Roswell Fanatics

Title: Longing for Memories
Author: coracat aka Bea
e-mail: BeaNessa@web.de
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, sadly.
Category: Polar Story, mainly focused on Mi/L
Summary: I won't give away anything at all How about so much, it plays in the future after the show.
Dedication: This is for Sarah, who means so much to me; for Joia, who always encourages me; for my sister, even though she doesn't know it. I want to thank Kat, who came up with the title and helped me through the first parts. <b>And also a huge THANK YOU for making this awesome banner! isn't it great? I love it!</b>
A/N: I let someone read it, but it's not really beta'ed. I'll edit this as soon as it is beta'ed, though. I knew I wouldn't have the guts to post it later, so please be patient.
Feedback is always appreciated
I know it's short, but I have three new parts done already




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Part 1

Her finger curved along the rim of her now empty cocktail glass, while her left foot tapped with the beat of song the CD-set played.

I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard
Handful of complaints but I can't help the fact that everybody can see the scars...

She unconciously let go of the glass and touched her stomach. No one could see the scars, they where successfully hidden underneath her clothes, but for herself they were everpresent. They marked her body, imprinted in her forever, letting her never forget but never giving her answers either.

She glanced around in the bar she'd chosen tonight, still having the little hope that someone, anyone would recognize her face.

The dim light gave the small room something mysterious and the round tables, as black as ebony, were decorated with red square candles on metallic plates that belonged to them. The wallpaper was painted in at least ten different shades of red, while black tiles covered the ground.

The waitress passed by, wearing black tight trousers and a red blouse with a name tag on it. The black apron around her waist with the bar's logo on it , a red star, caught the attenion of the lonely girl on her barstool. She wondered whether she'd ever waitressed. Quickly she turned around on her seat to focus on the nearby bartender. Yes she was here to find someone she knew, but drowning in self pity wouldn't help. Those questions she asked herself about herself all day drove her insane.

I am a little bit insecure, a little unconfident
'cause you don't understand I do what I can, but sometimes I don't make sense...

The bartender, a middleaged man with first grey strands in his dark brown hair met her gaze. His fake golden but wrinkled skin spoke for itself: he'd probably spend more time in solariums than in the sun. Her own skin had an olive touch and she wondered where her parents came from. [Don't go there, distract yourself. Stop thinking.]

"One Bloody Mary, please." The girl ordered in a calm but husky voice.

The bartender gave her a small nod and began to mix her drink. But she didn't felt like watching, she'd seen how to make this drink a thousand times, so she fumbled in her purse for her cigarettes and a lighter. Her Bloody Mary was placed in front of her and her old glass had disappeared when she 'd found her desired items.

"Thanks..." she mumbled, but he'd already gone to the other end of the counter, greeting a young man with shoulderlong hair. He wore a leatherjacket and held a helmet in his hand, so she figured he was a biker. The young man waved at the waitress who played with two of the few customers pool. It wasn't late at night, around eleven, but the bar was more or less emty. Local celebration in the cityhall attracted many of the citizens on this friday night.

Nothing she was interested in, she was just passing through, it was just one more awful hole on her way to the east coast. Well, maybe she'd go to Alaska. Or Canada. Or she'd go to Australia. Who knows? [Who cares?]

She wished she could return home, crawl into her bed. But she had no home, and the only thing that waited for her was another night in her car or in an old motel, with one of those spartanic rooms. A bed, a TV, a little bathroom with a shower. Dirty, lifeless; used air. So many people, all of them having a different story had spend their night in one of those rooms before, all of them having dreams, desires, hope.
All she had was hope, hope that would never let her rest, that would lead her through the whole country. Looking back at the last months she wondered why there was still hope in her. But a longing, a craving pushed her forwards, from town to town, telling her she would found finally what she was looking for, asking for salvation.

The young man had disappeared through the backdoor and came out, to the girls surprise, wearing an apron. With a red star of course.

She took out one cigarette and lit it, inhaling deeply.

She couldn't tell why, but looking at him a shiver ran down her spine. Oddly enough, she assumed it was not because of him, but the alcohol that cursed through her body. Thinking about the last time she had had a decent meal, she realzised it had been days. Junk food or a little snack was all she needed to live. And, sadly, at least one Bloody Mary per night.

She just hoped she wouldn't end up trashed like so many nights before, lying weak in a strange arm and telling slurring her sad story. Which only makes people to feel pity. And giving others the advantage to use her. Poor girl. Let's give her a little love. Sometimes she felt like a slut, and glancing at her outfit, a short red skirt with flower print and a white long sleeved blouse that showed enough cleavage to make some horny guys drool, she realised that probably most people saw in her a slut.

She inhaled once again.

Might be true. She seemed to be like one. But she'd never done it with one of those guys who "just wanted to be nice". She'd never go this far, 'cause although she felt like she'd nothing left, she'd never lose her self-respect. That and her pride. She might not have much besides an old car and a few clothes, but she'd never back down. Disappointment and loneliness were her fellows, but she was a fighter. She had no one? True. But she'd gotten so used to the thought, that she'd accepted the fact.

Deep in the thoughts she didn't felt the bartenders eyes fixed at her, disbelief reading all over his face. She only stared at her drink, inhaling once in a while feeling that she dissolved from the surface of this earth more and more.

tbc

<b>Elf</b>, I'm glad you like it! I hope you'll like part 2 as well!

<b>beeeyaaatch</b>, thank you! I like that sort of Liz, too, lol. I hope you'll still like her in the new parts

<b>Karen</b>, good questions, you'll find out soon enough! and I swear it's polar,

<b>Detzer</b>, thank you so much! it's a real compliment for me that you like my writing, considering I'm not a native speaker! On the edge of your seat? wow, that's new for me! enjoy part2!

<b>VanilCoke</b>- this <i>is</i> interesting! I hope you'll like the idea

<b>Kat</b>, thank you so much! First, for encouraging me, second, for reading this again and leaving me fb and third for the wonderful banner. I love it!

~
okay everyone, I'm in good spirits, so here you go with part 2. I hope you'll still like it!
thanks again for the feedback, it makes my day.

and I just have to say it again, check out this awesome banner!!

okay, enough rambling, enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


When he entered the bar, Jack, his co-worker and good friend already waited for him.

"Great you could come, Mike", the bartender greeted him, shaking his hand.
"I wouldn't ask you to do this, but Rina called and said she's already on her way to the hospital with her sister."

"Congratulations, Jack. Now hurry up before the baby's coming before you are there."
Michael gave him a reassuring nudge. When he met Jack and his wife, he learned soon how much they wanted to have a real family, and now, one and a half year later, their dream was about to come true.

"Oh, yea, you're right", Jack nodded, taking off his apron and handing it to Michael, his happiness spreading in a huge smile all over his face. He snatched his car-keys from the counter, heading off, but turning around again.

"Today it's pretty empty, as you can see, but keep a look on Mr. Holden, you know how he can get." Micheal knew, and thanked Jack once again, before his co-worker disappeared in the cold winter-night.

He waved at the waitress, before the young man made his way through the door in the backroom, putting his helmet on the lockers which were as clean as everything in this bar. You could imagine that such a small town bar would be chaotic and nostalgic, with wooden interior; but the owner was famous for his modern style, changing the whole furniture and decoration every five years. Photos on the white wall in the backroom showed the seven other versions of the <b>Red Star</b> over the years.

Michael opened his locker, hanging in his leather jacket and putting on his apron.

With that Amber, the waitress, came into backroom, hugging Michael.

"Hey, great you could come. Is this believable? Rina's getting her baby and <i>I</i> have to work." She put a strand of her short red hair behind her ear, a habit that reminded Michael every time he saw it of someone special, someone in his past.

One thing he loved about this bar, was that they were a sort of big family. Amber herself was like a little sister for him, although Jack had tried several times to bring them together. Michael was never romantically interested in her, just as Amber, who was now in love with an old child-hood friend.

"Yea, it's really unbelievable", Michael answered, "I hope they won't forget to call us when the baby's there. Do you still believe it'll be a baby girl?"

"Sure", Amber answered, making her way back in the bar, "call it female intuition."

"I'll call it luck for me when it'll be a boy- I hope you don't forgot about our little bet. Ten bucks, remember", Michael challenged with raised eyebrow, holding up the door for Amber who rolled her eyes.

"I surely remember, but I hope you don't forget either." She blinked innocently and returned to her guests, to collect empty glasses.

Michael glanced over at Mr Holden, who sat in the left corner as usually. The elderly man wrote frantically on his notebook. Once a journalist who wrote for several magazines, now stuck in his own world, determined to finish his novel, Mr Holden came here frequently; but the more he drank and wrote, the angrier he got over his own misery. Most of the people saw in him a lonely, cynical man, and yet he did nothing to show them his truly kind nature.

Up until now, Mr Holden seemed "peacefully" as Jack liked to put it, and Michael took his place behind the counter taking in the whole bar, greeting the other guests with a small casual nod.

But then his eyes focused on a girl on a barstool, who sat at the other end of the counter, smoking her cigarette, lost in her own thoughts.

Michael took in a deep breath, holding it, not trusting his eye. This couldn't be true, it was impossible.

He could feel his heart beating faster and faster, heat washing over him, as his breath let out a shuddered breath.

[It's just an illusion, a fata morgana; get a grip Guerin. She's dead, gone. Focus or you'll lose it.]

Michael closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, taking a few deep breath. Those eyes. He would recognize those eyes everywhere, how many times had he lost himself in them, had promised that he'll never let her go?

But he had failed, and now his mind played tricks on him.

When he opened his eyes again, the mysterious girl had stood up and walked over to the bathrooms. Michael took in her outift.
A way to short skirt, black high-heels, her long dark hair with light blond highlights and the fact that she'd been smoking, the alcohol she obviously drank- this couldn't be her. This wasn't her style. He was just losing his mind.

He shook his head at his own stupidness. How often had he imagined she'd just walk in, explaining everything.
Although he'd gotten used to the thought that this was just a dream which would never come true, this occurence disturbed him. Sure, he'd tried to ban every thought concerning her, but the memories of her, of them were imprinted forever, and he'd never let go of them. No matter how much they could hurt.

Michael took a few ice-cubes in his hand and held them against his forehead and neck to cool off. He was sure that his cheeks were flushed, and he knew the temperature hadn't caused this.

How he'd missed her. Searched her. Cried for her. How many times had he been sure that he just saw her -that she walked around a corner, that he saw her face at school, in the supermarket, on television.
Desperately wishing she'd come back, launching herself into his arms, promising she'd never do this again, that she'd never send him through complete hell again, after showing him heaven.

He had tried to hate her, to blame her for doing this to him. To her friends, family.
She had had a plan, but she hadn't told him. Why? Didn't she trust him? After all they've been through, and he had believed there were no secrets between them.
And yet, it had happened, leaving him alone, again, after all those promises.

What are words? Words are trivial, he knew it, always knew.

But how can you hate the love of your life, the woman that formed him so much, showed him love and security, and what life is about. But she never said he'd have to live his life on his own.

~
Tired eyes, glassy, lifeless and yet so sad.

Red lips, with new applied lip gloss, covering chapped skin.

Pale face, with rosy cheeks, the flush caused by alcohol.

Smooth, silky hair, framing her face, every single hair exactly in place.

Red gashes on her skin, leaving an aggressive pattern on her forearm.
Fresh, those little cuts were swollen, and she could read them like blind people read braille; proving that she was still alive, that her search wasn't over yet. Her self-inflicted bloody lines, spoke for themselves. Just small, but many cuts, ripped in blind despair into her skin -not deep, but deep enough that blood pooled out of them. Slowely, red, hot, life.

Liz quickly covered her forearm again with the sleeve of her blouse. The cuts hurt a bit, a little but constant pain, reminding her of her own weakness.

The pain would stop when she found what she so desperately longed for, right?

Her reflection showed a weak smile. [Being in full self-pity-mode again, are we] she taunted herself. [Whatever.]

She closed her eyes, proped up on the washbasin, her hands shaking slightly.
What was going on with her tonight. Hell, she'd had worse nights. But why did she sense something else... what was it.. familiarity? Even warmth?

Another smirk spread over her face. She was really losing it. What had been in her Bloody Mary? Whatever it was, she got all giddy, chuckling to herself. But soon tears pooled up in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

Liz brushed them quickly away and returned in the bar to take her seat at the counter, near the alcohol she surely needed now.

Detzer, thank you so much!
Actually, I wasn't sure if ppl would like such a Liz, but I decided to give it a shot. I'm glad you like it!
So, you'd like a new part? Here you go!

Everyone, enjoy, and tell me what you think!

Bea
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
part3

Michael was more than grateful for the distraction when the doors swung open and a bunch of citizens flooded into the bar.

"I'll stand a round!", an elderly gray-haired man with blue jeans and football jacket announced. Being the highschool's coach, he was still in good shape and kept his life pretty healthy, besides of a few beer he allowed himself once in a while.

Pushing all thoughts aside, Michael started to draw the beer, first moistening and cooling the glasses with icecubes, then opening the faucet and letting the froth pouring out, holding the glass under it in an angle to prevent the building of too much froth afterwards. The thing was, he'd done this so much and so often, that he didn't need to think so much at all.
He knew he couldn't be right, but his senses told him to run into the restrooms and confront the girl, to make sure what was going on.

But then she returned, so quick that he'd barely registered her taking her seat again.
[Like a shadow.]
Now, she looked him straight in the eye, but as much as Michael tried to read her face, he couldn't. He would never mistake her eyes, her features, the scar on her eyebrow.. This was probably the first time in his life he was failing words. [No, the second time], he remembered slowely, [I felt like this the day she told me she loves me.]

Michael was in complete turmoil. He couldn't believe his luck, that she was right in front of him, in reach to touch her, to feel her skin under his fingertips. But he could tell something wasn't all right. She was so strange, so different, somehow empty, simply not the girl he knew and loved. Questions over questions formed in his head. But one repeated steadily in his mind. [What happened to Liz?]

"What?", Liz asked, slightly annoyed. [Why's he staring at me like that?] Goosebumps covered her skin under his intense stare. She looked at him confused, he seemed totally in his own world. But what was it about him, that felt so.. familiar? She shook her head slightly as if to get rid of that feeling that overwhelmed her. She couldn't really understand it. She didn't know what familiarity meant.

"Would you do me a favour?", she asked instead, trying to look him no longer in the eye, "Mix me yet another Bloody Mary, please."

[Coming here tonight was senseless.] She was probably about to get the flu, that's why she felt so weird. Not that this matterred at all. [Nothing really matters, right?]

If even possible, Micheal looked even more dumbfounded. It had been years that he'd heard that voice, and although it sounded so different, he wanted to ask her to talk even more. As if she'd heard him, she opened her mouth added something.

"I know I look younger than I am", Liz stated resigned, searching her purse for her ID. He was weirding her out.

Michael confusion grew with every passing second. [What is she talking about? A drink? Her age? What the hell?] But then, the protector came through. Nothing is how it appears to be. Whatever had happened to her, there had definitely happened something. Maybe she was pretending on purpose not to know him, but for what reason?

He wanted to cry out loud. He'd successfully hidden his temper when it was necessary, no more stone-cracking. He had always been careful, fitting perfect in his surroundings. But when it came to Liz, how could he stay calm? But for her sake, he had to.What was she trying to tell him? Taking her ID out of ice-cold hands, he read her name, Shirley Geoffries. He remembered instantly their trip to Las Vegas when he'd given her the name Shirley Temple. And Geoffries probably came from Geoff Parker, her father. He couldn't find any other hint, it looked like a normal ID, but he could tell that it had been manipulated, in all probability Max's work. The ID also read that she came from Florida.

He handed it back, giving her a small nod to tell her that he understood, at least a bit. Liz took it that he was willed to make her drink.

Michael's mind was racing. The FBI? The skins? Other enemies of whose existence he didn't even know yet?

But would it be wise to show up that way, to contact him? He couldn't figure, but he decided to trust her, that was all he could do.

Mixing her drink, Michael glanced around. Was someone here he didn't know? Some stranger? But of course, there was no one.

One question bothered him, so he decided to give it a shot.

"Enjoy, " he said, pulling her out of her thoughts and placing her drink in front of her.
"So, what does a girl like you do all alone in this town?"

Michael always sucked at smalltalk, but he knew that Liz knew that as well. That was the easiest way to dig for some information, asking casually, like bartenders are supposed to.

Liz immediately knew that smalltalk was not his strength. He was probably just trying to be nice, but she couldn't care less. She felt the alcohol in her veines taking over her senses. [Hell, whatever.]

"I'm just on my way to the east coast. Figured it'd easier to travel alone."
Her voice was indifferent.

"But wouldn't it be safer for a young lady to be with someone?" [Why is she making this so difficult for me?]

"You think I couldn't protect myself?"

"That's not what I said."

"But you're thinking this?" [Everyone thinks I'm weak.]

"No, but don't you miss to be with someone, instead of being alone?"

"Who says I'm alone?"

"Tonight you are."

Michael was at loss. In his phantasies a reunion with Liz would have been very different. He couldn't come through. And yet he had thought he knew how to diguise, to pull up walls.

Liz sighed in defeat. "Yes I am." She didn't want to argue.

"What does your family say? Or your boyfriend?"

"Who says I have the one or the other?" [Answering questions with questions. Nice trick.]

"At least you don't look like the type of girl who get's no boyfriend. And I simply thought everyone has something like a family." [Challenge her.]

"Let's say I don't know my family and my boyfriend died. I am alone, just as you quickly found out. Are you pleased now?"

She sounded harsher as she had intended. It was not his fault that her life was screwed up.

Michael took a deep breath, trying to remain casual.
"Oh, I'm sorry about that", he managed to get out. Max was..dead? [How could it be? When did that happen? And why, why did she leave with Max?] Although it had been a reasonable idea, he's always tried ignore the possibility. [Did she leave me, Roswell, everyone for him?]

And yet, why was Max, his brother, dead?

Right in this moment, Amber came with some new orders and since Michael didn't know what to say anyway, he filled new glasses with drinks, as every night.

"When did it happen?"

"What?" He interrupted Liz who tried to lit her cigarette, but her lighter wouldn't work.

"Your boyfriend?"

"About one and a half years." She didn't even bother to asked why he wanted to know that. In such a small town, something like that was probably the strangest thing.

"How?" Michael tried to sound confident.

"Car accident." It irked Michael that she showed no emotion at all, her concentration fully on her damn cigarette. Talking about Max' death like talking about something she read in the newspaper? Although he wanted so badly to tun round the counter and shake her, hug her, kiss her.. anything, he kept up filling glasses, 1, 2, 3.

Finally Liz managed to lit it, and a slightly satisfied expression passed her face. She chuckled softly to herself, without really knowing what was so funny, much to Michael's frustration.

[She couldn't have changed that much, could she? Was her heart so cold?]

"You look like an interesting person. Tell me a lil bit about yourself."

"Hmm. Not much to tell.." he heard that she started to slur.
"Basically, I am just a little girl who knows nothing; not about myself, about my life, about feelings. Well, I think you can sum it up that way."

Liz nodded satisfied to herself. She was a good girl. Tonight she wouldn't give away more about herself. Up until now, it didn't help anyways.

More citizens made their way into the bar, escaping the major's boring speech. New orders came in, so that Michael had not the time to asked her much more. He was totally puzzeled, but he knew it wouldn't help to push any further. At least not now. If he'd only knew what was going on.

Just when he asked Amber to help him behind the counter, the smell of smoke caught him off guard.

"Michael! The fire extinguisher!", Amber shouted, clearly as surprised as he was. But instead, Michael grabbed the bowl with ice-cubes and ran over to Mr Holden, who had decided to burn down his writings, along with the table.

"See what you did with to my suit!" Mr Holden exclaimed irritated, while everyone was silent, watching the scene with interest. Michael had simply poured the watery ice-cubes over the table, putting out the fire, but also making Mr Holden wet.

[Great, gossip for the next few days], Michael thought, raising an eyebrow.

"What about a nice, hot coffee", Michael asked calmly. While he'd been the one who'd easiely lost his temper, he'd learned that it could be smarter to be the one who stayed cool. After all, he knew he couldn't lose it now, and here.

"On the house", he added, making an attempt to guide him to the bar.

"That's the least you can do, after ruining my suit. It's the good one!"
Mr Holden swayed but caught his balance with the little help Amber who'd rushed to his side.
"Always those earthquakes.. there must a reason why they're always at night..", he muttered as he sat down. Amber quickly prepared the coffee, while Michael hurried to finish drawing the beer. The other customers quickly returned to their conversations, especially after they got their drinks.

It was only then when Michael realized that Liz was gone, only the money on the counter left.

tbc....

beeeyaaatch, what do you think did she date? Glad you like this, enjoy part4!

blndie2272, thank you!! and here you go, part4!

tiredmuse, Great you found this and like it! I'm happy that you still read it even though it's hard to see that lind of Liz And yes, Max is dead. Everything will be explained in chapter4... or maybe not everything?


Detzer, wow, thank you so much!
I'm really glad you like it! And I surely enjoy the fb and love to reply to it! When I started to read ff, the writers seemed to be so... far away, ya know? But I'm just me, a regular roswellian, lol. And after all, it still amazes me when ppl like what I write
I rule? wow.. never heard that compliment before...

Okay, here I'll try to explain myself a lil bit. Some of you wondered why Michael behaves the way he does. For me it was simple, he didn't trust. It could have been a trap or somthing like that, plus he was still surprised, plus I needed to find a different place to let Liz explain everything. lol, hope that makes sense. After all, Michael is the careful one, remember. I'm sure Liz and Michael will have a conversation about that later, I'll try to make more sense, then, lol

anyways, thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it and it makes me happy.
Actually, I'm worrying about part4. The solution is so easy that you'll be either surprised ot disappointed. You really need to tell me honestly what you think about it. No flattering when you think it sucks

All the chapters until now where meant to have a basis to come the hardest part: Helping Liz, learning to trust and believe, to have no doubts and to be patient.

bea

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
part4

Michael quickly understood what had happened. Obviously, she'd left, for good.
But yet he knew he couldn't let her go like that. Though the reasonable part in him kept telling him that he was cracking up, Michael knew he had to follow her.

He hadn't confused her with some girl that only had similar features, right?
She was not just a girl with a screwed-up life who reminded him of Liz, right?
It was not just some kind of halluzination the protector in him created to have a justification to help her, right?
Michael shook his head to escape his train of thoughts.

What was he doing here? This was not about him and his cracked psyche, but about Liz, who obviously just sat right in front of him. She was probably in a kind of shock or trauma, which could explain her behaviour. And yet he was only thinking about himself instead of moving his alien ass to pull her out of whatever dark hole she was in?

"Amber, you have to take over", Michael ordered, yanking off his apron and leaving a dumbfounded waitress in the bar.

~
Liz cursed to herself as she swayed her way through the darkness and cold. She had parked her car a few blocks away, because she wanted to walk a little bit when she'd arrived hours earlier. Now, she decided it was too cold, at least how far she was concerned. Wrapping her arms around herself tightly, she wondered whether she'd already passed her car, stuck in her thoughts.
This bartender had behaved somewhat weird. What was it that she felt? Maybe it had been foolish to leave, what has been her reason again?
Her head started to ache, and she knew this could be the beginning of a cold.

[Where is this damn car?] Liz stopped dead in tracks, taking in her surroundings. The street was wet and emtpy, oldfashioned houses framing the scene. The street lamp light flickered and a soft breeze made the leaves wispering. Every other person would have referred to a low-bugdet movie-scene, but Liz only observed, gathering every colour, sound and feature.

Just as she could make out her car, several meters in front of her, a figure made its way in hasty strides toward her.

She shivered, reacting in a way she never did. Normally her emotions wouldn't show any reaction at all, she was never afraid of anything.

The figure arrived her, and in the flickering light Liz could make out who it was- the bartender.

"What do you want?" , she asked indifferent, hiding her confusion. "Did I forget anything?"

"No" , Michael replied, steadying his uneven breathing.
"I came to bring you home."

~*~*~*~*~

Liz automatically stepped back.
"What did you just say?" Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, the adrenaline sobered her up.

She's been waiting for those words for ages. Could it be true? Did he know her?
But then again, why hadn't he shown any recognition earlier?

"You, you are nuts..." Liz waved him off. She must have misunderstood what he just said.

"Wait, Liz, I'm serious... come with me, please. I won't just let you walk away."
Michael held out his hand. He didn't even realize how cold it was. Instead of fishing for the right words, he'd decided to tell her straight want he wanted- taking her home with her, healing her soul. Get to know her again. Finding out what had happened.

"There is so much we need to talk about. So much we missed. Trust me." With that, he held his breath, listening to her breathing.

Liz thoughts were a mess. Was this real? She had longed for it so long, tried to imagine how it would be to find someone who knew her, the girl she had been.

And yet, this situation was so different. It wasn't like in the movies, she told herself.
[I'm not suddenly remembering somthing. I can't shove myself in these strong arms. I can't forget everything and remember anything.] And did he just call her Liz?

Hesitatingly, Liz put her hand in the bartenders, which was just a cold as hers.
"Nice to meet you, " she said, "my name is Shirley."

Michael smirked. "My pleasure. I'm Michael. And now let's get out of the cold before we catch the flu."

Liz eyes traveled once again over Michael body, realizing that he only wore jeans and t-shirt. And realizing once again how much she wanted him to hug her.

Was it the cold? But what was that feeling she had in her stomach so that she didn't want to let go off his hand?

~*~*~*~*~

15 Minutes later Liz found herself on an old comfortable couch, one of those you could sink into, sipping hot fruit-tea. She'd actually asked for a drink, to calm down, but Michael has told her he had no alcohol at home.
On their way to his apartment they hadn't said a word- both afraid to say somthing wrong, both needing a little bit time to adjust the situation.
Michael had left his bike and jacket by and in the bar, deciding it would be the best not to return, since he would have had to explain his sudden disappearance to Amber.

When they'd arrived his apartment -Liz had willingly allowed Michael to drive- he'd quickly called in, telling Amber that something very important had happened and that he'd explain later.

"You better have a good excuse", Amber had answered. But she knew it must be important- Michael was one of the most reliable persons she knew.

Now Michael took seat in the armchair, facing Liz. He just wished she'd start the conversation, instead of focusing her look on the candle she'd lit with her lighter.

Their silence became awkward, so that Michael decided to make the first step.

[How would Liz proceed?], Michael wondered. Normally, this had always helped him, but sitting in front of her made this even worse. Normally he would've asked her to take care of this, but it was all up to him to find out.

"I thought I'd never see you again", Michael freely admitted, breaking the silence.
"Seemingly, you can't remember me, but please tell: what happened and what do you remember?"

He knew this sounded not like him, and his senses told him to do cradle her into his arms and to exchange flashes with her. But he couldn't take the risk to scare her off.

Liz tried to find a more comfortable position.
"Well, um...all I remember is waking up in a hospital about twelve months ago. I had been there for about four months, I was a coma due to a car accident I was involved with. There was a boy about my age in the car, he didn't make it. It was a normal accident, nothing unusual. There were duffelbags with our belongings in it, the nurses made up stories that we'd been running away from home to get married. I couldn't remember anything when I woke up, not my name, not where I came from, not even my face. Nothing. Not even the photo which showed me and this boy helped me to trigger anything. The doctors said that it was normal and that I would remember earlier or later.

"No one came to visit me. They said they couldn't find any relatives, nothing. A police officer talked to me, wanted to know where I got this exellent fake ID from. They couldn't find any trace and soon lost interest. It was just a small town and they were convinced I would remember one day anyways. They gave me a new ID, making it official. They didn't care.

"When I was able to leave the hospital and rehabilitation I got in some program. I got a job, an apartment. I should have been thankful, but I knew when I stayed longer I would lose it. My therapist said I should be patient. I woke up one year ago and still can't remember anything. I took all I had and left. Determined to find some one. To find my past. To find myself."

Liz had been unable to hold Michael gaze, and focused her view on anything but him. She'd told her story several people, but this time it was surely different. This man knew her, and she couldn't get the words fast enough out of her mouth, praying he could assemble the puzzle pieces called her life.

When she'd finished, she swifted her gaze slowely back to Michael, nervous about his reaction.

She could see the emotions running over his body. He obviously had to take a few seconds to get the information straight. His hands were balled into fists and his muscles tense. She wondered how she looked like, observed from his point of view.

"We thought you were dead", she heard him mumble, then she could swear that she saw tears shining in his eyes. But he blinked them away quickly, meeting her eyes.

"There are still things I don't understand, but I think I get a picture now." he sounded indifferent. All the emotions he'd shown earlier being put aside, much to Liz' surprise.

Liz automatically leaned forward, focusing on his mouth, waiting for the truth she'd longed for so long.

"The thing is, I don't know where to start."

How could he explain her whole life in a few sentenses just like she had. There was so much she had to learn again, to cope with. Could he just tell her like it was nothing unusual?

Michael decided to give her a short summary about the normal part of her life, leaving out shootings, aliens and heartbreak.

"Your name is Elizabeth, Liz Parker. You were born to Nancy and Geoff Parker, in Roswell, New Mexico. You have no siblings. Your parents own the local diner, the CrashDown Café. You were a straight A-student. Your hair was shorter, without those highlights."

He played with the rings on his fingers, looking down.

"You were so different. You would neither smoke nor drink. And you wouldn't wear these clothes."

"That girl... I'm not her anymore..."

Liz tugged a strand of hair behind her ear, earning a smirk from Michael.

"She's still there, in you. Do you want to find her?"

"I have no other purpose in life."

The way she said that made Michael shiver.

"Liz was one of those who would do everything for her friends. She would sacrifice everything she has to make them happy. When I met her first I couldn't stand her. She had everything I hadn't."

"Sounds like an interesting person. Judging by the clothes they found and the way I looked like when they brought me in... I always thought I would've been something like a rebel." Liz chuckled to herself. Everything Michael said sounded like a tale about a miss perfect. She couldn't imagine that she'd been like that. She had parents, friends, a home in ...Roswell, of all cities. Liz shifted uncomfortable.

Did she really wanted to hear all that? He would have expectations how she'd be like. He would make no distinction between that Liz-girlie, and her, Shirley.

"I'm not sure if I want to hear more." she saw that Michael got that glint in his eyes, how he tried to find the girl she once was in her.

[I thought it would be easier. I thought I'd be right away <i>home</i>]

She could see Michael's disappointment, but his voice sounded understandingly.

"Okay, I know it's late. We have as much time as we need." He scratched his eyebrow.
"Um, I'll show you were you can sleep and the bathroom."

He quickly lead her through the apartment, and insisted on taking the couch while she'd take his bed. Michael suggested that Liz could take a shower, an idea she surely liked, if only to have a little time for herself. While Michael tidyed up the aparment to make agood impression, Liz got undressed and let the hot water washing away the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Banning every thought concerning Michael, her past and every else that happened tonight, she simply enjoyed the feeling of the water warming her skin.

~
How was this developing? Good? Bad? At least she seemed to trust him. He could tell she was afraid. There was still so much to understand. Maybe he could help her to remember... but he had to be careful. Maybe, upon meeting him, she would finally start to remember, he couldn't tell. He could bring her home, in familiar surroundings. But somehow the thought of sharing her again disturbed him.

[Could she ever be the same?], he wondered, checking the fridge for something to eat. Thanks to Amber, he had always enough and healthy food in there.

[She can't just be someone she doesn't even know.]

He slammed the door shut. He felt responsible for her now. She relied on him, something she never did before.

"Michael?"

He turned around, surprised since he hadn't heard her come.

There she stood, only covered in a towel, her long hair falling in messy locks around her head and shoulders. Her skin shimmered and her cheeks were flushed.
She looked as beautiful as always. Even more mature.

"Could you do me a huge favour? I forgot my bag in the car and all my stuff is in there."

"Sure", Michael managed to get out, still stunned by Liz' beauty.

"I got you the keys." She held out a hand, daring him to come closer, to inhale her scent.
"I used your shampoo and shower gel, I hope you don't mind."

Taking the keys carefully out of her tiny hands, he felt a familiar energy building up.

~~flash~~
Liz sitting in a car, studying her fake-ID.
"I'm not sure... we should have told someone."

"No. They would have stopped us, I can't wait for their permission."
Max looked at her sharply, then his gaze softened.
"Please, Liz. I need you."

"I know..."
~~flash end~~

Michael instantly let go of her hand, snatching the keys from it.
Had she seen it, too?
But she looked at him confused.

"Is everything okay? You were just far away in space."

"Yes, sure. I just remembered something. Nevermind."
Than he excused himself and left the apartment quickly. The flash disturbed him. Could just a simple touch make him receive flashes but not vice versa?
He had seen everything from Liz point of view, obviously before the accident had taken place. She had been in the car with Max... He could not figure out where they had been going to, or why. Just that Max insisted on Liz' help. The only thing that relieved him what that she didn't seem to be so into it at all. But why had she been going with him anyways?

Maybe he could receive more flashes from her, without alerting her.
He shoved this thought aside, deciding to contemplate about that later.

He opened the trunk and heaved out a duffelbag, sadness overcoming him. That was everything Liz possessed now. She'd lived like this about a year, had been alone with no one to be there for her. He couldn't even imagine. Michael brought the duffelbag in, and found Liz in the kitchen, preparing herself another tea.

"I'll take it in the bedroom for you." Michael had just seen the most beautiful back ever.

"That would be great" Liz admitted, following him.

"I hope you don't mind that I..." she made a gesture toward the kitchen , referring to the tea.

"Of course not, feel like you're at home." This words had slipped his mouth and he regretted them immediately.

"I'll get dressed then, I think." Upon this wink, Michael escaped the awkward situation, mentioning he'd take care of the tea.

Liz found her pyjama dirty, since she hadn't done laundry for a while. First she wanted to ask Michael for a shirt, but then she decided not to bother him further and to help herself. He had said she could feel like being at home, so she'd do that. She knew he hadn't meant to say that, but the irony laughed at her. Home? She hadn't even clean clothes to start with.

Opening his closet, she smiled to herself as she found a bunch of dirty shirts, socks and boxers covering the ground. Her gaze travelled through the clothing and she wondered what she might be allowed to wear, when something pink catched her eye. Liz took it out and and the pink cloth appeared to be a pyjama. But obviously not Michaels.

Hurried, she put it back in its place, closing the closet. Why hadn't she thought about that earlier? It was probably his girlfriend's. Just because there were not lots of photos and female accesoires everywhere in here didn't mean a thing.

She couldn't tell why, but a wave of disappointment and jealousy washed over her. What had she expected? What did she expect at all?

Maybe her own pyjama would do it for another night

tbc

Detzer, damn... I thought I could fool you... okay, he loves Liz, dearly. Now you know it for sure, lol!

part 5 is short and I'm not really pleased, but here you go anyway

Enjoy!

part5


Liz woke up with the smell of coffee in her nose, cuddling further into the warm sheets. No nightmare had shaken her awake like so many times before, dreams she couldn't recall afterwards.

She tried to enjoy the blissful moment, but her thoughts wouldn't allow her to.
Where was she again? Oh yea, the bartender, Michael, had taken her home with her. And he said he knew her!
Her heart beat faster in anticipation as she sat up in the bed. He would help her to remember, help her becoming whole again.
[And if he can't?], the nagging voice in the back of her head asked.
[If he plays with you? Tries to influence you? Plays with you mind? Do you want to become so dependent? Do you really want to know who you were? She is not you, you are not her. You'll not only destroy your last hope, but also his.]

"No!" Liz shook her head determined.
[Why shouldn't this be the best thing that could possibly happen? I want answers, so why sitting here instead of getting them?]

Liz head ached a bit, not only from the slight hangover, but also as a result due to her accident. She got up and took a bottle of pills out of her bag.

[No, this is going to be great. This is what I've been hoping for. No more running away.]

Liz smiled, by the mere thought of Michael. He had tried to hide it the night before, but she had clearly seen his vulnerability, even though he had tried to hide it, unsuccessfully. What a wonderful, caring person he must be. He had understood when she needed her rest, he had insisted that she'd take his bed. How could she doubt him?

Quickly, Liz opened the window, letting in fresh but cold air, before leaving the room.

~ ~ ~
I just flipped another pancake when I heard my bed room door getting opened.
Turning around, I saw the most beautiful girl taking a seat at the counter.
Tousled hair, cheek still flushed from the sleep, warm dark brown eyes meeting mine. Her body moved so gracefully, even though you could tell from her movements that she was still sleepy.
She, as a girl, would have said that she looked awful, but I loved her without all the makeup, always did.
To me, she looked like a goddess.
Not that I would admit such a cheesy thought loudly. Ever.

It relieved me to see that she didn't seemed as tense as last night. She even flashed me shy smile.

"Good morning, Michael."

It took me a few seconds before I managed to say those two words, too. Why was so difficult all of a sudden to say good morning?

"Yea, good morning", I managed to get out, feeling like a 15 year-old.
"Coffee?" I quickly added, realizing once again that my small talk sucked.

"Oh, yes, please", Liz took the offered mug thankfully. I had already added sugar and cream, and she looked surprised.

"How could you know.." she trailed off, then got a knowing look on her face. "I see."

She opened a bottle of pills, rubbing her sleeve gently.

"Hangover?" I asked, but I regretted the question when I saw that she looked away, avoiding my eyes.

"It's my head, you know. I need those pills, they are pain-killers. It just won't go away", she shrugged, obviously pretending not to care. I knew better.

I just saved the pancake before it was too late, placing a plate with more than a dozen in front of her.

"I hope you are hungry", I said, watching as a huge smile spread on her face.

"Thank you so much", she said, and it was more than a thank you for the pancakes. It was for my attention, for the gesture itself. I wondered if I could help her remember that this was not the very first breakfast we had like that. If I wouldn't had known better, I would have said that nothing had changed.

I watched her eating for a while before I realized that it's weird to watch someone eating. Even though it was the most surreal thing ever, seeing her right in front if me, enjoying my breakfast.

It was so beautiful and unreal that I wanted to cry, cry in her arms, for her, with her.
But I couldn't do this, I had to be strong for her, patient. My emotions made it hard for me to keep them in check. I had always mastered to hide my feelings, but when it came to Liz, I couldn't. I regained composure, though, for her sake.

I guess that's how life goes, every time you think it's getting predictable it proves you wrong.

~ ~ ~
Summer 2001; Roswell, New Mexico

"Mhhmm, this is so delicious Michael! I didn't even know that you can cook!"
Liz was surprised that the dinner Michael had prepared in his messy kitchen actually tasted that good.
Michael, who had the sudden feeling that he was about to blush, shrugged it off.

"That's nothing, I'm not a good cook. All I ever tried are pancakes."

"Liar."

Michael looked up, surprised to see Liz's stern face. Was she playing with him or being serious? Why did it mean so much to her that he could do some cooking?

"You underestimate yourself, Michael. There might be a lot of people who underestimate you, and that's a shame, but don't you, ever, doubt your talents."

Liz held Michaels hands over the table and squeezed them reassuringly.
Michael, however, was totally taken aback. This girl had, amazingly enough, faith in him. How did he deserve that?

"Michael, don't think I'm telling you this because I think I need to. This is just how I see it, and you should have been told earlier."

Liz saw the disbelief in Michael's eyes and it tore her apart. No one had ever supported him, told him that he was proud of him. Instead, he had gotten used to the thought that he was nothing special, someone with no talents.
But Liz knew better. She had seen him painting and drawing at school, and even though she did not know much about art, Mr Cowan, his art teacher, surely did. And the look on Michaels face when he actually sketched.. his eyes lit up. She'd watched him a couple of times in her spare lesson, and when she had seen him smile she knew it was worth watching him secretly.

And now that she tasted his meal Liz was sure that there were more, many more talents hidden behind that trade-mark scowl Michael used as a mask.

"You really think that, don't you?" Michael said in low voice, needing this last reassurance, although Liz eyes had already convinced him.

"Yes." It was a simple word, but loud enough and determined to reach his mind.

"I love you, Liz. You don't how much your faith in me means to me."

Liz leaned forward, stroking his cheek softly, before confessing:

"I love you, too, Michael."


~ ~ ~

tbc

I know, I know, this part is short.. plus I had planned to post it earlier... hell, yea, I'm not better than the other writers when it comes to that, lol

I hoped you liked that part, leave fb that I can improve, please.
Thanks for you patience, I really appreciate it,

Bea

L.Spencer, I'm glad you like it! enjoy the new part

krissi, thank you, I'm glad you like it!

*MJ*, I'm glad you enjoyed the flashback. Maybe it was a bit too cheesy, but I needed to get this out, lol.

Sarah, sweetie, you're the best. Your fb means so much to me. I hope you'lll like what I have in mind and how I am going to present it. love ya.

A/N:
Hey everyone! Yes, I dare to come back.... and I present you part6, finally.
I know what I said, about updating once a week... and yea, I meant it. But I had to realize that it doesn't work this way, and although I had promised myself to make it better than the other authors who let us wait, I ended up just like them.
I'm not really pleased with this part, it might be a bit confusing, but you'll see. I can always re-write this, right?
now, enjoy it, and nevermind my ranting....

Previously:
Liz was missing, but one night she simply showed up in the bar Michael works at. She suffers from a amnesia, due to a car accident she and Max had. Max died, she survived, but far away from home and with fake IDs no one found her. Michael wants to help Liz to remember who she was, but it's not so easy when you want to leave out the alien part...

Part 6:


"There is something I've been wondering about...pretty much all the time." Liz said, smoking her cigarette on the park bench we both sat on. She had suggested to get some freh air earlier and I had called up shortly on Amber, postponing my explanations a little bit further. She was understanding but also worried and concerned at first. I told her I'd call her later.

"Go ahead", I encouraged her.

"Who is that boy?", Liz asked, her voice low and almost indifferent.
I took a photo out of her hands, and I felt as if someone punched me deep into my guts. It showed Max, standing behind Liz with his arms around her shoulder. Smiling. Loving. Alive.

Max, my brother, was dead. It was official. The last night, Liz' mere presence had distracted me from thoughts I couldn't ban now, when realisation hit me. She had told me that he was dead, had died in a stupid car accident... but she had no idea who he was.

She looked at me so innocently, so unaware of the emotions cursing through me.

What is better, I asked myself, having one of them back and knowing that the other died or having at least the hope, even though they were missing for so long, that they lived somewhere, healthy?

That was the first time I wondered: What if Max had come to me like Liz last night, telling me Liz was dead? How had my reaction been, then? Confusion, shock, but happy to have at least one of them within my reach, alive?
Glad to have my brother back and repressing any thoughts of Liz?
I realized that I cared more about Liz than about Max, and it hurt even more. I knew I was somewhat glad and relieved that Liz was back- and therefore fine with Max' death?
If I had to choose, I would probably choose Liz over Max- did that make me a bad person?
Choosing Liz out of selfishness over reason?

"The nurses gave it to me.. I think I told you before.. I always wondered who he was to me. Did he love me? Did I love him?"

She looked so lost, I guess she realized my turmoil by then. She turned away, ashamed that she hadn't noticed earlier, insecure.
But how could I be mad at her? She couldn't know all this.. she knew nothing. The old Liz would have understood me much faster, but she didn't know how to read me, how to deal with other people's emotions. After months of isolation.

I swallowed and watched her smashing her cigarette with her boot on the ground. Too aggressive, too hard, so unneccesary.

"I'm sorry", I heard her whisper, just loud enough for me to hear it.
I brushed my hair out of my face and looked up again, sighing.

[Maxwell...if you'd only trusted me enough... if you'd told me.. I was supposed to protect you, why wouldn't you let me?]
I knew that all those questions were pointless. If only, if only.. then what? Hindsight can't change things.
But I couldn't help but think: If we'd been on better terms, maybe Max had told me where he planned to go to... maybe I would have been in the car with Max. Maybe then...

A sudden motion next to me brought me out of my thoughts. Liz stood there, her back to me, and I heard the sound of her lighter- she tried, obviously unsuccessfully to lit another cigarette.

I wondered what to tell her. After all, she deserved, needed an answer. Especially now to understand my behaviour. I shrugged off sudden memories and tried to think about an explanation.
'This is Max Evans, your boyfriend' wouldn't really cut it, and 'but hey, not that you loved him, at least not anymore, you and I had a relationship behind his back and were just about to tell everyone before you two disappeared from earth' wasn't the best idea either. 'Oh, but don't feel under any pressure now that you know that I love you dearly and would do everything to make all your pain go away'? [Great ideas, Guerin.]

"He was my brother. His name was Max, and he loved you. But your feelings for him had changed and you were about to break up with him." At least I didn't lie so far. [Leaving things out is not lying, right?]
I stared down at the photo and realized only now that my hands were shaking. I'd betrayed him, my own brother.. at least he died without knowing it. Or did Liz tell him? Was that why he lost control over the car and died? I swallowed hard. I tortured myself, but how could I not?
[Oh my god Izzy... how shall I tell you that he's really dead?] She had always had hope, always held onto every trace.. I knew it wasn't the time to tell her yet. Not without being able to tell her what or more likely how it had happened.

Liz kneeled in front of me, and touched me cheek gently.
"I am really sorry.. I shouldn't have pushed you..." she blinked away a few tears, and I knew that she saw my pain even though I tried to hide my emotions. She always could do that.
Her other hand rested now on my trembling hands, cold.
I didn't even realize it, but my vision got blurry and and I remember that tears rolled down my cheeks and muffled sobs were heard when she held me.

I cried for Max, who died, alone and lost, without his loved ones to say good-bye.
I cried for Liz, who was so lost, so alone in a way, too, who I wanted to reach so badly.
I cried for Isabel, who always told me hold on, to believe, who had this amazing faith in both Max and me.
I cried because of the betrayal Liz and I had commited, and I realized that Max knew now.
I cried because I realized that I had failed, that all of that above was my mistake or a result of my actions.

Then, a familiar energy blinded my senses.

~~flash~~
A hospital room...
"Ms Geoffries? Why didn't you go to your therapy session today? Doctor Patrick waited for you."

"I just don't see the point in talking over and over again about things we both can't know."

"But the therapy could help to trigger something, you need to be patient."

"I.. can't be patient anymore... but listen, did someone call for me? Or anything?"

"No, I would have told you right away, sorry."

"I see..."

Disappointment, frustration....

~~flash~~

"I wish I could have prevented it.. I wish I had known better. If only.. if only I would have acted differently... maybe then..."

..a grave stone, reading 'Alexander Charles Whitman', numerous flowers, sunshine, but everything is only black and white...

"I wanted to protect you all. Why did I fail?"

The scenery gets darker....and fades out.

~~flash~~

"It's not your time, Liz. Your time isn't over yet."

"Don't say that, Alex, don't..."

"Shh.. I'm telling you, you'll go back."

~~flash~~

"Liz, will you help me?"

"I don't think it's a good idea.. yes I'll help you."

~~flash~~

"I think Maria will understand. She's happy with Billy, plus she made comments.. I guess she already knows. She really changed."

"I never thought that this would be possible, but I'm glad for her. When you see their chemistry.. we were just never meant to be."

"I believe you spend way too much time with me, that's my line Michael!"

"Do you really complain?"

"Never."

~~flash end~~


~
One moment I hugged Michael, and the next thing I remember is almost passing out.
I came to my senses again a few minutes later, lying on the bench, Michael's worried face hovering over mine.

"You alright?" he asked me as he helped me to sit up.

"Yea, I suppose", I replied, not really sure what just took place. It felt like I just remember something but forgot it again... and it frustrated me to no end.

The situation became awkward, I didn't know what to say or ask, Michael didn't dare it either.

I realized that helping me was not only complicated and hard on my side, but also emotionally draining for him. It wasn't easy for both of us.

~
We walked home in silence, a total opposite to our walk through the town earlier. She had asked questions and I had told her, about the CrashDown, Maria, school... random anecdotes, and I was surprised how easy talking went. I've never been a man of many words, but talking with her loosened me up somehow. I had asked various questions myself, but she felt uncomfortable to talk about the days at hospital and rehab, so I didn't push any further.

When we arrived my apartment, the smell of spagetthi carbonara welcomed us.
I frowned, not sure how Liz would react. After all, she didn't really trust people, and I wondered how she would react on Amber.

Before I could warn her the door flew open, and Amber stood there smiling with flushed cheeks.

"Hi, I saw you coming down the street, lunch is ready, hurry up!" She took hold of Liz' hand and pulled her inside, who was taken by surprise.

I followed them inside, ready to step in when it became too much for Liz, especially after her breakdown earlier.

"My name is Amber, and you are..?"

"Um, Shirley."

"Nice to meet you Shirley."

"Likewise."

I shouldn't have doubted Amber. She always finds the right words and knows when she pushes to far. She never pressured Liz, told us about Jack's wonderful little baby- girl, that Rina was alright, too and held out her hand to get the ten dollars I had just lost.
She talked about school, that her cat peed on her essay and all the casual stuff. Liz seemed to enjoy it, she smiled and listened carefully, Amber's vitatility affected her in a very positive way.

It turned out that Amber had done the laundry, and apologized about 100 times to Liz for invading her privacy.

Liz shrugged it off, said that it was no big deal, and thanked Amber.

"Michael was so cryptic on the phone, I was worried. When I came here and saw the luggage.. I wanted to do something good. Take is as my welcome gesture, okay?"

"Yes, thank you again. That was really kind."

It occured me that Liz wasn't used that people did stuff like that to her, she was moved and excused herself and went to the bathroom.

"I know what you are about to say Michael, but-"

"No, don't apologize. It's great that you came over." And I meant it. It seemed to me that Amber and Liz would get along well.

"I won't ask questions about things you don't want to tell me", she added.
"I know it's personal and I don't want to scare her off. It's obvious that she went through a rough time."

"You are the best." I told her, and gave her a kiss on the head while we brought the dishes to the sink unit.

When I turned around I saw Liz staring at me, and I couldn't tell what her gaze meant, no emotions were visible.

"I'll take a nap, I don't feel well", Liz confessed, turned on her heal and walked off.

"Oh my..." Amber said.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"You are such a typical male!" She laughed and focused on the dishes again, never telling me what she meant.

~
I found myself in a trashy little diner, the place was crowded and hot. The decoration screamed "Alien" and I immediately remembered what Michael had told me about the CrashDown. It felt familiar here, and I realizised that those impression came from deep inside me, burried almost too deep.

I tried to focus on the people around me, but two arguing patrones caught my attention.

I didn't hear any sound, no music, no voices.

All of a sudden, a gun was aimed at me, and I saw, in slow motion, the bullet making it's way in my direction. I tried to move, but I was frozen.

Then, agonizing pain shot through me and I was pushed backwards and landed on the hard ground, my head connected with the tiles.

My body felt limp and I thought: I'm dying, why isn't anyone helping me?
I was caught between inhale and exhale, unable to speak to scream, if only to express my pain with a cry. My blood pooled out of me, with every heart beat more. The beat became unbearable loud, then slowed down and got weaker and weaker.

Then the boy from the picture, Max, hovered over me, and ripped my dress open.

What happened then was beyond my comprehension...

His hand touched my stomach and a few seconds later, the pain was gone. I could breath again, so I drew in a deep breath.

I said up straight in the bed, sweaty and breathing uneven and heavy. My hand touched automatically my stomach, expecting blood.

I found no blood, but for a moment green energy shot through me, like electricity, but it was only a warming sensation.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, jumping on my feet.

[Oh my God, I'm really losing it.. great, I dream about getting shot, little green thunders are cursing through my stomach.... argh!]

My thoughts were a mess. What was that "dream"? A result of my imagination? A memory? But if it has been a memory.. what the heck does that mean? I needed answers, now.

There were definitely things I couldn't wait for Michael to bring up. I pulled a sweater over my head and stomped out of the room, only to find Amber with a magazine on the coach, sipping coffee.

~
When you are hungry, you get yourself an apple.
When you are thirsty, you get yourself a drink.
When you are restless, you lit a cigarette.
When you need an answer, you simply ask.

But, what if the person you need to ask is not there?

Michael was at the hospital, visiting his boss's wife, Rina, and her baby.
And I? I was stuck with Amber, the girl who looked amazingly beautiful with her red hair and the freckles, who had these awesome long legs and sparkling green eyes and who was just totally different.

She flashed me a sincere smile when I demanded harshly to speak to Michael, she even gave me freshly brewed coffee and was not offended by my retreating behaviour.

Yea, she's perfect. She has ambitions. She goes to college, wants to become a teacher one day. She cares for her old grandma, who she visited every day, she helps her big sister with the kids and goes to church every Sunday.

Gosh, all that sounds so unreal and prime time movie that I search her face for a flaw, her clothing for dirt. But there is nothing to find.

Next to her, I feel ugly, I have nothing, no ambitions, no vitality, not french manicured nails. I look like drug addict; pale, sweaty.

And I can't hate her. I try not to like her, to despise her, she, who has everything. The dreambody, the dreamboy....

I wonder how long they are together, if they think about marriage. She wears no engagement ring, but that means nothing.

Then she leaned forward, and I heard her ask:
"Do you think Michael and I are a couple?"

~
tbc

I mentioned Billy in the flash, who showed up in S3. This is set in the summer after S2, though. I just felt so free to bring him in earlier Besides that, I changed nothing... yet.

feedback is as always very appreciated, I can only learn from it

This is my belated b-day present for you guys. I meant to post this yesterday but I've been too busy. Enjoy!

WARNING: This part is rather dark and deals with depression and self- injury. This could be triggering. So I rate it ADULT- just in case. Don't say I didn't warn you! I wrote it bold!! ADULT! That should be enough.

A/N: I hope you guys will like it. I know I've been withdrawing in the last weeks, I am just pretty busy and have more trouble going online than usually. This part had been partly written for weeks, then I had to re-write it again and again since I didn't like it. Some of you might not like or understand everything, but I tried to explain the motives. Feel always free to mail or pm me when you have any questions or suggestions- it might take me a while to answer it, but I will answer. This is the first and hopefully only time that I can't thank each feedbacker, I'll come back at ya bout that. Thanks for the feedback and support, that makes my day. Enjoy!;)

Dedication: This is for you, Sarah, I hope you like it. I miss you sweetie!!

oh, watch out for my new story, I'll start posting it soon. The idea stuck me a couple of weeks ago and I try to write a couple of chapters first before posting it.
For the time being it'll be called "Gunshots", but I know that I have to come up with a better title, lol!

part7



Liz stared at Amber in shock and confusion.

"What?"

"I wonder if you think that Michael and I have something going." Liz saw that she meant that question seriously, and there was no mocking in her voice.

"What?" She repeated in embaressment. [Great, I'm a parrot]

Amber leaned forward, placing her mug on the couch table, looking Liz patiently in the eye.

"It's seems like you are getting a wrong impression and I don't want anything like that come between us-"

"I know what you mean", Liz cut her off. Did she need details? No. We've been together for almost a year now, he's so loving and caring and... Nope, no details needed. Amber probably thought she hadn't noticed it and wanted to claim her territory.

"That's what I'm talking about. You're jumping to conclusions. See, Michael and I, we've never been together, never will. He's like a big brother, my best friend. Totally platonic."

Liz felt like a complete idiot within two seconds. They were just good friends? And not a couple? Her cheeks blushed slightly as a wave of relief washed over her. She couldn't even tell why, but she felt unbelievably giddy. Why was that so important to her?

"And just for the record, there is no girlfriend at all."

Liz blushed more. Why had Amber added that? She saw the glint in the other girl's eyes and knew why.

"Now I think you get the wrong impression, I- "

"Nevermind, Shirley. You don't need to justify yourself." Amber smiled at her brightly. Yep, she'd been right. That girl was surely interested in Michael. And she didn't even know it.

Liz was just about to explain herself, when a sudden pain shot through her head. [Not again...]

Amber saw her wince in pain and was on her feet instantly.
"Anything I can do?" she asked in concern.

"I need my medication...they are in my bag" Liz managed to say, massaging her temples. [God, is this ever going to stop?]

Liz was almost thankful for the interruption, that talk took surely a direction she didn't like it to take. Didn't she deserve this? She was unthankful and rude, assumed things and behaved jealous, took away precious time and was only a burden in return.

[It's been a bad idea to stay, selfish and ignorant.]

She was being moody over a dream. A simple, stupid dream. Her mind had made up a story, tricking her. She wanted her memories back so badly that she imagined things that couldn't be true. Getting shot, miraculously saved and not even having a scar? Sure. And the green light? Only another imagination, her head was totally messed up. Wasn't that the main problem? Her damn head?

It took Amber obviously a while to find the pills, and Liz wallowed in the pain. Yea, pain was what she craved for, too. Pain distracted her from reality, from everything. Pain was just there, and didn't ask for much, just full attention.

Amber returned to Liz side, finally, an apologetic smile on her face since it took her so long.
"Here, take this", she advised, handing her a pill and a glas of water.
"This'll help you. The red bottle, right?" Liz had so much medication with her that it she wanted to get sure.

Liz took the items from her hand reluctantly, and swallowed the pill with one simple gulp.

Amber took her in her arms and rocked her gently. First, it irritated Liz, but then she realized that her cheeks were wet with tears. She allowed herself too many feelings, she allowed herself weakness.

When she heard the key in the apartment door being turned around, she freed herself from Amber's embrace. Michael didn't need to know what took place, and Amber gave her a knowing look. She wouldn't mention it.

~


The next days passed by with no real change. Liz never told Michael about the mysterious dream, afraid she might appear slightly insane.
He told her as much as possible, showed her photos, but it seemed to trigger nothing. He felt her frustration and impatience grow with each passing day.

Trying to get her out of the apartment seemed in vain, too. She hated crowds, was obviously uncomfortable with too many people around, such as in the mall Amber had brought her to.
She downright avoided to go out. In a way, it flattered him that his apartment became such a haven for her, but she was only a shadow, hollow and empty. Where were those radiant eyes, that shined with laughter and joy? He'd give everything to see her laugh again. Helplessness settled over him, and the fact that he had to manage the bar now wasn't helping either. Michael didn't know why, but the thought to leave her alone bothered him.
He wanted to know what was going on in that head of hers to find out if she might be ready to learn about her past in a rather unconventional way. So he grapsed the last straw he had- dream-walking.True, he'd never been good at it, but at least he possessed the power. Long time no practise, he realized, but not trying it was no option in his eyes.

He settled on the couch and watched the ice-hockey game he'd taped earlier that week. He'd seen the game yet, but he played for time till he was sure that Liz was asleep. Closing his eyes, Michael concentrated, hoping Liz would grant him access to her dreams...

~
She stepped in the shower. With an instant, cold water broke down over her head, then warm, then hot. So hot that it burned. She wondered if it could burn her.

The water washed away the day's dirt, the perspiration, the smoke. She washed her body carefully, a shower gel with vanilla scent, it calmed her senses. Taking a shower was a routine she needed. No matter how hard a day had been, the shower seemed to take it all away. This was were she found her peace. At least something that came close "peace".

But her thoughts carried her away, out of her bliss. Who was she fooling? How long did she think could let things carry on like that?

All those days, weeks, months, all the patience, all the time.
All the knowing looks, all the well-meant gestures.
Didn't they realize? No matter what they told her, it was in vain. No memory came back, not even a tiny little glimpse. No matter how often she tried to remember, tried to fit in: It triggered nothing. This was not how things were supposed to be. Things were supposed to be good, to be easy, to develop fast. But instead, it dreaded them all.

No matter how much hope she managed to build up, it disappointed her every time. Everytime she thought she was close to a memory- she got disappointed and felt frustrated. No matter how long she waited. God, she was sick of waiting. Sick of the disappointment, sick of the frustration.

The blood mingled with the water, disappearing in the flowing off. Leaving no trace of what was taking place. Liz sank to her knees and the hot water hammered on her back, while her trembling hands let go of the razor blade. She watched the cuts on her forearm, watched how the blood slowely pooled out, like so many times before. Five cuts, she counted, ripped into the thin tissue. [Too deep this time?] she wondered, [or not deep enough?]
No, she had not the courage to end it all, that was not what this was about. This was about life, about feeling something, anything. To release the anger and frustration, to feel better for a few minutes. To remind her of her weakness, of her stupidity.

Her vision blurred and the tears sprang from her eyes. That was the time she could let go, let it all out, all the uglyness and despair. No one saw her, no one judged her. No one knew. No one could know.
The salty tears burned on her arm, but she couldn't care less. The shower became too small, too hot, so she got up, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her, carefully watching her forearm, she couldn't leave a sign of blood.

~
Michael broke the connection, jerked up and fell off the couch, breathing uneven and hard.
Could this have been a dream? Definitely not. He hadn't been the observer, but he'd been inside Liz's mind. Thinking her thoughts, feeling her feelings, doing what she did.

Realizing this he threw his hands up, inspecting the inside of his arms, fearing to find the cuts he'd just felt moments ago being ripped in his skin. Her skin?

['Kay Guerin, focus. This was no dream, this was too real.]

The next thought that crossed his mind couldn't be an option- it has been a memory? Michael tried to dismiss it, tried to think rationally. Liz would never hurt herself on purpose, right?

He ran impatient hands over his sweaty face, telling himself that he had to be wrong.

When he recalled the first night Liz had stayed in his apartment couldn't he remember any gashes when Liz handed him, only towel-cled, her car keys and asked him to retrieve her duffelbag from her car. But she'd only holding out one hand, clutching her other arm to her chest. To support the towel, or to hide scars?

Damnit, it was time to talk.

~
Liz woke up with a start, an awkward feeling chilling her. What was going on? She glanced over to the alarm clock, 1.34a.m. .Would this be yet another sleepless night? The moonlight shone through the blinds, lightening up the room and leaving a pattern on the floor. Liz went over to the window, opening it and welcoming the cold air. She was thirsty, so she made her way to the door, only to get startled by the man standing on the other side.

"Geez, Michael!" Liz stated, stepping back, heart pounding loudly.

Michael's frown disappeared for a second, he didn't mean to startle her. He'd been standing outside the room for a couple of minutes, contemplating how to tell Liz that he knew. No, actually, to find out if he was right after all. He still doubted it. But just showing up at night accusing her of something wasn't a smart idea. Especially because he had to explain her how he learned about it. "Oh, I dreamwalked you" wouldn't be the answer she needed.

But there was his chance. She was awake, she'd seen him yet, she only wear a tanktop. Jackpot.

"I'm sorry," he began, "I was on my way to the bathroom and thought I heard a sound-"

"I opened the window, I needed some fresh air." She motioned with her head in the direction, arms crossed.

"Oh, I see," Michael simply agreed, "Do you fancy having a soda with me? I can't sleep tonight for some reason." He tried to sound casual, right hand clenched into a fist behind his back.

Liz nodded, so Michael took her hand and immediately sensed the tension and reluctance. But he didn't look back at her and only pulled her out of the room, in the kitchen, in the light, then turned back to her.

He knew that he was crossing a line when his firm grip wouldn't let go of Liz's hand, though he felt her pulling back. But he had to know. He faced her, and saw fear, despite her attempt to disguise it. Her hand began to tremble, giving him a reason to look down, turning the inside upwards.

It was one of the moments you keep your breath until you feel dizzy and realize that you stopped breathing altogether. Her arm confirmed his fear, proved his theory, but he couldn't be happy about being right. What he weren't just scratches, but cuts, healed and now scars, others still red. He started to count but stopped, too many gashes had been ripped into her skin.

Michael started breathing again when Liz pulled back in a harsh, sudden movement, clutching her arm to her chest, masaging her hand where he'd been holding her.

"Where do those come from," Michael asked, surprised by the trembling in his own voice.

"Those...well, when I had the car accident there was glass and-"

"Don't bullshit me, Liz," Michael interrupted her obvious lie. Liz had gathered all her courage to sound convincing, but he wasn't dumb. She stepped back, again, trying to get space between them. Was she scared? By him? [Please not...]
Michael realized that shouting at her, shaking her wouldn't do any good. She'd not trust him enough to explain herself, but close down.

~
"Can you explain this to me?" I asked, trying to sound patiently.

"I don't think you'll understand", she replied immediately, shrugging non-chalantly.

"How can you know that without even trying?" I stared at her in disbelief. I tried to remain calm, right? Couldn't she even try?

Finding her cigarettes on the kitchen counter, she fumbled with her lighter, the damn thing never seemed to work but she didn't bother to get a new one. Why did she have to smoke now? This was important and she played for time?

"Try", I pleaded, trying to get her to look me in the eye. She put the lighter and cigarette aside, and stood up, turning her back to me. I would have prefered to see her face, to be able to read her emotions, to reach her. I was sure she wouldn't say a word, but then she said something.

"I'm stuck, Michael. Stuck in something I can't escape. I want to know who I was, who I am supposed to be. But the more I think about it, the more I learn about the 'old' Liz, I want to know: Who am I? I feel helpless and useless, there is nothing I can do to improve my situation. I'm a burden for everyone. I just can't take this, I feel like I don't exist."

Liz turned around, her eyes wet with tears.

"Liz Parker doesn't exist anymore, Shirley Geoffries isn't supposed to exist at all." She threw up her hands in frustration.
"I don't even have a high school diploma to apply for a job. I don't even remember any of the classes I took. I don't know how to waitress, how to organize things. I can't even organize my own life." She reagined composure, blinked away her tears. How could she keep her emotions in check like that? She ran her hand through her hair.

"Don't you see? This hopelessness drives me insane. I am non-existent." She shrugged helplessly.
"I want to have a perspective, Michael."

My mind raced. Was she off that bad? I had underestimated the situation. I knew about hiding, building up walls. So why had it never occured me that something was totally wrong? She was not only frustrated or depressed, but she hurt herself on purpose. How could one do that?

"I feel alive when I do this." she held out her arms, motioning to the red gashes that were still visible.
"It shows me that I'm not a ghost, a nothing. And all my feelings, my anger, my frustration, I can release it."

She stepped forward, came close. When I said nothing, she turned away, crossing her arms uncomfortably.

"I told you you won't understand," she whispered, shaking her head softly.

But that was not the reason for my speechlessness. The weird thing was, what she said made sense to me. Perfect sense. I recalled her words over and over in my mind. She felt that she has no place where she belongs to, she's afraid people can't understand, she has all those emotions in her that threatened to explode. She hurt herself, not caring about the physical pain.

How often had I smashed my fist into a wall?
How often had I felt in the wrong place? A hybrid, not meant to exist, in a world where there was no place for me.

How often had I looked in the mirror feeling utterly helpless concerning yet another alien-related issue?

How could I not understand?

"I'm sorry", I started. "So sorry."

Liz shrugged, getting my apology wrong.

I had been so blind. I gave her the feeling to be alone because I was too afraid to show her my affection. Because I thought it would scare her off. It had been the wrong thing, I had let her fall even more, in front of my eyes.

What's the difference between blindness and denial, I wondered.

"But Michael," Liz started, "I didn't cut ever since I'm here." She shook her head emphazisingly.
"Even though all our attempts to regain my memories were in vain, I felt safe. Sure, still stuck, but at least safe. At least I knew that I have somehow a place I belong to now. You never gave me the feeling to be unwelcomed. This is not about life and death, but about life. This is not about siucide. This is a reminder, to remind me that I fight for a life. To remind me that there is something, to remind me that I am still alive. I realized that now. There is something worth living for."

She looked up and waited for me to confirm it, to assure her.
She didn't cut ever since she was here? That means I wasn't blind about something that happened in front of me, I just missed what had already taken place. She'd only been here for a couple of days, even though it felt to be longer.

"I want you to be happy. To become an existing person. No matter what happens, I'm here for you. When you want to talk. And also when you don't want to talk. Just don't think you are alone in this."
I knew I should have said more, but I sensed that she wanted to quit the topic.
I stepped forward and touched her cheek gently, fighting the urge to hug her. I didn't want to overdo, to scare her off. She needed to learn to trust. Maybe it had been wrong to be that angry.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. I realized that she was fighting her emotions. Liz took a step forward, slowly, then lay her head against my chest, reluctant arms surrounding my waist. I put my arm around her shoulders, stroking her head. But she didn't cry again. I knew that she needed time to open up- like I had needed time. Her earlier tears had been tears of embarassment, I had caught her, confronted her. I believe we stood there for about half an hour before she slid out of my embrace and lead me to the bedroom, holding my hand firmly. I slung my arm around her when she lay down, and surprisingly, I fell asleep real quick, shortly after her breathing confirmed her sleep.


~
Waking up in someone's warm embrace was completely new for me. I felt his breathing on my neck, tickling me a little bit. Our legs were tangled, just like our hands and fingers. I smelled his scent, and it felt so familiar that I was almost sure we'd already shared a bed in the past. It felt just right. I moved slightly and Michael snuggled up to me even closer. But I didn't feel concerned or suffocating, just safe, at home. I felt now that I really belonged there, that I belonged to Michael. Not that I clearly formulated this thought, but I realize now that this had been the moment I finally knew: I'm not alone anymore.

I suppose I felt a bit apprehensive. The way I saw Michael now scared me. I didn't want to get up, to leave the security of his arms. Instead, I wondered what he thought about, how he saw me. Did he think I was attractive? Did he feel awkward with my battered body and all? Did he even consider the thought for a second? I recalled the last night, saw his eyes looking down at me with sincerity. How did I deserve someone like him?

When I felt him wakening up, I feigned sleep, just to be able to stay in that blissful moment for a little bit longer.

~
Here I lay with the most beautiful person in my arms.
I smiled to myself. She always thought I‘d buy this.
"I have something for you," I whispered, stroking her hand with my thumb.
"And when you stop pretending to sleep I‘ll fix us breakfast and give it to you. It‘s something really personal. Something that belonged to you. Something that holds answers to your questions."

She opened her eyes, searching mine.
"What is it?" She asked curiously, but aware of the importance.

"Your diary"


~
Now this alarmed me. I mean, he had my diary all the time but didn‘t give it to me yet? Didn‘t he think this would be a great help to trigger memories? He asked me to be patient, though, and told me I‘d understand it. I was more than puzzled, but I trusted him that he had his reasons. What had I stumbled into now?


September 23rd. Journal entry one. I‘m Liz Parker and five days ago I died. After that, things got really weird...



~
I knew it would be a risk. I mean, this would change her view of the world, of me. Did I want her to think any different of me? No. Did she think any different of me the first time she found out? As in being disgusted or scared? No. But still, I can only emphazise that she was not the Liz she used to be...Plus, I‘d pull her again in our alien world. In a world where Alex had died, where no one was really save. She had no memory of all of that. She was just a girl. Free. But how could I not be honest? How could I lie?

After our rather short breakfast- she wolfed it down in a hurry that surprised me- I retrieved her journal from a secret place, and handed it Liz. To say she was nervous was an understatement. This was a crucial moment, and we knew it. She took the leather book with trembling hands, comtemplated for a moment and asked then if it was okay to read it alone. I agreed, of course, though I would have rather liked to see her immediate reaction. She locked the bedroom door, armed with cigarettes and coffee. All I could do was waiting. Waiting for her reaction. Maybe this was the time to call Isabel..

~
I started reading this book, eyes wide and mouth open. For a second I wondered if that was the right journal. Maybe I‘d been interested in writing short stories and this was my notebook, but I soon realized that this was not the case. After all, what stood there about the shooting was exactly how my dream had been. I read a couple of passages again and again, trying to imagine the situation I‘d described. Come on, this was like a three-seasoned TV show. This journal contained the last two years in the life of Liz Parker, the girl who‘d been shot, saved and pulled into a world where aliens and special FBI units meant a threat to her young life. I refused the think that this was me. I refused the mere thought of being involved in all of that. Just because this was the craziest stuff I ever read.

But after a package of cigarettes, too much coffee, and three hours of intense reading I knew what I had to do.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened to me, or how I'd be like without meeting Michael and the others. But then I realize how selfish my thoughts are. Why do I care about me? My life got saved, I fell in love, then really fell in love... I met wonderful people, most important Michael. I'm blessed with someone who loves me just as much as I love him, no matter what. I'm not alone and despite all the danger I feel safe. Why wondering about how my life could me?
But I wonder about Maria, Alex... even Kyle and Jim Valenti.
Maria, my sweetest Maria, she wants so badly a normal life. She's not happy, and I wish I could do anything to make her feel better. But I feel guilty for loving Michael, and she still can't let go. She pretends she can, tells me she's okay, but I know better.
And Alex.. if only... if only we'd been smarter. But who would expect the enemy as one of us? I'll never forgive myself that I couldn't safe him. But where ever he is, I hope that he's alright. I'm almost sure that he's sitting on a white cloud with his guitar looking down on us, singing us lullabies to help us finding sleep at night. I see him smiling as I'm writing this, and I hope I'm not wrong. Am I right Alex?
One bullet turned the world upside down for eight people, one bullet changed everything. And I try not to regret to live, no matter how hard life can be. Because somehow I know: It's worth it.

~
I‘d been waiting for the last three hours. Even though I felt the need to ride my bike to get out of here, to let time pass by faster, I stayed, convinced I wouldn‘t be back in time when Liz was ready to face me again. I flipped through some books, zapped through the TV program, tried to pick a DVD to watch. I was restless. Sometimes I thought I heard a laughter, or exclamations like "Holy crap", "What?", "No way" and a sarcastic "Sure!"

I was apprehensive and curious, but soon quite sure that she would not freak. And she was still in my room, that was a good sign. If she‘d be scared, she would have tried to get away. Eventually, I called Isabel, but she wasn‘t at home which was probably the best thing that could happen. I‘d been considering telling her that I‘d found Liz, or rather that she‘d found me, but then I would have had to tell her that Max was dead, and this was no issue to talk about on the phone. So I left her a simple message and asked her to call me back. In typical Guerin manner of course.

"Izzy, call me back. We need to meet. Take care."

I just hung up when Liz left the bedroom, finally. I tried to read her face when she approached me, but she managed to have this awfully annoying indifferent expression on her face.

"Show me everything," she said.

tbc

tahahaha!! That was quite a bit, huh?

My dearest fellow polarists,

I'm here to apologize for neglecting this story in the last time. Both of my current stories, Longing for Memories and Away from the Sun mean a lot to me and I thought it would be easier. But my current situation is not allowing me to focus on either story. Especially because it's hard for me to write about sth so personal like Liz' self-injury in LFM. It's triggering for me, and real life is triggering enough already. Writing ff is a way of distraction and expression, but right now it's impossible for me. All I can manage to write about is SI-ing and this is not what polar ff should be about. I'll be back, eventually. Maybe just with a teaser or sth like that, maybe in a week, a month, a year.

Thanks for your understanding.

Bea

ps: once again, I want to thank you for the wonderful fb I got for this story. It means a lot!