PART 6

Michael and Max quickly moved all their files and information into a conference room so other members of their teams could coordinate with them on all parts of the investigation. Sean was with them reading the same reports and marking information on a larger white board with possible leads and contacts. They had the door open when they noticed Cassie Welsh going to Cap’s office. Michael swore aloud, and passed Max another dollar. Sean watched the transaction with interest and after Michael wandered off to check on new reports, he looked at Max.

“So what’s with the money, and how can I get in on the Guerin charity drive?” Sean was estimating that since he met the partners, Max had to have benefited around fifty bucks or so.

Max laughed and shook his head. “It won’t do you any good. I save the money and donate it to a charity in his name. So even I don’t really benefit. I decided on a youth center downtown.”

Sean nodded agreeing that it was a good cause, and one that looked to be personally funded by one Detective Michael Guerin. There was no way that man was cleaning up his language, no matter how long or the cost. He was just too...too profane. “So how about Cassie? What’s that story?”

“Oh, best to walk away from that, Sean. It is a tale of pure unadulterated hatred. Cassie withheld vital information on one of our cases about six months ago, and it cost a life. Michael has a long memory, and Cassie was given notice for it. Since then she has been good, but Michael isn’t necessarily the forgiving type.”

Sean had met Cassie earlier and actually had known her a little before. She was okay, just intense. It was like she was picking your brains, trying to absorb all she could. Sean could understand that kind of dedication and driven behavior. It was the way he led his life. It helped that she had a mean, tight little body with a disturbing glint in her eye that somehow Sean found appealing. A real man-eater--just what the doctor ordered!

They both looked up when Cassie and Cap came out of his office. Cassie had a sheet of paper in her hands and was already talking on the phone, taking an empty desk. Valenti looked at the two of them, but obviously not finding what he wanted quickly scanned the bullpen until his eye lit upon Guerin exiting the elevator.

“Guerin!” Michael looked up to see Jim waving him into his office.

“What’s up Cap?” Jim shut the door behind Michael away from prying eyes and ears. Police officers were the worst gossips.

“Cassie Welsh.” Jim winced at the stream of profanity coming from Michael’s mouth, and watched amused as Michael peeled off a twenty and handed it to him. “Keep your money, you're going to need it.” Michael pushed the cash back into his pocket and watched Valenti with narrowed eyes with a sense of doom hitting first in his stomach and moving upward.

“Why am I going to need it?”

“This not so silent war that you and Welsh have going, it needs to stop. I want you to put your differences aside and get this job done.”

“I don’t trust her. There’s something about her...I don’t know. I lack the words, but she puts my hair on end, and pisses me off!”

Michael couldn’t explain it. When he first met her, he thought she was attractive, someone he might want to know better, but as soon as he moved in her space and got closer, everything changed. He couldn’t explain it or even understand it, but there was something about her. That "something" put him on edge. Every time she moved into his personal domain or interfered in one of his cases, the sense of dislike increased. It wasn’t like what he felt about Liz Parker, who was just dead, dead boring, somewhat whiny, and nondescript. Cassie had all the color and life, but she let superiority and jealousy color her personality black.

“Well I need you to put it aside, or get over it. We need her. Cassie is a damn fine investigator, smart and bordering on almost brilliant...” Jim held up his hand when Michael would have interrupted. “True, she works towards her own ends, and has caused problems. However, I have her personal promise that she won’t get in your way that she’ll only work as a team player. Her computer skills are without a doubt the best around. So now I need you to give me your word that you’ll treat her nicer. Let her be part of the team.”

“Dammit! I’ll try, okay? I’ll try.” Michael rubbed the back of his neck. That was it; he was going to have to suspend his trying to clean up his language until later, because otherwise he was going to have to get a loan.

“Michael, give her a break. Cassie has almost as long a history in the Police Force as you. Her dad, Commander Welsh was one of the finest, meanest, toughest cops you ever wanted to meet. He didn’t raise his children to be losers, to be less than the best.” Michael stopped to listen to what Jim was saying determined to understand what the hell kept Cassie so protected in the Department despite the mistakes she made in the past.

“She’s generational?”

“Yeah, her father, grandfather, and even great-grandfather. Her dad wanted nothing more than to have his sons follow his example, to keep up the family tradition of law enforcement. Unfortunately, his two sons weren’t interested. One became a CPA, and the other a high school English teacher and physical education coach. Cassie was the only one that wanted to be a cop.” Jim sat down on the edge of his desk. “She had two strikes against her. First, her father wasn’t what you would call enlightened, and second, she has severe asthma. She couldn’t even pass the physical exam, let alone the obstacle course.”

“How bad is her asthma really?” Michael never in fact noticed Cassie looking or acting sick, but then again, he chose not to notice her at all.

“Bad. After a few run-ins with you she had full blown attacks.” Jim watched emotions run across Michael’s face was uncertain what they were, how he was feeling. “Strangely enough, she idolizes you. Sees you as the very image she wanted to be, and what you take for pigheaded stubbornness and meddling is actually her trying to simulate you, trying to get your attention.”

Michael swore aloud again. He didn’t have time for this, for Cassie. It was unfair that Valenti using sentimentality to try to get him to give Cassie another chance. It didn’t matter her background, how cheated she was by life. Hell they all have taken hits, and survived! Cassie Welsh was a loose cannon. Michael ignored the fact that many thought of him that way also.

Michael sighed and looked at Jim. “Okay, what exactly do you want from me?”

“Just treat her nicer, smile...” Valenti almost lost it at the expression on Michael’s face. “Let her be an active part of the team, and you might find she is a real asset.”

Michael rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw and rocked back on his heels. He wanted to warn Valenti that if anything went wrong because of Cassie, that this time it could mean Maria, but something stopped him. He refused to sink to the level of emotional blackmail just to get his way. What the hell was going on? Did every person in the whole f-uckin’ city have him on their goody-two-shoes list to turn into a “nice” person? “Fine! What ever you want, Cap.” First the anger management classes, and now this! It was just too much for Michael.

As Michael left the room, he realized there was one person on the list that wasn't trying to shape him into a kind, sappy caring individual. Maria DeLuca. She seemed to think he was perfect the way he was, and surprisingly that bugged the hell out of him. He wanted her to demand more...want more from him, and instead, by merely not demanding and asking, he found himself actually being different around her. Dammit, before he went to bed tonight he was checking under her bed to make sure there were no damn pods there. Body frickin' snatchers, it had to be! Michael never seemed to notice that he equated sleeping with Maria's bed, and intended to stay there.

Valenti smiled to himself as he watched his Detective leave, scratching his head and talking under his breath. Michael Guerin was one confused man, and knowing the source of most of his confusion, Jim had to commiserate with him. These DeLuca women weren't easy. Liking his life, and the fact that he gets his way with his men, ignoring the fact that in his personal life it was Amy that won that right, Jim decided it was time to take care of his newest other pain in the ass Detective-Sean DeLuca.

Michael started back for the conference room when he stopped in his tracks and looked over at Cassie working on the phones. Cassie didn't notice him at first when he stopped at her desk, but looking up from the phone as she was on hold, they made eye contact. Finally hanging up after obtaining information, Cassie looked at him with a brow raised.

"Welsh? What the hell are you doing out here?" Cassie just looked at him in shock. She was working. What the hell did it look like? Lummox. "The team has moved into the conference room, and last time I looked you were on the team." Michael started to walk away, and suddenly looking back at a flabbergasted Cassie, "Oh and Cassie, you might want to get a move on. Sean was talking about ordering food, so unless you have a fondness for meat, meat, and meat, I suggest you get in there with your order quick."

He walked away with a slight smirk on his mouth. Technically not a smile, but the closest he was going to come. Cassie gathered her stuff and headed for the team room walking in a daze. Damn. He actually called her by name!

It was less than an hour later that Cassie made her last call, while eating her third slice of pizza. Michael was correct in his assessment that Sean was ordering everything with meat. Luckily she got a request in for green pepper and black olives before it was too late. Packing up her stuff she was ready to head out for the meeting.

"Michael. I have a meeting at City Hall with the Mayor, Commissioner, and Chancellor. It looks to be a long one, so more than likely not over until eight or nine tonight. Do you want me to check back in here before calling it a night?" Max was surprised how easy Cassie was fitting into the group. For once, she wasn't in everyone's face, and actually proving to be helpful with the computers and phone work.

Michael looked over at Cassie and shook his head no. "If it's that late, just call it a day. I've got you scheduled to work at the museum tomorrow. You can report anything pertinent over there." He had plans tonight. Someone was cooking him dinner, and Michael didn't want to miss the opportunity.

Both Max and Michael watched her leave as Sean rushed after her to talk as she waited for the elevator. The partners looked at each other and shrugged. Sean seemed better equipped to like Cassie more than the rest of them. Personally, Michael didn't care, as long as that meant Sean was going to keep Cassie out of his hair.

They were closing down for the day when the call came on Max's phone. Michael shut his eyes and prayed it wasn't another murder or another case. It wasn't. It was Isabel.

"Hello?" Max frowned at the noise coming from his phone.

"Max? Max! It's Izzy!" She had to scream into the phone over the noise of the club. At just past seven on a Saturday, it was already slamming.

"Iz? Can I talk to you later? We were just..." Max looked at Michael and grimaced. Michael was ready to cuss a river of words. He didn't want to have to give up dinner with Maria to go bail Isabel out of some cheap gin joint or scrape her off some beer-drenched floor. Ever since Sean told him of Maria's story, it was as if his skin was itching...needing to find her, and make sure she was safe. Only cool sanity kept him from picking up the phone half a dozen times to call her.

Isabel's voice quickly interrupted Max. "I found it! Max, your design! The symbol! I found it!"

Tess watched Kyle sleep again. He was getting stronger everyday. He was still in pain, but it was getting better. Today he used fewer painkillers than the day before, and they took a walk around the ward. Kyle was shaky on his feet, but as the day went progressed, he got better. Last night they transferred him out of the ICU and sent him to a general care unit.

It was good to see him resting without the aid of drugs. Tess was hoping he would be released home in the next few days. Maria was being great covering her work and bringing her assignments from the University. Today Maria had dropped off a pizza for Kyle and a turkey sandwich for Tess, while she was on her way to the museum. It was hard not to appreciate how much care Maria gave to them, and how much she worried about their health.

Leaving Kyle sleeping, Tess picked up his jug of water and emptied out the old water. Taking it down the hall to the ice machine, Tess stopped and talked to the unit clerk and nurses. Kyle hadn’t eaten his dinner, so Tess wanted to order him some food for when he woke up. She stood talking to the nurses about the take out menus, trying to decide what he would prefer. A year ago, Kyle’s favorite food was Thai, but that was a year ago.

Tess wasn’t paying much attention to anything as she filled the water jug with ice. The ice machine was in a private alcove. In the evening, they turned down the hall lights to prepare the wards for nighttime. Therefore, when the room was suddenly dark, Tess didn’t really notice or worry. It was the gloved hand that covered her mouth, and the cutting point of a knife in her back that made her gasp and sent her heart racing out of control, with her eyes wide open in fear. The raspy voice was low and indistinguishable. “Where is it?”

With a small whimper behind the glove, Tess felt the tightening of the hand that once covered her mouth grasp her throat, the knife cutting into her side. Shaking her head in fear, Tess tried to deny knowing what the person was wanting. From down the hall, she could hear Kyle’s voice. He must have woken, realized she wasn't there, and gone in search of her. The hall seemed so long, safety was a concept that was alluding when a lunatic held a sharp knife to your back and was choking away your life.

Holding the pitcher of ice in her hand, Tess pushed back into the assailant, and without looking, quickly tossed the ice over her head into her attacker's face. When she stepped back, she actually pushed her body further into the knife. Pulling away, and running out of the dark room, Tess grabbed her side, and screamed Kyle’s name. She could feel a figure brushing pass her, and the sound of a door closing. Leaning against the wall to hold her up, Tess held her hand against her side, blood seeping through the cut on her dress.

“Tess!” She could hear Kyle’s voice and the sounds of running feet before she collapsed to the ground. “Oh God! She’s bleeding! Someone get a doctor...”

Michael and Max walked into Club Hell with quite a stir. It was a player's club, exclusive, and uninhibited. The bands and live music drew in the college crowd and young adults from all of Roswell and outlying smaller communities. The place was a hotbed of drugs and sex, Roswell's answer to an out of control, decadent society. Little surprise that Isabel found a home there. The team of Guerin and Evans walked in practically with the words "Pigs" tattooed on their foreheads. Max had experience with having to walk through crowds. He just walked behind Michael and let the Guerin pissy attitude clear a swath through the throng.

Max saw Isabel first and tapped Michael on the shoulder to point the way. Michael had been busy sneering at a bouncer type and moving the general masses aside with his badboy demeanor. Isabel was sitting at the bar facing the live band playing. The music was loud and loud. Max wasn't sure, but he was impressed. The lead singer was actually singing real words--distinguishable ones! Isabel watched them, almost entranced.

"Iz!" Isabel turned towards her brother at his scream, trying to get over the sound of the band.

"Maxie!" Isabel hugged her brother tight giggling in his ear. Max shook his head violently. The smell of malt liquor was strong, and seemed to seep from Isabel's veins. Discreetly looking down, he checked her arm for tracks. None. Thank God! She had been on a bout of sobriety, obviously ending tonight, but it was good to see she was staying clean.

Isabel looked over to see Michael looking all too official and not too pleased to be in the notorious Club Hell. It was too funny watching him give narrowed-eyed stares at the customers sizing them up for a drug bust, but the sight of her straight-laced morally uptight brother in her world made her giggle even more.

"Iz, wha'tcha got for us?!" Michael asked, wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible. The smell of smoke alone was making him lightheaded. He didn't react well to smoke, especially distinctively good quality reefer. Secondhand narcotic smoke was enough to make him lose all sensation in his back and arms and send tingling in his hands and feet. Max usually just went to sleep. F-uckin' Dorothy Evans and his poppy fields. "The design? Ya said ya found it!"

"I did!" Isabel said happily and pleased with herself. Pointing over at the leader of the band, she smiled very big. Max just frowned as Michael looked closely, and then he saw it. A tattoo. The leader of the band had the design tattooed on his right arm.

They waited in the back room used by the band in-between sets. Looking at Isabel, Michael frowned, trying to ignore Max trying to talk Isabel into leaving and heading home. For some reason that Michael couldn't fathom, Isabel demanded to stay and meet the band with them. Either way, it didn't affect him too much. He just wanted to get this over, get out of the Club, and make it to Maria's after stopping home first for some clean clothes and his overnight kit. He was tired of shaving with her not so sharp razor.

The owner of the Club told the band that the Police wanted to interview them, so they were closing up their last set early. The Club owner refused at first, but Michael found a way to persuade him with just a look. When the man they wanted to talk to arrived, both Michael and Max gave him a real looksee. Seeing Isabel's sudden interest, Michael thought he finally understood why she refused to leave. She wanted to meet him.

"Alex Whitman?" Max asked. The tall lanky young man has long unruly dark curling hair, a sort of beard, piercings on his ears and eyebrow, and numerous tattoos. He wore a leather vest minus a shirt, unfastened, and tight black leather pants, with a belt that had a large buckle, same design as his tattoo.

"Yeah, that's me. You the Cops who wanted to ask me some questions?" The young man's clear eyes glanced over at Isabel and Max saw a glimpse of recognition in the man's eyes. Great. No doubt one of Isabel's many previous encounters. Looking over at his sister, he was worried. He recognized that look in her eyes. She was interested in the young man, and looking at him closely, he just didn't look like her type. But then again, lately, every man looked like Isabel's type.

"I'm Evans, and this is my partner Guerin." Max purposely neglected to introduce Isabel. However, Isabel wouldn't have any of that.

"I'm his sister, Isabel. Isabel Evans." Isabel grabbed the man's hand and shook it lightly smiling at him. Max and Michael were surprised to see the man gently remove his hand from her and smile.

He just nodded at her in friendly way, and asked her if she wouldn't mind talking to his band member Freddie across the room about getting him a cold drink, since he didn't have much time before he needed to be back on stage. Both men were surprised at the charismatic charm of the Alex Whitman.

After Isabel had wandered off, he turned to them and sighed. "I know about your sister. She comes here. A lot. For over six months she's been trying to get invited into the back room with the band, but I put the word out that she is non-admittance."

Max was curious. "Why?" What the hell was wrong with his sister that this man and his band wanted nothing to do with her.

"Dude, she is like the walking wounded! My band, we party, sometimes hard, but nothing harsh. No hard drugs--usually just drink and a little smoke. This bird, she is like too hardcore. But not in the lifestyle way...more like she's drowning, doesn't belong to this life." Alex reached over to a table, took a cigarette from a pack, and lit up. "We don't abuse the already abused. She looks like she can take care of beating up on herself on her own, and I don't want my band members to help. We stick to chicks that make the choice with lots of free will."

Both Michael and Max were surprised at the honesty and insight Alex had. It was hard not to appreciate the gesture, but they still had to question him. "We wanted to ask you about your tattoo and need you to account for some time late on both Monday and Wednesday."

Alex looked at the two out of place Detectives. The well-dressed one was softspoken, overdressed, and not threatening in any way. However, the larger man was different. He looked...mean. Alex took another puff from his smoke and leaned back against the table crossing his legs at the ankle. Intimidation only works if you let it. It is all about the person giving up control. "You arresting me Detectives?"

Max sighed recognizing the look in the young man's eyes. He wasn't going to be helpful. "No, we just need some answers." Alex didn't blink or even break his expression. He just took another draw on his cigarette.

Michael looked at his watch and swore losing all patience. Moving around Max, he grabbed the cigarette from Alex's hand and crushed it on the floor with his shoeheel. Leaning into Alex, right into his face, Michael smiled a smile that had even Max backing up and swearing. Michael was impressed; Alex didn't even break a sweat.

"Mr. Whitman, you've got a choice to make. Either you answer questions here and now, or I run you in as a material witness, lock you up overnight with new potential girlfriends, and will only question you at my leisure...the choice is yours."

Alex stood his ground, unwilling to let the Detective intimidate him no matter how nervous his stomach was feeling. "Well Detective, I've never looked a potential date...in the mouth, and if you're going to be the one to book me, I might find that...exciting." Alex pointedly looked down Michael's body, making himself appear interested and hoping that, 1. Detective Guerin wasn't gay and 2. that he didn't beat the sh-it out of him for making a pass. Alex thought he was safe since of the two Detectives, only the pretty one gave off gay vibes.

Michael growled under his breath and started to ball his fist, when Max intervened. "Mr. Whitman...Alex. We aren't trying to hassle you. We just have a murder case, and that tattoo was found on the victim’s body. If you've had nothing to do with it, we would appreciate some information. We've been looking for that design and my sister saw your tattoo and called."

Max knew that Michael was unhappy about him getting overly chatty with their suspect. However, he just knew that this man wasn't going to yield, and that meant Michael and he could come to blows. Michael in anger management classes had been a pain, but Michael on suspension for beating up a potential suspect would be intolerable. Last time Michael was suspended he spent the whole time loafing on Max's sofa-bitching the entire time.

"Sure, Detective, I gotcha." Alex took a beer from the returning Isabel with a gentle smile. Max noticed the way he avoided her eyes. "Monday. Late? Past midnight? Let's see...we play here mostly every Thursday thru Sunday nights. Sometimes we book elsewhere or privates, but mostly here. Therefore, Monday is like my lazy day. I usually spend it hung. So no, I would've been alone Monday night. Wednesday I think we had a private at a Frat house, but that might have been Tuesday. I'll have to check my schedule. But if it was Wednesday then we played until two A.M. and then I bedded a co-ed that wouldn't stop talking named...Gloria, I think?"

"And if it was Tuesday?" Max asked not liking Isabel's frown about Alex's sex activities.

"Well, if it was Tuesday, then still the same. I f-ucked Gloria until about 6 A.M. then rolled over to sleep, spent the rest of the day hung and wondering how the hell I was going to get her out of my crib." Alex tossed back the rest of his beer and motioned Freddie to bring him another one. "But I would've been alone Wednesday night as well then."

Max made a note to get Alex's schedule so they could clear him for at least one night, and check up his story with the...talkative Gloria. "And the tattoo?" Alex looked down at the design.

"Really can't help you much there. I've had the tattoo for about ten years, since I was about sixteen. My parents were world travelers. My dad was a CEO of a large corporation. Computers. And when I was sixteen we traveled to the British Isles. I saw this carving in the Highlands of Scotland and later Ireland, and asked a local. He said it was found all over the British Isles. It was the symbol of a legendary witch named Dru Rhiannon, a Celtic Druid witch, from way back before time was time. Anyway, I liked the symbol, copied it, had a buckle made of it, and when my parents weren't watching had myself tattooed. It's unique."

"Do you know why the symbol is significant?" Max asked writing down the information.

"No, not really. I was just told that this witch was the basis of some of the Arthurian legends, like the Lady of the Lake, and that she was a warrior witch that was fabled to fight in battle so strong that no weapon forged by man could kill her. Some more weird story about her lover, a soldier of Gaul, and how she protected him in her spell, so that he too was protected and stronger than ordinary men." Alex stopped to take his drink. "Really, it was a interesting tale, but at sixteen? I was more concerned about how cool the design was and if chicks would like it..." Alex looked discreetly over at Michael and smirked, deciding to push the envelope a little. "Chicks and studs. What do you think..." Alex lowered his voice a little huskily and looked appealingly at Michael. "Is it sexy? Does it get you hot?"

Alex actually backed off a little as Michael growled and started for him, Max stepping in his path. "Peace, Detective...I'm a lover, not a fighter...if you're interested." Moving away from them before the Detective killed him, ignoring the frowning Isabel, Alex headed back to work. "So if you need anymore answers, here I am, and next time? It'll require a warrant or...a kiss from the big guy." Alex hurried to leave the room before he was gaybashed by a big heterosexual cop.

On their way out the door, Isabel decided to ride home with them. She couldn't begin to express how disappointed she was that Alex was gay, and that he was hitting on Michael. Michael! For god sakes, what was the world coming to? Michael was a walking advertisement for rutting heterosexual sex! Didn't gay men have some kind of radar or something?

"I can't believe he's gay!" Michael looked at Isabel in the backseat and rolled his eyes.

"He's not. He was just purposely putting me out, to keep control. The little sh-it! I should've broken his nose for him, or thrown him in holding. We'd see how brave talking he stayed after a night with some Johnnies." Michael was still pissed that the tall thin man was unshakeable. The sexual come-ons didn't bother him as much as realizing what Alex was doing. Michael had little to no problem with his own sexuality, and especially over the last few days, even less than usual. Alex used a ploy to remove intimidation, and answer the questions only as much as he wanted. They were going to check up on the little prick, and if his story didn't hold, they were going to drag his worthless carcass in for more questioning.

"Damn." Isabel said under her breath in the back of the seat. For the past few months, she had tried to get close to the leader of the band. He interested her from afar. Rumors from the girls in the Club had her intrigued. Tonight she actually believed that he was gay, that he was hitting on Michael. It was so easy to believe because he avoided her like that plague. Men didn't avoid Isabel Evans, but this one did. It was easier to believe he was gay, then to think that he didn't want to know her. "Damn." She said again.

Isabel was deep in thought that she didn't notice that they were at Michael's until he got out to the car and opened her door so she could move to the front. "Not sleeping at the new girlfriend's house, Michael?" Isabel asked with a smirk wanting to see Michael bristle up at the word "girlfriend".

"None of your business, Iz, but hell yeah! Just stopping for some fresh clothes and my overnight stuff." Michael noticed Isabel's unhappy frown. It wasn't that she didn't want him and Max to find people that made them happy, but seeing them involved with people reminded her how meaningless her life was...how meaningless all the sex was.

"So you...like this woman? I mean really like her?" Michael just shut the door and leaned in to talk to Max.

"Pick me up at Maria's at ten, okay?" Max nodded and pulled away not bothering to wait to see if Michael answered Isabel's question. Michael's silence said it all.

Maria ended up working later than she planned. It was eight thirty by the time she left the museum with Liz. Sean had stopped by earlier and said he had some leads to chase down, and then a late date, and could Liz make sure Maria made it home safe.

Liz smiled at the snort Maria gave at being babysat by the Roswell PD, but she was trying to be cooperative since she had promised Michael that she would stay safe and keep out of trouble. Maria noticed that Liz's whole body stiffening at the news that Sean had a date, and couldn't help but wonder what was going on. She could've sworn that Liz was attracted to Max Evans, but here she was acting jealous over Sean. It didn't make sense.

When they made it to Maria's place, she tried to talk Liz into taking off and going home. Liz refused. She didn't want to leave Maria alone, even with a security system on, until someone...meaning Michael, showed up. So finally giving up, Maria went upstairs to shower and change. When she came down the stairs, she overheard Liz on the phone.

"No, I won't be that late. I'm just staying until someone else shows up." Liz paused and listened to the conversation on the other end. "No, I promise. If something changes and I have to stay the night, I'll call. I promise. Okay, love you." Liz hung up the phone and stood there just staring at it for a few moments.

"Your husband?" Maria asked startling Liz out of her thoughts.

"No. I'm not married."

"Oh. Lover?"

Liz actually smiled at that. "No. Believe it or not, parents. More specifically, mom."

"No! Not you, too!" Maria smiled coming down the stairs. "Oh god! You have to meet my mom. She is quite the character. And protective? It's like being one of those baby seals that hunters bash their heads in...my mom throws herself in front of me, just like she is one of the environmentalist trying to save a seal! It's terrifying at times. Thank god she's not here!"

"Well I bet you don't live here with your mom?"

Maria's curiosity was piqued. Going into the kitchen she began to take out all the stuff she needed to make dinner. Pushing over all the vegetables towards Liz to get her to make the salad, Maria started to assemble all the ingredients for pastry dough. She was making a baked salmon pie to go with the salad. Checking her refrigerator quickly, she was glad to see she still had a few bottles of white wine. Taking out a bottle of California Zinfandel from her wine rack of reds, she poured her and Liz a glass.

"So what's the story?"

Liz took a sip of the wine, surprised at the robust flavor. She only really tried the White Zinfandel, but this stuff was great. "Not really that interesting." Liz laughed at the thought, rolling her eyes. As if her life was in any way interesting, but Maria didn't shrug it off. She kept her interest on Liz and patiently waited. Liz frowned, watching Maria cook. She always wanted to learn to cook things other than fast food stuff, but at home her mom did all the cooking.

"It's nothing really. I mean, I did leave home to go to college, but my parents, especially my mom didn't do too well. So, when this job came open, I took it. And I've been living at home every since, about four years now." Liz took another drink liking how it left her insides warm. It's been years since she could remember feeling warm inside.

"Liz Parker! That story was a disgrace! You can't just outline a life like it was hardly lived. Everyone has a tale to tell. But to make it easier for you, I will do a quid pro quo with you. For telling me a story about you, I will spill a delicious one about me." Liz laughed at the idea, like there could ever be a story she could tell to compare with this colorful creature and her life.

"Michael Guerin?" Liz laughed when suddenly Maria tossed back her head and laughed shaking her head no.

"Sorry, but no. He's off limits."

"Okay." Liz took another drink, and then started making the salad. She loved how Maria's kitchen had a small sink in the island bar allowing her to wash the vegetables and giving her plenty of room to work. "It started when I died when I was sixteen."

Maria stopped working for a moment to stare at Liz in amazement. Died?

"Actually, no, that's not true. It started when I was thirteen, and my sister Rosa died. She committed suicide." Liz was too busy talking and making the salad to see the look of compassion on Maria's face. "Rosa was so beautiful, my big sister. She was four years older than I was, seventeen. It was strange that one day she was my sister, smart, beautiful, and alive. And the next day, she was just dead."

"What happened?" Liz looked up at Maria's quiet question.

"What always happens? A man. Really, a boy, but to Rosa he was a man, her man. When she met Tommy, he was everything to her. She went from being a small town girl to being someone, or at least that's how she saw it. Before him, she was a straight A student with dreams, big dreams to leave Roswell. But then she met Tommy, everything, and I mean everything revolved around him." Liz took another drink. "She started skipping school, lying to our parents, taking off on unexplained trips, staying out all night, and basically worrying my parents to death"

Maria groaned under her breath, already sort of knowing how this was going to end. "She complained about how her other girlfriends were treated poorly by their boyfriends, how they would ignore them, or treat them cruelly. What she didn't see was how much worse off her life was. She gave up everything for him, and it was always about him, everything. Until one day, he talked her into doing drugs. What started as a small thing soon became a big problem. She was hooked, and Tommy wanted more. He talked Rosa into going with him to Mexico, getting some drugs, and sneaking them across the border. Rosa, she said yes."

"So she was arrested?" Maria took the salmon from the refrigerator and started seasoning it while the pastry rested.

"No. She didn't get to go. Before they were scheduled to leave, my mother found a stash of drugs in Rosa's room. They grounded her and refused to allow her to ever see Tommy again. He went without her, and he died trying to elude the police. Rosa was convinced that had she been with him it would've been okay. Not being able to take not having him in her life, she took a bath and slit her wrists. My mother found her."

"Damn." Maria took a drink of the wine staring at the smaller woman.

"It was strange. One day I was a sister, and the next I was an only child, with hysterically overprotective parents. I couldn't believe it, how insane it all was! I mean it was amazing how a seventeen year old girl could give up her life and dreams for a man, a man she felt was her "soulmate", all at an age too young to really even know what true love is." Liz looked at Maria with sad eyes. "So many young girls look at their boyfriends and really, and I mean really feel that they'll love that person forever. Then one day, years later, they barely can remember the guy’s name. What if Tommy was that? What if who she thought was her "soulmate" was merely infatuation? And how can you tell the difference except over time?" Liz just shrugged. "What really pissed me off, was that if he was her soulmate, then why wasn't she his? I mean what kind of "soulmate" demands total loyalty, that she give up everything for him, but he gives up nothing for her, or doesn't even worry about her giving up her dreams?"

"I don't know." Maria said quietly, not wanting to disturb Liz. It seemed she needed to get it out, as if Maria was the first person she ever talked to about it, and this was her chance to finally come to terms with her sister's death.

"Anyway, that's how it started."

"How what started?"

"Oh, the perfection of Liz Parker." Liz finished her glass of wine and smiled when Maria poured her more. "My parents were devastated. I mean really devastated! They couldn't stop thinking that they were the ones that did something wrong. Then there was me, another Rosa, waiting to happen. So suddenly I had to work hard, be brilliant, be perfect, the perfect child. Everyone, and I mean everyone in town was watching and scrutinizing me...waiting for me to kill myself too."

"Were you perfect?" Maria couldn't imagine anything more stifling to personal growth. No wonder Liz seemed so timid and afraid, blending into the background! People who lived at the foreground were more heavily scrutinized. Often those images of being perfect were ripped away.

"Sure, of course I was. I never spoke out of turn, always did my homework, passed the classes, obeyed my parents, dated only "good" boys, and I never, never lived."

Maria frowned, watching Liz polish off another glass of wine and reach for the bottle. "Is that what you meant about dying?"

"Oh no! That was just a part of the story. When I was sixteen, I was working in my parent’s diner, the CrashDown. Two customers got into a fight, one pulled a gun and I got in the way." Maria watched horrified as Liz opened her shirt and showed Maria a large scar on her stomach. "I died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. However, some doctor with a god complex in the ER decided to bring me back, and after surgery and six months in the hospital I finally came home. I can’t have children, ever. Not after this." Liz finished making the salad and passed it to Maria. "Anyway, that was when I became a ghost."

"A ghost? I don't understand." Maria frowned at the look in Liz's eyes. She was scaring her, making her wish for something, anything she could say, to bring life to those dead brown eyes.

Liz laughed. "That's because you're so alive! I envy that. And when I'm around you, I get some of your life-force. But no, I died, and I think my "spirit" or whatever it is that makes you you, left my body and floated away, maybe looking for Rosa. Anyway, when they brought me back, part of me didn't return, and I've been a ghost since. A walking undead. Neither alive nor dead, just a shell of a body who forgot to stay down." Maria didn't know what to say, so she just listened. "I tried everything to find something, some feeling. In college I dated men, men who wanted sex, lots of sex. Then I gave it up for Lent one year, and haven't gone back. It was just meaningless, hardly anything worth mentioning. My mother had a meltdown, literally. So I moved home and have been there ever since. I’m trapped in my sixteen-year-old body, inside my sixteen-year-old home, and inside my sixteen-year-old room. See, I died, and my ghost hangs around for my parents sake, and someone forgot to tell me that I died."

"Okay, Parker, that was a story, among stories, and too depressing to take on an empty stomach and a bottle of wine. This calls for the double guns." Maria said standing up. She wanted a story, but not this one. It was too sad...too much. This young woman avoided life and lived it scurrying from one place to another, but something needed to break. "Name your poison. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?" Maria scrambled to find something to turn thing away from the depressing story of Liz's life.

"Vanilla." Liz said downing the last of her wine feeling warm inside, and finally alive. Maria. It was all because of Maria. Liz never wanted to go home again.

"Vanilla? Damn! You're right! You've got to be a ghost." Maria went to look into the refrigerator for the French style Vanilla Bean ice cream she bought over a week ago for frozen cappuccino treats. Hoping Sean hadn't wolfed it down, she was glad to see it was still there. "Well, time to shake up your world. I'm covering yours in hot fudge."

Maria grabbed the ice cream, a jar of hot fudge pouring some in a bowl and microwaved it. Then getting out spoons and chopped nuts, she took the stuff around the bar and sat on a stool next to Liz handing her a spoon. Liz watched as Maria opened up the ice cream, turned the hot fudge over the top of it, tossed in the nuts, and got up to get some whipped cream out of the refrigerator. "I was saving this for Michael, but I can wait until later."

"He likes whipped cream?" Liz asked taking the spoon and following Maria's lead, digging in.

Maria looked at her and smiled. "No clue, but I do!"

Liz was confused for just a few seconds and suddenly she started to laugh, embarrassed at the thought of what exactly Maria meant about saving it for Michael. Not to eat, stupid! At least not for Michael to eat. "God, you make me feel better!" Liz smiled at how wacky and free Maria was, how uninhibited. "I wish you had been my friend all those years ago. It would’ve stopped me from being a ghost. Maybe you could've sat at my hospital bed and talked my spirit into staying."

"I'm glad that you feel better. But I don't know that I've got the strength to anchor a spirit. Let's don't test it out, okay?" Maria ate another bite slowly, licking the sweetness off her spoon. Smiling at Liz with mischief in her eyes she said, "So, my turn. Did I ever tell you about the time I was arrested in a house of "ill repute" in New Orleans..."

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | Fic