Wow it's been awhile. Anyhow, here's the new chapter. Some of the French words in this are supposed to have accents, but my keyboard won't type those, so sorry. Also, the italics are thoughts. I got blocked during this chapter quite often, which is why it's taken me so long to finish, but I hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy and please review.

Chapter Eleven

Paris Quand Il Grésille

Paris When It Sizzles

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Paris is amazing, I think as I sit on a half-wall in the gardens adjacent to the Louvre. It's not just the famous sites and beautiful old architecture that you see everywhere you go. It's this feeling I get as I walk around the city. There's this vibe here in the air that makes me buzz with excitement and makes me feel like I can do anything, like anything is possible.

Here, I feel free.

It's like a burden has fallen off my shoulders. Here, there are no alien threats, no violent ex-boyfriends or the awkwardness of faded friendships. Here, I'm not Liz Parker: bookworm, perfect daughter and friend. No one here expects me to be anytthing but who I choose to be, I'm not held back by my past. Here, there is the possibility of truly making a fresh start and that feels incredibly liberating. And honestly, I am reluctant to let go of that freedom, though I fear that once I return home I'll automatically fall back into the role my parents and my friends expect me to play.

I'm not saying that I'm unhappy in Roswell, because I'm not. And I'm not saying that my friends are forcing me to be someone I'm not. Things are going okay now; I'm doing okay now, but the aftermath of Alex' death has changed my goals and myself and my belief systerm more than I ever could've imagined.

I'm afraid that if I show them just how much I've changed, show them all of me, they'll turn away from me. It's a fear that just won't leave me alone, however irrantional it may be, since Michael, Kyle, Isabel and I are now so much closer than before, but the memory of all of them abandoning me after Alex' death keeps lingering in my mind, reminding me that my fears aren't completely unfounded.

I smile as Justine, my guide and roommate, walks towards me with two steaming cups in her hands. The chilly winter breeze blowing her long red hair in her face.

"Cafe creme, no sugar, non?" She asks me before handing me my cup when I nod affirmitively and sitting down beside me.

"Mmmh, warmth." I sigh as the heat of the coffee seeps into my slightly shaking hands.

Though cold, it is beautiful out here. Snow covers the garden and the arc through which you enter it from the museum, which itself is also covered in snow. It looks a little like a scene from a fairytale or the final part of a romantic comedy, where the characters finally admit there love for each other. I don't know why, but suddenly I feel a bit lonely.

"Are you alright, ma chere? You are very quiet today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." I say as I look back at the scenery. Between all my classes and exploring the city I haven't really had the time to sleep off my jetlag yet.

"Do you want to go back?"

"What? No! We haven't been to the Notre Dame yet and I want to see the Eiffel Tower all lit up tonight."

Justine makes a dissaproving face at my last request.

"You don't like the light show?" I ask as I take a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee.

I laugh as Justine sticks up her nose and indignantly says, "La Tour Eiffel is a national landmark, not a carnival ride."

"Still, it's pretty." I nudge.

"Fine." She says with a dramatic sigh as she puts the hair that's blown in her face again back behind her ear. "As long as you come with me to Cafe Broulant after so you can meet my Pierre."

"Promise."

--

Cafe Broulant is a dark and somewhat dingy bar in Montmartre that is popular with the students here in Paris. The minute we enter Justine runs off to try and find Pierre, her boyfriend. I sit down at the bar and order when the bartender passes me, ignoring the leer he gives me.

"Un verre de vin, s' il vous plait."

Maybe a glass of wine will help me sleep better tonight. Aside from an occasional sip from my mother's glass, I've never really drank alcohol before. I've never really felt the need to, a coke is just as tasty, but for the French it's such a part of life that I've become used to the occasional glass.

Though I've learned not to drink more than two glasses a night, since Justine doesn't really know her limit and on almost every occasion that we've gone out I ended up holding er up as we waited for the subway.

I'm halfway through my glass when Justine finds her way back to me on the arm of a handsome dark curly haired man.

"Lizzie, this is Pierre."

"Hi." I say as I hold out my hand to shake his. "Nice to meet you. Justine won't shut up about you."

Pierre smiles as he takes my hand. "Likewise, on both counts."

The three of us fall into easy conversation while Justine orders us one more round of drinks. I start to decline, my first glass already hitting me harder than usual, my head feels fuzzy and aches at the same time, but Justine won't have any of it. I decide to just finish this glass and go back to my dorm after, I've got an early class tomorrow.

Halfway through our drinks the conversation stilts. Justine's a bit too busy hanging on Pierre to really notice anything but him and I'm just too tired right now to keep a guy I barely know talking.

"I wish she would just leave so we can go."

I look up from my glass in shock, not quite believing that Pierre would actualy say that out loud (though I had been thinking the same thing about them), though from his blank expression as I look up at him he doesn't seem to have noticed that I heard him. Which isn't that strange, his voice was really soft and we're in a crowded bar, he probably just whispered it to Justine.

"You know what, guys?" I say as I plaster on a fake smile. "I'm really tired. I think I'm going to head home soon." I can practically see the relief on their faces.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch, oui?" Justine asks as Pierre already escorts her off outside.

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow." I say as I watch them leave.

With a relieved sigh I turn back to my half-full glass of wine, deciding to finish it before I leave since I need the same train as Justine and Pierre and I have no desire to try and ignore them making out the entire way home.

I rub at my eyes when my brain starts to feel fuzzy again, no not fuzzy, pressured, like someone's pushing at it from the outside. It's a strange feeling, one that I don't particularly like, since it's probably announcing an oncoming migraine, but I try to ignore it as I look around the bar.

"She's kind of hot. I wonder If she'll go home with me."

I turn to the sound of the voice, which I recognised as the bartender's, to find him leering at me again. But before I can say that hell will freeze over before I'd ever go anywhere with the likes of him, I hear something else, someone else.

"I can't believe I failed my mid-term, my dad'll kill me."

I turn around looking for the source, absently noting that my headache's increasing. No one is looking at me and no one is close enough to me to for me to hear them so clearly in a loud crowded bar. I see a boy about my age sitting in the corner somewhere, his head bent sadly over his beer, five more empty glasses next to him. Poor guy, I think, maybe he has girlfriend issues.

I've barely looked at him for two seconds when other voices that I can't identify start intruding in my thoughts. Where are these people coming from? My head hurts.

"I wonder how many drinks I'll have to give her before she decides to give it up." I look in distaste as a preppy students feeds an intoxicated co-ed another shot.

A horrifying realization comes to me as I start to hear more voices, so many that they're getting muddled. Nobody is close enough to me for me to hear them speaking and almost everyone is too busy talking with someone else.

They're not talking to me, they're in my head.

Actually, I think I'm in theirs.

I grab my head as the pressure increases even more, followed by painful stings and so many voices.

"I love him, why can't he love me?"

"Do I look fat in this dress?"

"I miss my mom."

"Is he going to propose tonight?"

"Why does she get all the attention and I get nothing?"

"Dad's got to stop drinking."

"I can't believe England won the game."

"Please God, let her say yes."

I get up and grab my purse, I have to get out here, The voices are too much, i can't shut them out and it hurts.

"IlovehimwhycanthelovemeDoIlookfatinthisdressImissmymomIshegoingtoproposetonightWhydoesshegetalltheattentionandIgetnothingDadsgottostopdrinkingIcantbelieveEnglandwonthegamePleaseGodlethersayyes"

The pain and pressure in my head dies down a little as soon as I step foot outside. I let out a sigh of relief, only to wince again in pain when some guy passes me on the street, bumping into me in his hurry.

I decided to avoid the subway, the thought of being trapped underground in a train with no way out and hundreds of people in my head a little too claustrophobic at the moment.

The closer I get to my dorm the worse the pressure gets again. It's sunday night and it's already on the late side, which means that most students are already inside either sleeping or studying. I brace myself and open the door, immediately I'm assaulted by voices again, the pain in my head reaching fever pitch. I tell myself to just get to my room as soon as I can and down some of the heavy duty sleeping pills I was prescribed after Alex died.

I storm into my bathroom, yanking open the cabinet and taking out the little orange bottle, my vision is going blurry and I feel as though the room is spinning. There are so many of them, all screaming in my mind. It has to stop. Please God, make it stop! It hurts.

I swallow three pills instead of the prescribed two without any water and stumble over to my bed. I'm seeing black spots now. I don't even bother changing into my pyjamas, just dropping myself down on the duvet fully clothed, shoving the pillow over my head, trying to drown out everything.

"The law of Archimedes is that the upward force is equal to the weight of the amount of fluid moved."

"Why hasn't he called?"

"If x equals c and y equals…"

"The dark room of Damocles was one of the first Dutch novels to not glorify the actions of the resistance during World War Two."

Slowly but surely the voices are losing their volume as the sleeping pills start doing their job, stealing me away into oblivion,

When I wake up the following morning, there's nothing in my head but blissful silence.

--

I skipped classes today and canceled my lunch with Justine. I'm still too freaked out about what happened yesterday to focus on anything else. So I wandered around the city aimlessly for most of the morning, finally resting my aching feet in a little bistro next to the Notre Dame.

For the last ten minutes I've been struggling with whether I should call Michael or not. I'm positive that my sudden psychic abilities are alien related, Ava did say I was changed after all, though I never expected this.

My most extreme thoughts after hearing Ava say this were that I would maybe develop one of the hybrids powers, probably Max' since he healed me. That thought never really scared me very much. But this, this power? It has me completely terrified, especially since I don't know where it came from or what triggers it. At first I thought it may have been the alcohol, my head did start to hurt more after my second glass. Yet it didn't happen before and I've drunk a glass of wine before yesterday.

I want to call Michael and I know I should, but I decide not to. He'll freak out and will probably get so worried that he'll hop on the first plane to Paris to come and get me. I'm only here for three more days anyway, I'll just make sure not to drink any alcohol in that time, just to be safe, and hope it doesn't happen again.

--

It did happen again, twice yesterday and once on the plane today. Luckily it wasn't as severe as it had been that sunday. It gave me a migraine, the constant buzz of thoughts in my head, indistinguishable voices all muttering at the same time.

I don't like the feeling, the fact that I can't control it makes me feel like I'm not the boss of my own mind anymore. I feel naked and exposed, which is weird since I am the one who gets a sneak peak into a person's most inner thoughts. But still, the thought that this could happen any day at any time has me worried. What if I'm at school or working, or worse still, what if I'm driving?

Paris had gone from a lovely escape of reality to an opressive place where danger lurked everywhere in my frazzled state of mind. Where I dreaded going home a week ago, now I'm looking forward to it. At least then Michael, Isabel, Kyle and I can start figuring out what's wrong with me.

I smile as I see two very familiar teenage boys waiting for me at the terminal. I drop my bags and throw my arms around both their necks, making our heads bump against each other a little.

Suddenly it feels like a weight has been lifted off of shoulders, I'm safe. I'm home.

Somehow I know everything is going to be alright.

I hope you liked this latest chapter, I'm unsure when the next one will be up, since I'm a bit busy with college applications at the moment, but I'll try to update faster than last time :P