Title: Moments
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Author's note: This is set eleven months after Graduation. It is done in first person, but the narrator changes, so keep an eye out for that. Also, UC shippers be warned, this is strongly CC. Also, I have no idea how many volumes there are in the Oxford English dictionary. But eighteen seemed like a good number.
Moments
Liz's POV:
They're arguing again.
Michael is an inconsiderate jerk. Maria is a controlling girlfriend. Michael is a slob. Maria is a neat freak. Michael has no drive, no ambition. Maria has too much drive and too many dreams.
I close my eyes and lean my head against Max's chest, listening to the voices of my best friend and her sometimes-boyfriend. I can hear the gentle thump of Max's heartbeat and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Isabel is humming slightly off-key as she drives the van along the stretch of highway. Kyle taps his fingers against the window, beating out a soft rhythm not quite in time with Isabel's humming.
And for the moment, I am happy.
"Isabel, can you pull over?" Maria demands abruptly, twisting harshly away from Michael and swatting her shoulder-length blonde strands out of her blazing eyes.
"Uh…we're in the middle of the highway," I point out, frowning slightly at the request and opening my eyes. I glance back at Maria. "I don't think Isabel can pull over here."
"We're in Montana," Maria points out, rolling her eyes in contempt for the state. "There isn't anyone here to be annoyed if we block the lane for a little bit." She gestures around to the empty road, and I nod slowly, silently, knowing she is right. We haven't passed another car for hours.
Isabel pulls over and the minute the car stops, Maria yanks the door open and storms away, her eyes burning with anger and unshed tears. The rest of us climb out more slowly. Kyle sits on the hood of the car, his face blank, and I wonder what he is thinking. Michael takes a few steps out into the road and kicks moodily at some stones, his face dark as thunder. Isabel and Max stand next to me, arguing in hushed voices over who is going to talk to Michael.
"I did it last time," Max points out in a quietly dignified tone.
Isabel narrows those pretty eyes of hers and replies icily, "And I did it the four times before that." She shades her eyes with one hand and turns to stare at Michael's angry figure.
"He responds better to you," Max answers, the tiniest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. He really does not want to talk to Michael.
Isabel seethes, but nods in reluctant acceptance of his words. She sends one last spiteful glare at her brother, then, just for good measure, levels an angry stare at me as well, before stalking away.
I turn and stare out at Maria's distant figure. She's climbed the barrier next to the highway and is standing in the middle of a field of flowers. And I do not need to see her to know that her bottom lip is trembling slightly, and her eyes were blinking rapidly in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.
If Alex were here I would argue with him over who has to approach Maria. Argue the way that Max and Isabel argued. But Alex is not here, and as I feel the sharp pain in my heart at the thought of him, I know I am the only one who can talk to Maria right now.
I sigh and walk towards my best friend. The ground is damp under my feet, and I leave a trail of muddy footprints behind me. The air is moist with the morning dew, and filled with the overwhelming scent of heather and lavender. The sky is a brilliant sapphire blue, and the sun shines hotly on all of us. In the distance, a bird lets out a high-pitched trill, breaking the silent stillness.
By the time I reach Maria, she has composed herself. Her eyes are dry, her expression calm, and she greets me in a cheerful tone.
"Hey, chica."
Only the slight waver in her voice gives away her true emotions.
No point beating around the bush. "Michael's a jerk," I say.
This comment elicits a small smile from Maria, but her eyes are still shadowed.
"What did he say?" I press, running a hand through my hair. It is always the same pattern. I insult Michael, Maria smiles. I ask what he did, and a long string of crimes comes pouring forth. I listen sympathetically and interject my own commiseration, then, once Maria is done venting, I quietly remind her that, despite all his flaws, she loves Michael. And we walk back to the van together.
Only this time, Maria breaks the pattern. Instead of providing a list of grievances, Maria answers my question with one of her own.
"Do you think I made the right decision?"
I stare at Maria. She has turned away from me and is staring at the distant mountains behind us. I watch the light fall across her face, illuminating her features. She crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive manner as she waits for my answer.
But I have no answer to give.
There has never been any doubt in my mind that Michael loves Maria. And that Maria loves Michael. But is that enough? We've been on the road for eleven months now, and all they do is bicker. Every moment that I see them, they are at each other's throats. Loves does not conquer everything.
Look at Isabel. Alex and Jesse, both lost.
Will Maria end up like that? Or will she end up like me?
Because I am happy.
And yet, looking back at the van and at my four friends-at a sullen Michael and an exasperated Isabel, at a contemplative Kyle and a troubled Max-I can't help but wonder if I am the only happy one. Kyle has left his father, the one family he has. Isabel has lost her first love, her husband, and her chance at a normal life. Michael and Maria have lost the epic love they once had, the love that kept Michael on Earth when the others were leaving. And Max…
Max has lost his son.
So has Maria made the right decision?
How the hell am I suppose to know?
Isabel's POV:
I hate Max.
Well, okay, hate is a bit strong of a word.
I supremely dislike Max.
He is right, of course; Michael does respond better when I talk to him. But still…
Talking to a resentful Michael is like waving a red flag in front of a raging bull.
A recipe for disaster.
"Go away, Izzy," Michael murmurs without turning around. "I don't need a lecture." His voice is quiet, but it has a hard edge to it. I wince and stay silent, trying to think of what to do, what to say, while Michael continues to kick at the rocks in sullen silence.
I hate…no, I supremely dislike Max.
"Maria seemed upset," I comment dryly as I step in front of Michael.
He scowls back at me and makes no verbal answer.
"What were you arguing about?" I continue.
Michael shrugs angrily and looks away, his dark eyes narrowing.
"You love her," I point out, realizing that I am having an entirely one-sided conversation.
Michael's scowls deepens, but he does not deny the words. Instead, he turns and looks out into the field were Maria is standing. I follow his gaze and note that Liz is out there as well. The two girls are talking, and I can tell from the pensive look in Michael's eyes that he is wondering what they are talking about. But the moment Michael sees me watching him, his expression twists back into a glower.
"You stayed for her," I say quietly. It still hurts to mention it, to remember that he chose her. Not that I would have ever wanted to deny Michael the happiness that he had with Maria. But rather, it hurts to think about how much I would have missed him if we had left the planet.
The thought of leaving my parents, of never being able to see them again, fills me with such deep sadness. Even now, when I am able to call them every few weeks, it still hurts to know that it will never be safe for me to return there, to stay in that house, and to wake up to the sound of may parents arguing in the kitchen.
But the thought of never seeing Michael again…
It takes my breath away.
He is my brother, as much as Max is, and life without him, without either of them, is unimaginable.
Maybe some of what I am thinking shows in my eyes, because Michael reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. He says gruffly, "I doubt I'd do it again."
Which is, of course, a lie.
"You would."
"We don't have what we had then."
"You love her."
To which Michael has no reply.
I glance over at Kyle. He is drumming his fingers idly on the hood of the car, and I can't help but be reminded of Tess. Eleven months have passed since her death, and her presence still haunts us like a shadow that won't pass on. I see her now, stronger than ever, in Kyle's haunted eyes.
I know that this was harder for Kyle than for the rest of us. It was because of Tess that he and his father grew so close, and it was because of Tess that we were all torn so far apart.
Alex…
"She's gone," Michael says, and once again his ability to instinctively know what I am thinking unnerves me.
"No," I counter, "no, she isn't." I draw a sharp breath as pain stabs at me, as I finally put into words the feelings that have plagued me for so long. "Tess, Khivar, Pierce, Topolsky, Nicolas, Lonnie, Rath… They're still here, Michael. Haunting us, keeping us from moving on, from living again." The ghosts of our pasts that have never quite faded.
"Max and Liz are happy," Michael replies.
I glance over at Max. His eyes are trained on Liz, watching her every move. He stares at her as though he can not quite believe that she is real, and that she is actually with him. Yes, I must admit that Max and Liz are happy. Like a fairy tale, like a dream, they have moved out of the shadows of our past and attained their happily ever after.
And the rest of us have been left by the side of the road, unable to go forward, unable to go back.
"Wherever he is, whatever he is doing, Jesse is thinking of you," Michael says in a tone a gentleness I rarely hear.
A lump forms in my throat and it is suddenly hard to swallow.
Maria and Liz are walking back towards us now, and Max moves to join them. Kyle gets off the hood of the car and climbs back into the van. I turn to Michael, my expression serious, and ask, "Can you at least apologize to Maria?"
"For what?" he snaps. "Being who I am?"
"For being an insensitive jerk," I reply, and can't help but smile at Michael's angry and affronted expression.
"You don't even know what we were arguing about."
I nod. I don't know what they were arguing about. Their arguments are so frequent that I tune them out. We all do. That's the irony of it all; Max, Liz, Kyle, and I were in the car with them, and most likely not a single one of us knows what the argument was about.
"Doesn't matter," I quip. "You're always an inconsiderate, insensitive jerk." And I am only half-kidding.
"If she wanted sensitive, she should have dated Max," Michael responds in a low growl, and he is also only half-kidding.
He walks back to the van. Liz, Max, and Maria all climb in, then Michael moves to follow. But he can't resist one last parting shot, so he turns to me and says in an undertone, "I never asked Maria to come with us."
I hold his gaze for a beat, searching his eyes silently. Then I say in an equally quiet voice, "And she never asked you to stay on Earth." I turn, and walk to the driver's seat of the van.
It's time to drive on.
Kyle's POV:
"I wonder what the argument was about?" I comment. Several hours have passed since our previous stop, and Isabel is still driving. Liz and Max have fallen asleep, Liz's head resting on Max's shoulder and Max's arm wrapped tightly around her. Michael and Maria are asleep as well, each leaning in the opposite direction, as though afraid of touching each other. They have their heads resting against their respective windows.
"I don't know," Isabel answers as she peers through the falling dusk. We've been driving all day, and I can see the weariness in her eyes. We've passed only a few towns on the way, this part of Montana is almost entirely uninhabited. The fields of flowers and acres of twisted trees create a breath-taking tableau against the clear sky, but I suddenly find myself missing the golden arches of McDonalds and the smell of Starbucks' coffee.
"I wish my parents could see this," Isabel murmurs, gesturing with one hand to the road around us. I look out the window and nod silently, thinking that, while Isabel's parents might enjoy the beauty of nature, my own father would not.
Dad was never really a 'nature-guy.'
Dad. It's hard now, looking back, to remember why I came. Why had I left my only family behind on this wild goose chase across America with all these people I really didn't know?
Max, Isabel, Michael, and Liz came because they had to, or they would risk capture and death. Maria had come for Michael, and Jesse would have come for Isabel if she had let him. And anyway, Isabel has Max and Michael, who will always be so much more hers than they are Liz's or Maria's.
And where does that leave me?
The odd man out.
Max and Liz have this whole soul mate thing. They look into each other's eyes and they see the universe with all it endless possibilities.
It makes me want to hurl.
Max, Isabel, and Michael have a history together, a past. A past filled with accidentally shattered plates and hurriedly mended vases, with healed birds and random dream-walks, with fear and hope and discovery.
And now I'm waxing poetic.
Great.
The point is, they've got a connection.
And then there is Michael and Maria, and when I think about them, sometimes I want to shoot myself. Do they know the meaning of the word 'quiet?' Because if not, I would be more than happy to shove a dictionary down their throats.
Preferable the Oxford English Dictionary.
All eighteen volumes.
I'm sure Buddha would have something to say about non-violence. The problem is, I don't follow him that much anymore. Not because I don't believe in Buddhism, but because it is too irrevocably linked to those two words I don't ever want to remember.
Buddha Boy.
I want to rip her hair out. Again, probably not something Buddha would approve of. But I can't help it. The idea of yanking those blonde curls from her head, of forever wiping that smug smirk off of her face… Well, the idea sounds really appealing.
Her voice echoes in my mind, but it is twisted now. My memory has changed her laughter into cackles, her every look into furtive glances, her moves into calculated steps. An the part of her that I thought I loved fades away until I can barely remember the girl I once considered my sister.
And then the worst thing of all happens.
I miss her.
But I digress.
What was I talking about?
Oh, right. Why I came with them.
I've followed them all like sheep. That's what we are, a flock of sheep fleeing blindly from the FBI, from the wolf we can never quite see. He snaps at our heels, jaws flashing, then retreats into the shadow before we can catch a glimpse of his features. We never see him, but he is always there, waiting and watching in the dark.
I need to stop reading that poetry Maria writes.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Isabel's voice interrupts my contemplation, pulling me back to the present, and reminding me that there are other people in the car.
"We are all sheep," I mutter, not feeling the need to elaborate. She wouldn't understand, anyway.
"I think sheep are happier than we are," Isabel replies, her voice filled with infinite sadness. "They belong somewhere."
And all of a sudden, I am irrationally angry. How dare she feel sorry for herself? How dare any of them feel that way? I'm the one who is out of place here, I'm the one who doesn't belong.
"It is how I've felt my entire life, you know," Isabel murmurs, and a tear appears in the corner of her eye and makes its solitary way down her cheek. "Like I'm out of place."
My anger fades. I may feel awkward and different now, but Isabel, Max, and Michael have felt this way their entire lives.
"We can be happy, Isabel," I say. "Look at Max and Liz." I send Isabel a slight smile, trying to comfort her, to cheer her up.
But she gives me a doubtful look in return. "Or I could end up like Michael and Maria," she replies in a choked voice.
I twist in my seat and look back at the sleeping four. And although I don't say it, I would much rather end up like Maria and Michael than like Max and Liz.
It isn't that I don't think Max and Liz are good together, because they are. It is just that…well, I don't know how to explain it, but what they've got…it isn't real. It is a dream, and they've reached some point outside of reality, a point where everything is either perfect or the end of the world. There is no in between, no normal.
But with Michael and Maria…they argue constantly, they get into fights, they bicker, they break up and break each other's hearts. But then they get back together. And al I need is to see that one moment when they get back together, when they don't think anyone is watching. They look at each other, just look, and I can tell that their great epic love is still there, just pushed a little out of sight.
And I think Michael and Maria have known that all along.
And I really need to stop reading Isabel's romance novels.
Max's POV;
Isabel pulls the van over to the side of the road and stops it, then gets out to stretch. Kyle follows, clambering out after her and looking around. Behind me, Michael grumbles as he pushes his way to the door. I climb out after him, and Liz follows me.
Maria is still asleep, and none of us make a move to wake her.
Michael says something about getting a snack, and we leave him at the van as we walk away slowly. I put my arm around Liz, pulling her close to me. She smiles, her brown eyes filled with happiness, and life could not be any more perfect.
We walk into the field and find a few rocks to sit on. The air is slightly chilly, but it is a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the van. It is scented with cedar and the slight remnant of lavender.
Overhead, the stars shine brightly.
Michael catches up with us and takes a seat next to Kyle. The two start talking about football. Isabel sits on one side of me, and rests her head on my shoulder. Liz perches on my other side and starts pointing out constellations. Isabel rolls her eyes and mutters something about Liz being a nerd, and a try in vain to hide my grin. Liz glares at me in mock anger, and my smile turns into a laugh.
"Aren't you cold?" Isabel asks abruptly, frowning at Michael.
I turn and squint through the darkness at Michael, noticing with confusion that he is only wearing a T-shirt and jeans. "Weren't you wearing a sweatshirt just a moment ago?"
"It's in the car," Michael answers shortly.
"And your jacket?" Isabel presses, pursing her lips in disapproval. She is wearing three layers: a blouse, a sweater, and a coat.
"Car," Michael gives a monosyllabic answer.
"And you don't want them?" Liz questions in wonder.
It is cold.
Michael shakes his head in annoyance, and I am suddenly reminded of a rebellious two-year-old refusing to take the coat his mother wants him to wear. It is a stage that I will never see my son go through.
And I flinch at the thought.
Liz is staring at me shrewdly, and I know she can tell what I am thinking. She stands up abruptly and says, "Well, I am cold. Max, can you walk back to the van with me to get my coat?"
I nod and give her a searching stare, silently telling her that I am not fooled, I know what she wants to talk about.
We walk away from the others. Once we are out of hearing range, Liz turns to me and slips her hand onto my own, murmuring, "I can always tell by the look in your eyes when you are thinking about Zan. You give it away…"
I swallow. "I want to tell him to wear a coat, Liz," I whisper. "I want to be the one to worry when he runs out of the house with nothing but a T-shirt and jeans." I pause and catch my breath, then take a few slow gulps of air, trying to ease the tightness in my chest. "I want to see him grow up."
"You gave him safety, Max. You gave him protection," Liz replies in a hushed voice. She reaches up and lays a hand on my shoulder. "You did what needed to be done. He was a chance at a normal life now. A happy life…"
"And I could never deny him that," I agree. I look away, then up at the stars. The stars that I once thought of as home, as the key to all my problems, the answer to all my questions. Now I know better, and the stars are nothing more than distant balls of light I will never reach. "I just didn't know how hard it would be to let him go."
"I understand," Liz whispers. She reaches up and takes my chin in her hand, pulling my face around gently so that I am looking at her. And as I gaze at her, I know that she does understand.
She understands everything.
She knows how hard it was for me to let Tess leave with my son, and how much I needed to find him again. She knows how hard it was for me to give up the dream of ever seeing the planet I am from, of ever exploring the other world that I belong to. She knows how hard it was for me to move on with my life after so much had gone wrong. She knows how much I miss my parents, and how much I long for my son, and how much I wish everything could be different.
She knows that I want to be normal.
"He'll have wonderful parents and a happy life, Max," Liz continues, looking away and dropping her hands. She resumes walking, her voice quiet but filled with strength and conviction. "You've given him everything you can, you've done the best you could do. And he will be safe and healthy because of it."
"Thanks," I reply, my word filled with sincerity.
Thank you for everything you've ever done for me.
Liz' POV;
I smile at Max and glance over at the van. "I'll just run and get my coat," I say, preparing to climb over the barrier. "No reason for us both to go." I step away from Max and walk to the highway, then to the van. I pull the door open and glance in the back seat, looking for the coat, but my eyes fall on something else.
Maria is still asleep. But she is lying stretched out on the seat now, as though someone moved her so that she would be more comfortable now that she has more room. Under her head in Michael's sweatshirt, scrunched up to form a pillow. And draped over her like a blanket is Michael's jacket, with the worn out elbows and the hole in the bottom right pocket.
And I suddenly realize what I should have known all along.
Michael and Maria are going to make it. No matter what hurtles life sets in their path, no matter what turns they have to take, what hoops they have to jump through, they will make it. Because in the end, it isn't the public fights and bickering, or the storming off angrily, or the yells and complaints and grievances, or even the tears, that make the difference.
It is the moments that we don't see that matter.