, but I knew from the first time it would numb everything.
And it did. After the first cup was gone, my head was pleasantly swimming through fluffy clouds that blocked out any thoughts of Max or Tess or the rest of the alien chaos. For the first time in more than three years, I felt myself opening up to strangers, relaxing while my gaze stopped eternally drifting over my shoulder. I was a normal, seventeen-year-old girl having a good time. What did I have to be paranoid about anymore?
Eileen introduced me to the boy who lived at the mansion, when he wasn’t rooming at the boarding school. I found myself curled beside him on the couch moments later, another beer in my hand and giggles escaping my throat at every opportunity. He was cute! And funny, and best of all: he wasn’t Max.
“Beth,” he called me, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger and bringing in to his face to kiss. “Beth, aren’t you glad you came to Winnaman? Bet you didn’t have this kind of fun back home.” His breathe was strong, hot against my skin and I shuddered, telling myself it was because I was enjoying it, not repulsed. Maria was wrong, I wasn’t ruined. I could like a guy who wasn’t green around the gills, and I pictured Max with gills, floundering in a bowl of water with green skin, and little, bulging alien eyes. I burst out laughing.
“You have no idea,” I was able to answer between giggles and sips of my chilled beer. Why hadn’t I ever done this before? It felt wonderful, and so freeing! And I felt happy, content, like laughing and celebrating instead of crying all the time.
There was sudden commotion by the entrance, and we turned to see what was up. If Max himself had walked through that door I don’t think it would’ve mattered to me, I was so plastered. Everything was numb, gone, and I was just kind of suspended in the world as things moved on around me. The boy I’d been curled with, Daniel, pulled away, standing clumsily and with a choked laugh at his own antics. He grinned at me, grabbing another man from the crowd by the door and dragging him forward.
“Beth,” he started, “meet Peter, my good buddy. He--” Daniel paused to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders, overly proud. “He is da man.” Daniel leaned forward slightly, obviously unbalanced and he rocked back and forth as Peter gave a laugh, steadying him.
I just giggled at them both, rolling my head to rest against the arm of the couch. I blinked up at Peter slyly, feeling bold from the alcohol racing in my system. Nothing like a little drinking to lower ones inhibitions, I was quickly learning. And Peter was just the guy I wanted to lower them with, at that moment.
Not Max, I thought as I stared up at Peter’s bright, hazel eyes. What was I thinking, being with Max again? I could never give him something as precious as my virginity, because he had nothing to offer in return but Tess’s sloppy seconds! The thought would’ve hurt if my heart wasn’t so weighed down with beer and whatever else I’d consumed earlier.
God, would I never escape him? Even wasted and on the other side of the country, he was all I could think about. Even surrounded by hot guys, willing to be with me, flirting outright with me, and all I could think of was damn Max Evans! But no more, I swore to myself foolishly. As if I could ever actually let him go. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t try with everything I had left.
So I smiled at Peter with my head tilted to the side, resting against the red, silk pillow adorning the couch. He was perfect. Anti-Max in every way, from the bleach blonde hair to the cocky smirk and hazel eyes that knew well I was completely drunk and he was loving it. Taking the seat Daniel vacated, he relaxed back against the couch beside me, an arm coming to rest around my waist. It was a bold move, and I didn’t mind. It wasn’t something Max would’ve done.
The shivers running across my skin were from enjoyment, I told myself.
Knowledge of Peter’s goals for the night filled my clouded mind as his hand trailed up to my shoulder in a lingering caress. Another reason I could never truly be free of Roswell, of Max. The strange, alien ability I’d gained for reading people’s motives and emotions with a simple touch. One afternoon in September, long ago, Max Evans, alien king turned half-human high school student, touched me in a way no one before him ever had. Or ever would. And because of that one moment, regardless of how far I run, I’ll never be free of the alien abyss.
I was changed.
But it didn’t take a psychic to guess what was running circles in Peter’s head. Drunk girl. Not bad looking, kind of desperate. Definitely on the rebound. Drunk. Boobs, small, but existent. Drunk. Where’s the nearest bedroom? Or any available surface, really.
The choice stared me down. Peter knew what he wanted, hell, I knew what Peter wanted. The question then was, what did I want? Not him, but feelings were dulled and inhibitions drowning in alcohol, frightening the part of me still capable of rationalizing.
It was a very small part.
I snuggled back in Peter’s embrace, feeling his arms tighten around me and dismissing my sudden nausea. Eileen was telling a story, something grossly exaggerated no doubt, wildly gesturing along with her words. I tuned back in, throwing my head back, laughing as logic floundered in my newly refilled, red cup.
--
The next reasonable thought to touch my brain was an urgent need for pain-reliever. My first experience with a hangover, and not only was my head shattering with each and every pounding of my heart, but I was not in my dorm room, and the only clothe against my skin was the silk of the bed sheets. I shivered as the warmth of another body seeped into my side.
I did not want to know what I’d done.
Actually, I knew exactly what I’d done and who. I didn’t want to acknowledge what I’d done because then I was even worse than Max. He, at least, cared for Tess.
And, like everything else in my life, it always came back to Max.
When I awoke, and realized from the pain between my legs, the smooth, sticky flesh against my own, and the memories muted but not forgotten, what I’d done, my immediate response was just as expected. I cursed my predictability and Max Evans, cursed the unbearable ache that welled at the thought of him and Tess, now eclipsed by shame and guilt of my own making.
I glanced over at Peter, still lying contentedly asleep. Maria would be proud, at least. He was gorgeous, and I’d chosen him over Max. Hadn’t she been encouraging me to leave Max? That he didn’t deserve me and would only hurt me again?
I should’ve been ecstatic. Hadn’t I wished for months to no longer be the only virgin left in our little ‘I know or am an alien’ club. Well, now I wasn’t.
But I wanted it back, whatever mythical purity or innocence associated with virginity. I wanted it back. Because then I wouldn’t have betrayed Max. And even though I’d sworn never to get back with him, while on my cross country bus ride, that’s exactly how I felt. Like I’d spat in his face, on his love for me, and betrayed him.
By the time I worked up the nerve to stand, sheets wrapped tightly around me, I was crumbling. Falling all over myself, my feet too clumsy to move right and my body too heavy, too pained, to do more than stumble into my clothes strewn about the floor. I fervently prayed Peter was a deep sleeper. Facing him was the last thing I was ready to do. I must’ve looked frightening, crawling madly across the room, clutching at articles of clothing as I convulsed in sobs. Quiet sobs, stifled by my trembling lips I pressed together until they were numb to keep the sound in. The last thing Peter needed was a hysterical one-night-stand on his bedroom floor.
Tingling shot up my arm in tiny pricks of sensation, familiar and stinging. I shook it off, scanning the room frantically for my shoes, the last barrier to my leaving.
Max, at least, had been willing and able to face Tess afterwards. What did that make me?
Green lightning flickered under my skin and across my palms, spiraling out my fingertips and on to the carpet. Not catching fire, but singeing it to a nice, crispy brown. I reeled in my shriek just before it could wake Peter. Gaping at the electricity flowing within my veins, I gave an audible cry, biting my lip to dampen it. It burned! Like fire scorching the inside of my flesh and I couldn’t stop it!
I shook my head back and forth, rising to my feet in a tangled movement of arms and legs that I couldn’t seem to control properly. Nausea swept through me in steady currents, tripping me as I staggered out the door. Forget shoes. I needed to go home. I needed my mom, or my dad, or my old room, something familiar to tell me that this was all a horrible nightmare. I needed Max to make all this pain go away!
My dorm was as I left it the evening before. Eileen wasn’t anywhere in sight, but I gave it no thought, staring idiotically at my tidy bed, my little desk where everything was in its place, my scarf thrown hastily on the dresser. Remnants of a happier Liz. A better Liz.
Dumb didn’t begin to cover what I’d done.
--------------------------------
Dreamer Insurance, anyone?
That made me laugh. Never thought about it that way.