|posted on 25-Jun-2002 10:00:22 PM by Chrisken|
|Title: "Not sure yet." (Yes, that's a title.)|
Author: Chris Kenworthy
Series: Roswell Dreams. Sequel to 'In another world.'
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or premise of 'Roswell,' look for Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, or the Fox head honchos. I just write stories here. :]
Category: Alt universe, skewed reality season 1. UC couples leading to CC couples.
Spoilers: Pilot and 'Morning after'
Dedication: For everybody I met the first time writing 'In another world.'
Memories of the last few days hit Liz Parker slowly as she woke up, like a big sponge ball. At first she actually didn't remember that anything was different, and then it started coming back to her. Getting shot in the cafe. Max Evans healing her. Finding out Max and his friends were aliens. Being interrogated by Sheriff Valenti. Spilling the secret to Alex Whitman. How the six of them, herself, Alex, Max, Max's sister Isabel, Michael Guerin, and Tess Martin, had worked together on a plan to lead Valenti's suspicions away from the real aliens and towards his son, Kyle Valenti, and Maria DeLucca -- The two teenagers that Valenti couldn't believe evil of. Alex asking her out.
Liz stretched and got up out of bed. It was six thirty in the morning - too early to be getting ready for school. She put a robe on and walked over to the new computer in the corner of her room. Her father had agreed to pay three quarters of the price for Liz to have a computer 'for the new school year,' if she made up the rest out of her paycheck. Sitting down into the chair and hitting a key at random, Liz brought the machine out of standby.
To Liz's surprise, she found herself creating a password-protected file called 'Journal.' Well, why not? It might help her to sort things out to see them commited to the white page, as it were, and doing it on the computer was probably the best way of making sure the information never accidentally fell into the wrong hands. Checking behind her as if to make sure that there weren't any bugs (though if anyone *were* spying on her the cameras wouldn't be obvious of course,) Liz started typing.
"There are so many things I'm feeling right now, it's hard to even count them all. Even though I know very well just how different Max Evans and I are, it's impossible for me to let go of the notion that a very deep, very powerful bond between us was forged in the past few days. I wonder if he feels it too?
"Then, there are Max's 'friends.' Isabel, Michael, Tess. They seem to resent what Max told me - resent that he's let me into his life in this small way. But I suppose I'd feel pretty upset too if I were in their place. What did Max mean when he said that it was 'instinct' that brought him and Tess together? What were those dreams he talked about like?!
"And then there's Alex. Don't get me wrong -- I'm psyched that we've gotten out of our little holding pattern, but there's a little part deep inside of me that I think keeps comparing Alex to Max. Why would I be doing that?"
After a good half a minute, Liz couldn't come up with anything else to add to her first journal entry. So she tagged on the date and time, closed the file under its password barrier, and started getting dressed. She could help out with waiting tables for breakfast and maybe pick up some tips.
* * * * *
Max Evans realized that he felt a little carefree as he turned into the driveway next to an affluent house in north Roswell. He jumped out of the driver's seat, took the porch stairs two at a time, reached out to knock on the oak wooden door -- and got his hand bashed in as the door swung open without warning.
"Oh, hey Max!!" It was Carol Martin, Tess' adoptive mother, running out of her house and trying to carry a black briefcase, a grocery bag, and a gym bag all at once. Something seemed on the verge of slipping between her fingers, though it was hard to tell quite which it would be.
"Can I help you with something?" Max asked politely. Miss Martin smiled gratefully and handed him the grocery and gym bags.
"No, don't worry about that," she muttered as Max took a reflexive step back towards the porch stairs and Miss Martin's car. "Just let me get organized here, and then I can manage to get all my junk to the car." She smoothed down her suit jacket and held out her right arm. "Gym bag." Max proferred it, and following Miss Martin's unspoken cues pushed it onto her arm, up to the elbow. "Tess just came down to breakfast when I left, go ahead and join her. Lunch." Max handed over the grocery bag. "I wouldn't be leaving so soon, but we've got a sales pitch to deliver at nine and nothing is ready. Talk to you another time Max!!" She hurried down the stairs, unlocking her Mercedes with the keyless remote and heading towards the back seat.
Max shrugged and headed on inside.
Tess was sitting alone at the breakfast table, taking her time with a bowl of grapenuts and a glass of orange juice, (which Max *knew* had about five drops of tabasco in it.)
She was dressed for school already - a pleated white skirt that Max just caught a glimpse of as he entered the Martin's dining room, a light lavender blouse, and her curly hair pulled back into a big puffy ponytail. **God, I love her.** Max didn't yet understand the why and wherefores of this bond he felt with Tess, but he treasured it, and he knew that Michael and Isabel felt the same - for all of their bickering, those two would do literally anything for each other...
"Uh, hello, Max?" Tess was waving cutely at him, and Max realized he had gotten lost in his own thoughts for a second.
"Sorry," he apologized with a smile, and headed over to er. "Good morning, sweetie." He bent down and kissed her playfully hello on the cheek, and then went into the kitchen to find some cereal of his own.
"I called you last night," Tess said to him through the doorway. Right, that call. Max had noticed the message light flashing on his and Isabel's personal line when he woke up. On the message, Tess had said, more or less: 'Max? Max, when you get this message, I need to see you or talk to you as soon as possible, okay?! Bye, baby.'
That message was the reason that Max had come over to the Martin's for breakfast. "Yeah, I got the message," he confirmed for Tess' benefit. "I was sleeping when you called."
Tess finised off her tabasco orange juice with a flair that Max couldn't immediately put his finger. "Incredible."
Max was heading back into the dining room, having decided to put his tabasco on his corn flakes (as well as maple syrup,) and take his apple juice straight. "What??"
"That you can SLEEP when the answer to every question we've ever had about ourselves is *out there* somewhere!!"
Max sighed around his spoonful of cereal, and shook his head slightly at his irrepressible girlfriend. "That picture Liz told me about?! Come on, Tess, that picture is evidence that there was an alien murderer around two generations ago. Even if he's still alive, I don't think he - it, or whatever, would be our best source of answers."
"Come on, Max," Tess groaned, looking up at him. "She... let's say it's a she, for argument's sake. She was probably a survivor of the crash, hunted by ignorant humans for twelve years and more. I'd have been surprised if someone in that situation WOULDN'T have to kill to defend herself in that much time."
Max looked at Tess, not quite sure how to take her words. And then, suddenly, the sound of the front door opening again tabled the discussion again. "Hello? Anybody around??"
"We're in here, Phil!" Tess called out in response. Soon a slightly shaggy-haired man in his mid-thirties poked his head into the doorway from the living room.
"Just dropped by to say good morning and good luck to my favorite neice," Phil said. Tess stared at him doubtfully. "Though I wouldn't say no to breakfast. Is Car at the office already?"
Tess checked her watch as her adoptive uncle put some bread into the toaster and poured a cup black from the coffee maker. "Almost there, I'd say."
Phil put his cup on the table, and turned his attention towards Max. "Uhh... Max, right?" Max nodded. "How's it going, Max my man? That screenplay of yours going okay?"
"Umm... haven't had much time for it lately, Phil," Max muttered, not quite sure exactly what the older man was talking about.
"You were telling me about it after the picnic, earlier this summer," Phil explained. Max wondered if he was thinking of someone else who had been at that party, but he didn't comment. "Like a steel trap." Phil tapped his cranium proudly.
"Well..." Tess pushed her chair out and shot a meaningful glance over at Max's cornflake bowl, which was already almost empty. "We'd better be heading off to school now. You can lock up when you're done, Uncle Phil?" She got up and blew him a goodbye kiss.
"Um, sure... but one more thing. Do you know when Carol's gonna be back?"
"Umm... probably around six, as usual. Why??" Tess looked into the thirtysomething slacker's face, and understanding hit. "You're short this month? What happened to the bookstore job??"
"Oh, I've still got it," Phil hastily assured her. "But that shi=- uh, shiphead Mr. Martson docked my pay just because..."
"It's okay, Phil," Tess told him, cutting off what could have been a long sob story. "Well, come by for dinner tonight and you guys can talk about it, brother to sister. If she says no, I've got a little spare in the allowance fund that could help tide you over." She turned to Max, who was just finishing the last of his juice. "Coming honey?"
* * * * *
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 25-Jun-2002 10:01:33 PM ]