Roswell Fanatics

Part 11a

Carolyn:

Will Tess always understand Max in a way Liz won't....??

Yes.. in some ways, i think that Tess understands him because in some ways there two of the same coin but she doesn't understand him in any real way... in any romantic way.


A/N: I decided to split this chapter into two parts or it would have been way too long

The song featured in this part is 'Fade Into You By Mazzy Star' Play when you see this

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“I think Alex was murdered.”

Kyle whipped his head around to face Liz, her words bouncing around violently in his head. Murdered! Kyle bit his thumb. Was she out of her mind? Alex wasn’t murdered.

But had he? Something filled Kyle with doubt. Maybe Liz wasn't being irrational? Maybe she was onto something? Everything about Alex’s death smelled of suspicion; it screamed set-up. It was like he had deliberately gone out there to that road that fateful night to get himself killed…. Or murdered as Liz put it.. Kyle banged his head lightly against the window seal of Alex’s room. When did everything in his life become one big set-up… a giant conspiracy? Maybe it was the day Max ‘I get everything’ Evans lifted his hand over his chest and healed him?

But Kyle was inclined to believe it had happened long before that.

“Would you listen to yourself?” Max spat, stepping closer to her. “Why would anyone want to kill Alex?” Max's voice was calm as he loomed over her. He was dangerously invading Liz’s personal space, trying to intimidate her into silence... and it took everything Kyle had in him not to walk over there and punch Max straight in the face. Something he’d wanted to do since the moment that Max had stole Liz away from him.

It wasn't that Kyle didn't understand where Max was coming from, or that he was hurting too… but so what? Everybody else was too. Alex’s death didn't give Max the right to go all ‘king’ on them. Kyle didn't need that shit, and honestly, Kyle didn't think Max even had the right to be hurt. He had known Alex for two years. Kyle had known Alex his whole life.

“I don’t know, Liz,” Tess piped up.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Oh, of course Tess would be on Max’s side. God forbid, she should betray her king by thinking for her own damn self.

“I think… maybe Alex … might have killed himself.”

Kyle turned his head, glaring. She knew better than to say that in front of Liz or Maria. Hell, even saying that in front of Isabel was a risky move.

Liz scoffed.

“Tess, just shut the fuck up.” Liz hissed, causing Max to scowl at her more.

Kyle shook his head. “There is no way in hell that would have happened.”

Maria yelled, “You don’t know Alex like we did so you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Maria’s tone of voice made Kyle flinch a little. She sounded like she was close to laying Tess low.

Michael rubbed Maria’s shoulder, stroking her hair in an effort to calm Maria down. He was also glaring at Tess. “Watch it.” Michael warned, pointing his finger at her.

Kyle balled his fists. He didn't like Michael’s tone either. He agreed that Tess should have had more tact but he didn't have a right to threaten her. Not in his presence.

“Liz, what does this have to do with anything?” Isabel asked suddenly, her tone flat but her body language spoke volumes. It was tense with irritation. “Why are you making this so much harder than it already is?”

“Because I know what I know,” Liz said, turning toward one of Alex’s drawers and pulling something out.

Kyle raised his eyebrow. It looked like some kind of… heart-shaped box?

“And I know what I saw, Isabel.” Liz opened the box and showed everybody its contents.

Maria gasped, holding her hand over her mouth before she buried her head in Michael’s shoulder. Tess sighed before she scoffed. Michael shook his head with a bitter smile plastered on his face. Kyle closed his eyes, and Max just stood there, arms crossed over his chest. Kyle thought he looked a dumbass just standing there like that.

“You don’t plan for the future when you don’t plan on having a future,” Liz said with bitter smugness, rage flashing in her eyes. Tess just shook her head at Liz’s smug tone.

Liz lowered her hand to give Isabel the velvet box and Isabel took it with gentle hands....so gentle, in fact, that for a minute, Kyle thought she wasn't even touching it at all. He wondered if maybe she was using her mind to levitate it…

“This doesn't prove anything,” Max said. His body was tense with uncertainty, a quiet rage was etched upon his face.

Kyle snorted bitterly. Apparently the King didn't like to be made to doubt himself… because Max Evans always had to have his way. He had to be fucking right. God forbid that anyone should question or know otherwise.

“What does this prove?” Max asked accusingly. “Other than the fact that you snooped around in his stuff.” Max smiled back arrogantly, daring Liz to say something. He wanted her to make a fool of herself, to say something that he could use against her... but Liz didn't budge and she didn't back down.

She crossed her arms over her chest, walking closer to him until she was standing just inches away from his face... and she just stared him down. As though she was sizing him up, like someone would size up an opponent. She looked like someone who was ready to declare war.

“Who would want to kill Alex?” Max demanded, his eyes dark with something unreadable... unstable, almost animalistic… alien. The look made Kyle uneasy. It made him lean off the ledge of the window seal, readying himself for the countdown. Shit was about to hit the fan, and he wanted to get the hell out of dodge if he could. Liz was playing a dangerous game, adding fuel to the already lit flame… and if she wasn't careful… she was going to get burned worse than the rest of them.

“I don’t know, “Liz stepped closer as she continued to stare Max down. “Maybe an alien.” And there it was-- a flicker of something lethal. The beginning of an unstoppable force, a wild fire had just been lit with the sole purpose of causing unrelenting destruction.

Kyle breathed a little harder, his heartbeat speeding up. His vision narrowed to a fine point. It wasn't until later that he realized he was an animal getting ready for the slaughter....that he'd known that everything had been finalized. The bell had been rung; they were at war.

Total silence followed Liz’s comment...not a sound was made and nobody dared to break the soul-crushing tension. It was so quiet that Kyle was afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He couldn't gage anybody’s exact reaction but his own. Nothing was predictable anymore. The uncertainty weighed heavily in the air, making Kyle restless. He wanted out. He didn't want to be a member of the ‘I know an alien’ club anymore. Not if it meant total destruction.

“You’re not thinking clearly.” Michael said, his ragged voice breaking through the unbearable silence. He had a dark expression on his face that Kyle had never seen before.

Liz turned away from Max..and Kyle flinched.

The levy had broken; Liz Parker was no longer in control. She was just as unpredictable as the people she was accusing. “No! You’re not thinking clearly!” Liz yelled, fury radiating off her in a wave so suffocating that Kyle was almost unable to breath for a moment. She stalked forward, a deadly air surrounding her, like an animal ready to charge. “Because if you were, you’d have to admit that this is your fault!”

Liz was only an inch away from Michael’s face..and Kyle was surprised that Michael hadn't blasted her in two. He didn't look angry or threatened… he looked almost bored. He just lazily gazed back at her, holding his ground. He was letting her have it out.

Suddenly Kyle understood why Michael had been the one to break the silence. Michael knew something that Kyle had only guessed about Liz Parker. She wasn't really angry with Michael or any of the rest of them. She was mad at Max. She was heartbroken, just like the rest of them… but she didn't know how to show it in any normal way, but more importantly, she didn't know how to be mad at Max without being angry with herself. So Michael became the fallout guy, the one to unleash all of her anger and resentment onto.

“Liz…” Kyle said tentatively. He felt like he was talking to a deranged person who was about to blow up a building. “Calm down.”

“Shut up, Kyle,” Michael hissed, but there was no real malice in his voice. He continued to stare Liz down. “She’s just finally being honest.”

Kyle frowned. If this was honesty, then he wanted no part of it.

“Liz, stop this,” Maria pleaded, grabbing her arm. “Please seat down and just think this over… you’re not making sense.”

Liz snatched her arm away from Maria’s grip as Max grabbed her other one, spinning her around to face him. He shook her roughly with that dangerous look still in his eyes.

Kyle was afraid of that look… that look confirmed something that Kyle didn't want to believe was there. It seemed that Max had snapped, had been broken in half. Everything was finally coming to a boiling point, ready to rise to the surface. He could feel all the rage and desperation and pain pouring into the air through waves so strong that Kyle was almost sick with it. Max was no longer, well, Max! He looked crazy… crazy enough to do something unforgiving … like hitting Liz.

And if Kyle hadn't done the only thing he could think of to do in that moment, who knew what might have happened? Kyle jumped off the ledge, pushing Liz out of the way...and punching Max in the face, snapping him back to reality. He really believed that Max might have beaten the life out of Liz Parker if he hadn't popped him one.

Silence filled the room again as Kyle backed away from the scene before him. He took a deep breath, realizing once again that charge in the air...the electrically crackling like poprocks, an elemental aura swirling around him and making him sweat profusely, even thought the atmosphere was far less deadly than had been before. The silence still made Kyle uneasy… especially since he was trying to prepare himself to be hit back.

Kyle looked around the room, knowing that he wasn't the only one standing up now. Michael was on his feet up, helping Max off the floor. Max rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, a dazed look on his face...like Kyle's punch had awoken him from a dream.

Liz was breathing heavily, backing wildly away from Max. Kyle saw an emotion on her face that scared him even more than Max’s crazy look had. She was scared. Liz was scared of Max Evans.

“Max,” Kyle began but the full sentence hadn't completely fallen from his lips when Max’s soft but authoritative voice said, “We’re leaving.” it was a demand, spoken as he shook Michael’s hand off his shoulder.

It was clear that he was not talking to the humans. He was talking to his fellow aliens. Tess and Isabel didn’t hesitate, immediately following Max out the door… but Michael lingered, looking at Maria mournfully, and when she didn’t look back at him, Michael left as well.

Kyle, Liz and Maria were left alone in Alex’s room.

“So, It’s really us versus them now, huh?” Klye asked gruffly, closing his eyes.

Liz scoffed, but Maria looked up at him and nodded. Yeah, it seemed so. It seemed that they were really going to war.


TBC....

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Part 11b


Carolyn:

I'm with Kyle.......everything now seems to be a conspiracy ......

Maybe that's because it basically is

And good for Kyle.......if he didn't punch Max out......I was ready to myself!

Yeah, I kind of felt like punching Max for most of season 2 and I decided that what better place to do it than in my story

Natalie36:

omg

Is that a good omg or a bad omg?


Eve:

Oh! Liz is really furious because, from the start of Liz's assumption, Max refused even to consider that it could be a possibility an alien was responsible (She was not talking about them precisely!) and turned into a asshole... You see in here that, for Max, the aliens were always more important than their earth friends and it was always so.. and it was sad...

I think in the show the reason Max refused to believe her assumption was because in the back of his mind... he knows that she's right and he can't deal with the guilt that brings. As for Max always feeling that the aliens were more important than the human, I totally agree!


A/N: Yah!!! The second half of chapter 11 is finally here!!! The main reason that i'm happy about posting chapter 11b is because this chapter gave me a hard time and i had trouble trying to keep the pace of the story, while trying to make sure that Kyle's personality and problems from the first half could easily crossover to the second....Plus, I love the small moment between Kyle and Maria that i wrote in this half

'Fade Into You By Mazzy Star' is still the song playing from the first half.

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Liz gave Kyle another reassuring smile before shuttinb the driver’s side door to her car. After the incident with Max, Maria had suggested driving out to the quarry.

Nneither Kyle nor Liz had liked the idea of going out to the quarry, but for different reasons. Liz hadn't liked all the memories of Max that the quarry would dredge up for her...and Kyle didn't like the idea of remembering all those summer nights he had spent there with Alex, Maria, and Liz through the years. It had progressed from being an interesting place to explore and to play ‘Hide and Seek’ into the place where they brought liquor stolen from their parents’ cabinets and told shockingly adult secrets to one another.

Sometimes, back when owning a car seemed like a distant fantasy, they had hitchhiked out to the quarry to get drunk and talk about stupid middle school dramas...and sometime round freshman year, Kyle had stopped going and he had always regretted it, especially since he had never been as peaceful again as he had been there...with them. But Kyle had begun playing football that year; he had been good enough to make varsity and became another popular, cocky, and snobby jock. He'd believed that he was too cool, too good, to do something as silly as hang out at a quarry with a bunch of losers.

That regret was the reason why he had agreed to Maria's idea so reluctantly.

The drive out there wasn't a long one, but the silence that followed once they had gotten there had been. They sat on top roof of Kyle’s beat-up truck, shoulder to shoulder...knee to knee...not talking, just staring out at the light blue sky for what seemed like forever…. until Liz had broken the silence by telling them that she was leaving.

Kyle had immediately offered to drive her home and to stay with her, but she had quickly rebuffed him. She didn't want to have to worry about him being able to get home safely...plus,, she needed to be alone. He wasn't so sure about the latter. The last thing any of them needed right now was to be alone.

He also didn't want her to get hurt driving herself home. Losing one friend to a car accident was enough in Kyle’s book, but after a lot of arguing, Kyle had finally given in. He didn't want to push her any further; he was afraid if he did that she would disappear altogether.

He should have known he wasn't going to win that one. Nothing could change Liz Parker’s mind...not when she had already made the decision. Not even a concerned friend could detour her from it. He had always admired Liz for possessing that kind of conviction. He guessed it was something that he could easily find in himself.

But he still didn't want her to leave. He didn't want her to be alone, especially in another place that would just would remind her so much of Alex. Kyle knocked softly on the window of Liz’s car. “Get home safely,” he shouted to be heard through the closed glass. She offered him another small smile for his concern.

“I will.” She mouthed, giving the glass a light kiss before she put the car into drive and drove out onto the road of the quarry that led to the main highway. He watched her go until her car disappeared from view. He sighed, running his large hands through his newly cut hair. He had gotten a haircut for the funeral… and he didn't know why. It wasn't like he had been trying to impress anyone… or maybe he had. Alex had always said that Kyle needed a haircut.

He turned around, facing Maria, sighed again.It was just him and her now.

“You know, you’re beginning to hurt my feelings,” Maria spoke suddenly, startling Kyle. He hadn't expected her to say anything. He hadn't really expected anything out of her except maybe a resentful glare, a middle finger flipped off in his face, and a trail of rock dust as she revved her car out of the quarry and onto the main road. “You look like you want to be anywhere but here with me.”

He didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say to that...because it was true, well half true anyway. He didn't want to be there because he assumed she didn't want to be there. Maria wasn't exactly his biggest fan. He couldn't blame her for hating him… since he had, in no uncertain terms, told her to fuck off all those years abo… that she was a loser after she had invited him to the quarry to hang out after the big homecoming game their freshman year.

Kyle stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, “I figured you wouldn't want to be here… since you've kind of hated me since freshman year.” He said it with a casualness that he didn't feel. For some reason, it always bothered him that he hadn't gotten her approval back when he was dating Liz.

Maria rolled her eyes at his words, surprising him when she said, “I don’t hate you, Kyle.” She sighed, ran her finger through her own hair before she continuing. “I didn't like you, but… you were always a friend.” She said it with such fondness and love that Kyle had to avert his eyes, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets, suddenly finding his shoes more interesting than her face.

Neither of them said anything again for a long time. Silence stretched between them…but this time it wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most at peace that Kyle had felt in years. He could feel the concern and understanding that Maria felt for him...and he needed that, needed something stable amongst all the chaos and he didn't know how to thank Maria for giving him that.

Kyle walked, sitting back down next to her on the hood of his car... and after few more minutes of silence, he cleared his throat and said, “Of course I am. How else would you have gotten into all those cool parties?” Kyle had an edge of cockiness to his words that he didn't feel, but he couldn't help himself… being smug was his default emotion.

“I can tell that you’re rolling your eyes, Maria.” Kyle laughed afterward, smiling as he bumped her with his shoulder.

And she rolled her eyes again for good measure, making Kyle smile even wider. “That’s because you’re annoying prick!” Maria shot back with her usual feistiness and Kyle could tell that the fun moment between them was over. The air had turned serious again, swirling around them and dimming the light mood.

“Do you agree with Liz, Kyle?” Maria asked with the same suddenness as before. “Do you think Alex was murdered?”

And once again, Maria had caught him off guard.

“No. Y-Yes… kind of.” Kyle stammered, rubbing his eyebrow. “I think she’s right about Alex’s death not being an accident and I do think that maybe he could have been murdered, but I don’t think it was by aliens.”

Maria frowned at him and he felt kind of bad. That probably wasn't the answer she was hoping to hear from him. “Than what do you think?” Maria prodded so softly that Kyle almost didn't hear her.

Kyle shrugged, lying back on top of the hood. “I know Liz,” he said, rubbing his temples as a vague sense of horror washed over him. It felt like his head going to explode. “And I know she wouldn't say something like that if she didn't think it was true.”

“But you saw her today…” Maria paused before deciding to also lie back down on the hood as well. “She was… unstable.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and so was Max, but that doesn't make what he said any less true too.”

Maria sighed.

“But who would want Alex dead?” she asked, turning toward the sky and away from him.

“I don’t know.” He paused as another sharp pain continued to invade his thoughts. “I just don’t know.” He grunted, rubbing his temples, unconsciously palming his stomach...almost like he was trying to fight the urge to puke.

Maria only nodded her head in response, pinching his left hand, urging him to go on… and after a few moments, Kyle did. “I think that maybe he did kill himself.”

It hurt Kyle to say it, but it didn’t make the feeling any less true. “I think he went out there that night to kill himself.”

TBC....

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Part 12


Carolyn:

so both Liz and Max appeared to be "unstable".......

Liz and Max unstable? Hmm...


A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I had originally clocked out this chapter weeks earlier but something had happened to my beta's computer and she wasn't able to beta this chapter until yesterday. So, here's a new chapter and I hope that the chapter's long length makes up for my long absence. I think I'm only two more chapters away from ending ACT 1 The part in all italics is another dream sequence.

I also decided to give you guys another song as well! The song is 'Main Song From The Place Beyond The Pines By Ninna Nanna Per Adulter'. While I thought that the movie itself was okay, I loved the score to this movies especially this song! It fit with the scene of a father sharing something with his child for the first time and I felt it also fit with one of the scene in this chapter as well Play when you see

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The beautifully vast scenery of yet another small town continued to blur around him as he zoomed down another deserted road of Southern Arizona. The town seemed to be even emptier than the last one. Another farm town, he guessed, since he’d seen more windmills and cows in the last twenty-seven hours than actual people the moment he had crossed the border into Arizona.

He supposed that sheer luck must have been on his side back in the last town, since he had been able to stop and fill up the gas tank of the Harley he had stolen back in Albuquerque...because since then, he hadn't seen another gas station.

He glanced quickly at the small gas meter of the motorcycle before turning his attention back to the road ahead of him. Relief washed over him.

There was enough gas that, if he was careful, he would probably be able to pass at least two more towns before he would have to abandon the bike and begin trekking onward on foot into his destination. He had to be in Stark on time. He had to be there to take Tess’ call, and as he continued to speed down the roads of the isolated town of Park Ridge, AZ, vaguely defined shapes of more windmills and cattle whizzed past him to the finer point of his mind… and he thanked God for small favors because he was going to need all the miracles he could get.

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“She wasn't there,” the lanky businessman from the Crashdown said as he slammed the door to the hotel room he and his partner had rented as soon as they had landed in Roswell.

“Where is she?” his partner asked, sifting through the papers their superior officer had gave them when they took the case.

The tall businessman shrugged. “I don’t know; her father wouldn't tell me,” he said, dropping the strong European accent he had spent the last month learning...and had been using all day as he'd asked around town about the one and only Liz Parker.

His partner nodded pensively, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. “We have to find her.”

The tall businessman rolled his eyes a little. As though he didn't already know that. “I wouldn't worry. This is a small town. She couldn't have gone far,” The lanky man said in an offhand manner, shrugging off his gaudy suit jacket. He wasn't worried. How hard could it be to locate a sixteen-year-old girl?

But his partner wasn't so confident. “If she finds anything…”

“Then we’re screwed.” The tall man finished, folding up his jacket and throwing it in the empty closet. Boy, would they be screwed.

“You’re sure you didn't find anything at the boy’s place?” His partner asked again, for the millionth time today.

“I’m sure,” the tall man growled back, beginning to loosen his tie. “All the boy ever seemed to do was read, write, and work on his stupid computer.”

His partner gave him a look.

“Which I wiped clean,” he added, rubbing his thumb against the smooth, electric surface of the memory chip he had used to copy any files that could be of use before wiping the computer clean. “There were some digital entries in his computer about an Isabel… and a Leanne he met in Sweden… but I don’t think it’s going to lead to anything.” He paused as he reached into his long-sleeve shirt’s breast pocket for the printed out journal entries. He pulled out the entries and handed them over to his partner. “I can’t look up any of the names mentioned in his entries except Liz Parker’s since he didn't give any other last names besides hers.”

His partner looked over the documents handed to him with a critical eye so much intense concentration that, at any moment, the tall man expected that his partner’s eyes might burn holes in the paper.

“They’re written in some kind of code,” His partner said curiously. “The police record indicates that they have ruled his death as a suicide.” He continued to scan the papers the tall man had given him.

“Smart man, if he did kill himself.” The tall man whispered, taking another look at the police file that his partner had snatched from the station earlier that morning.

“Yeah… Smart man…” His partner said, unconvinced.

Smart man indeed.

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Liz ignored the worried and disapproving stares from her parents as she walked through the double doors of her family’s restaurant. The Crashdown had closed hours ago, and her dad’s expression said that they had expected her home a while ago for clean up.

“Are you okay?” her mother asked timidly, wiping down a table in the back of the Crashdown. Her father sent her another censuring look as he took a sip of his beer and turned his attention back to look ovver the bills and this month’s inventory.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly. “I’m home now. What do you want me to do?” Liz asked, taking off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves. She knew the look her dad had sent her… and she knew it meant that she was about to endure the hardest chores that the diner had to offer.

“Take out the trash, clean the restrooms, and do the evening dishes,” her father demanded, not taking his eyes off the papers in front of him. “And you’re grounded for two weeks.”

Liz rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue. She didn't have the energy for it. It was just the way her life was now: unfair.

“Could you sweep up the kitchen too, sweetie?” her mother asked, not waiting for her daughter to answer before handing her the broom and cleaning products from the closet.

Liz only nodded her head in response, laying the broom against the booth near the restrooms. She grabbed the bleach cleaner from the mop bucket and headed into the men’s room, closing the door behind her.

Liz pulled out the torn pages of the poem that had the secret message on it from Alex’s room. She had decided before the others had come that leaving the message just laying in plain view wasn't safe… but neither was her keeping it. Nothing was safe anymore. Liz’s [/]life[/i]wasn't safe anymore...not that it had been since the shooting.

Sighing, Liz ran her fingers over the torn ridges of the page, memorizing every line and phrase and word of the message. She didn't know why… because even memorizing it was probably just as dangerous as having the actual pages themselves. But she had to make sure she had gotten the message in her head clearly. She doused the worn-down pages with the bleach cleaner and lit them on fire with the lighter she had also stolen from Alex’s room.

And she watched the flames rapidly creep down the page, her dissuasion final now. She couldn't trust anyone, not anymore… especially not Max, and she had thought that she could always be able to trust him. Maybe that was what Alex had meant when he said not to tell anyone about the message? Maybe he had known that no one would believe her, that no one would care to try. Maybe he knew that it would be up to her to find out the truth.

And she was going to stop at nothing to achieve her goal. It was like the real answers to Alex’s death were staring her right in her face, just out of her reach... and it was driving her crazy. She couldn't live in childish ignorance anymore. She had chosen this life, agreed to keep Max’s secret...and, in doing that, she needed to finally accept that there just wasn't any way to turn her head away from the things she didn't like anymore. She needed to stop making excuses…needed to stop thinking that Max was the man that he wasn't.

She owed the truth to herself… to lay the blinders aside and face reality. She owed that much to her friend.

Liz watched as the flames slowly began to trail down, inches away from burning her fingers. Sighing, she threw the pages in the toilet; the flames disappeared as the water found its way onto the burning pages, turning them into black soot filling the edges of the toilet… and in a few more minutes, she began cleaning the black soot off… and replaying everything she knew so far in her head over and over again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-



“Mommy! Mommy! Is my pannacakes done yet?” a small girl, who was only beginning to learn how to talk, asked. She was smiling—a goofy, dorky and adorable smile that looked like the one Isabel had seen on her father’s face some many times before... a smile that was only reserved for her.

“I haven’t even made the batter yet, kiddy-mini,” Isabel smiled, using the small girl’s nickname that her dad had come up with years ago. The nickname caused her daughter to laugh freely, making her mother’s heart swell with a love that she hadn't known even existed.

Trying to hide the tears in her eyes, Isabel had turned back to stirring the batter when a deep voice said, “Mommy may be an alien, kitten, but she can’t cook up pancakes from thin air.” The man smiled mockingly. The little girl squealed happily when he tickled her.

Isabel smiled. Normally, she would be alarmed to hear someone say the word ‘alien’ so freely around her without caution… but she wasn't. She hadn't even batted an eye when the word popped out of his mouth. It was like that word was said everyday… like it had become a joke over the years of her life. It was something said casually now, so naturally.

“Are you really here?” Isabel asked, leaning into the strong, lean arms that suddenly engulfed her from behind. She continued to stir the pancake batter, the scent finding its way into her senses familiar to her. It was as comforting, commonplace in her life. The smell of cooked bacon and scrambled eggs wafted in the air of their small kitchen. She had known almost instantly who was holding her. She didn't have to turn around to know that it was him.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked a moment later, snuggling deeper into his arms as she poured the blueberry batter into the pre-heated pan. She could feel his smile on her cheek.

“I think you know the answer to that.” He kissed her hair softly, dipping his finger into the lumpy batter when she placed the half-empty bowl back on the counter. “Do you want this to be a dream?” he asked, laughing when she swatted his hand away.

She thought that over as she flipped the pancake onto its other side. “No.” She kissed his upper arm, causing a child-like ‘ewww’ to fill her ears a minute later. “But I know it is.” Isabel smiled bitterly as she reminded herself that she could wake up at any moment… and the happiness she felt in her very core would disappear into thin air.

He hummed lightly behind her before saying, “Then just enjoy it, Isabel Enjoy it.” His warm arms left her for a moment, causing her to whine softly. He wasn’t even gone a minute and she missed his warmth already… and he wasn't even real. This wasn't even real.

A moment later—before Isabel could completely break down in tears—she felt another set of familiar and comforting arms wrap around her neck, hugging her tightly and lovingly.

“Right, Katie-belle?” Alex asked their three-year-old daughter as he wrapped his arms around Isabel’s waist. He kissed her left cheek.

“Right, Daddy.” Katie, Isabel’s daughter, giggled before kissing her mother’s other cheek. “Just enjoy it, Mommy.” Isabel tearfully laughed, hugging and kissing them both back before…

She crashed back intomreality, bolting upright in her bed. She could feel hot tears rolling down her sweaty face as the dream slowly faded from her mind...and she was left feeling nothing but sadness once again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

What was he thinking, coming here? It wouldn't do any good… he couldn't fix this one. Oh, God, he couldn’t fix this mistake. Max sighed, turning off the engine of his Jeep as the memories began to suffocating him again, one by one—each one just as bittersweet as the last. His thoughts threatened to engulf him until there was nothing left but an overwhelming regret that seemed to be a part of his everyday life now.

God, what was he doing? He really shouldn't have come here. She wouldn't want to see him... and quite frankly, he didn't want to see her. But just being there, watching her, it made him feel better. It seemed to right all the wrongs he'd done lately… especially the one he had almost done earlier at Alex's.

He should leave. He wasn’t welcome. He should just start the car and peel out...abandoned this idea altogether. She wouldn't forgive him. So he should just drive away, right now![/i] But he couldn't will himself to do so. He couldn't leave, couldn't drive away into the night anymore than he could have stopped himself from coming there in the first place... because just like every other moment in his life, he couldn't leave Liz Parker alone, no matter how much he tried.

So he sat in his car, watching as Liz swept up the dining area, humming softly to herself. He just sat, watching as the lights of the Crashdown faded dowm and night became dawn. He sat in his car just watching, waiting for the moment when he could turn on the engine and leave her behind forever.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Dad, wake up. I’m home.” Kyle shook his father’s shoulder firmly, praying that he wasn't passed out drunk on the couch. His dad jerked up violently and glared at his son, all the files piled around him falling to the floor. Out of his peripheral vision, Kyle noticed that Alex’s photo was poking out of the side of one of them, the word ‘suicide’ scribbled across it.

Kyle took a deep breath.

“Where you been?” Jim Valenti slurred sharply, struggling to sit upright. His dad may not be passed out drunk, but he was definitely drunk enough to get there...if the two half-empty Jack Daniels bottles laying on the coffee table were anything to go by.

Kyle shrugged his shoulders. “I was out with Maria.” He took his dad’s hand, pulling him up off the couch rest of the way. “How much have you had to drink?“

“Where’s Tess?” Jim ignored him.

“I don’t know.” Kyle sighed, watching his dad closely. “She left with Max.”

His dad groaned, swaying a little to the side, and Kyle hoped that he wouldn't fall over.

“She’s safe.” Kyle decided to add.

“She should be home,” Jim snapped, swatting his son’s hand away when he swayed again.

“Well, she isn't.” Kyle mumbled, wrinkling his forehead in frustration. He hated when his dad got drunk... since he wasn't a particularly nice one. “Dad, I’ll wait for Tess. Just go to bed,” he said, feeling dejected. He didn't need to be reminded, once again, about how broken everybody in his life was.

Couldn't he have a break from the uselessness and hopelessness that continually consumed his everyday life? Could they all? He just wanted everything to be like the way it used to be… before the running and fearing for his life and the lives of his friends had become the norm. He knew how to handle normal… but had no rule book for this; the never ending feeling of being frayed, roughed around the edges. He couldn't stand it... especially when his dad looked like he would probably drop to the floor and pass out if he stayed upright in the living room any longer.

Kyle wasn't in the mood to pick him up off the floor. He couldn't hardly pick up himself up.

Jim gave his son an odd look, like he was studying him with an intensity that he would use to stare down a suspect. Like he was trying to hide something, trying to protect him from information he needed to know...like he was disappointed in him. Jim had promised Kyle that he wouldn’t drink again after the binge he went on after his wife left.

“Okay,” Jim sighed, deflated. He was too drunk to try and figure out what his son was up to. He’d ask him about it tomorrow. “Tell her she’s grounded,” he added sternly… or as sternly as a drunken man could be.

“I’ll do that,” Kyle said, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. “I promise.”

“Kyle?” Jim asked, hoping his son would be willing to hear it right now.

“Yes?” Kyle gave his dad a questioning look before picking up one of the Jack Daniels bottles and stared at it intently. Maybe his dad had the right idea…. maybe being drunk would make him forget everything for awhile too. Kyle didn't think that Tess would show up anytime soon...and he might as well drink while he waited.

“I love you…” Jim paused when Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. “You know that, right?” Jim asked, pulling Kyle into a sloppy hug.

Kyle tensed. His father hadn't been this sentimental since the Skins had wiped everybody out in Roswell. “Yeah, Dad,” Kyle said shakily, hesitantly returning the hug. “I know.”

TBC....

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Part 13

Eva:

It keeps getting more dark by the minute. It's getting more creepy than ever.

Yeah! A lot of people are saying that! and It's only gonna get darker and creepier as it goes

Carolyn:

Alex on a motorcycle.......I'd like to see that.

Yeah, I would like to see that too!

Isabel's dreams were heartbreaking.

Yes, they are There hard for me to write but there harder for me to watch too.

Jim's not doing so good......so Kyle just joins in and has a drink.

No... the Valenti boys are not doing good and in this part, you'll see Kyle sink even lower than his dad.

Eve:

Alex isn't dead but Liz thinks he is and it's not good, because she is ready for everything! Even the worse...
And these men, certainly alien hunters or even worse...

And Max, well, I don't know what to think about... he is in between and obviously doesn't know what is going on...

You'll see how Liz AND Max deal with investigating into Alex's death. Those men... aren't good people.


A/N: Hello, Everybody! I'm back... but only just to post this part.

Unfortunately, I no longer have a computer to work on my story with. I had a good friend who recently passed away and he allowed me to use his personal computer to write my stories with... but now that he's passed his family has taken back his computer and decided to give it to another family member.

So, I won't be able to post anything new for awhile until I can find a way to get my own computer. I'll try to come back as soon as I can.

The song featured in this part is 'Go First By Rose Cousins play when you see

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Alex didn’t think it was possible, but Stark was an even smaller town than the one that he had just passed through. The population barely cleared a hundred...and the ‘Welcome to Stark’ post board wouldn’t have made him feel any more welcome if it been written on a chalkboard in big bold letters with different colors for each word...and the town itself had the atmosphere of a place where people with nothing left to lose would came to die. It looked barren, void of any life. He was afraid that if he breathed too hard, it might just crumble into dust and blow away in the humid wind.

He raised his eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses, licking his lips. It was no wonder that, when he had looked online, all he had been able to find was a blue, red, and white striped postcard with the word “Stark’ stamped on it to send to Tess… because if they had shown what the town had really looked like, nobody in their right mind would ever go there.

He wouldn’t be surprised if a tumbleweed came rolling right past him at this very moment. He almost expected one to. Sighing, he took off his sunglasses. He didn’t seem to need them anymore. He was pretty sure that the town hadn’t seen the sun in years.

He stuffed them in the front pocket of his denim jacket and continued to stare at the bleak scenery before him. Why he had chosen to come to this wasteland to wait for Tess’ call was beyond the cusp of his mental capacity. He guessed the idea of a place that he had never been to before had had an overwhelmingly appeal to him when he had made his plans to leave. He was kind of glad that Stark looked like the personification of death captured in a tiny box of a town…at least no one would think to search for him—or any other possible living soul for that matter--in a place like this.

He swung a small knapsack over his right shoulder. He had stolen it about four days into his travels when deciding he was going to abandon the small duffel he had originally had with him back in Santa Fe. It had been too much of a hassle to carry it around..and decisions were made in order of what was the best course of action to keep him moving towards the next town. So the duffle bag went...and knapsack became his new travel companion.

He had been walking for about thirty minutes when he came across a ratty, old diner just on the outskirts of the town's Main Street...and like everything else in Stark, the small café was falling apart into nothingness.

The building’s paint had begun to peel off in odd places. Its sign—which was supposed to read Lulu’s Special Links Café above the entrance—had letters missing, fading away...making it difficult for him to read. But he didn’t need to understand the sign to know that he was in the right place. It was the only place within a hundred miles that had a beaten up payphone installed on the side of the building with the number 541-222-0919 printed on it.

He grinned tiredly. He was finally there. He had found what he had been looking for.

Relieved and a bit excited, he rushed towards the payphone, dropping his knapsack on the ground next to him. It was an old thing… so old that there was an actual electric cord sticking out of the bottom of the receiver instead of the metallic kind that were on payphones nowadays. He kind of admired that He liked the nostalgic feel it evoked in him. It was the only thing that actually stood out in this black and white town.

He ran his finger along the outlines of the wire cord, feeling a small snag in the plastic line. He groaned aloud. He might have found the payphone that he was looking for... but he wasn’t so sure that it would actually work. Even if the snag in the line turned out to be nothing to worry about, it was still an old pay booth.There was still a risk that it might have been disconnected...or had stopped working a long time ago. It looked like people of this town hadn’t used the phone since the late forties.

He groaned again; his plan was beginning to unravel right in front of him. This couldn’t be happening. He needed this phone to work. He had prayed that this phone would work… his life and of those around him depended on it.

“Admiring that payphone, boy?” an unfamiliar voice asked him, causing every muscle in his body to tense up. His senses began to work overtime as fear gripped him. It wasn't possible! How did they found him?

He had been so careful to cover his tracks.

He slowly put his left hand back into his jean jacket, reaching for the small gun he had stuffed in the inside pocket. He cocked it, turning around...ready to fire through the fabric of his jacket...but he rolled his eyes at himself instead when he came face to face with the person behind him. It was only a worried patron coming out of the diner.

He wasn’t one of them.

Get a grip! He put the gun back on safety and turned back towards the payphone.

“You looking to use it?” The man asked politely.

“Does it work?” He asked back, scraping off some of the dirt and grime that had collected over the numbers of the payphone.

The man quirked an eyebrow and reassured him, “Damn, right it does,” he said proudly. “It’s the only phone in all of Stark that gets enough reception that allows us to call outside of town.”

He nodded briefly, satisfied… but there was still a question he needed to ask. “Can it receive calls too?” The man gave him a look of suspicious at his question...and Alex had been sorry he had to ask it. The guy probably didn’t see many outsiders…especially not those who were as young and odd looking as he was...standing there, asking so many questions about a damn payphone.

“Yeah, I guess. If the person knew the number,” the man answered, before asking his own question. “You got a job, boy?”

“No.” Why did it matter? He won’t be there long enough to work anyway.

The man nodded his head.

“Why don’t you work for me at my convenience store just down the block a piece?” the man asked, smiling at him.

He stopped rubbing the numbers above the telephone and turned to face the man again, his face knitting in confusion.
“Why?” he asked, curious.

He was the one suspicious now. If he had learned anything in his short time of living, it was that nobody offered anything for free. There was always a price to be paid… and he wanted to know what this man’s price was upfront.

“Why not?” The old man gave him a puzzled look, like he was stunned by his caution. He rolled his eyes. Wasn’t he just as the suspicious of him just a moment ago?

“Because you don’t even know me,” Alex replied, disgruntled. Was everyone so dense this far up north? “I could clock you over the head with a lead pipe and steal all your money from the cash register for all you know.”

The man laughed....actually laughed at him. Fuck you!He sneered.

“I don’t think so, boy. I can tell you’re not the type,” the man said, laughing even more when he scoffed. “Besides, you seem like a polite enough fellow...and you look like you need the money to save up to get on out of here.”

The guy definitely wasn’t a good judge of character...and he had a fucked up sense of logic…but he was right about one thing. He did needthe money.

“I’m expecting a call anyway, so I’ll work for you.” He paused, staring at the payphone again. “But only for a month. I don’t stay anywhere longer than a month, understood?”

“I got you,” the man mumbled, offering his hand. “I’m Frank, by the way. What’s your name, kid?” Frank asked, still smiling… at a complete stranger. Alex couldn’t shake the sense that it was more of a leer than a smile. He felt his stomach drop. He had a feeling that there was something deeply wrong with this guy. Something that made him want to politely take back his offer and run the other way, maybe he should have fired his gun anyway.

There was something was wrong here, but he didn’t know what. The man was being too polite to him, offering him a job like he had.

Alex shook his head. He was being paranoid, wary…waiting for the sky to fall. Life on the run did that to him. He was wound up tight. He needed to remember to chill out and relax, not everybody was out to get him.

Besides, what could possibly be wrong with someone willing to offer a good job to a guy who looked like he was strung out on meth... and smelled like he hadn’t showered in days? He was just being a Good Samaritan There should be more people like Frank in the world.

“Alex,” He said after a few moments. The man's smile widened at that...and Alex decided there was no harm in smiling back.

“My name’s Alex.” He repeated, shaking the guy’s hand.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Breathe in. Inhale.
Breathe out. Exhale.
Breathe! Just breathe!

Isabel felt as though the room was swimming beneath her eyelids. Everything within her line of view had become unfocused...unbalanced. Breathing was no longer involuntary for her; she had to work to keep her lungs full of oxygen to keep herself alive. Nothing significant could register in her brain...colors kept washing in and out of view, flashes of a starry-light sky floated in and out of her head, replacing the darkness of her room.

She was beginning to forgot the ability to distinguish the difference between reality and her dreams anymore. She was in a never ending nightmare…forever crying herself to sleep...and screaming herself awake. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling above, willing herself to keep on breathing...hoping that she would finally succumb to the darkness slowly creeping up inside of her.

The light of the glow-in-the-dark stars glued to her ceiling slowly began to overwhelm her sight, temporally blinding herl. Its starry yellow glow was coming and going out of her line of sight...before finally making sense to her again. She could still remember the day she had gone out and bought them; this fake star system that now lit her room.

It had been a week after she had stargazing with Alex in Frasier Woods. She couldn’t remember why she had bought them...nor did she understand the need for her purchase. It had been an impulse buy on her part, almost like something beyond her will had caused her to buy those pretty little stars to light her room... didn't even realized what she had done until she'd walked into her room and pulled them out the bag, and two dozen plastic little stars fell into her soft hand.

She guessed it was a part of her that she had wanted to preserve, a feeling to keep for all eternity...her mind forcing her to confront a part of herself that felt indefinable; the feelings she felt for the strange, lanky boy named Alex Whitman, who was quickly becoming her anchor. Her feelings had grown deep, even back then...slowly becoming a seeded longing in her heart that made her stop cold whenever she saw a star in the sky, that had made her realize that the stars on her wall paled in comparison to the feeling she got when she sat out in the cold November air to stare upon the stars filling the Roswell sky. It was the only feeling within her that was constant and pure in her life.

But even that had seemed to have gone rotten, hadn't it? She no longer yearned for that feeling. She resented it now, wishing it to fade away along with that piece of her heart that had once stored it. She no longer became paralyzed by the stars in the sky...no longer prayed for them to shine bright for her to see. She didn't long for a lot of things anymore… except maybe for the boy who had once envoked them....because now the anger was beginning to quickly take over her heart.

Isabel Evans was fading away...and an alien was replacing who she once was.

She shifted in her bed, turning away from the ceiling. The dim yellow disappeared from her field of view, a white sparkle replacing the color in her mind... her left hand twisted the wedding ring that she had slipped onto her middle finger after Alex’s. She could feel the diamond scraping against the edge of her finger. The diamond was small… probably because he couldn’t afford anything bigger… but it still drew enough blood that begun dripping from her hand onto her bed sheets.

But she didn’t care. She’d just get rid of the sheets in the morning. It was just vital to feel something right now… anything… besides the deep and invisible prodding sting of anger consuming her soul. She needed the pain to fill up her every sense...distract her from the unbearable pain in her heart… even if this pain was pale in comparison… but as she felt the diamond tear into her flesh she began to understand something. The kind of pain that took over the other was keeping her human. It was keeping her from turning any further into the animal she feared she was… the memory of Vilandra….the person she was afraid she would one day become-- that kind of monster that Maria had thought that they were back in the earlier days of their friendship.

So she kept using the ring as release...as a new anchor. The pain the diamond caused her was the only link left to her human half. She slowly began to breathe on her own again, the chanting in her head dying down. Colors stopped swimming in and out of focus...and she could tell that she was no longer in a dreamland...but back in her life, in a reality that she had worked hard to build...one that she understood. It was crazy that it took a ring that would never fulfill its purpose to make her feel sane again. It was sad that her nights… her life… had came down to staring at her ceiling in a haze, unable to tell what was the dream and what was reality. It was a wedding ring of the boy who might have been her husband… if things had been different, if God had been merciful… that kept her from breaking down completely and going insane.

The person she was turning into was holding onto the past...and slowly letting go of her hook on reality. Day by day its grip was inchinb out of her grasp… until there was nothing left but the husk of what she used to be, what she could have been. She realized, with a surreal sense of horror, that she didn’t mind becoming that person too much.

No, she didn’t mind that person at all… not even a little

-/-/-/-/-/-/-


Maria took out her key to Michael’s apartment from her purse and unlocked the door, using her petite body to push it open softly to keep from alerting him to her presence. She was afraid that if he knew that she was sneaking into his apartment after everything that happened earlier, he would tell her to fuck off and never come back.

So she closed the door quietly behind her, slowly creeping through the living room. Her footsteps were muffled by the old shag carpet that the previous owner had laid down in the hallway that led to his bedroom. She was trying to avoid the wood board in the center that always creaked whenever she stepped on it.

She stopped in front of his bedroom, staring at his large and muscular frame. He was sprawled over half of the twin bed...and she vaguely noticed that the bedroom door was left wide open, swinging back and forth softly from the breeze flowing in through the window that he had also left cracked open. It was almost like he had expected her to come over and crawl into bed with him...of this fact, she didn’t have a single doubt.

He snuggled deeper into the bed, probably fantasizing of the ways that she would aplogize to him when she came over. She almost wanted to laugh out loud at that thought, but instead she fidgeted a little in the dress that she had worn to the funeral. She rolled her eyes instead. If he thought that she had come over to apologize for what happened earlier, then he had another thing coming. She hadn’t come over to apologize. She hadn’t even come over to hear him apologize either. She came over because it was time to face reality… to deal with what she had always been happy to ignore...but she couldn’t ignore it any longer, not the tension swirling around them… aeound their group of friends… was unavoidable now. Not when the glue that had always seemed to hold their fragile partnerships together was slowly, and painfully, beginning to come undone.

Things were changing...and it was foolish to deny it any longer. It was like Kyle said. It had really become aliens vs. humans.

"I’m not going to apologize,” Maria whispered into the darkness engulfing his small room...because despite the silence, she could tell that he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was quickening at the sound of her voice...and she could hear him huffing all the way across the room. “There was nothing we could have done…”

Maria could see Michael’s muscles stiffen in anger from where she was standing, his hands balling into fists. She leaned a little against the door frame, waiting to see if he would say anything… but he didn’t acknowledge her presence... and after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Maria continued.

“You had to leave with Max," Maria bit out, trying to sound stronger than she felt in the moment. She felt like she was going to shatter into tiny little pieces at one wrong word, one wrong turn. It was like the glue that made her a flesh and bone person was beginning to peel away, ready to expose someone that she didn’t even realize had been there beneath her skin. It was almost like she was the alien, not Michael. “And I had to stay with Liz and Kyle.” she breathed, her voice sounding small and foreign even to her own ears.

“Why?” Michael asked suddenly, startling her. His voice was grim and bitter compared to hers. “Why did you have to stay?”

“Because it’s just the way it is,” Maria said, closing her eyes at Michael’s growl, trying to stall the tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. He was still facing the wall, but while his body language had originally been inviting... almost cocky when she first entered the hallway...he now pulled further way from her, silently asking her to leave and not come back.

She sighed, growing frustrated at herself for not being stronger when it came to him...and at Michael for not understanding that he needed to be less stubborn when it came to her. He knew what was coming, what she was going to say...and instead of making it easier on her, he was making it harder… trying to force her hate him. Maybe he is making it easier.

A deep sadness overtook her. Maybe he knew that if she didn’t hate him by the end of this conversation… then she wouldn’t be able to let him go. Michael was always better at understanding her than she was at understanding herself.

“Just because we have what we have…” she paused, willing herself to go on. “Doesn’t mean that we can just drop what we had before it,” she said desperately, trying to make him understand what needed to happen… trying to make herself understand what needed to be done.

“All you’ve ever known is Isabel and Max,” Maria reasoned, thankful for the darkness of his apartment. She was pretty sure that she was crying now. “And all I had with A-Alex, Liz, and Kyle,” She could feel her heart tighten painfully at the mention of Alex’s name, her voice breaking a little.

It still hurt too much to say his name. She guessed that it would always be now.

“What are you saying, Maria?” Michael asked. His voice was softer than it had been before. He sounded almost like he was pleading with her for something that she couldn’t give him...that she didn’t know how to.

He stirred in his bed, kicking the sheets off. He started to move a little in her direction, like he'd decided that he'd whether get up and hold her then stay in bed, cold and distant. She wished he'd stayed in the bed.

She put a hand up to warn him off. “What I am saying is…” Maria started again, trying to find the words that she needed. It was like there suddenly were no words to explain what needed to be done… or was it that she just couldn't ’t say them out loud. It was like she was purposely making them float away in her mind so that things could just stay the way they have been between them. “That when it comes down to it, when this war between us all really starts... and lines become drawn in the sand... you will go with Max,” Maria finally explained, her voice hitching. Her lungs gasping for air. “And I will go with Liz." she finished.

She was crying a little harder, unable to hold back. Her body was shaking violently with her barely concealed sobs. “And when this war reallybegins,” Michael said ambivalently, ignoring the small hitches of dry heaving that filled the air in his bedroom, a fact she was grateful for, “Does that mean that we are over?”

Michael waited.

She moved a little further into his room.

“Yes, Michael,” Maria said between sobs. She was unable to hold herself together anymore. She could feel the tears rolling down her face with abandon. “Yes, I think it does.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Tess was a little ashamed that she was so fascinated by the amber flames blazing before her-- the snap, crackling, and popping ringing in her eardrums was a pleasant sort of white noise. The twigs she had picked up around Frasier Woods...and the firewood she had stolen from the local hardware store on her way out there...were beginning to cave in on themselves in the small pit as the flames continued to eat up the postcard she had thrown into it a while ago. She could feel the heat of the blaze bouncing, reflecting in her eyes.

Her dark blue irises were almost a stark black in the pale moonlight.The warmth of the flames were sending tingles through her body, making her face and her hands fuzzy and hot to the touch. She swore that she felt like she was one step away from catching on fire herself… and she thought she would eagerly welcome it. Welcome the feeling of something tangible, textural....something that she could almost taste, feel roll over her body in chronic waves of relief.

She would finally be able to get what she longed for, a departure from being completely numb… immobile.

She picked up one of the remaining twigs in her stock pile and poked the flame with it, rearranging some of the wood before deciding to throw the twig itself in there as well. She briefly looked up at the sky above her, seeing hints of pink and yellow shining softly down from the sky and onto her face. The cold breeze rustled her hair a bit... cooling her cheeks and making the flame flicker a in the declining moonlight. It’s nearing dawn. She sighed. It was time to let the flames die down and go.

She needed to head home soon. She was already in enough trouble with Jim Valenti as it was.

Tess had been avoiding having to deal with him when she had snuck out of the house early the other day. She hadn’t wanted to deal with Mr. Valenti’s scolding. She'd barely tolerated his attempts to parent her on her good days. She was grateful to him for a place to stay, but he wasn’t her father... and she couldn’t deal with his acting like he was… not now. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t gone home when she had stormed out of Alex’s room, opting instead to take a long walk deep into the woods and make a fire. She needed to burn the postcard anyway… but it wasn’t the main reason.

No, the main reason was Kyle. She had a feeling that, after what had happened in Alex’s room yesterday, she wouldn’t be quite so welcome back home in Kyle’s eyes. She felt that her presence in the Valenti home would invoke a righteous rage... resentment and judgment in Kyle's eyes, especially considering all the other burdens in his life. She was no longer welcome in Kyle’s heart…or in his life. She had felt when he bore holes into her back with his angry gaze as she walked out of the room with Max and Isabel. She could feel it vibrating off him, ready to weigh her down.

Tess knew that he was angry with her for choosing Max’s side, for putting up with Max’s whole ‘King’ act... for belittling Alex’s life by saying that he killed himself...and she couldn’t fault him for that. He had every right to be angry. She was even a little angry with herself for having done it, for putting so little weight on Alex’s life when it had meant so much to her too but… it was her job. It was what she had to do, what she needed to do for the plan to work. It was all part of the plan… and she needed to stick with it. And if that included her having to constantly act like a back-stabbing, careless and selfish bitch...then so be it. She was going to get the job done. No matter what she had to do. She owed that much to her friend… and she owed that much to herself.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh air of the wilderness. The pine needles and old sap kindled in the air, the scent wafting up her nose along with the mixture of wood smoke and the morning dew that began to dampen her shoes. She watched, mesmerized, as the fire slowly began to die down to a black and sooty stain in the dirt...the white puffs of smoke evaporating into nothingness, blending into the morning sky.

Sighing with content interlaced into her every bone and muscle, Tess stood up and rubbed her converses against the wet grass of the forest. She couldn’t hide out in Frasier Woods forever. She had to go back...and as the sun slowly began to peek out beautifully over the horizon, beating down softly over the desert dunes and cliffs lining the outskirts of the small woods… she figured it was as good a time as any.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Michael couldn’t stand it anymore. He could swear he still heard Maria’s violent sobs as she walked out of the room… walked out of his life. Everything that was said, every unsaid emotion still echoing off the walls of his room, filled up the dark spaces of his mind to be replayed over and over again – existing for the sole purpose of torturing him. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was going crazy in his apartment all alone with nothing but his thoughts as his company. It was like he was imprisoned, bound by all the things that he should have said to keep her from walking out his front door… the things that he had needed to say to her, but hadn’t. He was glad now that he hadn’t … because if he had, he was afraid he would truly have nothing left to hold onto.

What was he so afraid of? Why hadn’t he been able to say all the things that he had wanted to say? What had made her so much stronger than he was in that department? For such a powerful creature, he was pretty weak… and he hated it. And he hated her for making him feel that way. She had always made him feel weak…

The sun was beginning to rise, shining in streams through the blinds of his room. He wanted the new day to go away, to stop and turn back to a day where everything made sense to him...back when he didn’t feel like he had died right along with Alex Whitman, back to when he still had Maria as his girlfriend. He wanted to be clueless again. He wanted to go back to being alone, to being blind to the burdens that his life had brought her and all their human friends...because maybe than she would have stayed. If they could just pretend again… be a group again....everything would make sense. He wanted to blame Max for what was happening… but he knew he was just as much to blame in the dysfunction. It often felt like he was more culpable than Max or Tess… and much more than Isabel. But he didn’t want to think about that… he didn’t want to think about anything.

He didn’t want to feel anymore. He just didn’t want--fuck Maria! She was nothing without him. She’d be back… she always came back.

And another thing--fuck Max! He needed to grow a set of balls and deal with the mess that he was creating with Liz. And, most of all, fuck Alex! Fuck him for dying, that lanky bastard! He had to turn the world upside down by killing himself, didn’t he?! Why?! Was his life so fucking miserable that he had to pull a chicken game and get his head severed by a windshield?!

Had it all really been so bad? He shook his head. Did he think about any of us in the end? Were we the last thing he had hought about before he got his brainpan splattered against the interior of his piece of shit car? Did he think about Isabel? Maria… or Liz? Did he think about any of them?

He sneered. Nobody would think about an alien before they died… not even Maria. He almost wanted to be ashamed for not being more of a man, for not being strong… for not being human. But it didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.

Maybe Alex had the right idea. Maybe he was really that genius that he always proclaimed to be. He'd must have known that everybody dies alone… that we all must be alone to prevent the hurt that would come from being held while taking that last breath. Maybe that was why he didn’t tell anybody that he was in pain… why he drove so far away, so far into the dark of that deserted highway? Why Alex decided to kill himself the way that he did.

He must have known it… because everybody we love leaves eventually. It was the only thing that made sense. It was the only thing that Michael could be sure about. So why prolong the inevitable? Michael was just as alone as Alex… if not more. He was alone in the world as much as the one he had come from. He should be like Whitman, not care about anything anymore. He didn’t think he had it in his heart to. Not after what had happened.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Kyle continued to sing the words to some stupid song that had been nestled in his head for the last week. His voice was lazy, clumsy...every word coming out in half jumbled sentences or incoherent ramblings that were once lyrics to a song. He continued to slur through the chorus, his voice botching the melody around the living room of his house. His words seemed loud to his ears, roaring, almost reaching a deafening scream of a mash pit. He was almost tempted to cover his ears and sing even louder, yelling insane nonsense at the top of his lungs. He drunkenly thanked God that his father was passed out in the other room and couldn’t hear him acting like a fucking jackass. He continued to scream, cuss and be a general stupid ass just for the sake of being able to… just to remind himself that he wasn’t going completely out of his ever loving mind.

Yes, he felt like thanking God endlessly that his father didn’t have to see him like this. His father had enough to worry about...and an equally drunken and idiotic son didn’t need to be one of them right now. Kyle took another swig of the rest of the Jack Daniels he had lapped up the moment his father had slammed the door behind him and passed out. He leaned his head further back in the recliner that Tess had demanded they buy after the whole Christmas fiasco, wishing that his head would stop hurting so much. He hadn’t been able to get rid of the pulsing headache that begun earlier when he was talking to Maria out at the quarry. The alcohol didn’t help things any. He could practically feel his head drowning in the liquor that he had drunk since he got home… but he couldn’t seem to stop consuming it.

He banged his head against the soft fabric of the recliner, to keep his mind off of his headache… but maybe he did it to make his head hurt more, to feel what was in his heart… to feel the pain that he hadn’t known was lurking there until then-- or maybe, most likely, it was just that he had nothing better to do than hurt himself. But something was telling him that none of those theories were right. It was like something was gnawing at his brain, telling him to think harder… to think clearer for longer. He was almost there… he was so close to knowing all the answers. It was like the feeling was instinctively a part of him, as natural as breathing. The answers that he was seeking were a base coat to his whole being.

Kyle shook his head, taking another drink. He didn’t know. It didn’t really matter much anyway. The knowledge that such a dawning realization wasn’t going to change a thing about his life… it wasn’t going to change the fact that he was still yearning for something so simple yet so beyond him. Something he could hold in his hands. A wider understanding of something---

“Fuck that,” he huffed out suddenly, banging the glass bottle against his hip. “Take another drink, Valenti.”

And after a few seconds, he did. There wasn’t any sense thinking on things like that. He'd had enough deep thoughts to last one lifetime. He needed to stick to things he knew and understood– drinking and playing sports. The liquor in his hands was something he knew, that he understood… not some unfathomable thought that seemed to turn to thick puffs of smoke every time he felt like he was close to approaching it. He knew those things didn’t matter…not in the long run. He was still going to be sitting in the same chair, fruitlessly waiting for a girl that would probably never return home if Max Evans had anything to say about it. He still be sitting in a chair, drunk and waiting. It was better to know nothing except what was in front of him, what was in his hands...what he could easily touch. He didn’t need to know the matters of the universe. He just didn’t need to know.

“You shouldn’t go and feel so sorry for yourself, Kyle.” A familiar voice spoke, chuckling good naturedly. Kyle leaned forward abruptly. The glass bottle fell from his lap and onto the floor with a loud thud, breaking into a million pieces...and spilling the rest of the alcohol inside onto the hardwood floor.

That couldn’t have been Tess. That wasn’t her voice; he knew the sound of her hypnotic vocal tones from just about anywhere. He’d be able to stand in the middle of a crowded room and walk toward it without a doubt in his mind… but this voice. This voice was one that was far more instinctive to him, almost like knowing what to do if someone had put a basketball...or a football in his hand after years of not playing the game. This voice was one he had been introduced to on the first day of third grade, when a small and smiley kid had asked him to play on the swing set of the West Roswell Elementary school playground. The voice didn’t belonged to Tess, it belonged to…

“Alex…”

TBC...

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Part 14

Eve:

And at the end, Kyle seeing Alex? Is a shape-shifter in Roswell again?

Hmmm... You'll find out in this part

Carolyn:

Alex hiding out in Stark......waiting to hear from Tess.....
Isabel clinging to the wedding ring....so sad for her.
It was so difficult to see them all have to take sides, nothing good will happen from that.
Kyle continues to fall......even he's glad his dad doesn't have to see him in that shape.

I like to say that everything will get better for our favorite characters... but it won't... not for a long time

A/N: Hey, Everybody!!! I got lucky! A friend of mine is visiting me and is allowing me to use his computer to write my story while he's here. Unfortunately, my current situation will continue once he leaves... but for now, I have a new part for you guys

Sorry the parts so short It was longer but I felt that everything would flow better if I ended it here.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Alex…” Kyle repeated, his soft voice echoing against the four walls of the living room. Tess shoved her hands deeper in her pockets, closing her eyes. She leaned against the large wooden doorframe of the Valenti’s front door, frozen. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She felt like she was going to start hyperventilating. What?! What did he just say?!?

“Kyle…” she croaked, her eyes still closed shut… shifting slightly on the balls of her tiny feet. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.

“Alex… Alex… is that you?” Kyle asked sharply, his eyes squinting in her direction against the dim lighting of the living room. He continued to lean forward in the recliner, his worn down dress shoes cracking, scraping the litter of broken glass against the hardwood floor.

“Alex… Alex, come on! Answer me!” He yelled a moment later, making her flinch. She kept her eyes closed even tighter. There was nothing that she could do… Kyle was just… he was just hallucinating. He was drunk and hallucinating. That was it. That was all… but deep down she knew; she knew with all her heart that wasn't it. That wasn't all. No… he was… Kyle was beginning to break out of the mind warp.

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes. There was nothing that she could do… nothing except mind warp him again.

“Kyle,” she called again, hoping that she could just break him from his daze without having to perform a mind warp. “Kyle… Kyle, it’s me.” She paused when he snorted. “It’s Tess… I’m home.” Tess leaned forward slowly, walking away from the front doorframe. She closed the door behind her.

“Tess?” he drawled out, turning his head away from her, realization dawning on him. “Tess…” He said softly, dropping his body back against the recliner hard, causing the recliner to bounce backward slightly. “Tess,” he repeated again, sighing. “I’m sorry… I’m drunk.” He slurred, laying his arm across his face.

“It’s fine,” she shrugged and shoved her hands deeper in her pocket, trying to play nonchalance. Besides the whole hallucinating Alex thing, the situation didn't really bother her all that much… She knew that there was chance that one of the Valenti boys would be drunk by the time she got home. She just hadn't expected it to be Kyle…

“Are you okay?” she asked a moment later, breaking the silence of the tense atmosphere around her. Reluctantly, she walked over to the couch and squatted next to him, rubbing his free arm.

“Huh?” He mumbled, his bloodshot eyes peeking over his arm directly at her.

“Are you okay?” she repeated again, a little louder, still lightly stroking his arm.

“Fine,” he huffed, tearing his arm away from her. “I’m drunk and hallucinating a dead friend… I couldn't be any finer,” he replied hotly.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed. When did it become so hard to talk to Kyle? To comfort him? Maybe the moment you started excessively lying, faking the death of a friend, belittling the fears of others, and generally being a horrible human being, a small voice in the back of her mind said venomously. She wanted to scream at that voice, tell it to shut up and insist that it wasn't her fault… that everything it had said wasn't true… but it was true. It was all true. How could she expect to still know how to be around Kyle when she wasn't the same person she had been when she first moved into the Valenti home? She couldn't be… and she was tired of being expected to.

“I’m going to bed.” She said shortly, trying to shake her somber thoughts away. When did self-pity become a part of her personality? She began to walk away to get some much needed rest when Kyle’s arm shot out and grabbed her elbow.

She turned to him, ready to shout at him, tell him to get his drunken hands off of her, when he said, “Don’t leave me. I… I don’t wanna be alone.” He whispered desperately, lightly stroking her elbow with his thumb. “Can you s-sit next to me until I fall asleep?” He asked, his slurred voice intermixed with fear and fatigue.

He looked so much older than she remembered him being yesterday, laden… he looked overwhelmed. Like he had let everything in his life overtake him as he had drunk his sorrows away… all the guilt and sadness. His face was worn out… washed up… and it was all her fault.

All of this was all her fault… her fault for pulling out that stupid book and asking Alex to help her decode it, her fault for getting too far over her head and having no way out of all the trouble but to fake the death of a friend. Everything was her fault… She hadn't allowed herself to be happy with what she had, to be happy to have a place on earth… Sometimes she wished that she hadn't come to Roswell at all. Maybe Liz and Maria were right to hate her. She caused nothing but trouble and destruction in her wake. Maybe she should just disappear and never return again.

Tess sent him a bittersweet smile, “Okay.” She whispered softly, sweetly, and sat gently on the couch cushion closet to him. He passed out about an hour later, his big, warm hand going limp in her small one. She continued to hold his hand, letting all the sorrow, the guilt and worry take over her as an uneasy, but much needed sleep finally caught up with her too.

She was still holding his hand when she woke up a few hours later.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Isabel glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard of her mother’s car—it read 2:30 PM. She had been sitting in her parked car for about two hours. She sighed, slumping deeper into the driver’s seat, feeling even more emotionally exhausted and drained than she’d been all week… She hadn't even been this emotionally wrecked at Alex’s funeral. It was unnerving her, causing a deep pain in the center of her chest.

She still didn't even know why she had allowed herself to be talked into this… into meeting the Whitmans. Actually, she hadn't agreed to this meeting at all. Her mother had picked up the phone and agreed to the set-up before Isabel had even known what was happening and could voice her protests.

“Mom… I can’t even go. Max has the car.” Isabel whined weakly, running her hands through her bed hair. She silently cursed herself. It was a weak excuse that her mother would see right through. She might as well have said that she would be late for school on a Sunday.

“You can take my car, dear.” Her mother offered, sending her daughter a pointed look that said ‘I’m not taking any of your bullshit today, Isabel Amanda Evans!!! You’re going and that’s the end of it!!’

“I’m not working today.” Her mother said instead, laying a big plate of biscuits and gravy with a giant dash of Tabasco on top in front of her. “Now, eat fast and then go take a shower. They’re expecting you at twelve.”

Isabel laid her head against the steering wheel, trying to stifle her urge to scream her head off. Why couldn't people just leave her alone? It was bad enough that she had to be polite to the people who walked up to her at school or on the street wanting to offer their condolences, but did she have to deal with the Whitmans in their sorrow too?

With all the other people, she could just pretend to be okay or stick her nose in the air and forge indifference at the subject but… these were Alex’s parents. They were people that she hadn't even met when he had been alive because she was so concerned about making a good first impression and just because he was dead now didn't mean that fear had gone away… In fact, it mattered even more now. She was the girl that their son had been in love with for so many years… the girl that he wanted to marry, to give them grandchildren with… to live with for the rest of his life.

It made sense that they would want to meet her, especially now that she was one of the few links left to their son… but that didn't change the fact that she didn't know if she could handle being in a place that had Alex’s life force imprinted all over it. She could hardly handle being in her own house, her own room, or even at school for that very same reason.

She constantly expected for Alex to climb through her bedroom window, like he had the night after finding out that the Skins had invaded Roswell, to be sitting at her couch with a bowl full of popcorn and crappy girlie movies like back when she had been scared to fall asleep because she hadn't wanted to dream of being intimate with Michael when she could barely be intimate with the one man that she wanted to be close to… Hell, she still even expected to see Alex sitting at the desk a few rows across from her, smiling that goofy smile that she had grown to love that was always directed at her… a beautiful, if not awkward, smile that was reserved especially for just her. Even Maria had once said that in all the years she had known Alex, she had never seen him smile like that before.

She could barely deal with all those wishful thoughts cluttering, clouding up her mind on a daily basis… Did she need to have a place that was only all about Alex’s aura filling up her head as well? She yelled, slamming her fist down hard onto the steering wheel.

She didn't know how much more she could take. She wanted all of it to go away… all the pain and memories to fade into thin air in the back of her mind until she went back to never having met or thought about Alex at all. She wanted to go back to being the bitch that she used to be… She was too soft, too weak. She wanted to curse the day that Max had saved Liz’s life… the day where it really all began.

She continued to yell so loud that she feared that the whole neighborhood could hear her, but she continued to beat up her mother’s car so badly that she realized, with disconnected horror, that she might have broken her own hand. She was yelling so loudly that she didn't hear the shutter of a camera going off in the car across the street from her.

-/-/-/-/-/-

His partner held the picture closer to his face, smiling. It wasn't much of anything really… just a Polaroid of a beautiful young girl lingering in her car in front of a quaint little house. It could almost be seen as stalking– talking pictures of such a statuesque beauty– but it didn't matter to him whatever anyone thought.

They had broken ground by getting this small piece of evidence. They had discovered something valuable in the case by deciding to go there on a whim… He was suddenly glad that his partner had talked him into staking out the Whitman house, because they had found something that none of the other agents had.

“I guess we finally found out who that Isabel was that he had wrote about in all those diary entries,” The tall man said a moment later, breaking their victorious silence. “What are we going to do now?” he asked his partner, turning toward him with a curious smile. He was nervous. Just because they had found something valuable didn't mean that he knew what to do with it.

“There’s a law practice in town, isn't there?” CIA agent, Jesse Andrew Rivas asked. “Run by a Phil Evans, right?”

“Yeah,” Agent Connor Price said, raising his eyebrow before his eyes widened in shock. He grabbed the picture from his partner’s hand. “This can’t be the Isabel Evans that Liz Parker is always seen hanging around with, can it? It can’t be this easy,” Conner said, realization dawning on him. It was right in his face the entire time…

“Who else would be at the Whitman’s house besides someone he knew, who had known Liz,” Jesse said seriously, shrugging his shoulder. He didn't sound as shocked as Connor was… He probably already had made the connection long ago. Jesse was a good damn detective and had to be patient with Connor’s natural slowness. He seemed to know that didn't make Connor any less of a good agent or partner… He just needed a little guidance sometimes.

“Do you think that I would make a good lawyer?” Jesse’s rough Latino voice asked out of nowhere, making Connor very confused. A lawyer? What the hell did that have to do…?

“What does that have to do with anything?” Connor asked, a little pissed off. If Jesse was trying to jerk him around, make fun of him, he was going to punch him right in the balls.

“Because I always did want to be a lawyer,” Jesse answered wistfully, pulling out his disposable phone from his back pants pocket and dialing a number. The call was answered a few minutes later.

“Hello, this is Jesse Ramirez…” Jesse said, smiling wickedly at Connor. “I’m a lawyer and I wanted to inquire about a job at your law firm.”


TBC...
-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Part 15


Carolyn:

So we're in for a long, long dark ride here?

Yep... I'm actually surprising myself with how dark this story is getting This story is beginning to take on a life of it's own and head in a direction much more brilliant (In my opinion ) than I had originally planned.

Guess many of us would love to see Tess just disappear.......but then what would happen to Alex????

Tess isn't going anywhere. She's too important to the story line and much of her story is wrapped around Alex and Kyle... so... unfortunately , Tess is here to stay

Jesse on the scene.......now that will be interesting!

It will be! I also have a few plans for Conner as well!


Eve:

Tess... everything has been said about her but in this story, I don't know what to think about her...
and what she wants...

I don't think Tess even knows what she wants at this point. She knows what she has to do... but not what she wants to do. She hasn't figured that out quiet yet.


Natalie36:

soo many twist and turns

Good! I like to you that I'm keeping you on your toes!


Eva:

This is creepy and stays creepy. So many questions, so many loose ends, so many missing pieces...

More of those burning questions, loose ends, and missing pieces will be explored more in Act II of this story and as for the creep factor... I don't really plan to tone it down. It's just going to get creeper. I haven't yet figured out if that's a good thing or not

Like everyone Kyle and Isabel are still grieving, which is very normal considering everything that happened. But the FBI-agents don't fit in the picture and they worry me, more than I can say.

Isabel, Kyle, and everybody that is being affected by Tess and Alex's lie will be grieving for a very long time... even when they discover that Alex is alive they will still grieve... but more over what they once thought that Alex once was more than anything.

Your right to be cautious of Jesse and Conner... There up to no good and will be causing trouble for our beloved characters but I wouldn't be too worried about them... There the good guys compared to who else is hunting the group



A/N: Well... I'm back posting a new chapter and I have to say that this might be my last chapter for awhile. I was able to get lucky once again and borrow a friend of mine's labtop that he uses for school but I feel my luck might begin to run out.

So, I'm just going to be glad that I was able to post a new chapter a day before my birthday! So, here's my birthday present... to you guys I guess It's no big deal. I was just happy to get out the creative juices for this story that have been stuck in my head for the past couple of weeks. Anyway, here's chapter 15 and I hope you guys enjoy it! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

The song of the week is: 'Kinetic by Radiohead' play when you see this

The passage in all italics is a flashback sequence.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-


It was raining heavily. He was drenched in it from head to toe. He shook his head, feeling a crippling sense of déjà vu. It was like his last night in Roswell all over again…The roads were slicked with rain drops and mud… and blood. His hands were covered in so much blood; he was almost swimming in it. He felt like vomiting. He could still hear the gunshot ringing in his head as he clenched the gun tighter to him. He looked at his hands again before turning back to the two bodies lying in from of him; one was mangled, his once lean limbs looking like a half-full roll tube of toothpaste. His automatic lay not far from him, broken in half… He had almost died picking it up, thinking that it still worked. The first body had been hit by a car… by his car… before it had stalled and he had been forced to climb out and face man number two.

He looked behind him and stared. Man number two wasn't as mangled as the other, his arms and legs looked as bulky as they had when he had first spotted the two men parked next to the ‘Welcome to the Kansas state line’ sign hanging from a old wooden post at the state line. His mind had immediately filled with panic. He was being ambushed… They had found him, but he didn't know how. He had been careful. He was always changing routes and cars in almost each state or city that he passed through… he never lingered in any state for too long and, if he had to, he would hitchhike into the next town if he couldn't find a decent car or bike to steal. But it had all been for nothing if they had found him. ‘If',he thought, disgusted. There was no‘if’. They’d found him and they were there to kill him.


He couldn't remember much of what had happened next except slamming his foot onto the gas pedal and their matching expressions of surprise. He could vaguely remember how the car had bounced as it rolled over the body of the first man and his shriek of pain and surprise being cut off by the end. He remembered fruitlessly trying to turn the key over and over again, only to get a loud cranking noise in return, before there was nothing at all but the loud and angry footstep of man number two. He hadn't thought as he pushed the slightly dented door open and began crawling to man number one, hoping that the man had had a gun or a knife or something on him. He could vaguely remember hearing a shotgun blast only inches away from his head before he finally abandoned the dead and mangled body of man number one and remembered that there was an unregistered gun hidden away in the glove compartment of the car he had stolen back in Oregon.

He fumbled with the door handle as he heard another gun blast a few inches from his right hip, but he wasn't so lucky this time around and the bullet painfully grazed him. He howled in pain, holding his bleeding side, as his new found pain and adrenalin boosted him. He yanked the door almost clean off its metal hinges in his haste to open it and climb back inside the car as the footsteps grew louder. He found it hard to maneuver in the small space of the car, especially since he didn't have both of his hands to snake him along, but he was finally reached the glove compartment on the passenger side and, with his bloody, shaking hands, he popped it open and grabbed the gun.

He slowly and carefully pulled open the chamber that contained the bullets… he found that only one was locked snugly in there. He cursed, violently and loudly. He couldn't make any mistakes… he only had one shot.

“Come out here, you fucking coward!” Man number two yelled loudly, startling him. “Let me shoot you like a man!” He snapped the bullet chamber back in place and pointed in the direction of the stomping footsteps and the half-hanging door. He felt his eyes snapping shut, his face scrunching together in fear. He willed—no, yelled at himself— to open his eyes, but he couldn't. It was like his own involuntary defense system… if he didn't see it… then maybe it wasn't real.

He didn't remember much after that… another way of protecting himself, he guessed. He remembered hearing a few more gunshots being fired. When he settled down a few hours later in a dingy motel room, he’ll realize that he was hit twice in the leg and once in the arm before his only bullet in the crossfire found its target and the guy dropped with a loud, bloody smack onto the heavily slicked pavement of the back highway. His eyes had closed tighter, to the point of pain, as he willed the man to die.

Instead the cold voice that still haunted him spoke in a rough German accent, loudly crackling over the heavy rain drops, “They’re going to kill you, my friend.” He said it proudly… manically. His hand scratched against the watery pavement, his breath coming out in jagged and hollow gasps. “And when they do… you’re going to wish that you had allowed me to put a bullet through your idiot skull.” The man laughed wetly then, the blood coming out of his mouth in streams, pooling around his lips. He realized that he was choking on his own blood. In his last moments, he added, “They won’t show you or your friends any mercy,” He gasped, smiling cruelly. “Run home and protect your little alien friends while you still can.” He croaked, laughing until the air and life finally left his body….

Alex’s lean and newly damaged body bolted upward in his makeshift pile of soft pillows and blankets that he had made on the floor of Frank’s small town house, sweat dripped down his face onto his panting lips, the afternoon sun blinding his watering, sensitive eyes. The once comforting blankets began to wrap fully around him, making him feel small and suffocated… and in that moment, he concluded that the man was right. Maybe it would have been an act of mercy if he had just died on that rain slicked highway just two weeks ago.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Groaning, Kyle woke up with a massive hangover and the afternoon sun blazing right into his bloodshot eyes... but most importantly of all, he woke up alone. No one was holding his hand anymore and the couch next to him was empty of Tess’ presence. He felt like swearing, profusely and loudly, but he settled instead for rubbing the sleep out of his pissed off face.

He didn't know why he was so angry about waking up alone… he just was. It felt like a moment, a truce… a connection had been broken by Tess’ abandonment. He had felt that they had an understanding of each other that he thought had been lost between them forever when Alex died… It felt like a part of Tess that he thought had died along with Alex had been rediscovered, unwrapped just for him, as she had held his hand, whispering sweetly and soothingly as his mind had become blank in his drunkenness.

He didn't know how to explain it… but it felt like he wasn't so broken and alone anymore. It felt like love, in its simplest and pure form that he could understand and wrap his mind around. He had truly and unconditionally loved her in that moment and he had wanted nothing from her in return but her warmth… and waking up alone had somehow altered that. It felt less real… like a drunken haze of illusion or a dream that he would never be able to really remember right again. Maybe it was the jolt he had gotten from the human contact, maybe it had been the sound of another voice in his head besides his own thoughts, or maybe it had been that his guard lowered by the booze had made him more open to the warmth and love that she had been offering, but whichever one it was or a combination of it, he felt the loss of it greatly.

It was like a slow, burning ache in his chest right over his heart that caused his eyes to become misty with misery and pain… and he hated Tess for making him feel this way. He wanted to hate himself for allowing it to bloom and grow there in the first place and, as the last of the booze and sleep left his body, as the sun poured soft colors of yellow, pink, and orange into the small living room, he found himself wishing that he hadn't finished the last of the Jack Daniels before passing out.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Max flung the patio door of his parent’s house open, closing it lightly behind him with a click. He took off his dust crusted dress boots and left both of them by the patio door neatly side by side—the way his mother liked them. He didn't want to disturb anyone who was home by clunking around the kitchen and leaving desert dirt everywhere.

He peeled off his suit jacket and hung it loosely on the back of one of kitchen chairs, tossing his car keys into the big green glass bowl that his mother left on the kitchen counter solely for the purpose of minimizing the amount of lost keys around the house.

He sighed and unbuttoned the cuffs of his white long-sleeved shirt; he walked over to the fridge and opened it. He was hungry and unbelievably tired. He had never known that he could be so mentally and physically exhausted in his entire life. It felt like the life had been sucked right out of him and thrown into space somewhere… like he was seconds away from dropping dead. He just wanted to eat something quickly and go to bed.

“So, you’re home now?” his dad’s rough voice shot through the air, startling him.

Max jumped and slammed the refrigerator door, holding his chest. “Dad…” he breathed, a little annoyed. “You scared me.”

“I was hoping I did,” His father said, giving him a hard stare. “Where have you been?” he asked, his hard voice barely able to contain his anger and disappointment.

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired for this bullshit and he already felt ashamed enough. “I was around,” Max replied vaguely, hoping that was enough. If he had to, he would lie and say that he had slept at Michael’s place and had forgotten to call, but he was hoping that he wouldn't have to. He hated lying to his parents.

His father’s right eyebrow arched. “Wrong answer,” he said coldly. Max could feel the disappointment radiating off him and it made him want to vomit. “You wanna try again?”

Max shook his head.

“Max,” His father began gruffly. “Your mother was up half the night worried sick about you and your sister…”

Max rolled his eyes, tuning him out. He didn't need a lecture right now. He had gotten the message already. He was a terrible son… he was a terrible human being. He needed to do better. He needed to be better… and he didn't need his father telling him that too. Weren't a bruised face, ego, and the constant, unnerving feeling of wanting to dig a hole and bury himself in it punishment enough?

“Why don’t you save the ‘I’m-so-disappointed- in-my-son’ talk for some other day, huh, Dad?” Max cut in, hotly. He ignored his dad’s indignant expression and reopened the refrigerator door only for it to slam close again, bruising his finger tips. Max hissed in pain and turned to his father with barely contained rage. Max felt his body tense, his senses heightened. He felt like a caged animal, he was ready to fight… he was about to fight his own father.

Max could see that his father’s face was red with anger; his body was almost shaking with it. “If you ever talk to me like that again,” he paused, huffing. “I will deck you, do you understand?” His father finished, his threat echoing in the large kitchen.

Everything turned up about ten notches, the silence and rage lingering between them suddenly seemed so loud, deafening. The kitchen suddenly felt small, like the walls were closing in on him, ready to cave him in on his own guilt and rage. He began to hyperventilate as wild smells began to fill his nose, trying to cloud his mind. He could feel the vibrations bouncing off the walls and crashing into him. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight.

“Whatever,” Max grunted out. He backed away from his father’s crumbling face, the guilt beginning to show in his wrinkles. He wanted to tell him that it was okay, that it was his fault… but he couldn't. He just couldn't handle it… He wanted to run. He needed to go somewhere and clear his head. He had almost punched his own father. What was happening to him? What was happening?!? He didn't even recognize himself anymore. He couldn't even tell who the frightened, angry teenage boy was that he briefly caught in the reflection of his father’s sad eyes.

He needed to go. He had to. “I’m gonna go,” He said suddenly, breaking the growing guilt that was stamped across his father’s face. He violently fished the keys out of the green bowl and grabbed his jacket off the chair in a rush. “I’ll be back.” He pulled his jacket on with a violent jerk.

“Max! Max… come back!” He could hear his father yelling as he yanked the patio door open and ran out. His father’s voice was hazy to his ears, a million miles away. He wanted to turn around, apologize, and be the adult that he knew could be… but he couldn't. He wanted to be a little kid, running away from his problems. He wanted to punch things and brood in peace. He wanted to be reasonable… He wanted a lot of things that he couldn't have or hope to accomplish.

He slammed the door to his jeep and revved out of the driveway with the buzzing of his father yelling his name over and over again ringing in his ears. It wasn't until he was a mile away from his home that he realized he had forgotten to put his shoes back on.

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Michael felt his vision beginning to blur; the words that he was reading began to wave in and out. He felt his eyes water with forced concentration, his head pleading with him to stop and take a break, but he pushed on and continued to scan the Crashdown menu again.

It was unnecessary punishment, of course. He knew the Crashdown menu by heart now especially since he spent the better part of two years cooking almost everything on the goddamn menu but he couldn't will himself to stop. He feared that if he did stop and put down the menu that Maria would have an excuse to finally kick him out.

The bell above the glass doors of the Crashdown dinged, signaling new customers. They were an elderly couple who were regulars. They were so old, in fact, that they had been residents of Roswell during the summer of the crash… the summer that he had landed on earth… and Maria absolutely adored them.

He could already feel himself rolling his eyes fondly. He could hear her gushing over them in his head—Oh, how cute! Look, Michael, they’re holding hands! Or Freddie calls Cassie ‘Dumpling’… Hey, Michael… how come we don’t have cute pet names for each other?—He actually shook his head in exasperation at the memory. There had been an agonizingly, embarrassingly long month where she had called him Baby-doll or Sweetie pie instead of the begrudgingly approved Space boy whenever she could… She had only stopped doing so when he had complained so loudly that a few of the customers visiting the Crashdown that day had given him weird, disapproving looks, openly pitying her. They had gone so far as to give her bigger tips. Maria had complained for a week straight about it, grumbling about not wanting anyone’s pity money. She had given Liz most of her tips that night.

Michael peeked over the edges of the menu and saw that Maria didn't give the smiley couple her usual wit, nor did she gush over them. Instead she did something that shocked him… she gave the couple over to Agnes and apologized profusely, saying she would not have been good company and that they deserved the best service a waitress could offer.

He raised an eyebrow, stunned. It wasn't like Maria to just run away from something because it was too hard… She hadn’t run away when Pierce was out to get them, even though he had spent the two days that Max had been kidnapped and the better part of their Junior year pushing her away and giving her the cold shoulder. She had been stubborn and had refused to leave… She had stayed and faced the danger her life had become head on.

So what had changed? Why was she running now… especially when she needed him the most? He just couldn't understand, it stumped him, vexed him. It just wasn't in her nature to turn away when someone needed her the most… and despite all of his reservations, he did need her… but she was running, avoiding his calls and ignoring his presence at the booth where he had been sitting for the last hour. She was running away from that couple’s happiness… and she was running away from theirs. It was starting to piss him off.

He was so deep in thought that he hadn't realized that he had been staring until Maria snatched the menu out of his hands, dropping it onto the marbled tabletop with a plop. She was glaring at him… and he decided to glare back.

“That’s a real interesting way to treat a paying customer… Maybe I should call Jeff over here and complain?” He asked bitterly, not realizing just how mad he was at her. He guessed he was able to keep his simmering anger in check from a distance but up close, with Maria only inches away from him… being able to smell her invigorating body wash and jasmine flowing off her hair in intoxicating wave, knowing he wasn't able to get close to her and touch her… to take it all in and not be able to put his hands in her hair and kiss her silly was sending the hormones that were normally reserved for his libido right to his head.

She snorted, still scowling. “You've been sitting there for the past hour and half… you haven’t bought anything and you’re not scheduled to work today,” she spat, venom lacing her every word. “So are you going to order anything or just take up valuable space?” Maria asked, her arms folded over her chest. He narrowed his eyes, fuming.

“Did you take your bitch pill today, Maria?” He retorted slowly, playing with the edges of her apron. “We all know that human beings can’t stand to be around you when you don’t,” he finished angrily.

Both of them struggled to resist the urge to flip the other off. Maria looked like she was getting ready to slap him across the face and, for a minute, he thought she really would.

“Michael,” she sighed instead, sounding deflated. Everything in her body just slumped down, all the fight leaving her body, and she looked as though she was on the verge of tears. He felt like punching himself in the face for being a dick and had to resist the urge to get up and hug her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, dejected. He sighed, continuing to play with the fabric of her uniform, avoiding her questioning stare. He didn't know why he was there. He knew that she didn't want him around and, quite frankly, he didn't want to be around her…

The rage that he suddenly felt toward her was suffocating and he hated hating her. He felt like he was placing the blame on her when it was really his fault. He should have been a better boyfriend; he should have stayed at Alex’s and comforted her instead of taking the easy exit. Lord sure knew that she never did… but he hadn't been able to stop himself from leaving that day any more than he could have avoided going to the Crashdown. He hadn't even realized that he had been heading there until he was right outside the door.

He shrugged his shoulders, his fingers becoming bolder as they latched on the outline of her hip. He swirled his thumb in a pattern on her hip bone, drinking in the warmth of her fabric… of her. “I thought maybe you had gotten some sleep and were thinking clearly… that you would come running into my arms and apologize to me for breaking up with me,” he quipped, unable to stop himself.

“I’m not,” she said so plainly that it made him flinch and his thumb stalled before making circles again. “I meant what I said,” she said more softly, pulling his hand away from her uniform and she held it... for the briefest of moments… and he returned the hold tightly… before she slowly lowered it back onto the booth’s tabletop.

“I know you did,” he whispered, a sad smile crossing his lips. “You never say anything that you don’t mean.” And for the first time in all the time he had known her, he wished that he was wrong… that she didn’t mean what she had said. He wished that his off-hand joke would be the reality and they would go home, holding each other until the sun set and she would have to head home… But he could tell by the hard determination shining in her eyes that this was going to be their reality… that they were really over.

“Do you want me to walk you home after your shift?” he asked a moment later. He could hear the desperate hope in his voice; he wanted to curse himself for it.

She shook her head. “No,” she replied shyly, a tear falling down her cheek. “I’m okay.” She paused, letting more tears stream down her face. “I’m gonna be okay, Michael… Go home.” Her tone left no room for argument. Her delicate voice had spoken so firmly and unyieldingly that he felt like a beautifully bound book was closing on the last page of their hard earned story and he was helpless to stop it… He was powerless against the power of her voice and all he could think to do was to heed her advice and make the slow, painful trek back home without her.


TBC....

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P.S,

For anyone who doesn't already know, I made another trailer for this story and it's a bit more detailed.

Here's the link

Part 16


Eve:

Thanks for the dark part! Not only the story is dark, but outside too! At least, in Europe...

If only Max would talk to his dad, instead of renning away...

Sorry about that... Didn't mean to make that day dark for you and your right, Max should have stayed and talked with his father but he's not thinking like that right now. He's too emotional.

Carolyn:

have you taken your bitch pill today............I LOVE THAT!
Great trailer, thanks for it.

I loved writing that part as much as you loved reading it and I'm glad you like the trailer. I love it much more than the original.


A/N:Finally! It's here! A new chapter of 'You and Whose Army'!

I'm sorry that it took so long you guys but me and my beta have been a hell of busy. My mom recently had major surgery done to remove her ulcer and I had to help take care of her and drive her back and forth to the doctors. There was even a brief period where she had an infection in her incision and she had to be on antibiotics... and then my beta got sick and she had only recent begun to feel better enough to review my new chapter.


Anyway, I hope that this chapter is worth the wait... though I have a feeling that every dreamer out there is kinda wanna kill me after the end of this chapter

The Song of the week is:'Easy By Son Lux' play when you see


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“Can I get you any lemonade, sweetheart?”

Isabel shook her head, rubbing her hands.

“No… that’s okay,” she said, shaking. She could feel her hands throbbing painfully, almost in time with her rapidly beating heart. She was going to have to clean up her mother’s car, she thought with detached sense of rationalism. She almost sighed aloud. She hated herself for the beating that she had inflicted on her mother’s car…

“I’m not thirsty.” She lied. Her mouth was actually extremely dry from all the yelling she had done in her mother’s car before she had decided to finally ring the doorbell to the Whitman’s… but she didn't think that she could even hold a glass without her hands shaking even worse than they already were … Plus, she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of Alex’s mom.

Mrs. Whitman just nodded her head in response.

Isabel closed her eyes, trying to fight the urge to run to the bathroom and vomit. She had long ago passed the hyperventilating stage of her breakdown and was having a full on panic attack. She was scared… She still felt like screaming her fucking head off and the sheer force of will not to look like a maniac in front of Alex’s mom was the only thing keeping her sane…. Trying to stay sane was starting to wear her down, day by day…. She was beginning to lose herself in her own insanity until there would be nothing left but the person she used to be… and the person that she could have been.

“Are you moving?” she asked, looking at the half packed boxes in the far corner of the Whitman’s’ pristine living room. She admired that… the oddly clean living space. It made her able to breathe easier. She’d rather breathe in the faint smell of Windex intermixed with furniture polish than Alex.

Mrs. Whitman sent her a small smile at her question.

“We think its best,” she replied softly. “It’s just… everywhere we go, Alex…” she trailed off, her voice breaking.

Isabel sighed… She didn't need her to finish. Isabel knew exactly what she meant. She couldn't seem to escape Alex’s presence either.

“Where you going?” Isabel felt like rolling her eyes. She was making small talk… She hated it when other people made small talk and now she was doing it too. She would have slapped herself if she thought she could get away with it.

But Mrs. Whitman didn't seem annoyed by her awkward attempts at trying to keep their meeting sociable… She actually seemed happy that Isabel wanted to talk about Alex even less than she did. Isabel could tell that Alex’s mom was a lot like her… They both wanted to pretend for as long as they could.

“Charlie got a job to work on software programs for some big company in Texas,” Mrs. Whitman said loftily. There was a hint of wifely pride in her voice… or was it relief? “We’re leaving next week.” She finished, a sober tone to her voice.

Then she added, “There are some things in Alex’s room that we haven’t packed up yet… You can go up there, if you want…” Mrs. Whitman’s voice was starting to break apart, but she went on. “I’m sure… there’s something up there that’s important to you that I might have missed.”

Isabel nodded her head. She didn’t know what there was to say … She didn’t know what to do. She was speechless due to the large, growing lump in her throat. She wanted to say a million things... She could feel the words forming in her head, ready to escape her mouth. Isabel wanted to thank Mrs. Whitman for every day that she got to spend with her amazing son. She wanted to cry on his mother’s shoulder and babble incoherently until the pain engulfing her heart went away … She wanted to be angry—to yell and scream that it was all her fault… that she should have taken better care of him. She wanted to curse her for the day she ever gave birth to Alex Charles Whitman…

But she said none of these things because she couldn’t. Because every time she felt she was close to saying something… whether something meaningful or something hateful… the words would die in her mouth and clump up, forming a ball in the pit of her stomach. One day it might explode… but not today; today she couldn’t say anything. All she could do was breathe, smile politely, and walk down the hall to Alex’s room.

“Isabel?” Mrs. Whitman said softly, giving her a bittersweet look. “Alex came to me the night of the prom and asked me something.” Isabel raised her eyebrow. “He asked me how I would feel about having you as my daughter-in-law. Do you know what I said?”

Isabel shook her head.

“I told him that I would like that very much.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Did you sleep well, boy?”

Alex nodded his head and continued to eat his cereal. He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Frank nodded and dropped into the seat next to him, the smell of a steaming batch of coffee wafting up in the air and filling his nostrils. Alex sighed as Frank pushed the pot closer and tapped the cover… his way of asking if he wanted any. Alex shook his head and went back to eating.

“Do you want to take a ride with me?” Frank asked after a few moments of silence had passed between them. Alex was on his second bowl of cocoa puffs and Frank was on his third cup of coffee when he had asked. “I have to go into the next town and pick up some supplies for the store and I don’t like to do it alone.” Frank sipped his coffee, waiting for Alex’s answer.

“Sure… Why not?” Alex said softly, rubbing his forehead with hand he had his spoon in. “Nothing better to do.”

“Great.” Frank replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

Alex just nodded his head and went back to chewing the last of his cereal.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-



Tess had been driving in a state of total disarray ever since she had woken up earlier that morning, never stopping to look where she was going or resting when her vision began to blur. She could have left Roswell long ago for all she knew; she didn’t care. She just pushed her foot further onto the gas pedal of Kyle’s car and drove and drove.

She didn’t know what else to do with herself; she felt utterly useless. She was lost and alone and waking up with Kyle’s hand in her own had only worsened the feeling of total solitude. She couldn’t feel the warmth of his hand as it had engulfed her or hear the rat-tat-tat of his beating heart as she always had… And in that moment she realized that she couldn’t feel anything… and that she didn’t want to listen anymore. She was numb to her very core… and disposable. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized just how interchangeable she really was. She wasn’t wanted or needed and she wasn’t strong enough to make herself be either of those things. She couldn’t save anybody… not even herself. Not anymore. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that she ever could.

Tess felt herself begin to hyperventilate, all of her sins weighing down upon her until she felt like she was going to pass out at the wheel. How had everything gotten to this point?! She heard herself screaming desperately in her mind. To the point where she couldn't even stand herself anymore?

She slowed down, parking the car over on the side of the road. She needed to breathe and calm down. Now wasn’t the time to break apart… not when there was work that needed to be done. Alex was relying on her to get the job done.

She swallowed a sigh and cut the engine when she saw Max leaning against his jeep right outside of the entrance of the planetarium... exactly where he had said he would be waiting for her.

Sighing audibly, she opened the door with a rough push and jumped out of the car. Before she could even close the door behind her, Max had snuck up behind her, spinning her around, and then kissing her deeply and passionately.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Max rubbed the edge of key chain that was still dangling from his right hand that had cupped Tess’ face. Its smooth surface calmed his rapidly beating heart. It calmed the voice that screamed in his head that he was making a mistake… that there was still time to walk away… but he ignored it as he told himself to calm down and breathe. That it was just Tess… Tess… the girl who had been there for him ever since all of the crazy bullshit had happened… who made him feel less guilty about not being able to save Alex. She made him feel nothing. She didn’t even make him feel like himself, which was a welcome distraction that he readily took advantage of.

He pushed her against the driver side door and it slammed shut under their combined weight as he continued to kiss her harshly. He kissed her with all burning rage and stifling sadness that seemed to constantly invade his heart… and the soul crushing loneliness he had been shoving into the deepest and darkest part of his being ever since he heard the Sheriff say that Alex was dead. He didn’t hold anything back and neither did Tess.

She responded to his assault with equal brutality, biting and marking him like it was her right. And he let her… because it felt good to pretend for awhile. It felt good to be needed… wanted… even if it was for their own selfish reasons. Max knew that their session was not personal… he thought that any guy could have been there, making Tess feel better, but it wasn’t… It was him and that made him feel important that he was being of use to somebody.

He deepened the kiss, their teeth knocking together with so much force that he wouldn’t be surprised if they had a few clipped teeth here and there. She moaned against his mouth, loudly and wantonly. Her sounds of passion and encouragement made Max feel powerful and bold as he slowly inched his fingers closer to unzip Tess’ jeans buttons and find their way under the edge of her panties. He began to receive flashes from Tess when his fingers got closer to her folds… and all of them were of him… and it brought him comfort and chased any further doubts away. Being intimate with her was certainly an experience he had not been prepared for… He had no barriers to put up against the mad rush of lust and need that she made him feel… But she wasn’t Liz.

Max felt Tess’ hand on the edges of his dress pants; he felt her hand slide down his zipper with a hard jerk and in that moment he knew where they were going. He was going to lose his virginity to Tess and he couldn’t help but think that Liz should be there instead of Tess… that everything they were about to do was wrong. Something he was going to regret.

He shook his head and grunted, pushing the thought away. Liz had no place there between the two of them… not when they were like this, hot all over and aching for something that the other was desperate to give and even more desperate to receive… Liz couldn’t fit there in his mind as Tess made him feel like the most wanted person alive.

As Tess began to stroke him violently, making him breathe heavily and see stars dance across his tightly shut eyes, Liz still invaded his mind. She was there the entire time they made love… if he was bold enough to even call it that. He was aware of her smile, her laugh, and the way she always played with her hair when something stumped her. She was there through it all and he knew that Tess knew it too… Even after Tess came so hard that she spilled him over the edge too, and even when they broke apart, lying so far away from each other that the other seemed like they were million miles away instead of five feet, he still couldn’t help but think that Tess had never been more beautiful than she had been in that moment.

TBC....

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Author is ready to update.

Hey! I still come and see ob a new part is there... So waiting for one and thanks! EVE

Me too.