Summary: Liz did what she came to do; she went back into the past and saved Zan. But Zan is nothing if not dangerous, and every action he makes creates a ripple effect that will change the world Liz knew beyond all recognition. It's a new timeline, but does that really mean it will be a better one?
Disclaimer: I do not own Liz Parker, Zan, or any of the other characters or places of the TV show (and book series) Roswell.
AN: Second chapter – wanted to get it out before Christmas. I apologize because it's pretty short, but I'm also considering making all my chapters this short. It's easier to post, to edit, to… well, everything really, so I think it might be worth a try, if only to (hopefully) speed up updates.
Also, it's not as well edited as my usual chapters, but it should be okay.
Translations for the (made up) binary code are at the bottom. They aren't important or anything, but if you want to know, there they are. Assuming, of course, that ffnet keeps them on this time :\
Enjoy!
Zan took another pull on the plastic straw, what was left of his coke gurgling wetly from the bottom corners of the cardboard cup. He tossed it into the corner of his van – where a good-sized pile of trash had accumulated over the past week – and caught a whiff of just how badly he was beginning to smell. He winced, rolled onto his knees and tugged off his shirt, tossing it to yet another corner with the rest of his laundry.
Over the past week, he'd been too focused on his Los Cruces trip to pay any real attention to the little stuff like eating healthy, keeping things clean, and renting hotel rooms. Granted, that had just as much to do with it as the fact that when Beth had… vanished, most of her money and everything that was left of her original stuff went with her, leaving Zan with just barely enough to get by. He'd decided to save everything he could to tide him over until he could get a job and set himself up in Roswell.
Granted, that meant he probably still had at least another month of living in his van ahead of him (he'd made the papers he needed and everything already, and he'd found a nice little secluded spot in the middle of an empty oasis way the fuck out of the way, where nobody would find his van and anything else he decided to hide in there)…
But, hey. He'd lived in worse places, right?
"Not that I don't appreciate the view." Said a soft, mocking voice behind him. "But next time you might want to warn a girl, you know?"
Zan jumped up, his head hitting the ceiling with a dull thud. He fell on his ass and twisted around, eyes fixing immediately on a smirking Beth lounging against the rear doors.
"Jesus fuck, Beth." He muttered sharply. "You scared the living shit out of me."
She smiled. And then, in a move totally unlike the Beth he'd actually spent time with, her eyes scanned slowly up and down his body, that little teasing smirk never easing in the slightest. Zan blushed and instinctively reached one arm up to cover himself, and then – feeling like a girl – immediately dropped it. Her grin widened.
Grabbing a shirt and jerking it down over his head, Zan kept his face averted until he was totally sure the blush had cooled. When he finally did turn around, she was leaning against the doors, examining his dirty clothes pile. She lifted up one of his nastier shirts with the tip of her index finger and frowned with disgust.
"Please tell me you're going to clean this up soon." She said, dropping the shirt on the pile and inching away. "This van was less nasty when there were dead bodies in it."
Zan snorted drily, leaning against the backside of the front seat and pointedly ignoring the mess. "Yeah, and by the way, in case I never said it before – thanks for that."
Beth smiled, leaning against the doors across from him. For a long moment they sat like that, her in contemplative silence, Zan suffering an awkward one. Every time he saw her lately, he felt conflicted. He knew that if he'd met and lost Beth a year ago and started seeing her ghost back when he had his crew at his back, he would've been friggin pissed at himself for being weak. But now, after everything else that'd happened, he was honestly just happy she was here.
Weirdly enough, though, that almost made it worse. He should feel weak, and he should want her gone, but he didn't, and that was a constant reminder of how much he'd changed. How much he'd lost.
And he didn't just mean Beth.
"Have you thought about it?" She asked flatly, seemingly totally oblivious to his thoughts. Zan wondered about that, sometimes – if she was faking being oblivious, or if some part of him didn't want his imaginary friend to pick up on shit like that so he just… blocked her somehow. He hoped it was the latter, and that he could learn to do it on que, 'cause her knowing everything in his head had gotten old pretty damn quick.
Zan glanced at her and frowned. "About what?"
She stared at him with an expression he couldn't read. "About meeting me."
He thought about pretending that he didn't know what she was talking about – that he didn't immediately realize she was referencing her younger self, who he knew from the Journals worked and lived in some little joint called the Crashdown. But then she smiled at him and he realized there really wasn't any point in lying.
Which was friggin annoying, really.
"Yeah." He muttered. He reached one hand over toward the pile of trash and started squeezing it in his mind. He realized only too late that it was an obvious sign he was trying to distract himself; he didn't need to move his hand anymore, and he only ever did it when he needed something to mess with. He dropped his hand, but the trash kept compacting, colors swirling as the molecules contracted on each other. "So?"
Zan saw her head tilt in the corner of his eye. "Tell me what you think is going to happen."
He glared. "Why? You probably know more about what's goin' on in there than I do."
She shrugged. "Tell me anyway."
Zan stared at her for a minute, wondering if this was some kind of weird, twisted joke she was playing on him. Or he was playing on himself, actually. After a second he sighed and gave in; he knew he must really be getting paranoid when he started to suspect the voice in his head of plotting against him.
"I'm going to follow the plan." He muttered. "Heal Alex, get everything I need to get, introduce myself to the group and tell them –"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." She cut in calmly. Zan looked her way again and caught her smiling sadly. "What do you think is going to happen between you and the other me."
She said it like a statement, and Zan softly scoffed. Tell me how you feel, Zan. He mentally mocked, her voice ridiculously high-pitched. Tell me what you're thinking.
God, it's like I've got my own, imaginary shrink.
"Zan." She prompted, a hint of reprimand in her voice.
Zan shook his head, eyes falling closed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm thinking about it."
She rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. Zan took a deep breath and reached one hand up to scratch the back of his head; the pressure of his nails against his scalp helped him to stay calm.
"I guess some part of me really wants her to be just like you, y'know?" He opened his eyes. She was watching him with a contemplative expression, but she still didn't say anything. "I mean, I know she isn't going to be. You made such a big deal about how much the war and everything changed you – this chick hasn't been through any of the shit you talked about, so she's not gonna be like you. Except… well, she still is you, so I guess a part of me really wants to think I'll just show up and it'll be you standing there. It's stupid, yeah, but that's just how I feel."
He didn't realize just how much he was talking until he stopped and the silence of the van swamped back in. He groaned a little and ducked his head; he really hadn't meant to rant like that.
After a second of silence, Beth spoke. "That… doesn't really answer my question."
He looked up at her.
"That tells me what you want to happen." She clarified. "Not what you think will happen."
Zan looked at the wall of the van, one hand reaching up to fiddle with his dream-catcher. He leaned back, mood going just a little darker. "Nothing's gonna happen, Beth."
Max… if he's anything like me, he's gonna see me as a potential threat and do everything he can to keep her away from me – which is exactly what he should do." He was just going to be some strange guy showing up out of friggin' nowhere, looking shady as shit. If hanging with aliens had taught her anything, she'd either stay the hell away from him or only go near him to try and get info. And even then, if her boy Max was anything like Zan... There wasn't a chance in hell Zan would get anywhere near her without all Four of the Roswell gang standing in between them.
It was the smart reaction when somebody showed up with a convenient story and questionable motives. But that didn't stop Zan from being bitter.
Zan grinned, feeling a bit of his chilly irritation creeping in to the expression despite his best attempts to keep calm. "It's better like this for me anyway; it'll be a thousand times easier to do my job if I don't have some… straight-A, goody-two-shoes, teen-dream type following me around."
Zan glanced up, wondering if he'd offended her with that last comment, but Beth just shook her head and grinned softly.
"You're so full of shit, Zan."
His face twisted as he formed an appropriately scathing reply, but she'd already vanished again, leaving him alone in the back of his stolen van with a pile of clothes and a deceptively heavy, quarter sized ball of compact trash.
Alex was going out of his mind.
Things had changed for him when he'd gone to Sweden. He'd gotten away from Roswell and the geek image that had defined him for as long as he could remember. He'd seen beautiful places, met new people, and fallen in love. For the first time, he'd seen just how big the world really was and how many options he had for his future.
And, amazingly, he'd finally given up on Isabel Evans.
Oh, it wasn't that he didn't still think she was beautiful, or smart, or – well, just amazing in general. He did. But he'd also found out that she wasn't the only girl on the planet he could fall for, and he didn't need to spend forever pining over her like a moron when there were girls just as perfect who were more than willing to give him a chance.
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Besides which, he'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, and he'd realized –
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– that he was holding her back. Isabel was an alien princess, and she was going to go places and do things and be involved in situations he couldn't even dream of. And even though it had hurt at first, Alex had come to realize that that was okay. Just because he wasn't going to be a part of this grand, inter-planetary drama playing out in Roswell didn't mean he didn't have his own future to look forward to.
And there were so many options. He could be the front man for some huge corporation and have them pay for him to travel to exotic locations. He could get an anthropological degree and go excavate ancient burial grounds in Europe or discover some new kind of pottery in Peru. He could even get serious about his music and go on tours somewhere – anywhere that wasn't Roswell…
Alex frowned.
Since when had it been so important for him to leave Roswell?
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Alex shook his head. It was normal for teenagers to want to leave home and see the world. He didn't know why it'd seemed so strange at first, but there was nothing wrong with wanting to leave the nest, right?
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But then Isabel knocked on his window in the middle of the night, and all of a sudden Alex found himself asking her to prom. And for all of twenty minutes after, he'd had to fight this strange, sick feeling in his stomach. Then he'd reminded himself that it was a strictly platonic thing – her last chance at a prom, and he was somebody she could go with that she knew, that she cared about. She was just asking him – as a friend – to make this prom perfect for her. And he could do that.
The sick feeling had gone away then, and hadn't come back until they'd been standing on the dance floor and Isabel Evans – the girl he'd been in love with as long as he could remember – had leaned up and kissed him.
Suddenly, it was like he was being pulled around by strings that nobody but him could see. The calm, confident guy he'd become reacted smoothly, leaning in and kissing her back as if it wasn't any big deal. But it was as if he'd lost control of his body, as if something in his head was screaming and shaking and flipping out and somehow it wasn't even making his hands twitch. Internally, he was a mess, but absolutely none of it showed. He talked, and he was casual and confident, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that it/them/she/he was lying.
Isabel… nothing was going to happen between them. He'd known that on some deep level since the day he'd gone to Sweden. But something was happening. And it should've been simple, it should've been the easiest thing in the world to accept – to be happy to accept – that he'd just been wrong. That good things could happen, that a guy like him could actually get a girl like Isabel.
But…
But it couldn't happen.
It broke the rules, it called attention to the static, unmoving thing inside his mind that he couldn't ever seem to look at straight. And it hurt to look, to see that thing sitting, lying in wait. It made the itch something agonizing, something excruciating. He wanted to bash his head on the wall until the world went black, or until Isabel came and wrapped him in her arms and, somehow, made it all better.
But I'm happy. A changed man.
And even though he shouted, clawed, screamed for someone – anyone – to come and see what was happening, it was like a whole other version of himself was still in control. He looked down at Isabel, eyes fixating on the glow on her cheeks and the way kissing her made her lips swell and her smile turn pouty and sensual, and his fingers rose up and traced the curve of her cheek, and his hand was steady as stone. That seemed so strange to him, trapped inside his mind, that he could be going through so much and not show any of it.
How could this be possible? What was happening to him? How did –
I'm happy. A changed man.
Alex blinked.
I'm happy. I went to Sweden.
Alex smiled, allowing his palm to settle over her jaw, thumb sliding back and forth along her cheekbone. She smiled up at him, and for once he could read everything she was feeling on her face. Attraction. Excitement. And – a first when it came to expressions he'd seen on the resident Ice Queen – pure, genuine contentment.
It was a good look for her.
Alex's smile broadened and softened, and he leaned down to kiss –
I don't need Isabel anymore; I have Leanna.
Alex froze.
I miss Leanna. I love Leanna.
I don't need Isabel.
I don't need -
"Yes, I do." He whispered, grabbing a hold of that voice and shoving it down, down deeper than thought and doubt and instinct. Some part of him knew that wouldn't be enough – that that voice would only grow until it hit his throat and threw itself into the world. It would be back.
But not tonight.
"Alex…" wide, worried brown eyes stared up at him, and Alex blinked. Something had caught his attention, he knew, but he couldn't remember what it was anymore. He was sure it had been important. He knew it was something, something he needed to be worried about –
"Are you okay?"
She cocked her head to the side, and some golden curls slipped down and caught on the curve of her shoulder. Alex's eyes caught on that and followed it back up to her face – the face that, in his more dramatic moments, he'd compared to that of an angel.
Alex smiled and let his body relax.
Whatever it was, it didn't matter.
"I'm perfect," he said with a grin, and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Maybe he'd loved Leanna, and maybe he hadn't. To be honest, he couldn't really remember.
But this… this moment, this girl…
This was what he'd been waiting for since the first time he'd ever seen her.
And right now, there was nothing more important to him than to be here, holding her.
Quietly, the first of many stitches holding the shattered remnants of his mind together popped open. Alex, wrapped up in the heart-pounding experience of finally kissing the woman he'd loved as long as he could remember – Alex, who was sheltered by the lies his world was built on, didn't notice the added strain.
Just as he hadn't noticed the scars from where it'd happened before.
At some point, some of Isabel's old friends wandered up to start a conversation. Alex took advantage of the awkwardness of it all to give Isabel a quick kiss and a be-right-back before he headed towards the bathrooms.
He left the gyms and meandered into the restroom just across the hall. Some guy Alex vaguely recognized from History pushed past him as he came in, rubbing wet hands on his tux pants, but a quick glance told him there was nobody else in the room.
Perfect.
Still wearing his tux, Alex turned his head up to the ceiling and grinned.
"I kissed Isabel Evans." Alex muttered fervently. It unleashed an embarrassingly unmanly wave of giddiness, and before he could talk himself out of it he spun on his heel and pulled a couple of his best dance moves. When he'd finished, he spun in a sharp circle, threw both arms out to the sides, and then bowed to his own reflection. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm amazing."
The teen made his way toward the sinks and flipped on the faucet. He turned it all the way to cold and splashed some on his face to cool off. As he was blinking the frigid water out of his eyes, he heard the door swing open. He glanced over and smiled.
"Oh, hey, Max." He greeted, then frowned. His vision was still blurry, but he could see enough to know the colors were all wrong. "Did you change or w-"
He blinked, and the image cleared.
… That's not Max.
The panic hit then (Skins, shapeshifters, jeeze, gonna die a virgin) and he took a few steps backward and grinned. Play along, play along; pretend you haven't noticed. "Uh, you know – I like that jacket better. You know, with the leather and the… the buttons. Very hip. Um. I have to go – told Isabel I'd be back, you know, places to be –"
"Believe it or not, dude," the guy muttered roughly, his New York accent doing little to hide the familiarity of his voice. Unfortunately, Alex wasn't exactly in the right mental state to point a finger at where, exactly, he'd heard that accent before. "I'm here to help you."
His experiences with mysterious New Yorkers having been pretty much all negative, Alex snorted, then tried to cover it up with a nod and shaky smile. "Yeah, yeah – of course. Duh. Why wouldn't you be, right? I'm just going to go this way and –".
The guy muttered something in a disgusted tone and, with a soft flash of light, Alex felt something snap his arm and legs in place at his sides.
At that point, Alex started feeling genuinely terrified.
The guy walked toward Alex and wrapped a gentle hand around his forehead. Alex blinked and muttered something vaguely hysterical about getting his temperature checked in this situation, but the mumble didn't make it passed the hand.
"Sorry, dude, but this is probably gonna hurt."
The hand on his forehead gave off a sudden wave of heat, and then his mind imploded.
Sliding down those bowling lanes in her socks, Liz had the strangest feeling of déjà-vu. She'd been having that feeling a lot lately, actually, and over the stupidest things. When she'd invited Max to the prom, when Sean had kissed her…
When Max had kissed Tess.
Liz shook her head, pushing that memory aside. Not that she really could, though – that image was seared into her retinas in the way only looking at the sun or seeing your parents in awkward situations could do. It was just so wrong, so… so not what should've happened.
He said he loved me. That he didn't care about Tess.
Only, he'd said that before Future-Max had landed on her balcony and helped her sabotage their relationship. And judging by that… by what she'd seen the two of them doing, his feelings on the subject had obviously changed.
Of course, it wasn't like she hadn't known they were going to get together. Future-Max had told her as much when he'd been describing why the future had gone to hell. But the actual words he'd used were that him and Liz being "close" had chased Tess off, and that she needed to help him fall out of love with her in order to keep the Royal Four whole. He'd never actually said, word for word, that he and Tess would be… would be…
Liz shook her head and took another run towards the bowling pins, letting her anger fuel her feet and bleed off into the waxed wood. It was weird how light she felt, gliding along on her socks – just like Sean had told her she would. It was almost like dancing, or even a little like flying, maybe. Like she could just take off and go on forever.
It was stupid, but some part of her had actually believed that some day, she and Max would get back together. That Max had been right when he'd said they would chose their own destinies.
But he wasn't right.
He really is going to end up with Tess, isn't he?
Liz blinked away the building tears and suddenly lost her footing. She fell on her butt with a harmless little thud. Anywhere else, that would've been the end of it, but the wax on the lane and her own momentum kept her sliding, spinning down the alley on her bottom.
She caught one glance at Sean's muffled grin as she spun in another circle and she burst in to laughter. God, I should've done this years ago. This is so fun.
More fun than she'd had in months, actually.
Liz laughed so hard she fell over backwards, finally coming to a stop near the end of the lane. Sean's grinning face popped into view, and Liz smiled, forgetting dark thoughts as he grabbed her arms and dragged her backwards on the bowling lane. She shrieked with shocked laughter and barely swallowed back a half-hearted protest about her dress.
Screw the dress. She was never wearing it again anyways.
After a while, she broke away from Sean for a moment to go buy a pepsi from the vending machine. In the almost-quiet as she sorted through some quarters, Alex's face floated in to her head. Liz blinked and frowned, then shoved the odd worry aside. Alex was fine, obviously. He was at prom with Isabel, finally getting a shot at having a romantic relationship with the blonde beauty.
What could possibly be wrong?
AN: Okay, so. In the past, I've worded things dramatically, and some of you guys have assumed I meant people were dying. That's almost never the case - I don't like killing off characters because you can almost always find a way to use them to make things more complicated. I will do it, but I really, really try not to.
Having said that, I'd like to point out that Alex is NOT DEAD. The whole 'mind imploding' thing is a metaphor, used to describe the fact that the structures Tess has used to control him are all collapsing. Also, in case I use these again, Zan is a 'twice dead king' cause he's died twice, original characters are not Skins unless I actually call them Skins, and people who get their heads bashed do not necessarily die. They may, but sometimes they're just unconscious, and I'll try to specify from here on out when I mean one and when I mean the other.
Hope that helps. (:
(1) NO.
(2) ITSNOTTRUE.
(3) TESSDIDTHIS.
(4) LIES.
Review!
