The Art of Remembering

Author: Cookieman aka Stacey
Email: Cookieman123@go.com
Category: M/L
Rating: PG 13 to R for language mostly
Disclaimer: Shockingly enough, I do not own these characters. This can be proven by many existing plotlines and of course, anything involving Tess. Many other people own these characters. They may not deserve them, but there you go. I’m borrowing them. I promise to give them back after some snuggles because they are going to need it.

Author's Note and Summary all rolled into one: This follows my story "The Art of Forgetting" and really, this story won’t make a freaking lick of sense if you don’t read that one first. It’s short, so have no fear. This picks up the morning after…well, from where the first one left off. It will conclude my jaunt into this universe. I hope you’ve all had fun. It was pretty interesting to write. Oh, and Abbi, Cookie, and David still get hugs for helping me out and basically listening to me ramble incoherently about how badly I suck as a writer. And oh boy, were those emails plentiful.

O! that I were as great
As my grief, or lesser than my name,
Or that I could forget what I have been,
Or not remember what I must be now.
…William Shakespeare, Richard II

The Art of Remembering

Struggling through the fog in her brain, Liz opened her eyes lazily. She felt Max’s gaze before her brain could even comprehend what it meant. Sleepy eyes met sharp, awake ones and here…here was the moment she’d felt the loss of twenty-four hours ago. This was the intimate moment they’d never had the chance to create, the memory she’d mourned never having. A moment that maybe should never have been. Except it was too late now.

The second thought to penetrate the sticky web of sleep was that they were going to have to have a serious conversation about the way he seemed to watch her sleep constantly. And didn’t Max sleep? Ever? She had yet to see him perform the act and it was just another odd piece to the puzzle that was Max.

He was sharing her pillow. Thought number three, and she would be completely awake soon which was a pity since she was feeling particularly dreamy at the moment. Better than alcohol and with less of a chance to fall onto a pile of glass. His head was so close she knew that his scent would linger on her skin for hours, cling to her like the clean smell of soap that washed all the earlier grime away.

She wanted to lean forward, close that ridiculously non-existent space with a morning kiss. It would be sleepy and warm, slow and it would taste like the youthful innocence they’d never had. But gaps that were measured in breaths were harder to close than those of miles. In all the lessons she’d learned in the last two days, Liz had learned a lot about exceptions. With sleepy distance still standing between them, it was easy to see how last night had been another of them, a kiss stolen from the depths of a long, dark night with fireplaces and shadows.

How had they ever gotten to the kissing last night anyway?

"Good morning." He offered her a slow, sleepy smile she knew she was mirroring despite the confusion.

"Good morning yourself." Liz couldn’t think of another conversation she’d ever had where simple words held a thousand different meanings. Except for every conversation she’d ever had with Max. Simple phrases like How are you? and Would you like a refill? had been code for less innocent thoughts. Often, they’d meant Now and Yes and occasionally more no matter what the actual spoken words had been. But then grins could have easily been interpreted as so very much more too and had played out as unspoken NC-17 rated possibilities. She was beginning to remember it all so clearly now.

It felt suspiciously like a grin stretched across her face now, a genuine one. But that couldn’t be. She didn’t grin like a Cheshire cat. Then again, she had a sneaking suspicion that neither did Max, yet there was his grin.

"Hungry?"

She was, but wasn’t ready to admit it. On a number of levels. "Why are you always trying to feed me?"

"Because it doesn’t look like you’ve eaten in weeks."

It had been years since she’d even felt hungry, but he didn’t need to know that. Liz held her grin, letting his sharp eyes watch her, judge her every move. She gave thought to being mysterious, to doing something outrageously coy because she could. Because for the first time in years, she felt free enough to do it. Instead, she settled for a small grin, not really big enough to mean anything. Max could take what he wanted from it.

"Are you going to cook for me?" Almost too late she remembered that actual conversations consisted of a series of replies to the other person’s statements. Even if it was with Max, who could have whole conversations with his eyes alone. And she felt the need to say something, anything, just to feel the shared pillow vibrate from his voice. It was easy to believe that this was the reason small talk was created.

"If you eat."

"Depends on what you cook." Points scored for quick recovery and rebuttal. She just might regain her grasp on this whole conversation thing after all. It was unbelievably freeing to be capable of banter still, even over something as inane as breakfast. And Max was still inches from her, smiling that smile. Yet they were further than they’d been when they’d crawled into the bed hours before. Their limbs were still tangled beneath the sheets, but the distance between them was looming. It came from nowhere, seeming to take them both by surprise, but then it was there and impossible to ignore.

Liz needed air.

"I guess I should check the pantry." Max felt it too apparently. The warmth from his smile receded, pulled back into the downward spiraling desert sands, until Max’s face was neutral. He slipped from the bed, untangling limbs and pushing back covers until Liz felt his absence like a physical ache. She didn’t stir in the bed, wanting to wait until he was gone to…what? Cry? Scream? Rebuild her walls higher than before and cover them with a sticky glue that kept unwanted visitors out?

What the hell had she been thinking the night before? Why had she thought it could all be brushed under a rug? Oppressive and noticeable like a lumpy corpse under an antique floor rug, and the two of them sitting in high backed chairs sipping tea and pretending not to see it. The image caused something to bubble in her throat, too close to a real truth. They’d been fooling themselves in the night, falling prey to nostalgia and loneliness and firelight.

And why hadn’t Max left yet?

He was still in the doorway, lingering with his back turned. It hurt to breathe, to watch him stand there and come to the same realizations she was coming to herself. The air was too cold. She wanted him to leave, keep moving until he was gone and his presence was nothing more than another memory she could block out with conscious thought. Yet, when his head tilted back towards her in the slightest way, Liz followed the movement desperately.

"Leave your hair down." Mischievous grin, something like a smirk and an almost laugh with a glimmer of hope. It left her with the distinct impression that he was daring her to defy all the rules with him. This was the part of the morning after that was supposed to be filled with awkward pauses and even more awkward silences where they tried to untangle themselves from each other again. The grin asked her to ignore the voice in her head that used logic and reason to win its arguments. It was insane. Ludicrous. Captivating.

And that was what she’d been thinking last night with the kiss and the invitation to sleep in the yellow bed. If Max had indeed slept at all. It had been the memory of that look, that spark that she wanted to see, recapture and hold tightly inside until logic and reason dared not tread.

"I still love you." If there had been any doubt last night about her apparent head trauma, that was all cleared up now. It was quickly becoming embarrassing how her brain and mouth were operating independently these days. She would have to get it checked out. Soon. Before she made any more grandiose statements that caused awkward pauses in conversation. Only, it wasn’t so awkward the way Max was looking at her, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear if he blinked. Or maybe that she would just take the words back. And no matter what else the day held, the words would be his. A gift she hadn’t known he’d needed. So, she offered a smile to go with them and found that it felt more genuine than anything she remembered.

"And I’d love blueberry pancakes."

Eyes narrowed for a heartbeat before nodding and she wondered what he was thinking. It was his intense look, when he puzzled out something particularly difficult like how to out think Nicholas, or…math. "I’ll see what I can do."

He did leave then, but he didn’t suck the life and warmth from the room as she’d feared. Showers were first, no matter how tempting it was to leave Max’s scent on her skin. A brief internal battle over her hair ended when she caught herself glaring into the mirror.

She left her hair down.

Liz made it back into the kitchen in a record ten minutes. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear all black though, choosing instead to wear a burgundy turtleneck over dark slacks. Josh had loved her in burgundy. He would approve.

A stack of blueberry pancakes large enough for ten people awaited her at the table. Which was odd because Josh had been allergic to blueberries. She remembered that now. Had it been a test she hadn’t even realized she’d been giving Max? It was probably better not to ask about the origin of the blueberries.

"I found blueberry pancake mix in the back of the pantry. It might taste a bit off."

And, oh. Liz frowned, not sure why it bothered her that Max hadn’t simply whipped up blueberries from thin air or…whatever blueberries could be sprung from.

Settling at the table, the haphazard row of spice racks on the counter caught her eye. She hadn’t finished arranging them by color yesterday, having spent too much time deciding what to do with all the varying shades of green. Instinct had her muscles coiled to move, to finish the task. Her brain could do with some inane tasks to think some of this through. But then Max moved toward her carrying a plate of what smelled like bacon and she wavered. He tilted his head to the side, watching her curiously. She caught the briefest flicker of a smile as he noticed her hair and the decision was made. Instinct had never done her any good anyway.

Questions hung in the air between them, waiting to be plucked like ripe fruit and thrown into discussion. Max would answer anything she asked him, just as she would tell him anything he wanted to hear. She’d already told him the important things anyway. What was left after her admission of love and request for pancakes? But there was still…well, everything.

Liz tried to push the swirling questions away and concentrated on the food instead. "Pancakes and bacon? I don’t remember asking for all this." She reached for a napkin and allowed Max to heap enough food onto her plate for an army. There was absolutely no way she would be able to eat as much as he obviously expected her to, yet she found that she didn’t want to disappoint him. It was that odd thought that accompanied her as she dove into the pancakes.

Max sipped at a cup of coffee, working his way through his own plate of food as he watched her carefully. "I’ve been thinking."

Which could be bad. Very bad. Liz scooped up another bite of pancakes and stuffed them into her mouth before it had the chance to say something unchecked by her brain first. And she waited.

"Most of the things that need to be done were taken care of yesterday." Max was staring into the bottom of his coffee mug. Liz knew. She was watching him, almost forgetting to swallow the mouthful of food. She sipped from her own mug, not wanting to think about how Max remembered how she took her coffee. And since she still didn’t trust her mouth not to get her into further trouble, she simply let it make a noncommittal noise. If this was the part where he told her he had to leave because she didn’t need him around anymore, she wouldn’t stop him. After all, there wasn’t anything more than a single firelight kiss between them.

And nine years, two months and two weeks. Give or take. But who was counting?

She averted her eyes when he glanced up at her. The bacon she forced into her mouth had no flavor.

"Can we go somewhere today? Alone? I…we need to talk and I’m not sure this is the best place to do it."

Shock had Liz raising her eyes. The bacon strip hung limply in her hand, forgotten. "Go somewhere?"

Max was nodding, holding her gaze now that he had it. "I need to tell you…things. We need to talk about a lot that’s happened, that we discovered on Antar."

He was talking about Alex and Tess. Liz could read it in his eyes from even here. He wasn’t sure if she knew the truth and wanted to find a way to explain it all to her. "I know about Alex, Max." Voice barely a whisper, but she knew he’d heard her. A glance at her plate showed that she’d eaten most of the food Max had shoveled onto her plate. She didn’t remember any of it.

"I’m sorry, Liz."

Liz saw his hand edging across the distance between them and she pushed away from the table abruptly. She wiped the stickiness of the maple syrup from her mouth and tossed the shredded napkin on her plate. "You’re right. We shouldn’t talk about this here."

She was angry again, angry with Max, with Tess, with the world. Angry that the boy she’d grown up with wasn’t there any more. He was resting six feet under, rotting in the cold, unforgiving earth. Just like Josh would be in forty-eight hours. And Liz had decided a long time ago that the world was unfair, but this was suddenly too much to be faced with at once. But before she could go any further, before she could say another word to Max, she had to know the truth about one thing.

"Is she still alive?"

"No." Not a second of hesitation in that answer.

A corner of the anger abated, fell away and allowed her to breathe again. Max was unreadable, had pulled deep within himself. He was still sitting at the glass table and staring down at the plate of uneaten pancakes. He had scars; horrible, jagged, ugly scars. And none of them were visible to the naked eye unless you knew where to look. There were questions, just as she’d known there would be. A million of them. And it would get worse before it got better. If it got better.

"There’s a park." She watched as his eyes raised slightly, wavering as they met hers. "You can drive."

The silence was less than companionable, but they made due. Liz stayed lost in her own thoughts for the short drive, letting them roll around in her head. The park wasn’t far, and Liz gave him the shortest directions possible. There were things she needed to say, things she had to hear. And would she have even been able to imagine her life being like this seventy-two hours ago? It seemed absurd to even think about, yet here she was on the way to a park to talk about a war on another planet and how it impacted a potential relationship.

And she’d once thought she’d reached and exceeded the limits on the bizarre in high school.

Pulling into the parking lot, Max cut the engine on the car. Liz didn’t want to move anymore than Max seemed to. She sneaked a peek and found his hands still gripping the steering wheel in a perfect ten and two angle.

And did it really matter if they were outside beneath the fluffy white snow clouds talking about the things that stood between them? Would it make any of them less painful to hear? It suddenly didn’t seem to make that big of a deal where they were when the secrets weren’t secrets any longer.

"Tell me." Two words, simple in every way imaginable. Until they were put in the context of one of their conversations. Then it became another of those phrases with a thousand interpretations.

"Antar was…nothing like we expected it to be." Max seemed to realize that it was the understatement of the century and he laughed bitterly. "We were dropped into the middle of a battle. Literally. I still don’t know for sure, but I think Tess had something to do with it. Maybe it was just bad luck. Or maybe it was the best luck of all."

Liz found herself looking out the front window and realized this was probably the longest conversation she’d had in years. It was frightening to realize it had only just begun. "Is everyone else okay?" She hadn’t even asked about Isabel and Michael yet, which was odd. She used to be more considerate than that. Please and Thank You and Is Everyone Still Alive used to be commonplace phrases in her vocabulary.

"Yeah. There were times when we weren’t so sure we would all make it out alive, but we managed. We stuck together."

Max fell silent and Liz chanced looking over at him. He was staring out the front windshield himself and she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. And just like this morning, she remembered that conversations consisted of two people talking. "You’re family. Sticking together is what they do."

The words sounded hollow to ever her own ears. Hadn’t she once believed that with everything in her? Hadn’t she once been a girl that believed that love could triumph over anything that stood in its way? Had the romance died completely from her soul, ripped away until she was nothing more than the shell she was now?

Max’s face tightened and Liz wondered if she’d managed to find the exact wrong words to use in the situation. It was a talent she was learning she was good at. She made a mental note to look into possible career choices using that skill. Wouldn’t it look amazing on her resume? Plenty of names to give out as references too.

"It didn’t take us long to figure out Tess wasn’t on our side. Luckily we were discovered by a group that had been working on regaining the throne. They took us in and used us to bolster spirits among the supporters. And it even worked for awhile. Until Khivar’s men started showing up in places they shouldn’t have expected us to be."

"Tess." It was the obvious answer and actually the sort of answer that could have been used for a thousand different problems throughout the history of the world itself. Global overpopulation? Tess. Destruction of the rainforest? Tess. World War III hadn’t even happened yet and Liz was positive that Tess’s fingerprints would be all over it.

"Tess," Max agreed. "She was feeding information to Khivar’s camp. It was months before we started to suspect her." Liz would have paid money, everything she had to have been in one just one of those meetings.

Liz could see the guilt etched into the features of his face, so much a part of him now. She wanted to ease it away, to go back to earlier that morning when he’d given her that look, begging her to defy logic and reason. Because this…this was what logic and reason led to. Pain and guilt and loneliness so thick it could be woven into a blanket big enough for both of them.

"You couldn’t have known." It was a lie, but the harmless white kind meant to make the truth seem less likely to make you want to jump out of a window.

"You would have. You did." Those eyes were boring holes in her again, burrowing deep for answers. "You knew Alex was killed."

"I didn’t think it was Tess though." That much was truth at least. She had years of guilt over that one to prove it. And a quick change in topics was necessary if they were both going to make it through this without needing years of therapy.

"You said she was dead." Liz hadn’t even known it was possible to have such an emphatic lack of emotion in her voice when so much of it bubbled inside of her. She hadn’t even felt this much the last six years combined.

"We didn’t want to believe it, but we set a trap. Fed her information no one else knew. And she fell for it." Max’s grip on the steering wheel hadn’t loosened and Liz found herself staring at the white knuckles. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask any of the questions her brain had formed in the last thirty seconds, just let him tell her what had happened.

"It was Isabel that figured it out…how she’d killed Alex. She guessed about the baby being a lie too." Max paused, thinking his next words more carefully than Liz had even seen him think. "Tess confessed to Isabel. About everything. Michael and I weren’t there but Isabel told us…later. Tess never walked out of the room."

And there it was. The truth in all its glory. It was everything she’d thought she wanted to hear. Except…nothing was better. No great weight lifted from her shoulders. Alex wasn’t brought back to life in a magical puff of smoke and the great ringing of bells. Liz still didn’t remember what it was like to smile and mean it. All the truth did was bring more pain, showed her what exactly she’d been missing.

The truth sucked.

"We tried to help, but we weren’t the people they needed. We tried to be, but we didn’t know anything. We were a bunch of kids thrown into something we didn’t understand." He shrugged, never loosening his grip on the steering wheel. "By the time we did, no one was looking for us to save them. They decided to save themselves."

"So you came back? Hopped on a ship and just came home?" Liz didn’t recognize the pitch of her own voice but it was the one thing that finally had Max turning to look at her. It couldn’t be that easy. Nothing was that easy.

"More or less."

The anger was quick, biting and it had her grasping for the door handle to flee from the car. Liz tried not to stumble as she stormed away from the car, but the snow on the ground was just thick enough to be annoying. She heard Max’s door open and close and then his feet were sinking into the snow behind her.

"Liz, wait."

Liz whirled, catching Max off guard and almost knocking him off balance. She jabbed a finger at him, feeling better as she met the solid weight of his chest.

She wanted to yell at him for not coming to see her when he came back. She wanted to blame him for every minute of lost time and warmth. But she couldn’t. Even as she opened her mouth to give him the laundry list of reasons he’d hurt her, Josh’s face came to mind.

If she hadn’t been alone all this time, she never would have met Josh. And she was still selfish enough to not regret having had him there, always in the background, proving that she was still alive and loveable and a part of the world.

And standing face to face with Max’s hurt and bewildered face, a face she could still read like a book, Liz was reminded of all the ways she hadn’t ever known Josh.

Grief, Liz discovered, was nothing like she thought it would be.

"He said he loved me but he never even knew me." Tears were in her voice, in her throat and Max’s arms were around her before she even saw him move. She hadn’t even realized she had tears left, but there they were burning in her throat for release.

Liz clung to Max, fisting her hands in his shirt and breathing in the odd scent that hugged Max’s skin. "I always pushed him away. I didn’t return his calls. He always came to see me, even when I went out of my way to avoid him. But he stayed. He just kept calling and showing up and bringing me food and making me eat and go out."

"He loved you."

Liz pushed away from Max’s chest and glared at him. Why wasn’t he getting it? "He would talk and talk and I never told him anything about me. About who I really was."

"Did he ever ask?"

Liz cursed his cool logic, cursed it and him. "No."

"Because he didn’t have to. Sometimes silence can say more than words."

And when had Max learned psychology? "You don’t get it at all." She tried to move, to leave the comfort of his arms, but those arms had learned a trick or two over the years and held fast.

"No, Liz. You’re the one that doesn’t get it. He loved you for who you are, not because of who you knew in high school. It’s not the pieces he loved, but you."

Liz couldn’t do anything but stare, a true open mouthed, dumb struck stare. She was left with the uncomfortable feeling that they weren’t talking about Josh anymore, and yet they were. Maybe it was Max’s key in the whole thing, to help her see what she’d blinded herself to for so long.

Max and Josh were nothing alike, had nothing in common. Except her and varying shades of love. They would have liked each other. Well, if they had ever been able to move past the glaring possessive stages long enough to talk. It was a thought that would make her smile later. Much later. And in it, Liz finally saw the truth. She just didn’t know how to word it to Max.

"Why do you think you’re unlovable? Because of me? Because of what I did?" Apparently, Max wasn’t done driving the point home though.

"I made my own choices." It wasn’t a defense…exactly. Just a statement of how things were.

Max was nodding another nod that could have agreed with anything. "And those choices brought you here. You loved Josh. You may not have wanted to, but you did."

Max had all but convinced Liz that he’d acquired the unfortunate ability to read minds in his absence. It made her want to look into aluminum foil hats to keep him out of her brain. Because Max just shouldn’t know her that well. Sandwich and coffee preferences were one thing, but the inner workings of her heart and soul were another. She realized she probably should have told him they were off limits nine years ago.

But the absolute worst part was that he was right. She wanted to hate him for it. But there just wasn’t enough room for it with all the love she’d just remembered was there. It was amazing how easy it had been to forget those things before.

Max was shaking the foundation of her world, more effectively tearing down walls of denial than any earthquake. And it had taken her years to build those walls so high. There were things in her life that she just knew without doubt and question. The sun would rise in the east. Her father would always wake at five am to open the restaurant. Liz was part alien now. Loving aliens always got you a broken heart for your trouble.

Normal, everyday facts she cloaked herself in. There wasn’t room in her life for earthquake revelations that said loving her wouldn’t doom the other party. She wasn’t ready to hear that she had shut herself off from the world for no good reason.

Quick shake of her head was enough to push back the tears and the grief. It still wasn’t time for it. Maybe tomorrow when the reality of it all finally hit. But not now with Max standing so close and so far away.

"Why didn’t you heal me?" She’d figured it out yesterday while waiting to sign hospital papers, but there wasn’t a way to pose the question when you weren’t actually talking to other person. "The night you found me, I was bleeding and you didn’t heal me." Which was the sort of thing the old Max would have done instinctively. A dozen odd moments had added up to bad math and yet another question. There were just small things in life the aliens had become accustomed to doing with the aid of their powers. And Max hadn’t done a single one of them.

Max didn’t even have the nerve to look shocked. He just nodded as if surprised the question hadn’t come up sooner. "That’s the more or less part. You healed yourself though." A statement that was and wasn’t a question.

"You changed me." Liz could fling back vague answers for every one of Max’s vague questions. It was like an odd game of tennis, volleying just enough information to survive to the next question. They had been like this since the beginning really, their way of answering without lying, doling out the truth in bite sized pieces. It had to stop.

Liz took a breath, reading truth into every second of silence that stretched out. "How did they change you?" She could see it now that her brain had formed the string of words. It was in everything he did.

Max held her gaze. "It was the price of coming home."

There was irony in that, one that was so widespread she couldn’t even wrap her brain around all of the consequences.

An ache started deep in Liz’s chest. Max had given up everything, his home, his past, his family, and his friends. He’d wandered aimlessly. Alone. She wanted to ask him how he’d done it, how he’d survived. But the look in his eyes answered that question. He’d barely survived, hung onto the edge of sanity by the ends of his fingertips.

And it was okay because she understood that too. Maybe they were the only two that could.

"But you found me." It hadn’t been a coincidence that Max had found her stumbling around the streets at two in the morning, at a moment when she had been at her absolute lowest. Liz didn’t believe in coincidences. Not anymore, not in this world.

"I’ll always find you, Liz." He was looking at her as if it were the most obvious answer ever given. And maybe it was.

She was tired, exhausted in every way. Max was too. It was there in every move of muscle. They still had enough between them to fill a lifetime of volleyball type conversations. But Liz suddenly didn’t want to hear them while she was shin deep in snow. And maybe neither of them could finish the tales without remembering what it was they were fighting for.

Liz wanted to remember where she’d left her smile. Had it been on the tarmac on her way to Sweden? At Alex’s grave? Whatever exact location it currently resided in, she wanted it back. And all the arrows pointed to one place.

"I want to go home, Max." Insanity was far more pleasant than Liz ever expected. Madness: Population of one.

"You’re right. It’s too cold for this."

It could have been funny, maybe in another life or if it were a movie they were watching it would have been. Liz was far from drunk but she wanted to choke out a laugh. "To Roswell, Max." His eyes widened marginally but Max seemed to be remembering things as they went along too. "Will you go back to Roswell with me?"

"I love you." No hesitation, no pause, and okay…population of two.

Liz met his eyes, the ones that said so much and didn’t come standard on any Mr. Potato Head figure she’d ever seen. She wanted to smile. The urge was there, buried beneath years of rubble. But it wasn’t time for it.

Instead she offered him her hand, a peace offering and waited until he took it. "Let’s go for a drive. And I’ll let you make me lunch later." It was all she had but he seemed to understand and tugged her in the direction of the car.

*~*~

"The movers are here."

Liz didn’t glance up from the book in her hand. From the spot where she was sitting on the closet floor, Max loomed above her. But he had long since ceased to be imposing.

"Did I ever tell you the story of how Josh made me live here?" She traced a finger down the leather bound album in her lap. It was a funny story really. Now that she was looking back on it. Though at the time, Josh had come close to dying in a bloody bath. Liz wondered if all memories could be like that given enough time and space. Flashes of her time in Roswell answered that question effectively and brutally with a resounding no.

"No." Max stepped into the closet and folded long legs until he was sitting beside her on the floor. "Tell me."

And that was the way things had been for the last eight days. Max would see whatever it was in her body language that said she needed to talk and he would sit quietly and listen. Four hours was his record so far. He’d sat on Josh’s leather couch in the den and hadn’t spoken a word while she’d remembered moments she hadn’t even known she’d forgotten.

Liz tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up at Max. "His parents had just bought him this house. With them, everything was about teaching him a lesson and this one was supposed to be about responsibility. I was in town for a symposium and he kept trying to get me to come see the house." She could still hear the note of excitement in his voice as it had played on her answering machine. She hadn’t even told him she was in town but he’d known.

"Same dance. I didn’t return his calls, didn’t come to see him. So he waited until I was at dinner and he showed up at my hotel, packed up everything I had and stole my laptop. He even checked me out of the hotel. When I came back from dinner, I found a note at the front desk that told me if I wanted my things back, I’d have to pay his ransom." It had been how her clothes had ended up living in one of the closets. "I lived here for three months before I was offered a job in New York."

"He was trying to make a home for you."

"He did." She could admit that now. "I thought that if I never came back, it couldn’t possibly be a home." There were so many things she’d been wrong about, so many new regrets to add to the pile.

"Did you pack your things?" She hoped there would come a day when she didn’t feel the need to change the subject when the memories became too much for her to bear. The day was coming, but was still far off in the distance.

Max shrugged. "I didn’t have much."

Liz knew all about that. She could pack everything she owned into a single bag and leave with ten minutes notice. Once she’d done it in four.

It made her realize that she wanted roots, large twisting, gnarled roots that sunk so deep there was never any hope of pulling them up. If only she could remember how to grow them. There had to be some combination of fertilizer and water that could do it.

"Do you have everything you wanted?"

Liz looked around the closet. It was still full, her few clothes mixed in with some of Josh’s older winter coats. In any other room of this house, there had never been any proof she’d set foot inside. She’d decided not to move any of it. Her last memories of this house Josh had loved so much should be this, sitting on the closet floor with a photo album she hadn’t even known he’d put together. He’d probably thought tangible proof they’d known each other would scare her away further. Maybe he would have been right. As it was, she still hadn’t opened it.

The things she was taking with her couldn’t be packed in a suitcase anyway. "I’m ready."

Max rose and held out a hand to help Liz to her feet. She supposed it said something that she didn’t hesitate. With the album clutched to her chest, Liz followed Max through the bedroom and into the hallway. Something in her that twisted to pass by the bright yellow curtains and bed. Had she really thought them hideous before? They really weren’t so bad. Kind of warm really. Of course the warmth could have had something to do with Max’s arms and the way she had slept in them every night.

They passed the movers on their way down the hallway. Liz tried not to hate them on principle alone when she saw the flattened boxes in their hands. Principle fights never turned out good anyway. And Max was there, tugging on her hand and pulling her into the sunny kitchen.

The storm had broke a few days ago and the ground outside was still white as far as the eye could see. Liz remembered standing in front of the kitchen window with Max, just watching the large flakes fall to the ground. It had been cathartic and Max hadn’t seemed to mind just standing there. They hadn’t really spoken much about what had happened to Max on Antar. But Liz knew in the way she knew anything these days. He’d been thrown into the middle of a war, had been forced to fight for his life and the life of his family. He’d been betrayed by one of those family members he would have died to protect. It was no wonder Max could seem to blend into the shadows now. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Max had spent a majority of his time hiding. It would have shamed him, but it had brought him here.

Liz could wait for the truth though. It was written on every line of his face. Maybe in Roswell he could find a way to tell her what bothered him most. But first he had to remember that there were people who would love him no matter what.

Max was standing by the kitchen door, both of their bags in his hands and a third bag slung over his shoulder. He was watching her, looking for all the world content to merely stand in the doorway forever if she asked him to. But they had a plane to catch and if she didn’t catch this one she would find an excuse to miss the next three.

Without a backward glance, Liz followed Max out the door. His car was waiting, already running and probably had the heater on too. Max seemed to have noticed her love hate relationship with the weather.

They climbed into the SUV and Liz eyed her car as they drove past. It was being driven to Roswell by someone from an agency. There were a lot of things in her life she could live without and her car wasn’t one of them.

The bright red moving truck was sitting in front of Josh’s house and strangers were already hefting the antique furniture that had been in the family for centuries. It would all be gone in a matter of hours. All but the leather couch Josh had loved so much. That was going into storage until Liz had a place to ship it to herself. She’d grown fond of it over the last few weeks.

Max’s hand settled on her leg and reminded her that one day in the near future, everything was going to be okay.

The drive to the airport was short, too short, and only Max’s hand at her elbow managed to get her to board the plane. She’d flown a thousand times, had always reveled in the feeling that she was going somewhere new and exciting. Only this time, she was flying somewhere familiar and old.

Max didn’t speak to her while the plane prepared to take off. He didn’t even bat an eye when she asked for small bottles of liquor from the flight attendant the minute the Fasten Seatbelt light went off. In fact, he smiled an odd sort of smile and asked for a few bottles of his own.

Liz realized that exploring Max’s humanity might almost be as much fun as exploring her alien side.

As airplane trips went, theirs was boring. Predictable even. Liz was too wired to sleep, so she pretended to read a book. But even that lost appeal after four hours. So, she’d relented and talked to Max. Eventually, she had even convinced herself to look inside of the album that still lay across her lap. And the pictures inside had been enough to warm a part of her that she hadn’t even known was cold. She had shared the memories with Max, recounting the tales and filling in the holes of their relationship.

She’d felt better for it, stronger. It felt good to know that she could still carry a piece of Josh with her, that he would never really leave because she wasn’t going to let him. Max wouldn’t let her forget.

Before Liz had even realized it, the plane had landed and Max was guiding her by her elbow to a rental car. Though she was pleased to note that he led her far slower than he had earlier. It occurred to her not for the first time that he was every bit as nervous as she was. It was his homecoming too.

Max drove them into the city limits of Roswell, the home they’d both left behind. Liz hated to admit it, but it felt right, returning home now, with Max. She hadn’t stepped foot inside this town in over five years. She’d left her family and friends behind, pushing them away in the same way she’d tried with Josh all those years. Her arms hurt from the effort.

The town was unusually quiet and Liz frowned in thought as they drove past the Crashdown only to find it closed for the day. Max wound through the streets, glancing every so often at the small scrap of paper on the dashboard. Liz’s parents had tried to reunite her with Maria for the first few years after she’d left town. That included letting Liz know when Maria had moved into an apartment of her own a few miles away from the diner. It wasn’t much more than a starting place, but Liz was glad to take it.

She hoped that Maria could help her remember how to grow roots.

Max slowed the car down across the street from the building and they both stared at it for a minute.

"Do you think Michael’s living with her?"

Max shook his head. "I don’t know." But Liz saw hope in his eyes. Whatever Max had gone through, Michael had shared it with him. Liz knew that for sure. It could have been part of the reason why Max had left them behind, to forget. Maybe remembering didn’t have to be painful.

"She probably doesn’t live there anymore." Liz didn’t really believe it though. Maria had a stronger root system than anyone she knew.

"Probably not."

Max was being too agreeable. He probably didn’t believe it either. Liz sighed. They either had to become better liars or give it up altogether. "I guess there’s only one way to find out."

With a deep breath, Liz climbed out of the car. She waited another minute for Max to find his own strength and climb out behind her. He moved to stand beside her, leaning against the car. Liz took charge and twined their fingers together. She led them to the door that matched the address on the slip of paper. And then she paused, staring hard at the doorbell. "Are you ready to do this? We can wait."

Max offered her an attempted smile. It was sad really the way their faces had forgotten how to twist into genuine grins. "I’m ready if you are."

A challenge she could handle. She really did love this man, pushing her buttons at exactly the right time. She wanted to kiss him, to pull him close and forget for a little while. But this was the reason they’d been waiting, the reason their joined sleep had been just that. Anything more before they reclaimed their lost lives would be too soon.

Closing her eyes for a last moment of strength, Liz rang the doorbell. She had the most ridiculous urge to run and hide, to turn and not look back to see who answered the doorbell. If she didn’t know, she could imagine. She could imagine that Michael had moved in with Maria and they had a cozy home, that they still fought like the lunatics they were and made up in spectacular ways. If ever there was a couple with life and vitality, it was them. And she had the sudden realization that anything less than that beyond the door would crush her. Them. A part of her needed to know that Michael and Maria had figured out a way to get it right. Because if a couple like Michael and Maria could make it work, Liz still had room to hope for her and Max.

She hesitated a second too long and then it was too late to flee, too late to dash back to the airport and catch the next plane to…anywhere but there. Because footsteps were already heading towards them and Liz felt Max’s fingers tighten painfully against hers.

The door opened quickly, almost as if they were expected and maybe running a little late. And Liz found Maria standing in the doorway.

The laughter died on Maria’s lips when she turned and saw them huddled in her doorway. Liz had to imagine what sort of picture they made. They were all but clinging to each other, holding each other up and the only thing Liz could think was that Maria looked really, really good. Happy. Or she had been before she’d opened the door.

"Maria…" What exactly did you say to your best friend when you spent years blowing her off? Thankfully, she’d been drunk when Max had shown up or they might never have moved past this first awkward moment.

Maria shook her head, tears already filling her eyes. She propped her hands on her hips and let out a deep breath. "It’s about time."

Then Liz found herself in a hug so tight, it was a wonder her bones didn’t snap. It was a good thing her bones could liquefy on command, and it just helped her settle into Maria’s arms. Belatedly, she realized Maria had pulled back just enough to pull Max into the same hug, crushing them all together. It was enough to pull a small laugh from Liz.

"God, you have no idea how worried we’ve been. I tried to call and write, Liz, but I never heard back and you moved like every week. And we looked everywhere for you, Max. Michael and Isabel went crazy those first few months. They flew anywhere they thought you might have gone." Maria was pulling back from the hug, but not letting either of them go. Liz had the distinct impression that she was afraid they would disappear if she weren’t touching one of them.

She was inside the apartment before she even realized it and it was just another of those little things she’d forgotten. Maria’s powers were those of persuasion. She could distract you with what Alex had termed Maria Babble and before you even knew what was happening, you were doing the one thing you hadn’t wanted to do in the first place.

Another string of sentences and their coats had disappeared along with scarves and hats. And they were still standing in the foyer.

"Michael!" Maria called over her shoulder with a grin. "You have to get out here."

It was surreal how only a minute in Maria’s presence was enough to thaw her limbs. There was a fireplace in the living room and Liz wasn’t even surprised to find that they’d been herded that way. The apartment was small but warm, bright and happy and it filled Liz with a sudden surge of hope she hadn’t realized she’d needed.

"This is going to be so fantastic. I can’t believe you two are actually here. And today of all days too."

"Today?"

An odd look from Maria had Liz mentally ticking off the days in her head. What had she forgotten now? "It’s Thanksgiving, Liz. Turkey Day? A day when friends and family get together and celebrate."

The look of shock on Max’s face told her that he hadn’t had any more of a clue than she did. She made a mental note to buy a calendar first thing tomorrow. Maria would probably take her shopping anyway. An old tradition she’d forgotten all about and was looking forward to now.

"What is it, Maria? I’m trying to finish up the stuffing and I-" Michael bit off the rest of the sentence when he saw the trio in the living room. Liz watched him meet Max’s eyes and for a long minute, they just looked at each other. It made Liz wonder for the millionth time what had happened on Antar, how they’d escaped back to Earth, how they’d survived for the years they’d been living in a war zone.

"For pete’s sake, just hug already." Liz turned just in time to catch Maria rolling her eyes. It was so ridiculously normal, it made Liz smile.

They met in the middle of the living room, crossing it with long strides. It was a manly hug, complete with mandatory back slaps, but they clung to each other just a second too long to be simply friendly. Liz understood that sudden need to cling, how you sometimes just needed a single soul that understood your own particular brand of pain. She was beginning to understood just how suddenly Max had disappeared from their lives once they’d returned to Earth. She could only imagine waking up to find that Max was gone without a trace. In fact, she could sympathize.

"This calls for a celebration." Michael clapped Max on the back one last time before turning in her direction with the broadest grin she’d ever seen. Liz was surprised when she was pulled into Michael’s hug as well. And if every greeting was going to be this fierce, she was going to seriously consider removing her own spinal column just to keep it safe.

"Thank you for bringing him home."

It shocked her, the open emotion from Michael. But she could see that he was different now too, not as closed off as he once had been. Maybe he’d realized that he couldn’t take people for granted any longer.

"We brought each other back."

"You’re staying here." Maria issued the command, daring either of them to argue. "Michael, go get their things before they change their minds." Maria swatted at his butt with the dishtowel that had been hanging over her shoulder.

Liz let Michael slip out of her arms and she caught the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He stopped long enough to brush a kiss against Maria’s lips and then turned back to look at her and Max.

"Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone."

Liz let her hand meet and join Max’s. "We just got home. Why would we leave?"

Michael’s snort was answer enough and seemed to ask why they did anything they did. But then he was gone, out the front door to collect the meager belongings they traveled with.

"This is so great. You have no idea how glad everyone’s going to be to see you two. We’re meeting at Mom and Jim’s house later. It’s tradition. Everyone’ll be there. Isabel’s bringing Jesse…you don’t know him but he works for your father, Max…and Kyle’s bringing Sara and Amy."

"Sara and Amy?" There were so many new additions to their group, Liz wondered if they’d ever be able to catch up.

Maria chuckled again. "That’s right. You don’t know them either. Kyle met Sara about a year after you left, Liz. They got married a few years ago and Amy’s their little girl. She’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet and she’s got Kyle wrapped around her finger.

"Married?" She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, but it did. Maybe she still had an image of Kyle Valenti, super star and jock extraordinaire. That Kyle Valenti was hard to pit against the one Maria was describing. But she wanted to get to know him.

"My parents?"

Maria offered Max a smile. "They’re coming too, Max. Everyone is. It was a new holiday tradition we started. Tables were too empty I guess."

Liz could imagine the empty dinner chairs that had prompted the new group gatherings. Under the circumstances, it really didn’t seem that hard to imagine they all as one big family.

The door opened again and Michael dragged all three of their bags in. "What the hell do you have in these things? This one bag weighs a ton."

"Just set them down and clear out. Take Max in the kitchen with you and bond. Liz and I have a lot of catching up to do before we leave." Maria tried to shoo Michael and Max away but Max was still holding tight to Liz’s hand.

Liz smiled at him, amazed by the warmth. "You should do some male bonding. I’ll be here when you’re done."

Max eased away from her and stepped back, heading towards the kitchen. He didn’t say any of the things Liz saw swirling in his eyes. He wanted to tell her he loved her, wanted to say it every time he let her out of his sight. She understood that need. It burned inside of her too. But they were still too fragile for a public show.

"I always knew you two would come back together or not at all."

Liz couldn’t identify the note in Maria’s voice, so she chalked it up to wistfulness. "You have no idea how right you were."

"So, I want to hear everything. The places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen. Where do you live?" Small chuckle that broke up the line of questioning. "How in the world did you and Max meet up again?"

It was such a long story, Liz didn’t have any idea where to begin. She suspected it would take days to tell the full story, and then there were the long conversations she and Max were going to be having. She was going to lose her voice inside of a week. But she would love every minute of it.

"I lost a friend last week. He was killed in a car accident and Max…he was just there when I needed him most." Destiny had nothing on them. They had defied it a dozen times over and won every time. Liz hated to lose.

"I’m sorry." Maria’s enthusiasm cooled and it made Liz sad.

"I have pictures." It was amazing how important that suddenly was. She had spent so long pushing Josh away, it was surprising how much his album meant to her now. She moved to the bags Michael had dropped in the hallway. She’d tucked the book inside of her bag earlier for safekeeping. Maria moved to her side, crouching on the floor with her. "It’s in one of these bags somewhere."

Liz could hear Maria unzipping the bag closest to her and when it was followed by an odd silence, Liz looked up.

"Uh, Liz?"

"Did you find it?"

"Noooo…but I’m going to assume you picked up the wrong bag at the airport."

"Why?" Liz glanced up from her own bag and peered into the larger one she hadn’t seen before.

And…oh.

There was romance in her soul yet it seemed. It was there, just below the surface and it was singing an old tune.

Inside of the canvas bag, tangled amidst a pair of Max’s boxer shorts and the yellow curtains from Josh’s house was…the oddest gift she’d ever received. There was no mistaking it was for her, because it was odd enough by itself. It yielded more promise to her than a diamond ring and it spoke volumes about the relationship she’d just begun to see they still had. And it was crazy, crazy in a way that nothing else in their tale had ever been. It was great.

It was a garden gnome, obviously stolen from the front yard of Josh’s neighbor.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of her, bubbled up and escaped before she could quash it. Holding a hand over her mouth didn’t seem to help the matter, nor did the look of utter confusion on Maria’s face. Her body was actually shaking from the force of the laughter and it felt good…great. And it must have been loud enough to gain Max and Michael’s attention, because she heard their heels click across the living room floor.

"Do I want to know?"

Liz ignored Michael, turning instead to Max. He was grinning at her, a full fledged grin that stretched to his eyes and replaced the shadows. It stopped the laughter and Liz was forced to match that grin, muscles pulling in unfamiliar ways but she made due.

In that moment, that split second in time, Liz knew that no matter what else happened, they would be okay. They would go to Thanksgiving dinner and reunite with everyone they’d ever loved. They would tell stories, the nice ones at first, and the darker tales would be told when the sun had set. And they would be okay. Because they were together. They would be together from now on. It wouldn’t be easy, but then nothing between them ever had been. Liz would water and fertilize her roots three times a day, do everything in her power to urge them to grow. And there would be laughter. Lots and lots of laughter to fill the days ahead. Because the funny thing about remembering was that it was easy if you let it be.