Disclaimer: Roswell, and its characters do not belong to me. Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox have that particular pleasure. If I was lucky enough to own them, you just know the show would still be on the air, and you be watching that instead of reading this.

Rating: PG-13 to R for inappropriate language and some violence.

Winds of Change

Chapter Three – Remembering

The sounds of cutlery scraping against china rang in Liz Parker's ears. She shook her head, trying to focus, when her best friend Maria stopped her.

"Max Evans is looking at you again," Maria said.

"No way," said Liz, turning away from the register to look over to the booth where Max Evans was sitting with his taciturn friend Michael Guerin.

"He is," Maria insisted. "He is so hot for you."

"Maria, you're terrible," said Liz. "Besides, I'm with Kyle, remember?"

"You don't belong with him, Liz. You belong with Max," Maria said, her voice sounding slow and distorted, like it was coming from far away.

"I'm with Kyle," Liz insisted.

"Max, it's Max," said Maria.

Liz turned away, trying to ignore Maria and focus on the rush of customers that filled the CrashDown café. She made countless trips to the window, carrying plates of food back to the tables. With each trip, the plates grew heavier and heavier until she could hardly stand their weight on her arms.

Suddenly, time sped up, and Liz found herself standing in the middle of the CrashDown while people raced around her and talked so quickly she couldn't comprehend the words. She felt a sharp jerk, and time resumed its normal pace. Befuddled by what was happening, Liz shook her head and continued across the café to the counter. A loud crash drew her attention, and she spun towards the noise. A cacophony of screams filled the air, followed by a sharp crack.

Liz felt something push against her midsection, and she fell backwards. It seemed an eternity before she struck the floor of the CrashDown. She laughed to herself, knowing that according to the laws of physics, the fall should have taken a matter of seconds.

"Liz!" she heard Maria scream. She sounded so far away. Liz struggled to sit up, but she couldn't move. It was getting cold, so very cold. She'd have to remember to tell her father that the air conditioner was too high.

"Call an ambulance," she heard a voice say from far away. She felt someone kneel down next to her, and rip her uniform opened. She tried to get them to stop. So cold, she was so cold.

"It's going to be all right," the voice said.

Liz smiled inside. The voice made her feel safe and warm, like nothing bad was ever going to happen to her.

"Liz. Liz! You have to look at me!" the voice called. "You have to look at me!"

Liz struggled to open her eyes, and found herself getting lost in the amber depths of Max Evans eyes. She felt Max put his hand on her stomach. A burst of heat filled her abdomen, warming her to the very depths of her soul. She stared into Max's eyes, seeing images of him as a child. She felt what he felt; the feelings of fear and loss that followed him. She saw him staring, always staring at her and felt the attraction he felt for her, just as he felt the attraction she felt for him.

With a jerk, the connection was severed.

"You're going to be okay," Max said. He reached above her and grabbed something and smashed it on the edge of the counter, and she feels the cool heaviness of ketchup spill over her body, and uniform, mingling with the blood that already stained it.

"You broke the bottle when you fell, spilled ketchup on yourself. Don't say anything, please?" Max whispered.

Before she could say anything, he was gone.

"Max! Max!" Liz yelled. "Max!"

Liz sat up with a jerk, her sheets tangles up around her body. Her breath came in gasps, and her face was covered in a film of sweat.

"Oh God," she whispered to the dark bedroom. "What was that?"

"Liz, honey, are you all right?" her mother called softly through the bedroom door.

"Yeah, um, I'm fine, Mom, Liz said. "I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it?" her mother asked.

"No, I'm okay. I'm just going to go to back to sleep," Liz said. "Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, sweetie," her mother said.

Liz waited until she heard her parent's bedroom door close before she jumped out of bed. She ran across the room to the mirror, and pulled up her shirt and looked at the reflection of her abdomen.

"There should be something here," she said to the empty room. "He healed me, there should be something here."

Confused, she reached for her journal and climbed back into her bed to record her thoughts.

It's September 24, and I just had the strangest dream.

It was me that Max Evans healed in the CrashDown, and it felt so real, so right, but I know that it isn't true. I was there. I saw him save Maria. It was Maria, not me, and yet, when I woke up, I was so sure it was real. I was searching my body for something. What? An entry wound? I don't have any answers. I don't know how Max healed Maria. What he did was unnatural, but he saved my friend from dying. Maybe we should just accept it as a gift. But my dream, it was real, so very real. I felt the bullet hit me. I could feel the life draining away from me. I need to talk to Max about this. I know I should stay away, but I can't. It's Max.

Liz slipped the pen into the journal and closed it and placed it on her nightstand. She reached over and turned off the small lamp beside her bed. She rearranged her pillows and slid down under her covers.

"Max," she whispered as sleep overtook her.