~*~
Chapter Three
~*~
November 3rd –
I'm Liz Parker, one with lost heart. I've always been true to it, through thick and thin.
I've always believed that when it comes to matters of the heart, you should always follow it. My Grandma Claudia taught me that, and I've always trusted in her judgment. Somehow that one journey, one I was so true to with Max, has me lost in a sea of responsibilities. No. Duties. It's my duty to make sure Max finds his way to Tess, or at least makes an effort to make her feel welcome to the group.
I fulfilled that duty, not so long ago, and now I find myself picking up the pieces of a broken heart—Maria's. It's ironic that I gave up my future of love and peacefulness for one that is uncertain, and left me to see the world. Alone. While Max is still trying to cope with my compromising position with Kyle, Maria is still on the bend from Michael. With all the new alien problems, I have little to no time to let myself heal—or feel, for that matter.
I used to be filled with possibilities. Goals. Now they're lost in the wind, as I run down the path with no destination set. There had been hope, that while Max and I were going through a hard time, we'd end up together.
That's how love works. It warms your heart; it makes you feel things that scientifically aren't possible. My love for science, it seems, has turned towards Max. Through finding out his secret, I've let that part of myself go. Maybe through this fog, I'm supposed to find something of myself. Something I left not too long ago. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a resolution in all this to make the pain more bearable.
I can say that to myself, but it wouldn't be true to my heart. But then again, have I listened to my heart at all these past months? I could say no, but that would be a lie. My heart, though straining, told me to push Max away. Save lives. Do the right thing.
I always do, after all, don't I?
~*~
Liz sighed, closing her journal in resignation. She noticed the mournful tone in her writing, usually instead filled with hope and ideas. She couldn't help but feel depressed, as everything she was so certain of that past year had been shattered. And she'd been the one to do it.
She sighed, avoiding looking at the stars that adorned her balcony from above. They were a bitter memory of other nights, where she'd finish a journal entry, and then spend the rest of her evening wondering where in those stars Max's home planet lay. She was about to get up when she heard a scraping noise coming from the ladder, as if someone was coming up. She steeled herself, preparing for the inevitable visit from Max.
Though she'd told him more than once that she'd slept with Kyle, she had a feeling he was still hanging onto hope. Though it killed her to hurt him anymore, she knew she had to be firmer this time. Strong.
His head finally bobbed up, and a minute later he was bringing himself over her balcony. She placed her journal behind her, not sure why but feeling safer in the knowledge that he hadn't seen it. She remembered that one terrifying week when she'd lost it, or at least she thought she had. A wry smile almost came to her face when she remembered how Michael had stolen it. 'To see if he could trust her,' she recalled.
Though she normally would have been angry, his words had touched her and rung true. It had been an awfully big secret to carry, and she knew if she were in Michael's place she would have probably done the same. She watched Max stand before her, as if fumbling for words. She decided to start what she knew would be an awkward and hard conversation to get through.
"Max? What are you doing here?"
He ran his hand through his hair, a sign that he was puzzled. Liz waited, patient. "I had to talk to someone," he admitted. "I didn't know where to go yet I found myself here." He stopped, as if uncertain that this was now a good idea.
Liz sucked in a breath; certain this had something to do with the meeting tonight. Maybe he would thank her for sticking up for him, or maybe he was deciding to go against his decision. Whatever it was, Liz had a feeling it didn't have to do with their relationship. Or lack thereof one, as of recent events.
"Okay. So talk." Liz tried to be casual, but by Max's expression, she knew she had sounded a bit less than enthusiastic. It wasn't that she didn't want to converse with Max, she was just afraid if she did she would either lose herself in him, or he would end up taking another blow. What decision she would ultimately make she was certain of, but playing with the idea still didn't hurt. Until now at least.
He moved towards her, hesitating and finally sitting on the edge of her lawn chair, his body facing towards the wall. Liz was thankful he wasn't facing her when he talked, as his eyes looked far more intense tonight than they had in weeks. "These past few days, Liz, I haven't been me."
He finally twisted his body around, as if to see her reaction. In his eyes, she saw a bit of hope still residing there. She almost winced, for she'd hoped that was long ago. In a way, it was weird to still love Max. Because though she still loved him, she wasn't sure she wanted him to love her. She bit her lip, assessing the situation, pondering what to say, and was confused.
He hadn't been himself? Sure, she'd been obviously irritated by his sudden frequent appearances with Tess, but that hadn't been unlike Max. She'd understood that he would most likely turn to Tess in the afterthought of her wrecking their perfect relationship. Perfect wasn't exactly the way to explain it anymore. Dysfunctional was more like it.
"I'm not following," she finally responded, and Max sighed openly and threw her for a loop as he scooted closer to her on the lawn chair and took her hand in his. Though her first instinct was to remove it, she let it remain for at least that moment. When Liz had felt him grab her hand, she'd expected a spark. Something to say their connection was still there through all the alien ventures. What had surprised her, then, was that she'd felt nothing. Connection—severed.
"The person you've been seeing all day, Liz, it hasn't been me," Max explained, trying to catch her eye. "It was Zan."
Liz finally let out a breath, right in her assessment that something had been wrong about the three duplicates. They'd said Zan was dead, but if he'd been roaming around Roswell—very convincingly—it was obvious they were up to something. "They said he was dead, Max."
Max shook his head, discarding her claim. "From what I've been told, they tried to kill him back in New York," Max told her, again raking his hand through his hair. "Anything I do or say to you Liz, I just wanted you to know. It isn't me."
Liz finally caught the breeze of the conversation. Though he'd needed to talk, Liz figured he was worried Zan might have offended her in some way. Which, of course, was something Max would never do because his hope was still evident in his eyes. Max continued on, seeing her faltering gaze.
"I know that after what happened, you might be a little cautious of the group." He paused, and then, "I just need you to help Zan out, Liz, and not say anything you'll regret."
Liz found herself getting uncomfortable in the situation, and for once, uncomfortable with Max and his ideas about what she would say or do to the group because of their predicament with one another. "Max, what the hell do you think I'm going to say?" she knew it'd been harsh, but her days of patience seemed well over ever since Future Max had stepped on her balcony.
She saw his shock at her truth and outburst, and he slipped his hand away from hers. Liz, angry, had forgotten they'd even been touching. "Liz..."
"No, Max, please don't," Liz took a breath, finding it hard to calm down, "I can understand you filling me in about Zan, but your out of line when it comes to my place in the group," she stopped, seeing his gaze pause. Though she'd always viewed herself as kind, she went in for the kill, though she tried to sound nice throughout it. "You, of all people, should know that nothing, not even Kyle and I sleeping together, would change my view of things. Max, I'm the one that slept with Kyle. Not you."
She saw him shudder, almost, as she yet again admitted to sleeping with Kyle. The first few times she'd felt sorry for him, even for herself, for the situation she'd forced them in. Now she was just tired, tired of proving herself to Max and trying to fix his mold. Though her words to him that one night in his room were forced, Liz had to admit all words had some truth. In a way, Max did hold her on a pedestal.
She'd fallen from grace, and Max had yet to accept that. "I'm sorry, Liz." Max finally spoke, his voice hoarse. Liz's mood softened, knowing she had given him another blow to the heart.
"Can you please leave, Max?" she asked politely, trying to end the awkward situation they'd placed themselves in. No. Max had placed them in it. She'd just merely been dragged along for the castrating ride.
"I'll leave." He said. "But I still love you." He got up, walking away without another word. Liz's heart lurched, and she gulped, as if to stall her tears.
"Please don't say that, Max. I just—I can't love you back ever again. I can't return what you have to give—I," Liz paused, "I'm sorry." She saw his shoulders slump, in defeat, and she watched him avert his gaze to the ground as he made his way back down the ladder. Carefully avoiding her presence, and Liz was grateful for that.
Had he seen her, he would have seen the tears streaming down her face. Liz composed herself, finally, and slipped her journal into its hiding place. When the brick was secure, she made her way through her window, locking it shut.
~*~
Michael walked through the alley to the back door of the Crashdown. He opened the door, glad for its silence. Maria had been outside his door, prolonging his journey to his bike, and eventually making him late for work. He walked towards his locker to change his shirt, but stopped mid-way when he saw Liz perched on the couch, her head hanging in mute silence.
Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn't witnessed her obvious distress, but another part of him was curious what had her guard down.
Though he and Liz didn't have a lot in common, there was one thing he and she shared. They always kept appearances up, however they may cover what mood they were really in. Michael, usually angry, knew it was to cover whatever he'd been raking over in his mind. Usually it was his persisting dilemma with Maria, Max's constant eye on him, or his doubts over the way his life had turned out.
With Liz, she always tried to appear happy and unaffected by the events of an alien life. Michael knew the feeling all too well. It was called being numb. He just hadn't realized he and Liz were in the same damned boat till yesterday, when she'd showed such fire in her eyes. She'd tipped that boat yesterday, and had caught Michael off guard in the process. He finally cleared his throat, making his presence known and leaving her the decision on how far she wanted to let him see how obviously broken she was.
She lifted her head, and he almost sucked in a breath. Her eyes were puffy, probably from deprivation of sleep and crying. Her lips were chapped, an indication she'd been biting it frequently. But most of all, Michael noticed the look in her eyes. It was one of defeat. "You okay?"
He wasn't surprised when her mouth opened and she laughed, though it came out strangled and more like a cry. "I'm fine." She got up, brushing the tears that remained on her face. Michael looked down, unsure of what to say in these situations, though he knew perfectly well it had to do with Max. All of her tears had to do with Max. It came with the alien package, it seemed.
"Max?" he simply asked, and she nodded. She moved past him, and he stood still, until he heard her blowing her nose. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, his eye on her. She finally turned, saw him sitting on the couch, but walked back and sat in her original place.
"I know it probably sounds dull to you," Liz turned to him, as he cocked an eyebrow, and she smiled in spite of her mood. "But it's just I never expected it to get to this point."
Michael didn't need to hear anything else. He knew she was referring to Max. "Funny how that happens, huh?" It was all he could say. Though he wasn't much for words, he was almost in agreement with her statement. He was never an optimistic for love, but he had at least hoped Maria would understand who he was and accept that assessment at face value. She had yet to grant that wish, and Michael had long since let it die.
Liz sighed behind him, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to waste any of your time." He turned to her, seeing a small smile residing on her face. Though he was uncertain how it was placed there, he was just glad she wasn't crying anymore. For some reason, he hoped he was the cause of that smile, but he doubted himself, as he usually did in these moments. Michael Guerin was never charming. Warrior. Stonewall. Complete Idiot.
"No sweat," Michael replied, "I mean—it wasn't a waste of my time. I'm surprised you feel you can confide in me," Michael rephrased. And he was being honest. He was never one to speak his actions with words, but it was another thing when someone was willing to explain theirs. Sure, Maria did that every living second, but it was more of a ramble. With Liz, it felt like she was actually seeking his counsel. It actually made him feel useful—the only other time he felt that way was when he was accomplishing something with his powers. It was refreshing.
"So am I." Another surprise from Liz Parker, he noted. He decided that the girl he had ruled ordinary was full of surprises, and anything but his previous view of her. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to continue their conversation. He had never been the type to open up to a stranger—not that she was a stranger, but they weren't exactly friends either.
Liz shifted in her seat, and finally rose. "Thanks, Michael," she said, exiting the backroom and entering the café. Michael scratched his eyebrow; still shocked that he just formed a semi-conversation with Liz, his exact opposite.
Or was she?
~*~
Chapter Three
~*~
November 3rd –
I'm Liz Parker, one with lost heart. I've always been true to it, through thick and thin.
I've always believed that when it comes to matters of the heart, you should always follow it. My Grandma Claudia taught me that, and I've always trusted in her judgment. Somehow that one journey, one I was so true to with Max, has me lost in a sea of responsibilities. No. Duties. It's my duty to make sure Max finds his way to Tess, or at least makes an effort to make her feel welcome to the group.
I fulfilled that duty, not so long ago, and now I find myself picking up the pieces of a broken heart—Maria's. It's ironic that I gave up my future of love and peacefulness for one that is uncertain, and left me to see the world. Alone. While Max is still trying to cope with my compromising position with Kyle, Maria is still on the bend from Michael. With all the new alien problems, I have little to no time to let myself heal—or feel, for that matter.
I used to be filled with possibilities. Goals. Now they're lost in the wind, as I run down the path with no destination set. There had been hope, that while Max and I were going through a hard time, we'd end up together.
That's how love works. It warms your heart; it makes you feel things that scientifically aren't possible. My love for science, it seems, has turned towards Max. Through finding out his secret, I've let that part of myself go. Maybe through this fog, I'm supposed to find something of myself. Something I left not too long ago. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a resolution in all this to make the pain more bearable.
I can say that to myself, but it wouldn't be true to my heart. But then again, have I listened to my heart at all these past months? I could say no, but that would be a lie. My heart, though straining, told me to push Max away. Save lives. Do the right thing.
I always do, after all, don't I?
~*~
Liz sighed, closing her journal in resignation. She noticed the mournful tone in her writing, usually instead filled with hope and ideas. She couldn't help but feel depressed, as everything she was so certain of that past year had been shattered. And she'd been the one to do it.
She sighed, avoiding looking at the stars that adorned her balcony from above. They were a bitter memory of other nights, where she'd finish a journal entry, and then spend the rest of her evening wondering where in those stars Max's home planet lay. She was about to get up when she heard a scraping noise coming from the ladder, as if someone was coming up. She steeled herself, preparing for the inevitable visit from Max.
Though she'd told him more than once that she'd slept with Kyle, she had a feeling he was still hanging onto hope. Though it killed her to hurt him anymore, she knew she had to be firmer this time. Strong.
His head finally bobbed up, and a minute later he was bringing himself over her balcony. She placed her journal behind her, not sure why but feeling safer in the knowledge that he hadn't seen it. She remembered that one terrifying week when she'd lost it, or at least she thought she had. A wry smile almost came to her face when she remembered how Michael had stolen it. 'To see if he could trust her,' she recalled.
Though she normally would have been angry, his words had touched her and rung true. It had been an awfully big secret to carry, and she knew if she were in Michael's place she would have probably done the same. She watched Max stand before her, as if fumbling for words. She decided to start what she knew would be an awkward and hard conversation to get through.
"Max? What are you doing here?"
He ran his hand through his hair, a sign that he was puzzled. Liz waited, patient. "I had to talk to someone," he admitted. "I didn't know where to go yet I found myself here." He stopped, as if uncertain that this was now a good idea.
Liz sucked in a breath; certain this had something to do with the meeting tonight. Maybe he would thank her for sticking up for him, or maybe he was deciding to go against his decision. Whatever it was, Liz had a feeling it didn't have to do with their relationship. Or lack thereof one, as of recent events.
"Okay. So talk." Liz tried to be casual, but by Max's expression, she knew she had sounded a bit less than enthusiastic. It wasn't that she didn't want to converse with Max, she was just afraid if she did she would either lose herself in him, or he would end up taking another blow. What decision she would ultimately make she was certain of, but playing with the idea still didn't hurt. Until now at least.
He moved towards her, hesitating and finally sitting on the edge of her lawn chair, his body facing towards the wall. Liz was thankful he wasn't facing her when he talked, as his eyes looked far more intense tonight than they had in weeks. "These past few days, Liz, I haven't been me."
He finally twisted his body around, as if to see her reaction. In his eyes, she saw a bit of hope still residing there. She almost winced, for she'd hoped that was long ago. In a way, it was weird to still love Max. Because though she still loved him, she wasn't sure she wanted him to love her. She bit her lip, assessing the situation, pondering what to say, and was confused.
He hadn't been himself? Sure, she'd been obviously irritated by his sudden frequent appearances with Tess, but that hadn't been unlike Max. She'd understood that he would most likely turn to Tess in the afterthought of her wrecking their perfect relationship. Perfect wasn't exactly the way to explain it anymore. Dysfunctional was more like it.
"I'm not following," she finally responded, and Max sighed openly and threw her for a loop as he scooted closer to her on the lawn chair and took her hand in his. Though her first instinct was to remove it, she let it remain for at least that moment. When Liz had felt him grab her hand, she'd expected a spark. Something to say their connection was still there through all the alien ventures. What had surprised her, then, was that she'd felt nothing. Connection—severed.
"The person you've been seeing all day, Liz, it hasn't been me," Max explained, trying to catch her eye. "It was Zan."
Liz finally let out a breath, right in her assessment that something had been wrong about the three duplicates. They'd said Zan was dead, but if he'd been roaming around Roswell—very convincingly—it was obvious they were up to something. "They said he was dead, Max."
Max shook his head, discarding her claim. "From what I've been told, they tried to kill him back in New York," Max told her, again raking his hand through his hair. "Anything I do or say to you Liz, I just wanted you to know. It isn't me."
Liz finally caught the breeze of the conversation. Though he'd needed to talk, Liz figured he was worried Zan might have offended her in some way. Which, of course, was something Max would never do because his hope was still evident in his eyes. Max continued on, seeing her faltering gaze.
"I know that after what happened, you might be a little cautious of the group." He paused, and then, "I just need you to help Zan out, Liz, and not say anything you'll regret."
Liz found herself getting uncomfortable in the situation, and for once, uncomfortable with Max and his ideas about what she would say or do to the group because of their predicament with one another. "Max, what the hell do you think I'm going to say?" she knew it'd been harsh, but her days of patience seemed well over ever since Future Max had stepped on her balcony.
She saw his shock at her truth and outburst, and he slipped his hand away from hers. Liz, angry, had forgotten they'd even been touching. "Liz..."
"No, Max, please don't," Liz took a breath, finding it hard to calm down, "I can understand you filling me in about Zan, but your out of line when it comes to my place in the group," she stopped, seeing his gaze pause. Though she'd always viewed herself as kind, she went in for the kill, though she tried to sound nice throughout it. "You, of all people, should know that nothing, not even Kyle and I sleeping together, would change my view of things. Max, I'm the one that slept with Kyle. Not you."
She saw him shudder, almost, as she yet again admitted to sleeping with Kyle. The first few times she'd felt sorry for him, even for herself, for the situation she'd forced them in. Now she was just tired, tired of proving herself to Max and trying to fix his mold. Though her words to him that one night in his room were forced, Liz had to admit all words had some truth. In a way, Max did hold her on a pedestal.
She'd fallen from grace, and Max had yet to accept that. "I'm sorry, Liz." Max finally spoke, his voice hoarse. Liz's mood softened, knowing she had given him another blow to the heart.
"Can you please leave, Max?" she asked politely, trying to end the awkward situation they'd placed themselves in. No. Max had placed them in it. She'd just merely been dragged along for the castrating ride.
"I'll leave." He said. "But I still love you." He got up, walking away without another word. Liz's heart lurched, and she gulped, as if to stall her tears.
"Please don't say that, Max. I just—I can't love you back ever again. I can't return what you have to give—I," Liz paused, "I'm sorry." She saw his shoulders slump, in defeat, and she watched him avert his gaze to the ground as he made his way back down the ladder. Carefully avoiding her presence, and Liz was grateful for that.
Had he seen her, he would have seen the tears streaming down her face. Liz composed herself, finally, and slipped her journal into its hiding place. When the brick was secure, she made her way through her window, locking it shut.
~*~
Michael walked through the alley to the back door of the Crashdown. He opened the door, glad for its silence. Maria had been outside his door, prolonging his journey to his bike, and eventually making him late for work. He walked towards his locker to change his shirt, but stopped mid-way when he saw Liz perched on the couch, her head hanging in mute silence.
Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn't witnessed her obvious distress, but another part of him was curious what had her guard down.
Though he and Liz didn't have a lot in common, there was one thing he and she shared. They always kept appearances up, however they may cover what mood they were really in. Michael, usually angry, knew it was to cover whatever he'd been raking over in his mind. Usually it was his persisting dilemma with Maria, Max's constant eye on him, or his doubts over the way his life had turned out.
With Liz, she always tried to appear happy and unaffected by the events of an alien life. Michael knew the feeling all too well. It was called being numb. He just hadn't realized he and Liz were in the same damned boat till yesterday, when she'd showed such fire in her eyes. She'd tipped that boat yesterday, and had caught Michael off guard in the process. He finally cleared his throat, making his presence known and leaving her the decision on how far she wanted to let him see how obviously broken she was.
She lifted her head, and he almost sucked in a breath. Her eyes were puffy, probably from deprivation of sleep and crying. Her lips were chapped, an indication she'd been biting it frequently. But most of all, Michael noticed the look in her eyes. It was one of defeat. "You okay?"
He wasn't surprised when her mouth opened and she laughed, though it came out strangled and more like a cry. "I'm fine." She got up, brushing the tears that remained on her face. Michael looked down, unsure of what to say in these situations, though he knew perfectly well it had to do with Max. All of her tears had to do with Max. It came with the alien package, it seemed.
"Max?" he simply asked, and she nodded. She moved past him, and he stood still, until he heard her blowing her nose. He made his way over to the couch and sat down, his eye on her. She finally turned, saw him sitting on the couch, but walked back and sat in her original place.
"I know it probably sounds dull to you," Liz turned to him, as he cocked an eyebrow, and she smiled in spite of her mood. "But it's just I never expected it to get to this point."
Michael didn't need to hear anything else. He knew she was referring to Max. "Funny how that happens, huh?" It was all he could say. Though he wasn't much for words, he was almost in agreement with her statement. He was never an optimistic for love, but he had at least hoped Maria would understand who he was and accept that assessment at face value. She had yet to grant that wish, and Michael had long since let it die.
Liz sighed behind him, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to waste any of your time." He turned to her, seeing a small smile residing on her face. Though he was uncertain how it was placed there, he was just glad she wasn't crying anymore. For some reason, he hoped he was the cause of that smile, but he doubted himself, as he usually did in these moments. Michael Guerin was never charming. Warrior. Stonewall. Complete Idiot.
"No sweat," Michael replied, "I mean—it wasn't a waste of my time. I'm surprised you feel you can confide in me," Michael rephrased. And he was being honest. He was never one to speak his actions with words, but it was another thing when someone was willing to explain theirs. Sure, Maria did that every living second, but it was more of a ramble. With Liz, it felt like she was actually seeking his counsel. It actually made him feel useful—the only other time he felt that way was when he was accomplishing something with his powers. It was refreshing.
"So am I." Another surprise from Liz Parker, he noted. He decided that the girl he had ruled ordinary was full of surprises, and anything but his previous view of her. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to continue their conversation. He had never been the type to open up to a stranger—not that she was a stranger, but they weren't exactly friends either.
Liz shifted in her seat, and finally rose. "Thanks, Michael," she said, exiting the backroom and entering the café. Michael scratched his eyebrow; still shocked that he just formed a semi-conversation with Liz, his exact opposite.
Or was she?
~*~