Author: X_tremeroswellian
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, etc. I'm not making money, this is for entertainment only.
Rating: R (for language, sexual content, and violence)
Author's Note: This is the sequal to "Matters of Trust." If you haven't read that, than I advice reading it before reading this, because otherwise you'll be really confused.
Spoilers: Up through "Blood Brothers" of the tv show, the first five books of Roswell High by Melinda Metz, and my fanfic, "Matters of Trust."
Background: This takes place four years after the final events of "Matters of Trust." Liz, Max, Michael, Maria, Isabel and Alex have gone to the fictional town of Blueridge, Colorado, for college. Blueridge is a small suburb of Denver.
Dedication: To everyone who emailed me with their thoughts and feelings on "Matters of Trust," but especially to Linda, Mel, Betsey and Bec! Thanks, guys!
Other: Feedback is always appreciated greatly! :)
Ghosts (Part Three)
Liz grabbed the baseball bat that was next to her dorm room door. She always kept it there just in case someone tried to break in, or if there was a fire and she had to break the window to get out.
She swallowed hard and heard the scream again. She gripped the bat tighter, her fist clenched so hard her knuckles were white. She reached for the door handle and pulled it open. She instantly took a step back as she heard the laughter from down the hall.
Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath, placing the baseball bat back in its spot and leaning out into the hallway.
"Hey, Liz!" Tonya, the girl who lived on the other side of her said, grinning as her boyfriend, Pete, carried her piggy-back to her room.
Liz exhaled and nodded an acknowledgement.
"Hey, Liz," Pete said, meeting her eyes for a moment and then smiling crookedly.
"You look like you just saw a ghost," Tonya commented, sliding off Pete's back and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I heard screaming."
"Oh. Sorry. We didn't mean to scare you, did we, Tonya?" Pete asked, his eyes never leaving Liz's.
"Nope," Tonya agreed.
"That's okay." Liz stepped back into her room, and closed the door. She heard Tonya say, "freak," before she and Pete went into her room.
Liz closed her eyes and let her head drop, concentrating on breathing.
"Hey," a voice said from behind her.
Liz gasped and spun around. "Michael!"
He blinked and stepped back. "You okay?"
"You scared me!" she accused.
"Sorry. I-uh-brought you dinner. Max had to work on a paper at the computer lab and Isabel and Maria had research to do at the library, so Max asked me to bring you a plate back," Michael explained. He held out a plate of food to her and a can of soda.
She took a deep breath and accepted the plate. "Thanks." She sat down at her desk and took a sip of pepsi. Liz looked down at the food--it was a ham and cheese sandwich, with some potato chips and dip.
Michael sat down on the edge of her bed and watched her carefully. She was just picking at her food and her hand was trembling. "Liz?"
She looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"Are you all right? You're shaking."
Liz looked at her hand. She was shaking. She dropped her sandwich back onto her plate and stood up. "I'm okay."
He watched her pace back and forth for a moment. "Then why are you pacing?"
She stared at him in confusion. "I am?"
Michael stood up. "Max said you got called out on a case last night. Is that what's wrong?" he asked quietly.
Liz swallowed hard and looked away. "I don't know. Maybe." She sighed and then sat down on her bed. She put her head in her hands. "Have you ever felt like something was just...off, somehow?"
He sat down next to her. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Like there was something wrong but you couldn't figure out what it was...That's how I feel right now. I don't know why, I can't explain it." She sighed again.
Michael looked down at the floor. "Have you talked to Max about this?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"How can I explain something I don't understand?" Liz stood up. "It's just this feeling...I can't even identify what the feeling is exactly."
"Have you ever tried painting?" Michael asked suddenly.
She turned to face him. "What?"
"Painting. I think that's why I chose art for my major. I can get all the stuff out that I can't explain, the stuff that no one else really understands...Have you ever tried it?"
"No..." Liz said slowly.
"It's very therapuetic." He looked up at her.
"Wait. You think this has to do with Uncle Charlie?" She shook her head. "No, Michael. That's all over now. I haven't even seen him for four years."
"Yeah, but think about it, Liz. Where do you work?"
Liz paused. She was interning at the off-campus, local sexual assault clinic. "No. It's not that."
Michael met her eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure," she said, her words sharper than she'd meant for them to be. She shook her head again. "That's not what this is about, Michael."
"Okay." He stood up and walked to the door. Then he paused and faced her again. "Liz, just because what happened was a long time ago doesn't mean that it hurts less. Believe me, I know." Their eyes met for a moment and then he left the room.
Liz stared after him and then wrapped her arms around herself. Suddenly she was feeling very cold.