Roswell Fanatics

We're nearing the end here, though this is NOT the last part. It's a long epilogue.

There WILL be a third story in this series, though I've been struggling with some major writer's block lately, so I don't know how soon I will be posting it.

Music suggestion is the beautiful (and sad) "She Has No Time" by Keane, which I listened to on repeat for a certain part of this fic. You an listen to it here when you see if you'd like.








Part 82








Epilogue

No one ever thought I’d get anywhere in life. But I did. I got here. When I went to college, my life went somewhere.

Suck on that, Mr. Frost.

I never have quite understood why my college picked Pistol Pete as a mascot, though, even though I’ve grown to appreciate it. Why not just use a generic cowboy instead? Why use a guy who left a trail of bodies in his wake? He’s not a good guy.

But he’s a legend, so they say. The ultimate brave cowboy who never backs down, never gives up, never quits fighting for what he wants.

I wonder what he wanted. Probably that girl who gave him the cross, right? The cross that saved his life in a shootout. You never know what’s gonna save you. Just like you never know what might destroy you.

But I don’t think old Pete ever really had that girl. She died before he could thank her.

That doesn’t seem fair.

Would he have even bothered to thank her, though? Not likely, if you ask me. He wasn’t a hero. Cowboys aren’t heroes, despite what the movies might want you to believe. But they don’t have to be villains, either. Being dangerous isn’t the same thing as being bad.

I know Pistol Pete wasn’t a hero; and I know he wasn’t a villain.

I don’t know which one I am. But I know which one I wanna be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( )

The wait was agonizing. It seemed endless, and the longer it dragged on, the more Michael wondered what the hell they were waiting for. Didn’t these tests only take a couple of minutes? Sarah had been out of that bathroom for ten minutes now, but she’d just sat down on the couch and fallen silent. She wasn’t making any move to get up and go back in. It was like she was catatonic or something, and he, on the flipside, couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth, trying to keep his breathing steady, even though that got harder and harder with each minute that dragged by.

Finally, though, he just couldn’t take it anymore, and he had to say something. “I think . . . we can go check it now.” Hint, hint.

She shook her head stubbornly. “No, I’m not ready for that.”

Not ready? What, did she prefer the torture of this? “Well . . . I am,” he said, hoping that would be enough for her to get ready.

“That doesn’t matter to me, Michael,” she snapped.

“Hey, I might not be the one who’s pregnant, but this affects me, too,” he reminded her, his voice rising in volume despite his desire to stay calm for her. “I just wanna know. You took the test. Let’s go see what it says.”

There was this sweeping look of hurt in her eyes when he said that, like she hated him for being insensitive or something. He couldn’t bear to see her look that way, not under normal circumstances, and definitely not now. So he shut himself up and relented to more waiting.

Instead of pacing, he took a seat next to her on the couch, careful not to sit too close. His eyes swept over her, studying her, taking in the sight of that long, dark hair and those thick eyelashes for the first time in weeks. He’d almost forgotten how small she was compared to him, but . . . maybe she wouldn’t be small much longer.

He glanced at her stomach, thinking that it didn’t . . . it didn’t look pregnant.

“Did you ever really love me?” she asked him suddenly, her voice a mere whisper, a fraction of what it usually was. “Or was I always just the girl you dated because you couldn’t have Maria?”

He hated that he’d given her reason to doubt their relationship, everything they’d shared. “No, I loved you,” he assured her. Those two and a half years with her had been some of the best of his life. “A lot.”

That didn’t seem to be any consolation at all. If anything, she looked even more hurt knowing that it had been real. “I remember our first night here in this place,” she recalled, glancing over her shoulder at the bed that used to be their bed. “I couldn’t fall asleep, and when I did, I had a nightmare.” She inhaled shakily, her eyes shimmering with tears that were right on the edge. “When I woke up, I was trembling, and you just put your arms around me and held me, and you said, ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be alright.’” She tried to smile, but it was more of a sad grimace than anything else.

He knew he couldn’t do that anymore, but he could still try to be reassuring. “It is gonna be alright,” he said, not sure what gave him the authority to make such a promise. He just felt like, if he didn’t, she’d break apart into a million pieces right before his eyes.

“It just doesn’t sound as convincing anymore.” She hung her head, staring down at her lap blankly, and he swore he’d never seen her look more lost.

“Sarah, I’m right here,” he told her. “You’re not doin’ this alone.”

“I am alone, though,” she insisted, seeing right through the thin veil of comfort in his words. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. We were supposed to be together.”

“We don’t even know if . . .” He looked over helplessly at the bathroom door. It was open just a bit, the light from inside peeking through. They didn’t even know if anything was happening. Maybe it was all just a false alarm. A scare.

She sighed heavily and wrapped both arms around her stomach, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because she nervous or because she was envisioning a baby in there. “You can go look now,” she mumbled.

Great, so he had her permission. Although . . . suddenly, he didn’t feel so eager to find out anymore. “You don’t want to?” he asked. “We could do it together.”

She shook her head fearfully. “I can’t.”

He let out a heavy breath, knowing that meant he had to. As petrified as he was feeling, he had to hold it together and go find out for her. For them. Find out if they were having a baby. Find out if he was going to be a dad.

“Okay.” He reached over and put his hand on her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze, and much to his surprise, she let him.

He lumbered over to the bathroom, feeling like he was going in slow motion, just trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. It was all so familiar that he couldn’t help but flash back to the last time he’d done this. He’d been an eighteen year old boy then, and Maria had been the girl who couldn’t bear to look. But as naïve and as clueless as he’d been back then . . . he’d been something else, too: hopeful. He hadn’t dreaded the thought of seeing a positive result on that test, and now he did. Three years later, when his life actually was somewhat on track and he’d learned to be responsible . . . this was when the dread kicked in.

He swiped the testing strip off the sink and clasped his hand over the result window, terrified. It wasn’t Sarah’s fault that this was happening, and it wasn’t like he didn’t want it. He wanted kids. Just . . .

He stood in the doorway, gulping hard, and slowly peeled his hand back from the results window, barely brave enough to even look down at it. His eyes flittered all around it but never quite focused on it until . . .

Until he couldn’t not. He caught sight of one pink line. And then another. And he knew what that meant.

Pregnant.

It was positive, and positive was supposed to be a good thing.

He looked at Sarah, who couldn’t seem to look at him. Her tear-filled eyes bore straight ahead at the wall.

In an instant, it was like the whole world fell away, and he couldn’t even feel the floor under his feet or the test in his hand. His arms and legs felt numb, and his heart dropped into his stomach. He peered down at the test again to make sure he was seeing it right.

He was.

His throat felt dry, and no words came out. But apparently they weren’t necessary. Sarah sat stiff as a board on the couch, thoroughly saturated in stress and anxiety, and she didn’t even look over at him. But whether it was just a knowing feeling she had or a silence that said it all, she seemed to understand.

Pregnant.

She pressed her lips together tightly as they trembled, but eventually she just squeezed her eyes shut and started to cry. Her whole body crumpled in on itself, and her shoulders shook as the sobs poured out of her.

As if all the air had gone out of his lungs, he slumped against the doorframe, struggling to stay upright. He wanted to cry, just like Sarah was, but he didn’t. He thought of Maria, and then he thought of Dylan . . . and then he tried to think of something to say. As if the lump in his throat would allow him to say anything. Something supportive, maybe, something reassuring. Something to make Sarah feel like the world wasn’t ending, even though it seemed like it was.

But he had no idea what to say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Max roamed through his house, alarmed by the silence. Without Dylan around, there was just no noise, no laughter. Nothing. It was crazy to think that all that shouting he and Maria had done could be reduced to this. And this . . . this was what Maria wanted for him. She wanted him to end up alone. Hell, her first instinct following their confrontation was to take Dylan and high-tail it out of there. Clearly she’d never be willing to share him. She thought she knew what was best for him; she thought she was the better parent.

She had No. Fucking. Clue.

He went out on his porch and whipped out his phone, dialing a number he hadn’t bothered with in years, one he didn’t even have programmed into his phone anymore but still knew by heart.

Three rings in, a gruff voice answered, “Hello?”

He must not have recognized my number, Max thought, swallowing his pride. “Hi, Dad.”

His father didn’t say anything for a moment, probably shocked as hell. They hadn’t spoken since he’d gotten kicked out of college his sophomore year. Finally, though, he said, “Well, hello, son. It’s been a while.”

“A long while,” Max agreed. Personally, he would have been content to draw it out a little longer, but circumstances had changed. Things were coming to a head, and he needed a powerful ally in his corner. “I hope you don’t mind this isn’t a social call. I need a favor.”

“Of course you do,” his dad grumbled. “What do you need?”

Max looked down the hall at the open door to Dylan’s empty bedroom, fear surrounding what was left of his heart. “I need a lawyer.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Instead of being the one who couldn’t sit still, Michael now could barely move. He sat on the couch with one leg up on the cushions, the other extended over to the coffee table while Sarah paced all around the living room, rattling off question after question, not one of which he had an answer for. She’d stopped crying, but now . . . she was just worked up.

“What’re we gonna do, Michael?” she fretted. “I mean, this is, like, the worst thing that could happen.”

You have no idea, he thought. This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened today. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, struggling to keep coming up with assuring things to say to her. The more it sunk in that they’d created a child together, the more overwhelmed he felt.

“But we’re not even together,” she reminded him. “How are we gonna figure this out if we’re not even . . .” She trailed off and gasped, obviously on the verge of another sobbing breakdown. “God, this is just . . . it isn’t fair. I don’t even know why . . . I mean, I was on the pill. I always took it.”

“Nothin’ works a hundred percent of the time,” he mumbled, wishing he could go back in time and just put on a fucking condom. Then, chances were, this whole crisis could have been avoided. But no, he had to be a fucking moron.

“But it should’ve worked,” she protested, shaking her head frustratedly. “We shouldn’t . . . we shouldn’t be having a baby. We’re not ready for that.”

You’re not a kid anymore, Michael reminded himself. You’re an adult. You can handle this.

“Would you say something?” she demanded shrilly.

He rubbed his forehead, scraping the bottom of the reassurance barrel when he reused the same line he’d already said a dozen times that day. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Not that.”

“Why not?” It didn’t hurt to put a little positive energy out there, did it? Not that he was feeling all that positive.

“You don’t know if it’s gonna be alright,” she bit out. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you.”

Because you don’t trust me, he recognized. And why would she? Shit. He’d fathered a child with a girl who didn’t trust him anymore. “Look, this whole thing . . .” He stood up, muscles aching like he’d aged ten years in just one day. “It caught me off guard, alright?”

“Oh, and what, I was so prepared for it?”

“No, I didn’t . . .” He understood why she’d snap at him right now, but it was really hard for him to be the calm one about all of this. “I’m tryin’ my best here.”

Her jaw shook as she tilted her head back to hold the tears in. “This can’t be happening,” she choked out. “I can’t be pregnant. I just . . . god, I was gonna go home this summer and everything. And I was gonna transfer.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in alarm. “To Las Cruces?”

“Yeah, but now what do I do?”

You don’t go, he thought, but he didn’t want to seem like he was giving her an order. “We don’t have to think about that right now,” he said, but hell, he’d be thinking about it. Maybe these weren’t the ideal circumstances to be having a kid, but he did not want to be an absentee parent, just a name in a Christmas card.

“Michael, we have to think about these things,” she insisted. Every time she said we, her voice wavered a bit, like she was struggling to think of them that way.

“I can’t do this right now,” he breathed out suddenly.

“And you think I can?”

It was too much, too much craziness to take in and deal with at once. Sarah needed him and Maria needed him, and he just felt like he didn’t know what to do for either one of them. So he was failing them both. “I’ve got too much goin’ on. I—I can’t—there’s too much! I can’t even--”

“Why don’t you just say it, Michael?” she cut in.

“Say what?”

She rubbed her stomach sadly, sniffing back tears. “You don’t want this. You don’t want this baby.”

No, that wasn’t it. His dad hadn’t wanted him, and he refused to be anything like that. “Yeah, I do,” he insisted, knowing that this could be the greatest thing that ever happened to him in the long run. It just didn’t feel like that now.

“Not with me,” she cried, fresh tears falling down her face. “You want it with Maria!”

His breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t deny it. He didn’t want to lie to her again, especially not when she so clearly already knew the truth.

When his phone rang, he wanted to smash it. Even if it was Maria calling. Especially if it was her.

“Is that her?” Sarah asked.

He picked up his phone, surprised to see that it wasn’t. “No, it’s Isabel.”

“Oh, is she your girlfriend now, too?” Sarah snorted.

He ignored that, knowing he probably deserved it. Damn, he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a reason for why she’d be calling, but hell, she’d probably just keep calling back if he didn’t answer. So he did, but he didn’t bother trying to be polite. “What?”

She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, and when she did, all it was was a high-pitched, pathetic-sounding, “Michael?”

“Now’s not a really a good time,” he told her.

“No, please, don’t hang up,” she begged, “please!”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and turned his back towards Sarah. “What do you want?”

She breathed in sharply and whimpered, “I’m scared.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” He was losing patience fast.

“I’m really scared, Michael.”

“Then call your boyfriend,” he suggested.

“No, I can’t call him! I hate him!” she bleated.

Oh, fuck, he thought, wishing he’d never taken this call. He was so not the right person to listen to her relationship troubles, especially not given his own current problem. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said, about to end the call.

“No, Michael, you don’t understand!” she practically screamed.

“I’m hanging up.”

“I feel like killing myself!”

His mouth dropped open in shocked silence, and at first, he thought maybe he’d heard her wrong. But then he remembered the pill incident earlier this year, and something told him this wasn’t just a ploy for attention this time. She meant that.

“W-what?” he sputtered, not sure how to deal with this. “Isabel, what do you mean you . . .”

She just started crying. Or kept crying, perhaps.

Shit, this wasn’t good. He dug his hand through his hair, trying to think of what to do. “Okay, where are you?” he asked, figuring the most logical thing was just to get to her. Then at least he could try to talk her down face to face.

“At my house,” she replied. “Alone.”

Alone. That wasn’t good. She couldn’t be alone right now. He’d read enough psychology reports and had enough common sense to know that much. “Okay, just . . . just wait there, alright?” he instructed her. “I’ll come get you.”

No response.

“Isabel.” He just needed her to hang in there for ten minutes.

“I’ll wait,” she said.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” He ended the call, pocketed his phone, and hurried towards the bed to find his keys.

“What’s going on?” Sarah questioned.

“I gotta go.” Dammit, where the hell had he put those keys? Not on the nightstand, not in the drawer.

“What? Michael!” she yelped.

He checked under his pillow, and for some reason, there they were. “I’ll be back,” he promised, brushing past her on his way to the door.

“No, you can’t just leave me!” she cried, scurrying after him. “We have to deal with this.”

He knew they did, and they would. Just not right now. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping she still knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t just take off without a good reason. “I have to go.”

That downcast, confused look on her face made it so hard to walk out the door. But he did it anyway.








TBC . . .

-April

HOLY MFG! Twisty and turny and nowhere near an ending. I KNEW Jesse was going to do that. I just knew it. Scum of the earth and beyond.

I did NOT however forsee this pregnancy with Sarah at all. That one certainly caught me off guard and really makes me wonder what in the hell is going to happen. Apparently they all need to live in a compound and co-parent. HA!

Thanks for the updates!

sarammlover wrote:HOLY MFG! Twisty and turny and nowhere near an ending.

I love that reaction. I wanted these last few parts of this story to be truly shocking.

I did NOT however forsee this pregnancy with Sarah at all. That one certainly caught me off guard and really makes me wonder what in the hell is going to happen.

I can't remember when I decided that Sarah was going to get pregnant. I think it was pretty early on. Probably the more natural assumption was that Maria was going to get pregnant, but I was like . . . nope. Plot twist.


Thanks for reading! This is the second-to-last part of this story.








Part 83








Michael broke a few speed limits on the way over to Isabel’s—more than a few—and he managed to get there in eight minutes instead of ten. He wasn’t sure what he would find when he got there, but he had horrible visions of her lying on the bathroom floor, not breathing, an empty bottle in her hand.

He’d just gotten out of the car and started for the door when she came out, looking . . . not great, but not unconscious, either. She had her purse with her and looked ready to go.

“You scared the hell outta me,” he told her, relieved to see her looking pretty good. Maybe whatever had been upsetting her so much had passed.

Or maybe not, because just stared at him and didn’t say anything.

“Come on, get in the car,” he told her, putting his hand on her shoulder, gently urging her in front of him. She walked down the sidewalk like a zombie, completely out of it, completely despondent.

Obviously something was still very wrong, but he asked, “You alright?” as he drove towards campus, not quite sure where he was supposed to be taking her.

“No,” she moaned.

“What happened?” The more he knew, the more he’d be able to help. Maybe.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” she mumbled.

“You sure? ‘cause I’m a counselor. Or at least I’m gonna be.”

She set her purse on her lap and unzipped it, reaching inside lethargically. When she pulled her hand back out, he nearly slammed on the breaks.

“Holy shit, Isabel!” he swore, eyes bugging out at the sight of the sleek black object she was holding. “What is that?”

Her voice was flat, emotionless. “Exactly what it looks like.”

He’d never actually seen a handgun before, and this was way too close for comfort. “Put it down,” he told her, worried she’d lift it up to her temple and just pull the trigger right in front of him.

She held it with two fingers like a dirty dishcloth and set it down on the backseat. “It’s Jesse’s,” she explained. “He never uses it, though.”

“But you were going to?” He couldn’t believe it. Suicide was pretty unfathomable no matter what, but he’d never pictured Isabel resorting to something so . . . violent. Clearly he was out of his league here. She needed professional help, and he wasn’t a professional yet. “Alright, listen, I’m gonna take you somewhere safe,” he said, “and then I’m gonna get rid of that gun and you’re never gonna think about it again. Got it?” He’d go chuck it out in the desert or something, somewhere she’d never find it.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He’d drive her wherever she wanted to go, wherever she’d feel safe.

“There’s nowhere,” she lamented, sounding as if she’d given up.

“What?”

“There’s nowhere for me to go.” She wasn’t being loud and hysterical or anything, but . . . it was more like a quiet kind of hysteria. Like any minute, she was going to become so overwrought with emotion that she twisted around in that seat, picked up the gun, and followed through with her plan.

“What about your friends?” he suggested. “Courtney?” That girl wasn’t exactly the most stable influence, but if Isabel felt safe with her . . .

“She’s not my friend,” she grumbled.

Okay, so much for that idea, he thought, trying another one. “Your mom’s?”

“No.” She gazed out the window sorrowfully. “I’m not welcome there.”

He sighed, contemplating a quick drive over to Chancellor Rehab. It wasn’t just physical rehabilitation services they provided there. They had emotional counseling, too. But something told him she’d resist that, and he’d end up doing more harm than good by even attempting it.

“Can you just take me to your place?” she sniveled.

“No. No, you can’t . . . you can’t be there,” he said. For all he knew, Sarah was still back there waiting for him, and at this point, Maria and Dylan had probably shown up. So that would be enough of a shit storm when he got home without her being there, too.

There was one other option, and although it wasn’t the most appealing to him, it was probably the best thing possible for her right now. “Max.”

She shook her head regretfully. “We’re not close.”

“But he wouldn’t turn you away, right? I mean, he’d let you stay with him?” The guy was an ass, sure, but he was still her brother.

“Maybe,” she said.

Well, maybe was something. In this case, it was as good as a yes. “Then that’s where I’m takin’ you,” he decided, even though he dreaded showing his face there.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Max heard a car pull up outside, he assumed it was Maria. Maybe Liz if she’d decided to pull the plug on the Alan thing tonight. But when he looked out the window, what he saw was that same car that had been in his driveway a couple weeks ago, the same one he’d come home to after spending the weekend with Dylan in Roswell.

Unbelievable, he thought, balling his hands into fists. This guy had a lot of nerve to show his face here. Which gave Max the perfect excuse to pummel it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael put the car in park and said, “Here you go,” motioning to the house. He didn’t mean to make it seem like he was just dropping her off and leaving her to fend for herself here, but . . . he really couldn’t go any further.

“Please come with me,” she pled.

Oh, that’s really not a good idea, he wanted to say. But she just looked so helpless, like she wouldn’t even make it up to the door if he didn’t go with her.

Dammit. He twisted the key in the ignition towards him and shut the car off, reluctantly climbing out.

He followed her up the driveway, keeping his hands in his pockets and his head down. It wasn’t like he could just blend in with the surroundings or anything, but if he could just be as motionless and as wordless as possible, then maybe he’d get out of there without a confrontation.

Max opened the door and came out on the porch as they made their way to the house. He crossed his arms and grumbled, “What’s this all about?”

Isabel glanced at Michael questioningly, but he just motioned for her to step forward and say something. She was quiet as a mouse when she said, “I need a place to stay.”

“Why?” Max asked.

“Because I can’t stay at home.”

“Why not?”

She shifted uncomfortably, not answering. She wouldn’t want to answer.

“Look, just let her stay here, alright?” Michael piped up against his better judgment. He didn’t want to just stand there and listen to Max interrogate her, demand answers.

Max smiled at his sister, a sort of close-mouthed smirk. “Sure, Isabel, you can stay,” he said, sounding overly cheerful. “In fact, come right in. Michael . . . you, too.” That faux chipper expression morphed into a glare, but his tone left little room for debate.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Michael thought, meandering inside behind Isabel. This was not what he had anticipated at all this evening. In fact, nothing today had gone according to plan. He was supposed to be sitting at home with Maria and Dylan right now watching freakin’ Monsters, Inc., not rescuing his ex-girlfriend from her own suicide attempt and conversing with his worst enemy.

“Thank you, Max,” Isabel said once they were inside. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

Michael felt like rolling his eyes at that. But he didn’t.

“And thank you,” Isabel added, turning to face him. She moved in close and hugged him, and he pretty much just stood there and let her.

“You saved me,” she whispered in his ear as she pulled away.

Max, of course, could be counted on to ruin the moment. “Isabel, would you mind giving Michael and me a chance to talk?” he asked. But it wasn’t really a question.

“Sure,” she said, glancing back and forth inquisitively between the two of them. She slipped off into the hallway, though, ducked into the guest bedroom, and shut the door.

“Look, I know you’re probably pissed at me,” Michael started in, keeping his voice down.

“Pissed?” Max echoed. “That’s one word for it.”

“But what’s goin’ on with your sister is bigger than any of that. She called me twenty minutes ago, said she felt like killin’ herself.”

Max half-shrugged and said, “Hmm.”

Michael huffed in disbelief, “What, is that not a big deal to you?”

“Maybe,” Max said, though he didn’t sound very fucking concerned. “But haven’t we all felt like that from time to time?”

Like killing ourselves? Michael gave him a hard look. “No.” No matter how bad the crap in his life got, he’d never been in that dark of place. It wasn’t normal. “Look, she needs help, alright? Maybe the same kind of help you claim to have gotten. So help her. She’s your sister, your responsibility.” If it was his little sister who’d just nearly offed herself, he’d stop at nothing to do something for her.

This wasn’t the place for him, though. Isabel needed a safe haven right now, some calmness, and her brother’s house was the closest she was going to get to that. As long as Michael wasn’t there to disrupt it. Knowing his presence would do more harm than good, he tried to turn and leave, but Max grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Hold on,” he said. “We’re not finished yet.”

“Come on, give it a rest,” Michael told him. “We can deal with our shit some other time.”

“When?” Max growled. “Before or after Dylan starts calling you Dad?”

The way he said that was so filled with contempt, so filled with jealousy, that Michael couldn’t help but give him something to be jealous about. “He never stopped,” he informed him, letting that marinate as he spun around to try to leave again.

Once again, Max didn’t let him go, though. This time, he jumped in front of him, blocking his progress to the door.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Fine, you wanna hash this out right now? Let’s hash it out. I’m not sorry.”

“You’re not?” Max actually sounded surprised by that.

“No. Maybe Maria feels bad, maybe she apologized, but I’m not gonna. Not to you, Max. You don’t deserve it.” There were plenty of other people who get plenty of other sorries from him, but those people weren’t jackasses.

“So I suppose I deserve a girlfriend who cheats on me then,” Max said. “Is that it?” He chuckled angrily, stepping out of Michael’s way. “You know, when I showed up in Roswell, I was the bad guy,” he said. “I can accept that. And by all accounts, you were the good one. So how’s it feel now that the tables have turned?”

“You think you’re good?” Michael grunted. “Yeah, right. You may have everyone else fooled, but I know you haven’t changed. You’re still that sick, stoned motherfucker who kidnapped his own son and almost drove him off a bridge.”

Max narrowed his eyes, countering, “And who are you, Michael? You’re not exactly the good guy these days, either. I mean, good guys don’t have affairs. Good guys don’t cheat on Sarah Nguyen.”

Michael tensed, uncomfortable even hearing her name come out of this prick’s mouth.

“Was it worth it?” he asked. “Was it worth breaking her heart just to score some ass?” He grinned mockingly. “So to speak.”

He thought of Sarah, of that heartbroken look on her face as he’d walked out of the apartment twenty minutes earlier, and for the first time . . . he wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Knowing what he knew now, knowing they were going to be parents . . . that was what it took for his conscience to finally overpower his id and feel as guilty as he deserved to feel.

“Doesn’t matter,” Max dismissed. “She’s better off without you anyway. She’ll move on, find someone else, get married and have a few kids.”

Michael winced inwardly, feeling like he’d robbed Sarah of that future.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Max taunted.

“Go to hell,” Michael muttered, struggling to keep his anger in check.

“Ooh, I did.” Max’s eyes gleamed, as he clearly took delight in eliciting that response. “You feel bad. And you should. You got so high on Maria’s pussy, you didn’t care who the hell you screwed over to get it.”

No, I care, Michael thought. He would always care about Sarah. He just didn’t give a flying fuck about Max.

“You probably wanna knock her up, huh? Stake your claim on her so she can’t come crawling back to me?”

The fact that Max even assumed Maria would crawl back was laughable, but making a joke about getting her pregnant wasn’t. “She’ll never go back to you, Max.”

“Good. I don’t want her,” he claimed. “You two can ride off into the sunset and fuck your brains out for all I care. But I’ll tell you one thing: You’re not getting Dylan.”

Michael made a face. “Who said anything about taking him?”

“Oh, it’s obvious that’s what you want. And I’m sure Maria does, too. She won’t admit it—she’ll act like she’s cooperating at first, especially if we go to court—but ultimately, what she wants is for Dylan’s last name to change.”

Michael shrugged, not about to deny wanting that same thing. “Hmm, Dylan Guerin. Sounds good. A hell of a lot better than Dylan Evans ever would.”

Max glared at him and shook his head.

“Face it, Max: You can’t stand the fact that he likes me better than you. And Maria likes me better, too. That’s gotta sting.”

Clearly it did. Max shut his mouth for the first time, but it took all of two seconds for him to open it again. “You’re right,” he admitted, taking a step back, nodding slowly. “They do like you. But I don’t know why.”

Right now . . . he didn’t know why, either. He felt like a total screw-up today, but . . . maybe tomorrow he’d feel better.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter if you’re goin’ to college and gettin’ scholarships and holding a job,” Max continued ranting. “You’re still just a loser. You’re still going nowhere in life. And let’s be real here . . . you’re still bound to end up like your dad.”

Michael’s jaw tightened, and he almost lost it right there. He tried to talk himself down, though, to cool the white-hot rage. It’s not true, he thought. It’s not true.

“Think about that, Michael, the next time you’re with Maria,” Max urged, circling around him derisively. “Think about how you’re gonna ruin her life.”

He shook his head, repeating his mantra. It’s not true.

“Just like your dad ruined your mom’s. Think about how he used to yell at her. That’s how you’re gonna yell at Maria.”

“No,” he said, trying to block him out.

Max kept circling, kept talking. “Think about all those times he got drunk just ‘cause he hated you so much and didn’t wanna deal with you. Is that how you’re gonna hate Dylan?”

“Fuck you.”

“Think about the time he tried to kill himself—yeah, Maria told me about that; she told me everything.”

Don’t let him get to you.

“Think about the time he actually did kill himself.”

It was starting to get to him.

“Think about all that, Michael, ‘cause that’s your future. That’s you someday,” Max menaced, getting right up in his face. “Think about that the next time you claim you’ll be a good father. Think about that the next time you screw your fucking whore!”

Michael pulled his arm back and swung with all his might, slamming it into Max’s face. He hit him with enough force to send him stumbling backward, but not enough to knock him down.

Max held his jaw, spitting out blood. Rather than looking intimidated, he just grinned excitedly. “Oh, I was so hoping you’d do that,” he seethed. Like a coiled spring, he shot forward, throwing his whole body’s weight against Michael, pushing him back against the door. Michael’s head hit hard, and he swore in pain but pushed right back. He tried to punch him again, but Max ducked out of the way this time, lowered his elbow, and jammed it into Michael’s stomach.

“Oh!” he cried as pain shot through his abdomen. He doubled over, staggering as he tried to remain upright, and Max grabbed his head with both his hands and threw it back against the door again.

Memories of their last fight like this flooded him, and he knew he’d lost that one. He wasn’t gonna lose this time. He was going to beat this guy down so hard, what was left wouldn’t even look like him.

When Max’s tried to hit him, Michael jerked his left hand up, grabbing his fist and stopping him. It took all the strength he could muster to push back against Max’s force, and eventually he just flung his right foot out, sending Max flying across the living room with a swift kick to the gut.

He stalked forward, more than willing to do some damage. Why not? Even though they hadn’t thrown down like this for three years, the fight between them had never stopped.








TBC . . .

-April

Here we are, officially at the last chapter of this massive 1,108 page story. It's a wild ending.

There will be a third story in this saga, but I don't have an approximate posting date yet, as I need to overcome my writer's block and write more before I begin to post it. It will happen, though, so stay tuned!

Thanks to everyone who has read this story, and the prior one. Your support means a lot.

One last music suggestion today: "And the World Was Gone" by Snow Ghosts, which you can listen to here when you see if you would like.








Part 84








Having caught the gist of their argument, Isabel had pretty much anticipated that things would quickly escalate to blows. They’d both been egging each other on, and given the whole Maria factor, it seemed inevitable. But it sounded brutal out there. So brutal that she was actually a little bit afraid to leave that guestroom.

She heard Max shout something, and then Michael bellowed something back, and she couldn’t just sit there and do nothing any longer. The minute she opened the door, though, Michael went crashing down the hallway as if he’d been thrown, landing on the floor with a thud.

“Oh my god!” she gasped. “Are you okay?”

He completely ignored her and clamored back to his feet, charging back out into the living room like a bull in a cage.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Max blasted. “Come at me, you son of a bitch!”

Isabel slinked down the hallway, wincing with the sound of every punch. She wasn’t sure who was hitting who at this point, but it sounded like it hurt.

When she peeked around the corner into the living room, her curiosity turned into legitimate fear. They were both going at each other so hard that it literally looked like something choreographed in an action movie. There was blood on both their faces already, and things around the living room were starting to break.

“Stop it!” she yelled, but neither one of them heard her. Max grabbed Michael by the collar and held him steady as he swung and hit him, and then Michael returned the favor by punching him in the gut.

“You guys, stop!” she tried again, but it was no use. She didn’t want to get involved, but she didn’t have much of a choice when Max grabbed Michael and threw him down on the ground. He sat down on top of him and just started pummeling him, punch after punch after punch. It was constant.

“Max, don’t!” She interjected herself into the fray, trying to grab hold of her brother’s shoulders and pull him off, but he jerked his elbow back into her leg, shoving her away.

“Don’t touch her!” Michael growled, and seconds later, he’d flipped their positions, and he was the one making Max’s face look like a paint canvas again.

“Oh my god.” She raced back into the bedroom, partially for her own safety, but mostly because she just felt powerless. They were too big, too strong. If they didn’t decide to stop on their own, she wouldn’t be able to make them stop. She needed help.

She couldn’t call Jesse, so she called the only other person who came to mind. He wasn’t a fighter by any means, but he’d know what to do. He’d know how to fix this.

Thankfully, he answered this time. “Hello?”

“Oh, Alex, thank God. Thank God,” she gasped, wincing when she heard Michael yell out in pain. “They’re hurting each other! They won’t stop!”

“Who?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

She found herself crying, worrying that they were going to go too far, that one of them was going to seriously injure the other while she just stood back and watched. “You have to help me,” she wailed. “I don’t know what to do!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dylan laughed at the cartoon on TV. Maria might have laughed, too, if she’d been paying any attention at all to what they were watching.

“Hold on, slow down,” she could hear Alex saying from the kitchen. “Tell me what’s happening.”

She cast a curious glance back over her shoulder, catching glimpses of him pacing back and forth worriedly. Something wasn’t right. With Liz, maybe? She hoped not.

“Okay, just try to get ‘em to stop,” he said. “Call the cops if you have to. I can be there in ten minutes.”

Maria bristled. The cops? What was going on?

Alex reentered the living room a moment later, an urgency to his movements as he quickly put on his shoes again.

Maria untangled herself from Dylan and got up off the couch. “What was that all about?” she asked him quietly.

“That was Isabel.”

She looked at him questioningly, wanting more info than that.

He sighed, pulling her further away from Dylan and closer to the front door. “She says Michael’s over at your house right now.”

“What?” Why would he go over there?

“He and Max are fighting.”

“Fighting?” she echoed.

“Yeah, like physically. I have to go help.”

Oh my god. Panic gripped her, and she quickly slid on her sandals. “I’m coming with you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” he suggested. “We don’t even know why they’re fighting.”

“It’s about me,” she blurted, knowing without a doubt. “I’m going.”

“What about him?” Alex asked, motioning to Dylan. “He can’t be there for that.”

She glanced back at her sweet, innocent little boy, who was laughing so hard at the cartoon now that he was practically rolling around on the couch. He’d already witnessed the two most important men in his life come to blows once, but thankfully he didn’t remember it. They couldn’t count on that same luck this time. “Can you stay here with him?” she requested, figuring it would be best for him to just keep watching TV, oblivious to what was going on.

“I can’t just let you go into that alone,” Alex said. “And I can’t leave Isabel to fend for herself. She called me. She needs me.”

Why the hell was Isabel even there? She didn’t know, and right now, she didn’t care. “Fine, then come with me,” she told him. “Take Isabel and Dylan somewhere safe until this all blows over. I’ll sort this out with Max and Michael.”

He groaned, as if he didn’t like the sound of that idea.

“Alex . . .” If she didn’t do something, then she’d just be stuck picturing what was happening in her mind. And right now, it wasn’t a pretty picture. “I can’t just sit here.”

He exhaled heavily, giving in. “Alright, let’s go,” he said.

“Dylan, come on, we’re leaving,” she announced.

“Aw . . .” Dylan whined, got down from the couch, and shut the TV off, sulking towards the door.

“Hurry,” she told him, slipping on his shoes for him. She didn’t even really bother tying them before trying to get him out the door.

“Wait, my football!” he hollered, darting back into the bedroom.

“Dylan . . .” They really didn’t have time for this.

He came back out a few seconds later, clutching it tightly to his chest, and then scampered out the door.

“When we get there, stay outside with him. Make sure he doesn’t see anything,” Maria cautioned.

“You think it’s that bad?” Alex asked.

It was Max and Michael. It was years of animosity reaching a boiling point. “I know it’s that bad.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michael had been tackled out on the football field hundreds of times. But this was different. This felt like being tackled over and over and over again, relentlessly, and it hurt ten times worse.

He felt himself being lifted up, and seconds later, Max slammed him down on the kitchen table. He felt a volt of pain shoot up his back, followed by the painful impact of Max’s fists. He swung wildly, beating on him like he was a punching bag. Michael tried to hold his arms up in front of his face as a shield, but it did little to no good. Several blows still landed, and they landed hard.

Pushing his legs out, he managed to kick him backward hard enough that he stumbled. Michael got up, feeling more than a little dizzy, barely able to keep his balance. He swung, missed, and then swung again. And that time he connected. Max head whipped to the side, and blood shot out of his mouth. He didn’t go down, so Michael hit him again, a right hook right to the side of the head.

“Is that all you got?” Max taunted, grabbing him by the arm. He flung him around to the counter, and Michael crashed into it face first, howling in agony.

When he caught sight of sharp knife lying on the counter, that was when he really let himself feel afraid. If they kept going like this . . . what if Max decided to use that knife? It already seemed like he’d gone off the deep end.

Max spun him around solely for the purpose of pounding on him so more. He delivered repeated punches to his abdomen, and even though Michael tried to tighten his stomach muscles and turn to the side to absorb the blows there, it didn’t help the pain. He was getting his ass kicked and he knew it.

“Come on, Michael, fight back!” Max roared, bending his knees to give him more momentum as he slammed an uppercut into Michael’s jaw. It felt like his whole head was about to break right off.

“I said fight back!” Grabbing both his shoulders, Max tossed him onto the floor, then stomped back over to the table.

Oh, shit, Michael thought, spitting up blood as he tried to crawl away. What the hell had he gotten himself into here? This wasn’t like last time. Max wasn’t high on drugs right now; the only thing he was under the influence of was his own rage. And that was what was so terrifying.

“You’re not so tough now, are you?” Max bellowed.

Michael knew he had to get up, so he struggled to his feet, holding his stomach. Plenty of things inside were probably already broken, and if they kept this up . . .

“Shit!” he swore, ducking into the hallway right as Max threw a chair at him. It smashed against the wall and fell apart. This guy was losing it.

“Michael!” he heard Isabel whimper loudly. She stood into the doorway to the guest bedroom, hands clutched in prayer over her mouth. “You guys have to stop!”

He stared at her helplessly. Yeah, he knew that. But her brother didn’t.

Max came charging at him then, barreling down the hallway, yelling. Isabel yelped as they flew right past her, and Michael cried out in anguish as Max slammed him back against the door to the master bedroom. There was a full length mirror on it that shattered the instant he hit, and he could feel tiny shards of glass pricking his arms and back.

“Max, stop!” Isabel cried. But of course he didn’t.

Summoning all the strength he had left, Michael blocked one of the punches and landed one of his own, one strong enough to knock Max back, send him staggering. He tumbled further down the hallway, and his head hit the wall. He fell to his hands and knees.

The taste of blood in Michael’s mouth was so strong now, like a warning. When he glanced down at his side, he noticed a gash there, already pooling with thick crimson.

“Call 911,” he told Isabel, barely able to get the words out before Max got up and lunged forward again. This time, she was in his path, so Michael jumped in front of her and pushed her out of the way, back into the bedroom. Max landed another punch to his head, one that nearly bowled him over this time.

Fuck, he thought, struggling to stay upright. If this didn’t end soon, it wasn’t going to end well for either of them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

( )

Maria glanced in her rearview mirror, making sure Alex was still following along behind her. Good, he was, even though she was moving pretty fast. She was on a mission to make every green light, and if they were yellow, she planned to make those, too.

“Mommy?” Dylan asked from the backseat. He hadn’t called her that in a long time. It was usually just Mom now. Mommy had been a younger thing.

“What is it, sweetie?” she asked, glancing down at her phone to see if Michael had called. Or maybe even Isabel. Anyone to let her know what was going on. They hadn’t.

“I—I wanna go home,” he sputtered. “Are we goin’ home?”

She winced, wishing she knew where home even was anymore. “Just for a little bit,” she told him. “But you’re not gonna go inside.” God, how had things deteriorated so fast today that their own house had become the most dangerous place for him to be?

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked. He may have been little, but he wasn’t an idiot. He obviously knew something wasn’t right.

“You’re gonna hang out with Aunt Liz’s friend Alex tonight,” she told him. “And your Aunt Isabel. You remember her, right?”

“Kinda,” he mumbled.

“You’re gonna be with her.” The irony of Isabel Evans of all people being a potentially stabilizing force in Dylan’s life right now was certainly not lost on her.

“What about Dad?” he asked.

She blinked back tears. What was Dylan’s dear old dad doing right now, exactly? Either getting beat down or doing the beating, or maybe some combination of the two. He and Michael both should have known better than to get into another fistfight. Why couldn’t they just handle things like adults for once? Hopefully this wasn’t as bad as the fight on the bridge had been. Maybe they would have even managed to calm themselves down by the time she got there.

Or maybe it was worse this time. For some reason . . . she had a feeling it was worse.

“Mom!” her son yelled at her impatiently. “What about Dad?”

“Dylan, I . . .” She pressed down harder on the gas pedal, zipping through another green light. “I don’t know, okay?”

He started to cry and kicked the back of her seat. “I want Dad!” he yelled.

“He’s not here, Dylan.”

He yelled louder.

“Look, just calm down, okay?” she told him, accelerating even more as the traffic light in front of her shone yellow. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Just--”

The blare of a car horn filled her ears, and suddenly, she felt an impact. Her whole body jerked and jostled, hands still clutching the steering wheel as their vehicle went into the air. She didn’t have time to scream, but she heard her son scream. And then there was just blackness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“And what’s the address of the house, ma’am?”

“I don’t--” Isabel grimaced when she heard Michael cry out in pain from the living room. “I don’t know!” She ran out into the hallway, sickened to see Max on top of him in the middle of the living room now, still landing punch after punch. Michael wasn’t even fighting back anymore. It was like he had nothing left.

She stepped out onto the porch and checked the number on the side of the house. “1522,” she said shakily. “1522 Ridge Road.” The 911 operator didn’t repeat it back to her to confirm that she had it correctly. In fact, there was just silence. “Hello?” she said. “Hello?” When she lowered her phone from her ear, she saw that the screen was dark. Battery dead.

“No, no, no!” she whimpered, bursting into tears again. She threw her phone out into the front lawn and ran back inside, still trying to help.

“Stop it, Max, you’re killing him!” she wailed, tugging on her brother’s shoulders. But he just shrugged her off like she was a fly or something.

She didn’t stop trying to remove him, even though she knew it was useless; but the longer she stood there pulling on him, trying in vain, the more she knew she had to do something more. Because if she didn’t, then the very man who had just saved her life today was going to die. His face was covered in blood, and his eyes were halfway shut.

Her feet moved almost on their own, it seemed, back outside to the car. She ran to it so fast she nearly fell against it, gasping for air. She opened the back door and took a long, hard look at the object in the backseat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There were sounds, noises, just faint ones. It was like everything was muffled, and she couldn’t distinguish one sound from another.

Maria struggled to open her eyes. Each lid felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. And her head was throbbing. She smelled smoke, too, all around her.

At first, she couldn’t even make out what she was seeing, and she didn’t know where she was. She just saw broken glass in front of her. Lots of it.

Gradually, she realized she was upside down, still in her car, her seatbelt holding her in place. Her hair hung wildly around her head, and some of it was sticky with blood.

Oh god, she thought. Dylan?

She tried to groan or make some sound, but even that was too painful.

With a great deal of effort, she was able to turn her head to the side and look out at the pavement. She saw dozens of different pairs of shoes coming towards her, and in between their legs, she saw another car lying overturned. And in it, hanging upside down in the same way she was, was Alex, his eyes shut, arms dangling.

Fear trickled down her spine, and she tried to turn herself around to check on her son. Her body felt like it was locked in place, though, and her vision was blurring. “Dylan?” she choked out, noticing flashing red and blue lights in the distance. She tried to reach back for him, but she was all disoriented being upside down, and it wasn’t getting any easier to keep her eyes open.

Stay awake, she told herself, needing to see her son, or to hear something from him. “Dylan?” It didn’t matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, though, because eventually, they fell shut.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

None of the hits hurt anymore. Michael shut his eyes and just took it, waiting for it to be over. It had to be over soon.

When he felt Max’s forearm press against his throat, though, his eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air. Every ounce of strength left in his body fought back, trying to breathe. He moved around as much as he could, but it was no use. The face hovering above was so blood-covered and twisted with rage that it didn’t even look human anymore, and the arm on his windpipe became two hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing tightly.

He couldn’t . . . he couldn’t breathe.

Faces rushed through his mind: Tina, Joe, his mother, even Nicholas. Kyle and Tess, all his friends. Sarah. The pregnancy test.

He flailed desperately, trying to push Max away. But he just wasn’t strong enough.

Maria and Dylan. Maria and Dylan. Maria.

Just as his vision was starting to darken, he saw Isabel come back inside the house. She lifted up the gun, aimed it at Max, and screamed as she pulled the trigger.

The hands around his neck immediately loosened, and the fury drained from Max’s eyes. He sat back as blood started to gush from his chest, soaking into his shirt. He looked down at his wound in horror, then looked over at his shoulder at Isabel.

Her mouth dropped open, and the gun shook in her hand as she lowered it.

Max’s eyes rolled back into his head as he tilted to the side and landed on the floor with a thud, right next to Michael, blood still pouring from his body, pooling up on the carpet now. Michael stared at him in disbelief, halfway expecting him to just get back up. But he didn’t move a muscle this time.

He looked up at Isabel, who was still as a statue now, wide eyes locked on her brother’s body.

His heart beat like a drum, and air burned through his lungs as she dropped the gun to the floor.








THE END

My brain was all abuzz and now it is silent. I am still reeling from what you just wrote. O.M.G.

I don't even know what to write right now. Alex, Maria and Dylan are in car, Sarah is still at Michael's, Max and Michael are both bloodied to shit and Isabel has a gun in her hand...OMG. Wow

I feel like I need a nice fluffy piece from you after reading this! HA HA but seriously I do!

I can't wait to see how the next installment turns out.

OMFG!!!

April!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a truly shocking ending. I have to say a huge congratulations to you! These first 2 stories are mammoth and the fact that you had me on the edge of my seat all throughout both of them culminating in this action filled last chapter shows what an amazing writer you are. You should be super proud of these stories, amazing work.

Wow, what an ending!! I don't even know where to begin. Obviously I hope that everyone is ok, well not Max, I actually really hate Max now. He gave into his rage and nearly killed Michael, I'm glad that Isabel stopped him and I don't think I will be very sad if he's dead. I feel horrible for saying that as I know a lot of people would be upset but that's how I feel. Unfortunately with Isabel's trauma I'm not surprised that it happened. Isabel I do feel sorry for. What Jesse did was disgusting, she trusted him and he had her gang raped all for a website. I hope it gets reported and that he goes to jail for a long time. I hope that Alex is ok and that they get their happy ending. Yes Isabel has been a joke throughout this book but I think she can redeem herself. That's if she doesn't end up in jail.

I really hope that Dylan is alright, that poor little boy, in another horrific accident because his parents can't get their shit together. Poor little man. Praying he's ok. Same with Alex.

Liz is going to have a hard time no matter what as she's always sort of been stuck in the middle. I'm sure she will blame Maria if Max dies and that will end their friendship.

Sarah, the poor thing, I really feel like Michael messed her around from the beginning. I'm sure he did love her but he was never fully comitted. I feel sad that she now has to go through this pregnancy to a man in love with someone else. It's really unfair for her.

I hope all goes well for Tess and Kyle, I'm loving that Kyle is back to his old self more and more and I hope there is no drama with the twins birth.

God I hope Maria is ok. She has made some stupid decisions and everyone I think will blame her even though Michael is equally to blame. She should have told Max right away and been done with it. She's been an idiot but I love her and want a happy ending for her. If Sarah decides to keep the baby then I hope Maria can be strong enough to stand by Michael.

Well we know Michael is alive, I'm sure he's very injured but he will be alright. I'm hoping that in the third book that he really steps up and gets his shit together. He needs to man up for Sarah and decide what he wants and work hard. It was sad to see him decline through his Maria obsession after all the hard work and effort he put in at college. Really want a happy ending for M&M.

Thanks so much for making my Monday mornings a little brighter, something to look forward to on the worst day of the week!!!

I hope that you get through your writers block soon, I know you will because you are so talented that block won't keep you down long! I'm truly excited to see how you continue and end this journey for these people.

Thank you again and looking forward to your return! I'll be checking every day!!! (Seriously I will, I'm that obsessed by your stories!) time to re read 521 and 522 for the umpteenth time!!

Candy Fi :hug:

Hi Ms. April!!

I have been following your stories. I've been a silent reader (hmm maybe at times lurker ) but I have been impressed with your work. I am very new to fanfic writing, and taking a jab with roswell....but i'm super nervous. I just wrote my first fic a Detour in Vegas, and it's no way near your work, but I definitely look up to you and your writing!

I'm not liking where this has ended, but you have written it beautifully! I can't think of how it will get better for Maria and Michael after the end of your sequel. I wait with baited breath for the third installment.

Hope you write soon.

-------Santi

Please come back with a sequel to right all of the wrongs left at the end of this story!

Hi April!

How is everything going? Any idea when you will be back with the next instalment? So eager to find out what happens next!!

Fi