Disclaimer:

In case there is any doubt about the matter, I own no rights whatsoever to Roswell.

Slow songs and reincarnated royl aliens

Chapter 1

A slow song began to play. The gym was full of metallic balloons, tacky streamers, high school kids who couldn't dance properly, chaperones on the lookout for students who might slip vodka into the punch or sneak off to have sex in the eraser room. And the gym was full of emotions that conflicted with one another – confusion about how one felt about one's date, mystic intimacy and unexplained anger and quiet tenderness and also the sort of hatred you only find when you're under twenty.

There was naïve, young love, of course, and in its wake a certain amount of heartbreak looming; there was scheming and plotting and Machiavellian elements to rule the school.

There were mean girls, wallflowers, jocks, geeks, loners. There were the beautiful people, and among them were those hoping to be crowned king and queen of the prom.

Only a few knew it, and the rest would not believe it, but in this crowd of high school students was an actual royal family.

A king, queen, princess, and a general who came of such noble stock that he too was in line for the throne. But the general population (of the school, the town, the country for that matter) knew nothing of these titles nor their import, because the kingdom in question was not one written about in our history books. This king's throne room was too far away. And then, of course – these royal four were in hiding.

Max smiled awkwardly at his date as the slow song began to play. She didn't immediately reach out to put her arms around his neck; he was hesitating as well. He didn't know why. It wasn't like he hadn't held her before.

She was the only girl he'd had sex with, for god's sakes, the only girl he'd ever spent a whole night with, in his bed, and even that night had not felt magical, or insane with pure love, it had been the most comfortable night he'd ever spent. And he did love this girl. She was comforting, sweet, good.

Yes, Liz was good.

Liz was a pretty girl with brown hair and honest eyes. She seemed spunky and sweet at the same time. After they'd broken up last year, Max had spent months fighting to win her back. Now she'd allowed him to escort her to the prom. He might actually have a real shot with her, again. (Have "them" back the way they were.) Even if Max and Liz had come to the prom "as friends," perhaps they could leave as "them." This was the prom for god's sakes. It was inherently magical.

But looking down at Liz, taking in the slinky black dress, and her expression filled with both hope and trepidation, Max wondered what he had been fighting for.

Instead of wrapping his arms around her waist and moving in to allow her to wrap her arms around his neck – which just seemed like it would push their bodies together too closely – Max maneuvered into the classical dance pose. With his right on her hip, and his left hand grasping her right hand, Max led Liz in a makeshift waltz.

She laughed.

He stared over her shoulder instead of into her eyes.

He wondered if Elizabeth Parker was actually the love of his life, or merely an ex-girlfriend who was a symbol of the life he wanted.

Or had wanted.

Most days he still wanted that life. Newspapers and coffee in the morning. Nights spent studying late in the college library. Frat parties on the weekends. Watching her get drunk on those few occasions she allowed herself to unwind and throw back inhibitions. Sunday spent in bed with a nasty hangover, followed by Gatorade, aspirin, and later on, chicken soup. Quizzing each other on biochem and astrophysics, respectively. Internships. Graduating from college with respectable GPA's, which would get them accepted to respectable graduate schools. Respectable careers. Respectable business suits. Accolades.

And then, newspapers and coffee in the mornings.

Good sex – not astoundingly great, but good was good.

Comfort.

Sweetness given and received.

The feeling of general safety and contentment.

Max Evans still longed for that life with this girl he still loved. But he wasn't sure if it was possible. Even more so, he wasn't sure if he wanted it. Not anymore. Not wanting normal – that's what scared him the most.

Being denied a normal life would suck. It would royally suck.

But if he just didn't want that life, then he was a radically different person than he'd been two years ago. Maybe he didn't even know himself anymore. (Maybe Liz could never hope to know this new Max Evans. Maybe she wouldn't want to try.)

Max realized that despite his attempts, he hadn't been leading Liz in actual dance steps. They'd been moving and swaying without a purpose. Glancing down at her, he saw her staring at him with that expression of tempered hope.

Well, he could at least dance properly. Maybe that would be enough to assuage his guilt. He began to waltz, trying to remember the lessons they'd taken last year. She'd been trying to win a scholarship from the dance studio.

Liz giggled and tried to follow his tentative waltz.

He glanced down into her brown eyes.

His pace quickened.

After couple minutes, Liz stumbled but he held onto her. "Max," she murmured, "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think we'll crash into someone if you don't stop the funny dance steps."

"They're not funny. It's a waltz."

She frowned again and said nothing more as she tried to follow his lead.

Now that she'd pointed it out, Max realized he'd been changing the steps. Maybe they weren't waltzing anymore.

Yet, he was sure that these were actual steps to an actual dance. Yes, the instructor had taught them a wide variety of dancing styles. This must be something. The Merengue or the Tango or… well, it didn't matter. They were dancing, she was not falling over, and that's all that mattered. Even if they didn't end the night in bed, he could still dance all night with her. That had to mean something.

Then – a flash.

For just a moment he wasn't in this room. Liz was nowhere to be found. Instead he was dancing with another small woman, willowy build, blond hair with flecks of blue and green throughout her moonlit strands.

They were in a ballroom, and she was matching his steps perfectly. Everyone around them was dressed in evening wear that was less flashy than high school prom wear. Not cheap at all, but instead reminiscent of the kind of clothes rich people wear in old movies when they attend balls or coronations. (Now, it wasn't the same as anything he'd seen in Earth movies. This was distinctly alien. Even the materials were more foreign than anything he'd seen).

Antar.

He was remembering a ball on Antar.

And the woman in his arms was Ava.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the flash was gone. Max was shocked back to reality, to the present, to a sea of cheap prom dresses, cheaper rented tuxedos, and that scent of desperation always present at school dances.

"Max?" Liz said, sounding worried. "Are you okay?"

He paid Liz no attention. Instead he searched the room for someone else. He knew she was here, the girl who bore a resemblance to the willowy blond who'd lived on Antar so many years before.

Ava – his wife in that past life he'd heard so much about.

Ava – the woman he'd been running from since he found out she existed, since he learned about his royal title and his so-called destiny.

Max seldom had flashes of his past life. He'd never seen Ava's face so clearly.

"You've got this funny look," Liz was saying.

"Hmm?"

"Your eyes. You've got this funny look."

Over Liz's shoulder, Max could see a blond girl sitting at a table, drinking punch. Tess Harding. She was dressed impeccably in a long blue dress. In the flash he'd just gotten, Ava had also worn blue. It was almost the same shade, though the Antarian material Ava was wearing was like nothing he'd ever seen. It was like fabric woven from clouds.

"What do you mean?" Max said to Liz now, looking down at her. He smiled a fake smile.

"You're somewhere else," she said. "And I don't know where you came up with these dance steps!" she laughed, then stumbled. Then she actually fell.

"I, uh," Max said, pulling her back up to standing. "Maybe you're right.

"Tell me about the internship," he said as they sat back down at their table. All of their friends had abandoned the table long ago, to dance or make out or do whatever they came to the dance to do.

"What?" Liz asked.

"At Las Cruces. This summer. Aren't you applying for something?"

She grinned. "I didn't know you were paying attention when I was telling you about that."

"Of course I was," he said kindly. "I'm excited for you to have that kind of future." And he meant it.

She kissed him on the cheek. He did not lean in for a real kiss.

"Tell me everything," he said instead.

Smiling almost shyly, Liz explained about the coveted internships available in the biochemistry lab at the University of New Mexico, Las Cruces. There were two or three spots reserved high school students. Of course she knew everything about the program's supervising professor. She'd read every single one of this articles.

"You know," Liz said. "You could apply too."

He smiled sadly. He'd been thinking the same thing. It was the sort of thing he'd dreamed of too. "They'd never let me in, not the way my grades have taken a nosedive this year."

Liz considered this a moment and then brightened. "Maybe if you wrote a killer essay. I mean, they're not that bad, right. You've got a 3.4 or something don't you?"

"3.38," Max said with a laugh.

"That's good enough to be considered, if your essay is phenomenal. And you'd need two recommendations. Do any of the teachers still like you?"

"Probably not."

"There must be somebody," she said. And then she was off and running with the idea, her hands flailing excitedly as she spoke. They could do it together, she was saying. This would be a perfect summer. And the deadline was still a week away. This must be a sign from the universe. Maybe they could be together after all. Everything had been quiet on the alien front for a while. Max almost believed her. But then he glanced up and saw Tess staring at him. Wasn't she supposed to come to this dance with Kyle? Where the hell was Kyle? Why would he leave the blond girl alone like this? Max noticed how her pale blue dress accentuated the subtle curves of her petite body. She smiled at him. He smiled at her and raised a hand to wave. Liz wasn't paying attention to the little exchange. She had found a pen in her purse and was furiously making a list on a series of napkins.

"This is your to-do list for the weekend," Liz said.

"I really can't do this," Max said.

"That's silly. You just have to apply yourself. I mean, you want to get into a good college, right?"

"Honestly, sweetheart?" Max said, standing up. "I have no idea. No fucking idea what I'll be doing next week let alone for college." He kissed the stunned girl on the cheek and walked away from her.