|posted on 31-Jul-2002 1:45:57 AM by Meagzie|
|Author: Duh. Meagzie. The woman who is going to take over the world soon.|
Category: M/L, who else?
Rating: Lets keep it clean, folks. Rated R, for Rover.
Summary: It's quite a while after INAY (It's Not About You) took place, and we're just gonna catch up with everyone's life. Things have basically calmed down, but alas, we know that never seems to stay still.
Author's Note: Ok, if you haven't read It's Not About You, you're gonna want to, otherwise you'll be scratching your head and blaming me. The link to INAY is here: viewthread?forum=repost-fan-fiction&id=19266
I'll also be away for three weeks. I'm leaving in 8 hours, so no updates until I get back. But if you really feel the need to bug someone, go to Suli's story called My World and bump her lots. Oh, and Kitcat26's story called Risk of Burning. Or if you really feel the need for some Meagzie loving, go read my other new fic Dreaming of You. Enjoy!
Every story has a beginning, and every story has an ending.
Inevitably, my story has a strange and twisted middle.
I guess that’s what happens when you’re romantically involved with an alien king, you’re practically a sister to an alien commander, and best friends with an alien princess and her past life sister in law. Oh yes, life cannot get much more interesting than this, ladies and gentleman. Oh, but it does! I am one third of one of the largest, most well known bands in the world.
And you thought I was just some pitiful human being with nothing better to do than tell some boring story about her monkey named Jose. Oh no, dear people, for your information, my story is anything but boring.
I’m sure you remember me. Lets recap.
My name is Elizabeth Parker, daughter to one Katie and Richard Parker. I’m an only child, and now parentless because both of my parents have passed away. My mother died in a freak car accident, which actually ended up being part of an evil conspiracy my father set up to steal the millions of dollars my mother had received from my grandmother. As for my father, he abused me endlessly after my mother’s death and eventually was blown into small pieces by Michael, the alien commander.
Remember me, yet?
After the large incident revolving the deaths of both of my parents, I decided to permanently reside with my Aunt Nancy, my Uncle Jeff, and my cousin Michael Guerin in Roswell, New Mexico. They became my surrogate family, and now I consider them more like my surrogate parents and my brother. I have a boyfriend named Maxwell Evans, and he has saved my life by healing me with his alien powers, along with his sister, Isabel, and their friend, Tess. Together, we form a large, tight circle of friends, including three other pure humans: Maria Deluca, Alex Whitman, and Kyle Valenti.
As far as family ties go, Alex and Tess are brother and sister (Tess was adopted). Maria and Kyle are also siblings, but only by marriage. Apparently their parents fell madly in love years ago, and have since had a happy marriage.
Still can’t remember me?
I have an unhealthy obsession with Krispy Kremes.
Oh, see? I knew you remembered me.
So I assume you want an update of my life. Well, really, it’s none of your damn business.
But despite that, I’ll tell you anyways.
I live in a trailer with my husband, Pete, and our seven children, whose names I can’t seem to remember because I’m too drunk most of the time. We’ve got three dogs, Dinky, Baby, and Snarl. We used to have another one, Shriek, but the neighbor’s shot him. Those sons of bitches. They like to keep the whole damn trailer park up when they’re humping and bumping like cats in heat and squealing like freaking pigs at three o’clock in the freaking morning!
Yep. You’re right. I’m full of crap. But I had you there for a second, didn’t I?
No, in fact, I don’t live in a trailer park but rather I own an apartment in New York, Los Angeles, Toronto and I just bought a place here, in Roswell. Note that I said I own them, but I don’t necessarily live in them. Sure, from time to time I’ve stayed in each of them but my schedule is so crappy that I’ve barely got time to breathe, much less stay in one of the apartments long enough to make it “homey”. Nope, I’m usually rushing off to the recording studio. If I’m not doing that, I’m off to a press conference with Maria and Alex. If I’m not doing that, then it’s photo shoot for a new album or another magazine or some advertisement. And if I’m not doing that… well, you get the picture.
And no, I’m not shitting you this time.
Maria, Alex and I decided to form a band after our little talent show performance. We’ve been doing gigs and stuff ever since. High school ended quickly for us and we weren’t willing to give up this dream of ours.
Well, it’s not really even that, we just didn’t have anything better to do. Sure, I had that scholarship to Harvard for being a freakin’ chemistry genius, but ah, who cares about that? It would scare me to be in the same professional field as Porky.
We moved out to New York in hopes of becoming more than just some punk kids from Roswell, NM. Michael couldn’t bear to be without Maria, Max couldn’t bear to be without me, Isabel couldn’t bear to be without Max, Tess couldn’t bear to be without her best girlfriends, and Kyle, well, Kyle couldn’t bear to be without a Krispy Kreme buddy. I’m talking about yours truly, of course. So we all moved to New York. And I mean all of us.
It was damn pain in the ass trying to find a place for us to live. There was no way we could find a place large enough for the eight of us, especially considering Kyle’s extensive porn collection. Sick-o. So we had to split up into groups. Although each one of us protested at some point, in the end Alex, Maria and I moved into a large studio apartment so we could focus on our music together. Oh, and trust me, we weren’t the only ones not liking the whole deal. Max and Michael were miffed that they couldn’t move in with Maria or me. A few months later we were really regretting our decision. Max and Michael were always at our place, and they ate all of our damn food. You’d think they would have lives or something.
I guess that answers any questions regarding Michael and Maria’s relationship. Yes, they are still together. I’m surprised the whole world doesn’t know it now by the way Maria screams. Now that’s a squealing pig sound if I’ve ever heard one. I didn’t know that Michael could grunt that loud either. It’s quite disgusting.
So Max, Michael and Kyle got their own place when we moved to big city, and Isabel and Tess got an apartment in the same building as them. The rumour was that while Max and Michael were at our place (eating all of our food, no doubt, and watching TV), a certain Miss Tess Whitman was sneaking into Kyle’s room and playing “find the monkey” with Mr. Valenti himself! Those sneaky little devils.
Things started to take off pretty quickly for our band, though. We got a few gigs and bang! People were talking about us, telling their friends to check us out. It was pretty sweet. Our free time got less and less, too busy with gigs and writing songs. Agents were interested in us, and people were starting to offer us demo deals, which eventually turned into record deals. We were wary of them though.
There was this one company that offered us a record deal, with all the trimmings. A new makeover for the three of us, lots of promotion, and all that fun stuff included. As long as I lost thirty pounds, that is. Both Alex and Maria had to hold me back so I wouldn’t hit their representative. Needless to say, we didn’t go with them.
Right when we were about to throw this whole getting a contract thing out the door, a new music recording company approached us. And you’ll never guess whom they sent.
Oh yeah. Miss Ella herself. Guess who she is now?
CEO and president of Flourish Records. Oh yes, Lady Luck loves me.
Apparently Papa Flourish, Ella’s dad, created and owned all of Flourish Records, which is the second largest record producing company in the entire world. They produced every sort of star you can think of. You remember that classical chick, the one with the really powerful voice and had a vast range? Oh yeah. That was Flourish Records. Oh, and the country guy, who always had that cheetah print cowboy hat on and everyone was convinced he was gay until some woman claimed to be having his child? Yup. Flourish Records.
Sadly, Mr. Flourish passed away a year after our graduation, and Ella took over the company. Evidently, the company has, pardon the pun, flourished since then. I always knew Ella was a go-getter. She’s sneaky, undercutting, and an all around bitch. So basically, she’s perfect for this kind of business.
Ella signed us on immediately. She said that the moment she heard about us, she knew that she had to “personally take care of the band”. Uh huh. She pretty much fed us the same bullshit the other agents fed us, but at least we knew her. Besides, she offered us a few other things that the other companies refused to give us. For example, most of the songs on our albums are actually written by us, which is pretty rare for a new band. We pick our own clothes, and our own hairstyles.
Which is where Tess and Isabel enter the picture.
When Tess and Isabel moved to New York with us, they were bored. They needed jobs, needed something to keep them busy, and most importantly, needed money to feed their unhealthy yet constant shopping sprees. Tess refused to spend money on going to school for a degree she would probably never use, and Isabel just felt bored with life in general. So they started up a business and that’s completely prospered in the past two years. They design, produce, and market their own line of clothing, and have recently been opening up boutiques and a few salons.
Who better to direct the fashion world than Miss Shop-a-holic herself, and her trusty sidekick?
So, of course, we get Tess and Isabel to clothe and style us from head to toe. It’s fun because not only do we have an excuse to hang out and shop for days, we get paid for it too. Who doesn’t love that? Well, apparently Alex, because he always grumbles when he has to come along with us for a day and try on clothes.
Boys will be boys. They never know a good pampering if it hit them on their tight tushies.
As for Kyle, he’s in his last year of law and will be doing his bar exam next month. What kind of law, you ask? Entertainment, of course. What else pays more? Besides, he already said he’s ready and willing to look over any contracts that may come our way. He’s always spouting out legal advice for Maria, Alex and I. Who knew there a brain inside of that head of his? Maybe he just did it to impress Miss Harding. Hmm…
That leaves Michael and Max. Believe it or not, Michael decided not to waste his life away with his precious Dreamcast. Perhaps it’s a trend or something, but he too decided to link his career with ours. Perhaps it’s the alien soldier inside of him, but he decided to become our head security guard. You know the guy that stands there and always has his arms crossed over his chest with an emotionless expression on his face? Yep. That’s Mr. Michael Guerin himself. I think he just has a problem with prepubescent boys mauling Maria. Or maybe he just likes the teenage girls that rush up against him, and flirt with him in hopes of getting backstage.
That one will just never learn, will he?
Max is the only odd one out, completely dividing himself from the world of entertainment. He says he experiences enough of the entertainment excitement by just being my boyfriend, and that’s more than enough for him. Max has some sort of idea that he wants to be a doctor. I respect his decision, although I could never deal with someone else’s blood gushing all over me or having to touch someone’s “itchy” parts. I told him if he even gets the dumb ass idea of healing anyone, no matter how bad off the person is, I’d kick his ass. I don’t intend to break my nails just to bust his ass out of some secret government experiment. He took my threat seriously, as he damn well should have. He knows that I’m serious. He also knows I would withhold sex from him if he crossed me. Hah. Sucker.
So that’s it, folks. That’s where we are.
Ok, perhaps not.
So I’ve been thinking about it lately. About life I mean, and all of that junk. Not the whole “what is the meaning of life” and that stuff. No. That’s pointless to think about because it really doesn’t matter. Nope. Not at all.
Ok, maybe a little bit.
But that wasn’t what I’ve been thinking about anyways.
No, I’ve been thinking about my life lately. Sometimes I ponder why Max and the rest of the Pod Squad, as Maria so affectionately calls them, ever saved my puny life. Max claims that they couldn’t bear to lose me and he just knew it wasn’t my time yet. How does he know that though? How could he have know that it wasn’t my time to die, that I could have just been ran over with a truck the very next day?
Nancy says there’s a reason for everything. I guess she’s right. If Nancy had never found me in that damned thing they call the social care system after my dad nearly killed me (that was murder attempt numero uno, ladies and gentleman!), I would have never met Max and the fellow podsters. If I had never met Max, I would be, once again, dead (from murder attempt numero dos).
I think it’s needless to say that if I were dead, I wouldn’t be worth much more than the mold behind your refrigerator.
Maybe the real question is, where am I now exactly? Limbo perhaps. My life has come to this settling point where I can finally take a breath and just enjoy myself. Sure, I’ve got a hectic schedule, what with my profession and all (as a recording artist, not a prostitute, much to Kyle’s dismay). I feel like I’ve reached my equilibrium, and I can just let myself be overwhelmed with the amount of happiness that surrounds me. I’ve got a wonderful career, life long friendships, and one hell of a lover. Let me tell you, if Maria can squeal… well, lets just say Maria’s screams sounds like whispers next to mine.
It’s kind of funny because Max and Michael, being the typical men that they are, are so incredibly competitive. They always have these contests as to whose girl can scream and moan the loudest, much to Maria’s and my delight. To make a terribly long, perverted story short, we’ve been asked to “leave the premises immediately” at a handful of hotels. That’s not the worst part though. You should hear Alex’s cursing when he hears our knocking on his hotel door at 3 am. He just assumes now that we got kicked out. Again.
Sorry, got off topic. It’s just that whenever I think of Max, it’s like… right. Get back on topic.
So, oui, oui, my people, I’ve finally come to a desirable place in my life. It’s taken me a long time to get here. Nothing is butter and cheese anymore, and it’s taken an indescribable amount of healing to reach this state. I don’t like to talk about my parents, especially my dad, but I saw a therapist a while back, only at Max’s persistence though. The doctor was a complete bastard however. He said that any emotional pain and damage I suffer from, I hide it through my sarcasm or contempt. Asshole.
He also said that I suffer from immense emotional distress from when my mother left me to fend for myself, and my father physically abused me. Well, no shit, Sherlock. I could have told you that one long before I spent hundreds of dollars sitting in your damn leather chair as you pointlessly analyze my brain.
Needless to say, I only saw him a few times. What can I say? He pissed me off.
Although I’ve reached this pleasant place in my life, we all know it’ll never last. Life is far too high strung for that. Sometimes I wish life would just borrow some of Maria’s cedar oil and just relax for once. Alas, I’m probably asking for far too much, so I’ll just shut my eyes, clench my fists, and wait for the world to quake beneath me.
Besides, it’s far too boring when you just bought an orange juicer, and life refuses to spare you a few oranges.
[ edited 6 time(s), last at 15-Feb-2003 12:09:15 PM ]
|posted on 8-Sep-2002 10:43:27 PM by Meagzie|
|Woo! Look who's back. It's me. Sorry for the long delay for part 2. School started again, and blah blah blah. We all know how that goes. But I finally sat down this afternoon and finished this new part. I know there were a few questions, and I have a few answers. I don't really have much time to answer anyone personally, but I know I want to answer a question that was raised.|
Someone asked about who Ella is. If you can remember back to It's Not About You, Ella was the girl who was obsessive over Max and made sure that Max and Liz knew it. Her parents were jerks, and she disliked them a lot. She sorta disappeared near the end of the story.
Oh! Klaatu42, you tried Krispy Kremes! Mmm. So good. Me miss having Krispy Kremes. *sigh* And Tabby! Where is this box of Krispy Kremes you were bribing me with?!
Anyhoo! My time is up. Here is the new part. Thank you to each and everyone person who left me feedback, and bumped this story. That's just awesome. I'm so excited about this story! Heheh. Being the author, am I supposed to be this excited? ANYWAYS, just enjoy! Let me know what you think.
Have you ever woken up to the sun shining on your face? Its warmth spreads across your skin, and teases you with its joyous affection. You’re much too afraid to open your eyes in fear of it all being a dream, and too afraid to keep your eyes closed in fear of missing something truly wonderful. Your desire to view the beautiful sky overcomes you though, and you want to see if those are in fact little birds singing in the background.
Then realized it was only your prick of a brother shining a desk lamp in your eyes.
“SCREW OFF, MICHAEL!”
I hear a loud thud, and then an even louder rumble of laughter. Son a bitch. That stupid prick is rolling on the ground laughing at me!
“I’m so going to kick your ass,” I grumble angrily into my pillow. I’m sure if I tried hard enough, I just might be able to get my lazy butt out of bed and land a good punch to Michael’s face. Oh yeah. That sounds good.
But that’s far too much work. So I’ll just lie here.
“C’mon, fugly face, get out of bed. Dad’s making breakfast and he’s waiting for your fat ass to get up before he lets us eat,” Michael whines.
“No.” I turn over so that my back is now facing him. “Get out of my room, lard-o.”
You’d think we were 12, and not grown adults with professional careers.
“But I’m hu-u-u-u-u-ungry.” Another whine from Michael Guerin, ladies and gentleman. No wonder he’s Maria’s bitch. No else could put up with him. I sure as hell can’t.
Suddenly I feel the whole world pull out from under me, and my face meets the ground. Hard. Michael has pulled the comforter in which I had very cozily been wrapped in away from me, causing me to topple off the bed. It makes me growl.
Oh yes, I growl.
“Michael, you JERK!” I scream at him. “I was sleeping! For all you know, I could have been naked underneath that blanket!”
“I know, but now you’re not and you weren’t. So get your fat butt downstairs so the rest of the house can eat.” Michael throws my comforter back on my bed and strolls out of my room, as if he had never pissed me off.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to know what it would be like to have a brother or a sister. I wondered if a sibling would make my mother and father love each other more, maybe help to reunite our severely broken family. I could have a brother or sister that I could play with, and teach important stuff to. Like how to give good noogies, or how to give cousin Michael a great wedgie.
Now that I do have a brother, like Michael has so gradually become, I curse any of those thoughts I ever had. Michael’s just plain annoying. ‘Nough said.
I slowly rise from my uncomfortable position on the floor, and grab my fleece robe that’s decorated with little puppies that are sleeping on cheetah print moons. I kid you not. I love this robe. Sometimes I want to take it out on the road with me, but then I realize that I would have a meltdown if I ever lost it. You think I joke, but I do not.
I take a look in the mirror and grin at my completely messy appearance. I’ve got hair sticking every which way, I’ve got those little crusty things in the corner of my eyes, and not a spot of makeup is on my face. It’s wonderful. I love my job. I mean, god, I’m a rock star, who wouldn’t love my job? But wearing makeup and having to look perfect all the time gets to be too much sometimes. I cherish the time I get to just relax and be myself.
I saunter out of my room and my slippers, shaped like little puppies, go flip-flop on the floor. I smell the aroma of home cooked bacon from the kitchen and instantly I’m drawn towards the room. I pop my head inside, and there stands Jeff Guerin in his own fleece robe, making bacon and flipping pancakes.
“Hey dad,” I say as I move towards him. He smiles as I enter and holds out an arm to me. He wraps it around my shoulder affectionately and kisses the top of my head like any proud father would.
Dad and I have really grown closer over the years. I love him as my own father, and acknowledge him as that. He’s been more of a father to be in the past five minutes than my real father had been all of my life. The Guerin’s have become my real family, and I know when people look at me now, they can see Dad’s tenderness and Nancy’s motherly affection.
Nancy is a slightly different story from Jeff. I haven’t ever called her my mother, and I don’t think I ever will. I think we both feel that we would be disrespecting my mother and her sister if I started to address Nancy as my mother. Although I’m not saying that Nancy doesn’t treat me as her own daughter, because that she does. Nancy calls my cell phone everyday when I’m on the road, checking to make sure I’ve eaten enough vegetables that day. Both her and Jeff like to wish me good luck before each and every show too.
I swear to god my long distance bill is absolutely ridiculous.
“Good morning, Princess,” Dad says as he flips a pancake. “How’d you sleep?” I roll my eyes, being reminded of my doofus brother.
“I was sleeping just perfectly fine until Michael woke me up.” I grumble loudly, but dad only chuckles at me.
“Can you set the table, muffin?” Dad pauses, and raises an eyebrow. “I’m assuming that the rest of the group are going to slowly make their way back here?”
As always, the eight of us like to do most things together, so when Alex, Maria and I got a two-week break from doing promotional stuff, the rest of the gang decided to take a vacation as well. We all made a long overdue trip home. Even Max came with us despite his busy schedule with school.
We’re all staying with our respective families, but the days usually end with the whole gang eventually making their way back here, where we will usually sit in the Crashdown until the band gets noticed by someone and we are forced to move upstairs to the apartment.
We adore fans, we really do, but do you realize how tough it is to sign an autograph and eat a Krispy Kreme at the same time? Sometimes we need some peace and quiet, just like everyone else. I know that it really upsets Max when we go out for a nice, quiet dinner and someone interrupts our meal for an autograph. We rarely get time to see each other now, since Max is busy with medical school and I’m usually doing a tour or promotional stuff. I think the thing that really upsets him is that I never decline a fan, and sometimes I get into long conversations with them.
“Good morning,” greets Nancy as she saunters into the kitchen, fully dressed and ready for the day. I don’t understand it. How can she be happy and ready for the day when I’ve just rolled out of bed? It must be an older woman thing. My mom was like that. When I came down for breakfast, she would already be waiting for me with breakfast on the table and her makeup already on. Ah, something I must look forward to. Waking up at ungodly hours so I can look terrific when the rest of my family looks like they’ve rolled around in the garbage a few times.
“Morning Nancy,” Dad and I both reply. I open the cupboard door and take out four plates for the dining room table. Nancy sees what I’m doing and gathers the necessary utensils. Michael, being the lazy ass that he is, sits in the living room scratching his butt with the television turned on far too loud for a normal human being.
Then again, maybe that’s his problem.
“Hey dork butt, want to not be a jerk and help me set the table?” I grin at him, and he just rolls his eyes, telling me silently as if. I check to make sure Nancy and Dad aren’t looking, and then I flip Michael off. Without thinking, he gives me the finger right back just as Nancy walks into the dining room beside me.
“MICHAEL!” Nancy exclaims. “I don’t want to see you ever doing that again! Get off your butt and do something productive!”
I giggle quietly. I so saw that coming.
You know, Michael and I will be in our late fifties and we’ll still be trying to get the other in trouble and make each other’s lives hell. It’s all love between us. Honestly. Ok, sometimes. Part of the time? Ok, it’s the pure joy of watching the other suffer that excites us. Call us sadistic if you must, but I can tell you right now that if I fell down a flight of stairs, Michael would pee his pants with laughter.
Michael, Nancy and I finish setting the table and chat for a while as we wait for Dad to finish cooking. We don’t like to interrupt him when he’s making food, otherwise he gets cranky and just shoos us out of the kitchen anyways. He’s very stern about his rules concerning the kitchen. It’s like he’s the Kitchen Nazi.
No food for you!
The phone startles me as it rings a few feet away from the table. I look pointedly at Michael, but he ignores me because he doesn’t want to get the phone. I roll my eyes at him and stand up to answer the phone.
“Guerin residence,” I say into the receiver.
“I was dreaming about you last night.”
“Oh yeah? I thought you were done with those wet dreams, Max.”
I hear Max chuckle on the other side of the line, and I can’t help but smile to myself. He’s so sexy. He’s my sexy man. Really, it’s amazing how far the two of us have come since high school. I love Max Evans, I really truly do.
The funny thing about love is that when I was a kid, I used to imagine it as a fairytale where my prince would come riding in on his white stallion and we would gallop off towards the setting sun. That’s hardly what love is really like. Love is about giving and receiving and having and sharing, and taking that receiving love and not just having it, but sharing it and giving it.
What can I say? I love that Friends episode. Who wouldn’t want Joey to be their minister?
Seriously though, love is something so much more different than I ever imagined it to be. It’s not this fa-la-la thing that’s so magical all the time, but it’s not some casual thing you can throw around either. I can tell you right now that Max and I have had our fair share of arguments, but we’ve also had lovey-dovey, romantic moments too. With loving someone, you take the bad with the good. Max hates how involved I can get with my work, and I hate how quiet and excessively responsible Max can be sometimes. But I also love how he’s so tender and gentle with me, and he loves how I can make him blow his-
Sorry. We’ll keep this at a PG rating for now.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Evans?” I ask in a flirtatious tone.
“Perhaps the question is, Ms. Parker, what can I do for you?”
Hmm, seems as if we’re in a frisky mood today. Touchdown! I’m going to get some nookie today.
“Well, nothing that I could say in front of present company.” I pause before adding in a whisper, “But I can tell you that it involves a pair of furry handcuffs.” I hear Max go deadly silent before a loud rustle and a sound like books falling to the floor echoes through the phone.
“Hold that thought!” Max practically shouts. “I’ll be there in five minutes!”
Then the line goes dead. I stare at the phone in my hand for a moment, wondering what the hell just happened. I bite my lip, pondering my next action. Before I know it, I’m rushing up the stairs to my room to change into a pair of decent clothes. Breakfast can definitely wait.
Max and I keep throwing each other these sexy glances. I want to just jump into his lap and ravish him senseless. Especially since he took longer than the five minutes he had claimed it would take him. No, I had to wait thirty minutes, in which I sat in my parent’s house terribly sexually frustrated. But all my anger quickly departed when he literally swept into our house, pushed me up against a wall and kissed me savagely.
God, he’s so sexy.
I’m not a nymphomaniac, I swear. Just picture it from my point of view. While I’m on the road, and Max is in school, we go long periods of time without having sex. I’m allowed to be sexually free when we’re together. It’s my right as his girlfriend.
“Liz,” Max warns through gritted teeth. Really, I don’t see what his problem is. It’s not my fault that my hand accidentally dropped into his lap, right next to something that seems to be hard.
I’m so evil.
“Yes, Max?” I say in a purely innocent voice.
“I’m trying to drive,” he warns again. He peeks over at me for a moment, and raises his eyebrow. I sigh loudly, and I move my hand away. He’s no fun.
“I swear we’re almost there, babe,” Max reassures me as I pout in my own corner.
“And where exactly are we going anyways?” I ask, peeking out at the desert that surrounds us. All I know is that he said he had this huge surprise for me, and that’s why he took so long to pick me up. Also that he has something hiding in the backseat that he doesn’t want me to see yet.
Max doesn’t answer me, but continues to drive. We stay silent for a while, just letting the tranquility of the quiet desert envelop us again. This is one of the things I miss about Roswell. How you can just go out into the desert and lose yourself, not having to worry about the insane traffic or some of the rude residents of New York. It’s so peaceful out here.
Max takes a detour off the main road suddenly, and begins traveling out into the sandy ridges of the desert. I question him silently with my eyes, but he just pats my leg and smiles at me. I love him.
“We’re here,” Max declares suddenly as he stops the rental car and parks it. I look around and realize we are literally in the middle of nowhere. I open the door, and step out of the car.
“Max?” I question again, and suddenly he appears behind me. His arms wrap around my stomach, and he presses his lips against my temple for a kiss. “Am I supposed to know where we are?”
Max chuckles lightly into my ear, and draws me close against him. “This is the spot where my life came alive for the very first time, Liz.” He leans his delectable lips towards my ear, kissing a spot beside it. In a low, soft whisper, he asks me, “Do you still think love is overrated?”
My mind suddenly flings back into my memory, a scene replays in front of me. A scene that took place in this very spot.
~ “I’m sorry, ok? I just… I don’t know. I don’t have much faith in love. That’s all.” Max turns to look me at me directly again. Those damn eyes. Why are they so captivating?
“Don’t you think that’s kind of sad?” he asks me inquisitively, his hurt expression wiped away.
“Well, so is Dumbo, but it doesn’t mean I like that damn thing.”~
That was the night I first fell desperately in love with Max Evans, even if I didn’t know at the time. It was the beginning of a totally new journey for me. One that left behind the hurt, the pain, and the ache from the repercussions of my father’s actions. The very same journey that has led me here, still in the arms of the man I love most and with a family I couldn’t imagine living without.
“We haven’t been here in years,” I state breathily, suddenly taken aback by the memory, and the sense of importance this one place holds.
“I know,” Max replies. He slowly pulls away from me and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a long scarf. My eyes widen at him, already knowing what he’s going to ask.
“Max, no.” My voice is solid and firm. “You know I hate surprises, and you know I especially hate surprises that involve me being blindfolded.”
Max pouts for a moment, giving me that damn innocent, puppy dog look. Damn it. He always does that when he knows I’m going to protest. He knows I can’t fight that look. I roll my eyes irately and just nod at him. He grins at me, and puts the blindfold on, but not without giving me a kiss first.
So here I stand, waiting as I hear Max shuffle around. I hear the back door of the car opening, and Max taking stuff out. I can’t really identify what exactly he’s doing but he seems to be moving pretty fast to get things set the way he wants it to be.
Wait. Are those Krispy Kremes I smell?
“Can I open my eyes yet?” I whine pathetically. I’ve never liked surprises, and Max knows that.
“Almost,” replies Max. I start to hear him moving excitedly on the ground and I’m not sure as to what he’s doing. I’m going to be so mad if he’s setting up some sort of kinky sex scene in front of me.
Ok, I won’t really be mad rather than incredibly turned on.
All of a sudden Max is standing in front of me, and he’s taking off the blindfold. His body blocks whatever he was setting up on the ground and I try to go on my tiptoes to see, but he just takes my head in his hands and makes me look at him.
“Liz, I want to say something,” Max declares. I focus my attention on him, and our eyes meet each other in an affectionate gaze.
“I have loved you since the first moment you arrived in Roswell, and I’ve never been able to love someone as much as I have loved you. Liz, you’re everything to me. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re the reason why I want to do good in this world. You’re the reason I don’t have to live in fear everyday.
“This is where we first got to know each other. It is the place where our lives first became entwined, and gave me the chance to experience a love so much more important and exhilarating than anything in this universe could ever offer. So in this very same place, I want to start new part of our lives together. I need to know that you and I will be able to stay in this state of being together forever, a place where you will always be mine. I want to be yours always, Liz Parker. I need to be yours forever.”
Max pauses, and scratches his eyebrow for a moment. A nervous habit of his. He takes a deep breath as I stare at him cautiously. Is he doing what I think he’s doing? Max suddenly takes a step to the side, revealing whatever it is he was fiddling with moments earlier.
“Oh my god,” I gasp loudly at the sight.
You’ll never believe it.
Guess what I see?
Come on. Guess. You know you want to.
Eww! Oh god, NO. Not that! You pervert.
Max has laid a blanket on the ground and on top of the blanket he’s spread Krispy Kremes on top of it. But not just any Krispy Kremes. No, these are in the shapes of letters. Letters that so eloquently read:
LIZ, WILL YOU MARRY ME?
Have I told you that I love this man?
“So?” Max asks hesitantly, looking at me nervously. I look at him with tears slowly forming in my eyes. Max Evans and Krispy Kremes at the same time. Life does not get any better than this.
“YES!” I scream at Max as I hurl myself at him. “Yes, yes, yes!” He’s surprised by my attack, causing him to lose his balance and we slowly tip over together. I’m unmoved by the event, too involved with laying kisses all over his body. In my opinion, this man is wearing far too many clothes, so I start to rip them off.
“Liz,” Max calls out breathily, unable to resist my sexual urges. “I love you, Liz. I love you so much.”
I pause, staring at him intently. My beautiful, wonderful, kindhearted Max, now my fiancé. I can’t take my eyes away from him, and the sensation that envelops my body is something so indescribable, that I won’t even begin to express it with words.
“Max Evans, I love you too.”
[ edited 1 time(s), last at 8-Sep-2002 10:44:06 PM ]
|posted on 11-Sep-2002 6:47:14 PM by Meagzie|
|So I was thinking of what September 11th meant to me, and I wrote down exactly what came to mind. So here it is, my rant:|
I’m not sure as to how many people know this, but I am Canadian. I was born in Canada, raised in Canada, and I will probably continue to live in Canada for a very long time. Yet as a Canadian, I know that I will never forget the day that the world was shaken forever. On September 11th, 2001, terrorists maliciously attacked and killed thousands of undeserving people.
My personal feelings on the event may not necessarily reflect what others may feel, yet my heart aches just as theirs, and my unworthy sympathy is stretched for everyone who has lost someone and has personally felt the pain of this attack. For a year now, we’ve been hearing on the news, or on television and radio in general, that the United States of America has been assaulted needlessly, and it was time as a country to band together and help one another get through this hard time.
I, on the other hand, disagree.
This attack wasn’t on just America, but on the world. When I think of myself, I don’t only say I am a citizen of Canada, but I am also a citizen and participant of the entire global community. The September 11th attacks did not just affect those in the USA, but the people around the entire world. It’s horrifying events radiated from hate, anger, and ignorance, and the aftershocks were felt across the globe. I feel that it is a worldwide concern and objective to regain the security and confidence that were brutally and unrightfully taken away.
During a time of deep sorrow, feelings of loneliness and isolation can become dominant. I hope that all of you, and all others that were aching like my soul had been after the attacks, know and realize that this is not a lone battle. We all are feeling the pain through our humanly connection, and through our connection we will survive this and face the world for more difficult days, weeks, months, years that are sure to come. We should not look at this as a black mark in our past, but rather something to learn from, and prove we are still strong. That which doesn’t destroy us only makes us stronger.
So, no, it is not time as a country to band together and help one another, but it is time as a entire global community to come together and work as one.
I guess my main message is this:
United we stand, divided we fall.
|posted on 4-Jan-2003 6:20:23 PM by Meagzie|
|Hola lovely readers!|
I've been sluggish about updating, I know. To be perfectly honest, I just haven't been feeling the motivation to write this story or A Future Untold. But wonder of all wonders, I'm working on the next part for WIA right now. I'm going to finish this thing eventually, I promise. I'm not sure how long it's going to take to get this chapter done, but it shouldn't take too long. I hope. Anyways, my point? I'm working on it, I promise. And as soon as I'm done and I get the thumbs up from my betas, I'll post. I'm trying my hardest! All of the bumps and wonderful, wonderful feedback has been amazingly inspirational. Thanks so much!
FYI, I was working on a different project the past 2 months or so, and I posted it about a week ago. It's called Edge of Fate, and it's a one parter. It's a lot darker than most of my writing, but I'm proud of it. So feel free to check it out. Thanks again, guys.
|posted on 15-Feb-2003 12:07:58 PM by Meagzie|
|Hey y'all! Man... you guys rock my socks. Seriously. I'm always happy and dancing when I see this fic bumped, lets me know that I haven't been forgotten. I've been busy though, thus my extended absense. Plus my muse has been MIA for a while now. I think she ran off with my dentist. Anyways, just to give you an idea, here's a status on my life right now: I finished my diploma finals in January for semester one, I started a new job about two weeks ago, I'm taking a creative writing course once a week for two months, still got voice lessons on my plate and now guitar class. Plus my other two school classes, so all in all, I'm a busy lady, lol!|
Although, I have written for both A Future Untold and Who I Am in the past few months, but not enough to post. I'm hoping to get some writing done tonight and tomorrow, what with having tomorrow off (thank goodness!). I start the new WIA part a long while ago, and then I got stuck at this one point. So then I ended up rewriting the whole scene, and I haven't had time to look at it since then. But we'll see, maybe in the next day or so. Anyways, I'm trying to update as soon as I can, I promise. And all of the bumps and encouragement keeps me going, trust me. I appreciate it so much.
Anyways, onto other matters, I doubt I'll be posting much here anymore. I must be true to my other lovely boards and have decided to post at Outer Haven now. (http://pub13.ezboard.com/bouterhaven45775) Also, I will continue to post at The Boardello (http://pub44.ezboard.com/bthespoilerslutsfanficwhorehouse) as always, but I doubt I will update at RF again. So if you're looking for updates for my stories, you can find them at Boardello or Outer Haven. (Only Edge of Fate has been posted at Outer Haven, BUT within the next week or so I should have all of my fics posted up there.)
Much appreciation, guys. You're awesome.