|posted on 24-Feb-2002 9:48:31 PM by FieryDaisyChica|
CATEGORY: Futuristic, Dark
SUMMARY: Dark fic about Liz. Max and Isabel left with Tess after Departure. Michael stayed.
DISCLAIMER: You know it, I don’t own it, they all belong to the Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, you know the drill
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask.
FEEDBACK: is welcomed
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The song “Bad Day” belongs to Fuel.
I wasn’t looking for her. I knew I would look for her soon, but I wasn’t planning on today. I was merely going to town to find our house, to see if it was still there. To see Mom and Dad. I knew Liz’s plans for college, and I assumed she was still in Boston. It never occurred to me that she would be in Roswell.
But I saw her.
The same beautiful long hair. Not much taller. Not much difference at all, in fact. Except the look in her eyes was harder. Her face wasn’t relaxed. Her body was tougher. Her voice was still music to my ears, but her words were harsher. More intent on hurting people. But when she saw me . . . I knew that she still loved me. And I don’t care about her husband. I hope he finds out. He might already know about me, and our past, but he can't possibly understand the depth of my love. The amount of love it took to fuel the patience that I've had.
I turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The air was heavy, as usual. I could hear music in the background. Sheryl Crow, one of her old CDs, was being played. “And I shall believe.” Ah, Liz must be home.
“Liz? I’m home.” I walked into our house. Ah, there she was. What was wrong with her? She had her head down on the kitchen table, crying again. She refused to look up at me. “Liz, babe. I’m here. What’s wrong?” She sniffed and finally looked up, avoiding all eye contact with me.
< She left a note that said I'm sorry, I had a bad day>
“David, I’m sorry. I had a bad day.” I already knew it. I stood up and started the coffee maker.
“I’ll make you some coffee. It’ll help.” Nothing ever helped. But I didn’t mind. I knew she was going through some tough stuff right now, with the anniversary of Alex’s death coming up, and the anniversary of when he disappeared. She always got down this time of year. So I was patient and was just waiting for it to take its toll.
“So what’s wrong?” I asked. She stared at her hands.
“Nothing.” I know her better than that. I’m not stupid.
“What’s wrong, Liz?”
“I swear, nothing’s wrong!”
Same question. Same reply.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
I glanced over at her. Once we moved back to Roswell and I bought the house, she had insisted on working from home. A four bedroom, three bathroom house for two people was kind of crazy, but I loved this house, and it was wonderful. Liz had burst into tears when I showed her the house I had bought as a surprise. She never told me why. Maria had nearly cried, and Maria never cries. Instead Maria barreled through the house, searching room by room for something. She had been looking for something. When I asked her, she had just said something that the former owners might have left something there.
Murray Lane wasn’t that far away from the Crashdown Café where Liz’s parents still lived. That was one of the reasons Liz used, saying she wanted to work from the home. She had gone on a decorating craze for the house. The guest bedroom was amazing. Leopard print pillows, purple walls, red sheets and comforter. It was a designer bedroom. The first time Kyle had seen it, he had traced the lining of the comforter, and the pillows and sighed. He said it reminded him of a girl he used to know in high school. Michael refuses to come visit us. He says he used to know the people who lived here, and it had too many bad memories. Sometime I wonder if there’s something I don’t know.
The room Liz claimed as her office had been recently painted a brilliant white before we bought it. She had freaked out, and painted it a dark green color. She had also added a bed, a desk, and decorated the walls with posters of space and the atomic chart. She even bought an iguana and put it in a cage. It was more of a bedroom than an office, but who was I to criticize? Whatever made her happy. She spent a lot of her time in her office. Sometimes it seemed our marriage has been worse since we moved back to Roswell.
“Here you go.” I poured her a cup of coffee and placed it down in front of her. I started to turn back around. She was looking around in her pockets. I frowned. She had started up smoking again recently. What had made her do that? “Liz.”
“What?” I blanched. Her tone was harsher than usual. But not so harsh considering some of her past words.
“Here’s your coffee.” She knew what I wasn’t saying and ignored me. She took her coffee and sipped it. It never burned her. She continued to search her pockets.
“Ah, found them. I’m going outside.” Liz stood up roughly, and grabbed her coffee cup. Her hot coffee splashed over the rim and onto her wrist and the floor. She cried out and dropped her mug. It hit the floor in a million pieces. I reached out for her but she back away, tripping over her shoelace. It popped as it broke. Liz brought her hand up to her mouth, trying to blow away the burn. When she tripped, her hand rubbed against her mouth and smeared her red lipstick across her face.
Smeared the lipstick on her face
Slammed the door and said I'm sorry,
I had a bad day again>
“Damn it!” she yelled. Her wrist was turning a slight red. It must have burned like hell.
“Here, I’ll get you some ice,” I offered, starting towards the freezer.
“No, you won't. I’m going outside!” Liz yelled, turning around and stalking outside. A champagne glass fell and shattered as the door slammed.