Title: A Fated Meeting

Pairing: Unsure as of yet. Definitely NOT a Max/Liz!

Summary: An alternate beginning for Michael and Liz.

Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to someone else and this story is my own idea.

Warning: Some violence although not too graphic.


Prologue, Chapter 1: A Fated Meeting


At 16 years old Lizzie had grown up to be a very beautiful young woman, Michael noted as he watched her practicing her kata. Her figure was well toned by the many years of gymnastics, Tae Kwon Do and Kickboxing she practiced; her muscles supple and firm. Her now Auburn waist length hair glistened with a red tinge in the morning light.

After 10 years of a multitude of foster homes they had both finally applied for emancipation and were now living together, on their own.

Thinking back to when they had first met, Michael had known she was someone special and decided to stay with her and protect her just as she had done with him. He was glad that they had stuck together. He had to shudder about what would have happened to either of them had they not met.

10 years earlier.

Liz walked around the deserted streets of her hometown Rosewood Bay, unsure exactly where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there. She knew it was dangerous for a little girl to be wandering around in the middle of the night unaccompanied but it was safer out here then back at her foster home. At 6 years of age, Liz was a tiny bedraggled figure, her uneven brunette hair a drab tangled mess and she swam in her black adult sized t-shirt.

The sudden thump of something hitting something hard along with a loud screech caught her attention and she sprinted as fast as her tiny legs could take her towards it, some unconscious instinct taking priority over her fears.

In a short amount of time she came across a dark alley and by squinting slightly she could just make out the two figures struggling in the dimness. One was a large man in a black leather jacket, the other was a boy who was close to her age, and the man was hitting the boy.

It was the sound of the boys sobs which broke her out of her paralysing fear and picket up the nearest object, to use as a weapon for protection it was a broken piece of wood from the remains of a crate, and forgetting everything except the need to get him to stop she ran towards them and hit him on the back. The Man stopped and turned towards her and smacked her hard across the face flinging her a couple of metres away.

-------------------------------

Michael glanced up scared, angry and unsure when the beating stopped but when he heard the scream of someone else and saw the Man hit her again, heard the breaking of her bones a red haze seemed to overtake him and he held his out hand. A power flew from his palm and struck the man making him fly backwards into the brick wall knocking him out cold.

Michael stared at his hand in shock as he realised what he had just done. A whimpering brought him back to awareness and his eyes slid from his hand to lock onto the girl who was gasping for breath.

The agonising pain showed clearly in her face and he rushed to her side, stopping not far from her. As is if she could sense his unsureness she weakly held her arm up gesturing him closer. He tentatively moved to her side and she tugged on his sleave until his head hovered close to hers, 'are you alright,' she whispered in concern, wincing in pain.

Michael was stunned, here was a girl who was clearly in pain yet she was still concerned about him. He'd been out of his pod and wandering around this planet called earth for several weeks now and his encounters with the so called society had only resulted in pain and suffering until this girl tried to help him getting hurt in the progress yet was still concerned more for him then herself.

He grasped the hand that had been clutching his t-shirt and gave her what he hoped was a smile, 'I'm good,' he whispered back 'are you ok?"

"I . . . gasp . . . I hurt." The strain of the talking weakened her and with tears rolling silently down her face she slumped back, eyes closing.

"Girl . . . girl . . . girl,' Michael worriedly shook her arm, trying to get her to awake, after several moments passed with no response.

Michael began to panic, terrified of losing the only nice person he'd ever met that he could remember, 'Girl, girl, GIRL!' The heart wrenching fear for her was overwhelming and he felt a strange tingling run through his body from the toes to the tips of his fingers. Energy coursed through him in hot waves and sparks flared in his mind.

Time seemed to stand still.

Liz looked over to her best friend and could see by the look on his face that he was remembering the first time they had met.

Completing her kata, she crossed through the sunlit lounge room and curled up next to him. Michael automatically held her close and she laid her head on his shoulder.

She'd known that there was something special about Michael when she had first been pulled towards him by some unknown thread.

10 years earlier.

Liz awoke with a gasp, feeling surprisingly good although after what had happened earlier, surprising because of what had happened with the bad man and the injuries she knew she should be in pain from. Should being the operative word.

Looking around she spotted the boy who had been hurt, he was now slumped on the ground next to her. His chest was still moving up and down so she knew he was still alive. Satisfied that he was alright except for the bruises forming all over his body, she warily looked around for the man and saw him lying unconscious on the ground next to the wall. The sound of a car back firing echoed like a gun making her jump in fright. Hearing a slight yelp coming from the boy beside her she turned to see him staring around in confusion and fear. "Boy . . . are you alright?' she asked in a quiet gentle voice. The same tone she used when talking to animals and little children.

He watched her warily, 'I'm alright." He replied and Liz sighed in relief.

"What's your name? Mine's Liz."

"Michael,' was his short answer. They sat in silence, both unsure of what to say or do until the sound of the man coming around gave them both a fright.

"Come on,' Liz cried as she leapt up pulling Michael up with her and dragging him behind her as they ran. They sped through the streets, Liz leading the way until they reached the trailer park and her current foster home.

What they saw when they got there made them both stop in shock. Lights from an Ambulance and police cars were glaring from where they were surrounding her foster home. Police persons milled around mingling with the occupants of other trailers and her foster mother was being wheeled by on a stretcher pushed by medics, cuts and bruises covered her body, Liz let out a sob and ran towards her forgetting that she still held Michaels hand firmly in her own.

"Gracie, Gracie . . . are you all right?" The injured woman gave a weak smile.

'Hey there girl, there you are, I was worried when I couldn't find you."

"Hank started drinking his beer as soon as he came home, it was safer to disappear then be around then."

Gracie smiled sadly, 'you're a good girl Lizzie, a good smart girl,' just then the medics placed her into the ambulance and Liz tried to follow her only to be stopped by a hand placed on her shoulder. It was a police woman.

"Is your name Elizabeth Jamieson?"

Liz nodded mutely.

"Liz . . . can I call you Liz?"

Another nod of agreement.

"Liz, I'm Lieutenant Kelly Stevens, can I ask you some questions please?" Liz edged closer to Michael and nodded once more.

The following years had been hectic, when any of the social workers had tried to split them up and to put them in different foster homes one or the other of them would run away to be back with them. After a couple of years of that the social workers finally had enough and from then on in the only time they were placed in foster care were if they could be placed together.

The ringing of the phone startled her and reached over to the side table to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, can I please speak to an Elizabeth Jamieson."

"This is she."

"Oh right . . . Miss Jamieson, this is Annette Preston from social services I was wondering if I could possibly come see you sometime soon . . . It's regarding your family."

"My . . . my family?"

"Yes . . . your family."

Liz stared into thin air stunned by the idea. She was only vaguely aware of the social worker trying to regain her attention and Michael taking the receiver out of her hand, his husky deep voice just a murmur through her clouded mind.

Family?

What?

"Huh?"


A/N: Should I continue this fic?