Getting out of Roswell was the best thing anyone could ever do for Michael Guerin. He’s stable, he’s less volatile, and he’s completely devoted to his makeshift family, and to the flame that burns in his heart. Getting out of Roswell was the worst thing anyone could ever do for me. I’ve always thought that if I left, I could be happy—and free. But the truth is, if you’re not with the person that you love, and need to be with, it doesn’t matter how far you run.

* * *

Max and Liz lay on the floor, facing one another, and propped up on their elbows. Max leaned forward to kiss her softly. Their date had ended two hours before, but Max had been able to sneak in through the window to spend some more *quality* time with her.

“You know what? I can’t get over the fact that you liked Amityville Horror!” Liz finally protested with a laugh.

“It was a classic,” Max chuckled softly, and put his hand on her hip, pulling her closer. “That’s why it was on at the *classic* movie house.” Max leaned in to kiss her neck.

Liz blushed. “I just feel like I’ll never get used to this, you know? Sexual intimacy…” she trailed off.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Max withdrew.

“No,” Liz smiled and ducked her head. “It’s just…new to me. But I love it…I love you.”

“I can’t wait until we’re off at school, and we don’t have to sneak around like this,” Max admitted. “I can’t wait until you’re all mine.”

“Me, too,” Liz smiled brightly, and then moaned softly as Max rolled her onto her back. He loomed above her and buried his face in the soft skin of her neck, making hickeys there.

“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’ve loved me for so long. All of those years I was unhappy, and then you finally came into my life and made it all feel so right,” Liz sighed. Max kissed her softly and stared into her eyes.

“Liz…” he murmured gently.

“Max, when you saved me that day, you didn’t just save me from a bullet. You saved me from a life of feeling like I meant nothing to anyone. And then, when I found out you were in love with me, everything started falling into place, and I felt so wanted, and needed…desired,” Liz finished, her voice husky with passion and pain.

“Why are things with your parents so bad?” Max asked, tucking hair behind her ear. “Is it just because of me?”

“No,” Liz let out a long sigh. “One afternoon, we had an early release day, so I came home at noon instead of three, and caught my mom with another man. I had never felt so betrayed in my entire life—for me, and my dad—for my family. Things with my mom have never been the same. She tries to still act like a loving, caring mother, but I can’t help but see her as a liar,” Liz responded darkly.

“Why didn’t you tell your dad?” Max asked quietly, tenderly caressing the back of her hand.

“You know, Mom inherited the restaurant from Grandpa…and this life, with her and my dad is the only thing I’ve ever really known. My dad just has her up on this pedestal—something like that would just kill him. We wouldn’t have anywhere to go…I just didn’t know what to do, Max…” Liz looked like she was about to cry. “And then there’s you, and even though I wanted to tell my dad, to find a new place to live, I couldn’t bear to leave you. I’m so selfish, Max.”

Max pulled her closer until their chests were pressed together with every breath. “I’ll never be unfaithful to you, Liz,” Max promised, leaning in for another kiss.

Liz gave him a grateful smile and leaned closer. “Please, Max…just show me how much you love me,” she begged softly, and Max lifted her up and over onto the bed, then followed her up and turned off her bedroom lamp. He lifted her shirt off of her head and eased her jeans over her hips. Liz was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, but he finished the job and removed his jeans. She smelled sandalwood every time a piece of his clothing came off and she knew soon she would be able to smell it on her own skin. Max’s hands trembled as they stroked the sides of her breasts and ran over her hips. The skin he touched was smooth and hairless, and Max wondered idly if other girls felt this soft, or were as beautiful. He didn’t think they could possibly be. Liz lay back on the bed and reached out for him.

“Touch me, Max,” Liz moaned, “don’t ever stop.”

“Oh, Liz…” his groan was soft, and full of desire. He sank next to her on the bed, kissing and touching her softest, pinkest skin. She smelled like roses and tasted of peppermints. The first time he kissed her, on the top of the roof, he couldn’t believe she tasted like peppermints. He imagined kissing her in a thousand different ways and having her taste of a thousand different flavors—vanilla, ylang ylang, cinnamon—but never in his wildest imagination had she tasted like a peppermint.

She reached up and put her tiny hands on his broad, muscular shoulders and lifted herself up to whisper in his ear, as if there was any one else to hear her.

“I want you to put your fingers inside of me,” she commanded softly, and Max wondered if it was possible to go crazy with desire. He fulfilled her wish, moving inside of her. She gasped softly, and pressed her mouth against his chest to occupy herself in order not to moan loudly.

“Liz, you are so beautiful,” Max whispered lovingly, placing kisses on the softest skin of her breasts, and the hardened flesh of her nipples. Streams of moonlight shined through the window and illuminated their naked bodies as they caressed and cuddled. Finally, Liz grasped his hardness and guided it towards her entrance.

“Love me, Max,” was her tortured whisper as he sank down into her.

“You’re so tight, Liz,” he groaned softly into her hair. “So wet.”

“Oh, God,” Liz bit her lip in intense pleasure that was almost like agony. The bed creaked only slightly as they began to move together.

Without warning, Liz climaxed and released her pleasure in gasps for air. She hung onto Max’s shoulders as he pumped in and out of her body, causing her to stiffen and climax again.

As Max neared the home stretch, he reached down to touch her clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts until she threw back her head in a silent cry of pure ecstasy and the spasms of her inner muscles milked the come from his loins. At that moment, Liz Parker awoke suddenly, panting and gasping for air, feeling the sticky wetness between her legs, a thousand miles and eons away from her memory world. Halfway across the country, Max Evans awoke breathlessly from the exact same dream.

* * *

1224 St. John Circle #17
Metarie, Louisiana
October 24th

Even though it was almost Halloween, it was so hot on the Louisiana coastline that Liz Parker thought she would die. Her once flat-as-a-board locks in Roswell, New Mexico were a wavy mess in New Orleans. She, and Michael, and Isabel had been lucky to find the apartment in Metarie, though Michael had insisted for days that they hadn’t gone far enough. But Liz was tired of running. Every day she wondered where Max, Maria and Kyle were hiding...or had they even made it? Surely Max wouldn’t have split them up…but then again, the priority was keeping them safe, not necessarily together. She made herself stop thinking of them, or she’d go crazy.

As she jotted her thoughts down in her diary, she lifted a glass of ice water to her lips. The condensation from the glass fell off and dripped onto her bare thighs. Looking down to the droplets peppering her olive skin, Liz was reminded of how damn hot it was and couldn’t stand the agony. She stowed the book away and started gathering up her things to go to work.

All three of them worked in the mall—the only real place people their age could find jobs, unless they worked in a convenience store. For some reason, Michael had put his foot down about that for Liz and Isabel. Isabel and Liz worked only part time; Liz in the bookstore and Isabel four doors down in a beauty boutique. Michael worked full time in the coffee shop in an adjacent wing of the mall and part time at night so Liz and Isabel could go too school at the community college during the day. They had been trying to convince him to let go of the night job, considering with their savings they didn’t need the extra money, but they found out why he kept it when he brought home a television set for the living room.

Liz and Isabel would often come home from work to find new appliances and clothing for them. The rent on their little apartment was less than $550 a month, and they had found out why very quickly. While the apartments themselves were great, the neighborhood wasn’t so hot. And then there was the addition of creaky floors, ill-placed light fixtures, and a cantankerous water-heater put the apartment in below their price range.

The girls in the bookstore where Liz worked were always mean to her. It was a feeling new to Liz—being ostracized and humiliated. She now felt was it was like to be Michael. Today was no different.

“Listen, Starla,” one whispered confidentially to the new employee. “Beth Porter is a nut-job. The only reason she got the job in the first place is because the old manager thought she was pretty.”

“Why is she a nut-job?” Starla asked softly, wearily.

“We don’t know,” the other shrugged. “She just does weird things. For instance,” her voice lowered, “one night, we were really close to closing time and I wasn’t feeling so good—the monthly bill and whatnot. So I said something to Jill—you’ll meet her later—about being tired and needing maxi pads. Well, Beth was standing pretty close and heard me, and then she started to cry and freak out.”

“Maybe she’s just never had her period or something,” Starla suggested.

“Well, she got really upset—and her friend Bella, from Claire’s, came running down the mall and started looking at me like it was *my* fault. Then, her other friend Drew comes tearing down here like a wild man from the Java Hut. Anyway, Drew—who’s way cute—just barged right in and asked John—the old manager—if they could take her home.”

“She was probably sick or something,” Starla added.

The other girl gave her a dubious look. “Well, I also know that hot guys stop by here all the time—you know, college types, and when they hit on her, she always turns them down cold.”

“But she has a boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, but Drew is like her brother—apparently all three of them like, live together,” the girl raised her eyebrows suggestively. “They all come and go together. It’s very odd.”

“Hmmm,” Starla mused.

“She’s very stuck-up,” the other one assured her.

"*She’s* stuck up?” Starla asked under her breath as the other employee moved down the book wall.

“Also,” the other girl tacked on, “she’s shut up tighter than a fort. She won’t tell you *anything.* It’s a wonder she made the friends she has now.”

Starla rolled her eyes and looked over at Liz, who was stocking health books. She looked nice enough and probably needed a friend. From over the intercom, the store announced it was closed and Liz wheeled the cart of books to the back and clocked out. As Starla left, a beautiful girl with long, dark hair walked in from down the mall and left with Liz. They walked in front of Starla, their heads close and confidential. A handsome young man stood by the bench at the end of the lobby. He was tall, and had a head of dark hair, carefully slicked back, but starting to stick up and fluff out. Starla watched as he joined the two girls, putting an arm around each.

Behind her, Starla could hear the other girls from the shop laughing loudly and ridiculing the trio. They stood at the bus stop, and as they got on the bus, Starla’s interest heightened and hummed. As she drove away, she vowed to be a friend to Beth, if not all three. She knew instinctively something was going to happen, and she wanted to be on it when it did.

* * *

It was Halloween and Liz Parker felt like shit. She’d been up all night the night before throwing up. And tonight, her shift at the bookstore required she wear the costume of a literary figure. She’d almost thought of going as Virginia Woolf as a joke, but no one would have thought it was funny but her. Finally she settled on Elizabeth Bennett, sort of as a namesake, but mostly because she found a great costume at the Costumer in the mall. She had to wear a binding corset, but these days she was barely breathing, so it didn’t matter.

Isabel had done her hair, pulling her curly locks into braids and bobby pins in order to pile it on the back of her head and make it look decent. Michael walked her to work; though Liz knew he didn’t have to work. Her shift was only four hours, and surprisingly enough, Michael liked to walk up and down the mall. However, it was so hot outside he would probably just go to the food court for a Coke and sit there to read a book or the newspaper.

“You look great,” he squeezed her briefly and left her at the entrance to the bookstore. He didn’t like the girls at the bookstore, and he certainly didn’t want them speculating and gossiping, because that always made Liz upset. Liz stood there sadly, looking at all the other people on the mall who were dressed up and looking fantastic, wishing she could be at home on the couch between Michael and Isabel watching Dave Letterman or The X-Files, or hell, even Michael’s favorite, Close Encounters, for the thousandth time.

He said
Boy made girl feel good,
Still—deep inside—still?…

In the bookstore, an old song by Third Eye Blind reminded her of a date she once had. She shook the thoughts from her mind, and took her dress in her hand, marching to the back to clock in. As she came out, she observed the other employee’s costumes. Jill was dressed as a fairy book princess, and her best friend Emily was dressed in accordance as a mermaid. Starla was dressed as in Victorian style party garb, and their eccentric and slightly odd boss was dressed as Hannibal Lecter.

“Hey, Beth,” Starla greeted her, but Liz didn’t respond, convinced Starla was as mean as Emily and Jill. “Who are you dressed as?”

“Elizabeth Bennett,” Liz replied quickly. “How about you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be Mrs. Dalloway, but I think everyone thinks I’m Mary Poppins on some sort of barbiturates.”

“That’s my favorite book,” Liz responded quietly.

“I know,” Starla answered absently. When Liz gave her a strange look, Starla quickly added, “I’ve seen you in the classics section,” with a blush.

"Yes, well…” Liz trailed off, leaving her there. Liz stayed at the counter. It was only a few minutes until she started feeling dizzy. Her silly corset wasn’t giving her any breath. Jill was guarding the switch to the overhead fans like a Nazi, insisting the motion would mess up her hair. So it was sweltering in the small bookstore, and even the customers were starting to drift out and away.

Liz felt binded—constricted, and the lack of air was making her feel so dizzy she thought she might fall over. She saw Starla walk by several times, but she first saw her body, and then only flashes and stabs of color as she drifted past. From beside her, Jill laughed loudly and pointed. A customer was approaching her and Liz felt her eyes roll back in her head as she looked at the ceiling. Her head was feeling so heavy Liz didn’t think she could hold her head up and she was losing her balance quickly. She tumbled to the floor, hitting her jaw on the edge of the counter. The last thing she thought of as blackness closed her mind’s eye, was Max Evans.

Michael Guerin heard a scream from down the mall, and he looked up sharply from his Icee and his book. He tucked the book in his back pocket and hurtled past a group of elderly people, then past several families and then maneuvered his way through the crowd that had gathered at the entrance of the bookstore. A circle had gathered around the counter.

“Drew,” Starla called to him from behind the counter, “it’s Beth.” Michael catapulted himself over the tall counter and landed beside Liz. On the other side, the two blondest, ditziest bitches Michael had ever seen were whispering behind their palms.

“What have you done to her?” Michael asked darkly, glaring at them.

“Us?” Jill gasped. “What do you mean?”

“What did you do to her?” Michael enunciated each word, as if they were completely stupid.

“Nothing,” Emily answered defensively—a sure sign they’d done something.

“Beth,” Michael whispered quietly, then, in her ear, “Liz, Liz, it’s me.” Nothing. Everyone was standing and staring, and so Michael gathered her into his arms, and her arms hung limply from her body.

“Call a cab,” he ordered, and Starla quickly picked up the phone.

“Shouldn’t I call an ambulance?” she asked frantically.

“No! Call a cab now!” Michael answered, carrying Liz out, past the crowds that were breaking open for him now. Starla followed him out of the mall, like a puppy nipping at his heels.

“Let me help,” she insisted as he stood, waiting for the cab he saw crossing the parking lot towards him.

“Go away!” Michael demanded loudly. “You bitches deserve to rot in hell for the things you say and do to her. Now go away!”

Starla moved off, taken aback, and Michael thought, but couldn’t be sure that she was crying. The cabbie hopped out and moved around to open the door of the cab. Michael slid inside across the leather seats, bringing Liz in behind him. The cabbie shut the door and was in again in seconds.

“The hospital?” he asked immediately.

“No…1224 St. John’s Circle—the Metarie apartments,” he responded, and quickly went to work on opening the front of the bodice of Liz’s dress. He gently laid her across his lap and worked his fingers through the back strings of her corset. As he freed her from the restraints, she took in a deep, shuddering breaths and began coughing. Michael brought her up to his chest and whispered soothingly. She struggled and finally opened her eyes.

“Michael,” she whispered his name as if he were a god. She looked up at him longingly, and Michael knew she was dying to be with Max. Tears filled her eyes and she buried her head in his ribcage. Michael smoothed her hair at an awkward angle until he got to the apartments.

Isabel came running outside and lifted Liz from the cab as Michael paid the driver. As they all struggled inside, Liz Parker felt hopeless.

* * *

I think the reason we take care of Liz the way we do is because we hope that Max is taking care of Maria and Kyle the same way. Nothing is more important to me now than my family, because I know no matter where I am, they are home. I knew I wanted to be with Maria the instant I set eyes on her. I kept telling myself to be a stone wall, and not to let her get under my skin. But there was something about her—something about the way she talked, and the way she would look at me that let me know she was thinking about it too. When she first found out, I wasn’t nearly as upset as I let on, but I was convinced I couldn’t let her know that. As time goes by, I think I’ve figured it out. You can build walls around yourself until you’ve completely shut out everyone in your entire life. But the people that love you will always find a way in.

* * *

Isabel stayed in the bedroom, with the bathroom door ajar as Liz took a bath. As Liz finished, Isabel went to sit in the living room with Michael.

“It’s already getting cold outside,” Isabel reported.

“It’s a damn miracle,” Michael retorted, rubbing his temples.

Liz came in quietly, and joined them both on the couch in the living room, sitting down so she could face them both. She wrapped her arms around her knees, clad in only an old t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I’m pregnant,” she said weakly, knowing that nothing could prepare them for this shock and she might as well not even try.

Michael put his head back in his hands and sighed deeply. “Are you sure?”

“Ben.”

Michael knew she had to be three and a half or four months pregnant already. Isabel looked stricken, and heavy tears formed in her eyes. Liz saw this and responded the same way. Michael took each of them under his arms and held them there as they began to sob uncontrollably. Liz finally managed to worm her way over Michael’s lap and into the space between Michael and Isabel and cradled herself there until she fell asleep. Isabel looked up at Michael once Liz was asleep.

“This is crazy, Michael. We have to convince her to…”

“Bella,” Michael shot her look of warning, ever mindful of what they called one another, even at home. “Even if an abortion was an option to us, we can’t ask her to get rid of it and you know it,” He replied firmly.

“We can’t let her have it…Isabel protested vehemently. “That would be so much of a financial strain. And we can’t put all six of us in danger with this child.”

“We can’t take it away either,” Michael insisted.

“Max would know what to do,” Isabel said quietly, angry at herself.

“Well, *Ben* isn’t here, so we just have to…”

“Maybe we should tell her about the letters,” Isabel whispered.

“And make her more upset than she already is? That’s a great idea, Bella,” Michael responded sarcastically.

“Maybe it will help her,” Isabel knit her brow. “Maybe it will make her feel better—let her know that Ben is still thinking about her. And us.”

“She should know that already,” Michael hissed.

“First of all, she’s a woman. Second of all, she’s pregnant. Her hormones are bouncing off the walls—she’s confused, and upset, and maybe the letters would just calm her down.”

“Or maybe they would just make her miss him more,” Michael retorted.

“She couldn’t possibly get any worse than she already is.”

“You saw her today, Bel…she passed out at work. It can always get worse.”

“Ben told her he’d write to her. Pretty soon she’s going to get suspicious,” Isabel volleyed back.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another broken promise,” Michael broke in.

“You’re treating her like a child, Drew!”

“The same way you and Ben used to treat me?” Michael accused. “The difference is, Bethie likes it this way. If Ben can’t take care of her, it’s the least we can do for him.”

“Beth is not getting any better, Drew! I think if she can’t be with him, and can’t talk to him, it’s the least we can do for *her* is let her have those letters.”

“I say no. She knows Ben loves her, and she knows we’ll all be back together one day. She doesn’t need letters to tell her that.”

“Drew…” Isabel protested once more, then she grew silent.

From between them, a quiet voice responded. “What letters?”

A couple of hours later, after Isabel had gone to bed, Michael rapped on the door to Liz’s bedroom, which she had left ajar because of the heat.

“Hey,” he said quietly. He took in her sitting there, her knees up to her chin. She set the letter she was reading down on the table.

“Hey,” Liz said, taking a deep breath.

“On a scale of one to ten…how, uh…how mad are you?” Michael managed.

“Yeah, I’m pretty mad, still, Drew,” Liz said hesitantly. “I don’t understand why you and Bella felt like you had to keep this from me.”

“You were just so…” Michael halted. “I don’t know. It just didn’t seem like a very good idea to get you all upset.”

“Just give it some time, Drew,” Liz assured. “I’ll be okay.”

“I worry,” Michael admitted, sitting on the bed.

“I know. And I feel so good about being taken care of—I feel safe. I feel really safe.”

“Hey, uh…is there anything from, uh, Ellen in there?” Michael gestured towards the letter.

“Yeah…she’s worried, too. She misses us,” Liz flipped through the letters until she found the one she was looking for. She handed it to him and Michael looked down at Max’s neat handwriting explaining how upset they were and how hard adjusting to their new lives were. It was all very vague and ambiguous, for obvious reasons, but Michael knew how they felt.

“Do you think she misses me…like you miss Ben?” Michael asked.

Liz looked at Michael a little strangely. “Are you okay, Drew?” she asked, taken aback.

“Yeah, why?” Michael asked, uncomfortable.

“We just never talk about this kind of stuff,” Liz raised an eyebrow.

“I guess so,” Michael was trying his very hardest to be nonchalant, so Liz cut him slack.

“You know, the relationship I have with Ben is different from the one you have with Ellen,” Liz began, shifting in her chair to slip a foot underneath her bottom.

“Better?” Michael accused softly.

“No, not better, Drew, just different. You know, Ben and I are different people than you and Ellen. Ben and I are steady, and constant and our love overrules our instincts. We are cautious, and careful—that’s just the sort of people we are. But you and Ellen—I envy the relationship you guys have, because it’s without thought. You don’t think about loving one another—you just do. You guys are reckless—and it’s your passion that makes the love—instead of the other way around,” Liz explained softly, patiently. She blushed. “I know she’s just as upset as I am. She loves you, Michael,” Liz said gently, with conviction.

Michael let her name slip pass without chastising her. He nodded.

“I’m going to bed,” Liz stood up and stretched. She looked at Michael, who was staring at the floor, looking a little forlorn. “Do you want to sleep with me and Bella tonight?” she offered.

Michael looked up, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “No—no, I’ll sleep alone tonight,” he insisted, and Liz nodded, leaving the room. She slipped into queen-sized bed she shared with Isabel and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long night.

I never felt alone…until I met you
I’m alright on my own, and then I met you
And I know what to do if I just knew what’s coming…