FanFic - Max/Liz
"Darkest Days"
Part 9
by Ash
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the original characters from “Roswell.“ They belong to Melinda Metz and Jason Katims and the wonderful people at WB. I have invented a slew of characters to go with ‘em, though and I hope the originals aren’t too insulted to have them mix and mingle and perhaps fall in love here or there.
Summary: This has become an alternate universe over the course of the other three stories. It was in line with the show through “Sexual Healing” and then my own version of Tess hit the atmosphere in “Captivated by Darkness.“ Two years later, we picked up the story and began the mythology with “Fight the Break of Dawn,“ where Liz was transformed and they met Christopher in L.A. Next came “Fading Into Twilight” which was NOT a wedding fic, but did contain the ill-fated nuptials which led our characters to this point. Now, in my AU, remember that I diverge from the show and Sheriff Valenti is still an unknown quantity, Pierce doesn’t exist, my Tess is very dead (and deservedly so) and the Evans and Mrs. Parker know the truth about the aliens.
Category: Max/Liz
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: Dedication: To Sheeijan and Abs, both of whom are excellent ‘backers and obsessors. Title comes from Remy Zero’s “Yellow Light,” featured in The White Room episode from season one.
Liz awoke in a stupor. Everything was cottony, hazy in her mind. Her head ached and her stomach felt like she’d been stabbed with a steak knife. It was burning and throbbing. She groaned and heard an immediate response. “Liz... you okay?”

She forced her eyes open and blinked at the sight of Alex’s concerned face over hers. “Alex,” she started to say, but her tongue felt thick and heavy. “I can’t-” she swallowed. “What happened?”

“Uh, good question,” he sat back, out of her view. Liz tried to roll over, but it wasn’t easy and the stab of pain in her stomach was almost debilitating. She finally raised up enough to see Alex sitting against the wall, holding a hand to the back of his head.

“Alex,” she whispered, rising to her knees. “You okay?” He nodded with a grimace and she realized he was hurting as much as she was.

“Just holding in my brains. Figured I might need ‘em sometime.”

She crawled over to him, trying to ignore the absolute wretchedness of her body. She leaned her back to the wall beside Alex, and reached down to lift the end of her tank top, revealing the deep, bloody gash where she‘d been shot.

“Oh god,” Alex said in a small voice.

“I don’t think it’s very deep,“ Liz ignored the pain and probed the wound carefully, seeing that the blood had already clotted and prevented more blood loss. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m just giving my brain a little fresh air back here. Of course, losing blood is a definite downside.“ He pulled his hand out from his head and Liz was horrified to see the blood covering it. “I think I fought back at some point. Hard to remember.”

“Don‘t,“ she said, reaching out to push his hand out of sight. “You‘ll pass out.”

Alex nodded vaguely. “Oh, right.”

Liz watched him for a moment, finally deciding that he was okay for the moment. “Any idea who they are?”

“Not a one, unless it’s Kyle’s buddies who want to question more innocent people, who, I‘d like to point out,” his voice rose in pained anger, “were doing nothing more harmful than sharing a freakin‘ pizza with a friend when attacked by extras from the movie ‘Outbreak‘.”

“I know, Alex,” Liz said as she looked around the room. “But this isn’t anything like what I saw in the flashes from Kyle. That was a lab. This is...” She didn’t know how to describe it. It was a tiled room, floor, ceiling and walls. There was one smooth white section up near the top of one wall. That might be an observation room, but it didn’t look anything like the one Kyle had seen above him.

She turned her attention back on Alex. “Are you hurting bad?” Maybe she could heal him a little, not enough so that anyone would notice, but enough to take away the pain. She suspected that her body had already been healing itself a little, the way her stomach looked.

“No. I’m okay,” he reassured her, his eyes fixed on the absolute whiteness around them.

Liz gave the room another glance. Sterile. That‘s what it looked like. All clean and disinfected and- blindingly white. It was even clean of noise- completely silent, except for Alex’s breathing beside her.

She shivered, trying to stop herself from remembering how she got here. Whatever this place was, she was glad that she wasn’t here alone. Her hand slipped over to Alex and she felt his long fingers wrap themselves around it. They felt warm and solid and real. It was so quiet, like the world was waiting with them...

“Maybe we should check for a door.”

Liz managed a teary smile. “Yeah, like they’re going to go to all this trouble and then leave the door unlocked.”

“Liz, it’s going to be okay,” Alex whispered. “We’re just along for the ride. Max will find us.”

Her throat constricted, making her voice husky. She couldn‘t think about Max right now; she’d be basket case in two seconds. “Alex, we don’t even know where we are.“

His hand tightened around hers. “Just try Michael and tell him what’s happened.“

Liz hesitated.

Alex turned and speared her with his blue eyes. “This is not the time for Ms. Independence to rear her ugly, self-reliant head. We need help. Do whatever you have to do to get Michael to understand that.“

Liz hesitated again, then nodded. She hated to do it. It would make Max crazy. And Michael- and everyone else. But the reality of the place was seeping into her bones. Whatever these people had planned for them- Liz cut that thought off quickly and focused her mind.


He was still asleep. She had never tried to awaken him before-

A loud siren going off made her convulse in terror. Liz threw her hands over her ears and grimaced as she tried to block out the jarring noise. It went on and on, and she saw Alex yelling something back at it.

Then it stopped. Liz sighed in relief, gradually putting her hands down.

“Subjects HM-354 and FA-3, walk forward and discard your clothing in the receptacle bins,” said a bland voice. It sounded like a loudspeaker was in the room, but Liz couldn’t see it anywhere. The white receptacle bins were over by the white wall. Not that it mattered, because there was no way these clothes were coming off. Period.

“Did he just call us subjects,” Alex cracked a nervous grin. “So do we get to pick which ones we are? ‘Cause I know you’re picking Biology but I need time to pick just the right one for me.”

Liz couldn’t smile back. Her eyes slid around the room frantically. There had to be some way out of this.

“Subjects walk forward and discard your clothing or it will be removed from you forcibly.”

Alex muttered a curse under his breath. He pushed himself to his feet and reached a hand out to help her up. “Come on, let’s just do what they say.”

Liz stared at him in amazement. “I can’t.”

Alex stared at her a moment. “You have to. We don’t have a choice.”

He turned and started stripping off his shirt, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself.

Liz covered her head with her arms and tried to process that thought. But she was already shaking her head and the arms came back down. “No, I don‘t have to. I can‘t.”

Immediately, doors clanged open in the corner. Two men in the plastic neon yellow suits stepped in, small wooden sticks in their hands. A buzzer sounded and the door slammed shut behind them.

“Strip subject FA-3,” the loudspeaker shot out.

The men started toward Liz. She was already on her feet, pressing back against the wall, barely suppressing the instinct to run. Don’t show fear.

Alex stepped in and held up his hands as they walked closer. “Hey- hey, just give her a minute, okay?” With stunning efficiency, the man in front slammed the end of the stick in Alex’s stomach and he bent over, gasping. Before Liz could even react, the man clipped him on the neck with the stick and Alex was on the floor.

Liz held her hands in front of her as they moved in, dropping their sticks with a loud clatter. She was already breathing shallowly. One man grabbed her arm and spun her around. Liz gasped as he forced his forearms through the crook of her elbows and held them back firmly. She was struggling to get free when the other yellow man picked up her legs by the ankles and separated them with a jerk. The faceless helmet came closer as he moved his hands to her thighs and pushed in between her legs.

Fury and fear slammed into her. With one hand, the man unfastened her jeans and ripped them off before she could even catch her breath. Her legs fell back to the floor as the man walked over to the wall and tossed her jeans in a white can pointedly. She felt the nakedness of her legs and panic gripped her. She forced her lungs to loosen up between breaths. He was walking back toward her, and Liz struggled again, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Power was beginning to coil inside her, begging to be released in her defense.

Alex groaned from the floor, pulling her attention for a moment.

But the man was coming closer, slowly, seeming to enjoy her fear. He paused just in front of her. She decided her course in seconds. Pushing off the hold on her arms, she shoved her legs out, connecting to his chest with a loud grunt. The impact sent him flying backwards in a graceful arch. Liz watched him land flat on his back with a satisfying thud. She felt the residual tingle of power and suddenly realized that she had used it to hit him.

Oh god.

“Subdue her,” the loudspeaker crackled.

The man behind her twisted her arms until she had no choice but to kneel with a pained gasp. He pressed her arms up so that she was bent to the floor over her knees. Again, she had to focus on her airways, which were closing up quickly.

She just sat there and breathed through the pain, listening to the sounds of the other man cursing and climbing to his feet.

“Alright, alright,” Alex’s voice was soft and in control. He must be standing again. “She’ll take them off. Just- let her go.”

Liz closed her eyes, nose almost to the floor, realizing that she had absolutely no control over the situation. Then she saw yellow neon feet in front of her and realized that she was really, really beginning to hate that color.

The hands on her arms relented slightly and she was pulled up to a kneeling position, right in front of the man she’d just kicked across the room. Liz swallowed, refusing to look up like some helpless puppy.

She was certain she was about to be beat to a bloody pulp. But she was simply pulled up to her feet and held back again. This time, when the man jerked her legs apart, it felt personal. He just stood there, his gloved hands holding her thighs. Hot waves of panic and anger rolled over her as he reached up and slowly pulled down her panties.

Liz kept herself absolutely still, afraid that any movement might cause retribution. He slid her panties down off her ankles and set her legs down. The hold on her arms was released and Liz stood on her own weakly, horrified at her half-nakedness. She moved her hands down to cover herself and then she felt one of the sticks slam into the back of her legs. Her knees hit the floor and her tank top was unceremoniously ripped off, yanking her arms up momentarily. She lowered them back down, tears coming to her eyes as she felt gloved fingers fumbling at the back of her bra. In seconds, it was stripped away and they left her alone. She heard the clothes quietly dropped in the bin and then the doors opened. A buzzer sounded and the doors clanged shut.

Liz sat back on her heels and curled over until her chest was touching her thighs. She ached all over from their grasping hands... and she was so cold.

She watched her tears drop on the hard, colorless tiles and listened to her ragged breathing.


Kyle rubbed the back of his neck wearily. The hospital was in absolute chaos. The CDC guys had blocked off one whole wing of the hospital, not letting anyone in or out except their yellow-coded doctors, nurses and security people.

At about 4:30 a.m., they had released a list of people held in their containment ICU. Liz Parker and Alex Whitman had been at the top of the list, along with Liz’s folks and six other people. Some lady went to go call the Whitmans.

Kyle was absolutely stunned. Liz wasn’t human anymore- if they had her this long, wouldn’t they know that by now? He couldn’t see all the way back to where Liz was being held, but he kept expecting any minute for people to start screaming or for Liz to blast the hell out of some well-meaning tech. So far, silence.

Kyle shook his head. He couldn’t just leave her in there, but how in the hell was he supposed to get her out?

According to the technicians, it looked bad for everyone involved. The deaths might have been caused by a mutation of the Ebola virus, something Kyle didn‘t know from a hole in the ground, but was impressive enough to pull gasps and cries out of the small gathering in the waiting room when it was mentioned. Whatever it was, it was bad and had no cure.

At the current moment, his Dad was in full freak-out mode. The smug jerk in the three-piece suit was tiredly explaining that Roswell needed to close the schools and cancel all funerals the next day, as well as re-route traffic around the site of the outbreak.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Kyle heard his Dad say, “This is not an outbreak.” He had been desperately working to un-panic the residents of Roswell, and getting absolutely no help from the CDC. He started to pace as he continued. “We have two dead bodies, neither of which I’ve been allowed to view as the chief law enforcement official of this county.” Kyle’s Dad stopped and waved the flyer in the tie guy’s face. “All I’ve seen is this damn paper you keep shoving in my face. What I want to see is bodies, witnesses and proof that you should be here at all. I want answers, dammit!”

Kyle felt like cheering. A few people standing around him did. “Give it to ‘em, Dad,“ he called out.

“Sheriff Valenti,” the gray-haired suit was condescending as hell. “I know that it’s easy to imagine yourself indispensable at times like these, but this is a medical emergency, not a rash of alien abductions.” His brittle smile turned into a frown. “Now, before this thing gets out of control and we have more dead bodies on our hands, I want you to get on the horn and let people know what is necessary to protect the citizens of this town. I have yet to even meet the Mayor. Get him up here, pronto. You‘ll get your answers as soon as we do.”

His Dad just nodded.


Kyle shook his head in frustration. He stood up and walked over to the plastic sheets forming the walls of the hastily constructed “containment ICU.” He could just barely see through the tube lining the walls. Was there a deadly disease being contained in there? Or just people being kept against their will, two of whom he was sworn to protect?

A plan was forming in his mind, but he needed some more brain power on this. It was 5:00 a.m. now. He’d give Joey another hour to sleep and then get her up here. She could help him think it through, he was sure. And help him decide whether or not to call Evans, although he was leaning toward not.

He could just see the headlines now: “Dead Teen Comes Back to Life to Save Fiance.”

This is some hell of a mess.

Part 8 | Index | Part 10
Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours
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