Roswell Fanatics

Amazing, beautiful banner by RoswellOracle, thank you so so much!



Title: Over the Hills & Far Away
Author: jake17
Couple: M/L
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell
Summary: Two lives intersect when a struggling sensitive artist comes across a beautiful young girl who has lost her way.
Author’s note: This story is being written for and dedicated to Michelle17, (Courtney), who came to my rescue when my fic Vanished disappeared from the site a while back. Having saved it all, I was able to repost. Thank you so much Courtney! I hope you like your story



Chapter one





Waking up in the morning to the smell of freshly baking bread, and pastry, is just one of the benefits to living over a bakery, it also didn't hurt that the rent was dirt cheap, and close to the school that Max had been attending for the past three years.

Sighing as his feet the floor, he told himself this as he looked around his one room tiny loft, filled mostly with canvases of finished and unfinished paintings, not to mention thousands of sketches taped to every wall of the room.

It was a small sacrifice to Max knowing that it meant that he could live his dream of becoming an artist.

Rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes, he grabbed his cell, realizing that he was running late for the first class of the new semester.

Having just twenty minutes, he fell backwards throwing his blankets over his head, exhausted from his shift at the bakery downstairs, and his work on his latest piece that kept him up most of the night.

In a perfect world he would spend every waking moment working on his passion, his reason for living, his total devotion to his art, but he had to survive, which meant getting very little sleep.

His art was the only thing that he felt connected to ever since he was a child, and for that he would give up anything.

With his mother passing away from cancer when he was just ten years old, leaving him with a very depressed single father, Max struggled to find a release from his pain, a way of handling such an overwhelming loss at such a young age.

By the time he reached middle school he was really struggling, locked in his own private hell, living with, now, an alcoholic father, under very poor conditions, he was desperately drowning until a kind teacher took him under her wing.

Learning of Max’s issues, Mrs. Trainer, his English teacher, came up with an idea to help him express his feelings in a positive way.

Introducing him to her husband, who was a very well know artist in the community, and also a professor who taught art at the local high school, Max was introduced to a whole new world.

He began taking private lessons in several mediums of art; photography, painting, sketching, sculpture, and the list went on.

Besides being exceptionally bright, Max was intensely sensitive, an intuitive, kind boy who immediately showed promise.

The extreme relief Max experienced from transferring his pain, and deep feelings into his work, made him see the world in an entirely different, and most positive way, completely changing his life for the better.

Years later, with help from a scholarship, and several donations from the artistic community who had really grown to care and respect him, Max found himself attending the renowned Rhode Island School of Design.

Over the past three years he had made incredible strides, his eye for deep emotional pain, and the beauty found in human frailties, in all forms, was well known throughout the school, and art circles alike.

He was dedicated to his work and growing as an artist, putting all his energy into proving those who believed and helped him throughout the years, that he was very appreciative of all their efforts.

Living through such pain caused him to be an incredibly empathetic, and kind person, passionate beyond words, a man who would do anything for someone suffering.

He understood that childhood tragedies often resulted in one of two endings, a downward spiral of despair, that mirrored their pain, or becoming a force of nature, someone who is strong enough to handle anything, and kind enough to understand the difference between those that couldn’t, that were stuck in darkness.

Max often volunteered to paint background sets for the local theater, and taught free art lessons for kids at the local rec center for an after school program.

He wanted to give back, to help those in need, just as he was helped, Max wanted to change the world through the beauty of art.

Grabbing his satchel full of paints, brushes and sketch pads, he took off down the long winding stairs that led to the alley between the bakery and a small diner.

Unlocking the chain from his bike, he took off for the two mile ride to school.

It was spring, and after the longest, coldest winter on record, everyone was basking in the warmth of the sun, a sight that New Englanders felt they hadn’t seen in forever.

Sipping on his coffee along the way, Max kept noticing all the flowers, and trees that were just starting to bloom, the fragrance of lilacs and tulips filled the air, giving him hope that today’s class would center around still life in nature.

~~~~~~~~

“Liz! Answer your cell phone before I throw it out the goddamn window!”

Groaning from a widely nightmarish hangover, she regretfully forced opened her mascara smudged eyes, squinting as the morning sun beamed inside her large floor to ceiling windows, of what most would describe as her parent’s mansion.

Fumbling for her cell, which continued to non stop ring with loud techno beats, over and over again, she brought it slowly to her ear, shielding her eyes from the all too bright annoying sun that she hated more than life itself.

Straining to speak she managed to get out a soft, aggravated, “What?!” before realizing that she was still in her clothes from the night before.

On the other end was her current boyfriend Jack, who was all to happy to remind her of the bet she made, late into the wee morning hours at a local club.

“You have exactly twenty minutes to make it that school, and don’t even try pretending that you don’t remember losing last night, because Piper has it all on video babe. Don’t feel bad though you only lost by three shots.”

Confused for a moment before the hazy night came flooding back, Liz shot up in bed holding her throbbing head.

“No fucking way! Jack! You can’t expect me to go through with this! For fucks sake if my parents find out they’ll cut me off for sure this time, besides I can barely move, what hell did you give me last night anyway? I feel like hell.”

Laughing with absolutely no concern for her, Jack reminded Liz what would happen if she didn’t follow through with the challenge that she lost.

“Never mind all the excuses, if you don’t show up for this class, you’ll owe me two grand sweetheart.”

Throwing her cell on the floor, disgusted with herself, yet once again, she dragged her aching body into the shower, knowing that there was no way she could ask her father for another two grand, not after getting arrested the week before for public intoxication.

As it was her parents were barely speaking to her, they were beyond humiliated that the daughter of Republican, Senator, Jeff Parker was constantly on the news for her partying, and multiple run ins with the Rhode Island and Massachusetts Police Department.

With her older sister, Alyson, in medical school, and her brother, Ben, studying Law at Yale, Liz, who was currently taking a break from her first year at a local community college, was without a doubt the black sheep of the family.

As far back as she could remember, she just never fit into their perfect expectations, refusing to change herself to live by their conservative views, or strict religious beliefs, she rebelled every chance she could.

The Parkers, embarrassed by their daughter, decided that tough love would be the best way to handle her.

Liz spent her senior year of high school away at a ‘boot camp’ type of educational, character transforming, locked down institute where she suffered horribly.

Loved and accepted by the only person in her life, her grandma Claudia rescued her after a year of desperate letters describing horrible conditions, and punishments for breaking their impossible rules.

Feeling somewhat responsible for her near mental breakdown, they allowed her back home, where she was looked after and protected by her grandma until her sudden death a month ago.

Devastated, Liz took a terrible turn for the worse, she was barely home, partying all night and sleeping all day, she had all but given up on life.

What was worse, her Grandmother left a will leaving a substantial trust fund for Liz, on the condition that she attend some type of training or classes, if not she wouldn’t be able to obtain her money till the age of thirty five.

Worried that she would do something destructive with her trust fund, it was her father that forced her grandmother’s hand in this decision.

Convincing her father that she was still grieving for her grandma, he agreed to defer her first year at the local community college, where she had intended on beginning on this very day.

If everything wasn’t bad enough, the real problem in her life was her current boyfriend, Jack Speck.

Liz’s choices were disastrous on a major scale, but being mixed up with Jack was her worst one to date.

With a few years spent in Juvie, and a short stint in prison, for several DUI’s, he was obviously with her because of her family name, and all the perks that came along with it.

Because she was not currently in school, her father took control over her money, allowing her an allowance that to many was generous, but considering the amount of her trust fund, was definitely within reason.

The only problem was Liz spent it as fast as she got it, and was always struggling at the end of the month, which it was.

Already in debt with her father for her bail, Liz had no way of paying off her bet with Jack, which meant she had no choice.

On the outside Liz appeared to be a spoiled, rich kid, with no respect for anyone, including herself, but on the inside she was just a confused, aimless girl, who truly hated herself.

After barely making it into her Mercedes, Liz drove to the prestigious college, dreading every second, knowing that this was going to be the end with her parents if they found out, the straw that broke the camel’s back so to speak.

Lost, Liz wandered the halls wearing an over sized tee shirt and sweatpants, while her feet scuffled around in flip flops.

With just a hint of blush, mascara, and a touch of lip balm, she was a far cry from her usual heavily made up face and designer clothes.

Just as she was about to give up, she found the classroom she was looking for.

Leaning her forehead against the door, she sighed deeply, dreading this, in complete disbelief that she ended up in this position.

Her stalling ended when the door whipped open, finding her face to face with an elderly woman with bright red hair, and horn rimmed glasses that were perched on the end of her nose.

Looking like a flower child straight out of the sixties, Mrs. Penelope ushered her in quickly.

“You are our model I presume?”

Nodding, she was struck speechless as she circled the room feeling ten sets of eyes staring at her from behind large easels holding blank canvases.

‘Holy shit, Jack you are fucking dead.’

Liz’s inner voice was suddenly blocked out by Mrs. Penelope as she pointed to a circular stage in the middle of the room.

The students surrounded her, in a u shape formation, on three levels, it was beyond intimidating.

“We’ve already lost ten minutes dear, and this is our first class studying the human form, so if you please.”

Liz’s eyes widened as she crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest.

“Umm, exactly what is it that you want me to do?”

Rolling her eyes, the professor flipped through the contract that somehow had Liz’s signature attached to the bottom.

“It says here you are a professional model, so I’d like you to change behind the screen, you’ll find a robe, you’ll need that for when the students take breaks and such, but we are running very behind so if you’ll be so kind as to get ready, I’ll continue my discussion with the group on shading and the nude form concerning impressionism.

Walking slowly behind the screen Liz nearly had a heart attack, at no time did Jack mention nude modelling, that was never part of the deal, no amount of shots could make her forget that very important detail.

Fumbling with her clothes she realized just how stuck she was, Jack had a way of getting what he wanted, and if he didn’t he made you pay.

With her last name, and her checkered past, the media was constantly looking for the next story on her, if she didn’t do this, Jack would surely go to some rag magazine, having no problem selling her out.

The school had a strict anonymity policy that the students were bound by, so that wasn’t an issue if anyone were to recognize her, it was Jack that was the problem.

Liz was backed into a corner, without a viable alternative she reluctantly undressed.

Emerging behind the professor with her robe tied tightly around her waist, she stood nervously shifting from one foot to the other, with her eyes firmly set to the wooden floor.

Halting her conversation with the class, Mrs. Penelope helped Liz onto the platform encouraging her to sit on a stool that was placed dead center.

Squinting, trying to figure out what she wanted her students to practice that day, she began to lower Liz’s robe down so it hung off her back.

Her heart raced as she clung to the material that she was still able to keep snug around her breasts, while the professor instructed her to turn her back to the students, and look over her shoulder.

With her long dark hair still wet from her shower, Penelope angled it down her spine lifting her chin so her head was held high.

“Straighten up as much as possible dear, you are engaging the viewer, inviting them into your personal thoughts, there is no shame involved here, you are beckoning someone you have loved from afar… this is a sweet innocent moment, you are divulging a secret, one of longing and curiosity, a wish to an unrequited love.”

Not understanding a single word uttered from the old lady, Liz did her best to stay still, just as the professor had positioned her, counting the seconds until this would be over.

Helping her, Penelope stepped in front of Liz one last time to lift her chin a bit higher.

“Please dear, they need to work on the emotion in your eyes, focus on the center seat on the third level of the student behind you. It’s important that you keep your gaze fixated on that point for our artists to have time to create their own personal perspective.”

Shaking slightly now, Liz pressed her hands to her chest keeping the robe in place as it fell down to the lowest point down the small of her back.

Trying her best, she searched for the spot that the teacher wanted her to focus on.

Third level, center seat.

It was then that Max moved slightly to the right of his easel, with his brush in hand, exactly where she was told to keep her focus, and not move.

Locking eyes with him, her lips parted slightly, desperate for some air to her lungs, she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

Staring at her intensely, Max felt the world fall away until the only person that existed on this Earth was the frightened, vulnerable beauty looking back at him.

Unable to handle the very personal way he was studying her, Liz tried to avert her gaze, but was quickly corrected by the professor who was standing nearby.

The other students around him immediately began to paint, looking at her in short bursts, concentrating more on their canvas then on her, but he was different, he took his time.

It was as if he was memorizing her, burning her to memory, the curve of her hips, the gentle slope of her spine, the way the light reflected in the deep onyx shade of her expressive pained eyes.

It was too raw, too intimate, boarding on intrusive, even though she was, for all intensive purposes still covered, she felt truly naked under his fervent perusal.

After several minutes he finally began, using long broad strokes, he worked slow, blending, shading, flashing his eyes back to her with delicate purpose as if he was putting his heart, his own private feelings into her portrait.

Clutching the thin robe tightly, she couldn’t help wondering what it was that he was seeing, it made her anxious, lost as to why he seemed so transfixed on her.

She froze as she heard Mrs. Penelope’s voice, she was standing behind the student with the fiery amber eyes, looking down at his painting.

“How interesting Max, your perception of her is completely different than every other student in the class.”

Leaning down to get a closer look, she shook her head truly moved, needing to get a tissue from her smock to dab away tears that were welling in her eyes.

“Max, it’s beautiful, your rendition of her … it’s just so… tender… it’s as though she’s been left completely exposed… so exquisitely vulnerable.”

Liz could feel the Vodka in her stomach now, this was more than she could take, she thought that she’d be embarrassed, even bored, it never occurred to her that this would affect her on such an emotional level.

As soon as Penelope announced that class was ending, and that everyone should cover their work and clean up, Liz threw the robe back up over her shoulders, and ran towards the screen to quickly get dressed.

Pulling her damp hair in a messy ponytail, she took off for the door only to be stopped once again by Ms. Penelope.

“You did a wonderful job, we’ll see you Thursday morning, same time sweetheart.”

Turning around slowly she found herself looking up into the eyes of the artist who she was forced to stare at for the entire hour.

“T-Thursday?”

Giving her a gentle smile, Max slipped by her to get to his next class.

“Why yes, the contract you signed was for every Tuesday and Thursday for the next three months.”

Great Chapter!!!! Please please please please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max and Liz. I'm glad that Max found a creative way to show is emotion. I hate Liz's boyfriend. I hope she dumps him really soon. I can't believe the way Liz's parents are. Hopefully Liz will be able to change. And hopefully Liz's family will change a little too. I wonder when Max and Liz will meet again. And what will happen when Max and Liz see each other again.

From:
L-J-L 76

Great start Carrie! Can't wait to see what happens next.

As always Carrie, you continue to amaze me with your new direction.
First, as to Max.......I couldn't live over a bakery......but Max can work out like crazy to keep his physic.
I can see Max as an artist....and I'm sure he can transfer his personal pain in a positive way.
His volunteer work is "so Max-like".
Now for Liz, the "mascara smudged eyes".......once again perfect descriptions.
Oh dear........a contract to be a nude model.......bet Jack will soon be dead over this!
And of course Max would do a different rendition from other members of the class.
This is going to be great!
Carolyn

Such a special Liz, spolied, alcoolic and not really happy about it all, and I think her boyfriend did her something good, as he enrolled her to be model!

I just hope it will finally help change her life style! EVE

Hi Carrie,

I'm in love already with the story. I love Max living over the Bakery and I feel bad for both Max and Liz. I can't wait for Max and Liz to meet officially. I love Max can see Liz. I bet Liz can see him too. Please post more soon.

Great start. I don't know if I should feel bad for her or not lol. So I guess that's perfect

Lizzie
Carolyn
Eve
Courtney
AlysLuv

Thank you so much for your feedback!


Chapter two


Max couldn’t help but catch the new model’s surprised reaction when hearing that her contract was for twice a week for the next three months.

Looking back at her distraught expression, he reluctantly took off, realizing he was now late for his next class.

The rest of the day Max was distracted, lost in the thought of this girl, often finding himself looking out the window rather than paying close attention to his professors as usual.

He couldn’t get his mind off of her, with her ebony eyes that practically whispered of a vulnerability he hadn’t witnessed before.

She was burned in his mind, he pictured her sitting on her tiny stool shivering, the bone structure of a tiny bird, elegant but frail, hiding behind an armor that was used to fool people, but to Max she was transparent.

It was clear she had been through the wars, it’s easy to spot a fellow wounded soldier, only he had won his battle while it appeared that she was in the middle of hers.

Her outside beauty was evident, you’d have to be blind not to notice, but what really held his interest was the person hiding inside, pretending for the world, hating every second that her lungs breathed in the air around her.

To someone as sensitive as Max is was painful to watch, but it was even more heart wrenching to capture on canvas, the lost girl, screaming for help with deafening silence.

Max had watched the other students paint her, they concentrated on the rich dark chocolate color of her long hair, desperate to get the curve of her body just right, in relation to the way her arms wrapped around herself.

Max on the other hand was fascinated by her struggle to remain still, the strain on her muscles as she trembled in an effort to keep her chin high amongst the obvious shameful, self hatred that welled with tears in her big eyes.

She was barely making it through each second, to be on display, there for all those prying eyes to see, terrified that they would really see her, the real person drowning inside.

There was rawness about her, an endless void that drove him nearly to jump off the teir he was on and cover her, even carrying her away from what she so feared, the feeling of being exposed, found out.

Such a void inside her, it seemed endless, like a black hole in the middle of her chest, sucking the life from her, stealing her light.

Having no idea what tormented her, feeling as if it wasn’t his place to get involved, he did what was expected and painted what he felt not what was visually obvious to the common person.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking into the student dining hall, Max grabbed an orange, and a water needing to kill fifteen minutes before riding home to start his shift at the bakery.

That’s when he saw her, huddled in the corner, arms crossed protectively across her chest, one knee pulled up bracing her foot on the chair, while she gazed out the window, looking as if there was a way to jump she would.

He stood there studying her, debating whether to find the nerve to talk to her, before he knew it he was standing close to her, wondering how he got there, staring down into those eyes, that were now hidden behind large sunglasses.

“H-Hi, remember me… third row, center seat guy?”

Lowering her glasses, Liz stiffened, immediately bringing her foot down from the chair, while pushing it outward as an invitation for him to sit.

He studied her emotions as he sat across from her, unable to keep himself from looking at her through the eyes of an artist, noticing the way she tilted her head slightly to the side and gazed down whenever she was thinking, as if worried she would say the wrong thing.

“So, are you always the focal point for the models? Or does Ms. Penelope have a thing for you, because I’m thinking she’s just a control freak who plays favorites, maybe, to who I've found out, is the best artist in this school.”

Lowering his head, Max nervously began to peel his orange, embarrassed by such a remark.

“Why would you think that?” he muttered, having absolutely no ego, ashamed by such an implication.

His voice was soft, laced with a kindness she hadn’t come across in her life, she found it hard to trust, she never met anyone who didn’t have an angle, and she was sure she still hadn’t.

“You’re kidding right? I’ve only been here half a day and I know you’re their crowning achievement, their golden boy so to speak.

Carefully placing the orange peels on a napkin, Max avoided her glare, clearly uncomfortable with talking about this subject.

“Art is subjective, it’s open to anyone’s interpretation, I'm sure there are many who think I'm far from talented. I’m here to learn, just like everyone else here.”

Removing her glasses completely to see him better, Liz wondered if this guy was for real, growing up in her family, competition, ambition, and accomplishments were all that mattered.

His avoidance of acknowledging his obvious gifts was baffling to her.

“Really? And how did you ‘feel’ sitting up there judging me, staring at me half dressed? Tell me your subjective view of me.”

Bracing herself for a harsh opinionated beating, subconsciously feeling as if she deserved it, waiting for him to validate everything she felt about herself, she leaned in closer forcing him to look up from his orange peels, that he was neatly laying down in row on a napkin in front of himself.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable doing that, it's really a personal - "

"Seriously? As your subject, I think it's my right to ask such a personal question, unless you really don't have an answer to give, because honestly I would respect that more than hiding behind some artistic moral high ground."

Lifting his warm golden eyes he hesitated for a moment needing to chose his words carefully.

“Well, there’s the obvious, your beauty is something rare, the contrast of your dark hair and eyes against your pale skin, and the natural soft pink hue of your cheeks and lips is simply striking to the eye, but that’s just the surface, it’s not all I see, not what’s important anyway.”

Hardening her stare she cocked her head to the side, ready for the blow. “And what is important to you, Max Evans?”

Taken a back that she knew his full name, he decided to be truthful, hoping that she would find what she was looking for, and not hate him for it.

Standing, Max pushed the orange slices in front of her, a sweet offering, while he slung his bag over his shoulder.

“I see someone who’s afraid, who feels very much alone. A girl who’s been hurt immeasurably, and what’s worse feels very deserving of that pain, but like I said, art is personal, open to the viewers interpretation, entirely subjective.”

Liz froze, her wide teary eyes focused on the bright orange fruit at her fingertips, as his words lingered painfully in his wake as he left the dining hall.

~~~~~~~~


The next few days Liz received several texts from Jack, mostly crude jokes about baring it all, and how much these paintings of the Senator's daughter would pay, or more likely how much the Senator would be willing to pay to have them not seen.

She wasn’t sure how, but he had eyes on her, which is the only reason she dragged herself back Thursday for her second session.

Hardly sleeping at all, Liz thought about what Max had said to her, the more she thought about it the more defensive and angry she became.

Determined to prove him wrong on his presumptuous dissection of her entire being, she worked on herself for hours.

Walking into the classroom, she heard the students chatter screech to a halt as once again all eyes fell to her, this time in an entirely different way.

Standing up straight with no help from anyone, Liz flicked back her styled hair revealing her smokey eyes and bright red lips.

Unable to help herself she glanced up at the third row, center seat with curiosity.

Shocked at his reaction, Liz shifted nervously, adjusting her expensive bag over her shoulder.

His glance was momentary, even dismissive, as he disappeared behind his easel to organize his paints and brushes.

Chewing on her bottom lip anxiously as a wave of whispers swept across the room in obvious regards to her appearance, she found herself being ushered into the hall by Ms. Penelope.

“Oh dear, Ms. Parker, what have you done to yourself ?”

Confused Liz shrugged, “What do you mean, last time I was a mess, my hair wasn’t done, I had hardly any makeup on… I thought this is what you’d want.”

Shaking her head as she led her to the bathroom across the hall, her professor seemed impatient but oddly empathetic.

“No, no this won’t due at all. Liz please remove all that gunk from your face and brush that stiff hairspray out of your head, this is an Impressionism class.”

Noting the blank stare reflected back at her the professor sighed at her ignorance.

“You know, Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir… well surely you've heard of Van Gogh?”

“Oh my god, I’m not an idiot, I know what you’re talking about, I just don’t understand what that has to do with me looking like I just rolled out of bed.””

Holding the crystal that was made into a necklace around her neck, Ms. Penelope calmed herself.

“Liz, I think I know what the problem is… I’ve been made aware, that you may have been coerced into signing a contract with the school. Considering the circumstances, it is early enough for us to get another model, it’s obvious you’re not comfortable with our subject matter and it’s important for our students - “

“Give me five minutes, I’ll be ready. I’m perfectly capable of handling this job. I promise you there will be no more misunderstandings.”

Leaning back skeptically, Penelope nodded, handing her the robe, before closing the bathroom door behind her.

Taking a deep breath Liz stared into the mirror for several seconds, knowing it was Max who talked to the professor, maybe even told her of his thoughts regarding her fragile emotional state.

Furious, Liz began to remove her makeup and brush out her hair, before fully undressing and slipping into the robe.

She knew what would happen to her if Jack didn’t have proof of their agreement.

Convincing herself that this arrogant, self righteous student, had no right telling her who he thought she was, Liz marched into back into the classroom to the waiting stool on the small round platform.

Staring over at Penelope, getting instant approval of her metamorphosis, Liz lowered the robe down to past the small of her back, to look over her shoulder, with her chin held high.

Defiantly casting her stare to the third row, center seat, she found his warm amber gaze immediately intensely watching her.

Parting her lips, taking a shaky breath, she let go of the robe letting it fall to her waist, giving the students a perfect side view of the swell of her bare breast.

The tension was palpable in the air as she straightened her posture, giving Penelope a quick glance before fixating on his eyes once again boldly, desperate to prove a point, not only to him, but more importantly herself.

“I’m ready professor.”

Liz, Liz, Liz, Max isn't the one who told. I got a feeling that it was that no good Jack!

I can't believe Liz didn't take the opportunity to exit when she was given it........
It will be interesting to see what she wants to prove to the guy on the third row.
So Max is the golden boy in the class?
What, Liz is a senator's daughter, now this is going to get very interesting.
Great update Carrie,
Carolyn