Roswell Fanatics

I'm coming out of retirement for this one last fic. Anyone remember me?

Title: Love Song
Author: Sugarplum17
Category: AU M/L
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims. They are property of UPN, Sci-Fi, and The WB?
Author’s Note(s): Sad, sad stuff. Tissues required. And I haven't a CLUE where I’m going with this, just so you know. No aliens.


<center>Love Song: Prologue</center>


The clouds hung in the air like smoke in a crowded room. Their grayness was not seen by his eyes. Nor were the drops that pelted the top of his head felt. The thunder that assaulted his ears went unheard. He was completely oblivious to all of it. All he could see was a sweet vision of long dark hair, a radiant smile, and eyes full of love. All he could feel was her embrace, her skin, her love. All he heard was her laughter, the sweet nothings she whispered to him. He didn’t dare blink.

The only thing he wanted to do was stand there and watch her. The clouds, the rain, the thunder, the people, the cemetery; it all just fell away. As if it weren’t even there. It fell away for her, like it always had when they were together. It was only them. Every time they were with each other. They were alone.

Her feet were bare. He could feel the grass against the bottom of his feet despite his black leather shoes. She never wanted to wear shoes. The thought made him smile. He slipped his shoes off and began walking toward her. He just wanted to touch her; to hold her.

He almost didn’t think it was real when she looked at him and smiled. It was so radiant and so full of love. It pulled him to her as if they were magnets. She stretched her arms out wide, the way she always did. She was calling him to her, encouraging him. He’d never been one to deny her. Never. Why start now? He quickened his pace.

Just for a little while. He told himself. Just for a second.

He needed her. He just wanted to feel like he was whole, for however brief the moment was. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached her. She’d been walking toward him too and wrapped her arms around him when they found each other. His thick fingers burrowed through her hair. He inhaled as much of her scent as he could. He smelled nothing but her favorite lotion; Sweet Pea.

“I love you.” Her breath was hot on his ear and he wanted to savor that moment forever and ever. “Okay?”

All he could do was nod his head. Surely, she could feel that. He couldn’t speak if he had wanted to. And boy did he want to. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her that he loved her more than life itself. More than anything.

“I have to go.” She whispered.

He shook his head this time. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He couldn’t quite give her up just yet. His arms tightened around her and he savored the feel of her. She pulled back just enough to lightly press her lips to his. “I have to go.”

Somehow, she managed to free herself from his grasp. “However far away, I will always love you.” Her voice was like silk.


And just like that, she turned her back on him and started to walk away. But in his mind, he followed her. He followed her across the country and to gates which he could not pass through.


“Max?”

He blinked. She was gone. There were no gates. He felt the rain and he heard the thunder. He was in the cemetery and there were people. But she was gone.

“Max . . . stop.”

He turned his head to see her. The blonde that had become like a sister to him, simply because she’d always been like a sister to the woman he loved. She was telling him something; trying to take something from his hands.

“Please Max.” Her voice cracked. “Give me your hand.”

He followed her gaze and found that in his grasp he held roses; white ones. They were pointed toward the ground and dripping red onto his shoe. He wondered why.



TBC?

This is kind of a short one. I almost went into a totally different direction, but this one appealed to me more. Hopefully it appeals to you guys too. Part two will be much longer than this. I promise.



<center>Part One
Eight Years Later . . . </center>




“Daddy?”

“What sweet pea?”

“Tell me about my mother.”

And so their nightly ritual began. He would put to her bed and instead of reading her a fairytale, he would tell her a real one.

“Your mother.” He sighed lovingly. “Your mother was an angel, sweet pea, sent to me straight from God.”

“She was beautiful.” She added, staring up her father.

“She was more beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever seen.” He told her earnestly. Gently, he stroked his daughter’s brown hair.

“More beautiful than me?” She asked, knowing already what he would say.

He chuckled as he tapped her nose. “Almost.”

“I look just like her.” She stated.

“You do.”

“My mother was a princess wasn’t she? Just like me?”

“And I was her prince.”

“Why did God take her back?”

He smiled at her, his joy intricately tied to his pain. “So I could have you.”

“Why couldn’t you have us both?” She asked, feeling guilty.

“I do have you both.” He told her. He took her hand and placed it on his heart. “Your mother is here and so are you.”

In turn she took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, if you want her to be.”

“Sometimes I miss her.” She said quietly, turning his hand over to trace the lines with her fingertip.

“Sometimes I do too.”

“I have a test tomorrow.” She told him.

“Did you study?” He asked her.

She nodded her head. “It’s science . . . sometimes I feel like she helps me.”

“Sometimes I do too.”

“Goodnight daddy.”

“Night sweet pea.”


He gingerly kissed her forehead before pulling the covers up and tucking them underneath her chin, just like she liked it. “Closet light on or off? Door open or closed?” He asked, making his way across the room.

“Off and cracked.”

“Sweet dreams Natalie.”

“Sweet dreams daddy.”

He left the door open a crack, but didn’t immediately walk away. Sometimes, their stories and conversations about her mother took a lot out of him. Sometimes they brought him back to a place he didn’t care to be. They left him feeling rather thirsty for something. That something was usually a cold beer. Running a hand over his face, he closed his eyes and sighed. He needed to make a phone call.

First let me say that I feel like a complete tool for taking so long to update this, and secondly may I grovel for forgiveness? In my defense, it took me a little while to figure out where I wanted to go with this so writing this was hard to do when I didn't know where I was going to end up. Now I know. So sorry it took so long!



<center>Part Two</center>



After making his phone call, Max Evans went to lie down in an empty bed with a heavy heart. He felt a discouraging emptiness and a familiar urge that he almost couldn’t shake. But he wasn’t going to fall back into his old habits. He’d made a promise to himself, to Natalie, and most of all, to her memory and spirit.

Closing his eyes, he pictured her in his head. Her long brown hair and her round beautiful eyes. He pictured her smile and the way she sometimes drummed her fingertips against her lips when in deep concentration or thought. He thought of Natalie. Somehow, she’d managed to inherit that trait and it killed him slowly every day. It attacked him with a pang so sharp, he was sure his heart had split in two. It was as if his rib cage was a battle field where good and evil were waging war against each other; only in his case the evil was the sorrow and the good was the glee.

He tried not to think about it. It made him feel guilty. On one hand, he was wishing that she was still around. Wishing he could hold her. Wishing that he could still make love to her. Wanting to talk to her; to hear her laugh. On the other hand, he wouldn’t trade his daughter for anything. Not even for her. He loved Natalie way too much. He just wanted to have his cake and eat it too. But that wasn’t ever gonna happen.

With a sigh, he rolled over on his side and placed his hand on the right side of the bed. Her side. One of these days, he was gonna have to take everyone’s advice. He was going to have to get over her.




“Rise and shine!” A cheery voice broke through the cloud of his dream as a blinding light assaulted his closed eyes. “It’s time to greet the day!”

Quickly, he covered his head with a pillow and rolled over groaning. “Maria! Come on!”

“Oh no.” She scolded him in a very matronly way as she stalked toward his bed. “You’re late for work and Natalie is going to be late for school if you don’t get your ass in gear, Max.”

He resisted her when she tried to pull the pillow off his face and glared at her when she finally yanked it free from his grasp. “I really hate that you live across the street.”

“Yes, I know you do.” She yanked back his covers without stopping to think about the possibility that he might be naked under them. Luckily, he wasn’t. “So does everyone else on the block. Now get up.”

He pushed himself into a sitting position. “Alright, alright. I’m up.”

She seemed exceedingly happy with herself this morning as she skipped across his room and threw open the doors to his closet. As quickly as she could, she picked clothes off their hangers and tossed them across the room. Not all of the articles made it to the bed, but that was none of her concern. Just because he was his own boss didn’t mean that he could slack off. Plus, she’d made a promise years ago to the best friend she’d ever had and god damn it she was going to keep it.

“Look, Michael already took Natalie to school and I have a whooole list of things I have to do today, so don’t fight me on this Max. Wear these clothes, eat some breakfast, and get your ass to work okay?”

“Yes sir.”

She glared at him over her shoulder from inside the closet. “You are not funny.” To emphasize her point, she threw a pair of balled up socks at his head. She’d always had good aim.




Arriving at work, Max killed the engine but didn’t immediately get out. His mind had been stuck in the past, as it mostly always was, during the short drive to work. Not but eight years ago, he’d been on his way to merging into the fast lane. He had been enrolled in some law classes at the local community college, hoping to one day take over his father’s very small but well-off firm. He’d also had a job there as a clerk. But that was then. Now, he was working at the UFO Museum.

He’d bought it a few years back with the insurance money. It had seemed like a good idea. It was the one place in town that wasn’t permeated with memories of her. It was the only place where he could turn the corner safely--without being assaulted by what had happened way back when.

He shook his head. He needed to stop doing that. He needed to stop living in the past; he realized that. He just couldn’t bring himself to actually stomp out the memories of her. If he allowed himself to let go of her, even just a little, he might have a shot at a fairly decent life. He might have a shot at love after death.

The thought made his throat tight and dry. How could he think that? Angry with himself, he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He wasn’t ready. He just wasn’t. He didn’t care how long he had to be by himself, he wasn’t going to give the memory of her up until he was damn good and ready too. So what if it was eight years later? So what if he hadn’t had a date in that long? Who really cared if he didn’t have sex? He certainly didn’t and he was willing to bet Natalie didn’t either. She’d never known her mother, so why would she want some replacement to fill the shoes of a woman she’d never known? That was his logic. It was good logic, he thought.

“Morning Max.” A chipper voice brought him out of his funk. Petite, casually dressed in a tee shirt, jeans and sneakers, long curly blonde hair pulled back into a French braid, and piercing blue eyes.

“Tess.” He replied dryly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, because he did. He just wasn’t in the mood for chipper and cheery.

She scowled at him as she waited for him to unlock the door to the museum. “Oh, I see it’s going to be another bad day, huh Mr. Evans?”

She’d taken to calling him Mr. Evans when he was being a prick. He supposed it made her feel bitchy right back at him when he was being callous to her. “It’s definitely not going to be a good one.”

“Didn’t think so.” She replied, rolling her eyes at his back and following him inside.




The workday progressed slowly. It usually was when it wasn’t tourist season. Luckily, the museum pulled in enough dough during tourist season to stay open during the off-season. Still, every now and then you got your curious ‘just-passing-through-town’ believer who stopped in to take a peak. They’d had about one of those and a few high school kids who were skipping school. Max wanted to call their parents, Tess convinced him not to. They’d come in, they weren’t disturbing anyone, and they’d bought tickets to the Alien Autopsy show. It was good clean business, despite the fact that they were probably going to just make out or cat nap in there.

All in all it was a pretty nondescript day for the both of them. Max mostly sat in his office while Tess and Jared sat in the break room watching the 14-inch TV that Max had put in there. There were no new exhibits to put up and there weren’t a whole lot of customers to deal with. By the time 2:30 rolled around, Max had dozed off on his desk. However, he was quickly roused by a light tapping on his door.

“Max, I’m taking off now.”

“Alright Tess.”

“Jared’s leaving too.” He didn’t quite know why she liked to inform him of these things. They had a time-clock in the break room.

“Alright Tess.”

She should have already been out the front door. She didn’t want to be late picking up her son again, but she lingered. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess.”

“Alright Tess.” He tried to muster up a smile for her benefit. “See you tomorrow.”

It was apparently what she wanted, because she raised her palm and wiggled her fingers goodbye before she shut the door. When she was gone, he stood up and tried to stomp the tingly feeling out of his legs. He had to go man the floor; at least until Derek got there. After that, he was free to go home.

Thank you for all the wonderful feedback. This part is dedicated to my muse, Lindsay aka Applebylicious. After talking to her last night, I just wrote and wrote and wrote and had three pages in word by the time I was finished. So let us all bow down to Lindsay and thank her for a new part so soon.


<center>Part Three</center>




Skipping ahead of Derek Martin, Natalie Evans held his discman as tight as she could in her small hands as she sang along to the CD inside of it. She knew all the words by heart and for being eight, she had a decent set of pipes on her. At least, that’s what Derek thought. According to him, Natalie was better than half of the four high school girls that had auditioned for his garage band last week. That surely qualified him as an expert, right?

“It’s gettin’ late to give you up. I took a sip from my devil’s cup.” She sang at the top of her lungs, oblivious to the endearing smiles she received from older passers-by as she danced down the sidewalk. She tried to shake her young hips the way she’d seen Britney Spears shake hers on TV. “Intoxicate me now, with your lovin now, I think I’m ready now.”

She danced her way in the UFO Museum and all the way down the steps. There could have been twenty-five people in there and she wouldn’t have noticed. She wasn’t even aware of her father, who was standing by one of the inflatable aliens and smiling at her as if she’d just one first place at the science fair.

It was blatantly obvious to Derek, however. The gangly teenager shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps. He would never tell anyone, but secretly he admired Max. Sure, he was sullen and surly. Yes, he was difficult to deal with at times. Okay, Derek wouldn’t lie, he could be a real pain in the ass. But the devotion the guy had to his daughter was admirable. Derek thought it was kind of sweet that Natalie was the light in Max’s life. Nothing and nobody could make Max smile like Natalie could and she wasn’t even aware of it.

“Hey Mr. Evans.” Derek shouted above her singing.

“Derek.” Max raised a palm in the form of a greeting. “Think you can handle the museum on your own today?”

Neither of them knew why he was asking. Derek was the assistant manager. He’d handled the museum on his one on many occasions. He nodded anyway. Max was obviously in a good mood today, or all of a sudden. Derek didn’t know which.

“It’s been pretty quiet today.” Max informed him.

“Yeah, no problem.” Tapping Natalie on the shoulder, Derek waited for Natalie to remove the headphones before holding out his hand. “Need my discman back, kid. This place is dead today.”

For the first time since she’d danced her way in, Natalie looked around the empty building. “Can I play with it tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” He told her, an aw-shucks expression on his face. “But you can play with it on Monday for sure.”

Taking one last glance at her surroundings, she handed the discman back to him with a sympathetic look on her face. “You need this more than I do anyway.”

He thanked her kindly and took the disc he’d burned for her out of the discman. “Don’t forget this.”




Outside, Natalie grabbed her father’s hand and smiled up at him as they walked to the car. “Derek says I’m a good singer.”

“You are.” He told her. “Did you sing the whole way to the museum?”

She nodded her head. “Uh-huh.”

“Weren’t you embarrassed?” Max asked, pretending to be shocked.

“No way!” She shook her head.

“How did you get so confident?” He asked her. “That must be some of your mother in you.”
She smiled up at him. “My mother wasn’t shy? Ever?”

“No way!” He said as he shook his head, in much the same way she had shaken hers. “Your mother was brave. She danced down the street and sang all the time.”

“She wasn’t embarrassed?” Natalie asked, as if she were amazed by this new piece of information. It was the first time that she had heard it and she wanted to know everything about it.

“Nope.” He looked down at her and swung their hands. “Your mother didn’t care what anyone thought of her. She was very brave. Just like you.”

As they reached the car and her father opened the door for her, the information whirled in Natalie’s head. “Well . . . what did my mother sing?”

“You really wanna know?” He looked at her as if he were sizing her up, deciding whether or not she could handle this information. Of course, he was pretending. What he was about to tell her wasn’t earthshattering, mind-blowing news.

She nodded her head as she sat on the edge of the passenger seat, her hands braced on her knees as she waited anxiously. She was thirsty for this new information. “What did she sing daddy?”

“Debbie Gibson.”

She looked confused. She even scratched her head as she stared at him, as if she were trying to recall who Debbie Gibson was.

“She was sort of like the Britney Spears of the 1980s.” He clarified for her.

“Oh.” She smiled at him, pretending to know who he was talking about. “Debbie Gibson.”

“She also sang Madonna.”

“Really!” It was more of an exclamation than it was a question but it had the same inflection. “No way!”

“Yes way.”




Several hours later, the pizza came and Max picked a slice of cheese pizza from the box and carelessly tossed it on a paper plate.

“So how was your day today?” He asked as he slid the plate over to Natalie. “Anything exciting happen?”

“Well,” She sighed dramatically and flicked her wrist at him. She then proceeded to tell him all about her whole entire day from the time she woke up in the morning until the very minute they were in. She embellished the story here and there, Max was sure, but he couldn’t take his hazel eyes away from her animated face as she excitedly told him about the fight that Gregory Perkins and Christopher Valenti had on the playground. Her green eyes were wide with excitement as she swung her legs underneath the table.

Hi all. I'm back with a new part. Although it's kind of a shorty. I hope you all enjoy it and once again, thanks so much for responding with all your kind words. It really makes me feel appreciated.


<center>Part Four</center>


Saturday morning, Max entered his office only to find Maria sitting in his leather chair with her legs and bare feet comfortably resting on the cool glass. She wore black dress pants and a fitted blazer, clothes he had never seen on her before. Her makeup was absolutely flawless and classic - the kind of makeup Maria had only worn once before. Even her hair was done in a classic up do. He didn’t quite understand.

“Who died?” He asked her as he tossed his newspaper on the desk and plopped down into the leather chair. He wasn’t accustomed to sitting on that side of his desk, it felt a little odd to him.

“I’m supposed to be showing the Crashdown today, remember?” She leaned forward slightly to grab hold of her herbal tea.

“Nope. Can’t say that I do.” He told her earnestly as he stretched in the chair. “So...what’s with the getup?” She wasn’t normally the type of relator who got all fancied up in suits to show property. Most relators in Roswell just didn’t do that when they were showing houses to people they’d known all their lives.

Maria sighed and brought her legs down. She was obviously irritated as she leaned forward against the table, bracing herself with her elbows. She pinched her finger tips and thumb together to emphasize her upcoming point. “I’m supposed to be showing the Crashdown, Max. I told you. This woman is from Chicago. She has money, she’s polished.”

“And you...” he gestured vaguely to her, “You’re what? Dressing for success?”

“Yes!” She threw her left hand up into the air, her fingers spread. “Finally, someone gets that. I had to explain the same thing to Michael this morning. I’m telling you, you guys are so dense sometimes. It’s beyond me.”

“Thanks for telling me.” He knew that’s what Michael would have said. He even tried to imitate Michael’s cocky smirk. It earned him a glare.

He observed her as she took a drink of her tea and set the mug down again. He’d always thought that her drinking tea was a good thing. She was always so wired to begin with, he didn’t even want to THINK about her on coffee. Unconsciously, she rubbed her hands together as she checked the time. It was clear to Max that Maria was nervous. And for Maria, being nervous was a very huge deal.

“So tell me about this mystery appointment. Who’s my neighbor?” Max figured if he got her talking, it would loosen her up a little bit. She seemed tightly wound today.

Maria touched her face as if she were sweeping back a wayward strand of hair. She wasn’t used to having her hair up in a bun and she’d just given herself away as to how nervous she really was about this deal. It wasn’t the most expensive deal she’d ever made, but it was pretty close. She clasped her hands together infront of her, forcing her grip to be a loose one. “Uh, she’s 28. Money is no object to her and she is desperate to get away from Chicago, but she didn’t say why. I have my suspicions though. You know, cheating husband, abusive boyfriend. Witnessed a mob whacking. Something like that.”

“A mob whacking?” Max couldn’t quite believe his ears and he was unable to stop the laughter that erupted from his throat.

“What?” She was back to glaring at him now, annoyed by his reaction to her theories. “You don’t think the Mafia is in Chicago? Because there is mafia in Chicago!”

“Yeah?” He asked her as he leaned forward. He desperately tried to keep himself from laughing. “You think someone made her an offer she couldn’t refuse?”

She leaned back in Max’s leather office chair again and crossed her arms over her breasts, obviously annoyed with him. “Okay. You know what? Shut up.”

She was in fact annoyed with him, but secretly, she was glad that he was laughing. She was pleased to see his face light up in a way that it hardly ever did. It was a rare moment indeed, when Maxwell Evans laughed at anything or anyone other than his daughter and he was beautiful while he was doing it.

“ANYWAY.” She rolled her eyes at him, trying to keep up her facade. “This woman is so desperate, Max, that she wants to sign the papers and move in. Today!”

“Isn’t there a process?” When it came to real estate, he truly was clueless. He wasn’t fully sure how Maria had gotten into it in the first place, but she had a natural god-given talent for selling things to people. He was almost certain she could charm a family of seven into buying a cardboard box in an alley. Not that she would. Nosy by nature, she was all about finding what was best for people.

“Yeah. But the thing is, Mrs. Myer is in such a hurry to unload this restaurant she doesn’t care who buys it or when they move in. She just wants to get rid of it.” Max was sure that landing the Crashdown listing was the shining moment of Maria’s career. Purely for the gossip factor, of course. Maria loved her some gossip, good or bad, and the Crashdown Café was riddled with gossip. “She just want it sold. Of course, I don’t blame her. If it were my cheating husband’s dream I would sell the place too and before he had a chance to recover from his mid-life crisis to boot!”

“Of course you would.” Max smiled at her and felt a tad bit sorry for Michael. His friend would definitely have his hands full with a scorned Maria. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself with Hurricane Deluca kicking up dust at every corner.

“If I sell this place,” Maria said as she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and leaned against the desk, “think of how happy Nattie will be. To finally be able to have an alien blast again.”

Her tone denoted an air of dreaminess and Max smiled fondly. Natalie had loved alien blasts and the Crashdown. She loved the rest of the menu too, but nothing delighted her as much as the uniforms had. She had absolutely loved them.

“Let’s just hope this woman isn’t hellbent on changing everything.” Max said lightly.

Thanks everyone for the feedback and I'm so sorry that this took so long. Hopefully, you guys still want to read it, and if you do, please don't hesitate to let me know. I need that kind of encouragement, ya know?

<center>Part Five</center>

Driving down the dusty two lane road, she reached over to the passenger side and grabbed her water bottle. Despite having the windows rolled down, she was still extremely hot. It was a dry heat that she wasn’t used to, and it caused her to perspire a great deal.

For the tenth time, she told herself she was crazy as she glanced at the map that sat in the passenger seat. Her eyes briefly tracked the green line of the permanent marker she’d used to map out her course, before they returned to the road in front of her.

“This is not crazy.” Her own voice startled her and she swerved slightly, spilling some of the water from the bottle and into her lap. Replacing the cap to her water bottle, she tossed it into the passenger seat beside her. Gripping the steering wheel a bit harder, with both hands, she focused on the road ahead of her, determined to move on. Determined to make herself believe that it indeed was not crazy of her to leave her home and everything she had ever known. Determined to convince herself that she was not crazy for doing so. “This is not crazy.”

Her beautiful brown eyes, one marred with a purple bruise, flickered up to the rearview mirror and softened as she stared at the reflection of her sleeping child. She wasn’t a perfect person. There were many things throughout her life that she wished she hadn’t done, but that sleeping child was her reason.

That’s what this move was all about. She focused on that thought as she returned her eyes to the dusty road in front of her. Her baby, her precious son, he was her reason to change who she had previously been. Her reason to start over. Fresh. As fresh as she could possibly get, anyway.

Sighing, she reached over and turned on the radio. They were still a few hours away from where they needed to be. She was hoping that the music would make the miles pass by quicker. Or at least, that it would seem that way with a little melody.

It did. Before she knew it, she and her son were pulling up in front of the Crashdown Café. Where they were greeted by a woman in a fitted black suit.

“Hi! You must be Elizabeth.” The woman thrust her hand out enthusiastically. “I’m Maria Guerin.”

“Liz, please.” She averted her brown eyes when the relator’s curious green eyes fixated on her black one. “Thank you for showing us the café today, Miss Guerin.”

“Mrs. and please, call me Maria.” She said as she held up her left hand and wiggled her fingers to show off the silver band on her ring finger. “Anyway, shall we?”

Liz nodded as Maria pulled some keys out of her pocket. Reaching out, she grabbed her son’s hand, and squeezed it gently. The 11 year old boy just stood beside her quietly, adjusting his glasses and staring up at the giant UFO protruding from the building. His twenty-eight year old mother hoped that she was doing the right thing.

<center>Part Six</center>

After the papers had been signed and the new owners had been shown around every square inch of the restaurant and the apartment above it, Maria Guerin had left Liz and her son alone. She had seemed like a nice person, their relator, but Liz was no trusting fool. Not anymore. She wouldn’t blindly put her trust into another being ever again. She was aware now that no matter how nice and pleasant someone seemed there was always a devil hiding somewhere within.

She stared at her son, considering him for a long moment while he looked around the restaurant, considering it. She spoke when he finally looked at her. “Should we move the boxes into the apartment?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

She wanted to cry at the sound of his soft voice. He spoke in a very deliberate way; quietly. “Okay.” She said as she fought back a bought of tears.

She’d cry later, that was for sure. But for now, she had to be strong for her kid. Happy. Upbeat. She drew her lips into a smile and reached for him. He let himself be pulled to her side and she hugged him lightly.

“Come on, kid.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm and gently squeezed it. “Show your mom all those muscles you’re workin’ with.”

She didn’t have to fake her smile when his teeth showed for a brief moment. “You'll like it here, baby. You’ll see.”

He nodded his head, obediently, and smiled up at her from her side. “Okay.”

<center>****</center>

“DAD!” Natalie Evans burst into her father’s office, throwing the door open and letting it slam against the wall.

He was immediately alert. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked as he jumped up from his leather chair and quickly maneuvered around the desk. He would’ve leapfrogged it if she had had any visible signs of illness or pain.

He was at her side in seconds and frowning at her as she swatted away his concerned hands.

“Did you know that someone bought the Crashdown?!” She shrieked, smacking away his hand as he tried check her over.

He dropped his hands, rolled his eyes, and groaned, “I should’ve known.”

“They’re moving boxes in right this second!” She yelled as she jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Can we go meet them? Can we? Can we? Can we? Pleeeeeeease?!” She clasped her hands together and pushed out her lower lip.

He pointed at her accusingly, “You spend way too much time with Maria.”

She batted her eyes at him in response, her lip still sticking out in a frozen pout.

“Fine.”



Once they were outside the UFO Center, they stared at the Crashdown, directly across the street. A petite brunette woman and her son were struggling with boxes resting the trunk of their car.

Natalie sprinted across the empty street and halted right next to the woman. “Hi!”

Max cringed as the woman flinched at the sound of his daughter’s loud greeting. He quickened his pace and placed a hand on Natalie’s shoulder, sticking the other hand out in the woman’s direction. “Hi. I’m Max Evans.”

The woman stared at his hand as she brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. So caught up in her black eye, Max didn’t notice her slipping her hands into the pockets of her pants. “Hello.”

“Uh,” he retraced his hand and placed it on Natalie’s other shoulder, “this is my daughter, Natalie.”

Natalie thrust out her hand and waited patiently for the woman to grasp it. She cleared her throat when the lady made no attempt to remover her hand from her pocket and smiled when the owner of the Crashdown finally shook her hand. “What’s your name?”

“Um, I’m Liz.” After having her hand returned to her, Liz reached behind her and grabbed her son’s arm, pulling him gently to her side. “This is my son, Dylan.”

“Hi!” Natalie thrust her hand in his direction and smiled encouragingly at him as he backed away from her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you Dylan. I’m Natalie and I go to West Roswell Elementary. My babysitter, Derek, his name starts with a D too, he plays in a band. Sometimes he lets me watch them practice, maybe you can come with me?”

Timidly, he reached out and shook her hand for a brief second, nodding his head.

“Did you know that one day I’m gonna work at the Crash, Liz?” Natalie asked, curiously.

Liz smiled at her and Max assumed she liked his daughter’s spunk. It was impossible not to. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I really want to.” Natalie informed her. “The headbands are the coolest. I can’t wait to have one of my own.”

“Well, I’ll make sure not to change the uniform then.” Liz chuckled.

Cocking her head to the side, Natalie asked, “When are you gonna open the Crash?”

“Um, we aren’t sure.” Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous habit, not that any of them, except for Dylan, could have known that.

“So, uh, do you guys need help with these boxes?” Max asked softly. He got the impression that loud boisterous males didn’t sit well with either Liz or Dylan. “Nattie and I have a little time to spare. We’d be happy to help a neighbor out.”

“Neighbor?” Liz’s face scrunched up in confusion. Theirs was the only residence on the block that was both a business and a home.

Max pointed across the street. “We own the UFO Museum.”

“Oh, neighbors.” Understanding dawned on her then. “I thought it was some down-south thing where everyone called you neighbor.”

Max smiled warmly at her. “No. We don’t do that here.”

“Um, thank you Max, but we have it under control.” Liz said as she put her arms around Dylan. “This guy is pretty tough.”

Dylan blushed and looked at the ground as she ruffled his sandy colored hair.

“Alright.” Max nodded his head. He had to remember that these people were from Chicago, as Maria had said. They probably weren’t used to friendly neighbors and that southern hospitality that existed in small towns, even in the south-west. “Well, if you need anything . . . ”

“Thank you.” She didn’t smile at him, but she smiled at Natalie.

For a moment, the four of them stood there in front of the restaurant, waiting for someone to leave. Finally, Max took a step backward, pulling Natalie with him. “It was nice meeting the both of you.”

“Like wise.” Liz said as she released Dylan.

<center>****</center>

Dylan watched the pair walk across the street, through the lenses of his glasses. He was as shy and timid as a kid could possibly be. He had had to be. And yet, he had always been drawn to outgoing people. Outgoing girls, to be exact. Girls like Natalie and their relator, Maria.

He pondered that for a few moments as he watched the father and daughter he had just met, enter the UFO Museum. Back home, his circle of friends mostly consisted of girls. Sure, he’d had friends that were boys, but not nearly enough for his father’s taste. His father had called him a sissy for it.

“You should’ve let them help.” He remarked absently as he braced himself to lift a box marked kitchen. He didn’t get more than two steps before he tripped on the curb and dropped it.

He grimaced as the sound of breaking dishes erupted from the box. “...Sorry.”

Sighing, his young mother reached out and ran her fingers through her son’s hair. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

Thanks so much to all of you for the great feedback.


<center>Part Seven</center>

It had been a full two weeks since Max had met the aloof mother across the street from the museum, and he had seen her son every day since. Dylan had taken to hanging out in the UFO Museum while his mother did . . . well, Max didn’t exactly know what she did, but Dylan was spending hours at a time in his museum each day after school.

He didn’t know if Liz was getting the café ready to open or if Dylan just didn’t want to be there. That thought disturbed him. It was quite clear that someone had done a number on the petite brunette across the street, but what was less obvious was the number that was done on the petite little boy she’d brought along with her.

What kind of mind games had the man who hit Dylan’s mother played with him?

His thoughts were interrupted as Maria waltzed into his office. “Hello daaaahling.” She said with dramatic flair as she did her best Zsa Zsa Gabore imitation.

Maintaining all of that flair, she flounced further into the office and gingerly sat down on the corner of Max’s desk. He could immediately tell that she was up to no good. Or at the very least, had something up her sleeve.

“Max, my dear friend,” she batted her eyelashes at him and flashed him a stunning smile, “I’m having you over for dinner.”

“Why am I suspicious?” He asked, staring at her hard and leaning back in his chair. “Why do I think there’s more to that request?”

She smirked. “Well, it wasn’t really a request darling. It was more like, oh I don’t know, an order? Something like that.”

He rolled his eyes. She was definitely up to no good. “What is this about Maria?”

“I’m just having a few friends over for dinner, nothing big, nothing fancy. Casual attire. Find a sitter and be there at six.” She shrugged her shoulders and displayed a blank expression. “That’s all.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t have friends.”

Telling Maria Guerin that she had no friends had about the same effect on her as telling her that her credit card wasn’t accepted. She gasped. “Why, I never!” She stood from the desk, her hands flying to her hips. “How dare you Max Evans.”

One hand subsequently left her hip and she began pointing in his face. “If you do not come to my dinner party tonight, so help me.”

She cursed at him in Spanish for a few moments and then with fire and fury, she stormed out of his office. However, he was only mildly affected by it. Only half of it was real. The other half was all a show. She’d been in Drama Club all throughout school. She was in every single play they would let her into when they were growing up. She definitely knew how to act.

Max knew that she would be upset with him if he failed to show, though. It was a done deal. He <i>had</i> to go. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t. He just wanted to know what kind of party he was getting himself into.

Reaching across the desk, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

A feminine voice caressed his ear over the phone. “Guerin’s Auto, this is Caroline speaking.” She didn’t sound like she should be working in a garage. It amazed him every time he went there or saw her. She was the ultimate girly girl, but she could rotate tires with the best of ‘em.

“Hey, it’s Max.”

“Oh hey Max, just a sec and I’ll get him.” She sat down the phone and he could hear her yelling for Michael in the background.

Seconds later, Michael’s gruff voice assaulted his ear. “What’s up?”

“Michael, do you know anything about a dinner party tonight?” Max asked curiously.

“Who’s having a <i>dinner party?”</i> He said the words ‘dinner party’ like they were vile and dirty.

“You are.” Max informed him. “Maria came in to see me and told me I was eating at your place. She’s having a few friends over tonight.”

“Maria doesn’t have friends.”

Max laughed at the joke. It was mostly funny because Max himself had used it moments ago, and Michael was unaware of that. Evidence of why they were such good friends despite being completely different in almost every way. They shared the same sense of humor.