|"Die. Tess. Die"
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Summary: Liz and Maria's fondest wish comes true, but at what price?
Authors Note: Dedication: To Hussies, Lollies, and CandyGirls.
Spoilers: "TLV", 4 Squared and possibly Destiny
|Tess Harding came to Roswell two months ago and stole my best friend's soulmate.
She came into town with her perky attitude, her tight clothes, and an agenda.
She wanted Max Evans from Day One and she got him with her mumbo jumbo, her wicked wiles, and her "fuck me" pumps.
She didn't care about hurting Liz, about the fact that Liz had been there first.
She didn't care about the nights Lizzy cried into my shoulder and we plotted, together, ways to kill an interstellar homewrecker.
All she cared about was destiny. About taking. About making Max hers with her mouth and her hands and her smug love of sugar.
"Die, Tess. Die." It became my mantra. Michael and I finally went all the way two nights ago.
We made love. I don't know why we hadn't done it before, but I do know why we did it then.
It was the night Tess died.
He touched me with her blood on his hands, left red handprints on my waist and my stomach after he pulled my tank top over my head and tore at the buttons of my jeans.
No silver prints for us. Nothing that pure.
I held onto him as his body shook with both sobs and passion. He was the virgin before that night, not me, but he led me in bed.
He led me in loss. He lost his virginity *twice*, I think.
Once when Agent Pierce's bullets ripped into her body and the second time when he ripped into mine.
He cried both times.
I watched Liz get shot last September. I thought I would never see anything more horrible than the image of her blue and silver uniform with a red stain spreading across the stomach.
But Liz got back up. The blood went away and the bullet hole closed. Max put his hand on her and she got back up. No hands could save Tess.
Isabel, Max, Michael. Coated in her bright red and dull black blood, beating on her chest, pleading with her to stay with them.
She didn't stay and Michael disappeared for a few minutes.
We could all hear Pierce screaming. It echoed across the army base. He begged for his life.
Liz flinched. Isabel just moved into Alex's arms and sobbed.
And Max stood there. Lost. He's *still* lost.
Michael came back with calm eyes, knelt down, and wrapped his arms around the girl I always called a "boyfriend-stealing skank."
I will never forget how it feels when he holds me--with his big gentle hands and arms.
And I will never forget how it looked when he held *her*.
Her pale face...her wavy hair matted and red instead of blond. There was more blood than body. More bone showing than skin. I know she still looked beautiful to him and to Max.
I remember joking with Liz in the break room at the CrashDown.
"Maybe Tess will step off the curb and get hit by a truck. Maybe *someone* will start spiking her sugar with arsenic or call the FBI to come haul her away. And they'll dissect her without anesthetic! And then you'll get Max back, Lizzy! All yours again."
I remember that and then I remember Michael clutching her to his chest and sobbing. His gray t-shirt isn't gray anymore.
No amount of washing can get out the stain. And no amount of time can erase his hoarse words.
"No, Tess! Live, dammit. Don't you dare leave me. Don't. Leave. Me."
She left him.
She left them all.
And Michael and I came home and made love.
I love him. I love his hair. I love his smile. I love his bad attitude and his moods. I love to kiss the chip on his shoulder. I love everything about him.
Except her. I didn't love her.
No, instead I shot her dirty looks and muttered, "Die, Tess. Die."
So, Liz lost Max to a "boyfriend-stealing skank." Does it really matter?
Michael lost his only blood relative. His long lost sister. To four bullets.
To death. I wanted her dead. Now she is. And Michael makes love to me wishing he was dead, too.
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