Fanfic - Max/Liz
"Scar Tissue"
Part 2
by Najalia
Disclaimer: I don’t own ROSWELL or the songs “Hemorrhage” (In My Hands), “Last Time”, “Had a Bad Day”, “Scar Tissue”, “Other Side”, “Sick Cycle Carousel”, “Hanging By a Moment”, “Everything” “Somewhere in Between”, “Simon”, “Jelly”, “Light in Your Eyes”, “Where We Were Before”, “I Wanna Be There”, “Hold Her Close”, If You’re Gone”, “Bed of Lies”, “Leave”, “Stairway to Heaven”, “Here’s to the Night” or “The Space Between”. (The aforementioned songs are all owned by either private bands or music corporations/enterprises. Also, I only make mention of these songs or use small excerpts in this fan fiction, though there are a few that I use in full) Please don’t sue me!!
Summary: This takes place right after Tess left with her and Max’s baby. This fan fiction is told completely from Liz’s points of view. I am not going to give anymore away, but if you don’t like complicated stories that deal with a bunch of stuff at the same time or have a whole part about horses, then don’t read this (though it has a happy ending for all of you dreamers! And some, not all, but some of it is fluff!).
Category: Max/Liz
Rating: R
Author's Note: This is my idea of a perfect set up and situation for the characters, so don’t hate me because I gave Liz horses (because I have a pony, named Lord Byron, of my own) or a BMW-Z3 (which is my car) or have her listening to all of the previously mentioned songs (Though they are some of the best songs that have ever existed in my opinion!) What can I say? I am a preppy Abercrombie&Fitch rock girl! So enjoy and feedback is welcome, but nothing nasty, just constructive criticism or upbeat comments please! Oh, one more thing. Sorry if this gets really wordy and scientific because I am a bigger science freak that “Liz” is and it’s really difficult for me to write a story without adding some major scientific piece! Also, I apologize for my name being so weird, but what can I say, I’m Spanish! If any of you out there speak Spanish and have any comments, please feel free -escribir a mi en espanol-! Esta mue bueno practico para mi. Furthermore, even if you are learning Spanish as a second language, feel free to write a Spanish/English response and if I can find the time, I will correct it and send the e-mail back to you! (For all you non-Spanish speakers I wrote “To write to me in Spanish. It is very good practice for me.) *A fictional town next to Roswell ** Grooming board is when you have a personal assistant for you and your horse(s) that does things such as getting the horse(s) ready to be ridden, bathing them, exercising them when you don’t have time and doing everything else for them. They also do things for you like getting your helmet and chaps or doing your hair or helping you put on or take off tall boots. *** Standard Boarding is when your horse(s) have everything done for them excluding being groomed, bathed or exercised by someone other than you. Also, you do not have your own personal assistant who does things for you **** Longer and more proper names used only in the show ring (Rose= Desert Rose, Moonie=Paint the Moon, Rainy=Kiss the Rain and Ty=Hang Tyme ***** An English saddle is a piece of equipment that does not have a horn and is the type of saddle used in the Olympics. (A bridle is the other major piece of tack or horse equipment that goes on their heads and has a metal piece or the bit that goes in their mouths and two long pieces of leather or reins that are also connected to the bit to give the rider control over the horse) ***** Polo wraps are long strips of fleece that are used to wrap the area of a horses leg between the knee and the pastern or ankle for extra support especially in jumping and trail, field and desert riding. ****** Bell boots are rubber bell shaped boots that sit over the hoof or foot to prevent a horse from pulling a shoe ***** **To tack up is to put the equipment onto the horse ****** **One hand= four inches *********The withers are the point in which a horses shoulder bones meet on their backs ********** A trot is a two-beat gate that is one speed faster from walking. It is much like running for a person. The other gates are the canter, a three-beat gate, and the gallop, a four-beat gate, respectfully. *********** Posting is an up and down movement that is performed by a rider at the trot that is synchronized with the horses gate. One beat you sit, the next you rise and so on and so forth. ************ A cross rail is a type of jump in which two poles cross to form a horizontal “X”.
“Liz?” Max breaks the quiet.


“I’m glad you asked me to stay”

“I’m glad too”

“Nothings going to ever be the same again, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that even though we know everything, the fact is that I slept with Tess and I got her pregnant, I don’t think that you will ever be able to forgive me for that.”

At this, I stop Rose and turn in my saddle to face Max, who has pulled up beside me.

“I forgave you the night that you were going to leave.”

“You did? But why? I still can’t forgive myself. Liz I hurt you more than I ever thought possible and I would give anything to take that night back, so that I could lose my innocents to you, so we could lose ours to each other. The fact is that I can’t and that kills me.”

“Max, I forgave you because I realize that it wasn’t entirely your fault. I understand that you were partially under Tess’ influence by power, and that you weren’t allowed to contain yourself. You were basically seduced into it by mind control and you can’t argue that because we proved it. And it only hurt initially. What I did to you was ten times worse. I LIED to you, Max! Yet I have still forgiven myself. And I don’t care that you’re not a virgin, it actually doesn’t bother me the way that I thought it would. Do you know why?”

Max shakes his head.

“Because I know that you didn’t love her. You had SEX with her, but if we were to ever reach that level, it wouldn’t be considered sex, it would mean a thousand times more; we would make love. And even those words aren’t strong enough to describe the pure passion and devotion that we have for one another. Never have I experienced something as resilient as our love. It has endured the hardest of times yet I know that it hasn’t been tainted thus this far and I hope that it never will be. I love you with all of my heart and soul; with all of my life. A breath without you near is like a breath of gaseous products, void of the eighth and most important element to human respiration. And therefore, it is no longer air, but rather a jumble of Nitrogen, Carbon dioxide and various other gaseous chemicals that are deadly if inhaled in large amounts without the presents of a neutralizer. You are my neutralizer, my base, settling my acidic tendencies, lulling my reaction to a simple salt. You know that and understand that. And I know in my heart of hearts that we are soul mates, Max. You and Tess may have been soul mates in a different lifetime, but in this one, you are mine as I am yours. You once told me that we choose our own destinies, Max, and do you know what? You were right. I have chosen mine, and it’s you.” I finish and look away as tears begin to well up in my eyes.

Max jumps off Ty and in three long strides is by my side. He holds his arms out and I fall into them, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist. He brings his lips down to mine and kisses me with more passion than I ever dreamed possible. This goes on for several minutes until we part for air and he sets me down gently onto the desert floor.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Liz. I couldn’t agree with you more.” He whispers into my hair as he holds me tightly against his muscular chest.

“So does this mean what I think it means?” I question, staring up into his glistening mocha-honey eyes that reflect his soul with perfect clarity.

“I think so,” He responds, meeting my gaze and then my lips for another intense kiss.

We continue our heated make-out session for the next five minutes or so until Rose playfully nudges me to get my attention back to her.

“A bit tired of watching Max and me get at it?” I ask my horse as I pull away from Max and bump my forehead to hers.

“I think that we should get riding, because we’re not gonna get back to Roswell until well passed three in the morning. And even though it’s summer, I don’t think that my parents or yours will condone that.” Max says matter-of-factly as he swings himself back atop Ty.

I follow his action and in a few short seconds time, we are trotting (***********) freely through the flat desert.

“Hey Max?” I ask playfully, slowing my posting (************) in order to slow Rose’s pace down.

“What, Lizzy?”

“You up for a race?”

“Why not? But you know that I’m gonna win, hands down. I mean, I’m on your prized Thoroughbred hunter/jumper, whom you bought off the track a mere two years ago. If you really want to though, I suppose that it might be fine,” Max responded in a wishy-washy tone.

“Rose might not be my fastest horse, but she is an Arabian, so I think that her stamina is all there and so is her spirit, so we’ll see who’s the best,” I retort swiftly.

I pull Rose to a halt and Max does the same with Ty and we rise up off their backs, in preparation to gallop. They begin to prance excitedly beneath us, knowing of the thrill to come and grab at their bits, willing us to let them run.

I turn to Max, and he signals that he is ready. “On your mark, get set, GO!” I scream as I dig my heels into Roses sides and thrust my hands forward, grabbing mane so that I don’t fall backwards in the process.

We race across the barren and desolate desert flats and let the endorphins flow freely to our brains as the adrenaline pumps relentlessly through our blood streams. I pull ahead of him and let a loud shriek of joy escape my mouth at my victory. I regain my composure and focus my attention on my horse, willing her onward. I notice a slab of stone about eighty feet ahead of us that is approaching fast. I thrust my right hand in the air and hold it their, signaling for Max to slow down because we are coming upon some sort of obstacle. It is about four feet in length, three and three fourths in height and four feet in width, a perfect fence to jump. I see my distance and balance Rose, who is now at a steady canter, pull my shoulders back, force my heels downward and move my hands slightly up her neck so that I don’t catch her in the mouth over the jump. I keep my composure as she begins the initial take-off, letting her jump up to me, with the power and grace that the Desert Arabian line, which looks more like your super-fancy one hundred thousand dollar, Florida show pony, than your typical Arab, have encompassed since birth. I soar over the fence with the modishness of a prima ballerina, and she with the perfect posture of the top horses in the world. We landed softly and cantered on, finally slowing to a walk about three hundred feet from the stone slab. Max was already waiting there, for he had avoided the jump at the cost of falling off or looking like an idiot who didn’t know what they were doing. I chuckled at this and shook my head.

“For a guy who was so positive that he was going to win the race, you don’t look to victorious!” I tease.

“Ha, ha, ha. Okay, fine, you win. But it’s only ‘cause you’re a better rider than I am!” He retaliates.

“I might be a better rider than you, but that’s no excuse for losing,” I tease, twirling the tail of my braid around my right index finger.

“C’mon you, we better get back if we both have another horse to ride,” Max, otherwise known as Mr. Responsibility, says, turning Ty around.

“Yeah. Oh my God, we really better get back, it’s already eleven forty-five!” I gasp, urging Rose into a strong canter.

We cut back through the desert, traveling on a strait path towards home. Within thirty minutes time we are back at the stables, with two extremely tired horses. Hopping off, Max replenishes their strength, and once back in the barn, we quickly untack the two, who are in perfect condition, thanks to Max, and tack up Moonie and Rainy. Seeing that Rainy is a fourteen-hand pony, and Moonie is a seven-hand horse, I take Rainy and Max takes Moonie.

“I think that it’s too late to take these two into the desert, so why don’t we ride in the indoor ring?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me,” Max responds, turning Moonie around and begins to head towards the arena.

“Besides, I have to jump Rainy because we have a show coming up in a few weeks.” I add, to justify my decision.

We arrive in front of yet another set of double doors and using the same code as before, open them. Max and I warm up quickly and after fifteen minutes of walking, trotting, cantering and jumping a few eighteen-inch cross rails (*************), we are ready to jump a course. The jumps are set at three feet, which is a perfect height for me, seeing as how they are the same size of the fences that I jump in competition, and a course has been pre-written on a blank sheet of paper and is tacked up on the corkboard against the west wall. I ride over to it and study the sheet for a few moments, memorizing each element of the course. After I believe that I know it well enough to ride, I run through it visually, pointing at each fence as I went.

I pick up a flowing, collected canter and circle in front of jumps one and six to completely prepare for my course. I approach the center of jump one and soar over it with perfect form. In five strides or steps, I am at the base of jump two and take it in the same fashion as one. I land and in two more strides take off over jump three, and balancing Rainy, turn the corners to jump fence four to five in a bending line consisting of four strides in between the jumps. I come out of the combination smoothly and recollect Rainy for the next set of two fences, to be taken in seven strides. I feel him getting strong out of the right corner, so using my shoulders; I sit up and steady him, keeping a rhythmic and balanced canter for the first element of the simple line. Landing off of jump seven, I focus all of my thoughts on my approach to fence eight, which is a difficult angle to achieve at such a pace. I quickly calculate the distance and the original angle in relations to the outer perimeter of the ring and in a few seconds time, determine the exact place in which I must turn to execute a perfect ending to my already perfect course. I fly over the last fence with an immense amount of poise and grace, and complete my course with another circle in front of jumps one and six. Max claps and whistles as I bring Rainy back to a walk and he jumps off of Moonie so that we can put the two animals back in their stalls. He restores both of them back to full strength once we are back in the stable area and we quickly untack them because we want to get home and I leave a note for my grooms to clean my tack in the morning. After everyone is settled and all of our equipment is away, Max and I walk hand in hand out of the stable. Back in the cool night air, he and I part with a fiery kiss and promise to meet at my house once back in Roswell. He looks longingly towards my Z3 and flashes me a hopeful smile. I sigh and hand over my keys but not before threatening to not kiss him for a week if he even breathes wrong on it. However, he reminds me, it wouldn’t matter because he could fix it with his powers and not to mention that he doesn’t think that I could last another week without kissing him. I give him a playful shove towards my Beemer and get into his trusty Jeep, taking the lead out of the parking area.

We are the only two people on the road and the cool night breeze feels even more wonderful than it did on my way to The Ridge. Without realizing it, a smile of pure happiness spreads across my face and I turn on the radio to my favorite station (and coincidently Max’s), UFOR, Roswell’s answer to alternative and punk rock (not to mention some really great classics like “Stairway to Heaven”, by Led Zeppelin). “Hanging by a Moment” by Lifehouse, one of my all time favorite bands, fills the Jeep with its upbeat melody and more important, it’s all too appropriate lyrics. Behind me, I hear the distinct sound of my stereo system’s bass boost kick in and now not only were our cars and heads filled with the song, but so is the surrounding desolate desert.

The last chords float through the air as I pull Max’s Jeep into the alley next to my fire escape and he parks my precious BMW in its space behind the restaurant, alongside my parents’ cars. I wait at the bottom of my ladder for him and together, we scurry up it. I fall inexorably into his strong arms, not able to get close enough to him, to his warmth, to his touch, to his soul. Instantaneously, his lips find mine and we kiss. His urgent, relentless kisses send a wave of unavoidable need through my body and I pull him down on the floor of my balcony, which is covered in blankets, and on top of me. After ten minutes of this, he reluctantly pulls away and stares into my deep russet eyes, a question laced into his honey-mocha soul windows. Our connection is so deep now that I know exactly what it is that he is trying to ask me.

“I’m ready, that is if you are,” I answer his unspoken query.

“I am. I have been for what has seemed to be a lifetime,” He responds, now kneeling so that he is straddling my abdomen.

He rises to his feet and offers me a hand. I take it and we climb through my window, being quiet so that we do not wake my parents. Max swipes his hand over the room and immediately, every candle is flickering with small, hot flames. The room now basks in dazzling orange illuminations and our shadows fall perfectly upon the back wall. Though we are standing at arms length, our silhouettes seem to be eternally connected, and I smile at this, for that is what we are; everlastingly conjoined. He leans down and kisses me again, this time with slow and sensual passion rather than strong, imperative lust. I reach for his shirt, which smells strongly of a horse (then again, our entire bodies do, so it’s not like it matters), and pull it over his head and he does the same for me. While still kissing me he frees my hair from it’s braid and gently caresses it until it is down around my shoulders again, smooth and strait from his powerful touch, and the scent of horses is gone from both of us, replaced by the smell of our soaps and shampoos. He pulls me down on top of him and the bed, still kissing me, never letting go. I know that I should feel nervous or excited or scared, but instead, I am overcome by complete tranquility and pure, undeniable love for my soul mate. Surprisingly, he feels the exact same way, which is a great comfort. By now, all of our clothes, excluding our underwear, have been discarded and lay randomly around the bed. Max’s hands drift down my back and begin to massage my lower lumbar, sending electrical currants pulsating throughout my body. We slip under the covers and prepare to take our relationship to a place that it has never been before.

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