A/N: Hey guys it was my 17th birthday yesterday (19/07), so I'm sorry for the slow update!

For Elli, Ciara is pronounced Kee-ah- rah.

I'm so glad I can use italics now with this edit thingymajiggy!! It was IMPOSSIBLE before!! So thank you Fanfiction!

Thank you all so much for your reviews, it's brilliant to get some for a new story, as this is only a sort of test drive to myself, as it is the first time I have written a Roswell story in two years. For some of you who are confused about the war, I have no idea about what happens in the series as they stopped showing it here (Scotland) half way through season two. Please keep reviewing and enjoy the story! Kirsty

P.s. Irn-Bru is a fizzy Scottish drink. It is made by a company called Barr and is not sold anywhere else.

Chapter Three

While Liz and Kyle caught up on news, Max sat in a corner of the garden, looking on at another alien he had never met before. He noticed Liz was heavy on Tabasco sauce also, but maybe not as much as her daughter. He realized that not everybody who was an alien ate Tabasco sauce, as how would the company that makes it keep on producing the sauce? The girl had noticed Max staring and had come over to talk to him. She looked to him like a mini-Liz, at the age when she first left him at the cave all those years ago.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced." She announced, holing out her hand for him to shake.

"I don't think so. I'm Max, Isabel's brother."

"I know, and I'm Liz's daughter, Ciara."

"How old are you?" he asked, stressing the word, 'old'.

"Seventeen this summer." She replied simply. Max accounted that nine months plus almost seventeen years would make up the time of how long Liz had been gone from Roswell for.

"So you can drive then?"

"I'm allowed to start my provisional four weeks before my birthday, but I don't think it would be legal for me to start here."

"Why not? You are part American aren't you?"

"Yes. Well, full American. I was just brought up in Scotland, so I guess that makes me sort of Scottish."

"Ciara, come over here a minute will you!" called Isabel, who was buttering buns at the table. Her mother was standing beside her looking worried.

"How much do you think she said?" Liz muttered to Isabel as Ciara walked over.

"What would you like to drink, honey?" she asked.

"Have you got any Irn-Bru?" She asked politely.

"Honey, they don't sell it in America."

"Is that the horrible orange liquid that Maria brought back a ton for us?"

"Could be."

"It's in the garage, I'll go and get a box."

As Isabel walked swiftly away, Liz turned to her daughter. "What were you talking to Max about?"

"I introduced myself as you didn't, while he asked me how old I was and when I could drive. Rather minimal really."

"So he doesn't suspect?"

"No. I don't think so. I don't know why you didn't tell him, mummy. He's a rather nice man."

"He had his destiny, and I had my fate."

"Yes, mum, I know. But don't you think he deserves to know?"

"He dumped me after we slept together. How do you think that made me feel?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean it that way."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Mum, you're acting like a teenager." The two generations laughed at this.

Unbeknownst to them Max had been eavesdropping quite subtly. He had heard practically everything, and felt very guilty. All these years, he had never really realised how Liz's side of things could be. He never stopped thinking about her, but never considered her point of view. Tess was there to pick up the pieces, but she was never a good substitute. Liz had had fire, and passion while Tess had alien powers but was lame. He deeply regretted following his destiny, only for it to throw it back at him, at the worst possible time.

He had found a letter from Tess explaining everything. The baby and the miscarriage especially. He felt extra guilty for not being there when she needed him. He seemed to have been doing a lot of that recently. Max turned his mind back to the present and concentrated on the conversation taking place. Suddenly, Liz walked towards him and sat beside him on the garden bench.

"How are you, Max?" He was flabbergasted that she actually came to talk to him after everything that he did and of what he had just heard about himself. He liked how she still had the way of slipping his name off her tongue as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Good," he answered. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more so. Her face had matured but had not lost its' grace. Her blue eyes were warm and kind, just as he remembered. He, again, tuned back into the present, as Liz asked him a question.

"Miss me?" She asked, jokingly.

Max took a sip of his juice before he spoke. "Of course, how could I not?"

She shrugged and looked towards Ciara. "She's a nice girl, you've brought her up well."

"Her father wasn't around, so I raised her as well as I could as a single mother." She answered plainly.

"Was Scotland good to you?"

"Yes. After Ciara was old enough to go to school, I started part time at a local University. They don't usually let people do that on such a course, but after they saw my grades from here, they were very friendly. I now have a degree in Art and British Art History. Twenty of my paintings are up at the gallery where Kyle works, you should go and see them."

"So you are the artist he was talking about then." He figured.

"I asked him not to say anything."

"He said you were interesting and just 'my type'. He gave no names."

"That's just like he is I expect."

"Yes. What do you paint?"

"Portraits. My teacher though it was admirable that I could paint a vivid picture of someone that I had not seen in years."

"Who do you paint? What sort of people?"

"Aliens," she answered, "with Ciara included in that bracket." She stood up and walked away, while Max just sat there staring at her with his mouth open wide.

TBC...