Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, but to the writers and producers of Roswell
Spoilers: After Chant Down Babylon, changes happening where Max is successfully rescued,
and Michael was the one who broke up with Maria.
Loving Destiny Chapter Twenty One
***
Love is a haunting melody
That I have never mastered
And I fear I never will.
- William S. Burroughs
***
Max sat in the dark empty space, which filled his waking senses at every hour. What held him up or what he was supported by, he didn't know. He felt like he'd slept and awakened in this darkness for days. Devoid of light, colors, images; Max felt like he'd fallen into a deep abyss.
He longed for someone to talk to. At first he'd talked to himself out loud, anything, to keep him from going mad. But it had gotten to the point of despair.
Liz. Images of her large round brown eyes stared at him in the blackness. He could hear her voice calling him. If only he could get back to her.
Suddenly a white ghostly image appeared before Max. In the beginning he thought it was Tess, for the curvaceous figure had long flowing blonde hair and a fair face. But this figure was older at a second glance and had an heir of regal-ness about her. It wasn't Tess, though her face remained familiar.
"Zan," she called.
His heart jumped. Was this a dream, something he'd conjured from his imagination? Max found himself unable to speak now when he'd so longed for company a few minutes earlier.
"Zan," she called again, but more firmly.
Max cleared his throat and stood up in the formless night. "Maxwell," he corrected.
The woman laughed. "Yes, I suppose that you are called that now," she replied dryly. "Well Maxwell, do you know why you are here?"
Max shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing eyes of the pale figure. "I have an idea," he cautiously answered the stranger. "But I still don't know who you are?"
"You recognize my face don't you Zan? After all, I did take care of you as a child. I loved you like a son," she whispered.
Her answer brought a frown to Max's face. "You did?" The reply was more of a question than an acknowledgement. This woman, who stood before him now, had raised him up as a child, and this had somewhat of a reality, within his past.
"You seem to be having a hard time remembering Maxwell," the figure held out her pale arms toward him.
"Well it's difficult with people popping in all the time trying to dissect you or kill you," Max said sarcastically. Max paused a moment and stepped back from the figure, who seemed to close the distance, which he'd kept between them. "Why does it even matter?" he asked wearily.
Max was shaking. He felt tired all of the sudden. His body seemed to grow thin and he felt like he'd fade away. Then just as suddenly as it had come upon him, Max felt fine.
The woman stepped forward. "You must remember Maxwell, your people need you. They need their king."
"Well at the moment I'm just a little occupied," Max retorted, pointing to his surroundings, or lack there of.
The woman's face hardened. "Well you wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't chosen your human counterpart," she spat out suddenly. Immediately her face softened and her eyes were filled with remorse.
Max was taken aback. He frowned and shook his head in disbelief. "Like you have any right to say anything about my choices and definitely any right to even speak about Liz," he growled. "You know what? I don't need to listen to your lectures or any of these guilt trips."
He didn't care anymore. Max was fed up. He'd had it up to his neck with the 'duty' and 'responsibility' logic, or excuse depending on how he looked at it. "No one told me I was a king. In fact no one even bothered to show up and explain to Michael, Isabel or me what and who we were and are!" Max yelled with abandon, letting all the frustration and anger from being locked away in some sort of spooky dimension he'd probably seen in an episode of The Twilight Zone. He'd allowed himself this as he stood in the never-ending corridors of nothingness.
The willowing figure seemed to sway to an invisible breeze. Her face softened at his child-like rudeness. Immediately Maxwell felt remorse at his words. "Look, I'm sorry. But I don't know you and people seem to show up on a whim here and I have no control at all."
The woman smiled sympathetically. "You have a lot more control and power over this situation than you know Max. The time is coming when you'll remember your life and your people."
Maxwell sighed. "Sure I do." Running his hand through his hair, Max looked skeptically at the stranger. "I mean when you sit around here in the dark long enough, you can imagine anything – even a beautiful woman telling me not to give up."
The woman reached out her slender fingers and touched his brow. "You're not imagining me Maxwell," she chuckled. "You know me as Andaria."
His brow creased at the name. It did sound familiar. But no memories returned. "Andaria," he whispered to himself.
"Yes, Andaria," she repeated softly after him.
Max looked up at the woman before him and smirked sadly. "Doesn't exactly ring any bells." Max sat down and propped himself up with his hands.
Andaria kneeled down on one knee. "You will remember Max." Once more, Andaria caressed his temple, but lingering slightly. He felt a warmth fill his mind, like a salve over a wound. "It seems like this situation will give you just the right amount of time to remember," she replied knowingly.
With that, Andaria gracefully rose from the ground, which couldn't be seen and the same invisible breeze, which swirled around her before, lifted the long pale tendrils off her fair complexion. She smiled ever so tenderly at him before disappearing before him, and he was again left in darkness to ponder what had just happened.
***
Michael paced within the confined room. Staying in the bright white room with Max's body lying in the middle of the floor was not exactly his idea of fun. "So what are you trying to do to me, huh Max?" Michael huffed at his former leader and king. "You are going too far to prove a point!"
He'd done everything except make a pact with the devil, listing every possible way to cure his best friend. Maxwell had better get his butt off the floor because Michael wasn't about to watch him lying at death's door another day. Tess needed to show up pronto. Michael had images of dragging her to Earth by her platinum blonde locks.
Maybe he'd been wrong about Tess. Michael hadn't exactly had any contact with the liar and traitor, maybe it had been a stall tactic so that when they finally did realize she was lying it would be too late to find any other help. He shook his head; he couldn't start thinking that way, though his thoughts continued to drift to the unthinkable scenarios.
Michael began pacing again. When did Isabel plan on showing up? He looked at his watch. Michael then had a nauseous thought. She was probably with Jesse in bed. Where else would she be?
He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image from his mind. Michael clenched his first and slammed it against the wall. Too many things are happening at once and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
***
Isabel slipped into the cave under the setting sun. She felt harried after her argument with Jesse, which proceeded with her need to lie again to her parents about her destination.
"Again? Why don't you let your father figure this out? He'll find Max," Mrs. Evans fretted over Isabel.
"I'm sorry Mom," Isabel apologized. "But I can't just sit here and wait."
"Oh, but what about Jesse?" Mrs. Evans reminded her.
Isabel had felt the blood rush to her face. She'd forgotten about Jesse. Isabel had always just had to lie about her own whereabouts, but now she had to explain the growing rift between her and Jesse. "Uh, I…" Isabel stammered, trying to think of a plausible reason.
But there wasn't a need. Jesse came to her rescue. "Um, Mom, I told her it was all right," he lied. He threw Isabel a withering glare. "I still have a lot of paperwork to do."
Isabel had left giving Jesse a grateful smile and a kiss. When everything at home seemed to be unraveling she entered the Granolith chamber and Isabel found Michael pacing back and forth, mumbling to himself. She watched as he seemed deep in thought and also upset.
"Michael," she whispered as he slammed his fist against the wall.
Isabel hadn't realized what a toll Max's condition had on Michael. She hated watching his strong face creased with worry lines. As she walked into the chamber, Isabel let go of her preoccupation with her problems and concentrated on Michael and the best way to help him deal with the stress of the situation.
The hard soles of her heels clicked on the hard rock floor, announcing her presence. "Michael, are you okay?" Isabel asked worriedly.
Michael's head cocked at the sound of her voice and his body seem to tense at her presence. He knew she was standing behind him, yet he didn't turn around to face her. He spoke with his back to her. "Did you have problems getting away from Jesse?" Michael asked ignoring her anxiety. "I wasn't sure if you if you could make it or not."
Isabel was thrown off by his acerbic tone. "What is it? Michael, what is wrong?" she asked apprehensively.
Michael finally turned around to face her. There was a look of regret in his eyes. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."
Isabel's body relaxed at his weary apology. "Michael he's going to be all right," she reassured. It was strange, just a week ago it was Michael who had been calming her down.
Michael looked at her hesitantly. "Isabel we're relying on Tess…"
Isabel was surprised at the words of doubt leaving Michael's lips. "What are you talking about?" She was completely confused. First he'd started in about Jesse and now he was voicing some doubt about Tess. The look on his face was one of fatigue and exhaustion. It was like he was too tired to put up the tough front that he'd worn from the very first day she'd met him.
"It was your idea Michael and you were completely sure about it!" Isabel frowned.
A spark seemed to flicker underneath his dark brooding eyes. Michael stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and turned his back to her again. "Well since when does anyone listen to me?" he retorted.
Isabel frowned at the way he was behaving this late afternoon. As she stalked over to the dirty blonde student, Isabel turned Michael around until he was facing her. "What has gotten into you?" she exclaimed. This time she wouldn't allow him to change the subject.
Staring into his eyes Isabel searched for some answers to the turbulent emotional roller coaster Michael was on. She reached out to comfort him, but was rebuffed. Isabel was at an impasse. What could she do? Michael wouldn't allow her to be there for him.
"I think I need to get some air," he mumbled as he walked out of the Granolith chamber.
Isabel's heart sunk as she watched him walk away. He was a part of her and when he was in pain and hurting she was also. She turned to Max who remained quiet and unconscious. Kneeling beside her brother, Isabel whispered her unanswerable question. "What am I going to do?"
Isabel stroked Max's brow. She stifled the tears that had begun to form in the corners of her eyes, letting out a desperate sob. She needed Max now more than ever.
"Please wake up Max? Everything's gone to hell since you've been sick. Could you please…just," Isabel sighed, at a loss for words.
As she broke into tears, Isabel felt two strong hands squeeze her shoulders. Isabel turned around to find Michael kneeling behind her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, as she leaned into his chest. "We'll get through this. I promise."
***
Liz placed two plates on the counter. "Here's your burger," she announced as she sat down beside Kyle.
"Don't you have to work?" Kyle whispered, glancing worriedly at Liz's father. "I don't want to get you in trouble again."
She shook her head. "Uh- uh. My dad only wanted me to work this morning to show the new girls where everything is. He just hired them Monday," Liz explained, motioning to the blonde and brunette that were busily taking orders.
Kyle nodded in approval. "Great. Do they have boyfriends?" he asked inquisitively.
Liz rolled her eyes and flipped her shoulder length hair over her shoulder as she began to pick at her salad. "So," she smiled, ignoring Kyle's question. "What's new?"
Liz didn't quite know how to talk with Kyle anymore. She'd been swept up in Max and their plans for college and maybe even marriage that Liz almost forgot that there were other people in their lives. Liz had been in a wonderful bubble world, which had recently burst.
Suddenly she found Kyle waving his hand in her face. "Hello?"
Liz smiled briefly, embarrassed at her rudeness. "I'm sorry Kyle. I didn't mean to zone out on you like that."
Kyle raised his eyebrows skeptically and the corners of his mouth drooped. He tried to shrug it off, but Liz knew that she hadn't been around lately for him or Maria. "Really. Kyle, I mean it. I'm sorry I've been so occupied in my stuff," she apologized again.
Kyle smirked. "How hard was that to get out?" he joked.
Liz shook her head and looked at him seriously. "Kyle, don't let me get off so easily."
"I'm not," he protested taking a bite out of the greasy French fry in his hand. "Hey, you've had some rough times. Am I supposed to blame you for being so self-involved? C'mon! Get real. My life has been peaches and cream compared to what's been happening with you and Max. I mean I can't complain!"
Liz smiled softly. She appreciated his understanding. Kyle really did get it. She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder. "Thanks."
Kyle shrugged. "No problem. Hey are you going to eat that tomato?"