Roswell Fanatics

(WIP)''

Beautiful Banner by Longtimefan

Title: Scars of White

Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended. Also all songs used in the story are credited to the band/singer and are used to credit for their inspiration to write those specific parts. (oh and not to give too much away-- certain pop culture references to Star Wars is not intended to infringe on Lucas' creation at all)

Pairings/Couples/Category: Basically all the typical ones after Graduation, they will certainly be touched upon, but they are not the driving force of this story-- you'll see what I mean.

Rating: MATURE for violence (implied and explicit), language

Summary: Starts towards the end of the Graduation episode. What would happen if Michael hadn't turned back?

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my roommate and close friend, jabker. She has TWISTED my arm to post this, when I wrote this (and many other stories) it was out of sheer boredom in the summer when there were no lovely updates from all you wonderful writers on this board. I hope I do justice with this story and that you all enjoy it. This storyline is all completely mine, infusing aspects of other movies/TV shows that I like-- however, please do tell me if you feel this is too similar to another story, I would not want to steal anyone's idea, but certain parts of Roswell stories tend to be similar-- in terms of powers or reactions in particular situations. Thus, if there is an unintentional infringement I will remove this story. It was written for purely entertainment purposes and I hope it fulfills that for you. OH and of course WARNING-- MUCH ANGST in this story. There will be moments of levity, but well the first part below will say it all in terms of how angsty it can get. What can I say, I just can't get enough of angst.


PART ONE
They didn’t even have twelve days. Liz’s premonition was coming true today and in the brightness of the school auditorium, they were all just sitting ducks waiting for their inevitable conclusion. He could sense their building panic for it was swelling up within him too, but glancing around him, there was one chance—one chance to allow the most survivors. It only required one sacrifice. He turned back, his eyes seeking hers and a silent understanding passed between them. His amber ones sent one last message of love and resigned determination to save her and Isabel. Taking a deep breath he stood up and steadily made his way to the podium.

After sending the speaker away he cloaked the auditorium in darkness covering the hopeful escape of the others as he bid his final goodbye. As much as he had wished things could be different for the infinite time, he could at least hold on to the thought that they could be safe, could have the chance for a new life, even a normal one.

“…I always knew I was different... and for a long... long... time, all I wanted was to be another face in the crowd... but in the end... it wasn't possible. I guess it never was. So from now on, I'll just... concentrate on being who I really am. Some of you might not like that. Some of you might even... find that frightening. I have to be who I really am... and let fate take care of the rest. So, thank you, Roswell... Thank you for... for letting me live among you. Thank you for giving me a family. Thank you for giving me a home...” As he gave his speech the trepidation within him had created a rapid rhythm in his heart wondering when they would decide to end its mad cadence. As he spoke his last few words, it came. The sensation was so sudden and forceful it caused him to stagger backwards, but before he could even register what happened, another bullet drove into his chest and he fell backwards onto the stage. As his body hit with a thud, the screaming around him already seemed faded to him and darkness began to bleed along the edges of his peripheral vision. This time though he welcomed the darkness rather than fought it. When he healed Clayton, he hadn’t been ready, not with so much to still discuss with Liz. But now, she finally knew all that he wanted her to know and she not only had forgiven him for his mistakes, his indiscretions, but accepted him wholly when she whispered, “Yes” to his heartfelt proposal. He had dreamed of growing old with her, having children with her, to live in marital bliss, but it was not meant to be. So, from the moment the bullets penetrated his skin, one trained upon his beating heart, he welcomed his end—his destiny. As the blackness took over he never felt the arms that roughly grabbed his body.

Max felt like he was floating. The stinging pain had gone leaving him with nothingness. Was his soul finally at peace? Before he could explore this warm numbness, he started to feel a persistent tug. He resisted a bit, wanting to just stay in the static state where he no longer had to feel, but the force tugging at him was greater. He slowly became aware of a faint high pitched sound repeating every few seconds and then a feeling of brightness in his eyes. What did this mean? He tried to slip back further into the darkness, but the pitched sounds became more insistent, occurring with greater frequency. And the brightness started to burn at his eyelids. He slowly cracked them open and suddenly his sight was flooded with blinding whiteness. White? No, it couldn’t be. He was dead… he had been shot, he should be dead. He had to be. As a wave of panic began to sweep over him, he sensed someone approach him. He tried to move, to hide and find the comforting darkness again, but he found he couldn’t. He could hardly feel his own limbs. What was happening to him? The presence came closer, still remaining a silhouette in the glaring light, but then among the incessant beeping he heard a voice laced with menace, smugly say, “Welcome back, Mr. Evans.” The high pitched beeps peaked, running so fast and close together one could just barely discern them. That was when he realized as his eyes widened enough to take in the white walls behind the shadow—he was in hell.

Kath 7- Thank you so much for posting! Coming from you, it is especially high praise indeed. I have actually read many of your stories-- the Out of the Woods Trilogy, Sins of the Father and its sequel (haven't gotten to A Mother's Love yet), Silent Lucidity and (so far my favorite) Burn For Me. Having read all your stories long after they were completed I didn't get a chance to reply to them and so I just first want to tell you that they were simply amazing.

Anyway, on to your comments-- rest assured it is NOT Pierce, for this takes place in Season 3-- Graduation episode, and Pierce is long dead (I will not be reviving him). This next part however, shall reveal exactly how it is that Max has ended up back in the white room.

jabker- MY BETA-ER!! You have joined the board for me!! You do know that the story lies in your hands, so you GO AHEAD AND READ, because the sooner you beta, the sooner I shall post. I am glad that have been able to tear you away from Dark Angel long enough to enjoy the Roswell fanfic world. AND once again thank you so much for pushing me to post (even though that involved you standing over me as I did), it's all because of you.

So here we go...

PART TWO

An hour after graduation
West Roswell High- Roswell, New Mexico

The majority of the crowd had dispersed from West Roswell High. Soldiers were stationed around the perimeter discouraging any more curious onlookers. Though the ambulance carrying the one casualty was long gone, medics remained behind to care for those still in shock. Behind the school, a dark car pulled out of the parking lot.

“All right, will one of you tell me now, what the hell happened?” the general screamed at the agents “I thought I told you I wanted this one alive! Not shoot to kill! He could have given us answers, especially how he seemed to know we were there—was I the only one who actually heard his speech?!”

“With all due respect general, your orders were to exterminate the aliens, though this one did seem to postpone that result for the others, and what it said in a speech does not concern us as long we have its body—that in itself will tell us much more.” Agent Felding replied coldly, but before the general could continue his protests, he held up his hand and continued, “But before you go on, we have surgeons trying to revive it. As soon as the body was retrieved we sent it along to the closest military hospital, we’ll be arriving there soon and you can see for yourself. And before you ask, the family will see a body; everything has been arranged. They won’t be questioning it.”

Somewhat pacified, the general huffily sat back and looked out the tinted windows. His thoughts swirled around wanting to feel satisfied that the good men and women of the base were avenged, but feeling a slight twinge of guilt as well. He hadn’t expected it, but that alien, was just a kid. Though the agents had told him these beings made themselves look that way to appear innocent and harmless, he couldn’t get the alien’s words out of his head—when he was up there, he just seemed so human. How could that kid be such a threat to the nation? But then the general remembered the shambles the base was left in with no survivors. If that alien was anything like the blonde one… well that was one thing the general would certainly find out, hopefully and soon.

Artesia Military Hospital- Artesia, New Mexico

“Both bullets have been removed and he’s been placed on a ventilator, but so far there’s no sign that he’ll wake up. He’s basically a vegetable, if he wasn’t hooked up, he’d be dead.” A doctor told the general and the agents as they looked through the one way window. The nurses hovered around cleaning and moving the surgical equipment, when one suddenly glanced at the heart rate monitor. The two nurses seemed to share words and one moved to exit the room.

A moment later the men heard, “Doctor?” as the nurse popped her head into the observation room. “There’s been a slight spike in his heart rate; we think he may be waking up.”

The doctor raised his eyebrows at this and quickly followed the nurse back into the examination room. The agents and the general continued to watch the action silently, as Agent Felding slowly turned on the sound system to the room. They began to hear the heart rate monitor, the beeping speeding up steadily. At first the body remained inert, but then they noticed a slight movement in one of the hands. After shifting somewhat the hand stilled once more, but then the head began to turn towards the side, facing the men. At that moment they saw the eyelids flutter and the beeping spiked further. Slight jerking movements were observed from the entire body. At this sight, Agent Felding decided to enter the examination room himself for a closer view. As he entered, he motioned for the doctor and nurses to vacate the room, then steadily moved towards the operating table in an almost prowl, he could see its eyes squinting through the bright lights at him. Not wanting to keep their prisoner in anymore suspense, he stepped in front of its face and smiled a smile devoid of any warmth and friendliness. “Welcome back, Mr. Evans” he stated.

Max could only blink in response, stunned at the realization that he was not dead, but back in the one place he never wanted to be in again. As the agent began to circle around him, he initiated his futile struggles again, but his bonds held him tight and his body was extremely weakened. He tried to say something, but the respirator made it difficult for him to be heard. The agent slowly removed it, causing Max to gasp suddenly at its loss. Swallowing down the panic that choked him, he whispered one agonized question, “why?”

Agent Felding sharply turned his head to stare into the eyes of the prisoner, not expecting that question. No protests to its imprisonment, no asking for its parents like last time, just acceptance to its fate at the hands of the government and a question to why it … why what indeed? Why it was there? Or—he leaned in his head by the prisoner’s ear, “You mean why we didn’t leave you for dead?” pausing a moment before punctuating his last word.

Max flinched at the whoosh of the agent’s breath hitting his neck as he said ‘dead’. Swallowing again, he timidly replied his affirmation glancing up into the agent’s eyes. A smirk appeared on the agent’s face as once again he leaned close to Max’s face, “All in good time, Mr. Evans. We have far more plans for you first.” No explanation provided, nor really needed. The hard, but excitedly perverted look in the agent’s eyes told him all he needed to know. His first capture by the Special Unit would soon feel like a vacation by the time they were done with him. Though terrified at what they would do to him this time, he had to ask, “What do you want from me?”

The smirk seemed to become a permanent fixture on the agent’s face as he responded once again, “All in good time.” He gently placed the ventilator back on Max, but there was nothing comforting in the gesture. He then turned and walked out of Max’s line of sight. Max heard a few more steps, a click and then a dull thud. And he was alone once more, left to reminisce upon his torturous memories.

Here it is! She managed to fit it in between studying. But sadly, with finals in full swing next week and spring break right after, this story will not be updated for about two weeks.


PART THREE

Three days after graduation
Some road in Nevada
(Song: Hoobastank’s The Reason)

A motorcycle was zooming down the highway unhindered by any traffic at this early hour. The rider had been driving all night, in fact days straight, moving from back lanes during the day and major highways at night. Under his black helmet his long wavy brown hair flipped in the wind.

I'm not a perfect person
There's many things I wish I didn't do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

No matter how fast he rode he couldn’t escape her face. That stunned look on her face constantly hovered in front of him like a taunting mirage. A look leaving her in shocked silence for a moment long enough for him to get out of there before he could change his mind. And since then, he’d considered turning back many times. But doing that meant two sure things: his death and screwing her life up, again.

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you

Every time he weakened at the sight of those full pouting lips, calling out to him to wait. Every time the flashes of their heated passion came to mind he pressed harder on the accelerator. His weakest moments came the few times he allowed himself a few minutes to stop and rest at the side of the road, where he would pace in a painful dance of wanting to run back to her and needing to stay away to save them both.

I'm sorry that I hurt you
It's something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That’s why I need you to hear

He’d hurt her too many times already, so many times, where he was too blind, too stupid, too selfish to realize it. And being there for her when Alex had died, wasn’t enough to make up for it, it was just enough at that moment, but never for the past and certainly not for their non-existent future. He stayed back for her, but ultimately had that been the right decision? Maybe if they had all gone, Tess would have gotten exactly what she wanted. She wouldn’t have needed to come back, she wouldn’t have blown up the base and gotten the Unit and the Army on their asses. And Maria, Liz, Kyle and Valenti could have just gone on with their lives.

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is You

But then what would have happened to Liz when she developed her powers? Maybe they would have never shown up and maybe they could have killed her or brought unwanted attention to her. And thinking back to that moment, he still would have made the same decision. He couldn’t just abandon Maria not knowing what would happen to her. For once, that moment he loved her too much to leave her.

And the reason is you

Sad how quickly things change, how people change because of circumstances and how circumstances can be changed further by the decisions of those people. There was no turning back now. He could only hope that without him or any of the other alien crap they’ve had to deal with, Maria was free to pursue her dreams, the way she wanted to.

And the reason is you

The sky began to lighten and Michael realized he would have to move off the highway soon. He slowed enough to read the signs more clearly and saw one advertising a rest stop coming up. At the thought of heading there, he flashed back to the first time he and Maria were driving down the highway and was stopped by that officer. Her quick thinking got him out of trouble and a ticket. One of the first of many reasons why he needed her in his life, but how she didn’t need him.

And the reason is you

The sun had crept up midway into the sky now and he could see the rest stop ahead. It had some trucks and bikes there, not so much that there’d be a lot of witnesses if the Unit ever caught onto his trail and not so little where the people working there could remember him easily. Before removing his helmet, he took a quick glance around and saw all the people in the diner. Moving quickly he tugged the helmet off and headed to the restroom for a quick change. Fortunately, his assumption had been correct, no one was in there. When he came out he no longer had his long wavy brown hair, but rather straight sandy blonde hair that just touched the nape of his neck; plus he fixed the crook in his nose and added a small goatee. He entered the diner and chose the booth close to the door. He ordered coffee first while he decided on what to eat. Taking a moment to just look around the place, he thought he saw a flash of some familiar dark image. Focusing on that he saw the person in the next booth reading the newspaper and on the back… It couldn’t be, he thought. Remembering the newspaper stand set up outside, he dashed out and pushing a guy out of the way grabbed one out. He quickly rifled through the paper until he found the page.

I'm not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

He stared at it stunned and read it over twice just to be sure this was real. He kept muttering ‘dammit’ as he poured over each word. His eyes began to sting, causing him to blink and look away from the image gracing the page, staring out with intense eyes.

I've found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
And the reason is you

The guy he had pushed over had his own paper now, commented at Michael. “Tragic, isn’t it?” Michael could only nod, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “Did you know him?” Michael glanced over at the man briefly and decided to answer; he wouldn’t be around for long anyway.

“Yeah, a long time ago.” With that, his fingers that had gripped the newspaper so violently just dropped it too numb to hold on and he stepped into the diner. He went to the counter and ordered his breakfast, to go.

The paper on the ground still displayed the article, “Roswell Graduate Shot by Terrorists, Funeral Tomorrow” with a picture of Max Evans below it.

I've found a reason to show
A side of me you didn't know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you

Hey everybody! My beta and I are back with 2 new parts... they're companion pieces technically and since it's been a while, I thought I should post a longer one. So enjoy! (Will respond to feedback soon)

oh and note-- ***** text ***** denotes flashbacks


PARTS FOUR & FIVE

3 months later
Canada

Liz walked through the door, brushing her dark blonde hair out of her face and called out, “Hillary?” using her roommate’s alias in case she had any company over. She waited a few moments hearing nothing and figured Isabel hadn’t come back from her classes yet. Having this time to herself she decided to go to her room and rest a bit before starting dinner. As she lay on her bed, her mind began to drift towards the contents of her bedside table’s bottom drawer. Knowing she was just setting herself up for another good cry, she still could not deny the urge to see it all again.

Shakily she removed a few items within the drawer and touched a lever towards the back causing the base to lift up and reveal a hidden space. Now in full view she picked the hidden contents up her hands trembling even more than before. Though not much in volume or number, the few sheets of paper she held in her hands were everything to her. She replaced the drawer as she found it and returned to her bed to peruse through her most prized possessions.

First were the photos of her parents and Grandma Claudia, Alex, and Maria that she had in her wallet. Next was the strip of photos she and Max had taken all those years back, when things seemed so much simpler and just happy. The familiar sensation of tears pricking her eyes began but she couldn’t stop, not yet. Lastly were the newspaper clippings she had collected since the day her hopes and dreams for her future died. First was the article on the tragic events at the graduation of West Roswell High where a graduate was believed to be killed, the shooter unknown. The next article confirmed the graduate’s death, but was withholding the name while the authorities were still attempting to find the killer and contain the situation.

A wave of anger swept through Liz at those words as it often did when she would read these articles over and over. A situation?! How could they understate things that way and just discount life so easily? How could they just blatantly lie saying they were searching for the killer when it was one of their own? How could they be so cruel and kill the one person, yes person, who was the kindest, gentlest and most loving man she had ever known? Tears were streaming down her face by now forcing her to stop to take a deep breath before she continued. The following article finally had a short statement from the military claiming crazed terrorists, also linked to the Army base bombing, were found to have attacked the nearby school. Had the military not already been on their trail, there would have been more casualties. Sadly, they were not there in time to prevent the one death that did occur and they offered their condolences to the family and friends of the departed. The article after that finally released the graduate’s name and picture listing the funeral would be occurring the next day. Liz paused on this article, lightly tracing the face staring out from the page. *Max* she sighed as her finger followed the strong line of his jaw and onto his soft, saddened lips. She longed to feel those lips on hers again. She longed to actually look into his eyes and once again get lost in their warm amber depths. Her tears having slowed a bit by now splattered gently onto the picture as they had many times before. She gently wiped at the drops on the clipping and placed it down to lessen the damage she seemed to wreck upon it each time she read it. Trying to stop the tears, she closed her eyes tightly but the flashes of memory that came to mind held the opposite effect.

***** She was at graduation again, in a sea of red robes. She was smiling; after all this was graduation, the last official chapter of her childhood coming to a close and well, the overwhelming feeling of elation of being proposed to the night before by the love of her life hadn’t worn out yet. In fact, at that moment she didn’t think anything could deflate her happiness, because the prospect of becoming Mrs. Max Evans was so exciting to her that for a moment she could forget about the death sentence hanging above their heads and the fact that in a few more days she might never see her parents again. Unfortunately, that was the only moment she was ever granted to forget such things again.

Everything went downhill as soon as she saw him take the stage—Bryce McCain. He was in Roswell too soon. He was supposed to be giving his speech at the UFO Center days from now, not today, not at graduation. She tried to breathe normally as panic set in. She glanced at her friends, and finally locked eyes with Max. His eyes told so much in one gaze, more than any speech could ever do. In that moment she silently heard all he wanted to say—that he loved her, that he wished this could all be different, that he prayed for her to be safe with the others and that he hoped she would understand what he had to do. Still held in his gaze, she could only affirm with a slight smile, trying to memorize his face at that moment, hoping desperately she would see his face again; that he would find a way out too and she’d have many more moments to gaze upon his face. In a way her hope was achieved with one devastating detail changed, Max never made it out—alive. *****

At this point she was sobbing into her hands, so lost in her grief that she didn’t hear Isabel come in.

_ _ _


The sky was finally darkening as she arrived home. Pushing the door open with her side, she carefully maneuvered all her shopping bags into the hallway placing them carefully at her feet as she turned back to lock the door. About to pick up the bags again, she realized the house was still dark. She quickly flipped on the lights and quietly moved around the house to check for any possible intruder. She listened carefully for any noise, finally hearing something as she neared Liz’s room. Not wanting to surprise her, she called out to her, “Li—Stephanie?” almost forgetting to call her by her alias. After all in this town, they were sisters—Stephanie and Hillary Carter, with matching blonde hair and hazel eyes, though Liz’s seemed to have a blue tint to them as well at times. Knocking lightly, she eased Liz’s door opened and saw a now familiar sight.

She strode to the bed, moved the clippings and photos onto the bedside table and pulled her sister into a tight embrace. She slowly smoothed Liz’s hair down as she had done many times before, over the weeks they had been there, repeating the same comforting words, “It’s all right to let it out Liz, let it out…”

She knew if she didn’t remind Liz that it was okay to cry, Liz would retreat back behind a façade of indifference to mask the pain and appear strong. It was what Liz did initially after graduation. It was just her and Liz on the road and after finding out officially that Max had died, she was an emotional wreck. Liz’s strength and determination to get them away from Roswell was the only thing that got her through to their new home. She remembered pleading with Liz to let her go back, to find Max, but Liz reminded her that as much as she wanted to do the same, it would mean their deaths and that Max would have died in vain. Having Liz actually say that was a rude awakening for her. Until that point his death hadn’t really sunk in. She knew that they both felt that odd sudden pressure change in their heads, signaling a severing of their connection to Max and his death had been all over the news, but after his last miraculous ‘rebirth’, she had hoped that maybe he was still alive. She and Liz had discussed the differences between this time and last—that because he was back for only a short time the mental link they shared with Max was not as strong as it used to be, which is why when it was lost, the backlash was hardly more than a passing feeling of lightheadedness. Liz had told her that the first time the loss of the connection was so powerful that it woke her from a deep drunken sleep.

***** “Even though this time the loss wasn’t as powerful, the result still feels the same. An empty space…” Liz trailed off as she drove the car that Kyle had provided for them.

Isabel looked at Liz through red, tearful eyes then turned away, nodding slightly. But as she looked out the window, she couldn’t help but think that there was still a chance. Liz said the regenerating connection was new and relatively weak, perhaps too weak to really know… but the dream world—some time he would have to sleep. At that thought a slight smile touched her lips, but it still caught Liz’s attention.

“Isabel… don’t.” The bluntness of the word startled Isabel out of her thoughts and she turned back to look at Liz. “I know what you’re planning to do, but he’s not there. Why set yourself up for that hurt?” Liz’s voice seemed so cold when she said that, but thinking back it actually sounded like it was utterly choked with emotion.

“After everything you’ve been through, why did you come back? Why say yes?”

“He was the love of my life.”

“Yeah, and he is my brother. I lost him once before, I can’t lose him this time, not without trying first.” After that all was silent in the car. *****

For an entire month after that day Isabel had tried to dream walk Max nightly, but each time she was met with nothingness—utter darkness, just empty. Liz had tried to get her to stop, noticing the increasingly dark circles under her reddened eyes. That was when Isabel blew up in Liz’s face.

***** “Did you stop trying to discover the truth when Alex died?”

The question stopped Liz cold, causing her to just gape at Isabel in shock.

Isabel took her opportunity to forge on with her tirade, “You didn’t. No one listened to you, because we didn’t want to believe that what you said was true. I know I didn’t, because it meant that I caused his death. That by letting him in…” a sob stole from her throat before she could stop it. She took a halting breath to continue before she lost her nerve and anger. “You may not believe me Liz, but Max isn’t dead. I won’t accept it, I can’t. I mean, look at you! It’s been a month and I have yet to see you mourn my brother. Somewhere deep down you don’t believe he’s dead either, because if you did, you wouldn’t be so… so composed!”

That was when Liz finally let herself break down. Her breaths hitched suddenly and she turned to grab her bag violently. She spilled the contents on the floor in front of Isabel and showed her the collection of newspaper clippings and photos. “Do you see these clippings? Each one mentions the death of a West Roswell High graduate, of Max Evans- your brother! He’s gone, Isabel! It’s too late! He’s gone…” and with that, sobs wracked her petite frame and she crumpled to the floor crying for Max as she had cried for Alex. She didn’t want to be strong anymore; she didn’t care what happened to herself anymore. She just wanted Max back. Isabel quickly wrapped her arms around Liz, soothingly saying, “Let it out Liz, it’s all right to let it out.” *****

“…let it out.” As the familiar words registered, Liz stopped sobbing. She pushed gently at Isabel’s arms to face her, “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Liz…” Isabel began to protest, but Liz quickly cut her off.

“No! I can’t keep falling apart like this Isabel. We started a new life here, but neither of us is living it. As much as I wish things were different, they’re not. We need to move on.” She held up her hand before Isabel could interrupt, “I’m not saying we forget, just that we stop this,” she motioned to her collection. “If I stop dwelling in the past, will you stop delving into the darkness?”

Isabel went rigid as she jerkily shook her head. *No*

Liz grabbed her hands before she could move away, “Isabel please. I know you still try at least once a week; your eyes can’t hide that. If not for yourself, do it for me. We’ve been through so much together and even though being ‘sisters’ is just our cover in this town; I do consider you the sister I never had.” Funny, how it takes something so tragic to bring people together, for Isabel was the only one who could know exactly how she felt. She was the only one else in their gang who lost a brother and a lover. Before the others came into her life, Alex was like the brother she never had and seeing Isabel with Alex way back then, she knew there had been something there. “I mean, if things had worked out, we would be sister-in-laws, but… I can’t bear to see you put yourself through this any longer, anymore than I can bear to see these clippings, or anything else that reminds me of him… of them.”

Isabel glanced down at their linked hands, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet Liz’s watery but steady gaze. It was true, over the past three months; through their shared loss and grief she had found kinship in the girl that used to threaten her. She remembered when she was so scared that she would lose Max to her. But the thing was Liz was the one that brought the real Max out, if only for a short while, as well as bring Alex into her life. Max always had trusted Liz, at least when his mind wasn’t being tampered with. She had come to trust Liz too, for she was pretty much the reason they were still alive and safe. So she finally decided to trust Liz on this, acquiescing with a nod and a squeeze of the hand. No more dream walking the dead.

Short part it is then! Props to my beta who managed to squeeze even this part into her schedule!

Enjoy guys.

PART SIX

3 months after graduation
Crashdown- Roswell, New Mexico
(Music playing in background—One Hundred Years by Five for Fighting)

I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are

Maria sat at the counter playing with the straw in her drink, no longer an employee of the Crashdown. If it hadn’t been for her last minute decision to actually attend college, she would have quit three months back; but she really did need the money. After graduation, it was so hard for her to be in this place, where the downward spiral to hell began.

I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

Worse, was that it was just her. Michael had left and so had Liz. Even though she knew from Isabel in weekly dream walks that Liz was alive, she technically had lost both her best friends. When Liz left, she would have too. Maybe back to New York to see Billy. However, the Unit and army decided otherwise. For the first month they stuck around pestering her, Kyle, the Evans and the Parkers about the sudden disappearances of Liz, Isabel and Michael. At least they had the decency not to ask anything about Max. Sure wasn’t much difference though. The cover story had been that the events of graduation were so traumatic for those three, especially only a year after Alex had died that they couldn’t stay in Roswell any longer. That’s when they started to question her more, why didn’t she leave?

I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind

I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life

Over the years she had gotten better at lying and evading questions. She told them that she didn’t know Max as well as them—his girlfriend, best friend and sister. But she had, maybe not in the same way they did, but she had her own special friendship with him. That summer three years back was when she saw past the dreamy gazes he would send Liz. She saw the love there through the pain and resignation of Liz’s absence. She also found the world’s greatest listener besides Alex. She—her musings were suddenly interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She blinked into focus and saw Kyle’s concerned face in front of her.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, taking the stool next to her.

“Yeah, just thinking.” She replied taking a sip of her drink.

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy, Time to lose yourself
Within a morning star

“Yeah, seems that’s all we do these days.” He ordered a drink for himself and glanced around the empty café, pausing at the one booth neither had been able to go near, before looking back at Maria. “So, one more week to go. Excited about starting college?” He asked in attempt to lighten their already depressing conversation.

15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

“Yeah, it’ll be different.” She smiles slightly, staying silent for a moment, then, “I’m glad you’re going with me. But, why did you decide to go to UNM? Santa Fe State was offering you a football scholarship.”

Half time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...

Kyle smirked slightly at the question. “Well I found out there’s a larger percentage of babes attending UNM than Santa Fe, and well I was sold!” he joked. “Ow!” As expected, Maria slapped him on the arm without missing a beat. He rubbed it slowly, “Okay, okay, it’s just that, it’s just the two of us now. Besides my dad, we’re the only ones that know what happened over the past three years and I don’t think I can ever pretend that it never happened. There will be times I just need someone who knows, who can understand without having me explain. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, not in death and not by my running away. I know I dreamed about getting out of Roswell and being a pro-football player, but after all we’ve been through it just doesn’t seem to matter anymore. It can’t compare.”

I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are

Maria’s eyes had begun to water by now but she was still staring straight at Kyle, listening attentively. Kyle began to become uncomfortable after sharing all that. It was still hard for him to completely open up to anyone, the last time had ended in such disaster. “Yeah and you know UNM has a way better football team.” He added, puffing his chest outward with the claim.

“Not for much longer.” Maria teased, the tears gone replaced by a wicked glint matching her smirk.

15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you're on your way
Every day's a new day...

Playing along, Kyle gasped holding his hand to his heart, “That hurt. That—you cut me deep, Maria.” But he couldn’t keep up the charade long, just seeing her smile like that was enough to make him break out into an actual grin. They needed a break from all this angst. But before they could make a clean enough break when they left next week, they had one more place to visit.

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

---
*OH! and Note... no infringement intended on Dreamworks' wonderful, hilarious creation-- Shrek.

I'm very very sorry that I've let this story remain without an update in so long... my beta's schedule never let up and so finally she just said to go ahead and post without that. So... I apologize you all had to wait so long to get a part that wasn't beta-ed, but this does mean that posts will actually get to be regular since I will just go ahead and post the parts once a week.

As promised this part is long, do enjoy!

Scottie- Thank you once again for your awesome comments! I'm glad Kyle's reasoning was believable (and best of luck to your kid next year!)

And YEAH! A comment on the song! I do try to match them with the part I'm writing and as mentioned on the first page, these songs do help the writing process along .

And about their destination... the answer shall be revealed!

So without much further ado,


PART 7

An hour later
Roswell Cemetery

As they past through the gates, they each took separate paths leading to a different friend. Even after all they had shared, some things were meant to stay private. Maria stopped in front of the grave already starting to show signs of age with moss growth. She wiped at it a bit, and then traced the lettering of her best friend’s name. As she reached the X she sat down heavily by the gravestone turning away from the wording to stare up at the sky. Her throat felt choked up with the unshed tears she desperately held back, struggling in their flood. Not knowing where to start or even how to start, she whispered in anguish the only thing she could think; the only thing she could feel, “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

~ ~ ~

On the other side of the cemetery Kyle stood, hands in pockets. He stoically stared down at the headstone still seeming freshly placed in the earth. He stood a bit off centered and a few steps away from the stone, remembering what had become of his friend’s body—his face.

***** (One Hour after graduation at Roswell Memorial Hospital)
Kyle held on to Maria as they waited with the Evans, Jesse, his dad and Ms. Deluca for news about Max. From what his dad had said, there wasn’t much chance that Max made it. Still they couldn’t lose hope, though only four of them knew about it, Max had died and come back, so he could do it again—there was a chance. There had to be.

Unfortunately that chance was shot to hell when a doctor finally came to talk to them. His look was grim already deflating the small hope that wavered violently within them all, but when he took the Evans with him to speak to them privately, Kyle knew. Max was really gone this time.

The Evans came back, Mrs. Evans looking paler and more faint than before as she clutched tightly to her husband who seemed extremely tired. They told them that Max was already dead before he reached the hospital and the doctors had finally removed the bullets. The reason they took so long to talk to them was some identification issue. That’s when Kyle’s dad spoke up. “How could they not know it was Max? We all saw him. There couldn’t have been that many shootings today, he must have had his ID with him and besides, couldn’t they see his face?” His father’s voice had started to take a tone of incredulity.

“No.” Mr. Evans replied. All was silent in the waiting room as they all turned to stare at him. “They don’t know what happened to his wallet, but his face…” he trailed off for a moment to take a breath as his wife held on even tighter, if possible. “Those sons of bitches shot him a third time.” Mrs. Evans was openly crying by now and Mr. Evans did not elaborate.

Maria’s shock from the past hour’s events was beginning to wear off as it turned to anger. “What do you mean a third time? Where?” Her mom and Kyle tried to calm her down a bit, this was hard enough on the Evans without her badgering, but she fought them both off. “No! Where’s the doctor? I want to see Max. I want to see him!” She was screaming by now, and his dad had joined in to stop her.

But the struggling stopped when Mrs. Evans finally spoke. “His face. You can’t even tell…” she broke off as one more sob came out, “It was his face.” *****

Kyle sat down gingerly, angled in a way that he wasn’t over where his friend laid, but could still face the carved stone—Max Evans, 1983-2002, Beloved Son, Brother and Friend. “Evans.”

He waited a moment, almost as if he expected a reply. He sighed in frustration, “I can just hear your reply in my head. I don’t know if I should be happy about that. I guess it means I can’t forget about you and all you’ve done.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “That didn’t come out right. I…I just don’t know how to do this. I mean, it’s not like we had any real heart to hearts when you were…here. Well, except for that time I got you drunk. At least I think we did, still kind of hard to remember that night. But, I do remember thinking we had fun.” Kyle shook his head and laughed softly, “I keep having this image of me holding Liz’s underwear and well I’ll tell you that kept me going for the rest of the year.” He stared off unseeing for a moment, “Then I realized the truth…of well, everything—the entire year, you and Liz. I must say it took a long while before I came around to singing any of your praises. I know you saved my life, and I was obligated, but I never was truly grateful. I didn’t fully understand what it took for you to do that. And I guess, better late than never,” tears started to sting at his eyes, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “Thank you.” He released a shuddering breath, “thank you for putting yourself on the line all those times. Thank you for saving Liz. Me. My dad. All of us. I know you said you weren’t a king, well maybe not, but you’re definitely one thing… you’re a hero, Max. A real hero. And I finally understand what Alex meant that it is worth knowing. It was worth knowing you, the kind of person, human, you were.” Kyle stood up, a tear slowly trailing down his cheek. He placed a hand on top of the grave. “I’m not sure I’ll be back again, but I said what I wanted to say.” He looked up and squinted in the pale sun, “Goodbye Max.” He stood there silent for a moment; then slowly walked away towards Maria.

~ ~ ~

(Song snippet from: Remy Zero’s Perfect Memory)

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad friend. I haven’t been back here since…you were placed here. It’s still so hard to believe you’re really gone—that they’re all gone. I’m sorry; here I am pitying myself again and… I can just imagine you already trying to comfort and reassure me. I know you’re there for me, for all of us… even if it is just in spirit, but I wish we could be there for you. That we had been there for you when she did…God, every time I think of what she did to you, I feel like I could kill her, but she took that away too. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand how Max, Liz, Kyle and Jim could be even that forgiving. I bet if you were given the choice, you’d be right there with them. She doesn’t deserve it—especially from the people she hurt and betrayed the most. What she did to you guys, the manipulation?!” her voice cracked at a high pitch under her fury, “…the absolute disregard for life—that is, other than her own. I…”

The pent up anger Maria was unleashing finally was stopped by a wave of sadness over the loss of life all around her. She remained silent for a moment trying to clear her head, her heart, of all the rage she had held on to so long. “You loved life so much, no matter what it threw at you. You cared about so many things—computers, your music, your family, your friends. You were the most loyal person I have ever known and I’m still proud to call you my best friend. Nothing will ever change that.” Another round of tears began to spill across her cheeks and she lightly wiped them away, “And I’ll try to be a better friend… actually visit you more often. I’ll really try. It’s just hard…just…” She pursed her quivering lips and looked away for a moment. Then a song drifted from her lips conveying what she had been trying to say so inadequately. “I'll remember you and all the things we used to do. And all the things we used to say.” She breathes deeply, “I’ll remember you…that way.”

~ ~ ~

“Maria?”

She looked up at Kyle and nodded. “Ok.” She lifted her hand to her lips, kissing them and then placed that same hand on Alex’s grave. She stood up; brushing lightly at the dirt on her legs and began down the path Kyle just came from.

He watched her retreating back for a moment before turning back to Alex’s grave. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped closer. “Umm… hey man.” He placed his hands in his pockets, even after doing this once it still felt awkward for him.

“I…uh…never got a chance to apologize… I mean I was planning on maybe doing it after Evans’ funeral…” He shook his head slightly as the memory of that day came to mind, “but by the end Maria was barely holding it together… and I have to admit I was pretty close to losing it too. I thought it was hard enough burying one friend… but… and in front of all those people—those strangers…” He broke off as he placed a hand over his eyes to keep the tears at bay.

“Losing you guys all because of the secret we shared… I know how you felt about that, but I still feel like I need to ask—is it really worth it? For you both to die so young? For Liz, Isabel and Michael to give up their lives to go into hiding? For Maria to be crying practically every day? For the Evans, the Parkers and yours to lose their children? I don’t know… More often these days I’m starting to wonder… I know I will always value my friendship with you and the others… you guys were more…than I ever had given you credit for before. I wonder if I would have had the chance to know you guys so well without knowing the secret…without anyone knowing. Probably not. I… I just wish you guys had a chance to keep on,” a slight smile lit his face for a second, “riding for a while longer. Knowing and meeting them is one thing, but to be killed because of it or by them… you didn’t need that to happen to you to be unique. You were one of a kind all on your own Whitman. And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stop this from happening. That I actually helped it happen. And I wish I could really hate her, but some part of me still holds on to the times where she genuinely seemed nice. I just… I don’t think I’ll ever really forgive myself for my part in your death. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Alex.”

At this point, his hand had found its way to resting on top of the grave as he kneeled in front of it, head bowed. He angrily wiped at the second tear to fall down his cheek that day, soon followed by another. He abruptly stood up and glanced in the direction of Maria to see if she was ready to go yet. He turned back to face the grave in front of him again, staring at the inscription as flashes of the past appeared in his mind. **Alex sitting next to him at school during lunch, looking hurt and confused as he accused him of spying for Liz; Singing American Pie when they were trapped by the killer blue alien crystals; Playing blackjack in Vegas; Carrying his lifeless body into his car.** “No!” He covered his face in his hands trying to rid himself of that image, but he could never forget that night, that moment, never. He slowly lowered his hands and taking one last look at his friend’s grave he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He then backed away, almost running to his car.

~ ~ ~

(Song: Sarah McLachlan’s Angel)

“Hey girlfriend.” She tried to smile, but failed miserably as her tears spilled over into sobs. She kneeled down, shifting onto one side, legs behind her. She lightly trailed over the grass covering her friend’s body, as if with comforting caresses. As she sat there in silence, tears still marking paths down her cheeks, memories of the last time she was there filled her head—the funeral. She remembered feeling so lost, looking out at a crowd where the majority didn’t even know Max and wondering if she could get through the funeral without breaking down completely. Somehow she managed, the thought that ‘this’ was all she could do for him—to sing and pray his soul was finally at peace. She couldn’t let him down and she didn’t. As she began to talk to her friend, her fingers still trailing through the grass, she could hear the song she sang that day.

Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance

“This almost seems familiar, me doing most of the talking, and you just sitting there, listening. You being there that summer meant a lot and I’m sorry that I wasn’t equally there for you.”

For a break that would make it okay
There’s always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day

“You were always there to pick up the pieces, fix the mistakes of others. But when you needed that same help, we weren’t there…I wasn’t there to give you back your hope. I was hurting so much that night and it turned out it wasn’t exactly what I thought, but it did the damage…only the damage was done to you and your relationship.”

I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

“I thought I always saw you as you, but I realize I didn’t, not really. I saw the person who saved Liz with his alien powers and with that same alien heritage, proceeded to break her heart and change her life irrevocably. Yeah, yeah I actually picked up on some SAT words from Liz. Anyway, you were the guy I would measure Michael up to; you were the guy who just seemed so perfect that when…everything just went to hell…I didn’t recognize you anymore. But the thing is I never truly acknowledged who you were. I knew you as Isabel’s brother, Liz’s soul mate, Michael’s best friend, a good listener, an alien king, a healer, a Czechoslovakian. I really wish I had taken the chance that summer to actually get to know you. Know you beyond relationship and other-worldly troubles.”

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of an angel
May you find some comfort here

“But I guess our lives are just one big cliché…I mean, I finally realized the kind of person you are through your actions. Both times you died; it was saving another one’s life. I’ve realized you were the person that followed his heart and each time you listened to it, it was protecting others at your own risk.”

So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference
Escaping one last time
It’s easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees

“You were a miracle. Without you, I would have lost a best friend even earlier. I know you would argue at this point that everything afterwards—all the danger we were all put in, was your fault. But you see you were there to save us when you were able to follow your heart. You were a good man Max. And if you were given the chance, I’m sure you would have made a wonderful husband and father too. You were a great friend and because of you, we’re all still here, somewhere, and we’re ok. Rest easy, you don’t have to worry anymore. Just be.”

In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie

Kyle stood behind Maria, the flowers they had bought for their friends in his hand. After seeing Maria still sitting by Max’s grave when he was done he decided to retrieve them from the car. “Hey…”

She looked up at Kyle and as her gaze began to drop, her eyes settled on the flowers in his hand. Her lips twitched upwards at the sight and she stretched out a hand towards him. He helped her up and handed the flowers to her and together they walked to the stone and gently placed them down. He caught her eye as she finished placing her kiss on Max’s grave. “Ready.” It was all she spoke. He held her hand, his left hand holding the flowers for Alex, and they stepped down the path away from the grave. A grave now graced with the presence of a single white rose surrounded in a bouquet of forget-me-nots.

You’re in the arms of an angel
May you find some comfort here
You’re in the arms of an angel
May you find some comfort here.

_ _ _

Later that night
Valenti home

Kyle was spent after his emotional afternoon. Visiting the graves of his two friends had taken their toll and he could hardly keep his eyes open. He fell heavily into his bed and quickly entered what should have been a dreamless sleep.

Images of white assaulted him. They swirled around him causing everything to appear blurred. Kyle couldn’t focus on anything and felt increasingly dizzy as he tried. He was about to shout out for it to stop, but he then heard something that made his blood run cold. “NO!” Kyle looked all around him for the source of the voice, to confirm if it was who he thought it could be, but all he saw was white. Dark blurry forms moved in front of him crowding around one corner. He began to feel pain and intense panic, more than this dream alone had induced in him. The swirling white began to fade back into darkness as he heard one more time, “No!” and with that Kyle woke up, the frightened voice still ringing in his ears.

After a horrible week, I'm finally having a good day. So in celebration, I've decided to post the next part a little early with (as a bonus) the next part after that in two days time! Besides... they are on the short side. Hope you guys don't mind .

Ellie, Scottie and LTL- THANK YOU so much for your comments, they all made my day. It's amazing to hear that your writing could evoke such emotions!

And off we go...

PART EIGHT

The next morning
Valenti Home

Jim Valenti sat at the dining table, drinking coffee as he read the paper. He was already dressed in his deputy uniform ready to leave for his shift, starting in an hour. Though appearing to be engrossed in his paper, he snuck glances as Kyle entered the kitchen and went about getting breakfast.

As Kyle began to eat he finally had enough. “What? Is there something you want to say?” He bit out irately, still feeling unsettled from the dream he had.

His father gently placed the paper down, “Maybe I should be asking you that. Did something happen?” His eyes filled with concern.

Kyle shook his head a bit, not really wanting to get into the dream with his father. “It’s nothing…” he trailed off. He began to think, what if it was more than a dream? What if somehow Max survived and this was his way of calling for help? Or it was like a dream walk that Iz could do… oh my god, was he finally developing his powers?

“Kyle? Tell me. What is it?” His father had placed a hand on his shoulder by now. Kyle looked up and made his decision.

“I… I had a dream last night. It’s really unclear, it was all so blurry, but it felt real. I can’t explain it well, but I remember seeing white and then these dark forms crowding around something, I’m not sure what. But… I heard this voice, shouting ‘No!’ and the thing is... he sounded just like Max. I’ve been trying to rationalize it, thinking it was just my overwrought emotions from visiting his grave yesterday, but what if it’s more than that? What if he’s alive, dad?”

His father sighed, then softly, but deliberately spoke, “Kyle, don’t do this to yourself. It’s been three months, if he had been alive, Isabel would have found out and told us by now. Besides, I saw it happen, there’s no way he could survive that. It was just a dream.”

“But that voice, the pain, it felt so real!”

“Son… I know, I’ve had some of those dreams myself; reliving that day, hell the past three years. I even dream that I actually manage to save him—to actually protect everybody like I was supposed to. But those dreams are just that, as soon as we wake up, they’re all still gone.”

“But…” Kyle started to waver, no longer so sure that his dream was more than a dream. “What if they’re starting to show?”

“Didn’t Liz start to feel sick a bit before they did?”

His father was right; there were all sorts of scary side effects she went through before she was able to predict the future and blast things around like Michael. “Yeah, yeah she did.” He began to look at the table and trace a random pattern on the top.

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s still hard for me too and I just… well there’s nothing I can do about it, but I can at least see that you have a future.” His father tried to compose himself. “Now come on, school starts in a week for you, don’t you have some last minute supplies to get?”

“Yeah, I do.” Kyle tried to feel excited about going to college, but the voice from the dream continued to leave an unsettled feeling within him.

Ellie-Thanks, just glad it did start to pick up for the weekend a bit! I sure hope this coming week will be better, it's going to be even busier than last. But... I should be able to post another part around Friday.

LTL- Thanks, me too. On the story... unfortunately, Kyle has been convinced enough to not upset Liz and Isabel or even Maria, with the possibility that Max may be alive for the moment.


Note... I apologize for my ignorance on how to properly label government facilities and the sections within them... but oh well it's a story .

PART NINE

Hours earlier
Observation Room, Sub-Basement, Private Sector, West Virginia Base
West Virginia

All was dark in the room, the majority of the equipment already packed up. The only light spilled through the large window in front of one lone man. His tall frame stood still with exception to his hand nervously raking through his slicked back tawny brown hair.

The young agent stared through the one-way glass as the shivering occupant was prepared for transport. The tremors the ice treatment had brought on him had subsided slightly but not enough. Especially now that the blanket he had provided him had been removed. Though he was the enemy, the agent couldn’t help but feel some pity and concern. He suspected those feelings were exactly why he was sent to wait here instead of helping the other men in there.

“What the hell was that agent?” The head of their unit barked at him, startling him from his reverie.

He immediately jumped at attention and stammered out, “What was what sir?”

“You know perfectly well what I mean agent. You are to follows orders and only them. Where did I say to provide tea?” He menacingly spat out.

“I’m sorry sir, it was just that I was trying to follow your order of keeping him alive and he was going into hypothermic shock.”

He stared hard at the agent for a moment. Then with deadly calm, “That’s strike two agent. Never even suggest the possibility that thing is remotely human. It is a merciless killer, do not forget that.”

“Yes sir. I won’t. This will never happen again.”

“No it won’t. You are dismissed from the unit. Go home.”

“What? But sir, please—”

“Be grateful I let you leave this place alive. Though I am disappointed in your inability to remain detached from the subject, I do know you are a man of integrity and intelligence. Enjoy spending time with your family.” With that Agent Felding, spun on his heel and exited the room.

The young agent remained still for a few minutes, in shock about how close he came… Taking deep breaths to calm himself as his mind whirled at what he was to do now; he was as good as black listed from the entire bureau. Maybe he could have some friends from his old department to pull a few strings and get him a low key job. But first he had to get off the Unit’s radar, especially to protect his family. He looked to the room in front of him, now devoid of any presence. Though not a very religious man, he said a silent prayer for the prisoner; things were only going to get worse for him.

Posting a day early since this weekend will be busy! Hope you're all having good weeks.

Ellie- No matter how long or short feedback is, I'm happy to get it! Thank you and yes this week was FAR better than last.

Scottie- Let's just say Felding is not one to show any sympathy to what/who he deems the enemy and anyone who does... well you know.

Yes, Kyle still has doubts if the dream was real (and the fact if his powers have started to develop or not) and thus doesn't want to risk upsetting any of the others in case it was just a dream. In terms of how Liz and Isabel would react... that may be included later in the story.

Max has been moved to another location, the reason will be explained later on in the story.

I have the biggest grin on my face from your comments... you sure know how to make a writer feel special. Thank YOU for reading.

confusedfool- A new reader! Welcome and thank you for posting!


PART TEN

Three months after graduation
An Art Studio- Seattle, Washington
(Music playing in background: Unforgiven by Metallica)

The drapes were closed and a stereo system blared in the background. There was one lone figure in the center of the room, adding the final touches to a painting. The painting was a myriad of colors upon the canvas, save for one small area. This was the area he worked on, not with reds or blues but with black and white.

New blood joins this earth
And quickly he’s subdued
Through constant pain disgrace
The young boy learns their rules

The image being brought to life was of a playground, children running around. However, towards the right was a carousel with one child sitting forlornly on it. This carousel was different. Unlike the rest of the picture, expressing constant motion with its vibrant colors, it was stark still; a frozen black and white snapshot. The child, a young boy, probably six or seven years old, stared out observing the other children, while capturing one’s attention with too serious eyes. The boy was shadowed, but his eyes shone out. As the painter carefully darkened the boy’s hair, he took a step back to view his work.

With time the child draws in
This whipping boy done wrong
Deprived of all his thoughts
The young man struggles on and on he’s known
A vow unto his own
That never from this day
His will they’ll take away

As his own grey eyes took in the painting, a slight smile of satisfaction touched his lips, but then dropped as he reached the boy. He swallowed a lump back in his throat and then lifted his hand towards the boy, as if to touch him. He stopped just short of the canvas, and an almost indiscernible glow lit the painting there for a moment. The moment quickly passed and the painter tore his gaze away, proceeding to busy himself with cleaning his brushes. A loud knock was heard over his music—the Metallica CD he bought, the first of his new collection to replace the one he left behind. “Come in.”

What I’ve felt
What I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never be
Never see
Won’t see what might have been

The door opened tentatively at first then after a beat was thrown open fully. “Ray! How’s my favorite artist?” An attractive older woman brightly asked.

“Just finished my last one.” He pointed towards the painting.

What I’ve felt
What I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven

“Oh…” she gasped in awe at his new creation. “It’s stunning and the boy is there again… I think it’s in the eyes, but there’s just something that causes his image to haunt me.” She turned back to its creator, “they’re going to love you. I already predict a complete success for your show. All we need is a title for the show and possibly for each individual piece, but that is entirely up to you.”

They dedicate their lives
To running all of his
He tries to please them all
This bitter man he is

The painter just leaned back against the sink staring past his agent, once again trained on the boy. His agent began to fidget impatiently in the silence, even with the music still blaring in the background. “How about… let’s see, I think the emphasis is on these images of black and white you have in each one, they’re like snapshots—moments frozen in time. So what do you think? ‘Frozen in time’? ‘Shots of Memory’? ‘Images of …’no that would be too long, maybe just ‘Images of White’?” She talked quickly, almost with a desperate need to fill the silence, like a familiar figure from the past. Yet, she didn’t put in extra effort to gain his attention, she had learned by now that he’s always listening, always aware of what’s around him, even if no one else can tell.

Throughout his life the same
He’s battled constantly
This fight he cannot win
A tired man they see no longer cares
The old man then prepares
To die regretfully
That old man here is me

“Scars.” She had also learned by now that he was a man of few words, but much emotion, emotion that breathed life into his paintings.

What I’ve felt
What I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never be
Never see
Won’t see what might have been

“Just scars?” She asked, not scathingly to show disapproval, but matter-of-factly to confirm the exact title.

“Scars of White.” He said no more, but his eyes had taken on a stormy quality, clouded with the memories that inspired his creations.

What I’ve felt
What I’ve known
Never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never free
Never me
So I dub the unforgiven

“All right.” She quickly pulled out her Palm and noted it down. She pushed back her red hair as she asked, “what about individual titles?”

“I’ll get back to you with a list,” and with that he turned back to cleaning his brushes. She got the message and quickly vacated the room, closing the door quietly. In her line of work, she’d met her fair-share of brooding artists, but there seemed to be more to this one. A story of great loss, but she never tried to ask. It wasn’t her job to pry into his life, just to get his work the credit and attention it deserved.

Alone once more, the painter put down the brush and turned once more to the painting. He stepped closer to it, his breathing a bit erratic now. As he tried to calm himself down, he breathed out the words *my fault*. Swallowing yet another lump within his throat, and running a hand splattered with paint through his jet black hair, he whispered, “I’m so sorry Max. I’m so sorry.”

You labeled me
I’ll label you
So I dub the unforgiven

majikhands- hehe thanks for understanding. I just may have to check out those CC/AU stories sometime! And thank you for the advice. Technically those stories and this one have many parts written already, so muse-wise there shouldn't be a problem for awhile. But I think I'll wait until I post some more on this story then before I start on those (since I take time going over my parts editing/revising so much ;p).

Guest aka alienmom?- heh heh your post!! But yes I shall listen to "the master, magikhands" and postpone starting the other story for a bit.

BUT... I had time to do one last look over of the next part... so time to post and dash.

Note... though this is in the Alien Abyss I still feel the need to add a word of caution for this part... it surprised even me when I finished writing this part.



PART ELEVEN

Location: Unknown
Time: Endless

He woke to the blinding whiteness yet again. It seemed whether he woke curled up on the floor or strapped to a table, all he would ever see would be white. He still felt nauseated but not as severely as before. He remained perfectly still, having accepted his fate in here a long time ago.

Moments passed in utter silence, save for the shallow breaths he took. Then as usual in there, he suddenly was no longer alone. He heard the footsteps, but stretched out on the table as he was he could not see the agent. The steps stopped; the source still out of sight. Then a whirring noise began and Max felt himself being pushed up. He remembered another time so similar to this. At that time he had been terrified, trying to sink further down the seat, table, whatever it was he had been strapped to. This time, he did not struggle and just laid there waiting.

When the whirring stopped he found himself able to see who had entered. One of the two agents that had jeered at his pleading earlier, that had been second to welcome him to this hell stood before him. From his new vantage point Max glanced down at his latest restrained position. One arm hooked up to an IV had been strapped palm down, while the other palm up, displaying an already over-abused vein. His newly granted scrub pants had been replaced by a thin white sheet now pooled at his waist, spanning his lower body and covering a catheter.

After studying Max for several moments, the agent finally spoke. “You still seem quite unwell. Perhaps we have been a bit too hard on you” his usually hard tone adopting a feigned soft one. He lightly touched Max’s chest near to where he had been shot at graduation. The touch for once not of a gloved finger caused Max’s breath to hitch abruptly.

He continued to trail along the area where two scars, remains of the near fatal bullet wounds had been. “Do you miss them?” The agent’s face was so close to Max’s now, whispering in his ear.

“I…” he was almost going to admit that he did. That even still surviving in this place he longed to see the physical reminder of why he was in there, why he was there at all. “What are you getting at?” he asked instead, dreading where this interrogation was leading to.

“Such impatience. And here I was going to do something for you.” The agent taunted the insincerity clear in his voice. “You seemed so reluctant to get rid of them before, but now… well let’s just say I can give them back to you.”

Max remained apprehensive, but part of him jumped at the possibility to hope the end was finally coming. “Then why did you bother saving me from choking to death?”

The agent was silent for a second then soon laughed at the absurdity of the question. “We told you Mr. Evans, the fun is only just beginning.” He said no more, but when he spoke his eyes roamed Max’s bare chest once more as his hand reached into his pocket.

“Then wh—” But Max never got to finish his question. A searing pain shot through his chest. His body jerked, and as he cried out, his eyes shut tight. However, instead of darkness, he still saw white, as the electrical shock dispersed throughout his entire body. Its hot white energy caused his nerves to seem on fire. Time and time again he learned the hard way; pain was unending in a place like this. Just when he thought the lesson was over for the moment, it started all over again.