something from the archives: after vegas - part 2

chapter two picks up the story from liz's side of the story. one of the challenges of writing this particular story was that i had to make sure that i was making each journal entry in each character's distinct voice. i'm pretty sure i did okay with michael and liz, but the others i'm not so sure about. we'll see what you think when we get there.

anyway you can read the second chapter after the break. catch up with chapter 1 here.

Part 2
*Liz’s journal*

Sometimes you get so bogged down in the what ifs and what could have beens that you don’t even realize what is going on right now. That road trip we took to Las Vegas was supposed to help me get over the future I was supposed to have. The future I gave up to save Max.

On our last day there Max told me he had a vision of us while he left the hotel. We were dressed for a wedding, our wedding, and I was in his arms and he was twirling us around. How was I to tell him that it really happened? That two years from now we would have gotten married in an Elvis chapel, and would have lived so very happily together.

And that it could never happen because it would mean the end of the world.
That our love for each other would destroy the entire world. How messed up is that?

How could I explain that what he saw was like some glitch in the matrix, where a future moment in time still hadn’t let go of its stranglehold and coexisted on the same plane as us for a second before being forced to let go.

Of course, that explanation wouldn’t work if time were linear, but I feel like I’ve had enough evidence that time exists on a plane and that the point of intersection can theoretically affect the human psyche if it were hyper-aware, which would feasibly explain the existence of psychics, as people who are aware of time on more than one level. But I don’t really have the space to get into all the specifics. Although if I were to continue along that vein it could very well lead to proof that time as we conceptualize it does not exist, therefore…

Right, suffice to say that hearing Max tell me about the flash, I felt my heart get ripped into shreds. Dancing in his arms was like a special sort of heaven and hell. We held hands all the way back to the suite. For those moments before Valenti caught us, I thought that maybe it was our chance to reconnect.

Unfortunately (or is it fortunate, I no longer know) I had time to regain my focus. I can’t betray Max. Even though he may not exist anymore. I can’t let him know what I’ve done and haven’t done. I can only hope he knows in his heart that I truly love him, that I did it all out of love for him.

I’ve really got to move on.

Since getting back to Roswell I haven’t seen much of him. I haven’t seen much of anybody. Well, that’s not completely true.

Alex is always stopping in at the Crashdown. He didn’t really get into a load of trouble. Not like the rest of us. Excluding Michael of course.
Maria, I think has it the worst. Max and Isabel just have been spending a lot of time with their parents, but they like doing that anyway. Kyle, Tess, and Maria have been spending a lot of time with each other as well, basically forced to chaperone Valenti and Amy. Pure torture. And loads of ick factor.

At school Maria and Alex have been holed up together working on some singing project. I thought after the whole deal on Valentine’s Day last year, Maria and Alex would never play together again. But it looks like they’ve gotten past those issues. I think
Maria is well on her way to being an official member of The Whits. And I guess I’m really excited for them. Although I do feel a little excluded. They have this thing they can do together and love to do. And I’m not a part of it, and considering my singing voice, I shouldn’t be.

With Maria in so much trouble with her mom, I barely get to see her. When we work, it’s been a madhouse at the Crashdown and then she has to go straight home. Her mom picks her up and drops her off. Not even Sean is allowed to, Amy’s really keeping tabs on her daughter.

Speaking of Sean, I think we’re really becoming good friends. At one point I thought, “maybe he’s the guy who can help me get over Max”, but after the whole thing in Vegas. I guess I’m looking for more than whatever I can have with Sean. I want a real connection. I need a connection if I’m going to move on.

Something like my connection with Max. Just as strong. Or stronger. I can’t help but wonder if it’s an alien thing though. Because if it is…

This is getting to be depressing.

I’ve also been spending time with Michael. I know, how weird is that? I swear instead of returning to Roswell, we’ve been sucked into the twilight zone. Michael even had dinner with my parents and me.

It was surprisingly nice. Dad’s always liked Michael. And even Mom warmed up to him a bit. Which is amazing, she doesn’t tend to warm up to anyone. She doesn’t like Alex, for goodness’ sake. How Michael won my parents over is something I’ll never figure out.

Ok, so last night I had dinner with Michael. I mean he made me dinner. My favorite, fajitas.

Did I mention he made them himself? It was really sweet of him.

I was surprised he knew that they were my favorite. He wouldn’t tell me how it was he knew.* I guess Maria told him.

It was a really nice dinner. I had a really great time. We actually had civilized conversation for an entire evening. And we had never managed that before. But after Vegas, things in the group are all different. And maybe my improved relationship with Michael is one of those things.

It’s funny because I’ve been spending a lot of time alone with Michael. I mean we’ve never really talked before. Mainly because he’s not much of a talker. And also because
I thought he didn’t like me.

But I guess that isn’t true.

Spending time with him is so wonderful. He is not at all demanding. He doesn’t need me to play a role. Be someone I’m not or someone I can’t be.

Unlike Max.

And Maria. And my parents for that matter.

It’s weird how well Michael knows me without me having to say a word.

*I just remembered how he knew about my love of fajitas. He read my journal. The jerk. Which is probably the reason he knows me so well. Although remembering his words when he brought it back, I guess that’s why I’d forgotten about the whole thing. What did he mean when he said “Thank you for giving me one more reason to envy Max Evans.”? How can you be mad at someone who says something like that to you?

I should really be mad about it, but it’s kind of a relief. Knowing that I don’t have to explain myself. That he knows.

That he understands. Which is probably the best part of it all.

In a way I think I know him too. I understand him.

It’s so nice to be able to sit in complete silence with someone and not feel pressured to make small talk. After dinner we sat and watched an old Hitchcock movie, The Birds, which really freaked me out. I mean the special effects were so cheesy, but it was such a chilling film. Michael was really cool about it. He made sure I felt safe.
Michael even had to walk me home because I was so freaked. We had some ice cream on my balcony. We didn’t talk much. At all actually. I just watched him as he drew. Pretending to be writing in this journal. But I was mesmerized by the way he held the pencil in his hands, the way he concentrated on the blank piece of paper. Changing it from nothing to everything.

It was really late when he left.

And he’d left behind his sketch. So I took a look. I mean, he’s read my journal. And he left his sketch behind, so obviously he wanted me to see it. Right?

He had drawn me.

I don’t know what to think. I mean what does a drawing mean? Did he leave it behind on purpose? Did he mean for me to see it?

Because it was beautiful.

And I don’t know what to think.