Author: Katydidit aka PolarEmeralds aka Kat
Email: NobodysFool2507@yahoo.com
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.
Genre:Drama/Angst
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! *demented laughter* Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. *blissful grin* Ahhh, if only.. *cough* Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. *g*
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.
A/N: Figured since I hadn't updated in a while, I should try for two in the same week. Let's see if this works. And Phillip! I thought so! Thanks, diamondkitten (at PolarAttraction). Also, you guys shouldn't worry *too* much about anything *really* bad happening to Liz, since she's my most favoritest character. ...Yeah. Lol. Also, expect this story to maybe get a bit more Polar from this chapter on.
Things Aren't Always What They Seem
Chapter Four
Michael groaned as the sun snuck through his curtains and knocked on his eyelids. At least today was Saturday. He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow in hopes of sleeping for another few hours. Damn sun...
The phone rang, and Michael heard Hank swearing as he rose to answer it. Michael sat straight up as he realized that he was thundering towards his room. Hank slammed the door open.
"Phone," he growled. "And keep it down." He stomped away. Michael was puzzled as to why Hank hadn't hit him or anything, but then he heard a woman's voice in the next room and it all became clear. And gross. Shuddering, Michael trudged into the kitchen to pick up the phone.
"Yeah."
"Michael, we're going to the Crashdown for breakfast, and my parents want to know if you want to come."
"Gee, I had my day all planned out..."
"If you don't want to come, don't come."
Michael made a face and lowered his voice. "I'll come. Hank's got a chick over." He heard Max shudder loudly.
"Ew ew ew!"
"Exactly. I'll be over in five minutes."
Without even changing clothes (they didn't stink), Michael dashed out of the trailer.
***
"Hey, Michael. Were you running, son? We'd have waited for you."
Michael didn't answer-just ducked under Mr. Evans' arm, panting. Max, Isabel, and their mother joined the two men, and out they went.
"It looks like it's still closed," Isabel said, looking skeptically at the Crashdown's empty interior.
"Then why's music playing?" Max asked, looking at her like she was stupid. "Let's just go inside." He pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. Piano-rock was playing, accompanied by a few male singers and one familiar female voice.
"Piece by piece, and bit by bit
I'll break this down for you, real slow
But I can't whisper all of this
And I can't seem to let this go
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I can tell its your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes
Part and part and inch by inch
You'll have your mile when it's through
Incinerate what's left of this
and torch the part of me that's you
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes." She spun into view, belting out the last line. The song ended, and she looked up, turning a bright scarlet when she saw the five of them standing there. She smiled sheepishly, rubbing her eyebrow. "Um... hi. Lemme get your menus."
They sat down at a booth, and Liz returned.
"Quite a set of pipes you've got there," Mr. Evans said. Liz turned red again and handed them their menus.
"Thanks... Could you not tell my dad I was doing that? ...I'm not supposed to play music that loudly in the restaurant."
"Isn't he here?"
"No. He's gone to Santa Fe for five days."
Which would account for Liz's burst of enthusiasm. Phillip laughed and patted Liz's hand. "Your secret's safe with me."
"Thank you very much. Coffee?"
"Two decafs, please. Diane, you want any?"
"Har, har."
Liz left to get the coffee.
"She seems happy today," Mr. Evans said. His wife nodded.
"I wonder why she isn't like that more often."
"Is it just me, or does she always look scared?" Isabel asked, flipping through the menu.
"What on earth would she be scared of?" Mrs. Evans asked, laughing. "This is Roswell, New Mexico-the biggest thing you have to worry about is tourists looking for alien skulls!"
She shrugged, and Michael knew she was a bit rattled by her mother's words. He grabbed her hand under the table.
Liz returned, carefully setting the hot mugs on the table. "Half a cream and half an Equal each, just like you like it. Do you know what you'll have?"
They ordered, and just as Liz was walking away, Diane spoke up.
"Liz, honey, where's your mom? I have those books she wanted."
Liz stiffened and turned, and she and Michael locked eyes. Then she relaxed back into her disguise. "She's in Santa Fe with Dad."
"Oh... she didn't say anything about a business trip the last time I spoke with her."
"It was kind of sudden." Liz made an odd face, as though it hurt her to lie.
"Liz, could you do me a favor and give these to her when she gets back? If I take them back home with me, I'll end up never giving them to her."
Liz's eyes inexplicably filled with tears and she took the bag Mrs. Evans was holding out. "Sure thing." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Your order should be out in a few." Liz turned to leave again.
"Hey, wait."
Liz turned around again. "Yes?"
"Who's looking after you while your parents are gone?"
"Well, Jose's here in the daytime..."
"And at night?"
She shrugged. "I'm old enough."
"No. You're hardly thirteen years old-you're not staying alone for almost a week. Call your parents and ask them to let you stay with us."
"Mrs. Evans, thanks a lot, but I can really take care of myself..."
"I believe you sweetheart, but...could you just humor me? I'm an old woman. I worry."
"If you're sure...?" She looked at Mr. Evans, who looked at Isabel, who looked at Max, who nodded vigorously.
"It's fine with all of us. Call your dad."
Liz nodded and left. Michael heard her on the phone, quietly speaking with her father. After a while, she returned to the table.
"Mr. Evans, my dad wants to talk to you..."
"Of course he does!" He laughed and slid out of the booth.
"I can't believe they'd just leave you here alone like that!" Diane said, shaking her head. Liz didn't know how to answer that, apparently, so she nodded and headed back to the kitchen, while Mr. Evans returned to the table, looking back at her strangely.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing. She's staying with us..."
"Then, why do you look like that?"
"Geoff said Nancy isn't with him."
"Where is she?"
"He said she left for Tulsa two days ago."
"Then why'd she lie?"
He shrugged. Max and Michael shared a look, as Liz returned with their breakfast.
"It's all settled, honey. You're staying with us."
Liz nodded, keeping her eyes down.
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Evans asked.
"Nothing. Will there be anything else?"
"This should do it."
"Okay."
Michael quickly finished his (*gag*) Crash Alien Eggs (scrambled eggs), UFO toast (basically, toast with a UFO design on the front), and rocket fuel (orange juice), and went over to the counter, where Liz was reading. He pulled himself up so he was straddling the counter, watching her read.
"That's disgusting, Michael," Liz said, not looking up.
"What?"
"You've got your dirty combat boots all over the counter."
"I do not. Look."
She glanced up, then back at her book. "Fine. You've got your butt all over the counter."
"That can't be helped."
She rolled her eyes.
"Hey, why'd you lie to the Evanses about your mom?"
"Don't want their pity."
"I know the feeling... But they found out."
"How?"
"Your dad."
"Figures. Are they mad?"
"Confused."
"Lovely."
"What are you going to tell them?"
"That my dad hits me and my mom got fed up and ran away."
"Seriously?"
"Do I look like an idiot? I'll find something to tell them..."
"So you're going to lie to my parents," said a voice from behind them. Liz jerked her head up, and Michael looked. Max was standing there, arms crossed. He sat down.
"How much'd you just hear, Maxwell?"
"Just the part about how Liz is going to lie to my parents."
"Then you don't know what we're talking about."
"So tell me."
Michael glanced at Liz, who sighed and closed her book.
"You can't tell *anyone*, Max," Liz warned. Max nodded. "Good. See, sometimes running the Crashdown can get really stressful. You know- especially in the off-season when there aren't that many tourists. So my dad gets really cranky at about this time. And I, being me, tend to annoy him a lot."
"Bull, Liz. You're not annoying," Michael said. "Stop making excuses for him. Maxwell, her dad hits her."
Max was in shock, looking at Liz pityingly. She moaned and stepped back. "Don't look at me like that," she begged. Max looked away.
"Sorry. You mean, he *hits* hits you?"
Liz nodded, getting a rag and rubbing at the counter.
"I have to tell my parents."
"Don't." Liz said quietly.
"Why?"
"Max, if you consider yourself my friend, please don't tell."
Aha. Interesting. Using the friend card with the kid who practically worships you.
"Liz...I do. But what if he hurts you really bad one day?"
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"He's my father... Can we talk about something else?"
Max nodded, looking upset. "What are you reading?"
"Jane Eyre."
"Interesting."
Liz rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Max, Michael, are you staying here?" Mr. Evans asked, handing Liz the money for breakfast. She quickly worked the cash register, handing him his change with a smile.
"I am, if that's all right with Liz?" Max asked hopefully. Liz nodded.
"I am too, then." Michael said. "Someone's gotta supervise."
Liz punched him in the arm, and Max just turned red. Michael pretended to swipe at Liz, but she jumped away.
"Okay. Have fun, you guys." He left.
"Why don't you sing more?" Max asked. Liz turned red and looked away.
"I do...just not in public."
"Why not?"
"I just don't." She shrugged.
"Fine then."
"Fine." She grinned, and Maria pushed through the door.
"Liz, I hope your rotten father is happy. Making a poor innocent girl get up at eleven on a Saturday morning. Jerky bum..." she continued complaining as she made her way into the locker room to change into her uniform. Liz rolled her eyes and waited for Maria to come out.
"Good morning, Sunshine," she said, putting her arm on Maria's shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What's SpikeBoy doing here?"
"What's it look like, Freak?"
"Looks like you're getting your butt cooties all over the counter. Off. Now."
"Better do it, Michael. She'll beat you up," Max said. Michael rolled his eyes and hopped off.
"I suppose you want me to clear that table, huh, Liz?" Maria asked.
"Oh. Oops. No. I'll get it."
"That's fine. I got it. It's the Evanses', right?"
"Yeah..."
Maria headed over to clear their table.
"That's nice of her," Max said.
"Not really," Liz replied, snorting. "Your dad always leaves a big tip."
"So, Liz," Maria asked from across the restaurant. "How long will your dad be gone?"
"Not long enough," Liz muttered, then raised her voice. "Five days."
"Party at the Parker's," Maria said, dancing with the tray to the kitchen. "Wanna stay at my house?"
"Thanks, but I'm already staying with the Evanses."
"You're—how?"
"His parents got her first. Tough luck, freak," Michael said, heading to the radio to find a good station. After a while of searching, he found one playing Metallica.
"Ugh. Turn it off," Maria groaned, sliding up onto the counter.
"Nope."
"Then I will."
"Nope."
She rolled her eyes.
"Hey, how come you're allowed to put your butt cooties on the counter but I'm not?" Michael challenged.
"Because I work here."
He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the favor.
"Honestly guys, let's be as immature as we can," Liz muttered wryly.
"Liz, you can't be mature with this loser over here. It's, like he doesn't have a serious gene in his body."
"Then you two would be a perfect match."
"Ew!" Maria exclaimed, jumping off the counter. "Ew ew, ew ew ew!"
"No they wouldn't," Max said.
"Thank you, Romeo!" Maria said, glancing at Michael and taking a step away.
"I mean, can you imagine what their kids would be like? Four-year-olds their entire lives."
"True," Liz agreed. Maria shuddered loudly.
"Just shut up you guys! This is disgusting! Like I would ever have kids with SpikeBoy! That's about as probably as you and Michael kissing!"
"Probable, Maria."
"Whatever."
This was too good to pass up. "You wouldn't have kids with me, Maria?" Michael asked, hanging his head and going behind the counter to stand next to Liz. "That hurts, it really does."
Liz laughed and stroked his back. "There, now. Look what you've done. You've hurt his feelings."
Michael lifted his head and gave Liz a wicked little grin, which she returned. This wasn't lost on Max, who gasped. Before he really knew what he was doing, Michael had pulled Liz closer to him and tilted her head up, then he'd pressed his lips against hers. It was like an electric current had run through her and into him-just like something in one of Isabel's stupid romance books. Well...maybe in her romance novels, there wasn't a high- pitched screeching going on in the background...that sort of thing didn't really add to the atmosphere. He slowly pulled back, surreptitiously sliding an arm around Liz's back when he felt her teeter a little. He looked down her-her eyes were wide, and she was laughing. But not an 'omigod-this-guy-cannot-kiss' laugh, it was an 'omigod-I-cannot-believe- this-guy-just-kisssed-me', nervous-type laugh. Max's eyes were equally wide, and as he and Liz locked gazes, he started laughing too, which, of course, made Michael laugh a little. Not too much-he had a reputation to keep up, after all.
"Liz Parker, I cannot believe you just kissed SpikeBoy 'Jerkface' Guerin! Are you crazy? You have to get a rabies shot now!" Maria screeched, her face pale white.
"That's only if I'd bitten her, Freak," Michael said. But she was still flipping out.
"I don't even know who you are anymore! I can't look at you! This is disgusting! Ugh! Ew! Ew! Ew! What's wrong with you?!"
"Maria-Maria!" Liz exclaimed
"What?"
"Methinks the lady doth protesteth too much."
"Yeah, well, me thinks you doth be mentally ill!"
Liz rolled her eyes, and looked up as a young couple entered, taking them their menus.
"I have to go dig my eyes out with something now!" Maria exclaimed, heading into the kitchen.
"Use the family's spoons, and leave the restaurant's alone," Liz said over her shoulder, standing at the couple's table to take their drink orders.
"Elizabeth Claudia Parker, do not encourage that girl," Jose said, pushing Maria out of the kitchen and handing her an ice cream scooper. Maria made a face and set it down, approaching Michael and poking him in the chest.
"And you, you freak! What'd you go and kiss my best friend for?! What, do you think you're some kind of casa de never or something?"
"Casanova, Maria," Liz corrected, returning to the counter and filling two clean glasses with soda.
"Whatever."
"Calm down, Freak," Michael said. "You'll have a heart attack. It's not like I kissed *you*."
"You might as well have! Liz and I are practically the same person!"
"Maria, how do you know I didn't kiss him back? That means, essentially, you kissed him too."
"Let's stop sharing now," Max moaned, putting his head on the counter. Maria looked sick.
"Liz, I don't want to be best friends anymore, okay? Let's just be really, really, really good friends who tell each other everything but are two completely separate people, okay?"
"I can live with that."
"Good. I'm going to go...get some ice cream now, okay?" Maria picked up the ice cream scooper.
"Maria, it's not even lunchtime yet."
"After watching that, Liz, I think I deserve it." She headed into the kitchen, and, after a small 'discussion' with Jose, Maria returned, eating a small bowl of ice cream triumphantly. Jose stuck his head out.
"You guys, just so you know. I'm rigging up a booby trap in here, so if a particular Goldilocks comes in again, Mr. Parker will have to find another waitress."
"Don't call me Goldilocks, Jose," Maria chirped good-naturedly.
Max still had his head on the counter when Liz came back and handed Jose the order sheet. She laughed and patted his head. "We're not going to do it again... It's safe to look."
He raised his head and looked at her, then at Michael, then shook his head and laughed again.
"You two are so weird."
"But you like 'em," Maria piped in.
"Excuse you?" Michael asked. She realized what she'd said.
"Oh. Not like that... I mean, you're his friend, so he must like you somehow... and he likes Liz, so he likes both of you."
The three of them were silent, staring steadily at Maria. She got uncomfortable and stood. "Jose, unrig your booby trap...they're scaring me."
"Sorry, Goldilocks."
"Jerk. Guys, don't look at me like that. You know what I meant."
They started laughing.
The rest of the day was uneventful (well...as uneventful as a day with Maria DeLuca can possibly be), and just after closing time, Phillip came in.
"You three ready?"
They nodded, and on the way out, Liz froze.
"What?"
"I'll be right back." She dashed up the stairs and returned a minute later with her toothbrush. Michael rolled his eyes and held the door open for them. Liz, who was the last one out, locked the door before she climbed into the car next to Michael.
"How was it today?"
"Dead. Again." Liz answered. He laughed.
"Tourists are thinning out. Business'll pick up after a while."
Yeah. Tell that to her dad, apparently. Liz glanced worriedly over at him, as though she'd read his mind. That was so creepy. He made a face at her, and she laughed.
"What are you two doing back there?" Mr. Evans said mock-sternly, looking at them in the rearview mirror. Liz paled and looked out the window. Michael and Phillip locked eyes for a second, until Mr. Evans returned his eyes to the road. The car ride was silent-none of them were the kind of person who felt the need to talk just to fill the silence-and they soon arrived at the Evanses house.
"Find a place to put that-" Mr. Evans nodded at Liz's toothbrush and grinned. "And wash up for dinner."
"You can use the guest bathroom," Max said, pulling Liz through the hallway. "That's what Michael uses when he stays over." He took her toothbrush and plopped it in the cup next to the one Michael used, then smiled at Liz. She smiled back, and Max pulled her back through the hallway into the kitchen.
"She's here!" Max announced in the doorway, stepping aside to present Liz, who was looking absolutely mortified.
"God, Max. Calm down," Isabel said, rolling her eyes at Liz.
"Don't just stand there, Liz!" Mrs. Evans said, pulling out a chair. "Sit down! Glad to have you here."
Liz smiled uncomfortably, and Michael took a seat between her and Isabel. Once Diane had gotten everything on the table, she took her seat and held out her hands, signaling everyone else to do the same. He took Liz's hand, catching her eyes and making a mock-kissy face. She laughed silently and closed her eyes, squeezing his hand in admonition. The prayer finished, and everyone let go, passing each dish around the table.
After everyone had finished, Mrs. Evans stood to get the dishes. Liz immediately stood to help. Diane looked surprised, but didn't say a word.
"No game tonight," Phillip said, smiling. Michael saw Liz tense, and Mrs. Evans put an arm around her, laughing.
"He's kidding, honey."
"Let's go claim the TV," Michael whispered to Max, who nodded. "We'll be in the living room, Liz."
"Okay."
They went into the living room and sprawled out on various pieces of furniture.
"Hey Max?" Isabel asked, her voice low.
"What?"
"Do you know why Liz lied to Momma and Dad?"
Max and Michael shared a Look.
"You do. Why?"
"I can't tell you," Max said.
"Why?"
"I promised."
"Promised who?"
"Liz."
Isabel looked hurt. "Oh. I'm gonna go to my room."
"Izzy, no-"
"It's okay, Max. I understand."
"No, you don't." He sighed. "Come back."
"Maxwell, what are you doing?"
"I'm gonna tell her."
"You can't!"
"Why?"
"You promised Liz."
"This is my sister. Liz'll understand."
Michael didn't answer. Liz probably would, but that didn't make it right.
"So, why'd she lie?" Isabel asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.
"You can't tell anyone-not even Momma or Dad."
"...Okay."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"Liz's mom left them. She went to Oklahoma."
Isabel looked shocked "Why?"
"Because...I don't know exactly why, but it has something to do with the fact that her dad...he hits her."
"Mr. Parker hits Liz?"
"Yeah. Do not tell a soul."
"Someone should-what if he hurts her really bad?"
"That 's what I said. But she made me swear."
"Yeah, and look what happened," came a new, hurt, voice from the doorway. Max leapt up.
"Liz! I'm sorry!"
She was silent.
"Liz, it's Isabel. My sister. I had to tell her."
Liz nodded, still silent, and went to sit in the chair furthest from them, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"Liz, is it true?" Isabel asked quietly. Liz didn't answer, so Michael went over to kneel by her.
"Hey," he murmured. She looked at him, eyes teary. "It's okay. Isabel won't tell anyone."
"Too many people know," Liz mumbled fearfully. Michael rubbed her knee.
"No-just us three. We're not going to tell. I'm certainly not. Remember? We match?"
Liz glanced at his arm and nodded, sniffling, then looked over at the other two, who were watching worriedly.
"Don't blame him, Liz," Isabel said. "I made him."
Liz smiled and wiped her eyes. "It's okay."
"So...how long has he been doing...that?" Isabel asked.
Liz did the math in her head. "Um. Eight years, on and off," she answered quietly. That was longer than he'd been living with Hank, Michael realized with a start.
"And no one's ever found out?"
Liz shook her head.
"Okay, guys!" Boomed a voice from the doorway. "Who wants to play trivial pursuit? Women vs. Men!"
"Ha ha!" Isabel exclaimed. "We're gonna beat you guys!
"Only because you guys have Liz," Michael replied.
"But you guys have Max, so it's even."
Max turned red and helped his father set up the board, while Mrs. Evans looked at Michael and Liz. Michael realized that he was still kneeling next to her.
"Liz, honey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you sitting like that?"
Liz looked down and her knees and slowly lowered her legs to the ground, looking back at Mrs. Evans as if to prove something.
"Come over here, silly," she said. "We have to work on our strategy if we're going to beat these men."
Liz hesitated, eyes dancing. "That shouldn't be too hard," she said softly, smiling tentatively. Michael threw a pillow at her, which she ducked, grinning wider.
"Did I just hear you *insult* my gender, young lady?" Mr. Evans asked, pretending to glare at her. Liz obviously knew he was kidding, but she still looked a bit scared as she nodded. "You know that for that, we have to beat you guys?" Liz's eyes widened a fraction. "In the game." She relaxed, and smiled. Max caught Michael's eyes, looking pleased that Liz was teasing them a little.
Despite all his big talk, the women beat the pants off the men, and, after Isabel's victory dance (which left Michael and Max on the floor, clutching their stomachs in laughter), the parents left the room, leaving the kids alone to talk.
"Liz, I have a question..." Isabel began hesitantly.
"So ask it." Liz said, though it was likely she already knew the question.
"Why don't you want anyone to know? About your dad?"
Liz shrugged. "I...because he-I just don't."
"Well, what if he hurts you really bad one day?"
"He won't."
"How do you know that?"
"Because...he just won't. I stay out of his way, most of the time. And if it ever comes down to that, I'm a fast runner." She smiled grimly.
Isabel looked unconvinced. "But what happened to your arm?"
Liz looked confused, until Michael reached over and rolled up her sleeve.
"I saw it at dinner. Just so you know, I think Momma saw it too."
"That's what that look was for," Liz said quietly. Michael held her arm in his lap, inspecting it.
"You didn't do this yourself, did you?"
She glared at him. "Michael, do I honestly look like I want to—" He knew she was going to say something like 'feel more pain'. "—cut myself?" She finished lamely.
"Then what happened?" Isabel asked. Michael had one idea-and the picture of Liz's father-at least three times her size-holding her down while he cut her made him sick. She pulled her arm away, reading his mind again.
"He...I was washing dishes."
"Huh?"
"There were a bunch of dishes in the bottom of the sink, but on top of them- kind of floating around in the water or something-were the silverware-you know...knives."
"Why didn't you take them out?" Max asked quietly.
"He told me I had to wash the dishes first..." Liz said, inspecting her palm. "I'd forgotten that the person who usually does it had the day off, so I had just kept piling the dishes in the sink... It was my fault, really. Before bed, he came and got me and told me to wash the dishes."
"How is that your fault?"
"I didn't look at the schedule. I should have known that Marco wasn't there."
"Liz, you don't even have to work there-you're thirteen. You shouldn't have known," Michael said angrily. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" She asked.
"You always blame yourself. You don't *make* him hit you."
She fidgeted. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Why?"
"Someone might hear."
"Liz," Max began. "Maybe someone *needs* to hear."
She looked up sharply. "What?"
"If you don't do something, he'll get worse and worse, and you'll end up in the hospital. Or-" He trailed off, unable to finish. Liz took his hand.
"That's not going to happen," she said, smiling. "Trust me."
"You don't know that!" Max exclaimed, leaping up. She remained seated calmly.
"I do."
"How?!"
"Max, would you just cut it out? You don't know my father. He's not going to do anything like that. And like I said, *even* if he does, I'll be fine. Now calm down."
He glared at her for a few seconds, then stalked off to his room. Liz looked after him worriedly. Phillip returned.
"You guys ready for bed? Max and Isabel have church. You want to come, Liz? Michael?"
"I have to open the restaurant. Dad said-"
"Right. Of course. Michael?"
"I think I'll help her..."
Isabel pouted. "You're going to make us sit through that whole thing by ourselves?"
Michael smirked. "I plan on it, yes."
Phillip lightly tapped his daughter's head. "Watch it, young lady. Your mother will hear."
Diane came in. "Your mother will hear what?"
"Nothing," Isabel said quickly, getting to her feet.
"Fine." Mrs. Evans narrowed her eyes. "Oh! Liz, honey, you'll need blankets- and a sheet."
"I'll get 'em," Isabel said. But before she could move, Max's door opened, and a few seconds later, he re-entered the room with a soft blanket and a sheet, which he handed to his mother, ignoring Liz. She watched him leave again, eyes dark.
"He's probably just tired, dear," Diane said. "Get up so I can put this stuff on the couch."
"That's all right. I can do it," Liz said quickly.
"Nonsense. You're a guest here. Up-up-up." She smiled at Liz, who obeyed. When she'd finished transforming the couch, she turned back to Liz. "Are those your pajamas?" she asked, confused.
"No."
"Didn't you bring any?"
"No, ma'm."
"Silly... Well, bring some clothes tomorrow, okay?"
Liz nodded, yawning.
"Well, goodnight, girls. Michael." Diane gathered Isabel into her arms for a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then, maybe on impulse, Liz. Was it just Michael, or did Diane hold on longer to Liz. And were those tears in her eyes before she hurried out of the room? He and Liz shared a glance, then looked up at Mr. Evans.
"She gets weird at night," he explained. "Goodnight Liz. Goodnight, Michael."
"Goodnight, John-Boy," Isabel said in a southern accent as she left the room. "'Night Momma. 'Night Grandpa. 'Night, Maryellen."
The three of them watched her leave, with some very odd looks on their faces. Mr. Evans blinked. "Okay...so it's hereditary in the female string of the Evanses." He winked and left.
"See you tomorrow," Michael said. Should he hug her now, or what?
"Yep."
They stood there awkwardly for a while, and for a split second, Michael flashed back to the scene in the restaurant. Could he do that again? He wondered what she'd do. Liz bit her lower lip. Was she maybe thinking the same thing? She took a step forward and hesitantly put her arms around his neck in a hug. His arms slid up around her waist, tightening in a bear hug. Liz laughed and pulled away.
"Night, Michael." He nodded and headed to Max's room. Max was sitting in his bed, flipping through a science magazine. Without looking at him, Michael dragged the sleeping bag out of the closet.
"I can't believe she's being so stupid," Max said, putting his magazine aside.
"Max, you don't get it. She doesn't want your help."
"She needs something."
"It's complicated."
"Yeah, you would say that."
"Excuse you?"
"Misery loves company and all that."
Michael was shocked. And pissed. "Explain, please?"
"You just want her to stay with her father because then you're not the only one. You don't want someone to save her because then who would you have to talk to?"
"Max, are you high?"
"No. And unlike you, I want to help her. I feel sorry for her."
"She doesn't want your pity. "
"How do you know?"
"She's told me." He thought for a second. "You're not going to tell anyone?"
Max sighed. "No. I promised her I wouldn't. I just really wish I hadn't, so I could."
"You do realize that that barely made sense?"
"I'm tired. Leave me alone."
Michael rolled his eyes and flipped the lights off.
"But...what if I could help her without telling anyone. Like I help you."
Michael sat bolt upright. "No. No. No. You are *not* telling her. You are *not* healing her. Ever. Never ever. We do not need anyone else knowing about that."
Max didn't answer. Michael sighed and lay down. He'd have to convince him that the whole idea was stupid tomorrow. Because tomorrow...Michael wouldn't be so tired... The last thing he thought before he'd slipped off to sleep was how Liz had felt pressed against him this morning, in the restaurant.
***
"Hey! Lazybutts! Get up!"
Michael heard someone yank the covers off of Max's bed, followed by Max groaning. Then he felt someone tugging on his sleeping bag. He groaned and tugged back, turning over. He heard a quiet screech, and felt that person fall over him, landing just an inch away from sitting on him, with her legs swung over his side. He opened an eye, to see Liz glaring at him.
"Good morning," he said sweetly. She narrowed her eyes. "You wanna get off me so I can get up?"
She chewed her lip, seemingly in thought. "No." She stretched out on the floor. So of course, he reached out to grab her ribs. She curled up, giggling. "Okay! I will! Just let me go!" she laughed, trying to push his hand away. He didn't budge, and Max joined him on Liz's other side. "No fair!" she gasped, laughing.
"What's no fair is you yanking the covers off when I was having a perfectly good dream," Max said, poking her exactly the way Michael was. They'd done this on Isabel thousands of times. They finally released her, and Michael tousled her hair. She stood, glaring, which made Max laugh.
"Good morning, Liz!" he chirped, grinning. She muttered something and headed out the door.
***
Later, after the Evanses had dropped Liz and Michael off at the restaurant and Liz had opened up, the two of them sat on the counter, swinging their legs and watching the empty street.
"So..." Michael said. "This is fun."
"It's because today's Sunday. People are at church. In a few hours, we should be crowded with people in suits and dresses, carrying Bibles.."
"Sounds great."
"It is."
They were quiet for a while, then Liz spoke up again. "So. How long have you known Max?"
"Practically our whole lives."
"Oh yeah. You were found on the same road."
"But at different times."
"Oh. Do you remember your birth parents at all?"
"No."
Liz nodded, looking at her hands. "Do you ever wonder what they were like?"
"I figure it doesn't do me any good-if they're alive, they're not coming back for me, so why bother?"
"That's...lonely."
Michael shrugged. "You get used to it."
The phone rang, and Liz leapt up to answer it. "Hello, this is the Crashdown Café, Liz speaking. How may I help you?" She listened for a moment, then turned around and sort of hunched over, lowering her voice. "Hi, Father. Yes. Well...no. There is no one here right now. I know. It is because of church, I would assume. Yes sir. I will. See you Thursday." She hung up and returned to the counter.
"That was your dad?"
She nodded. The conversation was nothing like what he'd overheard between Isabel or Max and their parents. Liz hadn't even told him she loved him.
"Liz, has your dad ever said he loved you?"
She was silent, looking at the far wall. "He must have, when I was little."
"But not lately?"
She shook her head. "Why?"
"Just wondering."
"Well, has Hank ever told *you* he loved you?"
"Are you high?"
She shrugged.
No more was said, and the after-church crowd came and went, leading them into twilight. Liz was leaning in the window, watching the empty street. After a while, her quiet voice broke the silence.
"If the Crashdown loses much more money, we have to move in with my dad's brother," she said pensively.
"Where does he live?"
"Nevada."
"Oh." He went to stand opposite her in the windowsill.
"I don't want to leave here," she said, her voice almost breaking.
"Why not?"
"I like Roswell. Everyone I love is here. Maria...Alex..." Why was he disappointed that she hadn't mentioned him? It wasn't like they were best friends... but still... Liz studied his face for a minute, then looked away.
"Wouldn't your uncle kind of keep your dad from..."
"I doubt it. My aunt...she... He's not real great to her either."
Geez. What, was domestic abuse hereditary? Liz sighed and sat down at a table.
"I'm just...really tired of this, Michael."
"What part?"
"All of it. My dad, my mom...the secrets...everything. Sometimes I just want to go tell-everybody."
"You should. Tell, I mean."
She scoffed. "Yeah. But it's complicated."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it is. I mean, he's my father. Aren't you supposed to honor your parents?"
"Only if you believe in fairy tales."
She scoffed again. "It's not just that. You see stuff like that-telling you to love your parents-everywhere."
"And do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Love your parents? Honestly."
She was silent. "I want to, Michael. I really, really want to." She thought for a while. "But how can I love a woman who just cut and ran-without even thinking about me? I mean, what am I going to do when he gets home, and everything settles down, and the Crashdown keeps going under? Mom could usually keep him from... And once he'd gone to sleep, she'd come into my room and tell me about how one night we'd pack up and leave for somewhere far away, so he wouldn't find us, and we could start over." She trailed off, sounding very small in the big room. "But she's already starting over."
He didn't know what to say-there was nothing that could make her feel better-so he reached out and took her hand. She looked at it for a second, the corners of her mouth tugging upward slightly. Then the phone rang. Michael looked at her expectantly, but she made no move to answer it.
"Dad said he wouldn't call again until Thursday, and the Crashdown is-" she looked at her watch. "Closed, technically, so I'm supposed to let the machine get it.
Sure enough, Mr. Parker's perky voice answered, saying how he was sorry the restaurant was closed, but if you'd like to leave your name, number, and a message, someone would get back to you just as soon as it opened again, and the caller began to leave the message. At the first syllable, Michael heard Liz's sharp intake of breath.
"Hi Lizzie. It's Mommy." A pause, probably where Nancy expected Liz to pick up the phone. Michael looked at Liz, who was studying the table without making a move towards the telephone. "Liz, I know you're home. He doesn't let you leave the house on school nights. Pick up the phone, baby." Liz still didn't move, so the woman sighed and went on. "Okay. I know you're mad at me. And you have every right to be. I was a cruddy mom, and then I left, with no warning." She sighed again. "And I know you think that he'll get worse, but if you just stay out of his way, you should be fine. Just-be more careful, baby. You know how he gets when you drop something. So, before you hate me, can you let me explain? I have a reason, Lizzie."
"What are you doing, Nancy? The longer we wait, the less likely we'll get in. You know how exclusive this club is." It was a male's voice, slightly muffled but completely audible.
"I'm coming, Rob. Just, let me finish this."
"Okay... But hurry."
"Liz, it's not what you think. I promise, I have a good reason." She paused again, and Liz stood, heading over to the phone. "I just couldn't-" her voice cut off as Liz picked up the receiver and slowly replaced it in the cradle, the message ending in a dial tone. She stood there, her head down, hand on the phone. Michael walked over to her and slid his arms around her, trying to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sniffling into his shoulder for what seemed like a long time, and then pulled away, brushing at his collar.
"I got you all wet," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry."
"No big. It'll dry. Are you going to be okay?"
She nodded. "I should probably go get my stuff before Mr. Evans gets here."
"I'll be down here."
She nodded and ascended the stairs to the apartment. Almost immediately afterwards, the Evanses' Jeep pulled up, and Mr. Evans headed inside.
"Hey, son. Where's Liz?"
"Packing."
"Ah. Why's your shirt wet?"
Aw, crap. Michael tugged at his collar so he could see it. It wasn't that wet-but leave it to Max's father to catch something like that. He shrugged, and Liz returned, her backpack on her shoulders and a small overnight bag in hand.
"Have you been crying, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked. This was uncanny. She looked cornered for a second, then shook her head.
"I think Jose was chopping onions today and when I was cleaning the kitchen, I got some of it in my eyes. It really hurts." She smiled and rubbed her eyes. God, was she a good liar. But not good enough, apparently. Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes, but let it go.
"You ready?"
She nodded.
"What about you, Michael? Ready to go home?"
He shrugged, and they left.
Email: NobodysFool2507@yahoo.com
Rating: PG, for a bit of language and implied violence.
Genre:Drama/Angst
Category: AU. Pre-shooting. Just a tad Polar, but absolutely nothing that would cause an uprising of Dreamer/Candy Fans.
Disclaimer: They're mine! All mine! *demented laughter* Ooor not. They're Jason Katims and Co.'s. Evil demons. They should be vanquished. *blissful grin* Ahhh, if only.. *cough* Move along, folks. No evil plotting to see here. *g*
Summary: A not-so-short AU fic. Thirteen-year-old Michael is out one night, trying to escape Hank's fury for a while, when he stumbles across someone he hadn't expected to see and realizes that things aren't always what they seem.
Spoilers: Guys, the show's over. If you haven't seen an ep, you're not gonna. Lol. I don't think there's any, though.
A/N: Figured since I hadn't updated in a while, I should try for two in the same week. Let's see if this works. And Phillip! I thought so! Thanks, diamondkitten (at PolarAttraction). Also, you guys shouldn't worry *too* much about anything *really* bad happening to Liz, since she's my most favoritest character. ...Yeah. Lol. Also, expect this story to maybe get a bit more Polar from this chapter on.
Things Aren't Always What They Seem
Chapter Four
Michael groaned as the sun snuck through his curtains and knocked on his eyelids. At least today was Saturday. He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow in hopes of sleeping for another few hours. Damn sun...
The phone rang, and Michael heard Hank swearing as he rose to answer it. Michael sat straight up as he realized that he was thundering towards his room. Hank slammed the door open.
"Phone," he growled. "And keep it down." He stomped away. Michael was puzzled as to why Hank hadn't hit him or anything, but then he heard a woman's voice in the next room and it all became clear. And gross. Shuddering, Michael trudged into the kitchen to pick up the phone.
"Yeah."
"Michael, we're going to the Crashdown for breakfast, and my parents want to know if you want to come."
"Gee, I had my day all planned out..."
"If you don't want to come, don't come."
Michael made a face and lowered his voice. "I'll come. Hank's got a chick over." He heard Max shudder loudly.
"Ew ew ew!"
"Exactly. I'll be over in five minutes."
Without even changing clothes (they didn't stink), Michael dashed out of the trailer.
***
"Hey, Michael. Were you running, son? We'd have waited for you."
Michael didn't answer-just ducked under Mr. Evans' arm, panting. Max, Isabel, and their mother joined the two men, and out they went.
"It looks like it's still closed," Isabel said, looking skeptically at the Crashdown's empty interior.
"Then why's music playing?" Max asked, looking at her like she was stupid. "Let's just go inside." He pushed the door open, and they stepped inside. Piano-rock was playing, accompanied by a few male singers and one familiar female voice.
"Piece by piece, and bit by bit
I'll break this down for you, real slow
But I can't whisper all of this
And I can't seem to let this go
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I can tell its your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes
Part and part and inch by inch
You'll have your mile when it's through
Incinerate what's left of this
and torch the part of me that's you
So I'll watch the matches, turn to ashes
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes
I can tell it's your turn, I smell the sulfur so clear
and fire's a beautiful sound
and the wings that you burn turn to ashes my dear
and ashes just fall to the ground
Yeah we're only ashes." She spun into view, belting out the last line. The song ended, and she looked up, turning a bright scarlet when she saw the five of them standing there. She smiled sheepishly, rubbing her eyebrow. "Um... hi. Lemme get your menus."
They sat down at a booth, and Liz returned.
"Quite a set of pipes you've got there," Mr. Evans said. Liz turned red again and handed them their menus.
"Thanks... Could you not tell my dad I was doing that? ...I'm not supposed to play music that loudly in the restaurant."
"Isn't he here?"
"No. He's gone to Santa Fe for five days."
Which would account for Liz's burst of enthusiasm. Phillip laughed and patted Liz's hand. "Your secret's safe with me."
"Thank you very much. Coffee?"
"Two decafs, please. Diane, you want any?"
"Har, har."
Liz left to get the coffee.
"She seems happy today," Mr. Evans said. His wife nodded.
"I wonder why she isn't like that more often."
"Is it just me, or does she always look scared?" Isabel asked, flipping through the menu.
"What on earth would she be scared of?" Mrs. Evans asked, laughing. "This is Roswell, New Mexico-the biggest thing you have to worry about is tourists looking for alien skulls!"
She shrugged, and Michael knew she was a bit rattled by her mother's words. He grabbed her hand under the table.
Liz returned, carefully setting the hot mugs on the table. "Half a cream and half an Equal each, just like you like it. Do you know what you'll have?"
They ordered, and just as Liz was walking away, Diane spoke up.
"Liz, honey, where's your mom? I have those books she wanted."
Liz stiffened and turned, and she and Michael locked eyes. Then she relaxed back into her disguise. "She's in Santa Fe with Dad."
"Oh... she didn't say anything about a business trip the last time I spoke with her."
"It was kind of sudden." Liz made an odd face, as though it hurt her to lie.
"Liz, could you do me a favor and give these to her when she gets back? If I take them back home with me, I'll end up never giving them to her."
Liz's eyes inexplicably filled with tears and she took the bag Mrs. Evans was holding out. "Sure thing." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Your order should be out in a few." Liz turned to leave again.
"Hey, wait."
Liz turned around again. "Yes?"
"Who's looking after you while your parents are gone?"
"Well, Jose's here in the daytime..."
"And at night?"
She shrugged. "I'm old enough."
"No. You're hardly thirteen years old-you're not staying alone for almost a week. Call your parents and ask them to let you stay with us."
"Mrs. Evans, thanks a lot, but I can really take care of myself..."
"I believe you sweetheart, but...could you just humor me? I'm an old woman. I worry."
"If you're sure...?" She looked at Mr. Evans, who looked at Isabel, who looked at Max, who nodded vigorously.
"It's fine with all of us. Call your dad."
Liz nodded and left. Michael heard her on the phone, quietly speaking with her father. After a while, she returned to the table.
"Mr. Evans, my dad wants to talk to you..."
"Of course he does!" He laughed and slid out of the booth.
"I can't believe they'd just leave you here alone like that!" Diane said, shaking her head. Liz didn't know how to answer that, apparently, so she nodded and headed back to the kitchen, while Mr. Evans returned to the table, looking back at her strangely.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing. She's staying with us..."
"Then, why do you look like that?"
"Geoff said Nancy isn't with him."
"Where is she?"
"He said she left for Tulsa two days ago."
"Then why'd she lie?"
He shrugged. Max and Michael shared a look, as Liz returned with their breakfast.
"It's all settled, honey. You're staying with us."
Liz nodded, keeping her eyes down.
"What's wrong?" Mrs. Evans asked.
"Nothing. Will there be anything else?"
"This should do it."
"Okay."
Michael quickly finished his (*gag*) Crash Alien Eggs (scrambled eggs), UFO toast (basically, toast with a UFO design on the front), and rocket fuel (orange juice), and went over to the counter, where Liz was reading. He pulled himself up so he was straddling the counter, watching her read.
"That's disgusting, Michael," Liz said, not looking up.
"What?"
"You've got your dirty combat boots all over the counter."
"I do not. Look."
She glanced up, then back at her book. "Fine. You've got your butt all over the counter."
"That can't be helped."
She rolled her eyes.
"Hey, why'd you lie to the Evanses about your mom?"
"Don't want their pity."
"I know the feeling... But they found out."
"How?"
"Your dad."
"Figures. Are they mad?"
"Confused."
"Lovely."
"What are you going to tell them?"
"That my dad hits me and my mom got fed up and ran away."
"Seriously?"
"Do I look like an idiot? I'll find something to tell them..."
"So you're going to lie to my parents," said a voice from behind them. Liz jerked her head up, and Michael looked. Max was standing there, arms crossed. He sat down.
"How much'd you just hear, Maxwell?"
"Just the part about how Liz is going to lie to my parents."
"Then you don't know what we're talking about."
"So tell me."
Michael glanced at Liz, who sighed and closed her book.
"You can't tell *anyone*, Max," Liz warned. Max nodded. "Good. See, sometimes running the Crashdown can get really stressful. You know- especially in the off-season when there aren't that many tourists. So my dad gets really cranky at about this time. And I, being me, tend to annoy him a lot."
"Bull, Liz. You're not annoying," Michael said. "Stop making excuses for him. Maxwell, her dad hits her."
Max was in shock, looking at Liz pityingly. She moaned and stepped back. "Don't look at me like that," she begged. Max looked away.
"Sorry. You mean, he *hits* hits you?"
Liz nodded, getting a rag and rubbing at the counter.
"I have to tell my parents."
"Don't." Liz said quietly.
"Why?"
"Max, if you consider yourself my friend, please don't tell."
Aha. Interesting. Using the friend card with the kid who practically worships you.
"Liz...I do. But what if he hurts you really bad one day?"
"He won't."
"How do you know?"
"He's my father... Can we talk about something else?"
Max nodded, looking upset. "What are you reading?"
"Jane Eyre."
"Interesting."
Liz rolled her eyes and smiled.
"Max, Michael, are you staying here?" Mr. Evans asked, handing Liz the money for breakfast. She quickly worked the cash register, handing him his change with a smile.
"I am, if that's all right with Liz?" Max asked hopefully. Liz nodded.
"I am too, then." Michael said. "Someone's gotta supervise."
Liz punched him in the arm, and Max just turned red. Michael pretended to swipe at Liz, but she jumped away.
"Okay. Have fun, you guys." He left.
"Why don't you sing more?" Max asked. Liz turned red and looked away.
"I do...just not in public."
"Why not?"
"I just don't." She shrugged.
"Fine then."
"Fine." She grinned, and Maria pushed through the door.
"Liz, I hope your rotten father is happy. Making a poor innocent girl get up at eleven on a Saturday morning. Jerky bum..." she continued complaining as she made her way into the locker room to change into her uniform. Liz rolled her eyes and waited for Maria to come out.
"Good morning, Sunshine," she said, putting her arm on Maria's shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. What's SpikeBoy doing here?"
"What's it look like, Freak?"
"Looks like you're getting your butt cooties all over the counter. Off. Now."
"Better do it, Michael. She'll beat you up," Max said. Michael rolled his eyes and hopped off.
"I suppose you want me to clear that table, huh, Liz?" Maria asked.
"Oh. Oops. No. I'll get it."
"That's fine. I got it. It's the Evanses', right?"
"Yeah..."
Maria headed over to clear their table.
"That's nice of her," Max said.
"Not really," Liz replied, snorting. "Your dad always leaves a big tip."
"So, Liz," Maria asked from across the restaurant. "How long will your dad be gone?"
"Not long enough," Liz muttered, then raised her voice. "Five days."
"Party at the Parker's," Maria said, dancing with the tray to the kitchen. "Wanna stay at my house?"
"Thanks, but I'm already staying with the Evanses."
"You're—how?"
"His parents got her first. Tough luck, freak," Michael said, heading to the radio to find a good station. After a while of searching, he found one playing Metallica.
"Ugh. Turn it off," Maria groaned, sliding up onto the counter.
"Nope."
"Then I will."
"Nope."
She rolled her eyes.
"Hey, how come you're allowed to put your butt cooties on the counter but I'm not?" Michael challenged.
"Because I work here."
He stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned the favor.
"Honestly guys, let's be as immature as we can," Liz muttered wryly.
"Liz, you can't be mature with this loser over here. It's, like he doesn't have a serious gene in his body."
"Then you two would be a perfect match."
"Ew!" Maria exclaimed, jumping off the counter. "Ew ew, ew ew ew!"
"No they wouldn't," Max said.
"Thank you, Romeo!" Maria said, glancing at Michael and taking a step away.
"I mean, can you imagine what their kids would be like? Four-year-olds their entire lives."
"True," Liz agreed. Maria shuddered loudly.
"Just shut up you guys! This is disgusting! Like I would ever have kids with SpikeBoy! That's about as probably as you and Michael kissing!"
"Probable, Maria."
"Whatever."
This was too good to pass up. "You wouldn't have kids with me, Maria?" Michael asked, hanging his head and going behind the counter to stand next to Liz. "That hurts, it really does."
Liz laughed and stroked his back. "There, now. Look what you've done. You've hurt his feelings."
Michael lifted his head and gave Liz a wicked little grin, which she returned. This wasn't lost on Max, who gasped. Before he really knew what he was doing, Michael had pulled Liz closer to him and tilted her head up, then he'd pressed his lips against hers. It was like an electric current had run through her and into him-just like something in one of Isabel's stupid romance books. Well...maybe in her romance novels, there wasn't a high- pitched screeching going on in the background...that sort of thing didn't really add to the atmosphere. He slowly pulled back, surreptitiously sliding an arm around Liz's back when he felt her teeter a little. He looked down her-her eyes were wide, and she was laughing. But not an 'omigod-this-guy-cannot-kiss' laugh, it was an 'omigod-I-cannot-believe- this-guy-just-kisssed-me', nervous-type laugh. Max's eyes were equally wide, and as he and Liz locked gazes, he started laughing too, which, of course, made Michael laugh a little. Not too much-he had a reputation to keep up, after all.
"Liz Parker, I cannot believe you just kissed SpikeBoy 'Jerkface' Guerin! Are you crazy? You have to get a rabies shot now!" Maria screeched, her face pale white.
"That's only if I'd bitten her, Freak," Michael said. But she was still flipping out.
"I don't even know who you are anymore! I can't look at you! This is disgusting! Ugh! Ew! Ew! Ew! What's wrong with you?!"
"Maria-Maria!" Liz exclaimed
"What?"
"Methinks the lady doth protesteth too much."
"Yeah, well, me thinks you doth be mentally ill!"
Liz rolled her eyes, and looked up as a young couple entered, taking them their menus.
"I have to go dig my eyes out with something now!" Maria exclaimed, heading into the kitchen.
"Use the family's spoons, and leave the restaurant's alone," Liz said over her shoulder, standing at the couple's table to take their drink orders.
"Elizabeth Claudia Parker, do not encourage that girl," Jose said, pushing Maria out of the kitchen and handing her an ice cream scooper. Maria made a face and set it down, approaching Michael and poking him in the chest.
"And you, you freak! What'd you go and kiss my best friend for?! What, do you think you're some kind of casa de never or something?"
"Casanova, Maria," Liz corrected, returning to the counter and filling two clean glasses with soda.
"Whatever."
"Calm down, Freak," Michael said. "You'll have a heart attack. It's not like I kissed *you*."
"You might as well have! Liz and I are practically the same person!"
"Maria, how do you know I didn't kiss him back? That means, essentially, you kissed him too."
"Let's stop sharing now," Max moaned, putting his head on the counter. Maria looked sick.
"Liz, I don't want to be best friends anymore, okay? Let's just be really, really, really good friends who tell each other everything but are two completely separate people, okay?"
"I can live with that."
"Good. I'm going to go...get some ice cream now, okay?" Maria picked up the ice cream scooper.
"Maria, it's not even lunchtime yet."
"After watching that, Liz, I think I deserve it." She headed into the kitchen, and, after a small 'discussion' with Jose, Maria returned, eating a small bowl of ice cream triumphantly. Jose stuck his head out.
"You guys, just so you know. I'm rigging up a booby trap in here, so if a particular Goldilocks comes in again, Mr. Parker will have to find another waitress."
"Don't call me Goldilocks, Jose," Maria chirped good-naturedly.
Max still had his head on the counter when Liz came back and handed Jose the order sheet. She laughed and patted his head. "We're not going to do it again... It's safe to look."
He raised his head and looked at her, then at Michael, then shook his head and laughed again.
"You two are so weird."
"But you like 'em," Maria piped in.
"Excuse you?" Michael asked. She realized what she'd said.
"Oh. Not like that... I mean, you're his friend, so he must like you somehow... and he likes Liz, so he likes both of you."
The three of them were silent, staring steadily at Maria. She got uncomfortable and stood. "Jose, unrig your booby trap...they're scaring me."
"Sorry, Goldilocks."
"Jerk. Guys, don't look at me like that. You know what I meant."
They started laughing.
The rest of the day was uneventful (well...as uneventful as a day with Maria DeLuca can possibly be), and just after closing time, Phillip came in.
"You three ready?"
They nodded, and on the way out, Liz froze.
"What?"
"I'll be right back." She dashed up the stairs and returned a minute later with her toothbrush. Michael rolled his eyes and held the door open for them. Liz, who was the last one out, locked the door before she climbed into the car next to Michael.
"How was it today?"
"Dead. Again." Liz answered. He laughed.
"Tourists are thinning out. Business'll pick up after a while."
Yeah. Tell that to her dad, apparently. Liz glanced worriedly over at him, as though she'd read his mind. That was so creepy. He made a face at her, and she laughed.
"What are you two doing back there?" Mr. Evans said mock-sternly, looking at them in the rearview mirror. Liz paled and looked out the window. Michael and Phillip locked eyes for a second, until Mr. Evans returned his eyes to the road. The car ride was silent-none of them were the kind of person who felt the need to talk just to fill the silence-and they soon arrived at the Evanses house.
"Find a place to put that-" Mr. Evans nodded at Liz's toothbrush and grinned. "And wash up for dinner."
"You can use the guest bathroom," Max said, pulling Liz through the hallway. "That's what Michael uses when he stays over." He took her toothbrush and plopped it in the cup next to the one Michael used, then smiled at Liz. She smiled back, and Max pulled her back through the hallway into the kitchen.
"She's here!" Max announced in the doorway, stepping aside to present Liz, who was looking absolutely mortified.
"God, Max. Calm down," Isabel said, rolling her eyes at Liz.
"Don't just stand there, Liz!" Mrs. Evans said, pulling out a chair. "Sit down! Glad to have you here."
Liz smiled uncomfortably, and Michael took a seat between her and Isabel. Once Diane had gotten everything on the table, she took her seat and held out her hands, signaling everyone else to do the same. He took Liz's hand, catching her eyes and making a mock-kissy face. She laughed silently and closed her eyes, squeezing his hand in admonition. The prayer finished, and everyone let go, passing each dish around the table.
After everyone had finished, Mrs. Evans stood to get the dishes. Liz immediately stood to help. Diane looked surprised, but didn't say a word.
"No game tonight," Phillip said, smiling. Michael saw Liz tense, and Mrs. Evans put an arm around her, laughing.
"He's kidding, honey."
"Let's go claim the TV," Michael whispered to Max, who nodded. "We'll be in the living room, Liz."
"Okay."
They went into the living room and sprawled out on various pieces of furniture.
"Hey Max?" Isabel asked, her voice low.
"What?"
"Do you know why Liz lied to Momma and Dad?"
Max and Michael shared a Look.
"You do. Why?"
"I can't tell you," Max said.
"Why?"
"I promised."
"Promised who?"
"Liz."
Isabel looked hurt. "Oh. I'm gonna go to my room."
"Izzy, no-"
"It's okay, Max. I understand."
"No, you don't." He sighed. "Come back."
"Maxwell, what are you doing?"
"I'm gonna tell her."
"You can't!"
"Why?"
"You promised Liz."
"This is my sister. Liz'll understand."
Michael didn't answer. Liz probably would, but that didn't make it right.
"So, why'd she lie?" Isabel asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.
"You can't tell anyone-not even Momma or Dad."
"...Okay."
"Promise."
"I promise."
"Liz's mom left them. She went to Oklahoma."
Isabel looked shocked "Why?"
"Because...I don't know exactly why, but it has something to do with the fact that her dad...he hits her."
"Mr. Parker hits Liz?"
"Yeah. Do not tell a soul."
"Someone should-what if he hurts her really bad?"
"That 's what I said. But she made me swear."
"Yeah, and look what happened," came a new, hurt, voice from the doorway. Max leapt up.
"Liz! I'm sorry!"
She was silent.
"Liz, it's Isabel. My sister. I had to tell her."
Liz nodded, still silent, and went to sit in the chair furthest from them, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"Liz, is it true?" Isabel asked quietly. Liz didn't answer, so Michael went over to kneel by her.
"Hey," he murmured. She looked at him, eyes teary. "It's okay. Isabel won't tell anyone."
"Too many people know," Liz mumbled fearfully. Michael rubbed her knee.
"No-just us three. We're not going to tell. I'm certainly not. Remember? We match?"
Liz glanced at his arm and nodded, sniffling, then looked over at the other two, who were watching worriedly.
"Don't blame him, Liz," Isabel said. "I made him."
Liz smiled and wiped her eyes. "It's okay."
"So...how long has he been doing...that?" Isabel asked.
Liz did the math in her head. "Um. Eight years, on and off," she answered quietly. That was longer than he'd been living with Hank, Michael realized with a start.
"And no one's ever found out?"
Liz shook her head.
"Okay, guys!" Boomed a voice from the doorway. "Who wants to play trivial pursuit? Women vs. Men!"
"Ha ha!" Isabel exclaimed. "We're gonna beat you guys!
"Only because you guys have Liz," Michael replied.
"But you guys have Max, so it's even."
Max turned red and helped his father set up the board, while Mrs. Evans looked at Michael and Liz. Michael realized that he was still kneeling next to her.
"Liz, honey, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you sitting like that?"
Liz looked down and her knees and slowly lowered her legs to the ground, looking back at Mrs. Evans as if to prove something.
"Come over here, silly," she said. "We have to work on our strategy if we're going to beat these men."
Liz hesitated, eyes dancing. "That shouldn't be too hard," she said softly, smiling tentatively. Michael threw a pillow at her, which she ducked, grinning wider.
"Did I just hear you *insult* my gender, young lady?" Mr. Evans asked, pretending to glare at her. Liz obviously knew he was kidding, but she still looked a bit scared as she nodded. "You know that for that, we have to beat you guys?" Liz's eyes widened a fraction. "In the game." She relaxed, and smiled. Max caught Michael's eyes, looking pleased that Liz was teasing them a little.
Despite all his big talk, the women beat the pants off the men, and, after Isabel's victory dance (which left Michael and Max on the floor, clutching their stomachs in laughter), the parents left the room, leaving the kids alone to talk.
"Liz, I have a question..." Isabel began hesitantly.
"So ask it." Liz said, though it was likely she already knew the question.
"Why don't you want anyone to know? About your dad?"
Liz shrugged. "I...because he-I just don't."
"Well, what if he hurts you really bad one day?"
"He won't."
"How do you know that?"
"Because...he just won't. I stay out of his way, most of the time. And if it ever comes down to that, I'm a fast runner." She smiled grimly.
Isabel looked unconvinced. "But what happened to your arm?"
Liz looked confused, until Michael reached over and rolled up her sleeve.
"I saw it at dinner. Just so you know, I think Momma saw it too."
"That's what that look was for," Liz said quietly. Michael held her arm in his lap, inspecting it.
"You didn't do this yourself, did you?"
She glared at him. "Michael, do I honestly look like I want to—" He knew she was going to say something like 'feel more pain'. "—cut myself?" She finished lamely.
"Then what happened?" Isabel asked. Michael had one idea-and the picture of Liz's father-at least three times her size-holding her down while he cut her made him sick. She pulled her arm away, reading his mind again.
"He...I was washing dishes."
"Huh?"
"There were a bunch of dishes in the bottom of the sink, but on top of them- kind of floating around in the water or something-were the silverware-you know...knives."
"Why didn't you take them out?" Max asked quietly.
"He told me I had to wash the dishes first..." Liz said, inspecting her palm. "I'd forgotten that the person who usually does it had the day off, so I had just kept piling the dishes in the sink... It was my fault, really. Before bed, he came and got me and told me to wash the dishes."
"How is that your fault?"
"I didn't look at the schedule. I should have known that Marco wasn't there."
"Liz, you don't even have to work there-you're thirteen. You shouldn't have known," Michael said angrily. "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" She asked.
"You always blame yourself. You don't *make* him hit you."
She fidgeted. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Why?"
"Someone might hear."
"Liz," Max began. "Maybe someone *needs* to hear."
She looked up sharply. "What?"
"If you don't do something, he'll get worse and worse, and you'll end up in the hospital. Or-" He trailed off, unable to finish. Liz took his hand.
"That's not going to happen," she said, smiling. "Trust me."
"You don't know that!" Max exclaimed, leaping up. She remained seated calmly.
"I do."
"How?!"
"Max, would you just cut it out? You don't know my father. He's not going to do anything like that. And like I said, *even* if he does, I'll be fine. Now calm down."
He glared at her for a few seconds, then stalked off to his room. Liz looked after him worriedly. Phillip returned.
"You guys ready for bed? Max and Isabel have church. You want to come, Liz? Michael?"
"I have to open the restaurant. Dad said-"
"Right. Of course. Michael?"
"I think I'll help her..."
Isabel pouted. "You're going to make us sit through that whole thing by ourselves?"
Michael smirked. "I plan on it, yes."
Phillip lightly tapped his daughter's head. "Watch it, young lady. Your mother will hear."
Diane came in. "Your mother will hear what?"
"Nothing," Isabel said quickly, getting to her feet.
"Fine." Mrs. Evans narrowed her eyes. "Oh! Liz, honey, you'll need blankets- and a sheet."
"I'll get 'em," Isabel said. But before she could move, Max's door opened, and a few seconds later, he re-entered the room with a soft blanket and a sheet, which he handed to his mother, ignoring Liz. She watched him leave again, eyes dark.
"He's probably just tired, dear," Diane said. "Get up so I can put this stuff on the couch."
"That's all right. I can do it," Liz said quickly.
"Nonsense. You're a guest here. Up-up-up." She smiled at Liz, who obeyed. When she'd finished transforming the couch, she turned back to Liz. "Are those your pajamas?" she asked, confused.
"No."
"Didn't you bring any?"
"No, ma'm."
"Silly... Well, bring some clothes tomorrow, okay?"
Liz nodded, yawning.
"Well, goodnight, girls. Michael." Diane gathered Isabel into her arms for a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then, maybe on impulse, Liz. Was it just Michael, or did Diane hold on longer to Liz. And were those tears in her eyes before she hurried out of the room? He and Liz shared a glance, then looked up at Mr. Evans.
"She gets weird at night," he explained. "Goodnight Liz. Goodnight, Michael."
"Goodnight, John-Boy," Isabel said in a southern accent as she left the room. "'Night Momma. 'Night Grandpa. 'Night, Maryellen."
The three of them watched her leave, with some very odd looks on their faces. Mr. Evans blinked. "Okay...so it's hereditary in the female string of the Evanses." He winked and left.
"See you tomorrow," Michael said. Should he hug her now, or what?
"Yep."
They stood there awkwardly for a while, and for a split second, Michael flashed back to the scene in the restaurant. Could he do that again? He wondered what she'd do. Liz bit her lower lip. Was she maybe thinking the same thing? She took a step forward and hesitantly put her arms around his neck in a hug. His arms slid up around her waist, tightening in a bear hug. Liz laughed and pulled away.
"Night, Michael." He nodded and headed to Max's room. Max was sitting in his bed, flipping through a science magazine. Without looking at him, Michael dragged the sleeping bag out of the closet.
"I can't believe she's being so stupid," Max said, putting his magazine aside.
"Max, you don't get it. She doesn't want your help."
"She needs something."
"It's complicated."
"Yeah, you would say that."
"Excuse you?"
"Misery loves company and all that."
Michael was shocked. And pissed. "Explain, please?"
"You just want her to stay with her father because then you're not the only one. You don't want someone to save her because then who would you have to talk to?"
"Max, are you high?"
"No. And unlike you, I want to help her. I feel sorry for her."
"She doesn't want your pity. "
"How do you know?"
"She's told me." He thought for a second. "You're not going to tell anyone?"
Max sighed. "No. I promised her I wouldn't. I just really wish I hadn't, so I could."
"You do realize that that barely made sense?"
"I'm tired. Leave me alone."
Michael rolled his eyes and flipped the lights off.
"But...what if I could help her without telling anyone. Like I help you."
Michael sat bolt upright. "No. No. No. You are *not* telling her. You are *not* healing her. Ever. Never ever. We do not need anyone else knowing about that."
Max didn't answer. Michael sighed and lay down. He'd have to convince him that the whole idea was stupid tomorrow. Because tomorrow...Michael wouldn't be so tired... The last thing he thought before he'd slipped off to sleep was how Liz had felt pressed against him this morning, in the restaurant.
***
"Hey! Lazybutts! Get up!"
Michael heard someone yank the covers off of Max's bed, followed by Max groaning. Then he felt someone tugging on his sleeping bag. He groaned and tugged back, turning over. He heard a quiet screech, and felt that person fall over him, landing just an inch away from sitting on him, with her legs swung over his side. He opened an eye, to see Liz glaring at him.
"Good morning," he said sweetly. She narrowed her eyes. "You wanna get off me so I can get up?"
She chewed her lip, seemingly in thought. "No." She stretched out on the floor. So of course, he reached out to grab her ribs. She curled up, giggling. "Okay! I will! Just let me go!" she laughed, trying to push his hand away. He didn't budge, and Max joined him on Liz's other side. "No fair!" she gasped, laughing.
"What's no fair is you yanking the covers off when I was having a perfectly good dream," Max said, poking her exactly the way Michael was. They'd done this on Isabel thousands of times. They finally released her, and Michael tousled her hair. She stood, glaring, which made Max laugh.
"Good morning, Liz!" he chirped, grinning. She muttered something and headed out the door.
***
Later, after the Evanses had dropped Liz and Michael off at the restaurant and Liz had opened up, the two of them sat on the counter, swinging their legs and watching the empty street.
"So..." Michael said. "This is fun."
"It's because today's Sunday. People are at church. In a few hours, we should be crowded with people in suits and dresses, carrying Bibles.."
"Sounds great."
"It is."
They were quiet for a while, then Liz spoke up again. "So. How long have you known Max?"
"Practically our whole lives."
"Oh yeah. You were found on the same road."
"But at different times."
"Oh. Do you remember your birth parents at all?"
"No."
Liz nodded, looking at her hands. "Do you ever wonder what they were like?"
"I figure it doesn't do me any good-if they're alive, they're not coming back for me, so why bother?"
"That's...lonely."
Michael shrugged. "You get used to it."
The phone rang, and Liz leapt up to answer it. "Hello, this is the Crashdown Café, Liz speaking. How may I help you?" She listened for a moment, then turned around and sort of hunched over, lowering her voice. "Hi, Father. Yes. Well...no. There is no one here right now. I know. It is because of church, I would assume. Yes sir. I will. See you Thursday." She hung up and returned to the counter.
"That was your dad?"
She nodded. The conversation was nothing like what he'd overheard between Isabel or Max and their parents. Liz hadn't even told him she loved him.
"Liz, has your dad ever said he loved you?"
She was silent, looking at the far wall. "He must have, when I was little."
"But not lately?"
She shook her head. "Why?"
"Just wondering."
"Well, has Hank ever told *you* he loved you?"
"Are you high?"
She shrugged.
No more was said, and the after-church crowd came and went, leading them into twilight. Liz was leaning in the window, watching the empty street. After a while, her quiet voice broke the silence.
"If the Crashdown loses much more money, we have to move in with my dad's brother," she said pensively.
"Where does he live?"
"Nevada."
"Oh." He went to stand opposite her in the windowsill.
"I don't want to leave here," she said, her voice almost breaking.
"Why not?"
"I like Roswell. Everyone I love is here. Maria...Alex..." Why was he disappointed that she hadn't mentioned him? It wasn't like they were best friends... but still... Liz studied his face for a minute, then looked away.
"Wouldn't your uncle kind of keep your dad from..."
"I doubt it. My aunt...she... He's not real great to her either."
Geez. What, was domestic abuse hereditary? Liz sighed and sat down at a table.
"I'm just...really tired of this, Michael."
"What part?"
"All of it. My dad, my mom...the secrets...everything. Sometimes I just want to go tell-everybody."
"You should. Tell, I mean."
She scoffed. "Yeah. But it's complicated."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it is. I mean, he's my father. Aren't you supposed to honor your parents?"
"Only if you believe in fairy tales."
She scoffed again. "It's not just that. You see stuff like that-telling you to love your parents-everywhere."
"And do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Love your parents? Honestly."
She was silent. "I want to, Michael. I really, really want to." She thought for a while. "But how can I love a woman who just cut and ran-without even thinking about me? I mean, what am I going to do when he gets home, and everything settles down, and the Crashdown keeps going under? Mom could usually keep him from... And once he'd gone to sleep, she'd come into my room and tell me about how one night we'd pack up and leave for somewhere far away, so he wouldn't find us, and we could start over." She trailed off, sounding very small in the big room. "But she's already starting over."
He didn't know what to say-there was nothing that could make her feel better-so he reached out and took her hand. She looked at it for a second, the corners of her mouth tugging upward slightly. Then the phone rang. Michael looked at her expectantly, but she made no move to answer it.
"Dad said he wouldn't call again until Thursday, and the Crashdown is-" she looked at her watch. "Closed, technically, so I'm supposed to let the machine get it.
Sure enough, Mr. Parker's perky voice answered, saying how he was sorry the restaurant was closed, but if you'd like to leave your name, number, and a message, someone would get back to you just as soon as it opened again, and the caller began to leave the message. At the first syllable, Michael heard Liz's sharp intake of breath.
"Hi Lizzie. It's Mommy." A pause, probably where Nancy expected Liz to pick up the phone. Michael looked at Liz, who was studying the table without making a move towards the telephone. "Liz, I know you're home. He doesn't let you leave the house on school nights. Pick up the phone, baby." Liz still didn't move, so the woman sighed and went on. "Okay. I know you're mad at me. And you have every right to be. I was a cruddy mom, and then I left, with no warning." She sighed again. "And I know you think that he'll get worse, but if you just stay out of his way, you should be fine. Just-be more careful, baby. You know how he gets when you drop something. So, before you hate me, can you let me explain? I have a reason, Lizzie."
"What are you doing, Nancy? The longer we wait, the less likely we'll get in. You know how exclusive this club is." It was a male's voice, slightly muffled but completely audible.
"I'm coming, Rob. Just, let me finish this."
"Okay... But hurry."
"Liz, it's not what you think. I promise, I have a good reason." She paused again, and Liz stood, heading over to the phone. "I just couldn't-" her voice cut off as Liz picked up the receiver and slowly replaced it in the cradle, the message ending in a dial tone. She stood there, her head down, hand on the phone. Michael walked over to her and slid his arms around her, trying to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sniffling into his shoulder for what seemed like a long time, and then pulled away, brushing at his collar.
"I got you all wet," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry."
"No big. It'll dry. Are you going to be okay?"
She nodded. "I should probably go get my stuff before Mr. Evans gets here."
"I'll be down here."
She nodded and ascended the stairs to the apartment. Almost immediately afterwards, the Evanses' Jeep pulled up, and Mr. Evans headed inside.
"Hey, son. Where's Liz?"
"Packing."
"Ah. Why's your shirt wet?"
Aw, crap. Michael tugged at his collar so he could see it. It wasn't that wet-but leave it to Max's father to catch something like that. He shrugged, and Liz returned, her backpack on her shoulders and a small overnight bag in hand.
"Have you been crying, Liz?" Mr. Evans asked. This was uncanny. She looked cornered for a second, then shook her head.
"I think Jose was chopping onions today and when I was cleaning the kitchen, I got some of it in my eyes. It really hurts." She smiled and rubbed her eyes. God, was she a good liar. But not good enough, apparently. Mr. Evans narrowed his eyes, but let it go.
"You ready?"
She nodded.
"What about you, Michael? Ready to go home?"
He shrugged, and they left.