Death in the Family
by Amethyst
Email: amethystluv@msn.com
This is a FINISHED FIC
Summary: It's the future and Roswell is in everyone's mind. It's in the mind of the scientist in Boston, who at this moment unconsciously rubs her stomach where all those years ago she was happy. It's in the mind of the model who in Milan is asleep, dreaming of the past. The mechanic in Houston is thinking about Roswell, too. So is the doctor in Sante Fe, the singer in Los Angeles and the artist in Little Rock. They all left Roswell after graduation. They promised to stay in touch and letters were sent and phone calls were made, but years have gone by and time doesn't heal all wounds; maybe they can heal each other.
Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah
Rating: G
Category: Other, future fic
Author's notes: Feedback makes me want to write more stories. I wrote this when I wasn't feeling very uplifted. A little sad, but you can save the tissue
((In Roswell))
The old man is watching re-runs of Saturday Night Live. During a commercial break he decides to get up and refresh his drink. He gets to the kitchen table and suddenly grabs his chest. He tries to reach the table with his hand but misses and lands on the floor. Everything goes black.
((In Los Angeles))
In the darkness the phone rings.
"H-hello?" She glances at the clock, it reads 5:14 am.
"Maria?"
"Yeah, it's me. What?" She is so tired.
"Maria, it's Kyle. My dad had a heart attack."
((Roswell Memorial Hospital))
"Mr. Valenti, your father suffered a minor heart attack. He-" the doctor is cut-off by the sheriff's worried son.
"Is he gonna be all right?"
"When he wakes up we'll know more. If it takes him a while to wake up, though," the doctor paused, "he could have brain damage."
The doctor saw Kyle's eyes widened in horror, and added, "There's no need to worry about that now. Let's just hope he wakes up soon."
Kyle had more questions, hundreds of questions, and would have asked them if he hadn't heard his name. He turned to see two vibrant young women. The first had long hair the color of sunshine that usually rested below her shoulders. Now it frantically whished side to side as the golden-hair singer quickened her stride. The second girl, shorter in height with her black hair put in a messy ponytail had eyes that sparkled a mile away. Kyle had always loved her eyes. The girls reached him at the same time and pulled him into a hug.
"Kyle, I'm so sorry," whispered Liz, her eyes tired but not losing their sparkle.
"Kyle, what can we do?"
"Maria, I just needed you here. I debated whether or not to even call you guys-"
"Wait, you weren't gonna call?" questioned Maria. The girls draw out of the hug. Kyle looked at the ground. He felt so lost. He needed to be held by them again.
'Don't cry,' he chided himself.
He said out loud to his best friends, "It was just so early."
Liz wrapped her arms around him again.
"No matter what time it is, call us and we'll be here."
They all sat down and discussed the retired sheriff's condition. Kyle told the girls of the potential brain damage, and they all cried. And cried. And cried. Over an hour later, Kyle stood up and rubbed his eyes. He looked at the girls. They were still crying.
"Uh, I need some fresh air," he said.
Liz and Maria knew he needed to be alone, so they didn't object to his leaving. He started to walk away, but was stopped dead in his tracks. The girls look up, and through their soaked-filled eyes they see their soul mates. Liz gasped at the doctor from Sante fe, who, looked as handsome as she remembered. Maria's jaw dropped when she recognized the artist, living in Little Rock, with his spiky hair and his love for paint obvious; she could see the paint stains on his sneakers. Kyle sighed as he viewed the model, with her long blonde hair and distinctive walk. Kyle smiled at three people who had had such an effect on his life. They were standing still like statues, and they looked so vulnerable. He glanced back at his crying buddies and saw the same look on their faces.
He turned to face them and said " I needed all my friends here."
He walked over to the three and hugged them all. Maria tried to hear what they were saying while Liz was in a state of shock. She was afraid to blink; afraid he'd vanish. She saw Kyle walk away, and out the door. Then she saw him walk towards her. They were walking towards the girls. When they stood before them, Maria found the strength to stand with them.
She broke the silence: "The sheriff is dying."
"We know. Kyle told us there's a chance," Max said, fixating straight on Maria, because he couldn't look at Liz. Too much pain in her eyes.
"I'm guessing he called you at dawn, too," the pixie said, trying to lighten the mood.
"Well, he called Max, and Max called us," Isabel pointed to the doctor.
There was an uncomfortable silence that followed.
"I'm gonna check on Mr. Valenti," said Liz, who quickly scooted out of her chair.
"I'll go with you. I haven't seen him in so long," Max piped up.
Liz looked ill at ease at the thought, but didn't object.
"I need some air," said Isabel. All three knew she would go straight to Kyle, but the two were too busy concentrating on not looking at each other to realize the model left. Finally, Maria sat down. She looked up; he didn't move..
"Michael, you can sit down."
He did, on the coffee table across from her. The silence was killing Maria. She thought of things she could talk about.
Finally, she said to him: "So, tell me about yourself."
He looked stunned that she actually wanted to talk to him.
"W-what do you wanna know?" He tried not to stumble over his words. She looked so beautiful. She was wearing a plain, faded green sweatshirt, blue jeans, and no make-up, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her.
"Michael, I haven't seen you since graduation."
He winces.
"So, really you could tell me anything," she said, not knowing what she wanted to say.
"Well, I..., um...," he started to stumble, again.
"What do you do for a living?"
"What? Oh, I draw, he replied.
"Draw?" she inquired.
He swallowed, in hope of wetting his throat.
"I, uh, I'm an artist in Sante Fe. I mainly draw, uh, deserts and things like that."
"Wow," she stated.
She saw him retreat back into his shell so she asked him what else.
"I live alone in a nice studio that looks like a mess, becuase I hate to do laundry, " he smiled.
She joined him.
"And I'll bet you all the money I've made as a singer that-" she was interrupted.
"I have you CD. It's really good."
He couldn't help disrupting her; he saw the way her eyes lit up at the compliment.
"Why, thank you," she responded, before going on as though she hadn't been interrupted, "I'll bet all my money that your fridge only has Mango Madness Snapple and Tabasco Sauce."
He grinned that grin that used to make her knees melt. She silently thanked God she was sitting down.
"Prepare to wrote me a fat check," he told her, his grin never leaving his face.
"What do you have in there?" She dramatized her shock.
"I have Pink Lemonade Snapple and Tabasco Sauce."
They couldn't help but laugh. Not fake laughter either.
"Well," she said, between laughs, "you gotta have the essentials."
Kyle turned his head to his right, and saw her looking around. She was looking for him. He looked at her swing her head, side to side. He looked her over. He thought to himself that she hadn't changed in appearance..
'Yeah,' he reaosned with himself, 'her hips are fuller, and her eyes aren't as bright, but she's still attractive.'
He called out to her, wanting her near.. She saw him, and walked over to him.
"Hi," she said.
What else could she say?
"Hey," he replied.
He left the girls in the waiting room, because he was tired of talking. He needed to be alone, but suddenly she was there and he felt like talking.
"How's Milan?"
"It's not bad. It's not home, though," she dropped her eyes to the ground.
"I know. I'm thinking of moving back."
He could feel the tears forming in his eyes.. She looked at him. She saw those tears. She asked him when he might be moving back.
"If my dad gets out of the hospital."
Oh no. It hit him. His dad might not wake up. He would move back to Roswell to take care of his father, but what if his dad didn't come home? What if he didn't wake up? He suddenly realized he might have to make funeral arrangements.
"Oh God, I can't bury my dad," he cries, as tears started to fall. Isabel didn't know what to do. She took his hand and placed it in her own. He looked at her, and then down at their entwined fingers. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. They both couldn't help but think despite the sorrow, how good they felt.
Max saw her a few feet ahead of him. She was leaning on the window, staring at the man who had saved her and her friends so many times in the past. Max could tell she was crying. He walked a few steps closer.
Suddenly, she spoke: "He looks so pale."
He didn't know whether she was talking to him or simply talking aloud. He decided to take a chance.
"Liz, we both know he's not weak.. He's one of the strongest people I've ever met. He'll make it through this."
He looked through the window and saw that he could be wrong; the old man looked so pale. She turned to face him. Her eyes were puffy, and her shoulders sagged. Max had to fight the impulse to pull her into his arms, and hold her forever.
"Max, he helped us so much," she commented, as fresh tears started to fall, "not just as sheriff, but he was there when we needed him. He helped us without a second thought. God, if it wasn't for him there's no way we would have been safe so long..." she trailed off.
She was too upset to speak rationally. Max couldn't fight it anymore, so he pulled her into an embrace. As he held her, he whispered into her hair that everything would be all right. Without letting go of him she took a deep breath.
"You can't..."
"I wish I could," he whispered, knowing what she meant.
"You can't stop old age," she stated.
"I want to. I want to help him. He helped us so much without even thinking about his own safety. He just wanted us safe..." he choked out his last few words after rushing the first.
He couldn't stand to see this old man, who protected him through everything in a hospital bed looking so small. So tiny.
"He looks so tiny," whispered Liz.
"You read my mind," he stated, still looking at Mr. Valenti, and without thinking he added, "Some things never change."
"Liz slowly let go of her soul mate and lifted her eyes to meet his. She saw the pain, regret and unsureness in his eyes. She recognized it immediately because that's what her own reflected every time she looked in a mirror. She couldn't think of anything to say, so instead she moved into his arms again. They just held each other.
((Two Weeks Later))
They had all said their goodbyes. They weren't ready to leave. So they stood there, silently. Isabel held on to Kyle's arm, crying. He laid her head on his shoulder and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He was so afraid of leaving. Max held Liz in that tight grasp they had perfected. Neither, feeling the safety they've craved for so long, wanted to let go. Michael placed his hand on Maria's lower back and she leaned into him. She cried openly with the others, but Michael only has silent tears. He hated crying in public. He hated crying, period. And he hated lost. God, how he hated funerals.
Four days after he went into the hospital, James Valenti passed away from this earth. He effected everyone he met, but he would never be forgotten by six men and women who were raised in Roswell and told stories of the great Jim Valenti to their children and grandchildren.