Roswell Fanatics

Title: Marrying Liz Parker
Author: Karen
Rating: MATURE
Disclaimer: Only borrowing
Summary: Sequel to Discovering Liz Parker (which was the sequel to Searching for Liz Parker ); Takes place a couple of weeks after the end of DLP. The gang deals with the after effects of the last fic, all against the backdrop of Liz preparing for her wedding to Max


Part One

Max Evans sat silently on the worn couch, his eyes following the motions of his fiancé. Not far away, Liz Parker moved slowly and deliberately, stretching her body in many yoga exercises. She was so like a cat, so sleek, so beautiful…so deceptively dangerous.

Chewing his bottom lip, Max sighed internally. It had only been a few weeks since the latest threat to his and his siblings’ existence – it had come in the form of a baddie named Carter who had infiltrated their ranks and had nearly killed all of them. If not for Liz and her budding gifts, Max was certain they would all be dead now. But Liz had been able to resist Carter’s manipulations and she’d roused Max from his hypnotic state.

And then Max had killed Carter.

Deep inside, Max knew that what he had done had been the only solution to their problem, but it was little comfort. His mind kept drifting back to a conversation he’d had with Michael Guerin after Michael had killed Agent Pierce of the FBI Special Unit. Max had told Michael that he’d only done what he had no choice to do and that it didn’t make him a bad person. Michael hadn’t wanted to believe Max and now Max understood why. Because he didn’t believe he wasn’t a bad person anymore either.

Liz blew out a long breath and turned a smiling face to her would-be husband as she regained her feet. Max was amazed that Liz was so at ease these days. After all, she’d been recently informed that she was the catalyst that would turn him into one of the most powerful beings in the world. The fact she took it all so casually astounded him.

“That feels so good,” she said, drawing in a couple of deep-cleansing breaths. “You should try it sometimes.”

“I’m clumsy,” he protested weakly. “One yoga stretch and I’m sure I’d pull something.”

Liz laughed and went over to the couch. Once there, she sat on his lap, straddling his legs. Max immediately put his arms around her. It seemed as though they had been together for so long that they just automatically fit together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

“You’re anything but clumsy,” she chided playfully. She placed a kiss on his lips. “You’re one of the most graceful creatures I’ve ever met.”

He snorted a laugh. “I guess ‘creature’ is the right word for it.”

Liz’s smile faded away. She didn’t understand Max’s gloom of late. “Hey,” she said gently. “What’s wrong?”

He looked away for a moment as he realized that he’d spoken out of turn. Liz had never been anything but understanding and accepting of his differences – not that she was so normal herself these days.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “It’s just school and stuff, you know? I’m just a little stressed.”

Liz frowned. She’d dropped out of school when her powers had gone awry and she’d been unable to control them enough to pull decent grades. It hurt that Max was still trying to work and go to school full time while she wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What can I do? Would it help if you quit your job and I got another one?”

Max’s eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t have her do that. “Liz, no. I don’t want you doing that. Everything will be okay. I’m just tired. Too much has happened lately.”

She gave him an understanding smile and touched his cheek. Then she leaned forward and laid her head on his shoulder. “Then let’s rest,” she offered. “You and me, right here on this uncomfortable couch.”

At that, he laughed softly – their couch was notoriously lumpy. He loved her so much that her simple offer of a few quiet minutes immediately lifted his spirits a bit. With his hands flat on her back, he pulled her body tight to his, buried his face in her hair.

“Relax,” she said softly, nestling into his embrace. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

Max closed his eyes and drew in a deep, relaxing breath. Here, with her in his arms, he could let some of his worries go. But he knew once they were parted, the uncertainty and anxiety were going to start creeping in again.

* * * * *

“So, what was your fantasy?”

Michael Guerin looked up from his text book and into the smirking face of Maria Deluca, his first and only girlfriend. “What?” he asked, his tone impatient as normal, her smirk not helping the matter.

“When Carter worked the voodoo on us and put us into our fantasy worlds – what was your fantasy?”

Michael returned to his book, hiding his eyes from her. “I don’t remember.” There – end of story.

“Oh, come on,” Maria laughed. “Everyone else remembers theirs – but you don’t? Not buying it, Guerin.”

Michael sighed and looked up again. “I have a final tomorrow, Maria.”

“Then answer me soon and I’ll leave you alone.”

He blinked a couple of times, then blew out a sigh. “You tell me first.”

She shrugged. “Okay. I was a world-famous singer – and you were my chauffer.”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “Wha-? I was your servant?”

Maria nodded nonchalantly. “Yep. But, I was doing you, so that should make you feel a little better.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then returned to his book.

Maria waited patiently, then lifted her eyebrows. “Well?”

Dropping his pencil loudly onto the table, Michael raised his head in irritation. “Well what?”

“What was your fantasy? Come on – it can’t be that bad.”

He scratched his head. “I was married and had a couple of kids. That’s it. See? Boring.” He was about to look to the book again, but Maria stopped him.

“Hold it. Just who were you married to, Michael?”

God, this was so hard. There would be no living with her once she knew she had him wrapped around her finger. “Uh…a world-famous singer, apparently.”

Maria’s full lips were parted in surprise. For the first time ever – Michael had rendered her speechless.

Which was good for him as he got to resume his studies.

* * * * *

Adam McKinney wiped off the counter in a slow circular motion, his eyes fixed not on his duties but on the tall blond woman sitting at a table by the window. She was more familiar to him than she had been, but she still seemed so far away, so aloof. She and Adam had shared life-altering trauma together, but that hadn’t softened her up much. The invisible walls around Isabel Evans were thicker than those of most bank vaults.

He understood that she couldn’t trust him – he was another alien life form, unknown to her until only a few weeks ago. In the time period before that when she and her brother used to eat breakfast in this diner in which he worked, he had just seemed like some awkward, gawky teenager that had fallen for her. Adam was sure that Isabel was used to that scenario – how could a woman of her beauty not be? But then to find out that he was actually nothing he appeared to be had to have ripped the carpet right out from under her feet. Couple that with the fact that her boyfriend turned out to be a murderous ally of a former rival and there wasn’t much hope that she’d ever come out of that shell.

Adam wasn’t murderous. He wasn’t even sure how one went about committing murder. He possessed a gentle soul and wished more than anything that he could ease her pain. But of all of the things she’d thought him to be, the only correct observation had been that he was awkward. He lacked every social grace possible.

Not that that stopped him from trying. Depositing the dishrag on the sink, he picked up a plate and placed a blueberry scone on it; he’d seen her eating them with her coffee on previous visits so he knew she liked them. Then he straightened his hair, wiped his hands on his apron and slowly approached her table.

“Isabel,” he said softly, trying not to scare her. She looked up from her text book, her dark eyes immediately cautious. He forced a nervous smile to his face as he placed the plate on the table. “Here – I thought you might like something to snack on while you study.”

Her eyes shifted silently to the pastry.

“On the house,” he clarified, then started to back away.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice so soft he barely heard her.

Adam wanted to sit down and chat away the afternoon with her, but he knew that wasn’t possible. She was like a beaten animal – he needed to regain her trust slowly. Today a scone, maybe tomorrow a scone and a short conversation before he retreated to his post behind the counter. From here on out, it was all baby steps.

And that was okay – Adam had all the time in the world.

* * * * *

Maria pulled one of the dresses from the rack and looked at it critically, one corner of her mouth lifted slightly. The dress was very white, very puffy, and very non-Liz-Parker. On the other side of the rack, Liz was also fanning through the dresses. Maria’s mind wasn’t really on helping her best friend pick out her wedding dress – it was on Michael’s fantasy of his own marriage.

Crossing her arms in a subconsciously defensive stance, Maria rounded the rack and stood by her friend. “Find anything?” she asked.

Liz shook her head as she appraised a gown. “Not yet. You?”

“No,” Maria answered. She glanced around the store and realized she didn’t like any of its fashions, bridal or otherwise. “Liz, what was Max’s fantasy?”

Liz stopped inspecting the dress and looked at her friend curiously. “What do you mean?” Max had many fantasies – some that had been fulfilled, some yet to be obtained – but Liz wasn’t sure she’d discuss them with Maria.

“You know, during the whole Carter thing…”

Liz nodded. “Oh, that.” She thought for a moment, weighing weather Max would care that the world knew his secret desire. Ultimately, she decided he wouldn’t. “He just wanted to start over.”

Maria’s eyebrows drew together. “Start over? As in how?”

Liz glanced around the store. “Probably not the place to talk about it, Maria. Do you have a point?”

“Well, yeah. I asked Michael what his dream was.”

Liz noticed that her friend’s face had flushed a bit. “Go on.”

“I think he wants to marry me.”

Maria’s blush deepened as Liz’s face broke into a beaming smile. “Maria, that’s great!”

She groaned. “No, it’s not.”

Liz’s smile fell away. “It’s not?”

“Hell, no. I mean, Michael and I have been together forever – if you don’t count the time we were apart.”

Internally, Liz laughed at that typical Maria-ism.

“We’ve always just drifted back together, ya know? But we’re not like you and Max. We haven’t always known we were going to get married. It’s not like I’m going to turn Michael into –“

Quickly, Liz clamped her hand over Maria’s mouth and glanced around as a warning. Apparently Michael’s revelation had shaken her best friend – it had been years since Maria had unintentionally blatted things in public.

“Sorry – but you get the point,” the thin blond said. “You and Max are perfect. Michael and I are not.”

“Yeah,” Liz agreed wistfully, returning her attention to the next dress on the rack so that Maria couldn’t see her face.

She didn’t know how to tell Maria that despite apparently being perfect in every way, lately she’d felt Max start to drift away from her.

tbc

Hey, everyone! Thanks for all of your comments! Thanks for your patience as well. I found a life for a couple of days

Kind of a short part, but I needed to "set the table" for a couple of things


Part Two

“You’ve been stalking Miss Isabel, haven’t you?”

Adam looked up as Maria rounded the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her hand. She plopped down beside him and his rather guilty expression.

“I don’t know if ‘stalking’ is the word for it,” he said somewhat indignantly.

Maria popped a kernel into her mouth and chewed. “Mmm hmm. So, what would you call it?”

One corner of Adam’s mouth lifted a little. “Just trying to break through the ice.”

She picked up the remote and turned on the television. It was Tuesday, and since Michael had Tuesday night classes, Maria and Adam had taken up having “movie night.” He had to admit that of all of his new acquaintances, he liked Maria’s friendship the best. Liz was special because of the way in which they’d met. Max was special because of his open-minded, non-confrontational nature. Isabel was special just because she was Isabel. And Adam was still scared to death of Michael. But Maria was quirky and fun and always asked him intrusive questions; Adam liked her blunt, in-your-face attitude.

“Odd that you should refer to Isabel as a block of ice,” Maria said, handing him the bowl and flipping channels. “Know what we used to call her in high school?”

Adam shook his head, fascinated at a bit of trivia from Isabel’s past.

“The Ice Princess. Yep, that’s our Izzy – she’s as cold as ice.” Without warning, Maria broke into the chorus from the Foreigner song, giggling as punctuation.

Adam snorted a laugh at her silliness, then shook his head in disagreement. “I don’t think she’s cold.”

Maria sipped her soda. “Maybe not on the inside. But the outside is definitely a little chilly. So, tell me what you’ve done in terms of stalking her.”

“Nothing,” he defended. “I just try to be nice to her…and give her an occasional free pastry or something.”

Maria stifled a giggle.

Adam’s blue eyes narrowed, a bit defensively. “What’s wrong with me giving her a free scone every now and then?”

“Nothing,” she said, clicking the remote again. “Jesus, is there nothing on tonight? It’s just that most women watch their weight, Adam. Free sweets aren’t necessarily a good thing.”

“Oh.” He looked to the floor, downcast. He didn’t think Isabel needed to watch her weight. To him, she was perfect.

Maria was studying him silently, mid-chew. She hadn’t realized how badly he had it for their alien friend, but his dejected expression was all she needed to verify that his feelings did indeed run deeply. Maybe this wasn’t just a crush. Maybe Maria needed to be more helpful and less flippant about it.

“So, tell me,” she said, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “What have you done to get a girl’s attention in the past?”

He looked at her quizzically. “In the past?”

“You’ve had girlfriends, right?”

A slight blush crept across his cheeks. “Well, I…”

Maria’s mouth dropped open. “Adam, you said that you’re 81 years old. Are you honestly trying to tell me that you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

He bit one corner of his lip, his expression sheepish.

“Oh, for the love of God,” she said, throwing one of her hands into the air. “How is that possible?”

“Well, I had a hard time finding people of my race.”

“So? Isabel’s not your race, either.”

A small smile crept to Adam’s face. “I know. But I saw that Liz could be with Max and you could be with Michael, so maybe it was okay for me to be with someone who isn’t genetically the same as me.”

Maria’s expression softened as she imagined Adam spending eight decades looking for someone like him and never finding them. What was it like to be that alone? What was it like to feel like you’d never have a companion?

“Well, we’re going to come up with a game plan to help you snag Miss Evans,” she announced as Adam’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah, and Michael wants to marry me.”

Adam was staring blissfully at the television without really seeing it, dreaming of one day being with this beautiful creature who had wandered into his café, when Maria’s nonchalant words managed to sink in.

“What did you just say?” he asked, his eyebrow knitted together.

“Ah, yeah, he can’t live without me,” she said, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Start the movie, would ya?”

He stared at her for a long moment, then moved to put the DVD into the player. How could she withhold this little bit of information for so long, blurt it out, then move on like it was nothing?

Adam was glad Isabel was an alien because he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand humans.

* * * * *

Liz sighed and dragged the can of beans over the scanner. In reply, the register beeped electronically and she moved on to the next item. Could there be a more boring job? It was somewhat ironic to her that she was going to help mold someone who could change the world – and here she was shoveling groceries.

But bills needed to be paid. Max couldn’t support both of them and go to school too. Maybe now that her powers were under control, she could resume her studies in the spring semester. After all, she could no longer feel everyone’s emotions if she got within ten feet of them. In fact, she’d discovered that she could only sense what someone was feeling if she touched them and if she wanted to feel what they felt. It made her happy to know she’d managed to rein in those powers a bit; she was starting to feel normal again.

For the most part, Liz was happy these days. She and Maria had found a dress that had been in her budget for her wedding to Max. That day would come, when she would walk down the aisle and become one with him for life. The thought brought a smile to her lips; she couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Max Evans.

It seemed to Liz that while she was optimistic about the future, the rest of the gang was still reeling from their encounter with Carter. Even though the circumstances had been dire, Liz had been left with a feeling of power, a sense that she could overcome anything that was thrown at her. She knew she wasn’t invincible, but with the right people by her side, she was damn capable of taking care of the situation.

That realization had driven home to her that her new status in life wasn’t an albatross. She was meant to be the catalyst to open up Max’s powers to their fullest – and now that she had witnessed them first hand, she readily took the responsibility. Together, they were stable and nothing was going to rock their world again.

What Liz didn’t realize, however, was that as she leaned over the scanner to grab a bag of potato chips from the conveyor belt, instead of the register displaying the price of the item, it momentarily flashed a series of characters, nothing more than ones and zeroes, before it resumed its normal function.

* * * * *

He could feel it beginning already.

As he stared into the bathroom mirror, Max’s eyes were sorrowful. Deep inside of him, he could feel things changing, molecules rearranging. On the outside, he looked like he always had, only more haggard than usual. No one knew what was going on inside of his body except him.

Looking down, he opened his hands and stared into his palms. He’d killed a man with his bare hands, without ever having to touch him. Just like that – poof! And yet this was just the beginning? When the prophesized changes came in full, what would the implications be?

Max thought about Liz unintentionally setting that hotel fire in Colorado Springs. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but she’d been unable to control her burgeoning powers and the room had combusted spontaneously. If Max’s powers were supposed to be superior to everyone’s on this planet, what would happen if he were unable to control them?

Closing his hands and swallowing back his anxiety, Max returned his gaze to the mirror. He didn’t want this, didn’t want the responsibility. All he wanted was to be with Liz and lead as normal a life as possible, given the circumstances. He didn’t want to be unstoppable, invincible. He just wanted to be Max.

Maybe Isabel had misunderstood their mother’s message, he reasoned. After all, she had been under great duress when she’d received it. Maybe she’d misinterpreted it. Max frowned – he could tell himself that all he wanted, but he’d seen no uncertainty in his sibling’s eyes as she’d relayed the story. Max was what he was. Period.

If he had known that finding his bride would mean that he’d be transformed, would he have prevented himself from ever finding her? Would he have lived a loveless, lonely life? It seemed that only that option would have prohibited these changes he felt swirling within his body.

But to live life without Liz was to not live at all.

Weary, Max rubbed his eyes. He was so confused, and there was nowhere to turn to seek guidance. Why hadn’t their mother visited him instead of Isabel? Maybe some of this uncertainty would be gone if she had. He simply didn’t know what to do. The transformation inside of him was troubling and with it came the fear that he’d accidentally hurt someone he loved.

Like someone had smacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four, the realization rudely slammed into Max’s brain – he finally understood why Liz had run.

tbc

Listen to all of you! Squeaking and assuming that Max is going to be a jackass! C'mon - if you've read my stuff before, you know that my Max is never an ass

Thanks for all of the comments Wish I had time to answer all of them, but time's short these days

FallenMagic wrote:

Itzstacie wrote:Err are you sure we shouldn't change the title to "Searching for Max Evans'

That's a good question! Well Karen?

Shh! It's a secret!



Part Three

When Liz returned home from work, it was already nearing midnight. She hated the late shifts, but everyone took their turn and she really couldn’t complain about it. When she entered the apartment, she found it uncomfortably silent; there was no television or radio, nor was there any indication of life within. The only light turned on appeared to be at the far end of the all, in the bedroom. Liz suddenly felt unsettled, like something was amiss and a twist of apprehension turned her stomach.

Quietly, as if her footsteps would disturb the fragile landscape of the apartment, she tiptoed down the hall and into the bedroom that she and Max shared. Once she entered, she realized why the place was so quiet. Max was stretched out on his back, his head turned to one side, a text book opened against his chest. He was asleep.

Liz breathed a sigh of relief and approached the bed. Silly to think that he wasn’t there, silly to think that he’d disappeared on her. Max’s actions of late had been somewhat evasive, but in her heart, Liz knew that he’d never run away from her. It had taken too long to find one another and neither of them was going to bail so easily. No, if Max was going to leave, he’d tell her. Face to face, not in some cowardly Dear Jane letter. Just because that’s the way Max was.

Carefully, she sat down beside his hip and watched the light flutter of his eyelids as he dreamed. Inside, she felt a tug of sympathy. He was so tired these days – he could blame it on work and study all he wanted, but Liz knew that something else was going on with him. Like a teenager in a growth spurt, Max seemed unable to reserve any energy.

Her movements slow and deliberate, Liz managed to extract the book from his arm without waking him. Then she waved her hand in the direction of the end table and the light went mute. In the darkness of the room, she rose and removed her clothes, then slid into one of Max’s T-shirts – her favorite nighttime apparel. She climbed onto the bed stealthily and crawled over to where her fiancé lay. Easing herself down, she snuggled close to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Liz lay there for a long time, watching his handsome face and listening to his steady breathing. She wished she had Isabel’s ability to walk into his dreams, find out what was going on inside of his head. He seemed troubled of late and Liz couldn’t help but think that was due to the events of the past month.

Reaching out, Liz placed her hand in the center of Max’s chest and concentrated on trying to feel his emotions, but she felt nothing. Back when she was first developing that power and had no control over it, she had found peace only at night, when others slept. She’d been unable to read their emotions while they slept and it appeared that fact hadn’t changed. Frowning slightly, she withdrew her hand and turned her gaze away from Max’s face. Tired from working, she let her eyelids drift shut, but not before she pushed out one thought.

Talk to me, Max. Don’t shut me out.

Max drew in a deep breath and Liz’s eyes popped open. He held the breath for a long moment, then released it, mumbling something incomprehensible. Liz’s eyes were round – was it just a coincidence that Max had spoken when she’d asked him to?

Or maybe he hadn’t answered her command at all. Perhaps he was just adjusting to her presence. That theory gained more weight as he unconsciously rolled onto his side so that he was facing her and put his arm around her.

Liz stared into his face for a long time, but he never awoke. His breathing returned to its deep, steady rhythm and he showed no signs of stirring. She tried to recall other times he’d talked in his sleep and found none. Then again, she’d never seen him so exhausted before – maybe this was just a manifestation of that weariness.

Eventually, Liz closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest. Maybe she was just making too much of things lately. After all, if the events of the last month had taught her anything, it was that nothing was ever what it seemed.

* * * * *

No one would ever accuse Michael Guerin of being an overly-sentimental person. Rarely did he wear his heart on his sleeve or run to someone’s emotional rescue. His own feelings were usually buried deep below the surface and reading him was never easy.

But the sight of Isabel so miserable every morning made Michael’s heart lurch. She never acted down or bitchy or even depressed. In fact, she was usually chipper and happy with him. That was when she was aware of his presence, however.

When she wasn’t aware of his presence, Michael caught glimpses of Isabel’s emotional state that made him hurt deep inside. It wasn’t her actions but just the look on her face, in her dark eyes. In them, he saw no hope for the future. He saw dead ends and despair. He saw grief as deep as the ocean.

Since they were children, Isabel had always been special to Michael. While she’d been stand-offish and cold to the outside world, she’d been nurturing and kind to their tightly-knit “family”, which had consisted of only the two of them and Isabel’s brother Max. When Michael’s foster father beat him, it was Isabel who comforted him. When Michael was without lunch, it was Isabel who went hungry. And before Michael had met Maria, when his soul ached, it was Isabel who soothed him.

That particular fact made it harder to bare Isabel’s present pain. He felt helpless and unable to repay her past favors. Life just wasn’t fair.

“Morning,” he said, grabbing a box of cereal from the cupboard and dropping down onto a chair beside her.

The pain flitted away and she met him with a pleasant smile. “Morning, Michael.” She had a text book before her. Michael wondered where she’d bury herself once mid-terms were over and she had no escape.

“Sleep well?” he asked, pouring the cereal into a bowl.

She nodded and gave a soft, “Mmm hmm.”

He picked up a piece of cereal and watched her silently. He didn’t know how to approach her sadness – he had little tact when it came to sensitive issues.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Isabel looked up, a little startled. “Fine. Why?”

He shrugged. “You don’t seem yourself.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I am myself. Just busy.” She returned to her book and Michael gave a tip of his head.

“Everyone’s busy, it seems.”

Isabel nodded her agreement, then her brow furrowed. She looked up at her brother. “Did you and Maria get engaged?”

A piece of cereal caught in Michael’s throat and he coughed. “What did you say?”

“I heard her talking to someone on the phone. She made it sound like you were getting married.”

He looked at her in confusion, then closed his eyes and shook his head. “Jesus. No, I didn’t ask Maria to marry me. We were talking about fantasies…” Michael’s voice drifted off as he realized he’d inadvertently brought up Carter and his manipulations.

It was too late to cover. He could see the realization in Isabel’s eyes.

“Your fantasy,” she continued for him, biting back the pain of those memories, “was to marry Maria.”

“Yeah,” he said, unable to meet her gaze. Not because he was ashamed to love Maria, but because he was afraid to hurt Isabel with talk of her last boyfriend.

“It’s okay, Michael,” she said, playing with her bookmark, her eyes fixed on the table top. “We can’t change what happened. You don’t have to pussy foot around me.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Isabel stared at the table and Michael scrambled through his lack of eloquence for something appropriate to say. What he came up with was far from appropriate, but at least it made her laugh.

“Isabel, please don’t describe anything I do with the word ‘pussy.’”

Uncharacteristically, she snorted and giggled out loud. Michael beamed at witnessing her first laugh in what seemed like weeks.

But her laugh died relatively quickly and she met him with a steady gaze. “Can I talk to you about something?”

He nodded, unable to speak due to his mouthful of cereal.

Isabel adjusted her seat, her expression uneasy. “It’s about Max.”

* * * * * *

There was nothing like a good, heart-pumping workout to take Max’s mind off his problems. He loved to sweat, to push his body to the limit. He and Isabel still worked out on Wednesday mornings, but this morning – a Tuesday - Michael had extended an unusual invitation. Racquetball.

It was unlike Michael to initiate any sort of physical activity. Unlike his brother, he hated to sweat and avoided it at all costs. So when Max had received a call to the gym, he’d been more than surprised.

The reason for Michael’s invitation, however, was revealed quickly and was hardly a surprise. Every chance he got, the alien sent the ball straight for Max’s head, sometimes whizzing at such a pace Max could only guess it had a little extraterrestrial help behind it. Michael, of course, was trying to prove that he could still meet the king in hand to hand combat – whether he realized he was doing it or not.

Being a typical sibling and not willing to admit he’d figured out the ruse, Max played along for quite a while, until one particularly fast ball buzzed past his head and grazed his ear. In retaliation, he sent the ball directly into Michael’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Michael shouted, his face red from the exertion of the game. “What’s that all about?!”

Max shrugged, panting. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Huh?” Michael’s eyebrows drew together.

Max waited patiently, knowing his friend would figure it out for himself.

When he did, Michael waved to the benches. No apology had ever been necessary between them. “I’m spent. Let’s sit.”

The boys sat, sweaty and panting, and drank from their sports bottles. Max poured some of it over his face, relishing the cool sensation that trickled down his chest and arms. Wiping off his face, he drew in one last cleansing breath and turned his attention to his attacker.

“Want to tell me why you asked me here?” he asked.

Michael shrugged. “Just wanted a friendly game of racquetball,” he said, his eyes flitting away briefly.

Internally, Max smiled. Apparently Michael was pleased that he’d been able to keep up with him still.

“And to ask if we need to schedule an intervention.”

Max’s happy feeling dissipated quickly and doom set in. “What do you mean?”

Michael retrieved his towel and wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m here to ask a favor, okay?”

“A favor?”

“Isabel’s worried about you,” Michael said.

Max’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Me?”

“Yeah. She thinks you’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.” He hoped that denial sounded more convincing to Michael’s ears than it did to his own.

“I didn’t say you were – she did. Look, can you please talk with her?” Michael pleaded. “I have to live with her and she’ll become intolerable if she keeps worrying about you.”

Max sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

Michael shook his head, fishing for some slip from his friend. “I don’t know, man. I’ve got to think that finding out I was going to change and what I was going to change into, I’d have to be a little freaked. Ya know?”

Max watched him silently.

“Are you? Freaked?”

“Michael, nothing is changing,” Max said, immediately hating himself for lying. “We don’t even know if what Isabel remembers is accurate. For now, I’m just going to consider myself Max Evans, earth-born alien. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Michael’s expression showed just a faint hint of doubt and Max forced himself to maintain eye contact to reassure him. Finally, Michael shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “If you say so. Another game?” He gestured toward the court with his racquet.

Max shook his head. “No. I’m whipped.”

One of Michael’s eyebrows rose sharply. Max never tired that easily.

Never.

tbc

Thanks for your fb, everyone! Still setting the table - good things to come


Part Four

As Max returned from the gym, he realized that the time he’d been dreading had finally come. Everyone was noticing something was wrong. He could no longer hide it.

Max would uphold his promise to Michael – he would talk to Isabel and try to put her mind at ease. But before he talked to his sister, or explained things to Michael, or let Maria in on his secret, there was one person who would always be at the top of his list.

It was still relatively early and Liz had worked late the previous night – he was sure she was still in bed. Biting his lip, somewhat worried about the conversation to come, he walked quietly back to the bedroom. She was in bed, but not asleep. She was lying on her side, looking through the window up at the sky. Obviously, she hadn’t arisen yet, but was taking her time getting up.

Despite the circumstances, Max couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. She was so beautiful, so perfect in every way – and she belonged to him. He slid onto the bed behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face against her warm neck. She gave a little giggle and put her hand on his arm.

“Morning,” he mumbled against her skin.

“Morning,” she answered sleepily, her voice hoarse but happy.

Max kissed the soft skin of her neck, then drew her closer to him by pulling her backwards against him. She let out a startled laugh, but gave in to his affections. Within a few moments, though, it was obvious that there was something different about his touch. Max liked sex in the morning, but on this particular day, Liz got the feeling there was something on his mind.

Squirming against his tight grip, she managed to roll over so that she was facing him, her body pressed tightly against his. His dark eyes were very serious, very beautiful and she found herself getting lost in them.

Lightly, Liz traced the outline of his cheek, his strong jaw. “You smell good,” she said, grinning.

He smiled in return, but his was a little weaker than hers.

Liz’s smile faded. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Max drew in a breath and released his boa-constrictor hold on her. Settling onto his side, he curled his arm beneath his head and rested against it.

“I have to talk to you,” he began, swallowing back his anxiety.

Liz nodded mutely.

Reaching down, Max picked up her hand and brought it to his chest. “Can you feel it?” he asked, his voice soft and full of caution.

She concentrated for a moment, then shook her head. “What am I supposed to feel?”

Max bit his bottom lip, then drew in a breath of courage. “I can feel it, Liz.”

Her dark eyes were round. “Max, you’re starting to scare me. What are you feeling?”

“A change,” he said, his gaze steady. “Deep inside of me.”

Liz tightened her grip on his hand. “What kind of change?”

He shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. Sometimes I can feel things moving around, rearranging themselves…”

She blinked. “Things?” she repeated. “Like…like your appendix is now in your foot or something?”

Despite the situation, Max snorted a light laugh. “No. I mean things like molecules. As far as I know, my body parts are still where they were.”

“Thank God for that,” she joked uneasily, her laugh weak. “What do you think it means?”

He shrugged slightly. “That maybe Isabel’s prophecy was right. I’m changing, Liz. I just don’t know into what.”

Needing to reassure him, Liz leaned in and kissed him firmly on the lips, then smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “Is that why you’ve been so tired?”

“Maybe. I just…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the words to voice his fears to her.

“What, love? Tell me.”

“I’m afraid of what I’ll become,” he said, feeling naked and vulnerable now that the truth had been spoken. “I know why you ran to Colorado. I understand what you were feeling inside.”

Liz worked her mouth, her eyes round. “Are you going to run, Max?”

Slowly, he shook his head against his arm. “No. But…”

In her chest, Liz’s heart lurched. She hated when there was a ‘but’ attached to a promise. “But what?”

“What if I can’t control what happens to me?” he asked, his eyes worried. “What if things start happening like happened to you? If I’m supposed to be so powerful, who will be able to stop me?”

Max could see that she had no answers for that one, but being Liz, she always found the right words anyway.

“I’ll help you,” she said. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Regardless where it leads us.”

Whether or not that solution was viable, it made no difference to Max. What mattered was that she loved him enough to stay with him to the end, no matter what the consequences. Qualities like that made it impossible for him not to love her, both emotionally and physically.

When their lips came together, Max mused that their kiss was so familiar and yet never boring. They just seemed to fit one another – like two piece of a jigsaw puzzle. They fit together like no other two people could. Liz’s small hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders, never breaking their kiss. Then she squirmed beneath him and pulled him down on top of her.

Max broke their kiss and simply stared into her loving eyes, her beautiful face. He traced all of its contours with his fingertips, marveling at what he’d been blessed with. What had he done to deserve her?

Liz watched him for a time, then a devilish smile curved her lips and she unceremoniously dropped his zipper. Max drew in a breath, then reached down between them to gently part her legs. He let his hand roam under his T-shirt, the one she’d claimed as her own, feeling the tight muscles of her stomach quiver as he came in contact with them. Then he circled her body at the waist and raised her up with one arm, joining her gently but passionately.

* * * * * *

Isabel looked at the scrap of paper in her hand and frowned slightly. This was the right address, but it seemed like such a…dump. As she stopped before the splintered door, she mused that this place was not much different than Michael’s first apartment in Roswell. She would have thought that any creature who had been on this earth for 80 years would have worked their way up to something better.

Whatever. She wasn’t there to criticize other peoples’ living styles. Pulling herself up to her full statuesque height, she knocked firmly on the door. In a few seconds, she heard footsteps, then saw a shadow in the crack beneath the door; it flew open and she was looking into the very surprised eyes of Adam McKinney.

“Isabel,” he said, nearly choking. “What are you doing here?”

She gave an uncomfortable laugh and gestured toward the apartment with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Can I come in?”

“Oh! Sure. Sorry.” He backed out of her way as he pulled the door open, his blue eyes never leaving her as she entered.

In a few quick moments, Isabel took in the contents of the living room – a worn couch, a rocking chair, a TV, a stack of magazines and not much else. It was a small, old, cramped space – but it was incredibly clean and tidy. She turned on her heel and gave her host a smile.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked, holding out a hand.

She nodded and shrugged out of the light rain jacket she’d put on that morning. Adam took it and carefully hung it on a hook by the door. One corner of her mouth turned upward – he treated that twenty dollar coat like it was a holy relic.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the couch.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting. Surprisingly, the couch was more comfortable than it looked. In her mind, Isabel imagined Adam and Maria slouched on it, watching movies together every Tuesday night.

“I was going to make some tea,” Adam announced. “Would you like a cup?”

“If it’s no bother,” she said. “I mean, I did just drop in…”

“No bother at all.” He smiled nervously, then scooted to the kitchen area.

The kitchen was separated from the living room by nothing more than a bar area, so Isabel could watch Adam as he prepared the tea. She found it amusing that he went through the bother of filling the tea kettle and heating it on the stove. Then she remembered something Maria had revealed to her – Adam had no real powers.

In a few minutes, he returned with their cups, his face showing his eagerness to please. She thanked him for the tea as he sat down in the rocker.

“So, how can I help you?” he asked, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Isabel sipped her tea, then set the cup down gently on the saucer. “I want to know about aliens.”

One of Adam’s eyebrows lifted. “Aliens? Don’t you already know about them?”

She shook her head, her blond ponytail brushing her shoulders. “Only my kind of aliens. I want you know about yours. I want to know about others. I want to know how you knew I was an alien.” She glanced at the floor, her tone somewhat embarrassed. “I want to know how I could have known Carter was an alien.”

Adam scratched his head and put his cup and saucer on the floor. “Wow. You want to know a lot.”

“I know,” she agreed apologetically. “And I can leave if you want. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No!” he said quickly, then gave a nervous laugh. “No, I want you to stay. You can stay as long as you want to.”

In his eyes, Isabel saw no deceit, no dishonesty, so she nodded her head in acceptance. “So, what can you tell me?”

Adam drew in a deep breath. “There’s a lot to tell, Isabel. There are many alien races on this planet.”

“Yes, but how do I identify them?” She wanted that answer more than anything.

“It’s not so easy,” he said, sorry that he had to deflate her hopes so quickly. “It’s not like you can just look at someone and know. For the record, I didn’t know you were an alien.”

“You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “No. I thought there was something different about you, but I didn’t know what.”

Isabel smiled as a flush came to his cheeks and he looked away quickly.

“On the other hand, I knew Liz was different as soon as I met her.”

“Why’s that?”

Adam shrugged. “Because I sensed something very confusing about her. Like she wasn’t entirely one race.”

Isabel’s brow furrowed. “Adam, I’m not one single race either. I’m a hybrid.”

“True. But you’re human and Antarian – two distinctive races. Liz is human and…something else.”

“Something else?” This young old man was confusing in every way.

He gave a little laugh. “Yeah. She’s not human any more…but she’s not entirely something else, either. Liz is something special. A one-of-a-kind.”

Isabel’s gaze drifted to the stack of magazines, which she realized were really comic books. Liz was genetically like no one else on the planet – that’s basically what Adam had just told her. That fact gave credence to the message that Isabel’s mother had delivered. Max had found the one person who would change him.

Then an unsettling thought occurred to her. If someone who had no powers like Adam could detect that Liz had a purpose, how easy would it be for someone who did?

tbc

I'm here, Lelle! Comments will follow

Part Five

Fingers clutching the heavy paper card, Liz stood before the time clock and forced the frown away from her lips. She needed this job – she didn’t need to let her dissatisfied disposition show. Behind her, the table of the break room was overcrowded with various grocery workers on their fifteen minutes of reprieve. Liz tried to ignore their conversations, but blocking out everything that was being said was somewhat impossible.

Did you hear about so-and-so who is sleeping with you-know-who in the meat department?

Are you serious? Does you-know-who’s wife know?

What do you think? The wife is always the last to know. I hear he’s been slipping her the meat for a good month now, if you know what I mean. Nudge-nudge, wink-wink.

Liz drew in a deep breath to maintain her patience, her gaze fixed on the clock. As soon as it clicked on the hour, she was punching in and running as fast as she could to her register. Some people might not be so anxious to start their day, but to Liz being away from all of the shop-talk and gossip would be a godsend. Simply, she didn’t fit in with these people. She never would.

“Liz Parker?”

Liz jumped slightly, taken off-guard, and found the store manager approaching her. She forced a smile to her face. “Oh, hello, Mr. Palmer.”

He was a middle-age, overweight, self-important man. His approach was not unlike royalty sweeping down upon her. Inside, Liz chuckled – if only this man knew that real royalty had swept down on her just that morning…

“Can I see you in my office for a moment?” he asked, his smile lacking any form of joy.

Liz gestured weakly to the clock. “I’m about to start my shift…”

“It can wait.” Mr. Palmer gave her an I’m-your-friend-today kind of pat on the shoulder and gestured toward the door.

Liz swallowed her sudden anxiety and slipped her timecard into the rack beside the clock. As she walked past the table, she realized that all of the gossip had stopped and she knew without looking that all eyes were upon her. Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she would be their next topic of discussion, she held her head high and never even looked their way.

Inside, she wasn’t so calm. What was this all about? She’d been a good employee, hadn’t she? She was always on time, never called off sick, her drawer always balanced to the penny. She got along with her fellow co-workers, even if she didn’t fit in with them. Years of working in her father’s restaurant had taught her how to work with people she didn’t necessarily like.

Mr. Palmer’s office was cramped, but he acted as though it were a corner office with a view of the Chrysler Building. In truth, there were no windows, only a door, a desk and a flimsy metal chair for visitors such as Liz. All around were stacks of papers and receipts, the paper trail of a grocer.

“Sit down,” he said, still falsely friendly.

Liz looked at the chair and wondered if it would hold her weight, as slight as it was. But she was the subordinate here and needed to play along for now. If he got out of hand, she could always blast him one later. At that, she felt the inappropriate urge to giggle, but managed to stifle that laugh and remain serious.

“How have things been going, Liz?” Mr. Palmer asked, putting on his I’m-concerned-about-your-happiness face.

“Fine,” she answered, smiling. She slid her hands beneath her thighs so that he couldn’t detect their slight tremor. “Just great.”

“Good. That’s good. No worries, then?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Nope. None.” She raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried about something?”

He studied her for a moment, his thoughts unreadable, then reached for a large book, full of computer print outs. “I want to show you something.”

He flipped some pages, then showed her a page that started with neat columns of numbers, then quickly turned to a large block of characters that spread across the page, then returned to the tidy columns again.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked her.

Liz looked at the print out, shook her head.

“You’ve never seen anything like this before?”

She shook her head again. What was he getting at? If he wasn’t so disgusting, she might try to touch him enough to read what he was feeling. “No,” she said aloud. “What is it?”

Mr. Palmer sat back in his chair, easing back like a man who held all of the cards. “It’s some sort of anomaly in our sales reports.”

“Oh.” Liz’s dark eyes drifted to the page again. She still didn’t understand.

“This has happened more than once, Liz.”

She waited patiently. What exact was this?

“And we’ve managed to narrow this phenomenon down to every time you’ve worked for the last week.”

Unable to control it, Liz’s heart started to pound a little faster. She hoped it wasn’t obvious, that he couldn’t see her breath starting to come a little more rapidly. What was he trying to accuse her of?

Struggling to keep her tone level, she asked cautiously, “What does this have to do with me?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. What are you into – computer hacking of some kind? Is this a way to mask true sales while you take from your drawer?”

Liz gave a startled snort. “No. I don’t know much about computers at all. I mean – my drawer has balanced every night.”

Mr. Palmer leaned forward, crossed his arms on the desk. “Maybe you’re not working alone.” His tone was level – apparently he was used to interrogating the errant employee.

Liz simply shook her head. “I assure you I had nothing to do with that,” she said, meeting his eyes levelly. “I’m not interested in stealing from the company. I just want to work, get paid, and live my life.”

He stared back at her for a very long time, then finally sat back in his chair. “Okay. You’re late for your shift.”

She sat frozen for a moment, then stood up and moved for the door.

“And, Liz?”

She turned, her hand on the doorknob.

“I’m watching you.”

* * * * *

One more mid-term to go. Then it was time to break for Thanksgiving and hopefully Max would be able to catch up on some of his sleep.

He sat at the table of their small apartment, his book opened before him. Periodically, he scratched notes in his notebook, but even though he tried to concentrate, there was an annoying distraction vying for his attention. No longer able to take it, he stopped writing and listened for the source of the problem.

On the kitchen counter, the radio was playing, barely audible – the constant, barely-perceptible voices just loud enough to annoy. Liz always listened to the radio while she got ready for work and this time she must have turned it down on accident instead of turning it off. Thinking of Liz made Max smile and his annoyance at the disruption quickly slipped away.

But there was still work to do. Being alien, he raised his hand to silence the radio as he picked up his pencil with the other. He’d only scribbled a few characters when he realized the radio was still playing. Brow furrowed, he lifted his head and concentrated harder. Still the radio played. Trying not to panic, Max dropped the pencil and tried his other hand. Nothing.

Quickly, nearly knocking his chair backward, Max jumped to his feet and lunged toward the offending appliance. One flick of a button and the radio fell mute. Stunned, he looked into his open palm, not panicking no longer an option.

Max was losing his powers.

* * * * *

A little oregano, just a dash of sugar. Michael peered into the stock pot at his bubbling masterpiece – a wonderful pasta sauce that was sure to be his best yet. At moments like these, when it was just him and his creation, he could block out anything. Well, almost anything.

Seated at the kitchen table, Maria had been babbling non-stop. Something about weddings. Michael assumed it had to do with Max and Liz’s marriage – which was turning out to be more dramatic than that of Charles and Lady Di. He’d pretty much heard enough of the plans of the future Evanses and Maria’s babbling simply bored him. To Michael, getting married was as simple as going to the court house and signing on the dotted line. Why all of the fuss?

He’d done a good job of ignoring his girlfriend until a particular comment sparked his curiosity.

“What did you say?” he asked, turned away from the peace and solitude of his dinner.

Maria gave a snort – he never listened to her. “I asked if you wanted to hire a band or get a DJ.”

Michael’s brow furrowed. “Why would I want to do either?”

She sat in confused silence for a moment, then decided she needed to explain some things to him. “Michael, no one is going to hang around at a wedding if there isn’t entertainment of some kind.”

Michael shrugged. “So? Let Max take care of it.”

Maria’s eyebrows drew together. “Why would Max take care of it?”

“It’s his wedding, right?”

“No, silly! I mean for our wedding. I thought we could maybe ask the Whits to come home from England, I mean I’m sure they’d be happy for the gig…why are you looking at me like that?”

Sometimes, Michael couldn’t stop the words that came tumbling out of his mouth. This was one of those times. “Did I ask you to marry me?”

Maria stopped, withdrawing a bit. “Well, no. But you said in your fantasy that you wanted…to marry…me.” She looked away, her expression rather ill.

In his head, Michael heard a warning claxon start to howl. Just a few days ago, Isabel had mentioned that Maria was talking about her wedding to Michael. Somewhere along the way, Maria had misinterpreted everything he’d said about his fantasy – and had come away somehow believing they were engaged.

Michael wasn’t ready to be married. He also wasn’t ready to lose Maria. But he’d already spoken rather harshly and he could see by the expression on her face that things were about to deteriorate quickly.

“You know what,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and avoiding his gaze. “I think I’ll have dinner at my mom’s tonight.”

“Maria,” Michael called as she started to move for the door. “Your mom is in Roswell. It’s a four-hour drive.”

She met his gaze briefly, her eyes cold. “I know.”

Michael watched impotently as she left his and Isabel’s apartment, then kicked himself for never being able to say the right thing.

* * * * *

Revenge.

There was no sweeter thing in the universe. To seek revenge was to right many wrongs, put things the way they were meant to be, to make the arrogant crawl. The king had picked his bride and the wheels had been set into motion. Little did these people know that before great strength came great weakness. They would be vulnerable. They would bleed and beg for death before it was over. She would see to it.

Because hell truly knew no wrath like a woman scorned.

tbc

Part Six

As Liz trudged up the stairs to the apartment, her mind was occupied with the strange events at work that evening. Since she’d been employed at the store, she’d found most of the management to be rather paranoid – which said a lot coming from a person who’d been living with paranoia for many years now. The managers of the supermarket were always sure that someone was stealing from stock or from their drawer. Suspicion and distrust prevailed. In alien terms, Agent Mulder’s mantra of “Trust no one” seemed appropriate. But in the world of produce and canned goods, it seemed ridiculously out of place.

Liz stopped before the door and searched for the right key; she tried to be as quiet as possible since it was now midnight and most of the apartment building’s residents – including her fiancé – were probably asleep. While she flipped through her key ring, her brow furrowed. The report the manager had shown her before she started her shift was troubling. She was sure she hadn’t done anything to produce those strange errors, and she was pretty positive no one else would want to set her up either. The whole thing was confusing.

Thoughts of cynical grocers flitted from Liz’s mind as the door swung open. Max was sitting on the couch, awake, his gaze fixed on the TV. Immediately, she smiled – the sight of Max would always lighten her heart. For one brief moment, she forgot that he should be in bed, that tomorrow he had an early final. The thought occurred to her, however, as she happily made her way over to him and sat down in his lap, circling her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said as she gave him a tight squeeze. “But why are you up?”

He turned unsettled eyes to her and have a little shrug. Liz thought his actions a little out of character and tried to squelch the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“You’ve got an eight a.m. final tomorrow, right?”

He nodded in response.

“Did you get stuck studying late?” Liz brushed his hair from his forehead, wondering if he was exhausted.

“Sort of,” he said quietly, his eyes drifting over her face. “I just really missed you. I wanted to see you before I went to bed.”

Liz’s lips spread into a wide smile and she laid her head against his shoulder, snuggling into him. She so loved this man! How lucky was she to have him?

Her gaze drifted to the television and she grimaced when she didn’t see the program she was hoping would be there.

“Let’s watch Letterman,” she said against his neck.

“Okay,” Max replied. “Where’s the remote?”

Liz gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. Just flick your finger like you always do.”

She waited patiently, but the channel never changed. On top of it, she could feel Max’s body tense beneath her, his breath coming a little quicker. The anxiety she’d managed to conquer only a few moments ago came back in a flood. Lifting her head, she saw in his eyes fear she hadn’t seen since he’d been hauled away from her in a maze of mirrors.

“What is it?” she asked, sitting up straighter, her body as rigid as his.

Max’s dark eyes darted away for a moment, then his words choked out through his lips. “I can’t.”

Liz’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “You can’t? You can’t what, Max?”

“Change the channels.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Sure you can. You do it all the time –“

“Not anymore.” He shook his head vehemently. “I tried to turn off the radio tonight and I couldn’t.”

Liz’s eyes were round; she was speechless.

“Then I tried some other things – nothing.” Max swallowed hard, obviously scared about his new situation. “I’ve lost my powers, Liz.”

Needing to comfort and protect him, Liz took his face between her hands and kissed his forehead. Then she gave him a firm kiss on the lips while he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“Let’s not panic,” she said, smoothing his cheek with her thumb. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to panic, but that was going to get them nowhere. “We don’t know what caused this. You said the other day that you felt like you were changing, right?”

He nodded, his eyes searching hers for answers. “Yes, but what if my changing meant that I lost my powers?”

One corner of Liz’s lip turned up in an ironic smile. “Then you’d be human, wouldn’t you?”

Max was a little stunned – once upon a time he’d told her that all he ever wanted was to be human, to be like everyone else. Now that there was a possibility of that, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Liz knew that he must be experiencing a wave of vulnerability – sure, he might be a strong person physically, able to defend himself in a fight, but he’d always had the alien whammy in his arsenal. Now that that was gone, he must have been feeling like anyone could defeat him.

“Look,” she said soothingly. “Tomorrow is your last final. Then you’re off for Thanksgiving. I think the break will do you good. Maybe your loss of powers is just due to the fact that you’ve been burning the candle at both ends, Max. We’ll rest. We’ll go back home and visit the families. You miss your family, right?”

He nodded silently, taking in her comforting words.

“Then we’ll go see them. We’ll take some time just for ourselves. After that, we’ll worry about why you can’t turn off radios and turn the TV channels.” She gave him a playful grin. “And in the mean time, I’ll protect you.”

Max gave a half-smile and an amused snort.

Liz leaned in and kissed him longer this time, sending him strength and reassurance. Then she curled up against him, lifted her hand and flipped to Letterman.

* * * * *

You’re a stupid, stupid man.

Michael kept thinking those words over and over as he rode his motorcycle closer to Roswell. He was stupid for talking to Maria the way he did – he should have learned in the past five years that she was more sensitive than she seemed and he couldn’t just blurt out his words without putting on the Maria Filter.

He was also stupid for chasing her. He was even more stupid for riding a motorcycle four hours through the desert at night to do so. But what was he going to do? She’d hijacked his car in order to make her escape. Maybe he was even stupid for being with someone who had no job and couldn’t afford to get her own car.

The worst of it all – he’d had to abandon his prize sauce and it was more than likely destroyed.

Glancing in his side mirror, Michael checked to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He’d always been a bit paranoid about that, though lately he’d been better. Until tonight. Tonight, he’d had a creeping feeling that he wasn’t alone, even thought there had been no lights in his mirrors for the last hour and a half. It was just a knee-jerk reaction to Carter’s infiltration of their group, he told himself. Anyone would be overly cautious after that fiasco.

So he rode on, both dreading and anticipating getting to Roswell, checking his mirrors along the way.

* * * * *

The next morning as Max left the lecture hall upon completing his final, he was surprised to find Isabel waiting for him. He broke into a smile and gave her a quick, familial hug.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, obviously happy to see her.

“I just finished a test,” she said. “Are you all done now?”

He nodded, thinking that he’d probably done okay, all things considered.

“Can we go somewhere…to talk?”

Deep in his gut, Max felt the same dread Liz must have felt the night before. This just didn’t look good. “About what?” he asked.

Isabel gave a quick shake of her head. “Not here. Somewhere private.”

They walked out to Max’s car and slid into the front seat. As a precaution, Max raised the roof and they rolled up the windows.

“What’s going on?” he asked her, tossing his books into the back seat.

Isabel worked her hands together in her lap. “I went to see Adam the other day.”

Max’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Adam McKinney? You went to see him?”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that’s new…”

“Look, Max, I didn’t come to give you suspicions of me and Adam.”

Dodging her sharp tongue, Max held up a hand. “Okay, Iz. Truce. I just found it odd that you went to see him when you’ve pretty much wanted nothing to do with him. I didn’t mean that I suspected you two.”

Isabel drew in a deep breath and stared at her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge.”

Max’s eyebrows drew together and he reached over and rubbed her arm. Even if he was powerless in alien terms, he was still her brother and he’d do every thing in his power to help her, whatever the problem was. “It’s okay. Just tell me what happened.”

“Well, I just wanted to know about aliens. You know…in case anyone like Carter came along again.”

Max felt a wave of empathy for his sister – he’d guess that getting over this was going to take her a long time. He did have to admit, however, that taking the initiative to visit Adam was a step in the right direction.

“I wanted to know how I could tell if someone was an alien or not,” she continued.

“What did he say?”

“He said there is no way to tell. But, Max, that’s not what bothered me.”

For the second day in a row, worry was starting to twist in Max’s gut. “What’s troubling you, Iz?”

“Adam said that despite not being able to identify aliens, he could tell immediately that Liz wasn’t like everyone else.”

Max felt like someone had kicked him firmly in the sternum. Breathing was suddenly a chore.

“I’m worried about her,” Isabel continued, her dark eyes full of turmoil. “If the good guys can spot her –“

“Then so can the bad guys,” Max finished, his voice stunned. Not Liz. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Liz.

Isabel bit her lip and nodded her head. “She’s coming along nicely with her powers, but I don’t think she has the strength to defend herself yet. You’re going to have to be very careful with her, Max. You’re going to have to help her defend herself.”

Breathing was now impossible and Max felt the inside of the car sway slightly. Isabel’s voice became a little muffled, like she was talking through her hand.

“Max, you okay?”

He shook his head to clear away the dizziness. “I’m fine. Iz, I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

He looked at her full-on, the cat about to spring from the bag. “I can’t protect her. I’ve lost my powers.”

The interior of the car fell painfully silent. Not in years had they felt so wide-open and vulnerable. In their hearts, they knew that now was the perfect time for their enemies to strike.

tbc

Struggled with this part, and I'm not really sure why

Part Seven

Liz Parker’s eyes shifted from Max to Isabel as she tried to keep her disbelief from showing on her face. She found it humorous that even though the Evans children were half forged from DNA that was unrelated they could still share the exact facial expressions from time to time. Now was one of those times.

The siblings were perched on the very edge of the couch, both of them leaning forward, their hands clasped between their knees, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and vulnerability.

Finally, Liz cleared her throat and pushed her hair behind her ear. Since the hotel fire during the summer, her locks had finally begun to return to their customary length. Of course, a little alien push every now and then didn’t hurt, either.

“Do you think maybe,” she began carefully, “that you two could be overreacting?”

In an instant, their expressions split and divided – Max recoiling slightly in surprise, Isabel’s eyebrows drawing together in belligerence.

“How can you say that?” she asked. “After…after what happened?”

Liz loved Isabel like a sibling she’d never had and she respected all of her opinions, but she knew that she needed to tread lightly – sometimes Isabel didn’t like to have her judgment questioned.

“I understand what you’re trying to say,” Liz said carefully, meeting Isabel’s gaze steadily. It was important to let the alien know that she didn’t regret what she’d said because she had a valid point to make. “But what enemies would know where we are and know that now is the right time to attack us?”

“That’s the point,” Max said, deftly and imperceptibly running interference between the two women. “We just don’t know.” His eyes shifted to his sister; he hoped his next words wouldn’t hurt her. “We were infiltrated recently, easily. We need to be on our guard.”

“I’ll give you that,” Liz agreed. “That’s nothing new. But packing a bag just in case we need to flee?”

That had been Isabel’s sensible idea. They needed to be prepared to bolt if necessary. It reminded Liz of a pregnant woman packing her hospital bag, waiting for delivery day to come.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Max argued gently.

“Max, that’s assuming that we’d be home when the enemy struck.”

Isabel looked at the floor, worked her mouth. Liz caught her actions and felt a moment of empathy for her – it had to be so hard for Isabel to get back on her feet after what Carter had done.

“But I guess if we left the bags in the trunk of the car, we’d be all set,” Liz added as a verbal band-aid.

Isabel gave her a small smile of truce. “I’m not saying that we should be looking over our shoulders every two seconds,” she clarified. “I just think we need to be prepared.”

Liz gave a short nod of her head. If it made them feel better, then she’d pack a survival bag and throw it in the car. But in her heart she knew that if someone really wanted to get to them, they could – and all of the preparation in the world wouldn’t prevent it.

* * * * *

Maria wanted to be happy. She wanted to be overjoyed that she’d found a shivering, sleeping alien on her mother’s porch swing, apparently come to grovel for forgiveness. But Maria also wanted to be angry.

Wiping the smile from her lips, she stretched out her leg and gave the swing a bump with her foot. Immediately, it swung backward and Michael lifted his head, eyes bleary. He started to smile, but Maria lifted a quick eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest and the grin disappeared.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped. “Is it because I stole your car?”

Michael struggled to sit up. His hair was standing up in every direction and Maria was reminded of his high school days when that look had been intentional. He grimaced as he stretched his body, too long to have fit comfortably on the swing.

“No, Maria,” he pointed out in a half-yawn. “If I wanted to take my car back, I wouldn’t have slept on your porch all night just to tell you I was taking it.” He glanced at the door. “Don’t you people answer your doorbell?”

Maria looked at it, then shrugged. “Oh. That’s broken.”

Michael looked at her incredulously for a moment, then shook some of the sleep and disbelief from his head.

“Why did you come here?” she asked, her desire to be a bitch waning.

He pushed himself to his feet and stretched, his fingertips nearly touching the roof of the porch, then groaned and grabbed the small of his back. “To apologize.”

Maria was the one filled with disbelief this time. He’d driven all of the way from Albuquerque to apologize? To her? Well, there was a first for everything…not that she was getting her hopes up. He’d still find a way to blow this as well.

“To apologize?” she asked cautiously.

He nodded and scratched his head – he was still going through his morning rituals. “I am sorry, Maria. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I should have talked to you like a reasonable adult.”

She didn’t let it show on her face, but inside she was grinning.

“But, I never did ask you to marry me.”

Now she was fuming.

Reaching out, Michael rubbed her arm. “I’m not ready. I do want to be with you and maybe someday we can get married, but I’m just not ready for that step yet.”

Maria looked at the porch floor, kicked at a knot hole with the toe of her shoe.

“That’s as honest as I can be,” he said matter-of-factly.

She drew in a breath of patience and tried to find some appropriate retort. Before she could reply, however, he totally knocked her off her feet.

“And this is honest as well – I do love you, Maria. More than you could know.”

She saw nothing but truth in his dark eyes and this time there was no stopping her smile. But as she’d predicted, Michael would always find a way to ruin a mood.

“Think we could go inside? I have to piss like a race horse.”

* * * * *

Isabel leaned back on the couch and put her feet on the coffee table. Closing her eyes, she drank in the sounds coming from her stereo and tried to make her body relax. She wished Michael hadn’t taken off after Maria – not because she didn’t want them to be together, but because she would feel safer with him in Albuquerque. Right now, she was the only one who had stable powers – Max’s were pretty much on the fritz and Liz was still learning to use hers. If anything happened…

She wouldn’t let herself think of that. Instead, she concentrated on every note coming from the stereo. One of the classes she’d taken out of curiosity had been Music Appreciation. Most of her life she’d listened to pop and since she’d moved in with Michael she’d been subjected to nonstop Metallica, but the course had opened up all new doors for her. Never did she think she’d buy a classical album, but all it had taken was one session on operatic compositions and she’d been at the music store the next day.

It was somewhat astounding to Isabel that one didn’t need to understand the words to feel the gut-wrenching pain and beauty of opera. Simply the tone of the singer’s voice, the crescendo of the music, could bring her to tears. Just as she was slipping farther into the trance of the music, a knock at the door jarred her from total relaxation.

Swearing softly, she removed her feet from the coffee table and retrieved the remote to turn down the stereo. At the door, she was surprised to find Adam McKinney with a small puff of fur cradled in his arm. He gave her a quick grin, then looked cautiously around her, into the apartment.

“Is your roommate home?” he asked, looking like he was tensing for battle.

Isabel couldn’t help the grin that crept to her face. “No,” she said as she shook her head. “He went home to Roswell for a bit.”

Adam’s body relaxed visibly. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed.

Isabel laughed lightly, then pointed to the ball of fur. “What’s that?”

Adam glanced down as though he’d just noticed he was carrying an animal of some kind. “Oh, that. She’s why I’m here. Can I come in?”

She apologized for being rude and stepped aside to let him in. Closing the door, she turned and waited for an explanation. Curiously, she felt a little relieved now that she wasn’t alone.

“This is Nikita,” Adam said, moving his arm so that the kitten would raise its head.

Isabel guessed the cat was maybe half grown and was of some Siamese descent, though she doubted entirely. Probably a “mutt” of some kind. The poor creature seemed petrified, its blue eyes large and round, its manner that of a being deciding if it should take flight.

“She’s beautiful,” Isabel said, wondering what it was like to pet her.

Adam nodded and gave the kitten a scratch on the head. “She is. I think she might be part Blue Point. She’s definitely Siamese of some kind – she likes to talk. A lot.” He rolled his eyes and Isabel giggled. “I found her in the garbage dumpster about a month ago,” he explained. “Someone just tossed her in there.”

Isabel looked back to the kitten, meek in its rescuer’s arms, and wondered who could be so cruel.

Adam picked up the kitten in one hand and turned it over so that Isabel could see one of its back legs. “She was beaten or something – her leg was broken. I got it all fixed, but I can’t keep her.”

Isabel’s gaze snapped to his. Is this where she came in? “Why didn’t I see her when I visited you?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “She was probably hiding under my bed. She doesn’t trust too easily.” He frowned. “I guess I wouldn’t either, if I had gone through what she did.”

Isabel’s eyes returned to the kitten. They were kindred spirits.

Adam’s eyes were nearly as blue as the cat’s. “She just wants to be loved,” he said. “And I thought maybe you could use something to love, something that would love you unconditionally in return.”

Isabel felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and had to fight them back.

“Do you think you could take her?” Adam asked. “My landlady likes her, but she’s allergic and can’t have the dander in the house.”

Afraid to speak for fear of letting her emotions show, Isabel nodded and reached to take the kitten from Adam. Instead of recoiling or trying to flee, it began to purr as soon as she touched it.

* * * * *

The next morning, Liz stretched and slowly blinked her eyes open. She never awoke on her own – usually, Max was the source of her disturbed slumber, whether it be the sound of the shower or his insatiable morning affections. Her brow furrowed and she looked at the clock – it was almost ten.

Startled, she rolled over quickly and found Max sleeping on his side beside her. Panic drained away and she reached out to touch his face. Inside, her heart ached for him – he must have been so exhausted to oversleep this way. Teasingly, she leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss. He grunted something and continued to sleep.

“Max,” she said playfully. “Time to get up for breakfast.” She stifled her giggle behind her hand.

He nuzzled his head into his pillow, drew in a deep breath, then cracked his eyes open.

“Hi,” she said happily, breaking into a wider grin.

He smiled weakly in return.

“It’s almost ten,” she said. “Shouldn’t we get up and start our vacation? Maybe a little aerobic exercise to get us started?”

Max’s brow furrowed a bit as he eyes drifted shut. “Not now,” he mumbled. “Let’s sleep just a little longer…just a little longer…”

Liz’s smile fell away – he was already sleeping again. Somewhat disappointed, she lowered her head to her own pillow and studied his face. She could tell herself over and over that his exhaustion was just due to studying and finals and work, but she knew in her heart that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was that Max was getting weaker.

tbc

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Nikita is my kitty. This is a little tribute to her Her story is similar in that she was also abused and abandoned. Bastard.

Part Eight

Vacation plans were cancelled.

Max spent most of his days sleeping. Since he’d asked for the holidays off, no one at work missed him; not that he could have made it through a whole day anyway. While he slept, Liz would often lie next to him and look for any signs that he was improving or worsening. To her relief, he seemed to be stabilizing. To her chagrin, he also didn’t appear to be getting any better.

His skin was warm, warmer than normal. Always, Max had been Liz’s own personal heating blanket, his body temperature higher than hers. But now sometimes being next to him was uncomfortable. His skin had a slightly flushed cast to it, a thin sheen of perspiration above his lip. Sometimes Liz would put her hand on his chest and feel for the “changes” he had described a few weeks ago, differences he had felt in his body; but she never detected anything.

At Max’s insistence, Liz returned to work at the store, canceling her plans to take the holiday off. After all, Mr. Palmer had looked upon her with great displeasure when she’d announced she’d be traveling for Thanksgiving – it was one of the busiest grocery times of the year and he couldn’t be short a cashier. Ironically, he didn’t appear that pleased to see her return early. Liz pretty much decided there was never going to be anything she could do to appease that man.

With Liz back at work, Isabel felt compelled to be her brother’s keeper. With no Michael around to keep Nikita company, Isabel tucked her new ball of fluff under her arm and went to Max’s apartment. Even if she wouldn’t voice the thought aloud, she was worried about her brother.

She watched him sleeping on the couch, his face turned into the back cushion, and her brow furrowed slightly. They’d never been sick, neither of them. Is this what the flu was like? How did he feel inside? Scratching the kitten’s ears, Isabel had a fleeting thought to dreamwalk Max, but they’d long ago made a pact not to use their powers on the other without advance warning – unless it was an emergency.

Isabel thought about that for a moment. Was it an emergency? Not yet, she didn’t suppose. Liz had indicated that Max was still eating, that he was rather cheerful when he was awake. But it was the constant need for rest that troubled Isabel. That and the fact that he still showed no signs of regaining his powers…

Nikita let out a squawk, one of her contented chirps and Isabel looked down into her gray face and couldn’t help but smile. As Adam had predicted, she was a chatty little cat, constantly purring or talking. Now she was blinking up at Isabel and kneading gently on her arm. This wasn’t the same skittish, frightened animal that had landed in her household a few days before. Isabel was astounded at what a little love and gentle touching could heal.

Thinking back on her childhood, she was surprised to recall that she’d never had a pet. Max had had a Guinea pig he’d named Big Foot that had met a rather tragic end, but Isabel had never had so much as a hamster. Why was that? It wasn’t that she didn’t like animals. Maybe in her Ice Princess days, she’d been too self-absorbed to care about anything else. Michael Guerin would probably disagree with that self-assessment, given the number of times she’d fed him and went without.

Nikita jumped down off Isabel’s lap and stretched her thin body, letting out a feline yawn. She looked around confused for a moment, then turned to her owner and started chatting up a storm. Isabel quickly jumped to action, trying to hush her before she woke up Max. Food – right. She dug in her bag and produced a can of food, which only increased the desperate pleas at her feet.

“Shh, kitty!” she admonished.

But being spoken to only encouraged more racket.

“What is that horrible noise?” Max groaned as he rolled over.

Isabel froze, half stooped over her mouthy friend, her face a mask of guilt. “I’m sorry, Max.”

Rubbing his eyes, he focused on the creature making a figure eight through his sister’s legs, begging for its dinner. “What is that?” he asked, his voice amused.

Isabel cleared her throat and straightened. “That’s Nikita.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Nikita.”

She nodded. “She needed a home, so I…took…her…Never mind, it’s a long story.” She didn’t want to bring up Adam again; she didn’t want to see that hopeful, wishful look on her bother’s face.

“Well, feed it before it has a convulsion,” Max said, rearranging his pillow beneath his head and reaching for the remote control.

Isabel took her charge to the kitchen, where she opened the can of food and placed it on a plate before the cat. Amazingly, it continued to purr while it ate. Isabel wondered if eating would ever make her that happy…

Back in the living room, she reclaimed her seat and stole side-long glances at Max. He had fatigue circles under his eyes and his cheeks were flushed a soft red. Was he running a fever?

“What does it feel like?” she asked curiously, unable to stop herself.

He glanced her way. “What?”

“Being sick.”

He didn’t seem offended by her question. Instead, he pondered for a moment. “I ache. I feel hot all of the time. When I sleep, my dreams are all messed up.”

That piqued her interest. “In what way?”

“Just crazy crap,” he replied. “Like one night I dreamed Liz and I were making dinner, but we didn’t have anything we needed. We kept having to go back to the store. But we couldn’t remember to get everything at once, so we’d start to make dinner again, then have to quit and go to the store again. Over and over.”

One corner of Isabel’s mouth lifted into a smirk.

“See?” he half-laughed. “Crazy shit.”

She nodded and looked blankly at the TV.

“Iz, I want you to go to Roswell for Thanksgiving.”

When she looked back to him, she saw no humor in his eyes. He was serious. “Max, I’m not going without you.”

“You have to. We can’t do this to Mom and Dad. They’re used to me bailing out on holidays, but they’ll expect you to be there.”

Isabel didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to leave Max here defenseless, in case her fears came true.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his eyes creased at the corners with a slight grin. “We’ll be okay. You shouldn’t be punished because I’m not well. And neither should Mom and Dad. Please, Iz, go.”

She couldn’t agree to it readily. Now more than ever, they needed to be cautious. “I’ll see,” she said vaguely, dropping the subject.

* * * * *

Being in the Crashdown after all this time was weird. There was the usual crowd of teenagers, high school students, but now all of those faces were unfamiliar. Michael looked at them each in turn, trying to remember if he knew any of them. After all, they’d only been out of school for a couple of years – some of these people had to have been underclassmen when they were seniors. Then again, Michael was never at school often enough to know much of anybody.

“God,” Maria said from across the booth, her lip turned up on one end. “I feel so…old.”

“I think it’s just the amount of time we’ve been waiting to order our food,” Michael quipped, fingering his menu. “Think you could strap on the apron and take our order?”

She tilted her head. “Think you could go back there and cook it for us?”

He grinned; his culinary skills so surpassed those of a short-order cook these days. “Of course I could. I could turn this place into Chez Crashdown.” He said ‘Crashdown’ with a French accent and Maria giggled.

It felt good to hear her laugh. While he’d been riding through the desert, hunting her, he thought that maybe this was it, that maybe their quota on arguments had been filled. He was more than delighted to see that wasn’t the case.

“So, what’s the plan?” she was asking when he tuned back in.

“The plan?”

“For the holidays. What are we going to do?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m out of school for the week. I don’t need to be back for anything. Do you want to stay here for awhile?”

Maria beamed. Michael knew that she missed her mother. He also knew that in a few short days, she would be ready to be away from her again.

“Yeah,” she agreed readily. “I do. Let’s visit all of the old haunts.”

“The old haunts?” he echoed, retrieving some sugar packets from the holder, wishing he had some coffee to dump them in.

“Yeah. The old soap factory, the quarry, the pod…” Her voice drifted off as realization crossed her face. “We don’t have many old haunts, do we?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. We don’t.”

They were smiling fondly at one another when Mr. Parker appeared at the end of the booth. “Well, if it isn’t two of my old employees!”

Maria stood and gave him a hug.

“Don’t call her old,” Michael warned. “She was just complaining about feeling it.”

Mr. Parker laughed as he released her and shook Michael’s hand. “How are you, son?”

“Good, sir. Good.” Michael knew that Liz’s dad had been more than aware of his personal struggles while working in the kitchen. But never did he bring any of it up, simply offered silent support when Michael needed it.

“And culinary school?”

“Oh, he’s the best!” Maria spouted. “But he’s making me fat.”

Jeff Parker laughed, then eyed the table. No coffee, the menus still in place. “Have you been waited on?”

They shook their heads simultaneously.

“I’ll take care of that,” he announced, then disappeared into the kitchen.

“Whoo, I don’t envy that girl,” Maria commented. “Slacking on the job, let alone slacking to two former employees. Sorry about her luck.”

In a few moments, a young girl came to their table, her demeanor that of someone who had just been reprimanded. Maria eyed the waitress’s outfit with a smirk. Mr. Parker apparently hadn’t thought to update the Star Trek rejects yet. They ordered their breakfast, the waitress filled Michael’s coffee cup then moved away without enthusiasm.

“Did I have that much attitude?” Maria asked.

“More,” Michael confirmed, pouring packet after packet of sweetener into his coffee. He was about to look up to see Maria’s reaction when he heard a giggle behind him, a laugh that caught him totally off guard.

Spinning around in his seat, Michael’s dark eyes searched the back of the café. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blond hair near the counter and quickly jumped to his feet, his eyes panning the faces for the source of the laugh. The blond hair was gone, the giggle dissipated.

“Jesus, Michael, did something bite you?” Maria asked, her voice a strained whisper.

Body tingling with the sudden fright, Michael turned to his girlfriend. His coffee was flowing across the table and dripping onto the floor; Maria was trying to mop it up with a fistful of napkins. He must have knocked it over when he’d jumped from his seat.

“What?” he asked numbly.

“What got into you?” she asked, looking up at him worriedly.

A persistent pain started behind his eyes. “Nothing,” he answered unsteadily. “I’ll go get a dishrag and a mop.”

Michael’s knees were wobbling as he made his way to the back of the restaurant. On his way, he passed their distressed-looking waitress and waved her off, telling her he’d take care of the mess. Being in the kitchen brought back many feelings, many emotions, happy times, good times, bad times…

Times he’d rather forget.

* * * * *

They were stupid. All of them. How typically arrogant that they’d still be hanging around this little burgh, overconfident in their invincibility. She’d found two of them.

Only three to go.

tbc

Hey guys, I'll fb fb later.


Part Nine

“Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Elizabeth Parker to Maxwell Evans.”

Max smiled down at his bride, her face hidden beneath her veil. He knew it was his Liz, though, without even having to see her face – he could feel her all around him, surrounding him, making him complete. Within his hand, he held her tiny fingers tight against his. They would remain like this forever. Man and wife. King and Queen.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Wait – wasn’t some other stuff supposed to happen in between those two sentences? Max’s mind drift quickly away from that thought as he raised Liz’s veil and gazed into her round, dark eyes. She was smiling at him, the same gentle smile she always gave him. He couldn’t stand it. Sweeping in, he pulled her body to his and devoured her, his lips and tongue assaulting her mouth. Her kiss was so warm, so familiar…so wrong.

Startled, pulling back, Max looked not into brown eyes, but blue ones. And the smile was no longer one of gentle, tender love – it was twisted and evil. Immediately he released her and started to scream…

“Jesus, Max, wake up!”

Max’s eyes flew open and he knew immediately that something was horribly wrong. Sweat had soaked through his pajamas and thick hair, but he was shivering uncontrollably. He couldn’t focus on anything and there was a dull ringing in his ears. His mouth felt as thought it was stuffed with cotton.

“Max, look at me!” Liz said desperately, cradling his head in her hands.

He tried to focus on her and couldn’t.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” she muttered, her words sounding like they were coming from the far end of a tunnel. “Max, we have to get you to the bathtub.”

Bathtub? He closed his eyes, trying to remember how he’d gotten from his wedding to Liz demanding he move for the bathtub.

“No!” Liz squeaked frantically. “Stay with me, Max! Open your eyes!”

He did as he was told, and soon realized that Liz was trying to pull him upright. He didn’t want to go – he wanted to go back to sleep, if only to figure out what had happened after they got married.

“Please try to help me,” Liz said desperately. “Max, you’re too heavy for me.”

Somehow he was on his feet, but the room had an odd tilt to it. Strange – he didn’t remember it being off-kilter before. Bizarre that a building in this condition passed building code…A lamp loomed close and he had to swerve to avoid it.

“Whoa!” Liz warned, her voice strained. “Easy, Max. We’re only going to the bathroom. Little steps, that’s it.”

Why was she talking to him this way? Like he was a two-year-old? Those thoughts vanished as he felt the cold porcelain of the tub beneath his body. Immediately, he shivered and tried to move away from it, but Liz held him in his place.

“I know it’s cold,” she said. “But you have to get in. I’m sorry.”

She helped him swing his legs over the side of the tub and then he was in very cold water. He was barely aware that a cry escaped his lips. Then he felt her hands in his hair, soothing him, apologizing but saying that it was necessary. In his mind, Max remembered two men holding him down in a tub of ice and he tried to fight against her, against the trauma of being tortured.

There was little strength in him, however, and soon his world went hazy, then dark…

* * * * *

Michael Guerin’s dark eyes panned across the star-lit sky. While living in Albuquerque, he’d forgotten that without as many streetlights, the stars were uncountable. But it wasn’t star-gazing he was interested in.

Michael wanted answers.

Since he’d been a boy, newly out of his pod, he’d looked to the sky for answers and had never found any. Why he was standing here now, on Mrs. Deluca’s back porch, was beyond him. Maybe the stars owed him something for his patience and now was the time to pay up. He squinted, bugged his eyes out, rubbed them, kept looking. For anything, anything at all. Anything that would explain what had happened earlier that day.

“Okay, Guerin, spill it.”

Michael whirled, his hand extended in the direction of the voice. At the base of the stairs, Maria was holding both of her hands out in the surrender position.

“Whoa, Spaceboy,” she laughed. “Don’t shoot.”

Letting out an annoyed sigh, he dropped his hand and Maria mounted the steps.

“So,” she prompted. “Spill it.”

“Spill what?” he asked emotionlessly as his eyes continued to search the sky.

Maria cocked her head and followed his gaze. “What you’re looking for.”

“Haley’s comet,” he answered without hesitation.

She lifted one corner of her mouth. “Yeah, got a few more years to wait for that one, Michael. Tell me what you’re really looking for.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Who says I’m looking for anything? Maybe I just wanted to look at the stars.”

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

Silence hung heavily in the air while Maria waited for an answer and Michael avoided producing one.

“Michael,” she finally reminded.

He gave her a glance of annoyance, then sighed again, trying to give her the hint that she was starting to get on his nerves.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, her tone firm. “I think I know what you’re looking for.”

“You do?” he said, his voice flat.

“You’re trying to figure out what happened today.”

At that, his head whipped in her direction. “What happened today?”

A victorious grin curved her full lips. “You tell me.”

Nabbed, Michael pursed his lips, then gestured toward the top step, for them to sit. Maria folded her hands between her knees and waited for an explanation. He kicked at a leaf that had fallen onto the steps and gave her an uneasy glance.

“I’m not sure anything happened,” he confessed.

“Oh, please!” Maria erupted. “Don’t even try to pull that crap on me, Michael! I watched you flip out and dump coffee all over the place. Something happened.”

He bit his lip and cringed slightly. Internally, he kicked himself for never quite getting that Maria knew him inside and out. “I heard a laugh.”

She waited patiently for more and received nothing. “And?”

“It was familiar.”

Fighting back the urge to strangle him, she made a rolling motion with her hand. “Keep going.”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded.

Maria looked into the shadows of her mother’s small backyard, her brow furrowed. “And that was enough for you to look to the cosmos?”

Another nod.

“Michael, why do I always have to drag everything out of you? Whose laugh was it?”

“Someone blond.” He held up a hand before she could spout off about his ambiguity. “Someone not nice.”

“Not nice,” Maria echoed.

“Yeah. I know I’ve heard that laugh before and when I thought I heard it again, it sent chills up my spine.”

“Okay, well, there are only so many evil blonds we know.”

“For instance?” he asked, hoping her constant questions would help the answer come to him.

“Courtney?” It took all of Maria’s power not to spit out the word. She’d never forget that Little Miss Skin had almost come between them.

“Courtney’s dead,” Michael snorted.

“Are you sure?” Maria countered. “Did you see her die?”

Inside, he deflated and shook his head. No, no he hadn’t. He only had Nicholas’s word on that one. But he knew that Courtney wasn’t evil – she’d been on his side. Not that he would mention that to Maria. “Who else?”

“Ava?”

“Ava wasn’t blond, she was…whatever you call someone with pink hair. Besides, she helped us instead of harming us.”

Maria tipped her head in agreement – he had her there. “Lonnie?”

They both sat silently, thinking about that. It was possible. Lonnie had mysteriously disappeared in New York, never to be seen again. That didn’t mean she was dead. And she certainly had the motive to harm them – especially since Max had refused to give up the granilith.

“Who else?” Michael prompted, not wanting to think about Lonnie and her conniving ways.

“Well, there’s only the queen bitch herself left,” Maria said matter-of-factly.

He furrowed his brow. “Who? Tess?”

Maria nodded.

“Oh, please. She’s gone. Dead in outer space somewhere.”

“Once again, Michael, are you sure?”

Suddenly he felt sick. Carter had informed them of Tess’s demise. And he was as reliable as Nicholas.

* * * * *

Liz sat in the rocker in her bedroom, her heels planted on the edge of the seat, her knees pulled up to her chin. The morning sun was just starting to shine through her curtains, leaving her room washed in a muted, clean light.

On the bed, Max was sleeping motionlessly. His color was bad, most of its golden hue robbed over a long, stressful night. His hair was still wet from the bath, his body nude beneath the sheet Liz had drawn over him. Nerves frayed, she chewed on her thumbnail, her eyes never leaving him.

She’d almost lost him. His fitful tossing and turning had awakened her around three in the morning, and when she’d tried to wake him, she’d realized that he was on fire. His body temperature had sky-rocketed and he was close to going into convulsions. Getting him to the tub hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed. Then it had been trip after trip to the refrigerator to get more ice to put in the tub; she’d learned to heat things with her fledgling powers, but not cool them. She’d resorted to filling any receptacle she could find with water, placing it in the freezer, then forcing the appliance to work overtime to make the ice quicker.

It had been a long night, but Liz was barely aware of that. In her heart, she felt fear like she’d never known before. To see Max, once so powerful and strong, unable to even push her out of the way so he could get out of the tub was gut-wrenching. Via their connection, she’d seen what Pierce’s monsters had done to him and she loathed herself for having no other option than to do the same.

Rising shakily to her feet, she crossed over to the bed and sat on the edge, beside Max’s hip. Almost afraid of what she’d find, she placed her hand on his chest and felt for his pulse. His heart rate had dropped considerably, a definite sign that his temperature had as well. Beneath her hand, she could feel that his skin was cooler than it had been. She left her hand there for a few moments, comforted by the apparent normalcy of his condition, then climbed over him and stretched out beside him.

He’d barely been able to breathe, the air wheezing and scraping as it had entered and left his lungs. She watched his face and listened carefully, but could detect no more signs that he was struggling for air. Frustration and fear finally produced a single tear that rolled silently across her cheek.

Despite his mother’s message that Max would one day be one of the most powerful beings in the universe, Liz wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

tbc

Part Ten

“I dreamed we were dancing.”

Liz lifted her head, her eyes adjusting to the bright afternoon sunlight. She must have fallen asleep, exhausted from her all-night bathing of Max. He was awake, smiling weakly at her.

“What did you say?” she asked, sweeping her hair from her face and pushing herself up on her elbows.

“We were dancing,” he repeated, his words slow and thin. “You were wearing a red dress.”

Discretely, she scanned his face, studied his eyes, trying to determine if he was delirious. “I was? Where were we?” she indulged him.

“Up on the roof.” His eyes rolled that way and he blinked slowly before turning back to her. “It was sundown and the sky was pink and orange and you were wearing a red dress.”

Slowly, Liz’s lips curved into a smile. “Sounds colorful.”

“And I held you in my arms as we danced. I didn’t care about anything, only that we were together.”

She bit her lip, forcing her tears to stay behind her eyes.

As if the action was an effort, Max lifted one of his arms, giving her clearance to his embrace. “Let me hold you,” he whispered tiredly.

Liz slid beneath his arm and felt it fall heavily across her back. Stretching across his chest, she smoothed her cheek against his skin and wrapped her arm around him.

“Is this okay?” she asked as her head rose and fell with his exhausted breathing.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Already she could tell he was starting to fall back to sleep, back to his world of distorted visions.

“Max?” Liz said against his chest.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t leave me yet.”

He snorted a small laugh and gave her shoulder a short caress. “I’m not going anywhere, Liz. I’m not going anywhere…”

* * * * *

Busy day, tons of customers. Adam frowned. He had thought that once the college students left for the holiday, business would slow down and he wouldn’t need to put in so many shifts at the cafe. Problem was, many of those fleeing college students were also cafe employees and there was no one to cover their shifts. Except, it seemed, for Adam.

He wanted to get out of there early. He needed to stop by and see how Isabel and Nikita were making out. Okay, he didn’t need to, but he sure wanted to. He’d seen a spark of life in Isabel’s dark eyes when he’d given her that kitten; little by little, he thought just maybe he was managing to break through her over-protective exterior. He would remain at a distance and let her come out on her own, but he’d also make sure his existence wasn’t forgotten.

Squelching the urge to sigh in boredom, Adam took the customer’s check and rang up his order, gave him change. It was an endless cycle of the same, customer after customer. After awhile, he didn’t even really have the time to look up and address his guests.

“Cash?” he asked, holding out his hand for the next customer’s check, his eyes scanning the register to make sure it was cleared from the previous order.

“Are you ready?”

No check in hand, Adam looked up, puzzled at his visitor’s words. Immediately, he took a step back. The person wasn’t physically threatening in any way – on the contrary, he was built much like Adam, thin and gangly. It was the power in his eyes, the determination and intensity he saw there that had taken Adam aback.

“I-I’m sorry?” he stammered.

The man leaned conspiratorially across the counter. “The time will come, my brother, when we must all choose sides,” he whispered hotly. “Will you be ready?”

Adam emitted a nervous laugh. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man straightened. “You will.” He gave him one last look, then walked without hurry from the café.

Adam stared after him, dumbfounded. Somehow, he almost preferred to have someone like Michael Guerin come in and threaten his life as opposed to what that strange creature had just done. My brother? What did that mean? And a time to choose a side? For what?

As Adam methodically took the next person’s money, his heart was in his throat and his stomach was starting to churn at the very thought of conflict. He was Numorian, after all – confrontation was simply against his nature.

* * * * *

She’s making you weak.

Who’s making me weak?

You know who.

Don’t be silly. Liz is what makes me strong.

No, you’re wrong. You’ve been lied to. She’ll sap every ounce of life out of you before she is done.

That’s ridiculous. She’s taking care of me. Why would she want to hurt me?

She wants the power all to herself. She wants your power all to herself.

That’s not true…is it?

Don’t wait too long, Max. Cut her loose before she can succeed…

* * * * *

Liz stared despondently into her coffee cup, her head light from lack of food and sleep. At the stove, Isabel was boiling rice, making dinner for all of them.

“Do you need a refill?” she asked, stopping by the table and reaching for Liz’s cup.

“No, I’m fine, Isabel,” she sighed. “But thanks anyway.”

The alien returned to the stove and Liz watched her with more respect than she ever thought she would have for Max’s sister. They’d saved each other’s lives, they should be “even” – but Liz knew that Isabel was family now, that there would never be any keeping score. The girls had bonded and Liz was nearly as close to Isabel as she was to Maria.

Placing a lid on the stock pot, Isabel wiped her hands on a dish towel then took the seat across from Liz.

“Is he sleeping?” she asked.

“Last time I checked.”

“God, Liz, that must have been so terrifying,” Isabel breathed.

Liz nodded mutely.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“What could you have done?” Liz asked, her tone void of confrontation.

Isabel smirked lightly. “I can make ice, Liz. It might have saved you and the refrigerator a lot of stress.”

Liz smiled tiredly at that. “I can’t wait for the electric bill.”

Isabel laughed, then reached across the table and took Liz’s hand briefly. “Next time, call me.”

Liz gave her an understanding nod, then scrubbed her face with her fingers. “I just don’t know what to do anymore, Iz. I thought he was getting better…”

“I will agree with you that it seems like this has been going on for a long time, but there must be a reason for it.”

“What reason?”

Isabel leaned back in her chair and easily folded her arms across her midsection. “I believe what my mother said, Liz. I think that Max must be going through some transformation right now.”

Liz stared at the table top, then slowly shook her head. “He was close to dying, Isabel. How is he supposed to gain all of that power if he’s dead?”

Isabel’s eyes creased at the corners when she smiled. “I think that’s where you come in. As long as you’re together, I think this will work itself out.”

Liz pondered that for a long moment, then said, “Maybe. Listen, can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Are you going to Roswell for Thanksgiving?”

Isabel sighed. “Max wants me to…”

Liz sipped her cooling coffee, waved her hand to reheat it. “Then I guess you should.”

“Yeah, but with him being the way he is…”

“But you just said it was important that I stay with him.”

Isabel froze, a victim of her own words, as Liz gave her a knowing smirk. “You got me there. But, he’s still my little brother.”

“Yeah, I know.” Liz’s dark eyebrows drew together. “He said something about you getting a cat. Was that another hallucination?”

Isabel laughed. “No, I really got one. She’s a Siamese mix – a hybrid like me.”

Liz allowed herself a little giggle. It felt good to be talking about something else other than Max dying. “Where did you find her?”

“I didn’t. She found me.”

Liz raised an eyebrow.

Giving a little shrug, Isabel relented. “Okay, Adam gave it to me.”

Both of Liz’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Something you want to explain, Isabel?”

Suddenly nervous, Isabel toyed with the hem of her shirt. “No, it’s not like that. He’s just…a nice guy. And I do believe that Alex sent him to us. I’ve just decided not to be so…”

“Cold?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve decided not to be so cold to him.”

Liz hid her grin behind her coffee cup as Isabel rose to check the rice.

“Almost ready,” she announced. “Let’s get ready to go feed Sleeping Beauty.”

* * * * *

Max’s subconscious knew that someone was calling his name, that he should wake up and acknowledge whoever it was. Fighting against the exhaustion, he forced his eyes open. The room was one big blur, nothing more than gray tones. Within the shadows, he spotted two distorted figures, one taller than the other, approaching him. In his delusion, he saw large heads, thin limbs. They were carrying something – weapons? Experimental equipment?

“Whoa, it’s okay,” one of them said. “Take a minute to wake up.”

He felt soft hands on his shoulder, easing him back to the bed. He lay there for some time, calming the dull ache in his head, the ringing in his ears. Eventually, he opened his eyes and found Liz sitting at his side, her smile wide and gentle. Isabel was behind her, standing at the foot of the bed. The smell of warm food greeted his hungry senses.

“There you are,” Liz said, cheerful. “Hungry?”

He nodded tiredly and shakily pushed himself so that he was reclined against the headboard.

“Isabel made some chicken and rice,” Liz announced.

Max looked over Liz’s shoulder and smiled wanly at his sister. “Smells good,” he slurred.

As Liz went about cutting his chicken into small pieces, Max had a sudden flash of a wedding to someone that was not his fiancé, a kiss that was familiar but unwelcome, and an unsettling warning…

Don’t wait too long, Max. Cut her loose before she can succeed…

A tiny ball of fear started to twist in his gut. He was pretty sure the pretty girl sitting before him was faithful, true and loyal. The problem was that he could no longer be sure if other things were real or not. And if he couldn’t tell if those things were real, how could he be sure she was real?

Horrified, Max realized he was slowly beginning to lose his grip on reality.

tbc