posted on 25-Jun-2002 2:46:45 AM by sugarplum17
Title: In the Loop

Author: Lynn

Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell, it's Pilot, the characters, or anything else Roswell related. It's all owned by Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and probably a couple of studios too. No harm intended.

Summary: The Pilot redone, my way.

Author's Note(s): Okay, so this is kind of weird, and it's set during The Pilot. I just got this idea while watching the X Files on FX and I just had to write it. It's only going to be like four parts or so, so don't worry, this won't interfere with any of my other fics. Plus I wanted to experiment with another style of writing.

***
Part One


September 19, 1999
Crashdown Café



Liz Parker walks to two tourists and hands them their order. “Okay, I have got one Sigourney Weaver, that's for you. And one Will Smith. Can I get you guys anything else? Green Martian Shake? Blood of Alien smoothie?”

“No thanks. We’re good.” Larry the tourist says to her.

She has worked in the restaurant all her life, and she can spot a tourist from a mile away, but she decides to mess with these two a little bit, knowing what they will ask her if she does. “Are you guys here for the Crash Festival?”

“Yeah, can’t wait.” Jennifer the second tourist says to her. She waits for a second or two before asking a question of her own. Her curiosity has gotten the better of her and although she and Larry said that they weren’t going to ask this girl, she can’t help herself. “So...does your family come from Roswell?”

Liz smiles to herself and thinks, suckers. “Just four generations.” She tells them trying her best to sound sincere.

Larry has become antsy, his curiosity is getting the better of him as well. His interest is piqued now. “Uh, well, does anyone in your family have stories about the UFO crash?”

She looks around them, half for show and half looking for her dad. He’s warned her about this, many times before. “Well, I guess it would be okay to show you guys this...” She pulls a picture of a fake alien from the pocket of her apron and shows it to them, all the while wanting to laugh at the looks on their faces.

Maria Deluca walks behind Liz, and looks over her shoulder, smiling as she holds the coffee pot in her hand and walks away shaking her head. There are two men at one of her tables, and things between them are looking heated. She doesn’t want to go over there, but it’s her job. She must. “Refill?” She asks them as politely as she possibly can.

“No, get outta here.” The man she thinks resembles a beefy Butthead says to her, waving her off as if she were a fly.

She gives him a look before walking away and wondering why some people are such jerks.

“My grandmother took this picture at the crash sight RIGHT before the government cleaned it up.” Liz lies to her patrons. She can’t believe how gullible these people are. It doesn’t even look like a real alien! Not that she’s ever seen one before.

“Do people know about this photograph?” Jennifer asks as she holds it in her hand, completely awestruck by the black and white picture.

“Well, I know about it and now you know about it.” Liz says matter-o-factly. She still wants to laugh, but she’s a good actress and manages to keep a straight face. Her facade is starting to crumble though.

“Whoa!” Larry says as he looks back and forth from the picture, to his waitress to his girlfriend.

Jennifer concurs with, “Wow!”

Leaning into the table Liz tells them, “I’ll be right back, don’t show that to anyone.”

“No...” Jennifer says, shaking her head. She and Larry share a look as their petite young waitress walk away. They’re already plotting on how they’re going to steal the picture that she’s given them to hold onto.

As Liz and Maria head up toward the register, they meet and walk there together. “You are sooo bad girl. Oh, and Max Evans is staring at you again.”

“No way.” Liz says in a state of disbelief. Maria is always saying things like that. About her and Max. “Maria, that is so in your imagination.”

She looks over to where Max is sitting with his friend Michael Guerin in a booth at the far end of the restaurant, and catches him as he looks at her then quickly looks away. “Max Evans? This? No un uh...it’s not...”

“And with those cheeks!” Maria interrupts as she pinches Liz’s cheeks. “Preciosita tan linda!”

Liz is embarrassed, and flushes as she pushes Maria’s hands away from her face. “Maria!!”

She secretly wants it to be true, what Maria says about Max. But she thinks, how could it be? “And, and even he is I'm going out with Kyle. I mean, he's steady and loyal, and he appreciates me.”

She forgot to mention how bored she is when she’s with him. How it’s all she can do not to fall asleep when he’s talking about himself, or about football.

“Sounds like you're describing a poodle.” And she knows that Maria is right. Kyle is a poodle. But he’s the only poodle who’s ever shown interest. She’s always been Lizzie Parker, science geek extraordinaire!

And suddenly one of the men in Maria’s section, the beefy Butthead, he begins to yell. “.....you ask me to give you another day!!?? You're running outta time.” And he’s knocking things off of the table, scaring her and Liz.

“Liz!” She doesn’t know what to do, and Liz is standing there like a deer caught in head lights. She’s scared. In all the years she’s worked at the Crashdown Café, a tiny alien themed restaurant owned by her best friend’s father, she has never had to deal with shit like this.

Beefy Butthead is yelling again saying to the man who Maria thinks resembles a muscular Beavis, “I want the money today. NOT tomorrow!”

Muscular Beavis is standing up and pulling out a gun, and the whole restaurant is scared. Everyone drops to the floor except for Liz. The gun goes off and she falls to the floor. Beefy Butthead and Muscular Beavis run off.

Maria is scared. “Liz...”

Max is looking at this slip of a girl whom he loves, who is now laying on the floor. He can see the blood on her uniform and he knows that she’s been shot. She’s going to die. He moves to stand up but Michael reaches out and grabs his arm.

Confused, Max turns to his friend and asks, “What are you doing? Let go of me.”

But Michael doesn’t.




[ edited 6 time(s), last at 3-Jul-2002 4:20:10 AM ]
posted on 25-Jun-2002 3:05:00 PM by sugarplum17
AN: I hope I don't confuse people with this. It looks like it's the same part, but it's not.
***


Part Two


September 19, 1999
Crashdown Café



Liz Parker walks to two tourists and hands them their order. “Okay, I have got one Sigourney Weaver, that's for you. And one Will Smith. Can I get you guys anything else? Green Martian Shake? Blood of Alien smoothie?”

“No thanks. We’re good.” Larry the tourist says to her.

She has worked in the restaurant all her life, and she can spot a tourist from a mile away, but she decides to mess with these two a little bit, knowing what they will ask her if she does. “Are you guys here for the Crash Festival?”

“Yeah, can’t wait.” Jennifer the second tourist says to her. She waits for a second or two before asking a question of her own. Her curiosity has gotten the better of her and although she and Larry said that they weren’t going to ask this girl, she can’t help herself. “So . . . does your family come from Roswell?”

Liz smiles to herself and thinks, suckers. “Just four generations.” She tells them trying her best to sound sincere.

Larry has become antsy. His curiosity is getting the better of him as well. His interest is piqued now. “Uh, well, does anyone in your family have stories about the UFO crash?”

She looks around them, half for show and half looking for her dad. He’s warned her about this, many times before. “Well, I guess it would be okay to show you guys this . . . ” She pulls a picture of a fake alien from the pocket of her apron and shows it to them, all the while wanting to laugh at the looks on their faces.

Maria Deluca walks behind Liz, and looks over her shoulder, smiling as she holds the coffee pot in her hand and walks away shaking her head. There are two men at one of her tables, and things between them are looking heated. She doesn’t want to go over there, but it’s her job. She must. “Refill?” She asks them as politely as she possibly can.

“No, get outta here.” The man she thinks resembles a beefy Butthead says to her, waving her off as if she were a fly.

She gives a look, but it’s not directed toward him. She feels strange. Almost as if she has lived this moment before. Turning around, she starts walking up toward the register, and half way there, she meets Liz and they walk together.

They begin to talk about Max Evans and how he’s staring at Liz again. Maria knows that Max wants Liz. It’s like so obvious. And because she’s been Liz’s best friend since like, the womb, she knows that Liz secretly wants him too.

Pinching Liz’s cheeks feels strange, she’s done it a million and one times before, but this time it feels different. And when she calls Kyle a poodle, she has a weird sense of deja vu.

“Wow.” Maria says to Liz. “I just had the weirdest sense of deja vu.”

And suddenly Maria’s Beefy Butthead is yelling. He’s knocking things off of the table and the man he’s sitting with, the one she thinks looks like a muscular Beavis, he’s pulling out a gun.

Maria knows what’s going to happen, some how, before the gun even clears the guy’s pants. While everyone else is dropping to the floor, she’s standing infront of Liz, her best friend. She’s going to get shot, and she knows it. She’s going to die.

She falls back into Liz, who is falling to her knees with the dead weight of her friend. Maria is scared. “Liz . . . ”

“Maria! Maria, look at me. You have to look at me. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be alright.” Liz tells her frantically, while smoothing back the girl’s short blonde locks.

“Somebody help her!” Liz screams out, looking around. Her moist eyes land on Max Evans, sitting in his booth, looking at them. “Please!”


Max is looking at her. Her eyes are shining with unshed tears, he knows she wants to let them drop, but that she feels she has to be strong for Maria. He knows all about their relationship, he knows because he’s spent years watching them, more specifically watching Liz. Maria is the one who breaks under pressure. Maria is the one who cries. But Liz, she’s strong.

He wants to get up and help her. He knows there’s still time, even as he sees the blood soaking into the teal material of her uniform. He can save the friend of the woman he loves from afar, and maybe then, he wouldn’t have to love her from afar anymore? Maybe then he could love her up close and personal? He moves to stand up, but is stopped by Michael’s hand on his upper arm.

Confused, Max turns to his friend and asks, “What are you doing? Let go of me.”

But Michael doesn’t. And before the ambulance can even leave the parking garage, Maria Deluca has faded away.



[ edited 1 time(s), last at 25-Jun-2002 3:05:28 PM ]
posted on 25-Jun-2002 7:44:56 PM by sugarplum17
Sure that's no problem. Give me some time to think up a new title, and I'll change it. *happy*
posted on 3-Jul-2002 4:14:52 AM by sugarplum17
Part Three



September 19, 1999
Trailer Park

“Though fairy tales end after ten pages, our lives do not. We are multi-volume sets. In our lives, even though one episode might culminate in a crash and burn, there is always another episode awaiting us, and then another. There are always more opportunities to get it right, to fashion our lives in the ways we soulfully deserve. Do not waste your time hating a failure. Failure is a greater teacher than success. Listen. Learn. Go on. That is every tale’s essence. As we listen to these ancient messages, we learn about deteriorative patterns, and we learn to go on with the strength of one who senses traps, cages, and baitsbefore we are upon them, or caught in them.”



Michael Guerin rolls his eyes at the passage in the book he’s just begun to read and quickly leafs through the introduction to Tales of the Brothers Grimm. He only wants to read what everyone else considers fairy tales. He doesn’t believe that they were fiction. He doesn’t believe that anything is fiction. Because he knows that if he believed in fiction then he himself would be considered fiction. And fiction he is not. He walks, he breathes, he bleeds when cut. Not that he likes to be cut, but it happens from time to time when Hank gets carried away with the beating.

He’s not more than two words into the page when there’s a knock on the trailer door. Nobody ever knocks on the door to his trailer. So naturally, he’s confused. When he opens the door, he’s confused even more. This girl who stands on the bottom step, she hates him, and he hates her.

They stand and stare at one another for a while before he asks, “What the hell do you want?”

He’s momentarily confused by why she doesn’t respond in the normal Maria Deluca manner. She doesn’t scoff at him, and isn’t taken aback. Almost as if she was anticipating the question. Like she knew it was coming. When she remains silent, he raises an eyebrow and leans against the door, folding his arms over his broad chest.


She breathes in a large amount of air and holds it, thinking to herself how she would rather poke out her eye than be here. But she needs to be here. She’s examined it from every angle. He’s the variable. He’s the one who tips the scale either toward life or toward death. For her, for Alex, for Liz. She hates to admit it, both him and to herself, but she needs him.

“I need your help.” She breathes out finally. “Can I come in?”

He looks at her oddly, wondering why she wants to come into his trailer and then he remembers Hank, who is laying passed out in the living room. Peering into the house from over his shoulder, Michael sees Hank’s white beer belly exposed and jiggling slightly with the light snore that escapes his mouth. And suddenly he’s embarrassed. The man on the floor is sweating profusely in his unconscious, drunken state.

“No.” He tells her, turning around to face her. He takes pleasure in her look of annoyance. He realizes that it took a lot for her to swallow her pride and come to him, and his curiosity over why she did is getting the better of him, so he reaches behind him and pulls the door shut.

She backs up as he comes forward, confused by his action. She wonders if he’s going to be the typical Michael Guerin that she knows him to be and walk away from her, and with a frustrated sigh she watches him turn and walk away.

“You comin?” He asks moodily over his shoulder.

Maria has to trot to keep up with him. His legs are longer than hers. When she looks at him closely, she notices that everything on him is bigger than her. His hand is humongous! She shakes her head. Now is not the time to be noticing his big hands, especially not when her life as well as the lives of her friends hang in the balance.

“So Michael. This thing that I need help with, it’s gonna sound crazy, I mean really crazy, but you have to trust me alright?” She asks him hurriedly. She’s slightly winded. “Don’t like, make fun of me and don’t think I’m making it up, because I couldn’t even make this up if I wanted to. It’s just too strange to be a made up story. If it were a story, it’d be like, the story of the mi-”

He rolls his eyes as she rambles on. “Will you just shut up and tell me?” He asks impatiently.

“There’s no need to bite my head off!” Maria responds, annoyed by his abrupt interruption. She hates it when people interrupt her! “And slow down! I can’t keep up with you when you’re running like a frickin cheetah.”

“A cheetah? That’s great.” Michael runs his hands through his hair thinking to himself how annoying this girl beside him really is. But never the less, he slows his pace.

“Okay.” Maria starts, smoothing down her shirt. She doesn’t know why she suddenly cares what this punk thinks, or why she feels like she needs his acceptance. “So, I don’t know how to begin this little dialogue...so I’m just gonna come out and say it. We’re in hell Michael.”

“Yeah no shit.” He mumbles before looking away. It goes unheard by Maria.

“We’re like doomed to repeat this same day over and over again. You’ve heard of deja vu right?” She asks him, not bothering to wait for his response. “Well, I’ve experienced this odd sense of deja vu like, four times now. It’s not exactly the same every time, because you know, little things here and there are different, but the out come is always the same. Somebody always dies.”

He listens to her, wondering if she inhaled the whole bottle of her cedar oil. He gets a mental image of Maria with the little brown bottle stuck up one of her nostrils and laughs.

“Don’t laugh Michael, I’m telling the truth!” She stops in her tracks and puts her hands on her hips. How dare him! “And I’m not even finished!”

He shrugs as if he didn’t do anything. He doesn’t apologize because Michael Guerin never apologizes - to anyone. Except for maybe Isabel, because she’s scary when she’s mad. “So finish.”

“Ugh, you are like the most impossible person to talk to!” Maria says as she throws her hands up in the air, frustrated by him to the breaking point. “Shut up and listen, no more laughing, no rude comments.”

“Now, like I was saying, we’re trapped in this like...I don’t know, this loop or something. It just keeps happening, over and over. The first time, it was Liz. The second time, it was me. I died.” She tells him, emphasizing that point.

“The third time it was Alex. He came by because I mentioned something to him about how I felt like something was going to happen that day, or today or whatever, and he got shot. We all got shot actually. Anyway, the fourth time, it was Mr. Parker.” She takes a deep breath before she continues. “I got him shot too...I told him to keep an eye on these two burly customers. The ones that shot us, and well...he did.”

“How does this warrant you coming to me for my help?” He asks somewhat snottily. He doesn’t see how any of this has to do with him. “And how do you know that we’re all in this loop?”

“I knew this morning that my mom was gonna stub her toe.” Maria says matter-o-factly. “She’s done it like a million times, but I knew that she was gonna do it today. I predicted it.”

“So?”

She sighs. “So today I knew that our toilet was gonna break and flood the bathroom floor. I also knew the plumber is sick. I told her, and she called anyway, and sure enough Jeffery Oates was sick.”

“You probably saw him yesterday.” Michael shoots back. Thinking this whole story is ludicrous. He knows that it’s probably possible, because if being stuck in a loop isn’t possible than how is he possible? But he’s sure it’s not happening today.

“Whatever.” She answers curtly, as they turn the corner and come to a stop at the trailer park’s joke of a park. A rusty swing set and slide, and a sandbox that Maria wouldn’t even let Marcus Whitman - Alex’s annoying little cousin - play in. “I came to you because I’ve examined this thing from every possible angle. I’ve watched everyone in the restaurant. And the same thing happens every time.”

He rolls his eyes as he walks toward a rusty swing and sits down. “What would that be?”

“You’re gonna have rust stains on your clothes, you know.” She tells him. “They won’t come out.”

“Isabel will get em out.” He says as he shrugs his shoulders.

Maria rolls her eyes. “What with her magic hands?”

“Yeah. With her magic hands.”

She rolls her eyes again before walking toward his swing. She’s definitely NOT going to sit on those dirty ass swings, but she doesn’t want to be shouting across the dead grass either. “Whatever.”

“So are you gonna tell me or are you just gonna bitch at me about rust stains?” Michael asks peering up at her and squinting his eyes. From that angle, with the sun shining behind her, she could almost pass for pretty.

“You. You happen.” She tells him. “Max, for whatever reason moves to stand up. You stop him.”

A tremor of panic runs through Michael. Does she know? Have they been exposed? And most importantly would she tell? Michael is worried, but he doesn’t let it show. He decides to get a hold of Max and Isabel immediately after she leaves. He knows their time is up in Roswell. “So? What do you think Max is gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know what I think he’s gonna do.” She says quietly. “But it’s clear that he wants to do something, and that you stop him from doing it. I thought maybe if you didn’t...things might turn out differently the next time around.”

“Are you on drugs?” Michael asks as he stands up from the swing. “I mean, did you even listen to yourself when you told me this ridiculous story?!”

She’s about to say something to him, but he cuts her off. “You’re crazy!” And then he starts to walk away from her, back to his trailer.

“I’m not crazy!” She yells after him. “Mark my words Michael! You’re gonna go to the Crash with Max today, two men are gonna fight and one of em is gonna pull out a gun!”

She runs after him. “Just let him help! Let him do whatever it is that he’s gonna do!”

He whirls around on her, it catches her off guard and she falters and almost falls backward. She gasps when he reaches out and grabs her upper arm, and holds her breath when he pulls her closer to him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Someone is gonna die Michael.” She whispers. She knows that he can probably feel her breath on his face, and hopes that it doesn’t smell bad. “And tomorrow we’re gonna get up and do it all again.”

“Says you.” He whispers back angrily and as he releases her arm he pushes her back slightly. Not enough to hurt her or make her fall, but just enough to make her move away from him.

***


September 19, 1999
Crashdown Café



Liz Parker walks to two tourists and hands them their order. “Okay, I have got one Sigourney Weaver, that's for you. And one Will Smith. Can I get you guys anything else? Green Martian Shake? Blood of Alien smoothie?”

“No thanks. We’re good.” Larry the tourist says to her.

She has worked in the restaurant all her life, and she can spot a tourist from a mile away, but she decides to mess with these two a little bit, knowing what they will ask her if she does. “Are you guys here for the Crash Festival?”

“Yeah, can’t wait.” Jennifer the second tourist says to her. She waits for a second or two before asking a question of her own. Her curiosity has gotten the better of her and although she and Larry said that they weren’t going to ask this girl, she can’t help herself. “So...does your family come from Roswell?”

Liz smiles to herself and thinks, suckers. “Just four generations.” She tells them trying her best to sound sincere.

Larry has become antsy, his curiosity is getting the better of him as well. His interest is piqued now. “Uh, well, does anyone in your family have stories about the UFO crash?”

She looks around them, half for show and half looking for her dad. He’s warned her about this, many times before. “Well, I guess it would be okay to show you guys this...” She pulls a picture of a fake alien from the pocket of her apron and shows it to them, all the while wanting to laugh at the looks on their faces.

Maria Deluca walks behind Liz, and looks over her shoulder, smiling as she holds the coffee pot in her hand and walks away shaking her head. There are two men at one of her tables, and things between them are looking heated. She doesn’t want to go over there, but it’s her job. She must. “Refill?” She asks them as politely as she possibly can.

“No, get outta here.” The man she thinks resembles a beefy Butthead says to her, waving her off as if she were a fly.

She gives him a look before walking away and wondering why some people are such jerks.

“My grandmother took this picture at the crash sight RIGHT before the government cleaned it up.” Liz lies to her patrons. She can’t believe how gullible these people are. It doesn’t even look like a real alien! Not that she’s ever seen one before.

“Do people know about this photograph?” Jennifer asks as she holds it in her hand, completely awestruck by the black and white picture.

“Well, I know about it and now you know about it.” Liz says matter-o-factly. She still wants to laugh, but she’s a good actress and manages to keep a straight face. Her facade is starting to crumble though.

“Whoa!” Larry says as he looks back and forth from the picture, to his waitress to his girlfriend.

Jennifer concurs with, “Wow!”

Leaning into the table Liz tells them, “I’ll be right back, don’t show that to anyone.”

“No...” Jennifer says, shaking her head. She and Larry share a look as their petite young waitress walk away. They’re already plotting on how they’re going to steal the picture that she’s given them to hold onto.

As Liz and Maria head up toward the register, they meet and walk there together. “You are sooo bad girl. Oh, and Max Evans is staring at you again.”

“No way.” Liz says in a state of disbelief. Maria is always saying things like that. About her and Max. “Maria, that is so in your imagination.”

She looks over to where Max is sitting with his friend Michael Guerin in a booth at the far end of the restaurant, and catches him as he looks at her then quickly looks away. “Max Evans? This? No un uh...it’s not...”

“And with those cheeks!” Maria interrupts as she pinches Liz’s cheeks. “Preciosita tan linda!”

Liz is embarrassed, and flushes as she pushes Maria’s hands away from her face. “Maria!!”
She secretly wants it to be true, what Maria says about Max. But she thinks, how could it be? “And, and even he is I'm going out with Kyle. I mean, he's steady and loyal, and he appreciates me.”

She forgot to mention how bored she is when she’s with him. How it’s all she can do not to fall asleep when he’s talking about himself, or about football.

“Sounds like you're describing a poodle.” And she knows that Maria is right. Kyle is a poodle. But he’s the only poodle who’s ever shown interest. She’s always been Lizzie Parker, science geek extraordinaire!

And suddenly one of the men in Maria’s section, the beefy Butthead, he begins to yell. “.....you ask me to give you another day!!?? You're running outta time.” And he’s knocking things off of the table, scaring her and Liz.

“Liz!” She doesn’t know what to do, and Liz is standing there like a deer caught in head lights. She’s scared. In all the years she’s worked at the Crashdown Café, a tiny alien themed restaurant owned by her best friend’s father, she has never had to deal with shit like this.

Beefy Butthead is yelling again saying to the man who Maria thinks resembles a muscular Beavis, “I want the money today. NOT tomorrow!”

Muscular Beavis is standing up and pulling out a gun, and the whole restaurant is scared. Everyone drops to the floor except for Liz. The gun goes off and she falls to the floor. Beefy Butthead and Muscular Beavis run off.

Maria is scared. “Liz...”

Max is looking at this slip of a girl whom he loves, who is now laying on the floor. He can see the blood on her uniform and he knows that she’s been shot. She’s going to die. He moves to stand up but Michael reaches out and grabs his arm.

Confused, Max turns to his friend and asks, “What are you doing? Let go of me.”

And this time...Michael does.



He watches everything that unfolds in the aftermath of his decision and knows that it was the right one to make. From the look on Maria’s face, she doesn’t remember their earlier encounter. She doesn’t remember the deja vu. He somehow knows that he’ll be the only one with the knowledge of a day in September of ‘99 when things didn’t happen as they were supposed to.



The End!


Hope ya liked it boys and girls. *wink* The quote in this part was taken directly from Tales of the Brothers Grimm which was edited, selected, and introduced by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D.


[ edited 3 time(s), last at 3-Jul-2002 4:42:36 AM ]
posted on 4-Jul-2002 4:43:38 AM by sugarplum17
Thank you for the feedback! *big*