Title: With Nothing Left To Lose-
Author: Me
E-mail:
destinyrebel@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to Jason Katims, UPN and 20th Century Fox. Sorry, if I forgot anyone. Anyway, I'm just borrowing everything. You know, for my own selfish reasons
Category: Liz's POV. AU- to some extent. M/L + CC.
Rating: PG-13 right now but I do include a couple of cuss words.
Summary: Well, I just started writing this so I don't really know. Um, Michael and Tess saved Liz, Alex, Maria and Kyle from a robbery at the Crashdown one day, so they know about the alienness thing. Max and Isabel don't live in Roswell so the humans have never met them personally. But they do know about them. Everything else will just unfold as it unfolds...
Author's note: Ok, this is my first POV fic, so I hope I'm not screwing anything up. If I am, please let me know! ;p
Anyway, I have a couple parts of this already finished, so let me know if you like it and I'll get them up ASAP. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy...*
With Nothing Left To Lose.
Part 1-
I can't sing.
I try but I almost always fail. I don't know why though. It just seems to be some kind of freak little detail that's included in my life and it has never decided to go away or fix itself...
But like every other person in this sad world, I do sing along with almost every song that comes on the radio, with one little exception of course. I have to be the only one in the room.
Naturally, I'm not going to subject myself to levels of embarrassment that would come along with belting out some bubble-gum pop hit in front of actually people. Right?
~
It's almost 11:25 pm on a very miserable Friday night. Michael Guerin and I have clean up duty at my families Café, The Crashdown, cause my dad, the incomparable Jeff Parker, decided to take my mom, Nancy, to Albuquerque, NM for some weird three day weekend.
Why, you ask? I have no idea. But I did protest. God, did I protest
But in the end, it didn't work...
Anyway, so I've got the milkshake machine pretty much disassembled in front of me. Who the hell cleaned this last time? I need to ask cause there is this build-up of dried flaky stuff everywhere and in-between. Eww...
Michael, were you supposed to clean this thing last time? I call out, mostly cause I'm not a person who really loves silence. So, bickering with Michael seems better then nothing.
Sad, I know...
What? Clean what, when? He called back.
Great job, Michael. Play dumb. That will get you places once you get out of this hell hole labeled Roswell.
The milkshake machine thing! It's really sick in there! I reply, referring to the dried flaky stuff again.
I don't know. I usually get out of it...
Wonderful, Michael. Just wonderful
I mutter. Hey, can't we find a way to use alien powers or something to fix it? I asked hopefully as a strange shudder descends my spine, I think the smell is going to make me sick. Once again, eww...
Yeah, that will work. He laughs. He is actually laughing at me. I can't have that. So, what do I do? Exactly. I go for the radio.
Oh, and I know I said I wouldn't sing with people in the room. Well, I won't. Technically, Michael is in the kitchen. Ha! See my wonderful logic?
Ok. Frankly, I don't care if Mikey G hears my sing. Cause I have heard him try to sing his own rendition of Metallica a couple times, so I think we are just about even.
What station you want? I smile sweetly. I know this will piss him off. And I don't know why I want to piss him off right now but I do. And I will. It's pretty simple.
Liz
He groans.
Woohoo! KROZ it is!
Oh my god
It's all @#%$ on that station. He groans again.
I know... But I want to listen to something while I finish up this disgusting mess. I try to explain my good intentions.
Yeah, right.
Ahh
You don't believe me?
No, I don't. But whatever... I am going to go upstairs and get cleaned up. Ok? He asked, while poking his head through the little order window.
Uh huh... I answer absent mindedly.
Good.
And then he is gone. And I am alone to sing.
Yay, for me!
I quickly adjust the volume and go back to the pile of metal and dried flaky stuff. Maybe I could just throw it in the washer. Or maybe I could call Maria, she would know what to do. Or maybe I really could use alien powers...
Unfortunately, I know none of those ideas will pan out so I just dive right in. I grab the drip pan first. Cause starting small is a good idea in a situation like this.
Rinse. Scrub. Rinse. I do this about three times before I lose track. Michael hasn't been down since he went up, so I am left to imagine he went home. Lucky bastard...
Rinse. Scrub. Rinse. It's about 11:55 now. I am tired. This is not how a senior in high school should spend one of there precious Friday nights. Damn it... How did I get roped into this, again?
Rinse. Scrub. Rinse. Ok, I am not even thinking anymore. Rinse, scrub, rinse, is just about the only thing I can focus on. My brain hurts...
But wait. I know this song. It's one I love and one that holds a lot of good memories.
Twelve months ago, one of my best friends, Alex Whitman, surprised Maria Deluca, another one of my best friends, and I with tickets to a concert. I was ecstatic. We had fun. We got to act like teenagers for a couple of hours. It was great.
Because you see, before we found out about Michael and Tess Harding, we were able to do things like that all the time. Every weekend, the three of us would make an effort to do things that were deemed cool.
But after the robbery attempt and after Michael and Tess had to tell us their true origins, things changed. It now seemed that every weekend, Michael, Tess, Alex, Maria, Kyle Valenti, and I were battling evil aliens or covering something up, or even uncovering something new and significant.
The six of us were bound by a secret. And we were all destined to help each other.
Kind of...
Anyway, this song was one that always seemed to make sense to me, even though it didn't too many others. So, I close my eyes and I start singing and smiling as I remembered the last night my friends and I got to be carefree...
Snow is falling from the sky - In the middle of July.
Sun was shining in my eyes again last night.
Alarm goes off without a sound - the silence is so loud - something isn't right.
Footsteps echo down the hall - no one's there at all.
Dial your number but your voice says "I'm not home".
Everything is inside out - I don't know what it's about.
It keeps getting stranger by the day
But as the chorus continues, I don't. Because in mid-twirl I realize that someone has walked into the Café and that person is just standing there, watching me. And amazing, only three words come to mind and I totally don't care that he heard me sing.
The prize words are: Oh @#%$ @#%$...
But of course I can't say that out loud. I am Liz Parker. I don't cuss and I rarely ever curse.
So, after a good thirty seconds of staring at him, I scream. I scream with all the lung power I can muster. And I keep screaming. And I don't think about how this guy could just be some customer that wanted a midnight snack or how he could just be passing through town and by some mistake he missed an exit or something. Because knowing real live aliens has taught me a few things. And I felt the need to scream, so I screamed.
And while I screamed, his eyes just grew so wide. I don't know for sure but I can almost guarantee that I freaked the hell out of him. He was just frozen in place as the color quickly drained from his face.
Ok, now I starting to think that maybe screaming at the top of my lungs wasn't such a bright idea but I still continue to do it. And I don't stop until I hear Michael screaming back and I see him stumble through the kitchen doors with his hand raised.
LIZ?! Liz, what's wrong?! LIZ?!
Wait! The guy shouted immediately, while backing up.
And I swear to god, I saw him start to raise his hand.
So, what do I do?
I grab the closest thing I can get my hands on and chuck it at him.
Well, the plastic soda glass missed his head by about two inches and I earned more shouts from both Michael and the guy.
Michael tells me to wait and the guy tells me to stop. So, I shout back. Damn it... What the hell? Michael, @#%$ blast him or something! Oops. I cursed and cussed. Oh well...
No! Wait, Liz! Michael calls again.
No, Michael. He was going to use his hand! Do something! I scream and stumble over my words. Why the hell is Michael not blasting him? Michael never thinks first. What's wrong?
But I don't think I have time to contemplate the situation, so I go for another glass.
No, wait! The stranger pleads. I think I am one of the good guys...
Michael? I ask as I get ready to throw lucky number two. Maybe this time I can get it within one inch of his head...
Liz, put it down. Michael gently tells me. It's okay.
Michael? I ask again. I think I need some kind of reassurance here! Cause from my stand point this guy could really easily kill us both here and now!
Liz, remember when I told you an old friend was going to come and visit? Michael cautiously asks.
No. I tell him in a shaky and uncertain voice. Because that's what I do when I lie. I end up using this shaky, hesitant, breathy voice. It's actually really embarrassing. Anyway...
Liz? He questions. Damn it... He knows. He so knows I know.
Oh my god... I mutter as I drop the second glass on the floor.
And without skipping a beat, only one thought pops into my head. And no, it's not that a friend of Michael's heard me sing.
Amazing, the only thing going through my mind is, the fact that I threw a dirty cup at a king's head. Once again, Oh @#%$ @#%$...
Um... Liz? Meet Max, Max Evans... Michael coughed as I turned bright red with embarrassment...
TBC
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