Everything But You M/L YTEEN 15th Jan COMPLETE

[panther_girl]

Title: Everything But You

Author: panther_girl

Rating: YTEEN

Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell or its characters. The song used in this story and the tile which derives from the song belong to a TOP aussie band THIRSTY MERC. The song used is obviously Everything But You. If you haven't heard of this band you can check them out at http://www.thirstymerc.com
Some Inspiration was also gained fomr the movie The Notebook.


Pairing: this a Max/Liz fic

summary: If I tell you to much it will give away the story so I can really say is that It's classics love story, hopefully told in a different way.
There may be a tissue warning.

Please read and let me know what you think. Your thoughts are very highly regarded.














Prologue


She sits on the swing in the park where he told her he would meet her humming to herself. Her arms are wrapped around herself to protect her body from the cold. She sits in a red sweater, the material is thinner then she would usually wear this time of year and she knows she should have dressed warmer, but she also knows that this is his favourite sweater. A white beanie with ear muffs and devil horns adorns her head and white knee length ski boots over her faded levi jeans completes her attire.

She wanted to look her best for him today, but weather does not permit.

She sits and she waits. Her eyes scanning the isolated park, her teeth beginning to chatter in the coldness of the night. She rubs her gloved hands together in an attempt to keep the blood circulating, an attempt which proves unsuccessful.

The wind begins to howl around her, her body cutting a lonely figure in the park. She knows the storm will be here soon; but still she waits; after all, he told her this was where he would be.

She feels the first rain drop as it hits her face and rolls down falling onto her sweater. She makes no attempt to swipe it away, and she makes no attempt to move for cover.

He told her rain, hail or shine.

She would be there; rain hail or shine.

The wind suddenly stops howling and the rain suddenly stops falling; she continues to hum.

She knows the tune to this song well, however as she sits in the park waiting for him, the words fail to come to her mind.

They always do this time of year.

She looks up to the sky and notices only for the first time, that not a star is in sight. She continues to hum. She is now unusually bothered that the words still will not come to her.

Unlike other nights, tonight she wants to sing.

Her humming is all that breaks the silence of the night. She has lost all track of time, but still she sits and waits because he told her he would come.

She does not seem to be aware as her humming through the silence of the night is broken by the howling of animals, or how the stillness of the night is broken as leaves are suddenly swept up around her.

She continues to hum even as the howling of the wind picks up and lightning brightens up the once dark sky. Her hum is drowned out by the consistent claps of thunder, but still she sits and still she waits.

He told her he would be here. And she told him she would wait.

A lightening bolt strikes a tree not even ten meters from her, knocking a branch to the ground. A gust of wind takes the branch and it lands by her feet, but she is seemingly oblivious.

She is becoming unusually agitated that the words to the song she continues to hum will not come to her. She tells herself that when he arrives they will go back and play the CD, and then she will be able to sing.

But until them she realizes she will have to be content with humming.

She is the calm in the eye of the storm, and as lightening continues to strike around her, one bolt hits the swing in which she sits.

The humming stops, the gusty winds blow no more; the rumbles of thunder are nullified.

The darkness of the storm overtakes her.


………………………………………………………..


The Beginning


I think about you every second and I wonder if I am in your thoughts. I watch as each winter turns into spring and still you do not come back to me. I am scared for you, but I know you will do whatever it takes to return. I hear stories and see images; in every story I hear, I yearn for your name to be said, but there are some stories when I am glad that your name is not mentioned. It takes everything within me to push these stories to the back of my mind.
Images are beamed via television screens continuously. I sit glued, intently watching for an image that will show to me you are alive. It is only when images of the dead are shown that I turn away. This is when my words are written, for it is when I write that I feel closest to you.
And when the images of the dead disappear from the screen, I return to my seat on the couch and watch intently for you once again.

…………………………………………..


My love, as I sit here writing to you, guns continue to fire in the distance and bombs continue to explode around me. I lost a friend today; guilt is invading my conscience; all that runs through my mind, is that I am glad it wasn’t me; for if it was me I would never get to see you again; never get to tell you how much you mean to me.

I do not write to burden you with my thoughts though, I write to tell you I miss you every day, and I will continue to miss you, until the day we are standing in front of one another again.

Even then, I will miss you, until you are safely in my arms.

I know I am luckier then most men. I take that back, I know I am luckier then all men, for I have the image of your beautiful face to guide me through the battle fields, and I live knowing I have you to return to.

And I will, some how or another, I will find my way back to you.

Some men don’t have anyone waiting back at home for them; these are the men I feel sorriest for; they are the ones with the least to fight for.
Is it wrong of me to say that those men that they fight alongside must be the luckiest? For they have no one back home to fight for, they fight for the person next to them.
I feel guilty as I say it.

These men are the true heroes.

Me? I’m just fighting to get back to my love.
Them? They are fighting for me, so I can get back to you.
Pray for me. But I think more importantly, Pray for them. For they are the ones that will bring me back home to you.


……………………………………………….


Dearest Max,

Did I tell you in my last letter how fast my heart beats when ever a correspondence from you is delivered? Did I tell you how my hands shake so much I can barely get your letter opened? How with each word I pray that the next word might tell me what I am waiting every day to hear; that you are coming home to me.

Everyday I pray, just like you asked. I pray for your men, but of course I pray hardest for you. You should not feel guilty for living my darling, for if you had died I would have died with you.

So where you are grateful, so am I.

I think, if it is possible, I miss you more each day. Have I told you I have a photograph of us on my bed side table? It’s the one that was taken on the very first day we met. We were in that club and you asked me to dance. Remember how reluctant I was?

I thought you were arrogant, but oh so handsome; which is probably why you were arrogant?

I hope this can bring a smile to your face as it has to mine as I am writing it.

Do you remember how you practically dragged me out onto the dance floor despite my protests? And then you cockily signaled the photographer over to snap our shot. I was annoyed, but I could not help but laugh at your arrogance as you told him, I would one day place that photo on my bedside table and kiss it every night.

And I did you know. And I do you know…kiss it every night.

You know I never thought anything could beat that night, but every night after that that I spent with you, you continued to prove me wrong; because it did get better.

So it turned out my love, your arrogance that night was not so premature after all, was it?

I always wondered what made you ask me to dance that night? There were so many other gorgeous girls, why did you choose me?

I don’t know…all I know is, that no matter what happens…I am glad you did.

……………………………………………………


My love,

Yes. Your last correspondence certainly did bring a much needed smile to my face, but then again every time I receive a letter with your handwriting, I can do nothing to prevent a smile from appearing on my face.
I laughed as you spoke of our first meeting, especially at your curiosity as to why I chose to ask you to dance. That, my love, is exactly why. Even now, you are still so unaware of how beautiful and alluring you are.

As soon as I spotted you across the room, I knew you were the one.

So you see? It wasn’t me who chose you…It was you who chose me.

My arrogance that night, was a front. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. It was to hide the fear that you might reject me. Then what would I do? I didn’t even know you from a bar of soap, but the thought that you would say no to a dance with me was paralyzing. You captivated me, and you have continued to captivate me every day since then.

Even if you had of said no to my offer, you would have wrecked me for life. No other women could have possibly measured up to the first impression I had of you.

It helps me to remember moments like these with you. I know there are still many more moments like it to be made in the future.

My love, this might be my last correspondence to you for a while, but please do not fear. Word is the war is drawing to a close. It sends shivers down my spine to think I might finally be able to hear you voice again; to touch you again; to hold you in my arms and never let you go.

I will try and send you word to let you know that I am alright. Just know that each day I live, I live for you. And every day I have loved…I have loved only you.

Yours forever and beyond
Max.


……………………………………………….


Max,

It has been a month since your last letter. I know you told me it would be your last for a while, but I need to know that you are okay.
My heart still beats only for you. I too wait for the day when you will be able to hold me and never let me go.

I won’t let you let me go.

Eternally yours
Liz.


………………………………………………….


My beloved,

I am coming home. Wait for me on the 12th day of March at 5:00pm, at the place where we first pronounced our love. There I will get down on bended me and declare my eternal love for you in a marriage proposal.

I live to hear your voice, and when you speak to me for the first time in what seems to me like an eternity, all I want to hear is one word.

Yes.

Yours forever and beyond
Max.


……………………………………………………….


On the 12th March she went to the place where they declared there love for each other.

She waited.

And she waited.

And she waited.

To her dismay he did not return to her that night. But she could not lose hope. For if hope was lost, then so was love.

She waited until 12:00 the next day. When he still did not appear she ran home and grabbed the last letter that he had written telling her of his arrival. She thought she might have had the date wrong.

Every word he had written to her, she had memorized down to the punctuation. This was no different. The date she had memorized was correct.

That date had passed and she still had not got to tell him the one word he wanted to hear.

Yes.

Each day at 5:00pm for the next five years, she would walk to the park where they declared their love and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

She would practice how she would say yes to him. It was one word, but to her it was the world. She would play his letters over continuously in her mind.

He told her he would come. Her faith in him would not waver.

But her faith did start to waver. Each day at 5:00pm in the following years, she would sit on a swing humming a song; it was their song; the song they had danced to, the first time they met; but she would never sing.

She was in a self imposed silence. If she ever talked again it would be to him. And it would be to say one word.


Yes.


She waited in that park on the day he told her he would return, and she waited there every day after for five years.

It was in March of the fifth year, as she stood alone, arms wrapped around myself to protect her weary body from the cold, that she realised he wasn’t coming back for her. She was simply too tired to hope any more. The body was tired; her mind was tired; but most of all, her heart was tired. The pain was just too much.

And as this realisation dawned on her, the rain started to fall, and a drop hit her face. She did not bother to wipe it away and she did not bother to shelter herself from the impending storm. She knew that she would shed no tears for him. She knew that the clouds were crying for her, and the impending storm was expressing exactly how she felt inside.

…………………………………

The Miracle


But then something happened. In later years she would describe it as a miracle.


The storm suddenly cleared, and as she scanned the park for what she had decided would be the last time, she saw him. He seemed taller to her, skinnier, changed in ways that only war can change a man, but he was still her Max.


He limped towards her, smiling his first smile in five years. He’d come to remember at the place where they had declared their loved. He never expected to find her there.


In all his years away at war, Max Evans had never shed a tear. This day he did.


Liz Parker could not stop the tremors that were running through her body. He was here. Five years late, but to her that did not matter; she knew he would have a reason, but finding out that reason could wait.

For Liz Parker had not spoken a word in five years. It was time for her to speak.


She ran at him, repeating one word over an over as if it were the only word she remembered how to say.


Yes.


They were right where they were meant to be. He thanked god for a second chance, and promised himself as he held her, that he would never let her go.

That night he took her back to his home, where she had been living in his absence. The first thing Liz did was turn on the cd player that had not been played or touched for years and pressed play.

The sounds of Thirsty Merc filled the room, and finally Liz Parker sang.


You said you'd wait at night for me,
Near where the swings have always been.
I left my house and made no sound,
Not a soul was all around.
Soon I saw the streetlights glow,
Ran towards to say hello,
Everything was in my view,
Everything and everything but you.
Oh, but you
Oh, but you
Oh, but you

I took a left and stole a right
Counted my steps on that dark night.
I knew you must be somewhere near
You'd said you'd meet me here.
Maybe you had lost your way
In the shadows blue and grey.
Everything was clear and true,
Everything and everything but you.
Oh, but you
Oh, but you
Oh, but you

What could I do? I still had faith.
I saw my clock's dishevelled face.
But hours passed and still no sign,
Days and nights and Summertimes.
I am old but have no fear,
You said you would meet me here.
Everything is clear and true,
Everything and everything but you.
Oh, but you
Oh, but you
Oh, but you


Liz Parker and Max Evans did marry. The night he returned to her, they conceived their first of five beautiful children. The next day Max would tell his beloved of all he had endured to return to her. He would tell her of fighting what was supposed their last, and their easiest, battle, and being captured. He would tell her how he did not know how long they had kept him captive for; how he did not even know the war was over, until for a reason that still remains unknown, they released him. How he knew she would be waiting for him on that day he had written her, and how at times, he had wanted to kill himself; and then her face would enter his mind, and he would think what is she was waiting even still?.

That night they cried for lost years and celebrated a future that remained unseen; but that didn’t matter to them, all that mattered was that even after everything, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

In eachother’s arms.


……………………………………


“That was a lovely story. So tell me, did they live happily every after?”

“They lived forever and beyond. Forever and beyond.”

An old man stands up and walks over to a dusty cd player in the corner of a small room. He presses play and the strains of Thirsty Mercs Everything But you fill the room.

His companion suddenly looks up at him with a new clarity.

“Max?”

Max turns to face his wife.

“Max? I was trying to get out. I was trying to remember. It was us wasn’t it? Please don’t let me go again. I don’t want to forget again. I love you Max.”

Max could see his wife of fifty years fading again. He grabbed her for one last kiss before she forgot who he was again. Before she forgot who she was. He didn’t know when the next time would be that she remembered. He didn’t know if there would be a next time.

“I love you too Liz. Forever and beyond.”

He saw the confusion in her eyes before she pushed him away.

“Who are you? What are you doing in here? Where’s the nurse?”


“Liz, Liz It’s ok my love.”


His words seem to subdue her momentarily, as if she recognized them.

“Who are you? Who is Liz?”

And then she was gone again.

That night Liz Evans would find herself in a park swinging on a swing. She didn’t know what she was doing there; all she knew was that she was waiting for someone.

That night, unlike the one years before, the storm did not subdue, and Liz Evans was struck by lightening.

She was found the next morning by her husband who knew the only place his wife would disappear to, even when she couldn’t remember. She had a smile on her face, her big brown eyes stared up at him.

Max Evans sat his tired old body next to his wife’s and clasped her hand in his. And for the second time in his life Max Evans cried. He felt a hand reach up and brush his tears, and then he heard it.

“Yes.”


………………………….


Max and Liz Evans were discovered not 15 minutes later. Those that saw it repeat the story often; of how Liz Evans struck with a debilitating disease that hindered her memory, was found singing to her husband as he held her hand and wept tears of joy. It was a sight to behold, and a miracle that those who saw it, would pass on, making sure the story of Max and Liz Evans would never die. Just like their love.

I took a left and stole a right
Counted my steps on that dark night.
I knew you must be somewhere near
You'd said you'd meet me here.
Maybe you had lost your way
In the shadows blue and grey.
Everything was clear and true,
Everything and everything but you.


They shared one more week as Max and Liz Evans after that night. No one knows how Liz’s memory permanently returned to her that morning. No one knows how she ended up at the park that night. No one knows how she could have survived the lightening strike.

All they know is that one week later they died peacefully in their sleep, wrapped in each others arms…


Exactly where they belonged.


Forever and beyond



THE END


Please let me know what you think, and if you have any question feel free to ask.