Title: Tricks and Treats
Author: SansuCry
Email: sansucry@earthlink.net
Rating: TEEN, some parts MATURE for violence and language
Category: AU, M/L.
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Roswell or any one associated with it.
Summary: My own little Roswell world. No Isabelle. No Tess. No shooting. It’s Halloween time, and Liz Parker is going to learn all about monsters and aliens and soulmates. My apologies to all the Kyle lovers out there…he just makes a great villain.
A/N: I know, I know. Another story. Well, I’m hoping this will be just a few short parts, but you know how that goes….I’ve got a million ideas for fics written down, some complete with outlines, but somehow I end up writing the ones that just pop into my head. Like this one.
Well, this part is the Epilogue, so if you haven't read the story go here first before continuing:
Tricks and Treats Archive
Epilogue Part 1
October 30, 2000
“Way to go, Valenti!” Tommy Sanders called out across the quad.
“Good one, man. Good one,” Paulie Smith added with a thumbs up sign.
Kyle raised his right arm to his friends in a victory wave as he pulled Liz into his side. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he returned in a very bad Elvis impersonation.
“Kyle, what’s going on?” Liz asked with a concerned frown. Kyle was one of the most popular juniors at West Roswell, but even this kind of attention was unusual to say the least.
“Nothing, babe,” he said as he gave her a peck on the cheek. “Just celebrating this past fine and glorious weekend.”
“Oh,” she said as they walked toward the room where her first class was held. She knew that the football team had won the game Friday night by a landslide. Of course she had been there. Her boyfriend was co-captain of the team after all, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Kyle’s jovial attitude and growing popularity had nothing to do with the team’s victory. Before she had a chance to question him further, the bell rang and they had to part ways.
Even for a Monday morning, English class buzzed with an excessive amount of chatter, and as Liz strained to pick up on some of the latest scuttlebutt she swore she heard a few people quietly muttering the name Max Evans. Strangely enough, all eyes involved in the conversation seemed to immediately shift to her after each incantation.
“C’mon, guys and girls, settle down. I know you’re all wanting to gossip about your oh so busy weekend, but the next hour is my time,” Mrs. Matthews directed. “Now does anyone remember where we left off in Romeo and Juliet?”
Liz’s mind quickly drifted away from anything related to Mrs. Matthews or William Shakespeare. Max Evans. Even now, just hearing his name made her heart race as much as it had the first time she had seen him. He was the new kid when they had begun the third grade, living alone with his widowed father in a nondescript part of town. She had noticed him the minute he had set foot on the playground, his feathered bangs draped across his forehead as his face studied the asphalt near his shoe. To this day she still remembered the absolute peacefulness and sense of completion that had flowed through her the first time that his warm, amber eyes stared at her, glimpsing into her very soul as he allowed her to experience the beauty and gentleness of his.
She had felt that same comforting sensation many times a day, every day, during the next four years, yet she and Max hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to each other over that same time frame. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to talk to him, but every time she did he shied away from her, just as he did with everyone else in the school. Then as soon as she would walk away he would gaze at her with such a sense of longing that his eyes would be practically begging her to come back to him. With each reluctant rejection she had begun to wonder whether his self-imposed isolation was actually something that was beyond his control, but then she would scoff at herself for such foolishness. He was just a timid loner, plain and simple.
Of course his shyness was misinterpreted as conceit by some of their classmates and, as they changed from children into ‘young adults,’ the taunting and snide remarks become a daily occurrence. The spitefulness toward the boy who preferred to sit by himself and read grew a little worse each day until one morning half of the mesmerizing amber gaze that she had begun to revel in wasn’t visible past his swollen blackened eyelid. Someone had beaten him up. Through the Roswell Junior High rumor mill, and the Maria grapevine in particular, Liz found out that Kenny Sanders had attacked Max on the walk home from school the previous afternoon. Peculiarly enough, Maria had commented, Max hadn’t lifted a finger to fight back.
Up until that point Liz had done the best she could to defend Max to her classmates without getting too involved, taking the teasing in stride while championing his cause even as he continued to remain stoically silent. However, this full out assault on such a quiet, gentle soul was the last straw for her. If he wasn’t going to put an end to their abuse, she would do it for him. That afternoon during P.E. class, it was a matter of pure luck that Kenny had been chosen as the opposing team’s catcher for the class’s baseball game. Unfortunately for him luck had nothing to do with the fact that Liz’s hands couldn’t keep a tight enough grasp on the wooden bat when it came time for her to hit the ball. Kenny’s nose had been broken, and as all the other kids rushed to get a better view of the blood pouring from the startled boy’s face, two sets of eyes shared the knowledge that the accident had been anything but accidental.
The next morning Liz had found a single white rose in her locker, and as she rushed to her classroom to thank Max she had been surprised to see that he was not sitting at his desk. He didn’t return the next day either, and after a week of absences Liz realized that Max had permanently left the public school system.
Her reminiscing was interrupted by a sharp jab in her side. She started to give the perpetrator a piece of her mind when she realized it was Maria. Her best friend pointed to the book in front of her and mouthed the command, “Pay attention.”
Liz looked around at the other occupants of the classroom. This scenario seemed so familiar, almost as if she were experiencing déjà vu, yet something was…different. Now if she could only figure out what…
“I’d ask what’s up with you, chica,” Maria commented after class ended, “but I’m sure I already know it has to do with Max Evans.”
“People keep whispering his name and staring at me,” Liz explained. “I’ve got a strange feeling that something really bad is going on.”
“If it would make you feel better I’ll take you to go see him after school,” Maria offered.
“Just like that?” she questioned.
“Yeah, why not?” Maria asked. “I think it’s time he had a visitor, don’t you?”
She couldn’t deny how appealing the thought of seeing Max Evans again after all these years was. Would he remember who she was? Would he still stare at her as if he were seeing into her soul? Deciding she had nothing to lose she gave Maria an amicable smile and said, “Sure, why not.”
Later that day they met by the Jetta and drove out of the parking lot in silence, Maria’s unusual solemness more than a little unnerving. Did her friend know why everyone at school had been talking about her and Max? She wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth.
“Why are we here?” she asked in confusion when the car finally came to a stop.
“I brought you to see Max,” Maria explained.
“Why would Max be here? This isn’t his house,” she apprehensively explained. “He lives on Murray Road with his dad.”
Maria let out a sigh and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Liz. I shouldn’t have brought you out here. I thought you were ready to deal with this, but I can see now that I was wrong.”
“Deal with what?” she asked, the panic rising in her throat. “Maria, tell me what is going on.”
Her friend diverted her gaze out the window, a sniffle and quick wipe of her face revealing her emotional state. “Liz…” she began, then suddenly sat straight up in the seat. Craning her neck to get a better view of a particular spot in the distance, she said with a low moan, “Oh, no. I can’t believe it. How could Kyle do something like this.” Before Liz could ask her friend for an explanation, the blonde was out of the car and dashing across the grass. Liz had no other choice but to follow.
She nearly tripped over a sobbing, crestfallen Maria when she breached the next hill, a startled gasp escaping her mouth before she froze at the sight in front of her.
“I’m sorry, Liz. I didn’t think the rumor was true or I wouldn’t have ever brought you out here,” Maria choked out.
Liz refused to understand why she should be upset about a kicked over gravestone defaced with spraypainted phrases like “FREAKS R US” and a few misspelled “PSYCHO”s until she saw the impossible.
Maxwell Z. Evans
March 15, 1984-October 31, 1996
“No,” she insisted with a shake of her head. “NO! Something is wrong. Max isn’t dead. I know he isn’t.”
“Liz…”
“He can’t be dead,” she vowed as she dropped to the ground alongside her friend, her tears preventing her from taking another look at the toppled granite marker. “This is all wrong. I’ve seen the future, and this is not how it’s supposed to be. Max is my soulmate. We’re going to get married in Las Vegas. When we make love we’ll be nervous because it will be the first time for both of us. Our babies will be born on Halloween. And we’ll live happily ever after. He’s not dead. He’s not.”
She felt a pair of comforting arms wrap around her as Maria’s voice pleaded, “Liz, please don’t do this to yourself. Max’s death wasn’t your fault, and you have to let this go.”
“Something’s not right, ‘ria,” she protested. “Max is alive. I can feel him.”
“C’mon, chica,” Maria quietly requested. “Let me take you home.”
“No,” she countered. “Take me to Max’s house. I need to talk to his dad. He’ll know the truth.”
Maria’s grasp stiffened around her, “Liz, you’re delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
She wrenched herself away from Maria and stumbled to her feet. “If you won’t take me there, then I’ll walk.”
Maria threw her hands out in frustration, “Liz, you know Max’s dad doesn’t live in that house anymore.”
“No,” Liz spat out, “I don’t know anything, because where I come from Max Evans is alive and well and living with his dad on Murray Road.”
“That may be so in the land of denial you’ve created for yourself,” Maria despondently remarked, “but this is the real world, and in this world Max Evans was beaten up in the seventh grade by Kenny Sanders. You broke Kenny’s nose in retaliation, and the next day Max didn’t show up for school. When he didn’t come back at all the school called the police to check out his house. They found his dad sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, covered in blood and holding Max’s dead body, rambling on about giving his son a peaceful death before ‘they’ could capture and torture him. Mr. Evans doesn’t live there anymore because he’s in prison. It wasn’t your fault, Liz. Mr. Evans was crazy. No one could have predicted that he would do what he did.”
Liz’s legs suddenly couldn’t hold her up as she recognized that Maria was telling the truth, and before the inviting blackness completely surrounded her she was hit with the horrible reality.
Max Evans had been murdered by his father four years earlier.
And it was all her fault.
Well, here I am at the end of my first completed fic. I know most of you had faith that I would provide a happy ending, so I guess now you have to ask yourselves: is this the end? Or is it just a trick? Tell me what you think.
Tricks and Treats - AU M/L TEEN [COMPLETED]
Moderators: Anniepoo98, Rowedog, ISLANDGIRL5, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, FSU/MSW-94, Hunter, Island Breeze, Forum Moderators
Tricks and Treats - AU M/L TEEN [COMPLETED]
Last edited by SansuCry on Sat Mar 01, 2003 8:10 am, edited 6 times in total.
Epilogue: take 2
Sansu sings in her best James Hetfield voice: Am I evil? Yes I am. :evil:
Ok, so technically it was a Diamondhead song before it was a Metallica song, but nobody can growl it out like ol’ Jimmy.
Anywhoooo, I guess you guys weren’t too happy with that epilogue, huh? :bad-words: I’ll admit that in a way it was a trick, so let’s try this again. Hope you like this one better…
Epilogue Part 2
March 8, 2000
“Max.”
“Max,” his dad’s voice called out to him as his shoulder was gently shaken. “Son.”
His eyes automatically squinted against the bright light streaming in between the closed panels of the motel room curtains. “Dad?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re….alive?”
“For now,” his father said wryly as he tried to wipe away some of the strain from his face. “Although neither one of us will be if we don’t get out of here soon. I certainly didn’t expect to sleep this long.”
“I don’t understand,” he asked in utter bewilderment, trying to keep calm despite the panic beginning to bubble up in his throat. “Where is here?”
“Missouri, I think,” his father said as he sat at the small table to peruse the map he had spread out there. “Or maybe Oklahoma. I’m not really sure since I was half-asleep for that last hour or so of driving. I guess the important thing is that we made it out of Michigan relatively unscathed.”
The panic began to worsen as he realized he truly had no idea what his father was talking about, although the routine of hiding out in a motel room was certainly nothing new. But what about Liz? Where was she, where were the kids, and why couldn’t he sense any of them?
“I definitely think it’s your turn to put the pedal to the metal,” his dad’s baritone voice snapped him back from his thoughts. “It’s a little out of the way, but if we take…” The directions were interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. Reaching into his shirt pocket, his father pressed a button and eagerly answered. “Hello? Hi, sweetie. Yeah, he’s right here. Hang on.” Offering the device to him his dad said with a knowing smile, “Someone wants to talk to you.”
He let out a partial sigh of relief as he grabbed the phone, desperate to find out how he and his soulmate had become separated. “Liz? Where are you? What’s going on?” he pleaded.
“Liz, is it? Your father and I have been wondering why you’ve been acting so strange lately. It’s nice to know that your distraction has a name.”
He wanted to cry out in joy and frustration. The disappointment that the woman on the other end of the line was not his wife was overridden by the fact that the voice currently speaking to him was one he never thought he would hear again, “Mom?” he whispered in agony.
“I only have a minute between my meetings, honey, but I wanted to see how you and your father were holding up. I can’t wait to see you guys in a couple more days, and please be the voice of reason. If your father asks you to speed, don’t do it, or I’ll make sure you don’t get your license. Love you guys! Bye.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it in disbelief. As he sat fully up in the bed he nearly gasped at the reflection staring back at him from the mirror across the room. “Something is wrong here,” he muttered as he stumbled to his feet to take a closer inspection of his features. “How old am I?”
“Well, technically you won’t be sixteen until next week, but there shouldn’t be a problem with you driving on your permit. I’ll be in the car with you the entire time.”
Sixteen next week? His heart dropped at his father’s words. Something was definitely wrong. He nearly threw up as he realized that if he truly were sixteen again that meant he and Liz weren’t even married, let alone the parents of two beautiful girls.
“C’mon, kiddo, I want to get a move on. Go toss your butt in the shower. We’ll have to stop somewhere along the way and get you a haircut because if I bring you to your mother looking like that she will have my hide.”
He pretended that he hadn’t heard his dad and requested that he repeat his statement. He nearly hyperventilated when his dad mentioned those two words again.
your mother
None of this was making any sense. It was as if he had been thrown into some alternate universe while being sent back through time. Whatever had happened to land him here was obviously some cruel cosmic joke. His parents had been returned to him, yet his wife and children had disappeared all in the same breath. He wanted to break down and cry until he realized that there was the slightest chance that he hadn’t completely lost them.
“Where is Liz?” he asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure he had spoken the words aloud.
“I’m sorry, son. What did you say?” his father inquired as he continued plotting their course on the map.
“Elizabeth Maxwe…” She wouldn’t be Liz Maxwell. She would be Liz Parker. “Elizabeth Parker? Do you know who she is?” he hesitantly questioned.
His father wrinkled his brow in thought as he commented, “Is she a new student at school? I don’t recognize the name. Principal Shanks is usually pretty good about letting me know about new students ahead of time so I can get a locker ready for them.”
His heart sank as he realized that his father didn’t know Liz. He couldn’t even be sure they lived in the same state. “You’re a janitor?” he warily asked, remembering the position his father held when they had lived in Chicago so many years earlier.
“Sorry to disappoint you, son,” his father chuckled. “Not everybody can be a scientist. You got your brains, your looks, and most of your other good qualities from your mother’s side of the family. You’d make me proud if you followed in her footsteps someday.”
“What footsteps would those be?” he questioned with even more reluctance. As far as he could remember his mother had been a librarian, and although he knew how much his parents loved and supported each other he doubted his father’s enthusiasm had anything to do with books or card catalogues.
“The entire purpose of this little road trip to Roswell, my dear boy,” his father scoffed. “The Special Unit!”
His eyes widened in horror as he turned to face his father. “You’re taking us to the Special Unit?”
His father finally tore his attention away from the map. Noticing the panic in his son’s expression the elder man voiced his concern. “Max, are you all right? You’re acting even more strange than usual this morning.”
“Do…do they know about her?” he stuttered out. “About where she is from?”
“Of course they do,” his father said nonchalantly. “That’s why they recruited her to head the Unit in the first place. It isn’t every day Antar’s top scientist agrees to run clinical trials in person.”
“How could you let her do this?” he angrily demanded. “How can you let her work with a bunch of murderers?”
His father rested the bridge of his nose against his thumb and index finger. “Max, would you please stop the dramatics and at least try to be happy for your mother? I know you don’t agree with animal testing, but you will not embarrass her in front of her new colleagues, especially since there is no other way to test the supplement.”
He suddenly got the feeling that he and his father were not talking about the same thing. There was no way the father he knew would take his mother’s involvement with the Special Unit so lightly. Apparently this world was very different from his, and he nervously wondered what other thing he would discover were ‘wrong’. He would have to be careful what he said until he knew for sure. “Why does she have to test the supplement on…animals?”
His dad gave him a scolding look and said matter-of-factly, “It’s a cat food supplement to stop them from producing hairballs. How else would they test it but to put it in the cat’s food?”
Crap! This was like living in the Twilight Zone. Last night he and Liz had waited until the girls were sound asleep before taking a nice relaxing bath together and then thoroughly ravishing each other. Now he was sixteen years old and sitting in a motel room with his deceased father. Everything he knew about his world had changed in the blink of an eye, and he had no idea why.
With a resigned sigh he asked, “So what exactly does the Special Unit do again?”
“They’re the branch of the government that tests drug related products created for non-human consumption,” his dad quoted as if reading from a brochure. “It’s been your mother’s dream to work there since before she and I even met, but you know all this already. We’ve talked about it a million times.”
“And Antar?” he questioned. “Have we talked about it, too?”
“Sure. Mom’s practically lived there for the past few years. It was a sacrifice, but the experience she gained in their chemicals division is finally paying off. Not only did she get into the Special Unit, but she’s heading it.” Frowning he asked, “Max, what is this all about? I get the feeling that you may be a little resentful of all these changes we’ve had to make.”
He didn’t quite know how to respond. It wasn’t as if he could come right out and say that he didn’t belong here, that in his world he was happily married and a proud father in his own right, that where he came from the man currently staring at him was no longer alive and that the Special Unit he knew of was the last place on Earth his mother would have wanted to work.
He sat down on the bed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he considered the differences between his two worlds and came to a sickening conclusion. Seeking confirmation he excused himself to shower, stepped into the bathroom, and rummaged through the bag of toiletries sitting on the counter, gasping with relief when he found a razor. Removing the protective cover and holding out his hand he pressed the blade against his middle finger until he felt a sharp sting, the red tinge that immediately colored his flesh indicating his attempt to cut himself had succeeded. Setting the razor down on the counter he wrapped one hand around the other and focused all his attention on the slick dampness seeping from the wound. There was no familiar tingling sensation, no slight glow, no miraculous mending of flesh.
There was nothing.
He immediately turned on the shower and climbed into the tub, praying that the sound of running water would block out the sobs that overcame him. As the cold water drenched his hair and rained down over his shaking form he didn’t want to believe this could really be happening, but there was no other explanation. The life he was living at the moment was the real one.
Refusing to even acknowledge the possibility that it was the truth he conjured up a kaleidoscope of images from that other world. The first time he laid eyes on Liz. How beautiful she looked in her burgundy sweater and faded jeans as she walked past his house, the afternoon sunlight turning her hair a thousand different shades of red and brown. The first touch of her fingers on his lips just moments before she unbuttoned his shirt. Their amazing dance in the gym of West Roswell High, and the wondrous lovemaking that took place there years later. Discovering that his baby was growing inside of her. Sending that baby off for her first day of kindergarten while holding onto her younger sister. One by one he tried to recall every moment of the twenty-six years he had lived in that other world, as if doing so would miraculously transport him back there, but when he opened his eyes he was still sitting in a motel room bathtub, his body chilled by the water even as his heart froze over with grief. He rested his weary head against his knees for several more minutes, almost hoping that he would be lucky enough to succumb to the slim chance of drowning, before he grasped the edges of the tub and pushed himself to standing. If he were stuck in this world he might as well make the best of it.
“I was about to send in the search and rescue team,” his father said with a mixture of teasing and mild irritation when he finally came out of the bathroom. Noticing the moroseness that had settled over his son the man added, “Max, I don’t expect you to tell me everything that’s going on with you, but please be honest: should I be worried?”
He couldn’t help the sarcastic chuckle that escaped his lips as he stuffed his wet boxers into the duffel bag next to the bed he had slept in. Retrieving clean clothes he laid them out before sitting down to face his father, making sure the towel wrapped around his waist covered all the right places. “Have you ever had a dream that was so real you could swear the things in it had actually taken place?”
Instead of answering him, his dad asked, “Is that what happened to you?”
“Yeah,” he said, refusing to hid the sadness wrought by his confession. “I dreamed that I was married to this beautiful girl…”
“…named Elizabeth Parker?” the elder man questioned.
“Elizabeth Maxwell,” he corrected, “and we had these two amazing daughters who looked just like their mother. Mom was originally from a planet named Antar, so I was half alien. Because of my special alien abilities Liz and I shared this incredible connection. We could talk to each other in our minds, but the best part was that I could feel her feelings, and I knew how much she loved me. She was everything I had ever wanted, had ever hoped to have, and I was so happy.”
His father looked down at his hands and bit his upper lip before remarking, “I’m not surprised that you’d have such a vivid and unusual dream. Our minds tend to play games with us when we haven’t had adequate rest, and with all the packing for the move neither one of us has been getting much sleep. I know this hasn’t been easy on you, having to leave your friends and starting a new school halfway through the year. Just a couple of more days and we’ll be settled into our new home. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a nice girl in Roswell to help you forget all about that imaginary Liz of yours.”
His father’s words made his throat clench until he remembered something Liz had once said.
I know in my heart we were destined to be together and, if anything, your mother’s murder interrupted the paths our lives should have taken for us to eventually meet.
Things in this world weren’t exactly as they had been before his mother was murdered, but those differences could be easily explained. His discovery of his alien heritage was a direct result of her torture, so if that hadn’t happened then perhaps his abilities were just undeveloped, his father’s silence on the subject merely a method of protection from whatever the actual Special Unit was called in this reality. His mom certainly hadn’t been a scientist at the time of her death, but who knew what she had done in the years since her untimely passing had not come to pass.
Suddenly eager to determine whether the Liz of his world had been correct, he grabbed his clothes and ran into the bathroom to dress. This may not be the future he had grown to know, but even the slightest hope that there was a Liz Parker waiting for him in Roswell, New Mexico was better than the thought of never once seeing her beautiful smile. There was even a chance the Emily and Sarah that were his daughters would still be born.
And maybe, just maybe, the dream of having his entire family alive and happy would become a blessed reality.
Still not the Dreamer kind of ending you expected? At least Max is alive, right?
:bad-words:
Not cutting it, huh? Well, let me get back to my keyboard and see what else I can come up with. See you tomorrow…
Ok, so technically it was a Diamondhead song before it was a Metallica song, but nobody can growl it out like ol’ Jimmy.
Anywhoooo, I guess you guys weren’t too happy with that epilogue, huh? :bad-words: I’ll admit that in a way it was a trick, so let’s try this again. Hope you like this one better…
Epilogue Part 2
March 8, 2000
“Max.”
“Max,” his dad’s voice called out to him as his shoulder was gently shaken. “Son.”
His eyes automatically squinted against the bright light streaming in between the closed panels of the motel room curtains. “Dad?” he asked in disbelief. “You’re….alive?”
“For now,” his father said wryly as he tried to wipe away some of the strain from his face. “Although neither one of us will be if we don’t get out of here soon. I certainly didn’t expect to sleep this long.”
“I don’t understand,” he asked in utter bewilderment, trying to keep calm despite the panic beginning to bubble up in his throat. “Where is here?”
“Missouri, I think,” his father said as he sat at the small table to peruse the map he had spread out there. “Or maybe Oklahoma. I’m not really sure since I was half-asleep for that last hour or so of driving. I guess the important thing is that we made it out of Michigan relatively unscathed.”
The panic began to worsen as he realized he truly had no idea what his father was talking about, although the routine of hiding out in a motel room was certainly nothing new. But what about Liz? Where was she, where were the kids, and why couldn’t he sense any of them?
“I definitely think it’s your turn to put the pedal to the metal,” his dad’s baritone voice snapped him back from his thoughts. “It’s a little out of the way, but if we take…” The directions were interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone. Reaching into his shirt pocket, his father pressed a button and eagerly answered. “Hello? Hi, sweetie. Yeah, he’s right here. Hang on.” Offering the device to him his dad said with a knowing smile, “Someone wants to talk to you.”
He let out a partial sigh of relief as he grabbed the phone, desperate to find out how he and his soulmate had become separated. “Liz? Where are you? What’s going on?” he pleaded.
“Liz, is it? Your father and I have been wondering why you’ve been acting so strange lately. It’s nice to know that your distraction has a name.”
He wanted to cry out in joy and frustration. The disappointment that the woman on the other end of the line was not his wife was overridden by the fact that the voice currently speaking to him was one he never thought he would hear again, “Mom?” he whispered in agony.
“I only have a minute between my meetings, honey, but I wanted to see how you and your father were holding up. I can’t wait to see you guys in a couple more days, and please be the voice of reason. If your father asks you to speed, don’t do it, or I’ll make sure you don’t get your license. Love you guys! Bye.”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned at it in disbelief. As he sat fully up in the bed he nearly gasped at the reflection staring back at him from the mirror across the room. “Something is wrong here,” he muttered as he stumbled to his feet to take a closer inspection of his features. “How old am I?”
“Well, technically you won’t be sixteen until next week, but there shouldn’t be a problem with you driving on your permit. I’ll be in the car with you the entire time.”
Sixteen next week? His heart dropped at his father’s words. Something was definitely wrong. He nearly threw up as he realized that if he truly were sixteen again that meant he and Liz weren’t even married, let alone the parents of two beautiful girls.
“C’mon, kiddo, I want to get a move on. Go toss your butt in the shower. We’ll have to stop somewhere along the way and get you a haircut because if I bring you to your mother looking like that she will have my hide.”
He pretended that he hadn’t heard his dad and requested that he repeat his statement. He nearly hyperventilated when his dad mentioned those two words again.
your mother
None of this was making any sense. It was as if he had been thrown into some alternate universe while being sent back through time. Whatever had happened to land him here was obviously some cruel cosmic joke. His parents had been returned to him, yet his wife and children had disappeared all in the same breath. He wanted to break down and cry until he realized that there was the slightest chance that he hadn’t completely lost them.
“Where is Liz?” he asked so quietly he wasn’t even sure he had spoken the words aloud.
“I’m sorry, son. What did you say?” his father inquired as he continued plotting their course on the map.
“Elizabeth Maxwe…” She wouldn’t be Liz Maxwell. She would be Liz Parker. “Elizabeth Parker? Do you know who she is?” he hesitantly questioned.
His father wrinkled his brow in thought as he commented, “Is she a new student at school? I don’t recognize the name. Principal Shanks is usually pretty good about letting me know about new students ahead of time so I can get a locker ready for them.”
His heart sank as he realized that his father didn’t know Liz. He couldn’t even be sure they lived in the same state. “You’re a janitor?” he warily asked, remembering the position his father held when they had lived in Chicago so many years earlier.
“Sorry to disappoint you, son,” his father chuckled. “Not everybody can be a scientist. You got your brains, your looks, and most of your other good qualities from your mother’s side of the family. You’d make me proud if you followed in her footsteps someday.”
“What footsteps would those be?” he questioned with even more reluctance. As far as he could remember his mother had been a librarian, and although he knew how much his parents loved and supported each other he doubted his father’s enthusiasm had anything to do with books or card catalogues.
“The entire purpose of this little road trip to Roswell, my dear boy,” his father scoffed. “The Special Unit!”
His eyes widened in horror as he turned to face his father. “You’re taking us to the Special Unit?”
His father finally tore his attention away from the map. Noticing the panic in his son’s expression the elder man voiced his concern. “Max, are you all right? You’re acting even more strange than usual this morning.”
“Do…do they know about her?” he stuttered out. “About where she is from?”
“Of course they do,” his father said nonchalantly. “That’s why they recruited her to head the Unit in the first place. It isn’t every day Antar’s top scientist agrees to run clinical trials in person.”
“How could you let her do this?” he angrily demanded. “How can you let her work with a bunch of murderers?”
His father rested the bridge of his nose against his thumb and index finger. “Max, would you please stop the dramatics and at least try to be happy for your mother? I know you don’t agree with animal testing, but you will not embarrass her in front of her new colleagues, especially since there is no other way to test the supplement.”
He suddenly got the feeling that he and his father were not talking about the same thing. There was no way the father he knew would take his mother’s involvement with the Special Unit so lightly. Apparently this world was very different from his, and he nervously wondered what other thing he would discover were ‘wrong’. He would have to be careful what he said until he knew for sure. “Why does she have to test the supplement on…animals?”
His dad gave him a scolding look and said matter-of-factly, “It’s a cat food supplement to stop them from producing hairballs. How else would they test it but to put it in the cat’s food?”
Crap! This was like living in the Twilight Zone. Last night he and Liz had waited until the girls were sound asleep before taking a nice relaxing bath together and then thoroughly ravishing each other. Now he was sixteen years old and sitting in a motel room with his deceased father. Everything he knew about his world had changed in the blink of an eye, and he had no idea why.
With a resigned sigh he asked, “So what exactly does the Special Unit do again?”
“They’re the branch of the government that tests drug related products created for non-human consumption,” his dad quoted as if reading from a brochure. “It’s been your mother’s dream to work there since before she and I even met, but you know all this already. We’ve talked about it a million times.”
“And Antar?” he questioned. “Have we talked about it, too?”
“Sure. Mom’s practically lived there for the past few years. It was a sacrifice, but the experience she gained in their chemicals division is finally paying off. Not only did she get into the Special Unit, but she’s heading it.” Frowning he asked, “Max, what is this all about? I get the feeling that you may be a little resentful of all these changes we’ve had to make.”
He didn’t quite know how to respond. It wasn’t as if he could come right out and say that he didn’t belong here, that in his world he was happily married and a proud father in his own right, that where he came from the man currently staring at him was no longer alive and that the Special Unit he knew of was the last place on Earth his mother would have wanted to work.
He sat down on the bed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he considered the differences between his two worlds and came to a sickening conclusion. Seeking confirmation he excused himself to shower, stepped into the bathroom, and rummaged through the bag of toiletries sitting on the counter, gasping with relief when he found a razor. Removing the protective cover and holding out his hand he pressed the blade against his middle finger until he felt a sharp sting, the red tinge that immediately colored his flesh indicating his attempt to cut himself had succeeded. Setting the razor down on the counter he wrapped one hand around the other and focused all his attention on the slick dampness seeping from the wound. There was no familiar tingling sensation, no slight glow, no miraculous mending of flesh.
There was nothing.
He immediately turned on the shower and climbed into the tub, praying that the sound of running water would block out the sobs that overcame him. As the cold water drenched his hair and rained down over his shaking form he didn’t want to believe this could really be happening, but there was no other explanation. The life he was living at the moment was the real one.
Refusing to even acknowledge the possibility that it was the truth he conjured up a kaleidoscope of images from that other world. The first time he laid eyes on Liz. How beautiful she looked in her burgundy sweater and faded jeans as she walked past his house, the afternoon sunlight turning her hair a thousand different shades of red and brown. The first touch of her fingers on his lips just moments before she unbuttoned his shirt. Their amazing dance in the gym of West Roswell High, and the wondrous lovemaking that took place there years later. Discovering that his baby was growing inside of her. Sending that baby off for her first day of kindergarten while holding onto her younger sister. One by one he tried to recall every moment of the twenty-six years he had lived in that other world, as if doing so would miraculously transport him back there, but when he opened his eyes he was still sitting in a motel room bathtub, his body chilled by the water even as his heart froze over with grief. He rested his weary head against his knees for several more minutes, almost hoping that he would be lucky enough to succumb to the slim chance of drowning, before he grasped the edges of the tub and pushed himself to standing. If he were stuck in this world he might as well make the best of it.
“I was about to send in the search and rescue team,” his father said with a mixture of teasing and mild irritation when he finally came out of the bathroom. Noticing the moroseness that had settled over his son the man added, “Max, I don’t expect you to tell me everything that’s going on with you, but please be honest: should I be worried?”
He couldn’t help the sarcastic chuckle that escaped his lips as he stuffed his wet boxers into the duffel bag next to the bed he had slept in. Retrieving clean clothes he laid them out before sitting down to face his father, making sure the towel wrapped around his waist covered all the right places. “Have you ever had a dream that was so real you could swear the things in it had actually taken place?”
Instead of answering him, his dad asked, “Is that what happened to you?”
“Yeah,” he said, refusing to hid the sadness wrought by his confession. “I dreamed that I was married to this beautiful girl…”
“…named Elizabeth Parker?” the elder man questioned.
“Elizabeth Maxwell,” he corrected, “and we had these two amazing daughters who looked just like their mother. Mom was originally from a planet named Antar, so I was half alien. Because of my special alien abilities Liz and I shared this incredible connection. We could talk to each other in our minds, but the best part was that I could feel her feelings, and I knew how much she loved me. She was everything I had ever wanted, had ever hoped to have, and I was so happy.”
His father looked down at his hands and bit his upper lip before remarking, “I’m not surprised that you’d have such a vivid and unusual dream. Our minds tend to play games with us when we haven’t had adequate rest, and with all the packing for the move neither one of us has been getting much sleep. I know this hasn’t been easy on you, having to leave your friends and starting a new school halfway through the year. Just a couple of more days and we’ll be settled into our new home. Who knows, maybe you’ll find a nice girl in Roswell to help you forget all about that imaginary Liz of yours.”
His father’s words made his throat clench until he remembered something Liz had once said.
I know in my heart we were destined to be together and, if anything, your mother’s murder interrupted the paths our lives should have taken for us to eventually meet.
Things in this world weren’t exactly as they had been before his mother was murdered, but those differences could be easily explained. His discovery of his alien heritage was a direct result of her torture, so if that hadn’t happened then perhaps his abilities were just undeveloped, his father’s silence on the subject merely a method of protection from whatever the actual Special Unit was called in this reality. His mom certainly hadn’t been a scientist at the time of her death, but who knew what she had done in the years since her untimely passing had not come to pass.
Suddenly eager to determine whether the Liz of his world had been correct, he grabbed his clothes and ran into the bathroom to dress. This may not be the future he had grown to know, but even the slightest hope that there was a Liz Parker waiting for him in Roswell, New Mexico was better than the thought of never once seeing her beautiful smile. There was even a chance the Emily and Sarah that were his daughters would still be born.
And maybe, just maybe, the dream of having his entire family alive and happy would become a blessed reality.
Still not the Dreamer kind of ending you expected? At least Max is alive, right?
:bad-words:
Not cutting it, huh? Well, let me get back to my keyboard and see what else I can come up with. See you tomorrow…
Last edited by SansuCry on Sat Mar 01, 2003 8:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
Tricks and Treats: Epilogue 3
Third time’s a charm, I hope.
Epilogue Part 3
October 31, 2010
She didn’t know why she was so groggy. It felt like she had been sleeping forever. As she reached up to wipe the sand from her eyes, she discovered her hand wouldn’t move. It might as well have been a piece of lead. Squinting to see in the subdued light she immediately realized that this was not her bed, and she was no longer in the house that she and Max had shared for the past six years. Her heart began to race as she struggled to make any kind of movement at all, something she quickly found to be a fruitless endeavor. She tried to scream her fear but all that came out of her parched, scratchy throat was a hoarse whimper.
For a few seconds the room flashed with a brilliant light as someone entered the door opposite her bed. By the time her eyes adjusted to the visual intrusion the person, a man dressed in a white lab coat, was beside her, the space around them once again shrouded in an eerie dusk. The clipboard he was perusing blocked his face from her view, and she wondered whether he even knew she was awake.
With all the effort she could muster she concentrated on reaching her hand out to touch his as she whispered, “Where am I?”
The man jumped back as if he had just been burned, and as the clipboard lowered to reveal his face she was certain his shocked expression mirrored her own.
“Max?”
“You…you know me?” he stuttered as if he were speaking to a ghost.
“Of course I do,” she scoffed through her discomfort. “Max, what is going on? Why can’t I move?”
A look of pure horror crossed his face before the clipboard slipped from his hands, the resounding crash as it hit the floor piercing her ears like a knife. She instinctively flinched against the pain, and within that brief moment Max had disappeared out the door.
A million thoughts swarmed inside her mind, a newfound sense of urgency demanding she fight the heaviness that confined her to the bed as she tried to form a coherent explanation for what had just happened. Had she been in some kind of accident? Why had Max acted surprised that she knew him? If he was here with her, who was taking care of Emily and Sarah?
When she heard footsteps growing louder as they pounded down the hallway and toward her room she had enough forethought to close her eyes against the bright light that had temporarily blinded her before.
“Don’t contact her parents yet,” she heard the muffled command as the door began to squeak open. “I want to be sure this isn’t just some pre-death aberration.” A few seconds later the owner of that voice was in the room with her. “Miss Parker?” a male who was definitely not Max called out. “Miss Parker, are you awake?”
She opened her eyes to see the new man, dressed in the same type of white lab coat Max wore, standing at the foot of the bed. He stared at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity, while Max with his paled face still looked like he had seen an apparition. “Where am I?” she asked again, anxiously hoping that the question would be answered this time.
“Miss Parker, my name is Dr. Pierce, and this is my colleague, Dr. Evans. You are at Roswell Memorial Hospital.”
“Dr. Evans?” she questioned, her voice sounding more normal as each word grew more preposterous. ‘Max, you’re not a doctor,’ she silently added. ‘Am I hurt? Are you pretending to be a doctor so you can get me out of here?’
“Miss Parker, Dr. Evans said that you recognized him?”
When Max’s voice didn’t echo a mute response to her inquiry she finally said aloud, “Yes. Max is my husband.”
“Husband?” Max choked out in utter surprise.
Dr. Pierce put a silencing hand on Max’s arm before addressing her. “Miss Parker, I don’t want to alarm you, but you need to understand that you have been here at the hospital for quite a while now. That is why you are having difficulty talking and moving. Your body will need time to adjust.”
“What?” she asked in horror. “Why? What happened to me?” Turning to address Max, she asked, “Where are the kids?”
“Miss Parker,” Dr. Pierce interrupted. “I assure you everything will be all right. I know you have a lot of questions, but I think it would be best if we wait for your parents to arrive.”
“Why?” she questioned. “So they can see that I’m not some pre-death aberration? What exactly the hell does that mean, anyway?”
The two men exchanged awkward glances before coming to some unspoken agreement. Dr. Pierce took a deep breath and narrated, “Miss Parker, when you were seven years old you were brought to Roswell Memorial with a case of Meningitis that was severe enough to put you into a coma.”
“I’m well aware of that,” she snapped in irritation, “but what does that have to do with why I’m here now?”
“Miss Parker…Elizabeth…you never left the hospital. You have spent the last nineteen years here in a coma.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she retorted, her attempt to raise her voice falling short. “I recovered from that coma within a week’s time.”
“I know this must be difficult for you to hear, Miss Parker, but you have had no recordable brainwave activity for the past two years, and your parents finally consented to having your life support removed just this past week. We took you off of the ventilator this morning, about four hours ago, but you continued to breathe on your own. Miss Parker, do you understand what I am telling you?”
Obviously Dr. Pierce wasn’t going to listen to her. “Max,” she pleaded. “What is really going on here? Why are you doing this to me? I’m your wife.”
Max looked away uncomfortably as he said, “I’m sorry, Miss Parker. I am married, but my wife’s name is Tess.”
“No,” she cried, shaking her head. “No, it’s not true. You’re lying. We were married on Halloween Day of 2004, we had Emily the next year, and Sarah three years later.”
His body tensed as his eyes shot back to her face. “How do you know the names of my children?” he queried in a trembling voice.
“Because they’re my children, too,” she venomously screamed out as the rush of adrenaline Max’s denial was causing spurred her to sit up in the bed. “We live in Stanford, California in the same house you lived in with your father after leaving Roswell….”
Dr. Pierce was immediately by her side, his hand on her shoulder an insistent gesture that she lay back down as he tried to appease her by saying, “Miss Parker, Dr. Evans has been working on your case for over a year now. It isn’t unusual for persons in a comatose state to pick up on things that are said in their presence. More than likely Dr. Evans mentioned his children to one of the nurses or in his discussions with your parents and you merely incorporated it into your perceived reality.”
The elder doctor’s interference only angering her more, she shrugged off his hand and fought to stay upright. “Max, look at me. Ramala. Antar. Does any of that ring a bell? I know who you are. I know what you are…”
His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher until he suddenly said, “Dr. Pierce, becoming this agitated certainly can’t be good for Miss Parker, can it? Perhaps we should administer some type of sedative, just until she has had some time to settle down.”
“NO!” she yelled, “I won’t let you drug me! You can’t do this without my consent! Max, this is Pierce! He was one of the bastards responsible for killing your mother! How can you even let him near me?”
“I’m afraid Dr. Evans is right,” Dr. Pierce concurred as he tightly wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “This isn’t good for your health. I think it will be best to give you a light sedative until your parents get here. They can explain everything to you. Perhaps all this will be easier to accept if you hear it from them.”
She struggled against the doctor’s confining grip but with the adrenaline spike quickly fading from her body she was suddenly weak again. Max stepped up to the opposite side of the bed and stuck a needle into her other arm, the burning warmth that suffused her flesh telling her that she would be out in a matter of seconds. All she had time to do was stare at Max with all the betrayal and heartache she felt and whisper, “Why?” Her eyes glazed over as the two men returned her to a prone position, and when they headed for the door she barely heard the last few lines of their conversation.
“Antar?” Dr. Pierce curiously questioned. “and Ramala? Do you know what she was talking about?”
Max gave a light chuckle. “I have no idea.”
Ok, I think we backtracked there a little bit, didn’t we?
I have to admit that the ideas for these parts of the epilogue came directly from the wonderful feedback that I’ve received since beginning this story in October. There were so many great guesses along the way about how this story would end that I just had to find a way to incorporate some of them into the fic, so if you’re not enjoying the ride blame your fellow posters.
Now we all know that two wrongs don’t make a right, but I promise that three tricks will make for an interesting treat.
I will post the next and final part of the epilogue tomorrow.
Epilogue Part 3
October 31, 2010
She didn’t know why she was so groggy. It felt like she had been sleeping forever. As she reached up to wipe the sand from her eyes, she discovered her hand wouldn’t move. It might as well have been a piece of lead. Squinting to see in the subdued light she immediately realized that this was not her bed, and she was no longer in the house that she and Max had shared for the past six years. Her heart began to race as she struggled to make any kind of movement at all, something she quickly found to be a fruitless endeavor. She tried to scream her fear but all that came out of her parched, scratchy throat was a hoarse whimper.
For a few seconds the room flashed with a brilliant light as someone entered the door opposite her bed. By the time her eyes adjusted to the visual intrusion the person, a man dressed in a white lab coat, was beside her, the space around them once again shrouded in an eerie dusk. The clipboard he was perusing blocked his face from her view, and she wondered whether he even knew she was awake.
With all the effort she could muster she concentrated on reaching her hand out to touch his as she whispered, “Where am I?”
The man jumped back as if he had just been burned, and as the clipboard lowered to reveal his face she was certain his shocked expression mirrored her own.
“Max?”
“You…you know me?” he stuttered as if he were speaking to a ghost.
“Of course I do,” she scoffed through her discomfort. “Max, what is going on? Why can’t I move?”
A look of pure horror crossed his face before the clipboard slipped from his hands, the resounding crash as it hit the floor piercing her ears like a knife. She instinctively flinched against the pain, and within that brief moment Max had disappeared out the door.
A million thoughts swarmed inside her mind, a newfound sense of urgency demanding she fight the heaviness that confined her to the bed as she tried to form a coherent explanation for what had just happened. Had she been in some kind of accident? Why had Max acted surprised that she knew him? If he was here with her, who was taking care of Emily and Sarah?
When she heard footsteps growing louder as they pounded down the hallway and toward her room she had enough forethought to close her eyes against the bright light that had temporarily blinded her before.
“Don’t contact her parents yet,” she heard the muffled command as the door began to squeak open. “I want to be sure this isn’t just some pre-death aberration.” A few seconds later the owner of that voice was in the room with her. “Miss Parker?” a male who was definitely not Max called out. “Miss Parker, are you awake?”
She opened her eyes to see the new man, dressed in the same type of white lab coat Max wore, standing at the foot of the bed. He stared at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity, while Max with his paled face still looked like he had seen an apparition. “Where am I?” she asked again, anxiously hoping that the question would be answered this time.
“Miss Parker, my name is Dr. Pierce, and this is my colleague, Dr. Evans. You are at Roswell Memorial Hospital.”
“Dr. Evans?” she questioned, her voice sounding more normal as each word grew more preposterous. ‘Max, you’re not a doctor,’ she silently added. ‘Am I hurt? Are you pretending to be a doctor so you can get me out of here?’
“Miss Parker, Dr. Evans said that you recognized him?”
When Max’s voice didn’t echo a mute response to her inquiry she finally said aloud, “Yes. Max is my husband.”
“Husband?” Max choked out in utter surprise.
Dr. Pierce put a silencing hand on Max’s arm before addressing her. “Miss Parker, I don’t want to alarm you, but you need to understand that you have been here at the hospital for quite a while now. That is why you are having difficulty talking and moving. Your body will need time to adjust.”
“What?” she asked in horror. “Why? What happened to me?” Turning to address Max, she asked, “Where are the kids?”
“Miss Parker,” Dr. Pierce interrupted. “I assure you everything will be all right. I know you have a lot of questions, but I think it would be best if we wait for your parents to arrive.”
“Why?” she questioned. “So they can see that I’m not some pre-death aberration? What exactly the hell does that mean, anyway?”
The two men exchanged awkward glances before coming to some unspoken agreement. Dr. Pierce took a deep breath and narrated, “Miss Parker, when you were seven years old you were brought to Roswell Memorial with a case of Meningitis that was severe enough to put you into a coma.”
“I’m well aware of that,” she snapped in irritation, “but what does that have to do with why I’m here now?”
“Miss Parker…Elizabeth…you never left the hospital. You have spent the last nineteen years here in a coma.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she retorted, her attempt to raise her voice falling short. “I recovered from that coma within a week’s time.”
“I know this must be difficult for you to hear, Miss Parker, but you have had no recordable brainwave activity for the past two years, and your parents finally consented to having your life support removed just this past week. We took you off of the ventilator this morning, about four hours ago, but you continued to breathe on your own. Miss Parker, do you understand what I am telling you?”
Obviously Dr. Pierce wasn’t going to listen to her. “Max,” she pleaded. “What is really going on here? Why are you doing this to me? I’m your wife.”
Max looked away uncomfortably as he said, “I’m sorry, Miss Parker. I am married, but my wife’s name is Tess.”
“No,” she cried, shaking her head. “No, it’s not true. You’re lying. We were married on Halloween Day of 2004, we had Emily the next year, and Sarah three years later.”
His body tensed as his eyes shot back to her face. “How do you know the names of my children?” he queried in a trembling voice.
“Because they’re my children, too,” she venomously screamed out as the rush of adrenaline Max’s denial was causing spurred her to sit up in the bed. “We live in Stanford, California in the same house you lived in with your father after leaving Roswell….”
Dr. Pierce was immediately by her side, his hand on her shoulder an insistent gesture that she lay back down as he tried to appease her by saying, “Miss Parker, Dr. Evans has been working on your case for over a year now. It isn’t unusual for persons in a comatose state to pick up on things that are said in their presence. More than likely Dr. Evans mentioned his children to one of the nurses or in his discussions with your parents and you merely incorporated it into your perceived reality.”
The elder doctor’s interference only angering her more, she shrugged off his hand and fought to stay upright. “Max, look at me. Ramala. Antar. Does any of that ring a bell? I know who you are. I know what you are…”
His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher until he suddenly said, “Dr. Pierce, becoming this agitated certainly can’t be good for Miss Parker, can it? Perhaps we should administer some type of sedative, just until she has had some time to settle down.”
“NO!” she yelled, “I won’t let you drug me! You can’t do this without my consent! Max, this is Pierce! He was one of the bastards responsible for killing your mother! How can you even let him near me?”
“I’m afraid Dr. Evans is right,” Dr. Pierce concurred as he tightly wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “This isn’t good for your health. I think it will be best to give you a light sedative until your parents get here. They can explain everything to you. Perhaps all this will be easier to accept if you hear it from them.”
She struggled against the doctor’s confining grip but with the adrenaline spike quickly fading from her body she was suddenly weak again. Max stepped up to the opposite side of the bed and stuck a needle into her other arm, the burning warmth that suffused her flesh telling her that she would be out in a matter of seconds. All she had time to do was stare at Max with all the betrayal and heartache she felt and whisper, “Why?” Her eyes glazed over as the two men returned her to a prone position, and when they headed for the door she barely heard the last few lines of their conversation.
“Antar?” Dr. Pierce curiously questioned. “and Ramala? Do you know what she was talking about?”
Max gave a light chuckle. “I have no idea.”
Ok, I think we backtracked there a little bit, didn’t we?
I have to admit that the ideas for these parts of the epilogue came directly from the wonderful feedback that I’ve received since beginning this story in October. There were so many great guesses along the way about how this story would end that I just had to find a way to incorporate some of them into the fic, so if you’re not enjoying the ride blame your fellow posters.
Now we all know that two wrongs don’t make a right, but I promise that three tricks will make for an interesting treat.
I will post the next and final part of the epilogue tomorrow.
Last edited by SansuCry on Sat Mar 01, 2003 8:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
Tricks and Treats: Epilogue Part 4
Epilogue Part 4
October 30, 2126
“Would you guys stop coming up with fake endings,” she demanded in an irritated tone, “especially if they’re going to be such cruel ones. Philip Evans a murderer? Nineteen years in a coma? Really, guys, can’t you find something better to do than make fun of me?”
“What else is there to do around here?” Rama protested. “Besides a coma that long could have happened. The longest recorded case of coma was twenty-five years, although there are unconfirmed reports of ones that lasted even longer. We didn’t always have Grosham Synaptic Chambers, you know.”
“Listen to you, Miss Science Geek,” Nan teased. “You’re starting to sound more and more like Leelee over there. Pretty soon you’ll be spouting all that soulmate connection crap just like her, too.”
Emily couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the banter, the otherwise snide comments softened by the playful tone in which they were offered. She understood how Rama and Nan would be bored while staying here in Roswell. Her distant cousins could never have the same appreciation as she for the rich heritage that surrounded them because their families had lost so much of their Antarian genetics over the past century that they often refused to believe the planet had ever really existed. It saddened her that they denied any part of themselves, no matter how minuscule that part may have become, but she knew that is how it was meant to be. That fact alone made her even more grateful that her own branch of the unique family tree begun by Hal Carver and Betty Ramala Meyers over fourteen decades earlier had remained a relatively strong mixture of human and Antarian blood.
She had known from the time she was a young girl that her family was different, even from the others sired by the descendants of the couple affectionately known as Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie. However, it had only been within the past few months, when she had begun her final year of high school, that she had started to recognize the true significance of the fairy tale told to her as a girl. With each Halloween that marked her growth from child to woman, that fairy tale had slowly been fleshed out until the simple story of an orphaned prince and his soulmate had become the complicated, emotional saga of the extraordinary family created by a mother’s undying devotion to her son.
Knowing that she was the only one of the three not-so-young girls lazily spinning on the merry-go-round who would ever have the chance to communicate with that dedicated woman made her very protective of the sacred history that had been entrusted to her. Of course even at her age she was quite aware of the duty that came with inheriting the distinctive genetic combination of nearly evenly matched Antarian and human traits. Tomorrow would be her eighteenth birthday, and she would finally be allowed into the Joining that her mother and grandmother had spent years covertly preparing her for, a blessed event that she herself would someday share with her own daughter and granddaughter.
“C’mon, guys,” she quietly commanded. “You know there are some things that are off limits. If you don’t know the real ending, then I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to tell the story at all.”
“Right, Leelee, like you know for sure what the real ending is,” Nan said sarcastically, “or the beginning and middle, for that matter. Fact is, there is no evidence of the Special Unit being anything but a rogue branch of the Old-System Federal Government who foolishly believed they could rid the United States of illegal drugs. And no one has ever been able to find a birth certificate for a Maxwell Sorrensen or a Maxwell Evans. The records plainly show that Elizabeth Parker married a guy she met at Stanford, Robert Maxwell, who was born in Atlanta, Georgia on March 15th, 1984.”
Emily couldn’t dispute Nan’s assertions. Michael Guerin’s family and friends had done a very thorough job of assuring Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie’s safety, and with no living eyewitnesses to the events of so long ago it would be impossible to prove many parts of their family’s exceptional history.
“Cut her some slack, Nan. If the story is that important to Emily then we should quit messing around with it. Besides, real or not,” Rama volunteered, “I love the way you tell it, Leelee. I want to hear how you think it should end. Please?”
Emily could hardly say no to her eager cousin, especially since this may very well be the last time they would all be together. For the other two, adjusting to college life would be much more important next year than an extended family reunion in Roswell, New Mexico. This may be her final opportunity to impart the truth to them. She could only hope that they would believe it enough to remember it well into their adult years, so that perhaps it would be passed on to their own children someday. “Ok, you convinced me,” she said with mock exasperation, “that is, unless Nan objects.”
“Far be it for me to interfere with Rama’s entertainment,” Nan acquiesced a little too quickly. “Go ahead. I’ll just sit here and wait.”
Her façade didn’t fool Emily a bit. The slightest undertone of curiosity in her voice indicated that she was just as interested in hearing the rest of the story as Rama was. Wasting no time, Emily began.
A cool December morning a little more than three years after Emily was born Sarah joined the family in their small home near Stanford, where Liz was slowly working toward her degree. Having been given the same liberal doses of ‘happiness’ as her sister, Sarah turned out to be as contented a baby as Emily had been, and although it was obvious by looking at the two that they were sisters the younger one’s disposition was of a much meeker nature. Even from infancy she was quite satisfied to stand in the shadows while Emily grabbed the limelight, a trait that continued throughout their adult lives.
Things were relatively uneventful for the four Maxwells until the Easter after Emily’s seventh birthday, when she inconveniently demonstrated her newfound Antarian abilities in front of Liz’s parents. Max and Liz’s revelation to the Parkers that their son-in-law was not completely human was met with awed disbelief until Max provided several other examples of his powers. Once Jeff and Nancy learned of the suffering endured by Max’s family and realized his mother’s actual connection to Liz they made the radical decision to sell the Crashdown, uncomfortable with the knowledge that they had inadvertently been profiting from the tragic deaths of their grandchildren’s paternal relatives.
The girls were thrilled when late that summer the Parkers moved a mere half hour away to the outskirts of San Jose, while Liz and Max were glad to have the extra hands and emotional support that a growing family can never seem to get enough of. On more than one occasion Jeff and Nancy complimented the young couple on the obvious strength of their relationship. The stunning glimpses they had caught of their daughter’s unique bond with her alien husband during too-brief weekend visits and vacation stays that were not much longer simply could not compare to experiencing their day-to-day interactions. With each sunrise the couple began a dance of life that turned even the most mundane tasks into superbly choreographed demonstrations of love and devotion, the beauty of their exceptional mixture of silent and verbal communication accenting each adoring gaze and worshipping touch they shared. They truly were a sight to behold, and the Parkers took every opportunity offered to do just that.
During one of the traditional family dinners served each Sunday in the Maxwell home, Max told Jeff and Nancy he was grateful that his daughters had at least one set of living grandparents and voiced his regret that his own parents would never get to meet the beautiful girls he had helped create. When ten-year-old Emily casually mentioned that she knew her Grandma Ramala and had talked to her often over the past year or so, the entire table had grown silent. Neither Max or Liz wanted to doubt their eldest daughter, but they thoroughly questioned her just to be sure the conversations she believed to be having with her grandmother weren’t merely her own imaginings run wild. When Emily was able to give specific details about things she should have no knowledge of the couple realized that the girl really could communicate with Max’s mother.
That Halloween young Emily took it upon herself to begin what would come to be known as the Joining. Wound up after an evening of consuming way too much candy, she had finagled an invitation to settle down in Max and Liz’s bed for some quiet time, but when her parents tried to leave the room she explained that Grandma Ramala wanted them to stay. They climbed under the covers with her, Liz holding her firstborn and Max holding his wife, and when they closed their eyes to drift off to sleep they were transported to Paradise.
Max openly wept in his mother’s arms as she held him for the first time in twenty-four years, his daughter looking on with the pride of knowing that she had made the reunion possible. Coming face to face with the woman who had brought Max into her life was no less emotional for Liz, and she whispered a hundred thank yous to the raven-haired matriarch for giving her the miracle that was her husband. Much too soon Emily announced it was time to return to the land of the living, and when the trio awoke a new day was dawning.
The Joining, Max and Liz were soon told by their recently expert daughter, would only be possible once a year, on the night when souls were free to roam the Earth in search of their loved ones. The Maxwells spent each Halloween night after that performing the distinctive family ritual, waiting until the Halloween just before Sarah’s tenth birthday before allowing her to participate with them. Liz had been upset when the younger girl showed hardly any interest in meeting her maternal grandmother until Ramala assured her that Sarah was filled with just as much love and devotion to her family, yet she would have her own path to follow to find her lifetime of happy endings. Sarah would never participate in the Joining again, and she would be an adult before Liz would discover what Ramala’s vague prophecy that day had meant.
Being older Emily was the first to leave home to attend college, but she always returned for the Joining, even if it meant missing a few of her classes. When she returned to Stanford during her final year of school at Northwestern she brought a young man with her, a boy by the name of Nicholas Whittaker who happened to be pure-blooded Antarian. He had already asked Emily to marry him, but she refused to give him an answer until she had her Grandma Ramala’s approval. When the young man was pulled into the Joining that Halloween night Max’s mother greeted him as though he were already a member of the family. The wedding took place the following spring.
Emily’s first Joining as a married woman brought hope to Liz that she would be able to see her parents once again, both of whom had passed away over the period between Emily’s wedding and that Halloween. It was not meant to be, however, and Liz was left instead with a pointed reminder from Ramala regarding Sarah’s welfare. The Maxwell daughter’s life would take a much different path than the one Liz had anticipated for her, but in the end Sarah would have what both her parents and grandmother wanted for the young woman: safety and happiness. Without that warning both Liz and Max would have been outraged when Sarah came home the following spring break with husband in tow, the blow of the news that she and her high school sweetheart had eloped in Las Vegas tempered by the confirmation from Max’s mother that this was the way things were supposed to be. Mark was well aware of the otherworldly lineage of Sarah’s family despite being completely human himself, yet he followed his wife’s wishes when it came to ignoring her alien side. Whereas Emily had committed herself to a full-blooded Antarian and shared a connection with him that rivaled the one her parents had formed, Sarah had intentionally created a block that permanently ensured she and her husband would never once experience each other’s thoughts or emotions firsthand. She was determined that her husband and children would never suffer because of her.
Even with the drastic difference in their attitudes toward being part alien the two sisters remained close, and ten months later when Sarah gave birth to a beautiful little girl no one was surprised that she named the child Emily. A second daughter, Nancy, came into the world just weeks before the elder Emily continued the tradition of giving birth on Halloween by delivering her own baby girl and naming the child after her Grandma Ramala. Sarah went on to have a third daughter, whom she named Elizabeth after her mother, but Emily’s attempts for any more children failed, and despite her closeness to her cousins ‘Rama’ remained an only child.
By the time this second generation of Maxwells was old enough to participate in the Joining Sarah, Mark and their three daughters had moved across the country to Virginia. Emmy, Nan, and Beth were never given the opportunity to accompany Max, Liz, Emily, Nicholas and Rama on the annual journey to meet with the family matriarch in that other plane of existence, although it was doubtful they would have done so even if they had had the choice. To them Halloween would never be anything more than a day to dress up and get lots of candy.
As Rama grew into adulthood her spiritual strength increased as well, and on her eighteenth birthday the others in their small group were pleasantly surprised to see Max’s father standing alongside his wife. Their joyous family reunions had become even more special, and the ease with which Rama brought her living and deceased family members together confirmed that the unique gift of the Joining had been passed on from mother to daughter.
Whether by coincidence or design Sarah’s daughters continued their mother’s tradition of marrying men who were completely human. Their children, both male and female, all were born with mostly human blood, and within two generations the threat that any of their offspring would ever be considered ‘aliens’ ceased to exist. If by some frightening miracle the Special Unit was ever resurrected in its original form half of Max and Liz’s family tree would be safe from detection.
Rama did not come by marriage as easily as her cousins had, although her first serious relationship had seemed most promising. He had appeared to be everything she could have hoped for in a husband, including being one hundred percent Antarian, until their first Christmas together when she brought him home to Max and Liz’s small house to meet her extended family. Claiming to be a purist he refused to dine with her relatives, cursing her Aunt Sarah and cousins for intentionally diluting their Antarian bloodline by mixing with full-blooded humans. Rama had thrown him out of the house, anger and heartbreak consuming her for months afterwards. She refused to date for over two years, but during the Joining on her twenty-fourth birthday her namesake informed her it was time to seek out her destiny. A few short weeks later she met Brody Davis, the man she would marry, although her lingering caution when it came to Antarian men delayed the exchanging of their vows for nearly three years. Claudia, who would be their only child, was born two Halloweens after that.
Rama and Brody made a conscious decision to keep Claudia’s childhood as normal as possible, knowing that the girl would need to live up to the responsibility of carrying on the family legacy soon enough. Rama herself had not come into her prime until she had reached adult age, so there was no need to push their young daughter to be anything more than the little girl she was. Details of Max and Liz’s life were relayed to Claudia in the form of a fairy tale, which grew more elaborate as she matured and could understand its significance, until she turned eighteen and was allowed to choose whether she wanted to become part of the Joining. Rama had no doubts that her daughter would want to assume the role of communicator and historian, and sure enough Claudia had been eager to meet the great, great grandparents responsible for her very existence.
By the time Claudia was ready to marry and have her own child, the pattern those events would follow had been firmly set. She met her Antarian husband while participating in a study abroad program and had quickly informed him that marriage to her would mean raising only one child, a girl. He had been more than happy to accept those conditions, and within a year the couple was married and expecting. Too young to fight three generations of tradition, Elizabeth Ramala came into the world on a Halloween night.
Liz was raised in the same guiding manner as her mother, her destiny offered to her as a choice rather than a duty, and it came as no surprise that she willingly accepted the responsibilities that came with being the offspring of her Great Grandma Emily. She flew in the face of convention, however, and became involved with a man who was only one quarter Antarian, but only after receiving assurances from Ramala herself that it was an acceptable thing to do. Three years into their marriage the next keeper of the Maxwell family legacy was born.
“So then that brings us to you, right, since Liz is your mom?” Rama questioned.
“That’s right,” Emily confirmed.
“Yeah, but how do we know any of that is really true?” Nan asked, although she wasn’t nearly as skeptical as she had been before Emily relayed the rest of the story. “None of this is written down anywhere, so maybe things got twisted around like they do when you play telephone. Our great, great, great grandparents were probably just normal people who made up this interesting story of how they met because the real one was boring.”
With a swipe of her hand Emily could have easily given her cousin the proof she wanted, but she instinctively knew that the course Sarah Maxwell had chosen all those years ago forbade her from doing so. Instead she just smiled, secure in the knowledge that the real story would not be forgotten as long as she was around.
“I want to know about Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie,” Rama commented. “If they really did have this intense soulmate connection, what happened when one of them died?”
Emily’s smile turned wistful as she explained, “They were both ninety-eight the Halloween before my mom was born. They fell asleep for the Joining and met up with everyone as usual, but when the time came to leave they told the others that they would not be going back. My Grandma woke up to discover that they had both died in their sleep, in the same bed that held the memories of their wedding night, the births of their two daughters and all the other wonderful nights of their married life.”
“That’s so sad,” Rama sniffed.
“Not really,” Emily countered. “They lived a long, full life on Earth, and when they passed away they went together. What could be better than that?”
“You’re lucky,” Nan quietly commented. “You don’t seem like you’re afraid to die.”
“Because I know that when I do, I’ll have people waiting for me on the other side.”
“I guess that’s one good thing about being Antarian,” the usually cocky girl observed, her tone not holding the usual derisiveness that automatically came with discussing a subject her parents had always insisted was nothing more than an overly imaginative fabrication.
Emily wanted so desperately to tell Nan that she had nothing to fear, that the reunion of deceased souls had nothing to do with how much Antarian blood ran through a person’s veins. Her mother’s own Halloween night conversations with the Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie she never had the chance to meet in this world had revealed that the deceased were always welcomed by loved ones that had gone before them, even those whose souls weren’t Antarian enough to be seen in the Joining. Grandma Lizzie had been thrilled to be reunited with her parents and Grandma Claudia once again, and Emily knew that when Nan’s time came she would have a similar experience. Hoping to offer some comfort she simply said, “I’m sure you won’t have to worry about dying for a very long time, Nan.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with her display of emotion Nan threw the sarcasm back in her voice to quip, “So what about Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie’s fairy tale ending? You can’t say they lived happily ever after if they’re dead.”
“You’re right,” Emily agreed. “It would be wrong to say that.”
“Why?” Rama asked sadly.
“Their bodies may no longer exist, but their souls will live on forever.”
“So?” Nan asked skeptically.
“So the accurate thing to say is:
They lived happily, eternally ever after.”
THE END
Thank you all so much for leaving every bit of wonderful feedback and being good sports during the epilogue. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I’ve loved writing it. This Max and Liz have to be my second favorite ones, and I’m really going to miss them. Twelve Days is up next to be finished, hopefully by the weekend.
Sansu
October 30, 2126
“Would you guys stop coming up with fake endings,” she demanded in an irritated tone, “especially if they’re going to be such cruel ones. Philip Evans a murderer? Nineteen years in a coma? Really, guys, can’t you find something better to do than make fun of me?”
“What else is there to do around here?” Rama protested. “Besides a coma that long could have happened. The longest recorded case of coma was twenty-five years, although there are unconfirmed reports of ones that lasted even longer. We didn’t always have Grosham Synaptic Chambers, you know.”
“Listen to you, Miss Science Geek,” Nan teased. “You’re starting to sound more and more like Leelee over there. Pretty soon you’ll be spouting all that soulmate connection crap just like her, too.”
Emily couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the banter, the otherwise snide comments softened by the playful tone in which they were offered. She understood how Rama and Nan would be bored while staying here in Roswell. Her distant cousins could never have the same appreciation as she for the rich heritage that surrounded them because their families had lost so much of their Antarian genetics over the past century that they often refused to believe the planet had ever really existed. It saddened her that they denied any part of themselves, no matter how minuscule that part may have become, but she knew that is how it was meant to be. That fact alone made her even more grateful that her own branch of the unique family tree begun by Hal Carver and Betty Ramala Meyers over fourteen decades earlier had remained a relatively strong mixture of human and Antarian blood.
She had known from the time she was a young girl that her family was different, even from the others sired by the descendants of the couple affectionately known as Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie. However, it had only been within the past few months, when she had begun her final year of high school, that she had started to recognize the true significance of the fairy tale told to her as a girl. With each Halloween that marked her growth from child to woman, that fairy tale had slowly been fleshed out until the simple story of an orphaned prince and his soulmate had become the complicated, emotional saga of the extraordinary family created by a mother’s undying devotion to her son.
Knowing that she was the only one of the three not-so-young girls lazily spinning on the merry-go-round who would ever have the chance to communicate with that dedicated woman made her very protective of the sacred history that had been entrusted to her. Of course even at her age she was quite aware of the duty that came with inheriting the distinctive genetic combination of nearly evenly matched Antarian and human traits. Tomorrow would be her eighteenth birthday, and she would finally be allowed into the Joining that her mother and grandmother had spent years covertly preparing her for, a blessed event that she herself would someday share with her own daughter and granddaughter.
“C’mon, guys,” she quietly commanded. “You know there are some things that are off limits. If you don’t know the real ending, then I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to tell the story at all.”
“Right, Leelee, like you know for sure what the real ending is,” Nan said sarcastically, “or the beginning and middle, for that matter. Fact is, there is no evidence of the Special Unit being anything but a rogue branch of the Old-System Federal Government who foolishly believed they could rid the United States of illegal drugs. And no one has ever been able to find a birth certificate for a Maxwell Sorrensen or a Maxwell Evans. The records plainly show that Elizabeth Parker married a guy she met at Stanford, Robert Maxwell, who was born in Atlanta, Georgia on March 15th, 1984.”
Emily couldn’t dispute Nan’s assertions. Michael Guerin’s family and friends had done a very thorough job of assuring Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie’s safety, and with no living eyewitnesses to the events of so long ago it would be impossible to prove many parts of their family’s exceptional history.
“Cut her some slack, Nan. If the story is that important to Emily then we should quit messing around with it. Besides, real or not,” Rama volunteered, “I love the way you tell it, Leelee. I want to hear how you think it should end. Please?”
Emily could hardly say no to her eager cousin, especially since this may very well be the last time they would all be together. For the other two, adjusting to college life would be much more important next year than an extended family reunion in Roswell, New Mexico. This may be her final opportunity to impart the truth to them. She could only hope that they would believe it enough to remember it well into their adult years, so that perhaps it would be passed on to their own children someday. “Ok, you convinced me,” she said with mock exasperation, “that is, unless Nan objects.”
“Far be it for me to interfere with Rama’s entertainment,” Nan acquiesced a little too quickly. “Go ahead. I’ll just sit here and wait.”
Her façade didn’t fool Emily a bit. The slightest undertone of curiosity in her voice indicated that she was just as interested in hearing the rest of the story as Rama was. Wasting no time, Emily began.
A cool December morning a little more than three years after Emily was born Sarah joined the family in their small home near Stanford, where Liz was slowly working toward her degree. Having been given the same liberal doses of ‘happiness’ as her sister, Sarah turned out to be as contented a baby as Emily had been, and although it was obvious by looking at the two that they were sisters the younger one’s disposition was of a much meeker nature. Even from infancy she was quite satisfied to stand in the shadows while Emily grabbed the limelight, a trait that continued throughout their adult lives.
Things were relatively uneventful for the four Maxwells until the Easter after Emily’s seventh birthday, when she inconveniently demonstrated her newfound Antarian abilities in front of Liz’s parents. Max and Liz’s revelation to the Parkers that their son-in-law was not completely human was met with awed disbelief until Max provided several other examples of his powers. Once Jeff and Nancy learned of the suffering endured by Max’s family and realized his mother’s actual connection to Liz they made the radical decision to sell the Crashdown, uncomfortable with the knowledge that they had inadvertently been profiting from the tragic deaths of their grandchildren’s paternal relatives.
The girls were thrilled when late that summer the Parkers moved a mere half hour away to the outskirts of San Jose, while Liz and Max were glad to have the extra hands and emotional support that a growing family can never seem to get enough of. On more than one occasion Jeff and Nancy complimented the young couple on the obvious strength of their relationship. The stunning glimpses they had caught of their daughter’s unique bond with her alien husband during too-brief weekend visits and vacation stays that were not much longer simply could not compare to experiencing their day-to-day interactions. With each sunrise the couple began a dance of life that turned even the most mundane tasks into superbly choreographed demonstrations of love and devotion, the beauty of their exceptional mixture of silent and verbal communication accenting each adoring gaze and worshipping touch they shared. They truly were a sight to behold, and the Parkers took every opportunity offered to do just that.
During one of the traditional family dinners served each Sunday in the Maxwell home, Max told Jeff and Nancy he was grateful that his daughters had at least one set of living grandparents and voiced his regret that his own parents would never get to meet the beautiful girls he had helped create. When ten-year-old Emily casually mentioned that she knew her Grandma Ramala and had talked to her often over the past year or so, the entire table had grown silent. Neither Max or Liz wanted to doubt their eldest daughter, but they thoroughly questioned her just to be sure the conversations she believed to be having with her grandmother weren’t merely her own imaginings run wild. When Emily was able to give specific details about things she should have no knowledge of the couple realized that the girl really could communicate with Max’s mother.
That Halloween young Emily took it upon herself to begin what would come to be known as the Joining. Wound up after an evening of consuming way too much candy, she had finagled an invitation to settle down in Max and Liz’s bed for some quiet time, but when her parents tried to leave the room she explained that Grandma Ramala wanted them to stay. They climbed under the covers with her, Liz holding her firstborn and Max holding his wife, and when they closed their eyes to drift off to sleep they were transported to Paradise.
Max openly wept in his mother’s arms as she held him for the first time in twenty-four years, his daughter looking on with the pride of knowing that she had made the reunion possible. Coming face to face with the woman who had brought Max into her life was no less emotional for Liz, and she whispered a hundred thank yous to the raven-haired matriarch for giving her the miracle that was her husband. Much too soon Emily announced it was time to return to the land of the living, and when the trio awoke a new day was dawning.
The Joining, Max and Liz were soon told by their recently expert daughter, would only be possible once a year, on the night when souls were free to roam the Earth in search of their loved ones. The Maxwells spent each Halloween night after that performing the distinctive family ritual, waiting until the Halloween just before Sarah’s tenth birthday before allowing her to participate with them. Liz had been upset when the younger girl showed hardly any interest in meeting her maternal grandmother until Ramala assured her that Sarah was filled with just as much love and devotion to her family, yet she would have her own path to follow to find her lifetime of happy endings. Sarah would never participate in the Joining again, and she would be an adult before Liz would discover what Ramala’s vague prophecy that day had meant.
Being older Emily was the first to leave home to attend college, but she always returned for the Joining, even if it meant missing a few of her classes. When she returned to Stanford during her final year of school at Northwestern she brought a young man with her, a boy by the name of Nicholas Whittaker who happened to be pure-blooded Antarian. He had already asked Emily to marry him, but she refused to give him an answer until she had her Grandma Ramala’s approval. When the young man was pulled into the Joining that Halloween night Max’s mother greeted him as though he were already a member of the family. The wedding took place the following spring.
Emily’s first Joining as a married woman brought hope to Liz that she would be able to see her parents once again, both of whom had passed away over the period between Emily’s wedding and that Halloween. It was not meant to be, however, and Liz was left instead with a pointed reminder from Ramala regarding Sarah’s welfare. The Maxwell daughter’s life would take a much different path than the one Liz had anticipated for her, but in the end Sarah would have what both her parents and grandmother wanted for the young woman: safety and happiness. Without that warning both Liz and Max would have been outraged when Sarah came home the following spring break with husband in tow, the blow of the news that she and her high school sweetheart had eloped in Las Vegas tempered by the confirmation from Max’s mother that this was the way things were supposed to be. Mark was well aware of the otherworldly lineage of Sarah’s family despite being completely human himself, yet he followed his wife’s wishes when it came to ignoring her alien side. Whereas Emily had committed herself to a full-blooded Antarian and shared a connection with him that rivaled the one her parents had formed, Sarah had intentionally created a block that permanently ensured she and her husband would never once experience each other’s thoughts or emotions firsthand. She was determined that her husband and children would never suffer because of her.
Even with the drastic difference in their attitudes toward being part alien the two sisters remained close, and ten months later when Sarah gave birth to a beautiful little girl no one was surprised that she named the child Emily. A second daughter, Nancy, came into the world just weeks before the elder Emily continued the tradition of giving birth on Halloween by delivering her own baby girl and naming the child after her Grandma Ramala. Sarah went on to have a third daughter, whom she named Elizabeth after her mother, but Emily’s attempts for any more children failed, and despite her closeness to her cousins ‘Rama’ remained an only child.
By the time this second generation of Maxwells was old enough to participate in the Joining Sarah, Mark and their three daughters had moved across the country to Virginia. Emmy, Nan, and Beth were never given the opportunity to accompany Max, Liz, Emily, Nicholas and Rama on the annual journey to meet with the family matriarch in that other plane of existence, although it was doubtful they would have done so even if they had had the choice. To them Halloween would never be anything more than a day to dress up and get lots of candy.
As Rama grew into adulthood her spiritual strength increased as well, and on her eighteenth birthday the others in their small group were pleasantly surprised to see Max’s father standing alongside his wife. Their joyous family reunions had become even more special, and the ease with which Rama brought her living and deceased family members together confirmed that the unique gift of the Joining had been passed on from mother to daughter.
Whether by coincidence or design Sarah’s daughters continued their mother’s tradition of marrying men who were completely human. Their children, both male and female, all were born with mostly human blood, and within two generations the threat that any of their offspring would ever be considered ‘aliens’ ceased to exist. If by some frightening miracle the Special Unit was ever resurrected in its original form half of Max and Liz’s family tree would be safe from detection.
Rama did not come by marriage as easily as her cousins had, although her first serious relationship had seemed most promising. He had appeared to be everything she could have hoped for in a husband, including being one hundred percent Antarian, until their first Christmas together when she brought him home to Max and Liz’s small house to meet her extended family. Claiming to be a purist he refused to dine with her relatives, cursing her Aunt Sarah and cousins for intentionally diluting their Antarian bloodline by mixing with full-blooded humans. Rama had thrown him out of the house, anger and heartbreak consuming her for months afterwards. She refused to date for over two years, but during the Joining on her twenty-fourth birthday her namesake informed her it was time to seek out her destiny. A few short weeks later she met Brody Davis, the man she would marry, although her lingering caution when it came to Antarian men delayed the exchanging of their vows for nearly three years. Claudia, who would be their only child, was born two Halloweens after that.
Rama and Brody made a conscious decision to keep Claudia’s childhood as normal as possible, knowing that the girl would need to live up to the responsibility of carrying on the family legacy soon enough. Rama herself had not come into her prime until she had reached adult age, so there was no need to push their young daughter to be anything more than the little girl she was. Details of Max and Liz’s life were relayed to Claudia in the form of a fairy tale, which grew more elaborate as she matured and could understand its significance, until she turned eighteen and was allowed to choose whether she wanted to become part of the Joining. Rama had no doubts that her daughter would want to assume the role of communicator and historian, and sure enough Claudia had been eager to meet the great, great grandparents responsible for her very existence.
By the time Claudia was ready to marry and have her own child, the pattern those events would follow had been firmly set. She met her Antarian husband while participating in a study abroad program and had quickly informed him that marriage to her would mean raising only one child, a girl. He had been more than happy to accept those conditions, and within a year the couple was married and expecting. Too young to fight three generations of tradition, Elizabeth Ramala came into the world on a Halloween night.
Liz was raised in the same guiding manner as her mother, her destiny offered to her as a choice rather than a duty, and it came as no surprise that she willingly accepted the responsibilities that came with being the offspring of her Great Grandma Emily. She flew in the face of convention, however, and became involved with a man who was only one quarter Antarian, but only after receiving assurances from Ramala herself that it was an acceptable thing to do. Three years into their marriage the next keeper of the Maxwell family legacy was born.
“So then that brings us to you, right, since Liz is your mom?” Rama questioned.
“That’s right,” Emily confirmed.
“Yeah, but how do we know any of that is really true?” Nan asked, although she wasn’t nearly as skeptical as she had been before Emily relayed the rest of the story. “None of this is written down anywhere, so maybe things got twisted around like they do when you play telephone. Our great, great, great grandparents were probably just normal people who made up this interesting story of how they met because the real one was boring.”
With a swipe of her hand Emily could have easily given her cousin the proof she wanted, but she instinctively knew that the course Sarah Maxwell had chosen all those years ago forbade her from doing so. Instead she just smiled, secure in the knowledge that the real story would not be forgotten as long as she was around.
“I want to know about Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie,” Rama commented. “If they really did have this intense soulmate connection, what happened when one of them died?”
Emily’s smile turned wistful as she explained, “They were both ninety-eight the Halloween before my mom was born. They fell asleep for the Joining and met up with everyone as usual, but when the time came to leave they told the others that they would not be going back. My Grandma woke up to discover that they had both died in their sleep, in the same bed that held the memories of their wedding night, the births of their two daughters and all the other wonderful nights of their married life.”
“That’s so sad,” Rama sniffed.
“Not really,” Emily countered. “They lived a long, full life on Earth, and when they passed away they went together. What could be better than that?”
“You’re lucky,” Nan quietly commented. “You don’t seem like you’re afraid to die.”
“Because I know that when I do, I’ll have people waiting for me on the other side.”
“I guess that’s one good thing about being Antarian,” the usually cocky girl observed, her tone not holding the usual derisiveness that automatically came with discussing a subject her parents had always insisted was nothing more than an overly imaginative fabrication.
Emily wanted so desperately to tell Nan that she had nothing to fear, that the reunion of deceased souls had nothing to do with how much Antarian blood ran through a person’s veins. Her mother’s own Halloween night conversations with the Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie she never had the chance to meet in this world had revealed that the deceased were always welcomed by loved ones that had gone before them, even those whose souls weren’t Antarian enough to be seen in the Joining. Grandma Lizzie had been thrilled to be reunited with her parents and Grandma Claudia once again, and Emily knew that when Nan’s time came she would have a similar experience. Hoping to offer some comfort she simply said, “I’m sure you won’t have to worry about dying for a very long time, Nan.”
Suddenly uncomfortable with her display of emotion Nan threw the sarcasm back in her voice to quip, “So what about Grandpa Max and Grandma Lizzie’s fairy tale ending? You can’t say they lived happily ever after if they’re dead.”
“You’re right,” Emily agreed. “It would be wrong to say that.”
“Why?” Rama asked sadly.
“Their bodies may no longer exist, but their souls will live on forever.”
“So?” Nan asked skeptically.
“So the accurate thing to say is:
They lived happily, eternally ever after.”
THE END
Thank you all so much for leaving every bit of wonderful feedback and being good sports during the epilogue. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I’ve loved writing it. This Max and Liz have to be my second favorite ones, and I’m really going to miss them. Twelve Days is up next to be finished, hopefully by the weekend.
Sansu