From the archives: Yes, I located my stash of Roswell fanfic while I was at my parents' home over the holidays this year. Aside from a few spelling corrections, I'm publishing them without major editing. Yes, I was a much different writer when I initially wrote and published these (15+ years ago, which is mind-boggling to me). Please be kind to the version of me that wrote these.
Disclaimer: Didn't own it then. Don't own it now. Roswell and its characters (still, I assume) belong to Warner Brothers. The poem at the end is mine.
Her head was pounding and her eyes were blinded by tears. The one thing that kept her alive by continuously beating was breaking apart, and was swallowing the small breaths of air that her lungs managed to let her have. The road stretched out before her, and she realized she was wandering with no intended direction. She was lost.
All she could think of was that she didn't want to remember anything.
Then everything started to combine: the heat, the loss of air, the slippery gravel. All she knew was that everything started to fade, to grow blurry, and then she lost all consciousness.
When she awoke, all she noticed was the blinding light. The man standing by her side never entered her mind until he spoke.
"Are you all right, Missy?"
She took a glance at the man, and searched her mind for the face. It didn't register, and she realized that she was face to face with a stranger.
"Well at least you're awake. You'd still be lying unconscious out there on the highway had I not been on my way to Santa Fe. Say, what's your name, young'un?"
The girl stared at him puzzedly.
"Where you from?"
Again, a blank stare met his question.
"I guess you're not really into talkin' much are ya? That's okay. Let's get you to the doctor, darlin'."
The man helped her into his truck and continued on his way to Santa Fe. When she began to drift off to a land of slumber, the man quickly repiled,
"Now don't you fall asleep there, ya hear? You fall asleep and you might never wake up again."
The girl silently nodded her head in consent, but she could already feel her eyelids growing heavy once more.
The closing of the driver's door was what roused the young woman from her sleep. She then felt the wall behind her begin to give way slowly as the man attempted to keep her from falling out into the road.
"We're here, Missy. You better wake up. The emergency room is right over there. We need to get you in there as soon as possible to make sure you'se gonna be alright."
The girl struggled to stand up, and in the process, leaned on the man's arm. She looked at her surroundings and wondered where she was. She recalled the man saying something about Santa Fe. If only she could remember where Santa Fe was.
They slowly wobbled over to the building and in through the doors. As they entered, the man slid the girl into a seat located in the waiting area. He then proceeded to the front desk to fill out paperwork.
"I gotta girl here that I found on the highway. She was unconscious, and so I thought I'd bring here in for x-rays. I don't know who she is or where she's from, and I'd reckon she doesn't either. Will that be a problem?"
"It should be alright," the attendant replied, handing him some forms, "but she will have to be registered under your name and the bill will have to be paid at your expense."
"That's alright. I'll take care of it. Thank you, Miss."
With that, the man walked over to where he had set the young girl down, and commenced to fill out the forms.
When he finished, he gave them to the attendant at the front desk.
"Miss Evans."
"That's us, Missy. Come on. That's it. Good girl."
She started to stand up unsteadily as the man helped her maintain her balance.
Her mind began to race. Evans. The name sounded so familiar and yet so foreign, as if it had once been part of her world, but she felt that it couldn't be for anything could sound or seem vaguely familiar.
They walked into the examination room, and the doctor began to ask the man questions.
"Where did you find her?" queried the doctor.
"Jus' out on the old highway. She was unconscious and didn't come to for awhile."
"And you don't know a thing about her?"
"No, sir. Jus' found her, that's all. I feel sorry for the poor soul, though. She looks as though she hasn't slept in days."
"I can agree with you there. Will you be willing to take care of her until she begins to regain her memory?"
"I sure can try. I don't know much 'bout raisin' children. Never did get married. It's jus' me livin' on my own these days, doc, but I sure can try."
"That's great. She'll need someone to watch her and every once in awhile question her about where she's from and who she is. Can you do that?"
"Like I says, doc, I can try."
"That'll have to do. Well, then, let's take a look."
The doctor began to examine the girl and immediately noticed a bruise on the back of her head. Then he began to talk with the man.
"She'll need to heal the back of her head. She has a nasty bruise. Also, it might be awhile before she starts to regain memories or speech. Even when she begins to, however, it will be a long time until she regains them fully. Be patient, and don't yell. It will be very helpful if she has something with many pictures in it to stimulate the memory. That way, if one thing in a picture triggers something, such as an emotion about something in her past, it'll come to her faster. Do you understand?"
"I understand, doc. Thank you for your kindness. I right appreciate it."
"No problem, however, I will need to write a prescription for medication. It will help to relieve headaches if she ever gets them, as I'm sure she will. It looks as though she has one right now. Let me get her something for that. Just a moment."
The doctor left the room in search of a pain reliever, and the man wandered over to where the girl was seated.
"You got a headache, young'un'?"
The girl tentatively nodded her head.
"You remember anything yet?"
This time, she shook her head.
"Alright. That's okay. I'm Mr. Bill Evans. I live near a small town in New Mexico. You can call me Bill."
For the second time, the girl nodded her head, and for the second time she felt that there was something similar about this Bill Evans. Something she needed to remember.
"Here you go, Miss. This will help you with that headache."
The girl took the two clear green capsules and swallowed them.
"Well, I'll take that as a sign that she'll be alright. You two should get going, although it'd be best if you stayed in town for the night. Here's the prescription I told you I'd get you. Take it easy, both of you."
"Thank you, doc. I can't say how much it means to me that she'll be alright. We might as well stay the night in town. I'se got some things I need to pick up anyway."
Bill and the girl got up to exit. The girl had more balance now, and was less reliant on Bill to stay standing, but she still needed him for the small part of her that was unsure of walking. They reached the truck, and Bill helped her in.
"I suppose it ain't right for me to just call you 'Miss' all the time. How 'bout I call you, 'Annie'? That alright?"
The girl once more nodded her head. The name didn't sound familiar, though, and 'Annie' had a feeling that it really wasn't her name at all.
They pulled up at an old motel on the outskirts of the city. Bill went in and came out with a key to a room.
"Two beds. So's you're not uncomfortable."
They walked slowly inside, and Annie laid down to rest. She soon fell asleep, so Bill went out to pick up some of the things he had come to town for.
"Bye, Annie. I'll see you in a bit. I'm jus' going to pick up a few things."
And with that, he left.
She awoke in the morning to the sound of the shower running. She looked at the clock, and saw that it read 5:00AM. No wonder she was tired, but then she remembered Bill saying that she looked as if she hadn't slept for days, and she wondered why that would have been.
They were soon on the road to Bill's home. Annie slept most of the way, and Bill silently watched her while wondering where she had come from and who she really was. He had only known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he felt a responsibility for the young girl.
About three hours later, they pulled up in front of an old house. Annie looked around and marveled at how small and old-fashioned it was.
"It's not much, but it's all that I got. It's only been me around here for awhile now, and I know that it doesn't even compare to some of them newer houses that have been dubbed 'normal', but as they always say, 'Normal is vastly overrated.'"
Annie smiled and then frowned. There was something about the 'normal' saying that made her head spin. She could almost hear a soft, loving voice asking her what was so great about being normal. The fact that it seemed real confused her. It didn't make sense. Why was she remembering little bits, but not everything? She wanted to remember. She wanted to know about the people that loved her, about who that soft voice belonged to, but her mind wouldn't let her, and something in her heart told her that she didn't want to remember.
Annie had been with Bill for two weeks. The days passed slowly and Bill frequently went to town to find new magazines and books that would stimulate Annie's mind to remember.
On one of his trips, he brought home a journal. He figured that it might help Annie figure out some things if she could sort them out on paper.
During the two weeks, Annie had begun to talk more and more. The amazing thing was that even though she still couldn't talk very well, her ability to write was not impaired by her experiences.
The day that Bill brought home the journal, Annie sat down and wrote.
May 29, 2000
I've found that despite the fact that I don't know who I am or where I'm from, and I can barely string a sentence together, that my ability to write has not been harmed.
Bill has been so kind to me. I feel at home here, even though I know it isn't. His last name sounds so familiar. It'll all come back to me someday.
He brought this journal back for me from town today. I think he feels it will help me regain some of my memory if I can sort it out on paper. Maybe. You honestly never know.
Writing seems natural to me; as if I'd been writing for most of my life. I feel the need to write; to free myself from the burden of my mind.
There has been one thing that troubles me here in this wondrous place. There's a picture on the mantle of a small boy. The picture isn't what troubles me, however. It's the young boy's eyes. I know those eyes. I feel as if I know his heart, his soul, just by looking in them. It's the only thing that I'm sure of. I won't ask Bill about it, though; I'd be too embarrassed.
I'll remember in time. I have to.
Love,
Annie
Later that evening, Bill found Annie outside staring up at the sky. She looked as if she was questioning it; asking it where she came from and who she was.
"Annie? You all right?"
"Yes, Bill. Can I ask you something?"
"Sure. Go right ahead."
"What is that bunch of stars that look like a 'V'?"
The look on Annie's face puzzled the man. She looked confused, and as if she was trying hard to remember something that wasn't coming to her.
"I don't right know, Annie. They look like geese flyin' in the sky to me. Why do you wanna know what some stars are, Annie? They're still stars even if they have a name."
"I know. There's just something about that group that makes me feel sad."
"Well, maybe I can help you out with that, Annie. I'm gonna go back to town early in the mornin'. I might be gone by the time you get up, but don't be worried now. I'll be back."
"Okay. What are you going to do, Bill?"
"Keep my secrets. That's for sure! You get to bed at a decent hour tonight, ya hear?"
"Yes, Bill. I'll make sure to do that."
Annie went back to her room, and wrote the second entry in her journal for the day.
May 29, 2000 (Later)
What else could there be in the universe besides us?
I've lived my whole life and I don't recall seeing anything from out in space. Of course, I don't remember much of anything.
I feel as if the stars are calling me. Telling me I need to go home. Telling me that someone is waiting for me, and that person without me is like the night sky without its stars. Is someone waiting for me at home? I wish I could remember where home is, and who it is that I feel waiting for me.
Bill is up to something. He's going to town again. He went earlier today. Why is he going again? I guess I'll have to wait for that answer.
The picture still troubles me. It's definitely the eyes that are bothering me. I know I know those eyes. Who do they belong to? Maybe someday I'll ask.
Maybe someday I'll remember.
Love,
Annie
The next day, Bill was up and gone before Annie began to wake. When Annie did get up, however, she was greeted by the singing of the birds in the trees and a gentle summer breeze blowing through the windows. She made herself some breakfast, took her medicine, and then decided that she'd sit down and read through one of the many books that Bill had gotten for her on one of his many trips to town.
As she began to read, she thought about how lucky she was that Bill had found her on the side of the highway that day, and how wonderful he had been about taking her in and letting her have a place to stay while she attempted to regain her past.
By the time she had finished the short book, she noticed that it was already almost noon and decided that she might as well get something together for lunch because Bill would be back from town soon.
She opened a can of soup and placed it on the small stove. Then, she began to make some sandwiches. She used whatever she could find that was edible and was normally eaten on a sandwich.
While she was rummaging in the cupboards for some bread, she can across a bottle of Tabasco sauce. She held it in her hand and slowly stared at it as if it would start talking to her at any given moment.
"Aren't you going to tell me why you strike me as part of my past? Why would I remember that something like Tabasco had a part in my life?"
Something snapped in Annie's mind, and she suddenly realized what she was doing.
"I'm talking to myself. Oh my! I don't know who I am or where I'm from, but I'm talking to myself. Oh, but wait! I'm not talking to myself, but to a condiment!"
Thinking she was crazy, she placed the Tabasco back in its place on the shelf and memorized its location so that she could remember never to look there for anything again and therefore never have the problem of talking to a condiment ever again.
She finished preparing lunch, and ventured outside to wait for Bill. At about five minutes past noon, she saw him casually strolling up the driveway. He looked as if he was ready to give a surprise party for someone's birthday, and Annie immediately knew that he was hiding something.
"Lunch's ready."
"Why, thank you, Annie! I've got something for you! I think you'll take a real liking to it!"
"Something else, Bill? You do spoil me!"
"Well, this is more for entertainment than some of the other things I've been getting you."
He handed her a package wrapped in store-brown butcher paper.
"Thank you, Bill. I really do thank you."
"Don't just stand there gawking! Open 'er up!"
She carefully opened the package and found an astronomy book. Before she could realize what was coming out of her mouth, she exclaimed,
"It's just like the one Alex used to have!"
Bill looked bewildered.
"Who's Alex?"
With his question, Annie realized she had said something and had not known what it was she was saying. It sort of came out like her brain goofed up or something of the sort.
"Alex? I don't know an Alex! Why on earth did I say that? Bill, I think I know that I knew an Alex, but I don't know who he is!"
Annie began to cry, as though defeat had cornered her and smashed her last hope.
"Shh! It's alright, Annie! It'll all come back in time. You jus' wait and see. You'll remember who this Alex feller is in time. Calm down now. That's a good girl."
"Do you really think I'll remember?"
When she said this, Annie was trying hard to hold back the tears, and her voice began to waiver.
"Of course, I do. You know I do. Now let's go inside! I must say, I'm right hungry! You said something about lunch?"
A grin spread on both of their faces, and they ventured inside to eat their noonday meal.
After lunch, Annie got up and went to her room. She sat on her bed and stared out the window. After awhile, she got up and took out her journal and a pen, opening the book to the next blank page.
May 30, 2000
Alex.
There are so many questions:
Who is he?
What part did he play in my past?
Is he the one who I feel waiting for me?
Is he the young boy in the picture with the soulful eyes?
Was he my friend?
My enemy?
My soul mate?
Why has my mind let me remember a name, but not a face, a role, a voice, or a story?
Why do I feel that my mind has run off into the woods and has left me tiny bread crumbs to help me find it?
Why do I feel so hopeless? So weary? So defeated?
Why can't I remember?
I want to remember.
I want to remember it all: the stars, the names, the faces, the eyes, everything.
I want to remember who's waiting for me.
I want to remember home.
Love,
Annie
A week later, dreams started to invade Annie's peaceful slumber.
Darkness. Pure, terrifying darkness.
The long corridor turned, and she could see light coming from a room at the end.
Wandering into the room, she saw that it was white. Completely white. Blinding and suffocating her from all directions.
The feeling of fear floated in the room, as ubiquitous as the dark cloud that filled the area near the ceiling.
She could feel his fear.
She could hear him screaming her name, and although she couldn't decipher whom it was that he was calling for, she knew it was her, and she felt immediately fearful for whoever it was.
Then she saw the image.
She was lying dead on the street.
He began to scream and convulse, to writhe violently and cry louder.
"No!"
Then everything went black once more.
Annie woke up with tears cascading down her cheeks.
She immediately turned on her lamp, and took out her journal.
June 6, 2000
Many people say that dreams can haunt you.
Many people also say that memories can haunt you.
Both are haunting me.
I've seen the images before. Felt the fear. I know I have.
Why does my memory block certain aspects of the story out?
Wait. I remember something. It wasn't a story.
I know that much.
Why can't I remember the rest?
My mind is confusing me. I remember bits and pieces, but never something in its entirety.
I think I want to remember, but I don't know anymore.
My heart tells me that I want to forget.
Does the heart forget? Or can only the mind forget?
If I forget, then the dreams, the small things, and the bits of memories won't haunt me any longer.
I know it's wishful thinking, however.
They'll haunt me whether or not I remember.
It's what I don't remember that haunts me the most.
Love,
Annie
Annie hadn't slept in a week, and the dark circles under her eyes did not go unnoticed by Bill.
Bill was worried.
He had heard her shuffling around at night, and had barely made out the muffled cries that escaped her mouth when she awoke.
He traveled to town to see if there was anything available that could help her to sleep better at night. He didn't find anything.
Bill returned with a scented candle to help Annie "relax".
Annie lit the candle that night as she prepared to write in her journal. The smell diffused into the air and Annie felt herself drifting off before she could wake herself.
It was the same dream.
The same darkness.
The same corridor with the light coming from a room at the end.
And yes, it was the same blinding, suffocating white that made her fearful of the place.
Again, she felt his fear, heard him scream, and saw herself lying dead.
But this time, something was different.
She saw his eyes.
She knew those eyes.
Then the black enveloped her once more.
Annie awoke slowly.
She picked up her journal and began to write feverishly.
June 14, 2000
The eyes.
The eyes are what haunt me now as I sit and recollect that awful dream.
I felt calm when I looked into them.
I felt whole.
I know those eyes.
I must ask Bill tomorrow. I'm sure that he knows who the boy in the picture on the mantle is. If he doesn't, I don't know what I'll do.
He must know.
I must ask.
I must remember.
Love,
Annie
The next morning, Annie woke up with high expectations. She was going to ask Bill about the boy in the picture.
She found him outdoors in the garden. He was weeding the vegetables and getting very dirty as a result.
"Mornin' Annie. Could you hand me that rag over there?"
Annie smiled back and looked around for the rag he was indicating. She reached for the rag, grabbed it, and then held it out for Bill as he stood up near the side of the house. He wiped his hands on the tattered cloth to rid it of the loose dirt that had formed into clumps in the spaces where his fingers met his hands.
He leaned up against the side of the house to rest; balancing himself by placing one hand on the white paneling.
"Thanks, Annie. How are you feelin' this mornin'?"
"Better, Bill. Much better. I was wondering about something. Could I ask you about it?"
"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you wanna know, I can sure tell ya. What is it?"
Annie wrung her hands behind her back and braced herself to ask the question that had haunted her for weeks.
"Who is the boy in the picture that sits on the mantle? Is he a relative?"
"Who? Let's see... That would be my nephew. His name escapes me at the moment, but that's alright. He's about your age, I'd say. As a matter of fact, I forgot to tell you! I had a letter from him last time I went to town! He said he and his sister were gonna come out with some of their friends and stay with me this weekend. Somethin' about bein' out of school and trouble at home, if I remember correctly."
Bill paused as if he was unsure what that meant.
"Why! That's only a few days off! We need to start cleanin' this place! Say! I'll go into town tomorrow and get some food to stock up the cupboards, and as long as we get this place tidied up and ready for visitors, I'm sure we'll be ready. You'll actually be able to talk with folks your own age, Annie. Goodness! Ain't that somethin'!"
With that, the old man chuckled and removed his hand from its resting place. A muddy handprint was left where Bill's hand had been just moments before.
Again, Annie felt her mind racing. The memories were coming back to her more easily now, yet still nothing made sense.
The rest of the day was filled with cleaning and taking stock of what was in the kitchen.
"Let's see... I definitely want to stock up on Tabasco while I'm in town. That nephew and niece of mine, they certainly go through that stuff quicker than a horse being branded. Say, Annie? Can you check up in that cupboard over there and see how much we have? I can't remember when the last time I bought some of that spicy stuff!"
Annie slowly walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. There was one half-empty bottle left.
It was the same one that she had talked to.
She stammered,
"Just-just a half of a-of a bottle, Bill."
"Thanks Annie. You know the drill. If I'm not here when you wake up..."
"...don't worry. I know."
With that Annie smiled and left to go write in her journal.
June 15, 2000
All this hustle and bustle makes me wonder about who this "boy" is. I'm sure that by now he's very grown up. Bill said he was around my age.
Yet, although I'm happy to be finally seeing someone my own age, I'm a bit frightened by the thought of meeting the boy from the picture.
I'm scared because I know him.
At least I think I know him.
Maybe I just know his eyes.
Maybe he can tell me who Alex is. Who I am. Why I was on a highway at the beginning of summer.
Maybe he can tell me why the muddy handprint that Bill left on the side of the house earlier makes me feel the inside of me falling back into place.
I hope so.
I so desperately want to know the person behind those eyes.
I so desperately wish that the inside of me was falling back into place.
Love,
Annie
Bill set out early the next morning to go to town and stock up on foodstuffs. Annie watched him leave with a spring in his step. He was excited about seeing family again, and Annie got the feeling that he didn't see them very often.
Annie went back inside to finish cleaning the house. As she cleaned, she wondered what the boy and his friends would be like. Where they were from, and if they knew who she was.
The thought struck her that they might not know who she was.
Annie quickly turned and went into her bedroom for a nap.
As she slowly drifted off, she made a mental list of what she had done. She had cleaned the kitchen, prepared the two upstairs bedrooms for the guests, cleaned the living room,...
Annie fell asleep.
The darkness surrounded her once more.
She followed the corridor as it bent around the corner.
Again, there was light at the end.
When she reached the end, she saw that it was different.
She was looking out over Bill's property towards the setting sun.
She saw five people with their backs turned to her.
She recognized them. All five. She knew them.
The sun set and the figures disappeared.
Annie awoke to noises in the living room, and arose to freshen up before going out to meet their guests. She guessed Bill had returned home and seen that she was asleep, as she heard his voice mingling with others in the house.
To Annie, the voices sounded familiar, as if each one had had a place in Annie's heart in the past. She hurried herself to be ready as quickly as possible.
In the background, she heard Bill saying,
"You've got to meet my Annie! She's just the prettiest little thing you ever saw!"
And Annie also heard the puzzlement in the visitors' voices as they questioned as to who she was and why he hadn't written about her.
Annie smiled. She felt that this was going to be an interesting visit.
Annie strolled out to meet the faces of Bill's nephew, niece, and their friends. Bill saw her first, motioned her to come near, and then exclaimed,
"Here she is! Here's my Annie!"
Annie saw each body turn slowly to see whom he was motioning to, and she also watched as each pair of tired-looking eyes widened.
Bill didn't understand why everyone was so quiet, so he continued to introduce,
"Annie, I'd like you to meet my nephew, Max Evans, my niece, Isabel Evans, and their friends."
Annie was at a loss for words.
She knew these people.
Out she stammered,
"They're my fr-friends, too, Bill."
Bill chuckled, still amazed at the silence in the room.
"Well, that's a good thing! We wouldn't want there to be folks under this roof that we couldn't get along with!"
Annie looked at Bill and restated what she had said. She felt her strength returning.
"No, Bill. Truly, these are my friends."
"Annie, I don't know what you're talking about!"
He stared at Annie puzzedly.
"They're my friends from-from Roswell, New Mexico!"
Annie could feel her memory returning and her voice growing steadier as she recalled more of her past with the people in the room.
A look of realization came across Bill's face.
"Annie? Do you remember?"
"I'm beginning to."
A small blonde in the crowd found her voice.
"Annie? Do you remember me?"
"Maria? Maria! My best friend, Maria! Oh my gosh! Is it really you?"
The two friends hugged until Annie opened her eyes and saw a tall, skinny, gangly boy standing behind Maria. Annie suddenly realized who it was.
"Alex! Oh Alex! The one with the astronomy book!"
The boy looked a bit embarrassed at the mention of the book.
"Astronomy book?"
"Ooh! It's such a long story! You'll have to wait!"
She twirled around at the finding of her two best friends, but suddenly came to a stop in front of the boy with the eyes.
And she suddenly remembered what she didn't want to remember.
Annie ran into her room crying.
Once there, she opened her journal, and began to write.
June 16, 2000
I'm Annie Evans, and I've begun to remember things.
I remember that I have two best friends: Alex and Maria.
I remember that Alex had an astronomy book, and that he gave a copy of it to Isabel.
Isabel. She must have been out there. I forgot to look.
And Michael. Michael who broke Maria's heart more than once.
Then I remember Max.
I remember that Max Evans saved me.
I remember that Max Evans isn't normal.
I remember that Max was kidnapped and tortured.
And I remember that Max has a destiny.
I remember what I didn't want to remember.
As my memory begins to return to me, I can remember who I am.
I'm not Annie Evans. I've known that for a while now.
I'm Liz Parker, and I don't want to remember.
Love,
Liz
Liz heard a soft knock on the door, and a voice almost whisper,
"Liz?"
Liz didn't answer, but the door slowly opened to reveal Maria standing there looking extremely worried for her best friend.
"Do you remember?"
Liz slowly nodded her head.
"What happened, Liz?"
Liz began to find her voice as she attempted to tell Maria about how she had come to be Annie Evans.
"I left Max and the others at the caves, Maria. I left. I found myself wandering down the highway because I was lost, and then I passed out. Bill found me, took me to the doctor, and gave me a home here until I could remember. I didn't remember much but little bits until I saw everyone in the living room."
Tears started to fall out of Liz's eyes.
"I don't want to see Max, Maria. I don't want to see him."
Maria hugged her friend tightly and struggled to find the words to soothe Liz's choking sobs.
"Shh. It's okay. Maria's here now. Don't worry. It'll be okay."
A shrill ringing sounded from behind the house. Maria began to giggle.
"That would be the makeshift dinner bell that I saw Michael piecing together earlier. I guess that it is time to eat."
Liz glanced at Maria and the look in her eyes told her that she didn't wish to eat with the rest of them.
"You have to face him sometime, Liz. You can't hide or forget forever."
Liz nodded and slowly rose to follow her best friend to the dinner table.
Dinner was extremely quiet.
Nobody said a word.
Glances were tossed in every direction: Isabel and Alex were mooning over each other. Maria and Michael were the same way.
And Max's eyes were burning their way back into Liz's heart.
Bill tried to start up a conversation, but it was awkward. The person that had stayed with him for weeks was different to him than she was to the other five at the table.
Liz finally got up the nerve to ask questions that she didn't want the answers to, but that she needed to know.
"What happened to Tess?"
Isabel took the liberty to answer.
"She's back in Roswell. She's found new friends, and therefore she basically ignores us. She just left after you went missing. She kept blaming herself for your pain."
Liz nodded for what seemed the billionth time that day, and then took a deep breath and asked another question. She put on a serious face and prepared for the worst.
"Okay. Tell me the truth."
She paused.
"How much schoolwork did I miss?"
One by one the members of the group began to laugh. Liz had broken the ice by being herself. The room was suddenly alive.
"You don't want to know!"
Alex.
"You'll flip when you find your pile of makeup work!"
Maria.
"All I know is that you missed finals."
Isabel.
"Yes, but even though you missed finals, I showed up for them!"
Michael.
And then a small, barely audible whisper came from across the table from Liz.
"I already copied all of your biology notes. You don't need to worry about that class."
Liz froze. In the commotion she had forgotten that Max was in the room.
No, she hadn't forgotten. She wanted to forget.
She ran out into the yard and continued to walk until she reached a spot on a cliff where she could sit and think.
She knew he was behind her.
She remembered Maria's words.
"You have to face him sometime, Liz. You can't hide or forget forever."
She took a deep breath as he took a seat beside her.
Both forms sat lifelessly for a long time.
One decided to break the silence.
"You left me, Liz."
A soft reply came back.
"I know."
"I thought we were going to defy destiny, Liz."
Liz sat silent for a moment and then replied.
"We were, but it was too hard. Things got complicated. Your mother, Max. Your mother sent you a message. She told you that you and Tess had been married in the past. You've lived before, Max."
Another eerie quiet filled the space between them.
"I don't remember it, though. Tess didn't either. She just repeated what she had been told. Tess realized I'd never love her. I couldn't love her. I've loved you for as long as I can remember. I don't ever remember loving Tess. I'm not sure if I ever did. I'm not sure if she ever loved me, either. I don't care about our destinies."
Max let loose a loud sigh.
"Don't you realize that I'd rather have you and real love than an empty destiny with false delusions?"
Liz's answer was barely audible.
"Yes."
Max heard her but continued to talk.
"Geez! Do you know how worried I've been over the last few weeks? I felt you disappearing was my fault. I couldn't live without you, Liz. It's not possible for me. I didn't sleep at night, and all I do was wonder where you were and if they were being kind to you. Why do you think my parents suggested this trip? So I could get away and relax a bit. I couldn't fathom that you were dead. I saw you dead twice, and I never wish to see you lying lifeless ever again."
"You saw me dead twice?"
"You died at the Crashdown the day I saved you, and I saw you..."
"...In the image that Pierce doctored of me lying on the sidewalk."
Again silence surrounded the two.
Max tentatively spoke,
"You saw that?"
Liz looked him directly in the eyes for the first time that day.
"I know what happened, Max. I saw things when we were in that abandoned motor home that night, when we..."
"...when we kissed. I remember the haunted look that appeared on your face. I'm sorry that you saw those things, Liz. But I'm still here. I'm still alive. You're still alive."
Liz's eyes began to overflow with tears as she looked at Max.
"Do you think you can forgive me for running?"
Max smiled, placed an arm around her shoulder, and drew her near to him.
"I think I can manage that."
Liz sighed deeply realizing that she remembering and that things would be different now.
Max heard her sigh and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Liz smiled warmly up at Max.
"Thank you for helping me remember."
"All I did was show up. Everything will be all right. Don't worry."
The two sat and watched the sun move behind the horizon, and then turned to walk back to the house.
Both would sleep well tonight.
The next day dawned bright and early.
Liz awoke from a night of peaceful, dreamless sleep to find a clear blue sky and the birds singing in the trees.
Liz felt like singing herself. She felt renewed. Refreshed. Ready for anything.
Well, almost anything. She didn't want the day to end.
Liz decided to open her journal. She thought too much had happened the day before to be able to write an entry that was comprehendible, but she chose to write anyway.
June 17, 2000
I feel like flying!
I know who I am. I know whom I love.
I know who was waiting for me. And I know who the boy with the eyes is.
My Max. Always and forever.
Today will bring many things, but I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.
He doesn't care about destiny.
And he forgives me for running.
I feel that I could face anything.
I feel as if I am flying!
Both my heart and mind remember, and my soul is soaring!
Love,
Liz
Liz got ready for the day and walked into the kitchen where everyone was gathering for breakfast.
She was immediately worried because Max wasn't in the room.
Maria sensed Liz's concern, smiled, and assured her that things were all right.
"He's still sleeping. He needed the rest; It's the first time he's slept in weeks."
Liz breathed a sigh of relief and took her seat at the table.
Everyone commenced to eat.
After breakfast was finished, and the dishes cleared away, Liz went to go find Max.
She peeked in on him and found that he was still asleep.
She couldn't help thinking that he looked peaceful when he slept. As if every guard had been let down.
She quietly closed the door and walked out into the living room.
It was there that she found Maria.
And it was there that Maria asked her a question that Liz hadn't thought about.
"Are you coming home, Liz?"
Liz found herself in her bedroom taking out her journal with its now-worn cover.
June 16, 2000
Am I going home?
Home.
Alex. Maria. Isabel. Michael. Mom. Dad.
Max.
Max is home.
Or do I want to stay here with Bill?
Bill.
What will happen to him if I leave?
He'll be okay. At least I hope so.
Am I going home?
I remember home.
My old room. My rooftop.
My old journal.
At times I miss home.
But am I ready to go back?
Am I ready to leave the home I've found here?
Love,
Liz
A tear trickled onto the page as Liz closed the pages.
Liz was still for a few moments. She felt frozen in time.
The door cracked open to reveal Alex standing outside.
Liz smiled softly and told him,
"You can come in. It's okay."
Alex quietly shuffled into the room and took a seat next to Liz on her bed.
"I guess Maria asked you."
"She did. Alex, I hadn't even thought about leaving. About going back home."
Tears started to fall freely. Alex embraced her, happy to know that she was at least safe and alive.
"Are you coming home, Liz?"
The answer was almost inaudible.
"Yes."
Alex sensed her question before she asked.
"Bill will be fine, Liz. The Evans have been attempting to get him to move to Roswell for years. You going back might be the stimulation that he needs."
Liz was silent for a moment and then began to ask more questions.
"Why would he want to? It's so beautiful here, Alex. He loves it here. What would happen to the land? The garden? The house? It's his home, Alex. I can't ask him to leave."
"You don't have to, Liz. He'll make a decision on his own."
The makeshift dinner bell began to ring in the background.
"Come on. It's time for dinner. You-know-who finally woke up. I'm sure you want to see him and talk with him for a bit afterwards..."
Liz hit Alex on the shoulder as a grin spread across his face.
"Okay. I'm a bit hungry anyway."
They stood up and headed out to the kitchen.
Liz smiled at Max, who was sitting across from her.
She took a deep breath and prepared to tell those that she loved what might be her biggest decision ever.
"I'm going home."
Everyone froze.
Bill dropped his fork.
"I said I'm going home. With you. Tomorrow."
Still nothing.
Alex glanced over at Liz with a 'what-do-you-do-now' look on his face. He was just as puzzled as she was by the silence.
All of a sudden the room came alive.
Maria jumped up out of her seat and ran over to wrap her arms around Liz. Liz felt herself smiling at how tight Maria was hugging her.
Isabel surprised both herself and everyone else by joining the two girls in their hug.
Michael, however, kept his distance, and smiled because he knew that no one was looking.
After the girls loosened their hold on Liz, she walked over to where Max was now leaning against the wall, smiling secretively.
"What are you thinking about, Max?"
"How happy I am that you're coming home."
Liz smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, from her position, she was able to glance up into his eyes.
He reciprocated the gesture and moved his arms around her as well.
They stayed like that until Michael spoke up.
"Where are we going to put her? On the roof?"
One by one they all began to laugh, and soon they were all holding their sides.
It was typically Michael.
Everything was okay. Everything would go back to normal.
But what's so great about being normal?
Eventually, the excitement died down in the room.
And eventually, everyone began to sit back at their respective spots at the table to finish what was now a cold dinner.
And Liz noticed that Bill was no longer at the table.
Liz's face grew worried.
"Did anyone see Bill leave?"
One by one the faces around the table reflected her worry.
Liz got up and ran to Bill's bedroom. She knocked on the door, and then opened it.
Bill was inside staring out the window.
"Bill?"
"Yes, Annie?"
"Are you all right?"
"I will be in time."
"Do you want me to stay, Bill?"
"I do want you to stay, Annie. You can't though. You have people at home who are worried and need you."
"You could come to Roswell, Bill. I'm sure the Evans would put you up until you could find a new place."
"I couldn't do that, Annie. I'd miss this place horribly."
"Well, maybe you wouldn't have to sell it. You could keep it. You know, come up here every once in awhile to make sure that it's kept up, and then we could all come back and visit on vacations."
"Annie, you don't understand. This is my home. Your home is in Roswell."
"Yes, Bill, it is. But you see, I have a problem too. I have two homes. One is in Roswell. It is where I grew up. Where I made friends. Found love. The other is here. With you. With you and the sunsets. If you stay here, you'll be plagued by me every summer. This is my home, too."
Bill turned and smiled.
"You're welcome anytime, Annie."
"Thank you, Bill."
Bill got up from the bed and stood by Liz. Then together they went out to join the rest of the group.
After everyone had finished eating, Liz and Max went on a walk to the place where they had been the night before.
Once they arrived, both sat down, and looked to where the sun was once again setting. Max draped his arm around Liz's shoulder.
"I'm going home."
Liz's voice was almost a whisper.
"I know."
They sat together as the sun disappeared once more.
Another day was done.
The next she was going home.
When Liz returned to her room that night, she found herself writing in her journal for what seemed to be the thousandth time in the past two days.
June 16, 2000
I'm going home.
To Alex. To Maria. To Isabel. To Michael. To Mom. To Dad.
To Max.
I'm leaving home.
This strange haven has become a home to me. I found myself here. I found a new life here. I lived here, and I was someone else here.
And I'm leaving Bill.
Bill. Whose heart is made of solid gold.
Bill. Who never pushed me to find the answers, but encouraged me to do so.
Bill. Whom I've grown to love as a father, and who's grown to love me as a daughter.
I'm leaving Bill.
And I'm leaving Annie Evans.
I'm leaving tomorrow.
Why does saying 'Goodbye' always have to be so difficult?
Love,
Liz
After she finished, Liz placed her journal in its spot.
She crawled under the covers, and attempted to go to sleep.
The following day dawned dark and stormy.
No one arose until late because of the darkness.
By the time that Michael awoke, who just happened to be the last to rise, all the lights in the house had been turned on to shed light into the darkest corners.
Max and Liz sat on the couch in the living room engaged in a quiet conversation and wrapped in one of the many old blankets that frequented the house.
Alex and Isabel were on the stairs talking as well.
Maria was at the table talking with Bill.
Michael ventured over to the doorway where neither Bill nor Maria could see him.
He heard snippets of their conversation.
"I'm sorry that you can't come with us, Bill. Liz is going to miss you so very much. You've given her such a wonderful home over the past few weeks. I'm in debt to you for finding her and keeping her safe."
Maria leaned over and gave Bill a gentle hug.
Michael felt that they were all in debt to the man.
He had saved their sister and their friend.
And now he was losing her.
Michael felt sorry for Bill Evans.
As the day wore on, the skies began to clear and the sun began to shine.
The group packed and prepared for their trip home.
Liz placed things in her suitcase slowly.
The clothes that Bill had bought for her. The astronomy book. The candle.
Then she remembered her journal.
She decided to write one more entry before she packed it away.
June 18, 2000
I'm going home.
Today.
I'm leaving home.
Today.
Things will never be the same as I left them in Roswell. Things changed over the last few weeks.
I changed over the last few weeks.
Now I have two homes. I am two people. I have two families.
And now I'm going home.
Home to those who don't know me anymore.
Home to what I remember.
Home.
Today.
I'm more frightened of that than I think I have ever been.
Love,
Liz
Liz lay the journal in the top of her suitcase on top of her clothes, and closed the lid, zipping it shut in one quick motion.
As had often occurred in the past few days, Liz heard a knock on her door.
And she heard his voice.
"Liz?"
"I'm in here, packing."
He opened the door and came into the room. It was the first time he had been inside since they had arrived.
"So this is where you've lived for the past few weeks? It's really nice."
"This is where I've lived. This is where I began to remember."
Max had his hands behind his back, as if he were hiding something.
Liz grew curious.
"What do you have, Max?"
Max grinned shyly as if he were embarrassed. He brought it out.
"Bill wanted you to have this."
It was the picture. The one of the boy. The one of Max.
Tears welled up in Liz's eyes.
Max walked nearer to her to give her a hug.
"It's all right. He's going to miss you too."
Liz held on for a second and then broke the embrace to walk back over to her suitcase where it was lying closed on her bed.
She slowly unzipped the case, and slipped the picture in between two layers of clothing. Then she zipped the suitcase shut again.
Liz took a deep breath, picked up the suitcase in one hand, and picked up her jacket in her other hand.
"I'm ready."
Max and Liz walked side by side out into the living room.
Everyone was there waiting.
Michael was the first to speak.
"Let's load the jeep first, and then we can come back in."
Murmurs of approval were heard.
One by one the group struggled along to get out the door and to the spot where the jeep had been parked two days prior.
Once they were there, they piled suitcases, pillows, and other luggage into the back of the vehicle. The jeep looked as if it would fall over.
"Was it like that when you guys came?"
"Yes, it was. Don't worry, Liz. When we get in, it'll balance out the weight. You'll see."
Liz smiled thankfully at Max.
Then the six of them returned to the living room where Bill was waiting.
Liz walked over to Bill and hugged him. She sighed into his shoulder and then pulled back.
"I'll write. I promise. And I'll come visit a lot. You'll get sick of me soon enough."
A smile began to form on her face as well as on Bill's.
"I'll write back. I promise. And maybe someday I'll come to Roswell for a visit."
Liz gave Bill one last quick hug.
"Thank you for everything."
"Thank you for allowing me to enjoy life a little more. You'll always be my Annie."
And with that, the group started to shuffle out the door, each telling Bill thanks and goodbye.
Liz was the last one out. She turned back to look at the house.
She felt as though she had gained ten years. Maybe she had.
Max helped her into her seat, and then went to get into the driver's.
As they drove away, all six waved back at a man named Bill Evans. Whose love and compassion had saved one in their midst.
Eventually, Bill disappeared from sight, and Liz turned around to face the front for the rest of their journey home.
The ride seemed longer than it should have. No one talked. Not even Maria.
Finally, they arrived in Roswell.
First, Alex was dropped off with Isabel at the Evans' house. Then Michael was dropped off at his apartment, and Maria at her home.
Last, Liz was dropped off at the Crashdown. It was closed because both the waitresses and the cook had taken a break for the weekend.
She blew a kiss to Max as he drove away. She knew he wanted to make sure that things were all right when she saw her parents, but she also felt that he knew she wanted to face things on her own tonight.
She was Liz Parker.
She was home.
Liz had gone inside and found her parents in the living room.
They had been shocked to see her, and began to ask questions about where she had been.
Then they suddenly stopped and realized that she was exhausted.
They told her to go up to bed. That they could talk in the morning.
Their 'I love yous' echoed in Liz's head as she attempted to fall asleep.
But she couldn't sleep.
She was lying awake trying to recall the events of the day.
She got up out of bed, turned on her bedside lamp and reached for her suitcase.
Quietly unzipping the top, she reached inside for the journal that Bill had given her.
She crept out onto the rooftop, sat down, and began to write.
June 18
I'm home. And at the same time, I'm not.
My parents haven't changed much. They still worry over me constantly.
I've changed. I was somebody else for weeks.
No matter how hard I try, I can't shake the parts of me that belong to Annie Evans.
I'm not sure that I want to.
I wanted to forget, and I forgot.
I wanted to remember, and I eventually remembered.
I discovered parts of me that I never knew existed, and I lost parts that I did.
I've changed.
What forgot? My heart or my mind?
I remember reading something long ago that I placed in the back of my mind.
If I remember correctly, it was written like this:
"When I no longer wanted to remember,
The details plagued me.
When I no longer wanted to feel,
My heart was breaking in two.
When I no longer wanted to listen,
Voices continued to sound in my head.
When I no longer wanted to live,
I wasn't brave enough to let myself die.
When I no longer could remember,
The vagueness confused me.
When I no longer could feel,
My heart felt hollow.
When I no longer could listen,
My thoughts continued to echo countless times.
When I no longer could live,
My heart continued to search for answers.
Some say that it is the heart that fails to remember,
Or that it forgets by merely wishing to.
I feel otherwise,
For what the mind fails to remember,
The heart never forgets."
I know it's true.
My heart never forgot, but my mind, that allows me to remember, did.
My heart could never forget.
Love,
Liz
Liz closed her journal, and returned to her room. She placed the journal back inside of the suitcase, and took out the picture.
The boy with the eyes. Max. Her Max.
She placed the picture on the table next to her bed, and climbed under the covers.
Liz reached up to turn off the light.
As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell fast asleep.