Thank you sooo much, Lilac Stardust! I love it!!!
Dancing With Tears In My Eyes
Author: Me, Anais Nin, a.k.a. Lynn
Disclaimer: I don’t own Roswell, I’m just using it (but not misusing it, like JK and the rest! ::evil glare:: Or maybe I am misusing it in this fic. Could be. It’s kinda messed up.)
Summary: Max’s leaving. It’s sad.
Category: M/L, AU (I think. I suck at choosing those things, but seeing Tess didn’t kill Alex and all, I’d say AU) and it’s a one-parter.
Dancing With Tears In My Eyes
A long sigh escaped Liz’s throat as she sat down. She felt broken. Not only physically, but also emotionally. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She’d cried too much the last couple of days, the last couple of months. Max and Tess were together. She’d seen them, holding hands at the cinema. It sickened her to her stomach. It shouldn’t be this way. It shouldn’t. And then there were Alex and Isabel. It seemed as if Isabel finally began to see what a great guy Alex was.
“Babe, I’m heading home, ‘kay?” Maria called from the backroom. Liz nodded, even though she knew Maria couldn’t see her. She heard the backdoor slam shut, and winced at the loud sound.
Even her friendship with Maria seemed to go wrong. What had happened to them? Everyone seemed to be happy. Everyone but her. Michael had given way to his feelings for Maria. Max had, after a lot of pressure, chosen for Tess. Isabel had finally found Alex. And Kyle? He had found Buddha, and depended on his faith. Liz was just a leftover, an unwanted appendix to their little group. It didn’t matter that she was the one who’d brought them together. She was undesirable. A burden. A memory of their troubled past.
She sighed again and buried her head in her hands. Everything seemed so useless, without any meaning. No one cared for her. No one wanted her. She wept softly, afraid someone would notice. She might as well scream on the top of her lungs. Nobody would notice anyway. Nobody would care.
A soft song started to play, and startled, she looked up. Across the cafe, Max stood, his face etched with sadness, pain and sorrow. She didn’t understand. Magically, a red rose appeared in his hand. She still didn’t understand. What was he doing here? Why did he look so sad, as if his life was falling apart? Was he sorry for being with Tess? Did he want her back?
She blinked once, and when she opened her eyes again, he was gone. The song still played, and a red rose lay on the counter. She did the blinking trick again, expecting the rose and the music to disappear. But the trick didn't work the second time around. The music played on and the rose was still there. A forgotten tear trickled down her cheek and formed a small puddle on the floor. She slowly stood up, heaving another sigh. Her skirt cascaded down along her legs and briefly caressed her calves. As she crossed the room, she noticed a red spot beneath the rose. Blood. A single blood drop still stuck to one of the rose’s thorns and glistened brightly in the pale light of the street lamp from across the street.
Looking up, she tried to see where Max had gone. Was he here, invisible for her human eyes, hidden by some sort of shield? Did the tendrils of a mindwarp veil him, or did they cloud her eyes? She softly whispered his name, but didn’t get a reply or an answer. Finally, she picked up the rose, her fingers carefully holding the stem. And as realization dawned on her, she fell to her knees.
How could he do this to her? How could he? How could he leave her here?
She inhaled deeply – her throat emitted a raspy sound – and tried to keep from crying. He was still there, watching her. She could feel his gaze on her, she could feel his despair. Her fingers reached for the edge of the table, and she pulled herself upright, staggering back in confusion. No longer feeling the warm tears running over her face, she purposefully walked towards the counter. Her journal still lay there, unopened and untouched for months, but a fondled memory of times long gone. Her fingers slowly traced the dark red binding, remembering all the times she’d written in it. It did not only contain a part of her past; it contained a part of her, of her feelings, her emotions, her love.
“Max?” she hesitantly called out for him once more, though she knew he wouldn't appear. He wouldn’t be able to go through with this if he did meet her, he knew that. “I uh…” she cleared her throat, unable to speak because of the salty lump of tears was blocking it up. “I want you, to have this. It em…” She took a deep breath, and looked around, her gaze lingering on every object in the room. Where could he be?
She caught sight of a translucent shim in front of the window, and briefly felt as if she could sense his presence there. But she couldn’t sense him, she quickly rationalized. That was impossible. She was just hoping it was him, that it wasn't a trick of the light, that she wasn't hallucinating. Maybe longing so much for him was finally driving her crazy.
She kept looking at the same spot - the place before the window - nevertheless, and placed her journal on one of the tables surrounding her. “It will explain,” she significantly said, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Would he accept it? Would he take it with him? Did he still love her? “Everything,” she stressed, feeling more and more desperate with every second that passed. The shade didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her words, didn’t do a thing. It didn't disappear either. She didn’t really know what to say. She felt like a fool, standing in the middle of the restaurant, talking to an invisible fantasy.
With a last, longing look, she turned on her heels, grabbed her bag from the counter and exited the main room. An uniform was thrown over the couch, and she recognized it to be her own. Funny. She couldn’t remember leaving it there. Maybe she really was going insane. After picking it up, she waited quietly, muffling her sobs with the apron of her uniform. Fifteen minutes had passed, and the cafe was still as deserted as ever, the shade hadn't moved and her journal was still there. She sat down on the couch and laid her head back against one of its pillows. Immediately, she fell asleep, sheer exhaustion claiming her body and taking her to a world of dreams filled with sadness.
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The next morning, she woke up to the shrill ringing of the phone. The muscles in her neck complained with every move she made, and it took her a whole minute to reach the phone. “Liz? Is that you?” Liz pressed her eyes closed and lightly shook her head. “Ye-yeah,” she managed to say, confused why Maria was calling her at seven in the morning. Her panicked voice worried her even more. “What’s wrong?”
A torrent of words followed, but Liz didn’t listen any longer. Yesterday night came back to her. The music, the rose, Max. All of a sudden, she remembered it. The phone dropped to the floor, the green carpet now obligated to listen to Maria’s shrieks and cries.
Slowly, Liz opened the cafe’s back door, her hand lingering on the metal plate amidst the green wood. She walked into the main room, oblivious to her surroundings, her gaze focused at the booth near the window. The door’s mechanism made it close behind her back. The air the movement blew in her direction caressed her back, and even though the sound of the slam did reach her ears, her brain didn’t register it.
Her journal was gone, just like the rose. A small stain of dried blood was the only remainder of the night before. She reached for it with her index finger, but before she could touch it, a salty tear drop escaped the corner of her eye. It fell apart on the table, and mingled with his blood, its color turning to red. She wiped her finger through it and stared at it a little longer. Then her gaze strayed across the rest of the restaurant, and a feeling of peacefulness washed over her.
Her journal was gone.
He would know.
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~ Lynn xxx