Make this go on forever- UC L/Mi [Teen] complete

[Venus_star2.com]

Title: Make this go on forever

Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell...if I did Polar would've been canon

Pairing: L/Mi implied. Liz centred. Polar.

Rating: Teen (dark themes)

Warning: The story explores grief and feelings towards and or about suicide. Read with caution.

Plot: Liz has been told that Alex has taken his own life. She drowns in her grief but a visit from someone she least expects gives her the confidence to investigate her friend’s mysterious suicide.

Author’s note: I haven’t been able to write anything for a very long time so this short piece is very precious to me as it is my first finished story. I really hope you enjoy it.

This story was influenced by the song Make this go on forever by Snow Patrol.

___________

Grief changes you; it wakes the beast inside and suddenly you can’t think, can’t sleep, can’t eat. The only thing you can do is think about that moment when you were told someone died and the sound of your soul snapping was the only thing you knew intimately any more.
You are at the mercy of that inner beast and sometimes it leads you to drown in your own turmoil.

It’s Friday.

Liz could hear them whispering.

Make them stop…

Nobody answered. The whispering was louder.

Liz Parker stumbled through the school hallway. She trailed a foot behind her best friend Maria, who, even in that time of death, managed to dress with such finesse that it seemed the immaculate stone angels outside the front entrances deigned to weep along with her.

Maria’s hair was three inches longer than hers. Funny, isn’t it, when you start noticing things like that?

Detail, that’s the word. Everything becomes Technicolor when someone dies. Like Dorothy entering Oz. She wasn’t in Kansas any –

Alex loved the Wizard of Oz…….

What was even more distressing was that Liz felt numb. Nothing, hollow, empty. You could drop a penny in her soul and never hear it clatter.
She was a bottomless pit and someone deep inside howled. Not any old high-pitched squeal – the kind that is silent and intimately wrong. Just wrong.

Maria wore black. It made her ivory skin seem whiter than normal. Except her lips. Large, thick lips. Actually her lipstick was smudged. Makes a change.

“This is just beyond, y’know.”

Maria turned her head, long curls tickling her nose, moist eyes seeking a response. Liz moved back slightly, eyes moving left and right, she could feel people’s eyes on her, watching, waiting for her to break, she would not, could not give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry…

…“Let’s just get to class.” She did the typical friend thing and pushed Maria along.

That’s what a friend would do in times of grief right?

Let’s just get to class. All Liz wanted to do was be alone. Submerged in nothing somewhere where she could look out and just watch everything and everyone pass by. Her sudden detachment scared her but she never dwelled upon it, never gave it a second thought. She had to remain strong. That’s what Alex would’ve wanted her to do.

Something clicks inside you when a loved one dies. A horrible click. It’s the sound of your sense-of-self breaking. All of a sudden, the thought of getting up, getting dressed, breathing, just doesn’t seem worth it. Everything seems heavier. And it’s even worse when they take their own life and you’re the person left with all the wondering why, wondering how, the guilt of not seeing the signs…

Signs. Everybody talks about those stupid signs – intimate clues that would pinpoint a person’s downward spiral to self destruction, if only you knew…

Bullshit.

She knows Alex.

Knew him….

Alex wouldn’t do something like this. He wouldn’t do this. Friends don’t plan to kill themselves without speaking to someone first.
Wait, scratch that…

Perhaps people who want to die don’t think about the actual act, but the peace of not being able to feel it, whatever it may be, any more. They want to be saved from the darkness they feel inside.

That’s what people say…

Alex was one of her best friends. Really close. He was like an older brother. He wouldn’t do this.


A light touch dulls her thoughts – she turns – Maria.

“Would you like to say something?” The whisper reaches into the depths her right ear as they stand in the narthex of the church, the sound of her friend in pain – Maria should never sound like that.

Her whereabouts come into focus. Suddenly, it clicks.

It’s Saturday.

She’s sitting in the front pew alongside Maria and Alex’s family. Alex’s funeral. Alex’s deep brown coffin lying on the velvet tablecloth on the pine trestle table on the steps of the altar. Just lying there, stark, between stacks of white orchids and candles and immaculate decorations like some afterthought.

She’s standing up and walking, her steps quick, pushing herself forward. And the sound of doors bursting open with a loud bang is the only thing she has to say. Except you can’t say that, because it’s a noise. So she says nothing. For now.
Fact is, Alex didn’t kill himself and she’s going to find out who killed her friend. If it kills her.

~~~~~~~~
Grief changes you.

It’s Sunday.

Fact

Alex didn’t kill himself

Liz knows this. She sees the signs. Everybody else is blind to the signs that clearly scream murder.

Fact

Alex knew about Isabel, Max, and Michael. Their secret war against the Skins exposed him.

Fact
Something is wrong and no one is brave enough to say something. Except her.

Looking normal is second nature. Liz works at her father’s café with a waitress’ smile. Long brown hair is straightened, tied back neatly with a silver hair tie. Make-up done. Apron ironed. Immaculate.

Maria is at home. (In her jimjams with straight-outta-bed hair no doubt. Makes a change.)

Alex is dead

Someone spills ice cream on the floor.

Alex is dead

Liz cleans it up.

Alex is dead

Liz smiles.

Alex is dead.

She doesn’t want to be here. Alex is dead. She wants to run. Alex is dead. She is alone. Alex is dead.

Alex’s folks have invited friends and family to a small barbeque on Tuesday. She doesn’t want to go. She wants to be alone in her tank of nothing, hiding in the invisible dark shadows that are clouding her heart.

Grief never gives you peace. Death is never merciful.

She finishes her shift as soon as she can and walks. She needs some air. She needs to walk alone. She wants her friend back. She just wants everything to stop moving.

~~
It’s raining. Her yellow woollen jacket is ruined. The water is soaking through everything, leaving her skin cold and slick. It’s wonderful.
Her white tennis shoes are standing in the mud of Alex’s fresh grave. Somewhere deep inside the earth her friend is lying still and alone, forgotten.

She turns her head to the left, her wet hair shielding her tied eyes.

Michael. He’s wet – of course; his grey shirt and dark jeans are thick and soggy with rain. The beautiful rain pounds with a loud shhhhh sound. It calms her.

It feels like the whole world is grieving.

Her feet twitch inside her shoes. She leans slightly to the right, away from him. Ready to run. Ready to move at the slightest sound of his voice.

This is the part she’ll hate. You know the part. The part when somebody comes up to you and gives you that look, that look that’s supposed to convey something that makes it all better.

“I know how you feel.”

Bullshit.

That doesn’t change a thing! I’m still here. I’m still breathing. The darkness inside isn’t gonna go away. You have no idea what I’m feeling. You just feel guilty that you don’t know what to do. All you want to do is try to pick up and mend the broken pieces somehow. Well it doesn’t work that way. Go home.

Grief changes you.

I know how you feel. Liz hates those words so much that her whole body shakes sickly form the thought of them.
He’s towering over her. She looks up, the rain spits in her eyes but the stinging is somewhat comforting. She will not give him the satisfaction of showing emotion.

Alex is dead.

A hand brushes her sodden hair from her face; she’s exposed. She will not move.

Alex is dead.

Two damp hands cup hollow cheeks, the slight pressure causing her to flinch. She will not move.

Alex is dead

His eyes are golden brown and piercing. His face moves towards her. Her face is pulled upward. She lets him move her body close to his. But she will not move.

Alex is dead.
Alex is…..

Cold wet lips capture hers and suddenly…

Warmth. Hot dripping warmth enveloped her body.

Her hands moved upwards, tracing his spine to get lost in the tangle of his thick brown hair. She tugged at the hair and pulled him closer.
She was falling. It was fast and beautiful. His lips claimed hers, his teeth scraped against hers with a soft click.

He pulled back.

Rain swept in, harder than ever. Her face was saturated in cold rain but suddenly it was okay, everything seemed normal, lighter.
She stood there and thought over what had just happened; it had come completely out of the blue.
Michael looked at her, his eyes warm, not patronising. He smiled briefly. She had never seen him smile before. It seemed somewhat forbidden and sinful.

He turned and left.

Liz stood alone in the rain. But this time she didn’t want to be alone.
She followed him.

~~

It’s Monday.

Somehow the thought of going to school didn’t seem so bad. Michael’s kiss still breathed inside her, pushing her through the crowded hallway, allowing her not to feel bothered by the eyes that followed. Allowing her some small respite from her grief. Makes a change.

Grief changes you; it wakes the beast inside and suddenly you can’t think, can’t sleep, can’t eat. The only thing you can do is think about that moment when you were told someone died and the sound of your soul snapping was the only thing you knew intimately any more.
You are at the mercy of that inner beast and sometimes it leads you to drown in your own turmoil. But sometimes not.
Sometimes it leads you other places…

Grief changes everyone. Maria was a fountain of grief; she cried at the slightest sound of Alex’s name.

Isabel seemed weak and frail, the opposite of a notorious Ice Queen famous for her confidence. The opposite of the way she had been just a few short days before.

Kyle was quiet. Alex died the day before his birthday. Hopefully today he would speak to her.

Max. Max wasn’t speaking to her. Max was with Tess. Liz didn’t want to dwell on that. It brought on another wave of a different kind of grief that she didn’t…no, couldn’t handle. Not right then.

Grief caged her. She couldn’t deal with it. This was something she had only just managed to admit to herself. She always liked to be in control. She was the overseer, she was the scientist, she was the brains and logic of their group. She had to put on the brave front somehow.

Guess in a way that’s what Michael is. Always in control; always the stone wall, as her friend eloquently put it. Her stone angel.
But grief caused him to act differently too. Like suddenly everyone wants to climb Mt Everest and learn Spanish and run naked across the street. Feel alive, that’s the word.

If that was the case, why exactly would he choose to kiss her?

His kiss opened more doors inside her with a bang. The grief was dimmed – but it was still there, normal like the rest. Well, maybe not normal – but easier to handle.

The thought of his lips on hers, his strong hands securely around her waist, pulling her close – it was like being born again.
His kiss unearthed hidden thoughts, brought new feelings to the surface. Feelings for Michael. The kind you know you have for someone you shouldn’t.

It was beautiful, somehow it was immaculate. And she would treasure that moment.
Across the hallway she saw him. Even from a distance he made her heart come alive, and suddenly it felt like just like any day, like nobody died.

She wanted to run to him, bury her face in his chest and feel his warm hands caress her back. She didn’t want to be alone any more. She wanted to feel alive.

Maria. Maria, her friend, a big wet blanket of grief had draped herself around him. She was crying.

It broke the moment.

Shaking herself from thought, Liz turned her back on the two of them and headed along the corridor to Biology.
Her heels clicked on the floor.

Wrong moment. Wrong time to feel something for someone like Michael.

But he gave her something to go on, something to act like a buffer in front of all her hollowness. It was enough to give her the strength to really start investigating Alex’s death. And somehow, she just knew that Michael’s kiss was something she would need in order to see this through to the end.

~~Fin~~

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Thanks

Rach