FanFic - Other
"What Remains Behind"
Part 1
by Joy Elizabeth
Disclaimer: I don't own them. No infringement is intended.
Summary: Okay, hard to do without spoiling it. It is a future fiction. There are different couples through the whole thing, but they are basically all there eventually. And there is angst up one side and down the other. I wrote most of it during the break after Sexual Healing, so you will have to disregard everything that has happened after that episode. No Tess, no BASST. And *most important* no answers.
Category: Other
Rating: PG-13
Authors Note: Okay, this is a strange piece of fiction. I sort of wrote it backwards. So if you'll just put yourself in my hands, I think that you'll like the ending. Secondly, part of this was inspired by Mnemosyne's amazing fiction, "Hideaway," which is, in my humble opinion, the best Roswell fan fiction ever written. Melissa-you rock! And finally, >>> denotes the start of a flashback, and <<< denotes the end of one.
Dedication: To my sister, April, who has read eighteen drafts of this thing. To Mnemosyne, Brendan, and Majandra for the inspiration. And to Brian, who somehow started this whole mess.

Music: I was inspired by Sarah McLachlan's "Surfacing" album, but "The City of Angels" soundtrack works, as does Dido's "No Angel."


"What ravages of spirit conjured this temptous rage, created you a monster broken by the rules of love, and fate has lead you through it, you do what you have to do... And I have the sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go, every moment marked with apparitions of your soul." -Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have To Do"


Liz Parker was pacing. Her suitcase laid open on the bed. What to take? She wasn't sure how long she would be gone. Black, lots of black. She still couldn't believe it.

Michael Guerin was dead. How was that possible? He was so young. And Michael, of all people. He had seemed indestructible. So full of rage. And emotion. There was a time that she hadn't known that. There had been a time when Michael Guerin was a closed book. But when he felt, he felt deeply. Over the years, she had seen sides to Michael Guerin that she never dreamed existed.

But now that was over. And all of his rage had been for nothing. He had died without the answers that he kept searching for. He had lived his whole life trying to get back to a place that wouldn't take him.

Liz Parker was pacing. What should she take? She heard the car horn outside the window. He was waiting. He had been packed since last night. Why was this taking so long? Finally, she grabbed a picture of the six of them. For Maria. It's all that she has left of their time together anymore. That and the journal that she keeps hidden. Usually in the bottom of her suitcase in the back of the closet. But today it was in the bottom drawer of the dresser, folded into her jeans. No one would be there to read it anyway. Not that it really matters anymore.


Alex Whitman was fighting sleep. He had come straight home from work and then they had left. He felt so tired. A lot older than twenty-six. But what could he expect? The unthinkable had happened. And if Michael Guerin could die, then there was no stopping death from coming. Because Michael had been the strongest person Alex knew. And he had just curled up and died.

He looked over at his wife. She was asleep. He wanted so desperately to join her. He forced his eyes open though. Washington to New Mexico is a long drive. And he had a deadline. A deadline that he couldn't miss. Maria was waiting.


Max Evans pulled in the driveway around four in the afternoon. His sister was with him. She tumbled out of the car, looking nothing like the beautiful girl that Maria remembered. Her hair was short now, and her eyes didn't sparkle as they once had. She was still beautiful to most people, but to Maria she had lost her luster. Maria had known Isabel Evans in her prime and there was simply no comparison now.

Isabel looked down the street at this place that she used to call home. Well, that wasn't completely true. The word home was reserved for a star that they couldn't find. Still, Roswell, New Mexico was as close to home as she had ever been.

Maria stared at them as they stretched and tried to make their legs work after the long drive. They had both aged far more than their years. His death had taken its toll. Even though he hadn't seen them in close to a year, he was still their brother. And now he was dead.

Isabel rang the doorbell. Why did the doorbell work? Didn't it know, didn't it realize that life was over? Nothing should work without him here. She didn't work without him here.

The Maria that opened the door was a shell of the bubbly young girl from high school. She was less than a shadow. Her skin was pale and her golden hair had gone flat. She was wearing all black from head to foot, her small body swimming in the too large dress. It hadn't been too large when she bought it six months ago. But she didn't eat now. And her tiny frame was withering away. It didn't matter, nothing did.

Isabel looked taken aback by her appearance. What had she expected? Maria was a ghost. She didn't live anymore, she existed. And she wondered why she bothered to do that.

"Hi," she finally managed to say. What did people say in this situation? Isabel couldn't remember. She just stared at her friend until she could take it no more. She reached out and enveloped her small body.

Maria hugged her back. She had missed her. But it didn't matter now, nothing did.

Isabel stepped back and too the hand of the young man who had come with her. "Maria, this is Paul. Paul, this is one of my best friends, Maria." She tried to smile. To lighten the mood. Paul was handsome. Tall like Isabel, with dark hair and features to offset her light ones. It was not the first time that Maria had met one of these guys.

"We look good together and we have fun," Isabel had told her the last time she had seen her. "I don't want anything more."

Maria couldn't understand. Michael could. He had said, "That's Izzy," when she had said something about it.

Isabel didn't want all of that forever stuff. She never had. She never pretended to get married as a child, she never fantasized about a wedding, she never thought up names for imaginary children. And it didn't have anything to do with leaving and not getting attached. She didn't care about attachments. Isabel liked earth. She wasn't like Michael, trying so hard to find answers. She would take them as they came, yes, but earth suited her just fine. Besides, he never found any answers anyway.

Paul was fun. And that was all that she needed or wanted. Maria didn't understand, but she tried to be as polite as possible. It didn't matter, nothing did.

Max finally walked into the room. He looked as broken as her. Maybe he was. He hugged her, told her that he had missed her. His eyes scanned the room. Michael was still everywhere. Pictures of him hung on the walls. The drawing he had done of Maria on their wedding day was hanging above the mantle. Tabasco sauce was still stocked in the cupboards. Max took in a deep breath and sighed. How could this have happened? After years of running and hiding and searching, for Michael to just give up and die was not fair. Max Evans was angry at his best friend. Because if Michael Guerin could die, then no one was safe. If Michael Guerin could die, then it truly meant, deep down, that the answers might never come.

Index | Part 2
Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours
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