FanFic - Crashdown After Hours
Part 8
by jezebel
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Summary: Aw, come on. You must know by now.
Category: After Hours
Rating: NC-17
Liz's new job sucked, to put it lightly.

She had never cared for waitressing, even in her father's café. But with no credentials or even ID, she couldn't get a better job. It paid six bucks an hour plus tips, which was pretty good for a waitress. But the people in the nondescript diner where she worked were so incredibly rude that she was nearly reduced to tears every day.

Max had a job at a factory, which hired him for twice what Liz made without question. She told him to go to the factory with his sleeves rolled up, and he did. It got him the job immediately. It involved mostly heavy lifting, and by the end of the first day his well-muscled arms were extremely sore.

He drove grouchily back to their one-room apartment. After all the bills, they had enough money to buy a mattress, which they laid carefully on the floor. Anything left after the essentials went into savings. They never knew when they might have to run again. Their savings didn't reside in a bank, but instead inside of the crate they used as an underwear drawer. It was unsafe, but no more so than opening a bank account that could be used to track them.

Elk Grove wasn't a bad town, all in all. It was a little dry, but they were used to that. It was also a small community just outside the larger one of Sacramento. Liz had learned a lot of local gossip within a few weeks of arriving. Luckily, she didn't know of any including a young, mysterious couple who appeared out of nowhere.

Max didn't care for it. Liz knew he wanted to be at home, looking for Izzy and Michael. But she wasn't about to let that happen. On this particular night, more than a month after they abandoned Roswell, she stayed late to work some overtime.

Max arrived home to find their singular room cold and empty. He flipped on the light switch and stepped inside, tossing his coat carelessly on the floor.

"Max Evans?"

Max jumped. "Who's there?"

A figure stepped out of the shadows. "It's me."

Max squinted. "Topolsky?"

"I've been searching for you," she said earnestly. "I have to say it didn't take long."

"Gee, thanks." He looked at her, scrutinizing her purpose. "Why are you here?"

She stepped closer. Max reached into his back pocket for the knife he had carried since leaving Roswell. The last thing he needed to do was use his powers around her. "I have something to tell you. You, and Liz."

"Liz isn't here," he said.

She shrugged. "You can tell her later. Both of you are in serious danger," she said ominously.

Max almost laughed. "Why is that? We haven't seen anyone here."

Topolsky shook her head. "They know where you are. They're waiting."

"For what?"

"For Liz to get pregnant, or sick, or both. They've been doing experiments, you know."

Max could feel the color drain from his face. "On whom?"


Meanwhile, Liz was having a terrible time at work. The late shift was her least favorite time to work. Not only that, but she had begun to feel sick. Her head was spinning and she was in a constant state of nausea.

One of her coworkers, and one of the few nice ones, stopped, put her tray down, and touched Liz's shoulder. "Marjorie? Are you okay?"

Liz put a hand on her forehead and rubbed her temples. "I'll be fine."

The woman, whose name was Kandy, smiled faintly. "You're sure?"

Liz nodded silently. Kandy shrugged and went back to waiting tables. Liz felt a little bad; Kandy was about her age and probably the only person here who she could consider a friend. But Liz wasn't sure what was wrong, and she didn't want to say anything.

She stepped into the back room and looked for her boss, a stern woman in her forties. She was near the exit, sorting cans of generic pie filling. "Mrs. Anderson? Can I go home early?"

"No. We're understaffed tonight."

"Well, I think I'm going to throw up all over."

"Then go in the bathroom."

Liz quivered with outrage. Her father never would have treated an employee like this. Ever, no matter what the circumstances. "You know what, Mrs. Anderson? I quit!"

Mrs. Anderson stood up, her huge bulk nearly knocking over one of the shelves. "You little bitch! You can't quit on me!"

"Yes, I can. I am. Goodbye."

Liz turned and walked out, throwing her apron in a heap by the entrance. Several patrons turned to stare at her as she made her way through the parking lot. By the time she reached the bus station, she was in tears. What was she going to do? Sure, she could get another waitressing job, but it would undoubtedly be as bad as the one she just left. Max couldn't support them alone.

Suddenly she doubled over, grasping the edge of the station bench. "Oh, God, what's wrong with me?" she moaned.

She looked around. No one was there. It was terribly cold, and she had forgotten her coat. There was a pharmacy across the street, and the bus wasn't due for another twenty minutes.

She stepped cautiously into the street and entered the family-run pharmacy. Maybe she could find something to suppress the pukey feeling she'd had for the last few hours. There were rows and rows of cheap medications, and expensive ones, but she didn't know what to buy. She stopped at the onset of another wave of nausea, and when she looked up, she saw the sign.

"Think you're pregnant? Find out in just one step!" the sign blared cheerfully. It was a picture of a mother and her baby in a sunny field, with the words emblazoned over them. Liz gasped.

"Oh that what it is?" She touched her stomach, and suddenly remembered. Max, their last night in Yosemite, touching her stomach in his sleep. Had he somehow known? She had felt the twinge inside of her. Had that been what this was?

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