Title: Paradise

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This story takes place right before Max comes back in time in the episode The End of the World. It is my take on what exactly the end of the world would have been like. The inspiration for the story is taken from the song Paradise by Vanessa Carlton. You should listen to the song if you have not heard it before, it is really good. The lyrics are printed throughout the story, one verse at the beginning of each chapter.

Warning: This is not a particularly happy story.


Chapter One: World of Your Dreams

Once upon a year gone by
she saw herself give in.
Every time she closed her eyes
she saw what could have been

So this is the way the world ends, Max mused to himself as he stared quietly at the men in front of him. After years of this battle, he had long since given up panicking, and now he found that as he faced the end of his life, he could hardly muster the strength to even grimace. Life had worn away the edges of his soul, leaving behind a man who seemed to care for little outside the immediate moment. The king he thought he would never be shown through now, and the others saw it in his lifeless eyes.

It was no wonder to him then, that the men in front of him did not inspire even an ounce of fear to flow through his veins.

They were slowly surrounding him, their faces filled with grim satisfaction as they stared at the captured king, but Max merely stared back, his eyes unreadable.

I'll never have the chance to tell Liz I love her, Max thought suddenly, and oddly enough, that thought did cause a surge of panic in him, one he could neither fight away nor ignore. He felt the blood pump through his veins, and wondered briefly if he had given up too early.

But that was neither here not there.

Until the sound of a motorcycle skidding across the dirt road pulled the hybrid king from his stupor, and he jerked, staring out in the direction of the noise.

The others turned as well, their smiles faltering at the approaching roar. They flanked their leader quickly, prepared to battle the intruder. They could practically taste the victory today, and nothing would take it from them. The King was theirs, and soon his General and the Princess would fall as well.

A flash of light ripped through the air, a blast of energy that seemed to wake Max from his trance and throw him headlong back into reality. Time sped up, and he found himself acting without thought or planning. A force field burst from his hand, enveloping himself and his rescuer in a protective bubble. The skins hissed as they threw energy at him, but years of fighting for his life had served him well, and the barrier did not falter.

"Took you long enough," Max managed with a slight grin as he glanced at the man on the motorcycle.

"For a moment there I thought you were going to let yourself die," the man replied, reaching out and extending a hand to the hybrid king. Max clambered onto the back of the bike and extended his arm in a sudden powerful jerk, and the skins flew away from him, clearing the path for escape.

"And leave you to lead this battle, Michael? Never," Max replied.

The motorcycle roared again, and the two disappeared into the distance, the dust filling the air behind them until all that was left was a haze of tiny particles floating in the stifling New Mexico air.

"Let them go."

The order was sharp, cold, and all eyes turned to the leader. But Nicolas was unwavering in his decision, and as he stared out into the desert with dark eyes, the others nodded in reluctant assent and turned away.


The news came second hand from the most notorious gossip in the school, but it had a tinge of truth to it, too much for Liz to write it off as irrelevant. But she did not want to appear overly concerned by the revelation, so she simply accepted it with a polite nod and murmured some excuse about needing to get back to work. The girl had taken the hint and hung up the phone, but not after giving several possible, and exceedingly absurd, theories, most of which seemed to revolve around government conspiracies and artificial intelligence.

As she turned away from the phone, replacing it in the receiver with one hand, Liz caught sight of her weary reflection in the mirror of the small Boston apartment, and sighed. Her skin was pale, too pale, and her dark hair fell limply over her face. Her expressionless eyes seemed to fade into the background of her face, cold and unemotional.

It still amused her that Max used to write poetry about the way her face would sparkle when she laughed.

Max…

"What's wrong?"

Liz turned sharply and glanced over at her roommate, who had just entered the small living room. Serena was two years older and worked as a paralegal at one of Boston's most prestigious firms. It never ceased to amaze Liz that the girl had gone into that field when she had a PhD in physics, with an emphasis in quantum mechanics, but Serena did seem happy with her lot in life.

"Nothing," Liz said simply, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes and taking a few steps over to the sofa.

But Serena wasn't buying. "No, that was not a nothing look," the lanky redhead denied, her green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who was on the phone?"

"Sara Mazor," Liz replied quietly.

Serena gave a dark chuckle. Sara was a gossip and a flirt, but a generally nice person. Her blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes attracted endless attention from boys and men, and she never seemed to know when to turn her charm off. She was an endless fountain of information, and neither Liz nor Serena ever hesitated to beg her for the latest news.

But the drawn look on Liz's face informed Serena that whatever the news was, it was much more important than a faculty retirement or some grant awarded the business school.

"What did she say?" Serena asked gravely.

Liz sighed and flopped onto the sofa. "She said that there was a rumor floating around then the men in black are back."

"Men in black? Like alien police?" Serena asked, confused.

"No, the FBI," Liz elaborated, biting her lip. "Sara said they were asking questions today during electrochemical physics."

"About what?" Serena questioned with interest. The FBI's presence was not entirely unheard of, not since the bioterrorist attack in New York three years ago. They routinely made rounds throughout all the medical and science schools, asking questions in an attempt to ferret out any possible subversives. The Harvard Graduate School of Biological Sciences was one of the best in the country, so it was no surprise to anyone when the FBI showed up there. But the questions always left Liz nervous and apprehensive because she had a different, but equally dangerous, secret to hide.

"Just questions," Liz lied unconvincingly. Serena raised an eyebrow, and Liz sighed in defeat, then let the entire tale unfold. "Apparently they were asking about Cadmium X. It is a substance that appeared on Pierce when Michael killed him. Nasedo, when he was pretending to be Pierce, told everyone that it was all a hoax, and they disbanded the Special Unit. But now… now they were asking questions about how to make it. Is it possible to create that isotope."

"Do you think they are generally interested in making it, or that they've got some somehow?" Serena wanted to know, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. It had been years since she had been brought into the alien's secret, and it never ceased to amaze her what these people had to go through just to live. It was disgusting the way they had been persecuted by the FBI for so long, and terrifying that there were enemy aliens among them now as well.

Liz didn't answer right away. Finally, she said softly, "They were asking about it in conjunction with the bioterrorist attacks."

Serena's eyebrows shot into the air, and her eyes widened dramatically. "In New York? Do they think…?"

Liz shrugged. "I wish I knew. But it makes sense. Actually, it makes a lot of sense. The chemical used was one we had never seen before, and that was why it was able to wipe out half the state before we could stop it." She got up and began to pace in frustration. "Really, I'm surprised I didn't see it before."

Serena gave a low whistle. "You think the skins have attacked humans? But why? And why only do it then? Once, three years ago?"

"How do we know that is the only one?" Liz pointed out. "How many more attacks have their been where all the details are hidden by the government? Ten, fifteen? We always assumed that it was some new terrorist organization, but what if…" She closed her eyes, thinking. "What if Khivar does not want to engage in all out war with the world yet? What if all he wants is to weaken us, so that when he finally does take Max, Isabel, and Michael, he can then crush us as an afterthought?"

"You need to tell Max."

Max…

Her husband. The love of her life. She missed him so much it hurt sometimes. She had desperately wanted to stay with him, but he refused to let her give up on her dreams. The full scholarship to the Molecular Biology PhD program had been too tempting an opportunity to pass by, and as the hybrid king could not leave New Mexico, the two had found themselves on opposite sides of the country. Although they talked every night, and often every day, it still wasn't the same.

But after a while, she had also realized another reason he had wanted her to stay away from him. This war he was fighting had already cost lives…too many lives…she choked at the thought, wiping away the stray tears that fell whenever she thought of…

No.

She wouldn't think of that. Not today, not now.

And besides her dreams and her safety, being on the other side of the country had given her the opportunity to make some very powerful friends. Children of congressmen and fiancée's of media moguls gave her immediate news that was hardly ever available to the public, and she worked like a sieve, sorting out the useful information and passing it along to those in New Mexico. It was not a perfect arrangement, but it provided safety, security, and hope that one day everything would go back to normal.

But what is normal?

Ever since Max had entered her life, normal had disappeared, swept under the rug or tossed out the window. And she had taken Max's hand and walked away from what could have been, never looking back.

Except…

Sometimes, late at night, when she rolled over in her bed and felt Max's absence, when she remembered how far away he was from her, she would let the tears fall. She would grieve for the life she could have had, if Max had only been a normal boy. She would grieve for the friends she had lost in this war, and for the people who would never understand who she was and what she was going through. And she would grieve for all those shattered dreams of the perfect house with the beautiful white picket fence and the three children running around the yard after the Golden Retriever puppy.

Everything she had ever wanted, all those plans and hopes, those dreams…fate had a funny way of upsetting the best laid plans of mice and men.


Alex yawned slowly and rolled over in bed, watching as the sun rose slowly, casting rays of light through the glass of his window. He pushed his rumpled hair out of his eyes and dragged his feet over the side of the bed, stifling another yawn. He had been dreaming a dream he did not want to forget, a memory of a time when things had been better, when life had been simpler.

When Maria had still been alive.

Five years since her death, and he still could not forget. The funeral, the grave…Michael's broken expression as he knelt by the body, her body… Max's haunted eyes as Khviar's skins disappeared, Isabel's blazing anger… and Liz.

Liz had cried for months, her eyes perpetually bloodshot, her lips quivering with emotion every time she let herself think back to the those horrible…

No.

He wouldn't think of that.

He turned instead to the dream, trying to remember ever detail. It had been the wedding. He dreamt of it a lot, dreamt of all the happy moments wrapped up in that event. Max was bursting with anticipation and Liz had never looked so radiant, her dark hair falling in gentle curls over her beautiful face. She was wearing white, a simple but elegant gown, and her smiled seemed to glow.

And it was on that night that Isabel had first said she loved him.

Alex smiled fondly at the memory. Who could have known, at the time, what would happen? That they would be torn apart, scattered across the country? Liz to Harvard, Max, Isabel and Michael caught in the war in Roswell. And here he was, in California.

California Institute of Technology.

He had wished so many times that Isabel had come with him. She had wanted to come as well, she had told him as much. But the skins attacked, and she was called away from him and into service protecting a world that would just as soon kill her if they knew what she was.

It never ceased to amaze him, the things people did not see. Or was it that they saw, but chose to ignore? He could not fathom how anyone could live in New Mexico, in all of the United States for that matter, and not feel the presence of this underground war between the aliens.

A vicious battle that would decide the fate of more than one world.

The phone rang, blaring through the still air and jolting Alex from his bittersweet thoughts. He reached over and lifted it from the receiver, noting the number on the caller ID as he did so. "Isabel?" he asked hopefully.

"Hey," Isabel's voice replied. "How are you?"

"Good. You?" Alex replied. It was a pointless question, they both knew the answer. They knew that neither was actually remotely close to fine, but neither would admit to that.

"I'm doing well," Isabel replied.

Alex closed his eyes and listened to the voice. It soothed him the way no other ever could, the gentle rise and fall of her tone. He could hear her breathing, and for a moment, he imagined she was sitting next to him, and he could almost feel the air on his cheek. He could pretend that she was here, that she was never leaving him, and that she was whispering, time and again, that she loved him and always would.

And for that one moment, everything really was alright.


"Daddy?" the small dark-haired child tugged at her father's coat, trying to draw his attention. She watched as he turned and looked down at her, a smile of his face, and she beamed back. "Daddy, can you push me on the swing?"

"Of course, Abby," Kyle Valenti replied, lifting his young daughter into his arms and caring her over to the swings. She clung to the front of his shirt, her face buried in his chest. Her long blonde hair spilled over her face and obscured her features from view, and she clutched a gray teddy bear tightly in one hand.

Kyle deposited his daughter on the swing and began to push her, watching as she pumped her legs, trying to gain momentum. Abby was only four, and small for her age, but she was strong, and soon the swing was moving without his help. He stepped back and observed as she shrieked with laughter, her brown eyes widening as the swing reaching higher and higher towards the sky.

Kyle glanced up at the expanse of cloudless blue and shook his head. It seemed so strange to realize that he had once looked up at the stars without anything more than a passing glance. They used to be balls of burning gas, something that only interested astrologers. But now…

Now they were so much more.

And yet, in a way, they weren't. He had left Roswell directly after graduation, and hadn't looked back. There had been no reason to, because his father had moved with him, leaving that part of his life behind. There wasn't anything worth saving, and they had already sacrificed so much of their lives protecting someone else's secret.

And so he had moved. And three years later he had met Jennifer, they had married, and Abby had been the result of their honeymoon night. Sometimes he spoke to Max or Isabel, hurried conversations that had never held any importance. Empty words and empty feelings… And he rarely spoke to Michael, not since Maria had…

Kyle shook his head and turned his thoughts back to happier memories. He still spoke to Liz frequently, but even those conversations were stilted. She was caught up in something alien, and he had made it perfectly clear that he never wanted that to be a part of his life again. He had moved on, and he wanted normalcy for his wife and daughter.

And he was happy.

Well, mostly happy. There was still one thing missing, one moment in time he wished he could have changed. It woke him up in the middle of the night and left him breathless whenever he tried to forget.

The night Tess had left.

The fight. The screaming and the tears. She had stormed out of the Crashdown, livid and determined to leave the sleepy town as soon as possible. And the others, including him, had watched her go, not quite wanting to stop her.

But he missed her. He would never deny that, he missed her. They all missed her now, now that she was dead. That was the irony of life, wasn't it?

He had often wondered if he would have ended up with Tess, the way Max and Liz, Isabel and Alex, and Michael and Maria had. There had been so much in her that he loved, and he wanted to hold on to that, but she had slipped through his fingers like sand. If he had just help tighter, would it be a blue-eyed child on that swing?

And it wasn't even just Tess that he missed anymore. As much as he would have hated to admit it, as much as it galled him to know he still cared, he missed the aliens. He missed being part of the group, he missed secret meetings and conspiracy theories. He missed feeling like he belonged to something important, like he was doing something worthwhile with his life.

He shook his head again. There was no reason to dwell on all the 'what ifs' and 'what could have been.' What was done was done, life had taken him somewhere else, and he was happy.

Wasn't he?


Author's note: Now, I know this does not seem like it is going to be a candy story, but it will. I am going to include a lot of flashbacks with everyone to show how the war reached this point, and then I am going to carry the story forward right up until Max goes back in time. So for my candy readers, do not despair!

Next Chapter: Landslide

Due: Fri 3/17