Roswell Fanatics

Title: Hush, Said the Wind
Author: Nicole a.k.a. nickimlow
Contact: nickimlow@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Characters are from Roswell, story is mine.
Rating: TEEN
Category: A/I (CC) - AU
Summary: Alex and Isabel are getting married and going to start a family. Everything is going to be perfect. But when tragedy strikes, destroying their entire existence, can they pick up the pieces of the life they'd built together, or is that where it was meant to end?
Author's Note: So much for my Dreamer soul. This is my first Stargazer fic, so please be kind I will try to update as frequently as I can. Promise. Well . . .

Oh yes, the style of writing I used for the prologue is just for the prologue. The rest will be written more - well, normally, you might say. I hope the start is okay. *crosses fingers* Please let me know what you think.



Prologue

The moon was full, the stars alight; all was beautiful that night. On the shores there stood a man, and with him was a woman. He had chocolate-coloured swirls in his eyes that melted her heart and every strand of his dark hair was in place. And the blonde, she was equally attractive, if not more so, with her eyes of hazel and gold and that million-dollar smile.

"Do you know why I'm here?" the man asked his companion, looking deep and searchingly into her eyes.

She stood there, her hair caught in the gentle zephyr, her cheeks a rosy pink, her eyes bright and excited. She took his breath away, she did. "No, I don't," she replied. But she didn't care, really. She was just glad that he was there with her, grateful to be so blessed.

"Because I need to tell you something," he said, taking her hand and walking with her. Their steps were synchronised - one, two, three. Her fingers fit perfectly through his, like they were made for them.

She leaned against him slightly as their arms swung back and forth, back and forth. "What do you need to tell me?" she asked in return.

"That -" he broke off, as if uncertain.

She tilted her head, asking him what was wrong.

"Nothing. It's just that . . . that it ends here," he said sadly, choking on the words, pulling his hand away from hers and stopping in his tracks. The magic shattered and scattered like pieces of broken glass.

She looked at him, her body frozen. "What?"

"Our courtship is over," he answered, turning away from her and slipping his hands into his pockets nervously.

Her smile faded from those full lips, the light in her pretty eyes dimmed. "Why?" she demanded. "Why?" she repeated. "Why?" she asked again.

"Because courtships end," he replied gravely. They had shared such wonderful times, he thought, and he was sure she thought so, too.

She could not understand, could not comprehend his words. They were so . . . sudden. Everything had been going on just fine.

Hush, said the wind. But the wind herself sighed in her ears, breathed down her neck. She was far from silent. Be still, said the waters. But the waters were far from still; they were moving gently with the breeze, lapping against the shore in silver waves, washing up her feet. They were far from still.

Tears began to flow, her body shook, and grieved cries escaped her lips. She took a step away from him, and another.

"Let me finish," he said quickly, seeing her anguish. "Because courtships end - and marriages begin." Then he dropped on one knee, and removed his hand from his pocket, bringing out a little velvet box, smiling his silly grin as he opened it. He wasn't that bad an actor, he decided. "Isabel Evans, will you marry me?"

The little diamond glittered and sparkled like her eyes. She looked at him in disbelief. "You're - oh my God. You're so . . . evil. Alex Whitman, you're evil!" she exclaimed, laughing as she fell to her knees and threw her slender arms around him.

"Is that a yes?" he asked sheepishly, still holding out the ring.

She smiled. She laughed. She cried. She smiled again. "What do you think?" She didn't give him a chance to reply, for she soon brought her lips to his, and they shared a kiss so sweet, so exquisite.

Joy filling his heart, he slipped the engagement ring through her slender finger.

And it fit. Perfectly.

Sternbetrachter - I'll try not to make it so . . . tragic Thanks for reading!

LovinGuerin2much, roswellluver - Thanks for reading!

This chapter is a bit more, well, normal, than the prologue. It's nothing much, just introducing a few other characters.


Chapter One

We were close, all of us. We used to watch cartoons together, sing nursery rhymes together, go to school together. And then we grew up, and everything began to change, as time passed. I could say that I had expected all of us to never change, to always be the way we were. But in my heart of hearts, I knew that the day would come. Eventually.

Perhaps if we had kept to the way we used to be, things would have turned out differently. It would have saved us all a great deal of pain and heartache, prevented tragedy and turmoil. Matters of love and life, they are complicated, and best left untouched. Yet we are drawn to them by a magnetic force that we cannot fight.

But we got to this point in life, where we stand now, and it may be wrong to say this, but I will say it anyhow, for it is how I feel. Every moment in our lives shaped us to be the way we are today, and not an instant was unimportant.





It was past midnight when Isabel Evans arrived home. Her parents were asleep by then, but her twenty-six-year-old brother, Max, was on the couch reading a book. A fresh face in the computer programming sector, he shared an apartment unit with their friend, Michael Guerin, but he came back every other weekend to be a bother around the house. The smile still plastered on her face, Isabel hung her coat on the rack by the door and waltzed through the foyer and into the living room. Barely able to stand still, she collapsed onto the sofa beside her brother, throwing her purse on the table as she stretched out her legs.

"You're early," Max commented, putting down his paperback. Then, noticing her grin, he made a guess, "Alex?"

Isabel laughed. "I don't know. What do you think?" she said, throwing her head back as she tied her hair up. "What are you reading?" she asked, deciding to keep her brother in suspense. He didn't seem very interested; he was a guy, after all. But she knew that he could see her excitement, and he would ask her about it even if he didn't care.

Max raised his eyebrows slightly as he picked up his book and tossed it over to her. "Everything is Illuminated. Jonathan Safran Foer," he answered. "It's about this Jewish-American guy who goes to Ukraine to find the woman who saved his grandfather during the Holocaust. And so on and so forth. He has an interesting style, this guy. You should read it."

Catching the book, Isabel turned the black and white book over. She guessed that Max's bookish girlfriend, Liz Parker, had recommended it to him. The cover was designed with a very interesting touch, the young graphic designer observed. There was no summary on the back, only the title and author's name again, upside down in messy scrawls. She shrugged and handed it back to Max. "Maybe I will, once you're done," she said.

"Okay, Isabel, I know you're waiting for me to ask, so what is it?" Max asked, rolling his eyes. He knew her well enough to recognise this tactic. He was her brother, after all.

Shrugging, Isabel picked up the remote control and flicked on the television. The music blared furiously, catching her by surprise. Laughing to herself, she hurriedly turned the volume down before their parents came down to reprimand them. "These new rock bands are really too much," she said, shaking her head, ignoring his question.

"Are you going to answer me or what?" Max persisted, already getting tired of the game.

"Answer what?" Isabel said absently, flipping the channel.

". . . welcoming our guest of the day . . ."

"Talk show. Boring," Isabel muttered, moving to the next channel.

Max knew how her mind worked. Her trademark response was "What do you think?" and everyone who knew Isabel had heard her say that before. Well, Max also knew exactly how to get her to talk; two could play it that way. One last try, he decided. "What's gotten you so excited?"

"There's nothing good on," she complained, switching the television off and throwing the remote control aside.

Yawning, Max stood up, "Well, I'm tired. Good night," he said, stretching.

"Okay, sit, little brother of mine," she ordered him. She could hardly contain her excitement anymore. Grinning like an idiot, she extended her arm, showing him her hand.

And then he saw it. How could he have missed it? The diamond was small, but it shone brilliantly nonetheless. "Wow," he breathed, his eyes wide. "Wow, really?"

His sister nodded happily. "We were at the beach. He's the most terrible person on earth, I'm telling you," she said. Tears began to slide down her flawless cheeks, but they were not tears of sadness.

"Terrible?"

"I'll spare you the details, at least for the night," Isabel said good-naturedly.

Max grinned. "Well, I'm absolutely thrilled for you, Iz." Like a brother should, he gave her a hug. "I really am." And indeed, he truly was. Isabel had always been the popular girl throughout their years in high school, the one everyone admired. Alex was Liz's best friend and he was always hanging out with her and the other girl in the gang, Maria. Alex began spending time around Isabel more often when Max and Liz had started dating.

Every guy who'd ever dated Isabel had had his heart broken, until Alex Whitman decided to try his luck and asked her out. He'd changed her, brought out the better person in her. No one would ever have imagined them together, the lanky nerd and the social butterfly. But what had begun as acquaintanceship soon grew to friendship, and then something deeper settled. Max had never seen his sister so happy, nor so at ease. She had found herself at last, and it was all thanks to Alex. He was the one, and even Max had no doubt that he was perfect for Isabel. "Congratulations."

Isabel was glad that she had shared her joy with her brother, because he was her best friend and he understood her better than anyone. The following morning, Alex would come, and they would announce their engagement to her parents formally.

That night, Isabel crawled into bed and laid awake, replaying Alex's proposal in her mind for several minutes before drifting off into a peaceful sleep, one filled with dreams of the perfect life the future had in store for her and Alex.

And over at the Whitmans', Alex was dreaming about the same thing.



Her dark blond hair ruffled with sleep and her face terribly in need of freshening up, twenty-five-year-old Maria DeLuca skimmed through her wardrobe, trying to decide which outfit to wear to work that day. It was a Sunday, but she had to meet a client and he wasn't free any other time. She was an up-and-coming interior designer and she really couldn't risk pissing the guy off, not at that point in her career. She hadn't made it big enough - yet.

"Something professional but stylish at the same time," she muttered grumpily, finding nothing to her liking. "About time for another shopping expedition," she decided, making a mental note to call her best friend, Liz, later that day to arrange a date at the mall.

"No," she grumbled, dumping a gray skirt aside. "Too dull." She picked up a red and yellow blouse. Sticking her tongue out in disgust, she tossed it to the floor. "Too psychedelic. Did I actually buy that? God help me!"

Just then, the telephone rang. She picked it up and barked, "What?"

"Not even a hello for your favourite guy?" said a familiar voice. It was her (and Liz's) other childhood friend.

Maria was relieved to hear his voice. "Alex, I'm so glad you called! I'm in the middle of a crisis here!" she whined, moving back to the closet and flipping furiously through her clothes again.

"Of course you are," he said on the other end, and she could almost hear the grin in his voice. "Let me guess. Having a hard time picking out a dress?"

"Not necessarily a dress, Alex," Maria retorted, rolling her eyes. Men! "You lawyers are supposed to be good at giving advice!"

"Uh-huh, yeah. On the law," he pointed out. "All right, all right, let's see. How about the plaid skirt you just bought? That looks good on you."

"I already wore that this week." She thought she heard Alex laugh, and would have yelled at him if she'd had the time and patience.

"All right, then. The navy-blue skirt, the velvet one, to go with a plain white blouse," he suggested. "And a jacket, a blue one. Definitely."

He had taste, that much was certain. Maria could just kiss him. She hadn't worn that in a while; it would work. "Not bad," she said gratefully as she searched for the outfit. "You're a genius!"

"I know I am," Alex joked. "Now, are you going to ask me why I called you or what?"

Slipping the jacket from its hanger, Maria cringed. "To help me pick out an outfit - duh."

"You're a clever one."

"You don't have to tell me," she retorted.

"Maria, I asked her," Alex said, a smile in his voice. "I finally did it."

The jacket slipped from Maria's hand. Fumbling to pick it up, she moved the receiver to her other ear. "You - what?" Had she heard correctly?

She had.

"Oh my God, Alex, that's wonderful! You lucky man, you!" Maria was bouncing around the room. She had known that Alex was planning to propose to Isabel Evans for quite a while now, and though Isabel had never been her favourite person, Alex had always had his heart set on her. She knew how much he loved her, and thought that they made a sweet - if not conventional - couple.

"I just thought you'd like to know," Alex said, chuckling sheepishly. "But I'll talk to you later, okay? I don't have time to tell Liz, so ring her for me, will you? I'm going over to her house to talk to Isabel's parents now."

"So get your ass over there, snap-snap! I'll tell Liz, don't worry. Let us know what happens, all right?" Maria demanded, excited for her friend. She had always wanted the latest news on anything and everything, and her best friend's impending marriage was one of those matters that perked her interest and required her attention.

"Yes, ma'am!"

They laughed as they hung up. Maria stood and smiled for a while at the photograph that sat in a horizontal frame on her desk; it was of her, Liz, and Alex together, taken four years ago at her twenty-first birthday bash. At least one of them would be tying the knot soon.



The doorbell rang . . .

Isabel rolled over in bed. Two more minutes . . . she thought groggily. Then it hit her. Sitting bolt upright, dread began to take over drowsiness. "Oh no . . . " she groaned, berating herself inwardly.

As she brushed her teeth and stared at her reflection, she wondered vaguely what Alex would say if she went downstairs in her nightshirt with her hair all messy. After washing her face, she randomly picked an outfit from her closet - a red sundress that fell just above her knees. Like it or not, it would have to do.

"Isabel!" called her mother's voice from downstairs.

"Coming, Mom!" she yelled back, her face turning pink. She couldn't believe it. This was the moment of truth, and she had slept right through! "Just give me a second."

She slipped the dress over her head and stood in front of the mirror to evaluate her appearance. Seven on the scale of ten, she decided. Quickly, she touched her face up with a bit of makeup. When she was done, she felt satisfied. Eight-and-a-half, she concluded. That wasn't too bad.

Straightening out the pleats of her skirt, she opened the door. When she descended the stairs, the first face she saw was Alex's, smiling at her from his seat. He looked exceptionally handsome in his brown shirt (ironed, she noted) and slacks (creaseless, thank God). Casual, but nice.

"So, it seems that you two have something to tell us," Phillip Evans said, looking at his daughter expectantly.

His wife, Diane, nodded. "He insisted on waiting for you," she added, raising her eyebrows at Isabel. But Isabel knew that her mother was entirely aware of the situation. Mothers always knew.

Isabel sat down next to Alex. Being the gentleman that he was, he went straight to the point and began, "Yesterday, I asked Isabel" - he looked at her for an instant - "to marry me."

"And I agreed," Isabel pitched in, bringing out her hand for her parents to see.

Mr. and Mrs. Evans were surprised, but pleasantly so. Alex, however, did not give them a chance to react immediately. "But today, I must ask you for your permission. May I have your daughter's hand in marriage?"

Isabel thought it sounded like a movie. A damned good one.

Diane Evans was beaming proudly now. "I know of very few men these days who are as polite as you are, Alex," she said. "And I would be honoured to have you as my son-in-law."

Mr. Evans stood up and walked over to them. Both Alex and Isabel rose quickly. "I trust that Isabel can make her own decisions" - he winked at his daughter - "and I would never interfere, ever. She knows what's best for herself, I'm sure. But if you want my consent, you most certainly have it. I can't imagine anyone else for my little girl." And with that, he embraced Isabel and her husband-to-be.



"You overslept?" Alex laughed, giving Isabel's hand an affectionate squeeze. "That just goes to show how much you really want this, doesn’t it?" he kidded as he drove slowly down the streets they all knew so well. The streets of Roswell, New Mexico - their hometown.

Isabel began to protest, "Alex, you know better!" Blushing, she added, "It's a Sunday and I - slept well, that's all."

"I'm glad you did." He came to a red light and stopped. Leaning over, he gave her a light peck on the cheek. "My girl needs her beauty sleep; I would never deny her that."

"You'd better not, mister!" Isabel warned jestingly.

Alex found himself admiring her beauty as the breeze through the wound-down window whipped her golden hair and the sunlight reflected in her light brown eyes. And her beauty ran much deeper, to the heart. She was his fiancée now. And he was blessed.

Truly blessed.

LovinGuerin2much, Mt Gazer, and roswellluver - Thanks for the f/b!

Exams are over, haha! <--hyper

Okay, so I'm putting off the angst for a while. This chapter may seem . . . pointless. And short, especially after so long a break. But we'll go slow, okay? I just thought we need to know the relationships a little better and all that jazz. Hope you won't kill me for this . . . *hides*


Chapter Two

". . . buy a wedding planner . . . pick out rings . . . bridal attire . . . Oh yes, we have to set the wedding date . . . choose the venue . . ." Diane Evans was scribbling the notes in her organiser so quickly that Isabel was half-expecting her to burn a hole in the paper.

"Mom, I think Iz knows how to sort those things out," Max said, trying to be helpful, but failing as he added, "We all know how much she likes to organise things."

Thanks a lot, Isabel mouthed sourly when her mother wasn't looking. "You know what? I think I am going to need your help, Mom," she said, smiling at Mrs. Evans. "A mother would know how to handle these things, I'm sure."

Max smirked. "Right," he snorted, stifling a laugh.

Isabel knew what her brother was thinking. She had always been the controlling type, so to speak. One Christmas, she had organised the events and bossed everyone around. That wasn't going to happen this time, though. This was her wedding, and she wasn't going to get all stressed out about it. "But I was thinking we could go slowly on this," she suggested lightly to her mother. "I mean, Alex proposed only yesterday. There's plenty of time till the wedding - we don't even know when it's going to be." It might be in a month, or three, or six, or a year, she thought. Or six years.

Clearly surprised, Mrs. Evans widened her eyes. But she didn't falter, and instead giving her daughter an encouraging smile. "Of course, honey. We've all got to breathe a little before getting started on the arrangements."

"Exactly," Isabel agreed, giving her brother a nudge in the ribs.

"Ow! - Oh, yeah, yeah, exactly," he echoed. "Ow . . ."

"Ssh!" she hissed, stepping on his foot this time and widening her smile.

"All right, then, we'll leave that till later," Mrs. Evans said. "I'm going to go upstairs to get ready for dinner with your father." She stood up and walked away.

Slumping back in her seat, Isabel shot a glance at Max. "Is she upset?"

"She's just excited," Max assured her, assuming his brotherly affection again (either that, or he was trying not to earn another poke from her). "Don't worry about it, okay?" Then he, too, got to his feet. "I'm going to pick Liz up. I'll see you later."

"Bye. Oh, and sorry about the jab."

They were celebrating at the gang's favourite café that night. Max and Liz were going to be there, and so were Michael Guerin and Maria DeLuca. Kyle Valenti, too. Isabel hurried upstairs to change. The lavender dress, she decided. It was Alex's favourite. And maybe a string of pearls to go with it . . . the black pumps . . .



Liz Parker picked up her purse and skipped to the door. Her long-time boyfriend, Max Evans, was waiting for her in his car. After locking up, she hurried over to the jet-black BMW and hopped in. "Hey," she greeted him, giving him a kiss. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Not too long, nah," Max said, winking. His amber eyes twinkled in the light. As he pulled out into the road, he prompted, "So what do you think? About Iz and Alex, I mean."

"I think it's great. I'm sure you saw it coming. We all did," Liz pointed out, "though I hadn't expected it to happen so soon."

Max nodded his agreement. "Once the arrangements are done, everything is going to be hectic. Mom's all excited, and, well, you know Isabel."

Liz grinned. Oh yes, she knew Isabel Evans. Prim and proper, everything in order. "I expect she'll be carrying a clipboard with a checklist everywhere she goes from now until the wedding. Poor Alex," she joked.

"Oh, he'll live. Well, Isabel wants to accept Mom's help this time. We'll just have to see, won't we?" Max went on. Then, changing the subject, he turned to look over at her briefly. "Any news about the internship?"

Liz sighed, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. An aspiring writer, she had applied for an internship with The New York Times. She had sent her letter three weeks ago, but still - "Nothing," she said, frowning. In the meantime, she was still freelancing, randomly contributing articles to various newspapers. But she couldn't go on with that forever. Maybe she wasn't meant to make it in that field.

Max reached over and placed a hand over hers. "Don't give up," he encouraged her. "What about that book of yours? How is that coming along?"

"It's coming along just fine," she replied with a mysterious smile, reminding him, "Hey, you know you aren't supposed to ask me about it." She was writing a novel and it was going well so far. It was about the alien mythology that enveloped Roswell so closely. The story was fictional, but she was spicing it up a little by inserting herself and her friends in it.

"All right, all right," Max said, making a left turn. "But you sure are taking a really long time with it."

"It's a novel, Max, not a postcard."



Isabel was telling Alex how hyped up her mother was about the engagement, and that she was already planning the wedding. That was quick, he noted. He didn't really mind, actually, but he could tell that Isabel wasn't sure what to make of it. "We can take our time if you want," he said, trying to make her feel comfortable.

"Well, yeah . . ."

"Or we could get married next week," he went on with a twinkle in his eye.

Before Isabel could respond, two familiar voices shrieked in unison from behind him: "Alex!" He turned around, only to be smashed into by his very ecstatic friends, Liz Parker and Maria DeLuca.

"I know you love me, but I'm taken, ladies," he said pointedly, grinning at Isabel as he returned the bear hugs.

Maria punched him playfully in the arm. "So you're dumping us now, are you? Let me at her!" She pulled away from him and went over to Isabel. Alex watched, quite happily, as Maria gave his fiancée a congratulatory hug. The two had never really gotten along, but their differences were thrown aside for the time being. For his sake or not, at least it was a change from the norm.

"You know, I really wouldn't mind some form of acknowledgement, big man," Liz announced, pretending to sulk.

Towering over her, Alex lifted his head and pretended to look around. "Who said that?"

"Very funny," she muttered, groaning.

"Sorry, pipsqueak."

"Congratulations, Alex," she said, her mock frown giving way to a sparkling smile. "Come here, you." She gave him another hug before rushing over to Isabel. His three favourite ladies did their girl thing - they chatted.

Max, Michael, and Kyle soon came into view, entering the café (after parking the car, Alex guessed). All three grasped his hand in turns and gave it a friendly shake. The guys had always been his friends, but they were interesting, the kind of people you wanted to know, whereas Alex himself was . . . boring. Well, that's a comforting thought, he said to himself sarcastically.

Looking over at the gang, he let his mind wander for a moment. Then he realised that a Kenny G number was playing. He knew it was just background music, but he found himself walking over to Isabel and pulling her out onto the floor. She was taken aback for a moment, but she understood when he put a hand to her waist and held her hand with the other. They swayed in a sort of daze to the fluid rhythm of the song as other couples took their lead and began spilling onto the floor.

"Do you regret saying yes?" he whispered in her ear.

"I didn't say yes," she reminded him. "You just assumed that was my answer."

"So I was wrong?"

"No," Isabel said confidently, resting her cheek on his chest, moving closer. "I said this morning that I agreed, remember? Why - do you regret proposing to me now?"

"I'm a nerd, not an idiot," he joked. "No. No, of course I don't."

"So it's mutual, then," she declared with a certain finality that left no room for doubt. "Now shut up and dance with me, silly. Dance me away."

And they danced. As the song slowed and came to an end, Isabel looked into Alex's eyes and murmured, "Kiss me."

Alex brought his hand to Isabel's back, feeling the smooth silk slide gently beneath his palm. She had worn this pale purple dress at their high school prom, when they'd kissed for the first time. She had looked exquisite then, and was equally captivating now. Oblivious to the applause around them, their eyes closed as they pulled closer into an embrace and their lips met in a burst of intensity, igniting flames of passion and desire.

Mt Gazer and Luvya, thanks! And, uh, I know everyone wants an answer to the whole yet thing - please be patient, kay? Oh yeah, I know I've been taking ages, and the story is going reeeeeeeally slow (yeah, kill me) so I'll try to post Chapter Four sooner, okay? ---Nicole.


Chapter Three

"What do you think?" Isabel asked, twirling around in the white gown for her mother, Liz, and Maria to see. Then she scrutinised herself in the mirror. It had only been a few weeks since Alex's proposal and they were already picking out her dress; so much for going slow.

Diane Evans adjusted the bow around her daughter's waist. Isabel frowned at her reflection. This has to be a joke, she thought disbelievingly. All of them looked at each other and burst out laughing. For some reason, the dress had looked a hell of a lot nicer before she'd put it on.

"The bow is hideous!" Maria exclaimed between giggles, flapping her arms, wing-fashion.

"Yeah, it makes me look like the Tooth Fairy," Isabel agreed, laughing too. She turned to the rack again and skimmed through the dresses. "There's got to be something here - there just has to be."

"Oh, we'll find it," Liz assured her, standing beside her.

The acclaimed designer came in, clapping her hands. "So, have you found anything to your liking?" Lydia Gordon was Diane's friend, and she was known to be very talented - known to be. Upon seeing the dress Isabel had on, she smiled and complimented, "Ah, yes. That looks absolutely stunning on you."

Isabel shot a glance at Liz and Maria, raising an eyebrow at them. Both girls turned away and pretended to examine the racks, hiding their grinning faces. Trying to keep a straight face, Isabel shook her head. "I don't think this is it," she said. "I want something a little more - simple."

"Which dress would you recommend, Lydia?" Diane asked her friend, looking as amused as the girls were.

Tiptoeing over to the other two, Isabel whispered to them, "If she thinks I look good in this pixie costume, I'm not sure I want to take any of her recommendations seriously."

"I'm sure Alex would think it's cute on you," Liz teased.

"Sure he will. Stunning, really," Maria chipped in.

"Thanks for the encouragement," Isabel said dryly, turning her attention back to the gowns, hoping she would find something better.



It was a Saturday and Alex was at the office, sorting through some documents. A young lawyer with the firm, Wilson & McCain, he was determined to make his way to the top, maybe even become a judge someday. But on that Saturday, he was still twenty-eight and had only just started his job a few months ago. The pay was good and with his and Isabel's combined, they would have more than enough to live on.

He and Isabel had been engaged for about a month now and the wedding was scheduled to be in five weeks' time. That seemed very soon and he knew that the days were flying by, and that he would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle in no time.

Taking a sip of coffee, Alex examined the file he was holding. He had an appointment lined up with this client on Monday, he noted mentally. He thought for a moment. Wait a minute, I swear I scheduled this meeting for Wednesday! I'd better-

- "Whitman," said a voice from the door, followed by a knock.

"Oh, shit!" he burst out without thinking as the coffee cup slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, the dark liquid staining the cream-coloured carpet. Then he looked up and found his colleague, Gerard Tyson, standing in front of him.

The tall and well-built middle-aged black man under child advocacy entered and grinned as Alex bent to retrieve the cup (that, luckily, wasn't broken). "I do it all the time," Gerry said reassuringly. "The cleaning lady will get it."

"Uh-huh, I suppose that's your idea of American independence. Take a seat," Alex offered, waving toward the chair as he threw a bunch of tissue on the carpet to soak up the coffee.

As he lowered himself onto the swivel chair, Gerry gave a smirk. "Yeah, I can see your method's a lot more practical, Cinderella."

"Quit the crap and cut to the chase, Tyson," Alex snorted. The guy was cool but Alex noticed that he always had a lot to say. Well, so did Alex.

"Got a little info for you. Just thought you'd want to know in advance," Gerry said with a shrug.

Picking up the stained cluster of tissue and, throwing it into the wastebasket, Alex eyed him suspiciously. "Aren't we a little too old - and a little too, well, masculine - for gossip?"

"You're old and masculine? I didn't notice," Gerry kidded. "But really, man, I'm pretty sure that this is something you'd want to hear."

"Shoot."

"I'm moving to Wyoming with Hannah and the kids. Mother-in-law is there; she's got some health problems and all, so you know how it is."

"Sorry to hear about that," Alex said with a frown. He was also sorry that Gerry was leaving, because he was a dedicated attorney and Alex had nothing but respect for the man. The firm was going to suffer quite a loss.

Gerry nodded. "Yeah, well," he grunted. "But that's not what you need to hear." He paused for a moment, running his fingers over his chin. "So here's the scoop: you're taking my place here."

Resting his elbows on the desk, Alex leaned forward, wondering if his ears were blocked; he wasn't quite sure if he had heard Gerry right. "Taking your place?"

"The firm needs people under that department, man. They've really got to switch you over. The good news is that we've still got to wrap things up around here so we're going to need time. You'll probably be starting after your honeymooning is over."

Good news? Alex slumped back in his chair. Representing kids was way out of his league; child advocacy was not his thing. He had the qualifications, but not the experience, and definitely not the patience. "Thanks a lot, Tyson."

"All the best to you, kid," Gerry said, giving him a tap on the shoulder before leaving.

Alex sat there thinking for a while. He supposed it wasn't that bad. If he and Isabel were to have kids someday, this job would, in a way, prepare him for the fatherhood.

He set the thought aside, leaving that to later. He looked back at the file he'd been running through before Gerry's interruption. I definitely scheduled this for Wednesday, he thought, forcing himself to keep his mind on track.



"Now this . . ." Maria breathed. "This is definitely you."

Isabel smiled gratefully. Much to her disappointment, they had found zilch at Lydia Gordon's boutique and decided to proceed to lunch. Now Isabel was glad to have left without a decision because when they had returned home, Diane had gone straight to her room and brought out the most exquisite gown any of them had ever seen. She had thought, initially, that Isabel would rather have a dress that she'd picked out herself, but seeing that they had had no luck that day, she had made the decision to show Isabel her own wedding dress. Isabel had seen it in photographs, but she had never actually seen it. Once she had put it on, she'd known instantly that this was the right one. The gown was off-white with long sleeves and a slim-cut skirt as well as flowers embroidered over thin lace in the front, giving it a bold look. "You think?"

"Totally," Liz affirmed, giving the thumbs-up sign. "I would give anything to own a gown like that."

"Do you like it?" Diane asked uncertainly, keeping her hopes down.

"Like it? No," Isabel said, shaking her head as she went up to her and hugged her. "I love it."

"My mother made it for me," Diane said, overcome by a surge of nostalgia as she wiped at her tears. "But I guess she really made it for us."

Rhonda, Trude, Luvya, destinysucks, LovinGuerin2Much, I really appreciate your support! Sorry to keep you waiting. The computer is still down, actually. I hope this chapter isn't a disappointment as it goes straight to the wedding. Yeah, terribly short and unromantic. Just goofy! Mwahahah . . . Anyway, it's told from four points of view, and even though it seems odd, there is a reason why I chose those characters. That will come later. So anyway, just a big sorry once again Well, thanks for sticking with this story! ---Nicole.


Chapter Four

Eight weeks later . . .

Alex had always been a nerd, quite plainly a social outcast back in the high school scene. Of the four of them, Kyle had never guessed that Alex would be tying the knot first, least of all with Isabel Evans. But it was happening, all right.

Everyone was talking amongst themselves. The bride and her father had yet to make their grand appearance. The excitement was yet to start, so Kyle fiddled away absently with his cellular phone. He had to admit, the geek was good. As a high school jock, Kyle had attracted plenty of girls, and pretty attractive ones at that. But it had all been about popularity. He had never been serious with anyone before. He dated Liz for a short period of time, but then she'd found Max Evans and that had been the end of the road for them.

Now, already in his twenties, Kyle still hadn't found a steady partner. He'd been waiting, quite patiently, for a long time, but over the years, no one came by. He hadn't found her yet. He wondered when she would come along. Or was he destined to lead a bachelor's life and grow old alone?

Alex Whitman sure was a lucky one.



Alex stood at the end of the aisle before the priest, his fingers trembling. He wasn't nervous; he was just . . . well, nervous. Why couldn't he be like other men? Like Max, or Michael, or Kyle? Those guys were confident, sure of themselves. He felt useless next to them.

This was his and Isabel's big day. It wasn't that he was regretting anything, or that he wasn't ready, but he couldn't help but wonder what the days ahead would bring. He would like to think that everything would go smoothly and they'd live happily ever after. Realistically, though, he knew that there were going to be many ups and downs. Married men always complained that the magic wore off after the wedding.

Shooting a glance at the priest, Alex fought to keep a straight face. The guy looked remarkably like a bull. He could almost imagine the guy's nostrils flaring, crouched in a ready-to-charge stance. Focus, Alex, focus, he told himself. You're marrying Isabel, not the priest

His mind wandered back to marriage. He thought about the married couples that stayed together all their lives. There had to be something that kept the bond alive. They would be one of those couples, he thought. Alex couldn't visualise his love for Isabel dimming; with each passing day, it only grew stronger, brighter.

Why the hell are you thinking about it today, Alex? You had plenty of time before, why now? he asked himself, mentally giving himself a kick. You really deserve a punch, man.

But what did it matter, anyway? He wasn't going to change his mind. If those ups and downs came, they would face them together and overcome them – together. Who cared what those stupid, ungrateful married men thought? They were crazy; they didn't know what was good for them.

Straightening his tie and smoothing out imaginary creases on his jacket, Alex shook himself out of his head and forced himself to return to the present. The present was a bunch of relatives and friends sitting in the pews, still talking away, and a priest that looked like a bull waiting quite patiently for the ceremony to start.

Present, schmesent. Nothing was happening yet.

So what would it be like being married to Isabel? There would be night-time fantasies, Alex predicted, grinning. And would there be little Whitman kids? Maybe not so soon, he thought with a shudder. It was bad enough he was going to be working as an attorney in the juvenile court after the honeymoon. Isabel didn't think it was that big a deal, but he really wasn't sure the bosses were right to have him replace Gerry. But maybe with Isabel's support, things would work out.

Alex caught his mother's eye and saw her smile at him; it was a smile of approval. His parents loved Isabel almost as much as he did. He smiled back, knowing that he had made the right choice.

The crowd soon hushed and for a split second, Alex thought his emotions were showing too evidently. He realised in a while, however, that no one cared what look he wore on his face because all attention was now focused on the bride and her father, both of whom had just arrived. To his surprise, as they began to walk down the aisle, arm in arm, Alex's pulse, which had been racing, began to regulate. Isabel had always had that calming effect on him and it seemed to be doing the trick again.

At the sight of Isabel's lit-up eyes, Alex vowed that their marriage would last forever, that the magic would never die. He wasn't like those other men.

The fabric of her gown flowed perfectly down her slender body, complimenting her slender bodice. The ivory shade accentuated her perfect tan while the tiny embroidered flowers glittered slightly, giving her an angelic aura.

She was perfect. She was his Isabel.



Breathe, Isabel, breathe, Isabel commanded herself, smoothing out the pleats of her skirt. Everything's going to be just fine.

She looked at her father, wondering what was going on in his mind. Isabel had always been daddy's little girl, his princess. She recalled the lyrics of that song, Butterfly Kisses. Was that how he felt? What was it like, at that moment, to know that in just a while, he would be giving his little girl away? His eyes were clear, but she could see the emotion in them. Phillip Evans gave her an encouraging smile and offered his arm.

She could hear the noise bouncing off the walls, but the moment they stepped inside, everyone went silent. Alex was standing at the other end of the aisle, handsomely dressed with a smile on his face. Isabel felt excitement coursing through her veins. As the music began to play, she walked with her father, one step at a time, toward the man who was to be her husband in a matter of minutes.

They would exchange vows. And then the rings. And they would kiss, and it would be final.

Final.



Liz watched, almost longingly, as the couple looked lovingly into each other's eyes. It was a classic fairytale. She wondered if she would ever experience such a moment. The priest's words were drowned out by her thoughts. Quite lost in her mind, she began imagining what it would be like to be in Isabel's shoes right then, gazing into the eyes of the man she loved (not Alex, of course), staring straight at her future.

She had little doubt that Alex and Isabel were moving toward a perfect future. They were the ideal couple. Nothing could go wrong with them.

But what about her and Max? She knew that she loved him and that he loved her, too, but was that enough? She had received a letter from The New York Times informing her that she was eligible for the internship. In a little over a week, she would be leaving Roswell for a while. What would the distance do to her relationship with Max?

She thought about the novel she was writing and had to smile. What if their lives were really different, unlike the ordinary day-to-day routine that was their reality? She probably wouldn't be worrying about love and romance. Liz smiled to herself and figured she could do with a few weeks' independence after all.

Laughing inwardly, she shook the thought aside and turned her attention back to Alex and Isabel.

Best of luck, guys, she wished them silently. But I bet you won’t be needing it.

FINALLY. Weheheheehheehheehheheeh . . . Thanks to everyone who's still here And also, welcome rigel, thanks for reading

Anyway . . . here it is. It's a pretty dumb chapter, and VERYYYYYYYYYYYYY short considering I haven't posted in, like, how long? Bah, I suck!!!!!! *ducks a flying tomato*

---Nicole.


Chapter Five

That night, after all the insanity was over and done with, Alex and Isabel went to their room in a cosy hotel just outside Roswell.

“Room 126,” said the bellboy as he was about to open the door.

Alex quickly reached for his wallet and handed him a tip, not quite sure if it was a five-dollar bill or a fifty but not caring much either. “Here you go,” he said, pressing the note into the young man’s hand. “We can take it from here.”

The bellboy grinned slightly, handing the key over to Isabel.

“You could’ve waited for him to take our stuff inside, you know,” Isabel commented as she opened the door and went inside, leaving Alex to pick up the bags. “Your mistake, you handle it, dummy.”

Alex stood dumbfounded for a second. He had wanted to carry Isabel in, traditional style, but she had marched right in without a look at him. Grunting, he carried the bags inside, not-so-traditional style.

“Nice place,” she said, seating herself on the bed as he came in. “Very nice.”

“I know what could make it nicer,” Alex said, forgetting his annoyance as he dropped the stuff and began closing in on her.

Just before he could grab hold of Isabel, though, she squirmed away and jumped to her feet. “Yeah!” she said, snapping her fingers. Then, she headed toward the table in the corner. “Candles.”

Alex smacked his forehead, collapsing onto the bed, face down. “You’re playing games with me,” he groaned, his voice muffled by the blankets.

“What are you talking about?” Isabel asked, playing stupid. She began lighting the long, white candles before flicking the lights off.

When Alex rolled over, he found his wife, still dressed in white, bathed in dim candlelight, looking very much like an angel. Unable to resist, he stood up and took her by the waist, his lips crushing hers in an instant. “No more games,” he said between kisses. He had waited too long for this moment.

“No more games,” Isabel breathed as he began working on the zipper that held her gown up. “Careful with the dress. It’s going to be our daughter’s someday.”



A month later . . .

“Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock,” Alex reconfirmed with his client. Well, his client’s mother. “All right. Yes. Yes, don’t worry. Okay, goodbye, Mrs. Olsen.”

Having hung up and cleared his desk, Alex picked up his briefcase and made his way out. “Goodnight, Miss Harding,” Alex said to the new receptionist.

Tess Harding had just begun work two days ago. She was a cute little thing - on the short side, with big eyes and golden curls. “It’s not even night time yet,” she chirped.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered under his breath.

“Goodbye, Mr. Whitman. See you tomorrow,” she said in her honey-coated voice. She seemed to be battering her eyelashes slightly, but maybe he was imagining things.

A little too cute, maybe.

When he got home fifteen minutes later, he went straight to the bedroom, where he found Isabel lying on the bed. Alex threw his bag onto the floor and collapsed next to Isabel. "Hey, beautiful," he said, moving closer and bringing his lips to hers.

Isabel set her paper and pencil aside, meeting his kiss with equal desire. "Hi, handsome, how was work?" she asked. Desire was one thing, but there were certain things that could put that hold. Pulling away, she raised a hand to her nose and cut him off when he was about to answer, "You stink. I thought your office had air-conditioning."

"Out of order today. Oh please, it isn't that bad," Alex said in self-defence, catching a whiff of himself. "Well, yeah, maybe it is."

"Believe me," Isabel said, rolling her eyes as she got up, went to the bedroom, grabbed a towel, and threw it his way. "Go take a shower, okay? I made us dinner and it's getting cold."

"Yes, ma'am," Alex replied, giving her a peck on the cheek (earning a playful swat) as he made his way to the bathroom.

Isabel shook her head, laughing, as she went to the kitchen. After setting the table, she sat down and just admired the apartment unit. It was small, that was true, but it was also rather cosy and it worked just fine for a pair of newlyweds like themselves. A year ago, she would never have dreamed that she'd be sitting there, on that day, at the dining table in their very own place waiting to have a home-cooked meal with her husband, Alex Whitman. But there she was and it was extremely real; she was living it and sure as hell loving it.

A few minutes later, Alex emerged from the room in a clean T-shirt and a fresh pair of shorts. He plopped himself down on the chair in front of Isabel. "There, now I smell of your mango soap and citrus shampoo."

"That's my girl," Isabel teased. "Now, let's dig in, shall we? So how was your day, huh?"

Alex poked his fork into the omelette and tore a piece off. "I would like to say it was good but we lawyers rarely see good days, I'm afraid," he said with a sigh.

"What about that McAllister kid?" Isabel asked, concerned. The boy, who had been caught for drug possession, had taken up a bit of her husband's attention and she wanted to be kept up-to-date on the matter.

"He pleaded guilty. Got a few months in reform. He's a good kid, Isabel; he just fell onto the wrong track," Alex explained, almost regretfully. He remembered the look on Christian McAllister as he was walking out of the courtroom; something in his eyes was shining - a new light like that of one reborn, one might say. "I really hope things work out for him."

"I hope so, too," Isabel piped, giving his hand a brief squeeze before turning back to her food. She knew how much her husband’s new job meant to him now that he had spent more time on it. He had complained at first, fretted that he ‘just didn’t do kids’. Now, it had become his life. "So what's it like, huh, husband of mine, now that you’ve been working with kids for some time?"

Alex thought for a moment. "It really shows you life from a different perspective, you know? Somehow, it brings me back to a time long forgotten, when I was a child myself. And it seems like this job isn't just a job; it's a mission to protect the younger generation."

Isabel sprinkled pepper on her omelette, marvelling at Alex's words. Sometimes she felt that he was letting himself get too involved. He couldn’t keep letting himself think that he could save the world; there was a difference between what was ideal and what was reality. Still, she was proud of him- she had made no mistake marrying Alex Whitman. This was the man she loved - the crazy, crazy man who loved the world.