Roswell Fanatics

Part 6

Carolyn:

Are there really people like Hank out there in the world? That is so sad and leaves you with a feeling of helplessness.

Yes. I can tell you from experience that people like Hank really do exist... and yes, it leaves me feeling just as helpless and saddened as you

That is amazing how Isabel is protecting her younger sister. Love Max's paradise box......what a wonderful idea.

Isabel will always protect her sister from what she can, but we'll learn next chapter that Isabel can't protect Liz from learning everything about their parents... and Max' giving away his paradise box, his only friend, is something amazing that he would do


April:

I like this dynamic between Michael, Alex, and Tess. It's so unusual to see the three of them depicted as having any sort of relationship in a fic, so that's very cool and makes your story unique.

Thanks! I actively went out of my way to mix together characters that we didn't get to see interact much in the show, or in Max and Maria's case, characters that bonds or relationships could have been explored and developed way more than they were.

That last line makes me feel like Alex has just gotten so used to this kind of life, like he's forcing himself to settle for this. Yeah, maybe things could always be worse, but his life is pretty damn bad already.

Yeah, Alex's life could be so much better... but when you're twelve-years-old and you're experiencing something this hard and traumatic... you get use to believing that this is your only reality.... and that there's nothing more out there for you.

Kids tend to live in the moment, and at the moment, Alex's life is pretty shitty... and sadly, that's all he knows

I can't wait to see him and the rest of these people rise up from the ashes and find something better out there.

And they will... after going through so many trails and tribulations


Roswelllostcause:

The life Michael, Alex and Tess live is so sad. Someone really needs to help them!

Somebody will... but not for awhile, and by then, they'll be grown up and the damage will be already done


Eve:

It shouldn't be permit, from some people to take care of children...

You're right! It shouldn't be... but sadly, people do


A/N: Sorry, it took so long guys. But my beta kind of determines when I get to post these chapters. I finished this chapter like a week after I posed chapter five, but she only now sent me the revisions... nearly three months later.

But sadly, I can't give her up. She's not only become too good of a friend of mine, but i really do need a beta. So, i have to deal Anyway, here's chapter six. Oh, and by the way, you all will be finally meeting Kyle Valenti in the next chapter... and getting a moment in the head of Liz Parker as well, if any of you care

The song of the week is: Come As You Are by Civil Twilight play when you see


-6-



“Max,” Maria sighed audibly when Max, once again, tossed onto his other side and tried to get comfortable enough to go to sleep for the fifth time in eight minutes. “Go. To. Sleep,” she said through clenched teeth. The tossing and turning in her bed was getting on her ever last freaking nerve, especially since she knew why he was doing it. He was still worried about her. She had to temper the urge to excessively roll her eyes.

She wanted to scream at him for being such a nosy worrier. She was fine. She didn't need his concern. It had only been a bad dream. It was done and over with… she was going to live. She had dreamed about her mother before tonight; she had dreamed about the incident ever since it had happened. It wasn't the first time she had dreamed about it in the past few weeks since her mother had died, nor would it be the last time she dreamed about what had happened, she supposed… but it was fine. She didn't need him worrying about her! She didn't want his pity!

She wanted to berate him for treating her like a weakling, a scared and damaged baby chick that needed his constant attention and concern. It wasn't warranted or wanted! But she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't truly be mad enough to tell him what was on her mind… Not to Max… because she wasn'tfine… and they both knew it. But just because it was the truth didn't mean she had to like it.

She was also extremely tired. Her nightmares always took a lot out of her emotionally. Max’s tossing and turning was preventing her from getting her much needed sleep, and if he did it for much longer, she was going to murder Max Evans and not feel an ounce of guilt for it. At least died, if he was dead, she could finally get some freaking sleep!

“Sorry,” he apologized softly, turning over again to face her. He tucked one of his hands’ underneath her pillow and threw the other arm over her middle as he flashed her a small and apologetic smile that was so sincere and heartwarming that Maria couldn't help but smile back just as genuinely. “I just keep—never mind,” he started, paused, and then sighed loudly before he said, “I’m really sorry for keeping you up… Get some sleep, huh…” he sighed, closing his eyes again as he tried to fall asleep.

She could tell that something was still troubling him though. No matter how hard he was trying to brush it off, his forehead was still scrunched in vague worry and consternation. His brows were furrowed in mild confusion, like he couldn't figure something out in his own head. She wasn't sure whether it was about her or not, but whatever it was, it really bothered him… and deeply.

“Thanks,” she said without thinking. She had started thinking about the scared expression on his face when he had crashed into her room and began to try and comfort her. Suddenly she realized that she hadn't thanked him for being there for her and that she probably should.

“Huh?” He opened his eyes, and peered at her, confused. She shrugged her shoulder at his intense scrutiny.

“Thanks,” she repeated louder, more confidently. “For… well, you know what for…” she finished.

He raised his eyebrow, still staring at her intently. “Yeah,” he said. “No problem… Anytime… I’ll be there anytime.” He whispered with so much emotion that she felt like tearing up and had to violently tell herself to suck it up. She wasn't a baby.

“Go to sleep, Maria…” he said sternly a few moments later, the deep swell of emotions still dripping from his tone. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She stared back at him for a few more minutes before she nodded and turned onto her left side, snuggling as close as she could get to his chest, his warmth. Finally she was able to take his advice and get some sleep.

*^*^*^*

Maria paused in front of the full-length mirror in her room, her jaw dropping in surprised awe. Sunlight was streaming softly through the blinds of her bedroom, illumining the object of her fascination in soft streaks of pale yellow and baby blue. Max was sleeping soundly in the bed she had just vacated, his right arm still slightly curved underneath her pillow from when he had been holding her through her night terrors before she had awakened.

He had a dopey, strange look on his face instead of the troubled one he had worn earlier. There was a good amount of drool leaking from his mouth and sliding down his chin into his neck crevices, and it made Maria smile warmly at him. Looking around, she had found the brand new dress that had been hanging from the mahogany frame of her new mirror—a soft blue and yellow flowered pattern swirling perfectly across the silk material with gold sparkles aligning the hems of the dress. A bright pink sticky note was attached to the shoulder.

She plucked the note off gently, fearing that she might ruin the sensitive material if she yanked too hard. The note was written with precision and care… and she guessed that Hinckley must have taken the time to write it. The words flowed in quick strokes across the page, but it wasn't sloppy to the point that her nine-year-old brain couldn't understand the words that had been written. Her second guess that pointed toward Hinckley being the possible author of the hand-written note was that it was also polite and impersonal.

Courtesy of Master Phillip Evans, Miss Maria. The note began, and she swore that she could almost hear the butler’s smooth British voice vibrate and flow toward her, as if he were in the room with her, telling her this message personally. He asks that you wear this dress for your welcoming party tonight. Important family friends and relatives will be coming and he wants you to look your very best! Maria giggled a little when she saw the little smiley face that Hinckley had placed next to the sentence. He’s also requested your presence in his study after you get back from our drive around town for the day. - Hinckley

Well, she was right to suspect that it was, in fact, Hinckley, she frowned briefly before she nodded her head, crumbling the note with her fingertips and throwing the ball into the garbage pile next to her new dresser. She didn't like the fact that her uncle was already going out of his way to buy her new and expensive, beautiful things… It made her feel like he already had very high expectations of what the dress had reflected to her upon her first viewing of it hanging from her mirror—Dazzling and classy, as well as professional… and Maria simply wasn't any of those things.

It just wasn't who Maria was. She liked to get down and dirty. She was tough, and could roll with the punches of rude kids who thought it was their privilege in life to always pick on her for being the poor girl in school—the girl who was sometimes caught wearing the same dirty outfit two weeks in a row because her mother was too depressed to get out of bed and wash her clothes. She could also dish out the same treatment they collared her with, a sly smile on her youthful face and a snide retort on her lips to those very same kids… and to the few adults who thought they had a right to open their mouths about something they neither know nor understood.

Maria was street smart and rough around the edges, not because that was in her personality or core, but because she had to be to make it in such a judgmental and jaded world. It was an essential part of her survival… and she was a survivor and proud of it. She didn't want to wash those hard learned life lessons away from her soul because they were too inappropriate for her uncle’s upper crust sensibilities.

She didn't want to fit into that world, not if that was what she had to do… she couldn't and wouldn't sand those hard edges away from her being. She didn't have the kind of adaptability it took to change who she was and she didn't want to learn what it took to do it either… She also didn't want to disappoint her uncle.

He had been so nice to her when he didn't have to be. He had gone out of his way to take her in after her mother’s death, even though they had been estranged since their teen years, and had done his best to make her feel comfortable in his huge house.

She was also beginning to think that Max being the first one to greet her upon her arrival into a life so far out of her comfort zone hadn't been a coincidence. Max was high spirited, sweet, and welcoming where her uncle—and the new world she’d been unwilling thrust into—might not be. It was as though her uncle was sending her a subtle, but loud, wake-up call now though. It all began with this stylish, flamboyant new dress.

The dress symbolized that the time for comfort and consideration was long over, and it was time for her to become the young lady that she was expected to be around his high society lifestyle. She wasn'tto be like her mother, she felt the dress screamed, the message calling out to her. She was not to be outspoken… or free. Simply put, the dress said that she was not to be herself.

Max woke as she went back to staring at the dress before her, still listening to its phantom message that only she seemed to hear. He stood up slowly, following her line of sight as his brown eyes locked onto the dress with the same amount of awe that she guessed she had on her face earlier… before she had grasped what it meant. A moment later, he shot her a hard, grim look of sadness that rivaled that deep well of emotion that had been in his voice late last night. The look was intermixed with a strong sense of understanding that made Maria’s heart break a little more. He knew as well as she did what message the dress was supposed to send to her.

Maybe he understood because the expensive, tailored suit that was probably laid out at the foot of his bed when he got back to his room would say the same thing. Maybe he was trying to convey this to her with that look, or maybe he was trying to say that this was her life now. No amount of running, defying, or hiding from it was going to stop the world from spinning long enough to hear her pleas and listen to her… It wasn't going to change the fact that she was trapped, playing the role that her uncle wanted her to play…

She couldn't change a thing. Not if she didn't want to end up like her mother.


TBC...

*^*^*^*^*

Poor Maria! I don't know what is worse her nightmares or that her Uncle is going to be putting such high expectations on her.

I have to say that, sometimes, it is difficult to read your words! And I am waiting impatiently for the time when, being growing up, they will all be able to defend themselves...

Together is the force! No?

EVE

Can't help but feel sorry for Maria. This time in her life is so confusing.
She can't help but feeling uncomfortable about the things being presented to her by her Uncle.
Thanks,
Carolyn

Part 7


Roswelllostcause:

Poor Maria! I don't know what is worse her nightmares or that her Uncle is going to be putting such high expectations on her.

Both are pretty bad It's not fair for her uncle to be pushing these high expectations on her right now, so soon after her mother's passed, but he is... and he will continue to throughout the story... but he expects the same demands from Max too.


Eve:

I have to say that, sometimes, it is difficult to read your words!

I know I can't help it... I'm writing angst machine But don't worry, fun and nice times will be coming soon

And I am waiting impatiently for the time when, being growing up, they will all be able to defend themselves...

They may grow up and become able to defend themselves from the more physical abuse... but just because they're grown up doesn't mean that things are all well. They all still have a lot of issues and a long road to recovery to overcome them and begin to heal.


Carolyn:

Can't help but feel sorry for Maria. This time in her life is so confusing.

Yep. She's just lost her mother and she's a young, growing pre-teen... this whole period is confusing.

She can't help but feeling uncomfortable about the things being presented to her by her Uncle.

I think she feels more trapped by her uncle's goals for what he thinks that she shouldbe than uncomfortable by them. He's trying to make her feel indebted to him for taking her in, by saying that she must act this way... or she's out of his house.


A/N: Thanks for all the support and comments! Love you all and we all know I don't say that enough:D

Anyway, I'm almost through with the outline of the 'Kid' section to this story, I plan for it to take place through the course of a three day period and I've already begun posting about day two. I know where I plan to end this off, and jump ahead to the high school years... well, more like the middle to end of one high school year, everybody will be Seniors in my 'Five years Later' section of the story, except for Liz and Maria. They'll be Freshman.



-7-

Kyle yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched languidly and looked at his reflection in bathroom mirror lazily before he turned on the bathroom sink and splashed some cool water on his face. He began to get ready for the morning the same way that he always did this time of year, quickly and sloppily, going about his daily necessities as fast as he could muster the energy. He was happy to have the first real day of summer ahead of him, no having to get his butt out of bed at an unholy hour and get ready for school, or having to deal with the snobby, unhelpful, and overbearing teachers that presided over the classrooms at West Roswell Middle High. He could feel himself becoming giddy with the impending promise of the long, summer days that were awaiting him in his near future.

Two whole months spent riding his bike around town from the start of the hot Roswell afternoons to the warm and humid nights, fishing at the local pond with his dad at the crack of dawn as he watched the sun rise over the desert horizon, and playing baseball at the park diamond underneath the still blazing sun, sweat dripping down his cheeks as his best friend, Tess, shouted good-natured insults at his pitching abilities into the wind, without a single care in the world.

And he was even more excited, that in only a few short moments, he’d be able to see his best friend’s beautiful, smiling face again. He’d be able to be around her again, able to hear her soft but quick quips of humor, enjoy her booming laugh, and bask in her stunning smile. She was the best part of summer vacation… she was, simply, the best part of his life now… one of the only good things that had come out of his mother dying.

Tess had been his confidante during that horrible time in his life, back when his father had been getting shit faced almost every night of the week to ease the pain of having to watch his wife die a slow and painful death, and, on top of that, at having to deal with a practically mute son, who hadn’t said a single word since his mother died. The young girl had been the only one he talked to about his mother when he was talking about her at all.

She’d been a shoulder to cry on when it had all seemed like nothing would ever be the same or whole again without his Mom. Tess had been the soft whisper of reassurance in his ear when he feared that he would begin to forget her, when life began to move on. She had been there through thick and thin, making him feel that it was okay to move on… His Mom would always be important to him, Tess had told him one night when he was feeling low, and he would always love her. He shouldn’t feel bad for… well… living his life.

He guessed he loved her for being that person for him when he had needed it… he loved her a lot for that sacrifice. He also knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to say just that if he had been asked directly about his feeling for her, but he wasn’t exactly sure how deep that love went… It wasn’t something he fully understood. Did he love her like a friend? He cared for her like he cared for the stars in the sky—something he would always be watching out for until he died… But was there more to it? Something that had no name to it… something that was just simply a part of him?

He knew for certain that he loved her like he had loved his Mom, with his whole and entire heart, without a single reservation in his bones or one twinge of doubt. He guessed that was all there really was to it; he would figure out the rest later, when he was old enough to understand more about his feelings. But for now, there were more important things to think about, to worry over.

That unidentified, but invigorating, feeling that he always associated with being able to spend time with Tess renewed his excitement and interest in the day ahead. The anticipation of playing sports all day and night with his favorite person in the world, besides his father, was making him restless and he rocked on the balls of his feet on the tiles of the bathroom shower as he rinsed the shampoo from his chestnut hair.

He hummed softly, thinking of sports, long summer days, and how Tess Guerin’s wavy, blonde hair shone in the summer sun… and he smiled to himself.

How could his life get any better when he had those three things?

*^*^*^*

“Happy birthday, Lizzie…” A familiar voice whispered into her ear, and Liz couldn’t help the slow smile that crept across her face. She’d remembered.

Still smiling, Liz opened her eyes as her sister began to softly stroke her hair, the morning sunlight streaming lightly into the room, alighting the dark curls that cascaded down Isabel’s back. She looked beautiful…

“Happy Birthday, too, Isabel,” Liz giggled, opening up the covers up around her to let her big sister slide in next to her. Isabel scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she still took the invitation and got into the bed, pulling the blankets snuggly around them, burrowing in deeper next to Liz.

“My birthday isn’t until next week,” Isabel spoke a moment later. Her expression was bleak and her voice was grim enough to break through her sister’s joyous haze enough to make Liz look at her sister and sigh. It reminded her that not everybody loved birthdays like she did… Isabel said that same sentence every single time, every single year that it came close to being their birthdays; even though they were a few years apart, they had been born in the same month, a week apart… and Liz knew exactly why Isabel dreaded this time of year…. And it had to do with their Mom and Dad.

They never celebrate Isabel’s birthday. Heck, they barely acknowledged that she even existed on any other normal day, but for Isabel’s birthday… they always went that little extra mile to make Isabel’s life miserable. So her sister had begun to withdraw emotionally until she almost became a ghost for most of the week following Liz’s birthday. Liz wasn’t stupid… She knew that their parents detested her big sister… but she never had understood why.

“Close enough.” Liz shrugged, the wool blanket causing fraction against the pajama shirt. “Besides, if I don’t remind you now; you never remember it anyways.”

“That’s because I don’t have a reason to,” Isabel retorted. “We never celebrate my birthday in this house,” she snapped, running her fingers through her hair.

“They remember to celebrate mine…” Liz whispered, looking at the ceiling, trying not to fidget underneath the sheets. She didn’t really look forward for her birthday either. Liz Parker loved only one thing about her birthday… and it wasn’t the overbearing and suffocating love that her mother seemed to choose to only press upon her that day, or her father’s inexplicable lapse from her life… It was Isabel’s kindness that she loved the most. It was the only time that Liz could remember that Isabel actually loved her.

Lately, it felt like the only time that her sister would allow Liz to be this close to her. Liz was young, but not stupid… She knew her sister was beginning to pull away from her, keep her at a distance. She missed Isabel. She missed her every day, but she knew that things never stayed the same. People evolved and changed all the time; it was basic human biology, and with that change came the readjustments of human behavior. Things you had once cared about became nothing to you… and the things you once cared nothing for became your whole life, and that was happening to Isabel. She was growing up, she was changing… and Liz was being left to the wayside for the new things that mattered in her life.

Liz was still too young to try and catch up to remain relevant to Isabel, and she didn’t want to. She liked that she was the younger sister because Isabel was the best older sister anyone could ever ask for. She took good care of Liz, always protected her…

But Liz couldn’t shake the feeling that Isabel’s change had nothing to do with her simply getting older… It felt much bigger than that, like a big gap had begun between the two of them, a bridge waiting to be permanently burned… and Liz was scared, deeply scared of losing her sister; of losing herself in the haze of whatever was going on with Isabel and Liz couldn’t lose her sister. She needed her… but she was old enough now to know not to push the issue either… that Isabel needed time to come back to her… But that didn’t mean that Liz didn’t wish that she could have the relationship she had once had with her sister all the time… not only on one crappy day a year. And she wished that she had the strength to be what her sister needed her to be. Isabel needed her to be stronger, to push and be the big sister… but Liz just didn’t have it in her. She was only nine years old. She had only the vaguest notion what it meant to be someone else’s savior and no means to do anything with her awareness… except to love her sister with all her heart.

Isabel sighed, playing with the ends of her side of the blanket. “That’s different.” She looked at her sister as she said, “You’re the one they wanted…”

“It’s still not fair…” Liz fumed… at not just the injustice in the way their parents treated Isabel, but because Liz couldn’t be the one to save her from the truth. Liz was the one they wanted, and they both knew it well enough.

“I guess that’s why I remember to wish you a Happy Birthday,” Liz whispered, taking her sister’s hand. She felt like crying. When did life become so unfair? When did it become so complicated that a nine-year-old girl truly knew what the real definition of pain and suffering was? “I really do wish your birthday would be a happy day too, Isabel…” she added, unshed tear welling in her eyes.

“Okay…” Isabel smiled weakly, her voice watery from her own unshed tears. “Fair enough, little sister…” she gripped Liz’s hand tighter.

“You’re not going to stay much longer, are you?” Liz asked, already knowing the answer. It was a rule that Isabel and Liz had made when they were younger; Isabel always disappeared before their parents were awake during the week of Liz’s birthday. It was for their safety; Dad got even more testy than usual when Isabel was around… and Mom got really violent.

Isabel nodded her head, “I’m always out of the house before Mom and Dad wake up and come to see you,” she said. “I just make it a point to take off sooner on your birthday,”

“Can’t they understand…” Liz started, but it was useless. She knew the rules.

“No.” Isabel cut in, “Those are the rules, Liz… I’m not you… I can’t just get away with breaking them,” she paused. “You know what happened when you were six…”

“Yeah,” Liz said, shivering as she remembered the incident. Liz had been old enough to know what was going on— six years old at the time— and she had noticed that Isabel had never celebrated a day as long as she could remember. When she was brave enough to ask her mother why, her mother had slapped her so hard across the face that she had seen stars… and she had been smart enough never to ask again.

“I know.” She whispered, as Isabel pulled the covers back and got out of the bed.

“But I’ll be back later tonight.” Isabel offered, trying to sound bright and sunny… to sound happy… and young. “And I’ll have a present for you then,” she smiled.

“We can hang out as long as we want?” Liz asked, mumbling against the covers.

“Yeah,” Isabel said, opening Liz’s bedroom door. “Save a piece of cake for me.”

“Alright,” Liz made the effort to smile back, sadness and helplessness gripping her heart. “See you later, Izzie,” Liz whispered, silent tears streaming down her face.

“Bye, Lizzie bear…” Isabel whispered back before closing the door to her bedroom.



TBC...

*^*^*^*^*

Great new part, even if sad but the one thing with being sad is it will one day be better!!! for all of them, if they will...

Thanks EVE

Some people should never have kids! All of their lives are so sad!

read this first "over there" and continue to be amazed at Isabel's care and concern for her sister.
I agree with the others, some people should not have kids.......
These poor kids deserve more.

Thanks, Carolyn

Cool story...just started it, are you coming back?

I finally got caught up! I'm sorry it took me so long.

Yay, we finally got a glimpse of Kyle here! For some reason, I have a really hard time picturing him as someone who barely talks, but I love that Tess is the person he feels comfortable with already. So sweet.

Isabel and Liz's home life is probably one of the most disturbing things I've read in a fic in recent years. I'm still trying to figure out the family's dynamics, but I find it so admirable that Isabel wants to protect Liz so badly.

Keep going please! I'm greedy and I want MORE!

Btw, I'm nominating this fic at the Roswell Heaven fanfic awards, because I think any author who's willing to explore some dark territory in their work deserves the recognition!