RATING: PG-13. Couple of cusses, but that's it. :)
DISCLAIMER: Metz, Katims, WB. Don't own 'em. Sooooo wish I did!
Isabel Evans sighed as she rolled to a stop at the intersection, rubbing wearily at a kink in her neck. Grimacing slightly, she wiggled a finger at the car stereo, turning on one of the soothing classical music tapes that were always in the tape deck, and looked fondly out the window at the familiar scenery.
"Home sweet home again, Iz," she murmured to herself as she crawled down Main street; past the Crashdown, the UFO center, the grocery store. She would never in a million years admit it to anyone, but she loved this crazy, pokey little town. This was her home, and always would be. How anyone managed to live permanently in Washington DC and not go bananas was beyond her. As chief aide to the new congressman from Roswell, she did occasionally have to travel with him to Washington as she had just returned from doing, and she was exhausted. At least she could have a few days off while Alan finished up some business there.
beep-beep
"Dammit," Isabel whined, regarding her cell phone with contempt. Uncaring as usual, it simply beeped back at her.
"Isabel Evans," she intoned without feeling after punching the receive button angrily. "Uh-huh… no, I didn't have any specific plans, but… did you try calling Kirsten? Oh. Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Mmm-hmm. Expect it faxed over before breakfast tomorrow. Yeah, bye." She sighed heavily once again, turning to converse with her perpetual passenger.
"Can you believe that? 'Enjoy your long weekend, Isabel. You've deserved it.' Yeah, my ass. I swear, that man would be utterly lost without me. I've been on my mini-vacation for all of five hours, and already I've got work to do tonight. The nerve!" Isabel glanced sideways at the little stuffed alien propped up in the passenger seat and smiled. Everyone needs to vent now and then, she supposed, and it was probably better to have someone like "Herbie" to let loose on than to unload on everyone else. Of course, who really needed Herbie when you had actual friends in town? Isabel broke into a grin upon entering the parking lot of Senor Chow's. She was just dying for an honest to goodness girl talk session. Her smile broadened momentarily before she smoothed back her hair and assumed a look of casual disinterest as she opened the car door and made her way to the restaurant entrance.
"No way!" Liz exclaimed in utter disbelief, actually gripping the edge of the dinner table as the shock overcame her.
"Way," Maria answered morosely, twirling her kumquat margarita with careless fingers.
"No WAY!" Liz practically yelled, shoving herself backwards heavily into the plush seat.
"Way," Maria sighed. "And keep it down, hon." Liz huffed in indignation, crossing her arms in front of her.
"I do not, I repeat: DO NOT believe he did that!" she continued in an intense whisper.
"Believe it, Liz," piped a voice beside her, and she scooted over in the booth to make room for Tess, who flopped down into the proffered seat wearily.
"So, wait, he actually called you before he did it?" Liz grilled the blonde at her elbow, and Tess nodded sadly.
"I just don't know what we're going to say to Isabel," Maria added nervously, checking the entrance again for the only absent member of their party.
"You know, Michael's done some pretty bad things, but this really takes the cake," Liz fairly growled, swiping a hand through her short, auburn hair distractedly; one of the more recent drastic changes that the Parkers' only child had made to her appearance. After a brief but turbulent entanglement with resident bad-boy Sean DeLuca a number of years back, she had embarked on a series of radical image overhauls that left the populace of Roswell scratching their heads and wondering what happened to that sweet little Parker girl who worked at the Crashdown. Sean had left long ago, the termination of their fling at least ending the tense period of estrangement that she and Max had been suffering through, but the residual attitude had stayed.
"I'll say," Maria chimed in. "And to think there was a time when I thought the most insensitive thing he could do was give a girl two-in-one shampoo and conditioner for a gift," she chuckled humorlessly. The passing years had rather the opposite effect on Maria. After a particularly interesting conversation on a double date one night, Max had grown very quiet and asked with trepidation whether some strange personality switch had taken place between the two friends. It was true; Maria had embraced her inner calm while Liz had embraced her inner spaz. Amy DeLuca swore teasingly up and down that it was the cedar oil, but it would take a special kind of stupid to not realize that her husband probably had both hands in the metamorphosis. "What exactly did you tell him when he told you what he was doing, Tess?"
"Are you kidding me?" Tess sputtered. "First I told him that he was an asshole for even considering it, and then I told him he'd better not do it or I'd kill him myself!"
"Well, what did he say to that?" Liz inquired.
"He told me to go ahead and try it… and then he told me he was going to anyway, and to let Isabel know."
"And what did you say?" Maria asked, leaning over the table.
"What do you think I said? I told him to fuck off, then I hung up," Tess explained matter-of-factly, and Liz cackled.
"You go girl!" she cracked, and Tess smiled wanly. Unlike the other two, Tess had made no earth-shattering transformation, but she did finally seem to have grown into her human skin. Gone was the unsure, insecure, Max-worshipping girl that everyone seemed to love to hate; in her place was a witty, intelligent, confident woman. As a result, the rest of the members of the once-dubbed "I know an alien club" slowly warmed up to her and embraced her as a friend and confidante.
"Hey, ladies," a warm voice spoke up from the head of the table. "Got room for one more?"
The three gossiping girls looked up in tandem as Isabel approached the table. For one horrible second, all three were terrified for the imminent discussion that lay ahead. Once that second passed, they all jumped out of their seats, squealing with excitement.
"Oh my god, Iz, we missed you so much!" Maria exclaimed, throwing her arms around the taller girl's neck. Isabel laughed and turned to Liz, tousling her hair.
"Well, this is different," she teased, and Liz cowered for a moment, waiting for the fashion queen's judgement. "I like it," she concluded thoughtfully, and Liz mimed wiping sweat off her forehead.
"Tess!" Isabel cried, hugging her friend tightly before pulling away to slide into the seat next to Maria.
"God, I have sooooo many alien-chick conversations to have with you, but for now we just need to dish," Tess grinned, and Isabel nodded her head vigorously in agreement.
"God, I am so famished," Isabel groaned, scanning the menu. "So what's new in Roswell? You gotta tell me everything." Maria, Liz, and Tess exchanged a look, and Isabel looked up curiously at the sudden silence. "What?" she queried, scowling slightly.
"Well, let's order first, okay?"
"So, someone must tell me now why you all shared a little doomsday look with each other when I asked for the latest news," Isabel demanded, cutting into her sesame chicken burrito. Liz sighed and threw her fork down onto her plate.
"Um, well… there's really no easy way to tell you this Isabel, but… Michael kind of left yesterday," Maria managed, wincing as she waited for Isabel to react.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I already know about that," she sighed, looking sadly at her plate.
"What?!"
"You do?"
"How?" Isabel laughed lightly at their shared outburst before replying.
"Guys, I went home first before I came here. He left me a note," she explained without looking at them. A few uncomfortable moments passed before anybody said anything.
"Um… are you okay?" Tess broke the silence, and Isabel shrugged.
"I don't know. I suppose I'll have to be, he didn't leave me much choice. I mean, this isn't the first time that Michael has insisted that he needs some space. It's just the first time that he's decided that without telling me to my face," she offered in her patented casual and disinterested way.
"Sweetheart, you know you don't have to hold back with us," Maria said quietly, and Isabel turned to glare at them.
"Well, what do you want? For me to break down and start crying right here? Not my style, and you all know it," she bit out.
"But-"
"No! No buts. Look, Michael and I have been a couple for eight years now. I knew what I was getting into when I started dating him, and that hasn't changed. I'm still well aware of who it is that I'm in love with. He's not perfect, and neither am I. Maria, you should know better than anyone that being involved with Michael isn't an easy thing, it's just a matter of knowing what you need. You broke up with him because he couldn't give you what you needed. You needed stability and affection and and open lines of communication, and there's nothing wrong with that. Hell, you're better off. Me, I don't need that, I never have. I know he loves me, and I know that he'll be back, and that's all I need." Isabel inhaled deeply once she was through.
"Keep telling yourself that, Iz, and maybe someday you'll convince someone of it," Maria quipped, and the quartet of women smiled, the tense mood broken.
"Yeah, okay Mrs. Davis, fount of endless knowledge," Isabel teased and shook her head. "Okay, I need a drink."
"I second that," Liz added, raising her hand to flag their waitress over, and Tess laughed.
"Count me in, babe."
"How about you, Mrs. Evans? Any wonderful news to relate?" Isabel questioned, looking at Liz out of the corner of her eye.
"God, Iz, don't call me that! Mrs. Evans is still your mom," she whined.
"Okay, apparently not," Isabel giggled.
"What about Mrs. Valenti?" Maria jibed, joining in the tease-fest.
"That's Mrs. Harding-Valenti to you," Tess mock-glared, leveling her fork at the girl across from her.
"Ooh, Tess, that one's gotta go. Hyphenated last names are sooo last generation," Isabel joked good-naturedly. They all laughed, eating the rest of their meals in the comfortable regions of normal girl talk, taking their much-needed time to forget about aliens, missing boyfriends, and anything else that might fall into the realms of science fiction or after-school specials.
Michael stood at the edge of the gorge, the river that once ran through it reduced to a mere sluggish puddle at the bottom. He'd discovered this place during Isabel's past absence and had really taken to it. It was pretty, and he could see clear off into the horizon where the sun would set, turning the rocks and sand to solid fire as it burned its way out of the sky. Here he could think as much as he wanted. Or, he could not think. It was entirely up to him, which was what he loved most about it. Here, he was in control. Absently, he tossed another pebble into the small canyon and watched its descent to the rocks below.
Plink.
"Wow, Michael, you're looking like quite the loner and rebel out here," Tess spoke up from behind him, and he nearly fell straight down the sheer cliff.
"Jesus, Tess, you could've killed me!" he snapped, and she shrugged absently.
"Yeah, and it still wouldn't quite be what you deserve," she quipped back, veritable stormclouds gathering on her brow. Michael lifted an eyebrow at that statement.
"Whatever. What are you doing here anyway?" he asked, not looking at her.
"You said you wanted to talk," she said with exasperation, crossing her arms in front of her.
"I never said I wanted to talk to you," he replied coolly, tossing another rock.
Plink.
"Okay, maybe not in so many words, but why the hell else would you tell me where you were going and then instruct me not to tell anyone else? Just spit it out, jerk," she bit out, and Michael rounded on her.
"Look, I'm not the one who had the communication glitch, that was you. I came out here so I wouldn't be bothered, and I told you where I was just in case of apocalyptic alien-type emergencies, so you can just toddle yourself back the way you came," Michael yelled back at her, scooping up another handful of pebbles.
"Well, unfortunately, I can't do that. If it was just my choice to come out here, I'd be gone already, but I've come to try to talk some sense into you on behalf of a tall blonde hybrid who's crying her eyes out in your apartment," Tess snarled angrily, and Michael looked up in surprise.
"Izzy's back already?" he asked with interest, and Tess made a strangled noise in her throat. Without warning, she had stalked herself over to Michael and smacked him across the face.
"OW!" Michael whined, cupping a hand to his cheek. "What the hell was that for?"
"I tell you Isabel is crying like her heart is breaking back in town, and that's all you have to say to me? You really don't deserve her," she gound out, turning to leave, but Michael caught her arm.
"Hey now, wait a minute!" he yelled, grabbing her other arm as well and shaking her roughly. "I love Isabel. I just didn't know she'd be home so soon, and I'm not ready to go back yet. That doesn't mean I don't care." Tess just sighed, detaching herself from Michael's grasp and sitting down gingerly on the dusty ground. After a beat, he did the same. A few long moments passed while the two watched the sunset, Tess waiting for Michael to start.
"I… I really don't like it when Isabel's gone," Michael started haltingly, and Tess looked confused.
"Michael, that's her job. Isabel's not the kind of girl that you can chain to the stove, she needs to get out in the world and show them all what she's made of," she reasoned, and Michael shook his head.
"That's not what I mean. I would never… she would never allow me to even try to make her do something she didn't want to do. I wouldn't want to try, that would be like pulling the wings off a butterfly. I just meant that I don't work right when she's not here," he sighed, trying to find the right words for what he was thinking. He knew Tess would patiently listen, now that she knew he wasn't just doing this to be an asshole. The two of them had become really close over the years, sharing a familial bond that he had only ever shared with Max before. And Tess was much better at giving advice, he thought with a small smile.
"I don't know what it is that she does to me, but it's like I can't be calm or rational or sane when she's gone," he confessed in a low voice.
"Michael," Tess said with a smile, "you're in love. That's how it goes." He just nodded, deep in thought.
"I think…" he trailed off, and Tess looked at him expectantly.
"What do you think?" "I think… I wanna marry Isabel," he let out in a rush, looking at the ground. He waited for a little bit, waiting for Tess to say something. When she didn't, he cautiously turned his head to look at her. He burst out laughing when he saw her; her eyes were open as wide as he had ever seen them, and she had the goofiest grin on her face.
"Do you know how long everybody's been wondering when you were gonna propose to her?!?" she shrieked, shaking his arm in her excitement.
"No," Michael said warily, not sure if he wanted to know.
"Forever! You know, the rest of us had bet that after Max and Liz, you and Isabel would be the next to marry. We had to wait through my wedding, Maria's wedding, which we thought might not even happen, and Jim and Amy's wedding for crying out loud. Our parents move faster than you!!" she laughed, and Michael scowled.
"It's really not something that anyone should rush into," he said a little condescendingly and Tess clutched her side as she rolled around on the ground laughing.
"What's so damn funny?!?"
"Okay, Michael, you gotta do this on your own. I can help a little, but it's not gonna mean anything if you don't come up with it yourself," Tess lectured as the two friends pushed a shopping cart down the supermarket aisles. Michael frowned slightly as he looked at all the food on the shelves.
"I get that, but do I really have to cook? Couldn't I just take her to Senor Chow's or something?" he asked, looking thoughtfully at all the different kinds of rice.
"Isabel hates rice," Tess said distractedly as she pulled Michael away by the shirt. "And no, you cannot take her to Senor Chow's. Do you really think you can pull off a romantic proposal over sweet and sour tortillas? I didn't think so."
"But, Tess, I don't know how to cook," he whispered plaintively.
"You'll figure it out. Now, what does Isabel like to eat?" she turned to ask him, and Michael scratched his head. "Well?"
"Ummm, she likes pasta I think," he mused.
"Buddha save him," Tess murmured to the ceiling.
"Okay, you've got the list I gave you?" Tess grilled, and Michael pursed his lips in annoyance as Liz and Maria snickered at him.
"Yes, I have the list. And I want to personally thank each and every one of you for being so supportive of this whole endeavor," he said pointedly to the two human girls, who feigned innocent expressions.
"Oh, you're very welcome, Michael," Liz oozed, which set Maria to giggling again.
"And just remember what we told you… you need to boil the water first before you put the noodles in it," Maria finished, and Michael just glared.
"Girls," he snorted, looking at his list. After a moment, he looked up at the three women still in the apartment. "Um, you can all go now. I think I can manage this on my own."
"Okay, Michael. Talk to you later!" Maria called out as she retreated to the door, smiling warmly at him.
"Yeah, much later," Liz chuckled.
"Tess, I'll call you tomorrow," Michael said, still reading the list as they closed the door behind them.
"No, I don't think you will," Tess sighed; Liz and Maria laughing their agreement as the trio made their way out of the apartment complex.
"No, no, you know what? No," Isabel repeated, pacing the floor of Max and Liz's living room while Tess and Liz alternated between looking at each other and looking at their friend with concern.
"Isabel-" Tess began, but got cut off.
"No! Seriously, I've now thought about this for a while, and I've decided that it's not fair. It isn't! Why do I let him do this to me?" the blonde finished wearily, dropping into the armchair adjacent to the couch.
"Because he gives you hot monkey lovin' like no one else can?" Liz deadpanned, and Tess cracked up. Isabel attempted to glare icily at Liz, who just gave her a mocking sad look.
"That wasn't funny, Liz," she admonished, but her lips twitched tellingly.
"Oh-ho-ho, yes it was!" Tess giggled uncontrollably, and Isabel lost it completely, rolling her eyes and smiling.
"Okay, maybe it was."
"Score!!" Liz screamed, pumping her fists at the ceiling.
"And I thought that only happened upstairs," a masculine voice floated teasingly to the three girls from the front door. Three pairs of eyes widened comically, peering over the top of the couch and around the side of the chair to see Max leaning against the front door, eyebrow raised in question. Tess just laughed harder and rolled off the couch onto the floor when Liz whimpered and covered her head with her arms. Isabel's face lit up when she saw him.
"Max!" she exclaimed joyfully, launching herself into his arms.
"Hey, old lady," he chuckled, hugging his sister tightly. He looked over her shoulder at his wife, who was now along with Tess regarding him with matching sad smiles. "You okay?" he asked the blonde head buried in his shoulder.
"Mmmmph-muphrrr," she replied unintelligibly, making Max laugh softly again before letting a serious expression take over his face.
"I, uh… heard about Michael," he said carefully, noting how her shoulders tensed in his grasp before she pulled away from him and sighed in irritation.
"Okay… you told him, didn't you?" she called over her shoulder, not looking back into the living room. Liz and Tess squeaked, ducking their heads behind the couch. She regarded Max morosely as she continued. "They really weren't supposed to tell you."
"Come on, Iz, you know that Liz tells me everything," he replied with a mischievous grin.
"I do not!!" Liz called out from the living room, making Isabel smile.
"But seriously… I'm glad she told me," Max stated honestly, and Isabel's smile fell. She looked intently at the floor as she felt her brother's eyes searching her face. "Would you have told me, Iz?"
"Told you what? That even after eight years of being together and even with all the time I spend away from Roswell when I work, that he still needs more space from me? That he obviously cares so little for me that he would take off the day I arrived back from DC to avoid me?" she finished weakly, hating the hot tears that blurred the edges of her vision. Max regarded her with sad understanding and brushed her wild bangs out of her face.
"Come on. We'll talk in the dining room," he invited, leading her into the next room and pulling a chair out for her, which she accepted.
"I don't even see why I'm talking to you about this…" Isabel grumped, watching out of the corner of her eye as Max took a seat directly to her left at the head of the table and sandwiched one of her hands in his.
"Because I'm your brother and I care about you," he explained softly and Isabel sighed, already giving in. Max was always so sincere and so kind that she had never been able to remain mad at or closed off from him for very long.
"Max, I know you do. But I'm sure the last thing you want to hear about is the romantic difficulties between your sister and your best friend." Isabel was utterly startled when Max laughed aloud at that. "What's so funny?"
"Isabel…" Max managed, reaching out a hand to wrap a chunk of her blonde hair around his index finger and give it a good tug.
"Ow," she whined, using the thumb and middle finger of her right hand to flick him none-too-gently between the eyes. He mock-glared at her before responding.
"Have you gone completely blonde on me?" he queried, and she gasped in indignation, still half laughing.
"Not funny, Max! What's that supposed to mean?" Max released his hold on her hair and rubbed the spot at the top of his nose gingerly.
"It means that you're nuts, Iz. I mean… I care about everyone in our circle of friends, a lot. Even the two chicks who are probably standing right next to the doorframe, listening in on our conversation," he added with a grin, and Isabel stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before hearing Tess' infectious laughter ring out again, Liz's furious shushing, and the elephant-like stamping of feet running up the stairs and laughing out loud.
"How did you know…?" she began, and Max shrugged.
"What can I say? I know my wife pretty well. But seriously, Iz. You know how much I love Liz, and Tess, and Maria, Kyle, Alex, Brody… but you and Michael will always have a special place in my heart. For so long, it was just the three of us. You two are the most important people in the world to me, and I want you guys to be happy." Isabel looked up at him and lifted one eyebrow; her way of implying that there was more to things than someone was telling her.
"Okay, okay… I'd like to deck Michael. He should think before he does things that he's got to know will hurt you," Max reluctantly told her.
"Ohhhh, Max, stop it! You know I can take care of myself," she protested, unconsciously drawing herself up to her full height in an attempt to prove her point.
"Isabel, I know you. And I know that you're one of the strongest people I've ever met… but you've never been able to protect yourself where Michael is concerned," he said gently, and had to restrain himself from wincing as he saw the flash of indignant anger in her dark eyes.
"Oh, please! Like there's anything Michael can dish out that I can't take?" she stormed, rising to her feet and crossing her arms over her stomach and glaring at Max, who just sighed.
"Like there's anything he can dish out that you can take. Isabel, you can't lie to me about this. It's always been like this in one way or another over the years," Max insisted, and Isabel rounded on him.
"Okay, now that is total bullshit. You're the one who could never handle Michael, Max! For years, all you did was fight," she snapped, but Max pushed ahead.
"Is it really? Yeah, we fought pretty much nonstop from about puberty until adulthood, but it never hurt me like it did you," he pointed out, and Isabel rolled her eyes, but he continued to make his point.
"Michael's always been the one to throw punches aimlessly, trying to defend himself from everything he couldn't see and only hurting the people that got in the way. Now I never cared much about that, but you always did. To Roswell in general you've always been the untouchable Ice Princess and for a good reason. You never let anything get to you. Nobody could make you mad enough to lose your cool, and you accepted every childhood and teenage heartbreak with your head held high. The only person to ever break you has been Michael," he said evenly, noting that Isabel was no longer fighting with him; she was openly gaping.
"Is that what you think? That Michael broke me, like a… dog or a new pair of shoes?" she choked out, pain etched on her face, and Max shook his head.
"No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that nobody could ever reach you like him. Not me, not Mom or Dad… nobody," he exhaled forcefully, trying to think of an example when she just looked at him blankly. "You remember when we were eight, and you used your powers to put those pink bows in my hair when we left for school without me noticing, for the sole reason of humiliating me in front of Liz, and Liz saw me and laughed? And you remember what I said to you?" Isabel nodded, actually paling a shade at the memory.
"Yeah. It's still number one on my top five list of the most hurtful things you've ever said to me," she said softly, but without reproach.
"I said that I hated you and never wanted to speak to you again… and that I wished Mom and Dad had left you at the side of the road that night," Max repeated, clearly still shamed by what he'd said so long ago. "You're right, it's the worst thing I've ever said to you. But you know what I remember most about it? You didn't cry." Isabel's head shot up, fixing him with a puzzled look, trying to remember.
"I'm sure I did," she said without conviction, and Max shook his head again.
"No, you didn't. Twenty years later, and it's still the most horrible thing I could ever say to you, but you never cried about it… probably just as well, since I regretted saying it as soon as the words left my mouth," he added ruefully, and she let a faint smile cross her face.
"I didn't speak to you for a week, and you spent every minute of that week apologizing to me," she recalled, Max nodding his assent.
"Yup. And you remember how… how you used to divide your lunch in half every day and give half of it to Michael?" Isabel nodded dumbly, the thought of the terrible way that Michael had been treated as a child still enough to make her speechless with terror and anger. "One day when we were about ten years old, Michael got ragged on pretty bad by some kids in class about Hank and how he was poor… and that was the first day that he ever refused to eat your lunch. You walked up to the lunch table the same as every day, and plunked down the half-lunch in front of him, just like every other day, and without so much as a glance at you he shoved it back." Max watched Isabel carefully; she took a deep breath and nodded again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He leaned forward, catching her hand in his so that she would look at him. When she did, he noticed that her eyes were bright with unshed tears and he smiled reassuringly at her.
"When he did that… you looked like he'd slapped you or something. You sat there, stunned, for a good minute, just staring at him, and he didn't look back at you. So you swept up the entire lunch into your arms and stalked out of the cafeteria, dumping it in the garbage on your way out. I remember that Michael and I didn't say a word to each other for the rest of the period… and he just sat there, staring off into space and looking like he might be violently ill at any moment. I still don't know what you told the teacher or Mom to make them allow you to go home for the day… but I do know that you spent the rest of the evening in your room, crying."
Isabel blinked back the tears that were burning in her eyes at the memory of that day. She wanted to tell Max that she remembered every detail of it, but she didn't trust her own voice. Instead, she sat down heavily in the chair she had abandoned, exhaling shakily.
"Do you see what I'm trying to say now?" Max asked softly. "Maybe you're the one who needs space. You always put up a brave façade, no matter what happens, but when Michael does insensitive things like this – which is frequently, if you hadn't noticed – it tears you up inside, I can tell. Maybe… maybe you're just too close." Isabel chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip for a moment.
"Yes… I think I do," she whispered in reply.
"So you understand… you don't have to try to be the strong one, Isabel. Maybe you just need to do what's best for you right now, not what's best for Michael or for your relationship. What do you think?" Isabel nodded slowly.
"I think you're right."
"Shhhh!"
"Oh, stuff it, I'm being quiet."
"Not now, you're not."
"Well, neither are you!"
"Shhhh!!"
Tess rolled her eyes and crept quietly behind Liz down the stairs. They had tried to be good, but they just had to know what Max and Isabel were talking about, it was just too much.
"Be careful, this step squeaks in the middle," Liz whispered over her shoulder. It wasn't really that she was eavesdropping because she wanted to… she just felt she had to. You know, to protect Isabel. Liz of all people knew how Max could get with Michael… especially where his sister was concerned. The fights between the two longtime best friends had become fewer and further between as the years passed, but there was always that little coil of tension between them. They were just different as night and day, and that was that.
"Can you hear anything?" Tess hissed next to her ear, and Liz shook her head. They were talking quietly. The two women pressed themselves against the wall at the base of the stairs, almost willing their bodies to melt into it. They both felt a lot like kids again, and they shared a secret smile with each other before tuning in to the conversation.
"…do what's right for you…" Max. The voice of reason, as always. Isabel gave a muffled answer.
"Dammit, did you catch that?" Tess mouthed to her, not quite daring to speak. Liz gave the negative once again.
"…know if you… extreme…" The females shared a look. Extreme?
"…seems that way… not… do that again… can't be serious…" Liz exhaled in frustration, inching closer to the doorjamb. If Max or Isabel were to move past the invisible dividing line that ran between the frame of the door and the opposing wall, they would surely see her. If Tess were to bump her at all, she'd be standing in the doorway.
"But you always hate going to DC, Iz," Max reasoned dubiously, and Liz knitted her brows in confusion. Isabel just got back from DC.
"Well, at least there I know I'm needed. Alan would be thrilled with the prospect of me moving up there, even if it's only on a semi-permanent basis. The intern he hired, unlike Liz was, is totally unequipped to work in an office setting at all, least of all one as ridiculously hectic as a Congressman's. His affairs are held together by scotch tape and prayer!" Isabel exclaimed, and Liz's mouth dropped open in shock. She wasn't… but from the vice-like grip of Tess' small hand on her upper arm, her worst fears had been confirmed. Liz turned her eyes heavenward, praying silently to whoever might be listening. Please, please, please don't tell me she's leaving…
"I don't know, Isabel. I was thinking something a little less drastic."
"Less drastic doesn't register with Michael. I tried telling him that we would have to break up if things didn't change years ago… all it did was hurt him."
"Well, good! Maybe for once in his life, he should be hurt by you, then he'd at least get some perspective on your-"
smack
Tess turned wide and shocked eyes to Liz, who in turn took a deep breath and dared to peek around the corner. Isabel's back was to her. Max was facing her, but she really doubted he'd notice she was there. He held a hand to his left cheek, obviously because Isabel had smacked him. Liz quickly retreated behind the wall, whispering to Tess.
"She slapped him!"
"Isabel?" Tess queried with disbelief. The petite blonde couldn't remember the last time that the other female hybrid had lost her temper with anyone.
"I'm sorry," Isabel said in a quavering voice.
"No… no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Max intoned hollowly, still surprised by her outburst.
"Well, I guess we're even then. I shouldn't have hit you." There was a long, drawn-out pause during which neither of the hiding women wanted to even breathe for fear they'd be found out. They had no idea the talking had gotten this intense… and there was no way they could get back upstairs without those two noticing.
"Maybe… you're right. Maybe you should move out to DC. Your emotions are obviously running high here, Iz… perhaps you need more space from Michael than you think. When were you planning to leave?"
"Now. As soon as possible," Isabel sighed. At that revelation, Liz and Tess both threw caution to the wind. They lept into the doorway, making themselves immediately known to Max. Frantically, they mouthed the word "no" and made negative cut-off motions with their arms. Max at first looked angry because they eavesdropped, but the look quickly gave way to confusion as he tried to figure out what they were saying.
"Max? What's that look for?" Isabel questioned her brother, who quickly made his expression impassive once again.
"Oh, nothing… I just thought you might stay a little longer is all," Max covered, shooting his wife questions with his eyes. Isabel sighed and shook her head.
"No, the longer I stay here the less likely I am to actually go through with this." Isabel ran a shaky hand through her hair, and Max placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, before pulling her into his embrace again. He looked at Liz and Tess incredulously over her shoulder, mouthing to them.
'What?'
The two women tried to communicate that Michael was going to propose to Isabel tonight, while the blonde in question spoke again.
"I just don't know what else to do, Max. He won't tell me straight out what he wants… maybe by leaving, I'll be giving him the room he needs to… do whatever." Liz got down on one knee, extending one hand to the still standing Tess, covering her heart with the other. Tess, catching on, clasped her hands below her chin, fluttering her eyelids. They turned to Max in tandem for his reaction. He stared at them blankly for a second.
'Choking?'
Liz and Tess stared open-mouthed at him. How could he not get that one??
"Maybe you're right, Isabel," Max said, pulling back to focus on his sister again. "Do you need help… packing?" He raised his eyebrows, directing the last word of the question at Liz and Tess, who screamed silently, clutching their heads in melodramatic frustration. Liz gave her husband a look of horrified disbelief before grabbing Tess and marching loudly up the stairs halfway and back down again.
"Hey, you two! Get everything all worked out?" she called out cheerfully when she re-entered the room, glaring daggers at Max, who held his hands out palms-up in helpless apology. Isabel sniffed, nodding sadly.
"Oh, Iz… what's wrong?" Tess smoothed Isabel's hair off her forehead and she inhaled shakily before replying.
"I'm… I've decided to move to DC. Permanently." Tess and Liz gasped in dismay.
"No!" Tess cried.
"Max!" Liz shrieked.
"What?!?" Max yelled back defensively.
"Guys, it was entirely my decision to leave, Max had nothing to do with it." Isabel made her way to the front door, grabbing her jacket off the coat tree.
"But – but, you can't!" Liz whined, and Isabel smiled crookedly at her.
"I think I have to. Will you guys help me pack? I don't think I can do that alone," she confided, carefully looking at the door instead of at her friends. The thought of leaving Roswell for good made her feel sick.
"Uh…" Tess looked at her watch, while Liz dragged Max out of Isabel's line of sight and whispered in his ear.
"We were trying to tell you that Michael is planning to propose to Isabel tonight." Max's eyes widened comically.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed, and Liz clapped a hand over his mouth.
"Are you okay Max?" Isabel rounded the corner, concern evident on her face. Liz turned around to face her and the couple smiled a little too broadly.
"Fine! Just fine… Liz just… shocked me, a little… that's all." Isabel shook her head and chuckled.
"Newlyweds," she mumbled, giving them a look.
"Hey, we've been married for seven years, when are you going to stop calling us that?" Max complained, following his sister into the front hall, where Tess already had her jacket on and was looking rather nervous.
"When you stop acting like it!"
"Oh, hey, guys… maybe we should meet Maria at the bar or something. You know, have one last drink together before Iz takes off?" Tess looked hopeful, showing her watch to Liz. It was only 5:30, Michael wouldn't be expecting her until 6:30.
"Oh, guys, I'd love to but… I think a drink is the last thing I need right now," she shot them down.
"Well, then… I guess we should head over to the apartment," Tess offered reluctantly.
"Oh-kaaaaaaay…" Michael mumbled to himself as he finished bandaging his finger. Slicing mushrooms was a lot more dangerous than he thought, as now three of the fingers on his left hand could testify. He checked the oven clock and his shoulders slumped. Five-fifteen… he was way behind schedule. At least the noodles went off without a hitch.
"Right, then… mushrooms in the pan… with olive ooooil… " the tip of his toungue appeared at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on measuring out the oil into the pan. "Ha-ha! Perfect!" he crowed triumphantly, inspecting the doused mushroom slices and asparagus tips with satisfaction.
"Now, dried basil, pepper, and marjoram…" he peered at the open cookbook on the counter, the glass jar of dried and crushed basil in one hand. Unfortunately, he had spilled the soy sauce from the cabinet on the recipe while looking for the pepper and all he could read was "1/4".
"1/4 what?" he asked irritatedly, trying to rub the soy sauce stain off with his thumb. It didn't work.
"Crap," he whispered, and reached for the ¼ measuring cup, dumping the contents of the bottle in their entirety into the waiting cup before heaping it over the vegetables. He lifted one eyebrow at the sight.
"Okay, that… doesn't look right," he muttered to the empty room. Picking up the pan, he walked to the sink and tried to scrape off some of the basil, but the olive oil had already soaked up the majority of it. Shrugging, he replaced the pan on the range and turned on the burner.
"Okay, noodles…" he said, looking into the pot before gasping in dismay.
"Shitty!" he yelled, stirring the grossly over-cooked noodles with a wooden spoon. "Awwwwww…" He dumped the contents of the pot into the mesh colander in the sink, lifting it up and grimacing with disgust as the lumpy mess dripped through the holes.
"This really isn't funny!! I don't have time to go get more noodles!" he yelled to nobody, exhaling loudly in defeat, staring at the destroyed pasta. After a moment, a strange smell invaded his nostrils, and he surveyed the kitchen curiously, sniffing.
"NO!!!" he cried out when he spotted the smoke billowing from the pan of mushrooms and asparagus, and he dove for it. In his haste, he grabbed the side of the pan instead of the handle, and howled in pain, throwing the saucepan across the room, where it left a good dent in the plaster wall and mushroom slices sticking to various kitchen surfaces. He hopped around, cursing, for a minute before flipping the faucet on and holding his burned hand under the water. And then, he heard voices.
"Oh, no!!!" Tess' unmistakeable voice drifted in to him. "I FORGOT THE BOXES!! WE'LL BE BACK IN A MINUTE, ISABEL!!" Michael immediately appreciated Tess' gesture, while he heard Max reprimand her and ask why in the world she was screaming so loud. Michael decided to salvage as much of the romantic atmosphere as he could, lighting the candles on the dining room table hurriedly as he heard a key turn in the lock and the door open. When he attempted to smooth the tablecloth down, the candles tipped over and ignited the cloth.
"Gaaahhhh!" Michael yelled as the door swung wide and Isabel walked through it.
"Honestly, those three are the strangest…" Isabel got out before she looked up. Michael was there. In the apartment.
With his hands over his face, peeking through his bandaged fingers at the table, which was currently engulfed in flames.
"Fuck, Michael, what are you doing?!?" Isabel screamed, quickly putting out the fire with her powers, breathing hard in fright.
"Sorry… I… you're early," he finished lamely, and Isabel turned a disbelieving look on him.
"Early? For what?!? Your model of the great Chicago fire?" she demanded. He stood there looking pathetic for a moment; then the anger she was familiar with suffused his face.
"You know what? This is a sign! It’s symbolic!" he boomed, gesturing to the smoldering remains of the tablecloth. Isabel just raised an eyebrow.
"I'm serious! This is how it's meant to be with me and women. It's physically impossible for me to be romantic! Every time I try to, it always fails. Look at this!! Do you see this?!? All I wanted to do was prepare you a dinner that you like, create a really romantic atmosphere so that you would know that I put some effort into the evening, and propose to you, and look at this! Look!!" He once again gestured to the table. Even the flowers had been singed.
Isabel's mouth dropped open in shock. Had she really heard what she thought she heard?
"You know, there's a dent in the wall now. In the kitchen. There's… pasta goo in the sink, and mushrooms all over the cabinets. So you know. You know, just to… prepare you for the horror that is my attempt at cooking."
"Yes."
Michael stood rooted to the spot in stunned silence for a moment. That hadn't been the reaction he was expecting.
"Yes? Yes what?" he queried, confused, and Isabel rolled her eyes.
"You said you wanted to propose… I'm assuming the romantic setup was atmosphere for proposing marriage, am I right?" Michael nodded glumly, and Isabel's expression softened as she really absorbed how adorable the situation was. Regardless of the outcome, he'd done this all for her.
"Well, then… my answer is yes," she repeated steadily, and Michael looked honestly surprised.
"Yes… you mean, yes you'll marry me?" he squeaked out in disbelief. Isabel giggled softly and nodded her affirmation, and grew confused when his expression became even more depressed.
"What, you wanted me to say no?" She perched herself on one of the chairs, looking up at him curiously. This time it was Michael's turn to roll his eyes.
"No, of course not! But I didn't even get to ask." Isabel couldn't believe her eyes. Michael was actually pouting like a little boy, and she laughed lightly.
"Well then, ask me!" she exclaimed impatiently. Michael swallowed hard. He wasn't sure how to do this now… Maria told him to do the whole 'on bended knee' thing, but with the romantic table setting reduced to ashes mere inches away, it didn't seem quite appropriate. His eyes searched the room wildly for a moment, trying to figure out what to do, and they came to rest on Isabel. Beautiful Isabel, who had made his heart skip a beat every time he saw her since the day they broke out of the pods. Strong Isabel, who had managed to hold everything and everyone together in times of unthinkable crisis with her iron will, level head, and staggering amount of confidence in all of her friends and family. His Isabel, whose love for him had never wavered no matter how many times he hurt her without meaning to over the years. It was nothing short of a miracle that she was sitting here with him, love and trust shining from her dark eyes, even after what Tess had informed him that she felt about his conspicuous absence yesterday afternoon. It terrified him beyond description when he thought about himself being the cause of her pain, her tears. How could she still be here, smiling at him like that, when by all rights she should be halfway across the country by now and swearing never to look back?
Michael didn't know, and looking at the blonde goddess in front of him, he didn't care. Isabel believed he could do this right, and that was all that mattered.
"Marry me, Isabel."
A smile to rival the sun lit upon her face and she launched herself up out of the chair and into his arms.
"Yes!!" Isabel ran her fingers through his soft hair, peppering his face with kisses, punctuating each one with her affirmative. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Michael just soaked up her love like a dying man in the desert; he needed her, he couldn't get enough of her. He stilled her joyous movement with his hands on either side of her face, kissing her deeply. Michael lost himself in the sweet tangle of their tongues, nearly weeping in his happiness. He knew in that moment that he couldn't live without her, and his heart lept at the realization that he wouldn't have to. Michael rested his forehead against Isabel's when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily. After a while, he felt the slight shift of her head under his and opened his eyes to see her regarding the scorched table with amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Think we should order some pizza?" she laughed, twining her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Michael sighed heavily, his face once again scrunched up in disappointment.
"I wanted it to be perfect, you know," he muttered sadly, thinking how nice it would have been to surprise her with the dinner he had envisioned. Isabel looked up at him tenderly, caressing his dear face with her long, slender fingers until he looked at her again.
"Oh, Michael…" she sighed, kissing him softly. "It was."
end