Isabel feels Max drifting away
Rating: PG
Fandom: Roswell
Category: Max/Isabel
Disclaimer: Ice cream feeds the soul. Mine prefers the coffee kind. And oh, yeah, I don't own any of these characters. No infringement intended.
Notes: Please do not archive elsewhere without permission. Spoilers for the Pilot. This one's all Helen's doing. That and the Outsider thread on FanForum.
Archive Date: 7/15/2000
It seemed Max had always loved Liz. All it took was a one glance and Isabel knew she had lost him forever to her.
A part of her hated Liz for taking Max, her Max, away. Another part felt sorry for Liz because she could never be to Max what Isabel was to him. A twin soul, a kindred spirit, her constant. Max would always be hers first.
That was the bond between them, a bond that not even Max’s love for Liz could erase. Isabel told herself that over and over when she felt squeezed out of Max’s life, when all Max could do was talk about Liz, dream about Liz, smile about Liz.
It seemed like the only time Liz's shadow failed to cast its spectre between them was that night they came out of the pods, that pitch black night where everything seemed so big, so dark, so … alien.
Max’s hands clasped hers tightly, as if it were cemented there for a purpose. His eyes searched hers and she nodded in silent understanding. He would always be with her. He would never leave her side. He would protect her.
When they came upon Michael, whose huge eyes reflected the fear pounding her heart, Max tightened his grip on her hand, as though to reassure her. And when Max extended his hand to take Michael’s, she felt all right. Michael was also a part of them. And he could never her take place by Max’s side.
They had lost Michael somewhere in that stretch of road. A flash of headlights arcing through the night sky sent him scampering off to hide. But Max stayed with her. He was her constant.
Isabel sighed, as she looked around Max’s empty room. Empty again, because he had taken off for a date with the perfect Liz. She glanced over his books, his neatly made bed, a shirt carelessly slung over the back of a chair. She picked up the shirt, folded it neatly, stopping for a second to inhale Max’s scent still emanating from it. And sighed again.
Another glance around the room and her eye caught on a picture of the two of them. Max laughing and Isabel giggling. That was the day Max was feeling blue because he finally got up the courage to walk up to Liz and say hello ... but Liz took off with her friend Maria.
Max came up behind Liz as she stood by a row of lockers. He had barely opened his mouth but Liz was already off striding down the school hallway, talking excitedly to Maria about a new science project she was working on. Max looked embarrassed, quickly turning to walk the other direction.
Isabel saw the crushed look in his eyes, a look that made her want to march down the hall and drag Liz back, just so Max could finally say hello to her.
Isabel resolved to erase that glum look in Max’s eyes fast. “How about we go home and I can fix you something to eat? Maybe some ice cream?”
When she was seven, Isabel thought that vanilla almond fudge lathered with green Tabasco sauce cured all ails.
Isabel used to have nightmares, of separation from Max, of a loss so profound it wounded her. And she’d wake up in a sweat. She’d search out Max and raid the fridge for her favorite comfort food. They would sit down at the kitchen table, hardly saying anything as they stuffed their faces with the delectable dessert.
Oftentimes, their midnight snack together would wind up as an ice cream fight. She’d take the last spoonfuls of her ice cream dish and hurl it at Max playfully. Splat! It would wind up on Max’s face, a white and green gooey blob dribbling down his cheek.
Max would smile and then launch a spoonful of his own. He always ate his ice cream slower so he had plenty of ammunition left to throw back at her. By the time the spoons stopped spitting out ice cream, they would both be covered with melting ice cream and giggles.
They’d always clean up the mess … the easy way, of course. A slight wave of the hand and it was as if the ice cream fight never took place. Relaxed and happy, both of them would climb back to their rooms and sleep peacefully.
“Okay,” Max half-heartedly accepted her ice cream invitation. Isabel talked of everything and nothing non-stop on the way home. Anything to get his mind off Liz.
As she got out the bowls, Max sat glumly at the kitchen table, looking down at the floor. “Hey, it looks like Mom got two whole gallons of ice cream! And I have a jumbo bottle of sauce around here.” Isabel produced the bottle with relish.
She doled out portions of the ice cream and carefully lathered them with the yummy sauce. Max barely acknowledged his bowl.
“Max, your ice cream is melting!” she nudged him.
“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Max obediently took a spoonful and shoveled it into his mouth.
A gleam entered Isabel’s eyes. She took a glob of ice cream and flicked it towards Max. It landed squarely on Max’s nose.
Startled, Max jumped. “Isabel, what are you -- ?”
“It’s tradition, Max, don’t you remember?” Another glob of the Tabasco soaked dairy product landed beside the collar of Max’s shirt.
A small grin spread on Max’s face. “Okay, you asked for it, Iz,” Max launched an ice cream and Tabasco missile at Isabel. It landed on her hair.
“Ooooh, you're gonna pay for that! I just washed my hair and did an oil treatment on it!"
Suddenly they grabbed scoops of ice cream with their hands, throwing it at each other and ducking as incoming dessert bombs came their way.
Isabel picked a spot behind the kitchen counter, and preparing to send of a huge fistful of the slippery ice cream. As she stood up to deliver it, Max’s own ice cream bullet missed her by an inch but Max lifted his hand to deflect it so it landed squarely between her eyes. The sight of the goddess with ice cream blasted all over her face sent Max into fits of laughter.
“Hey, no fair! No using of powers in this little war!” With that, Isabel threw her own ball of ice cream at Max. It splattered all over his neck and slithered down his chest. She collapsed in giggles.
“Wow, that is cold!” Max manages to get in between snorts of laughter.
When the ice cream was finally exhausted, Max and Isabel were still laughing.
“Hey, guys, I’m home. Guess what I got?” Mrs. Evans called out from the living room.
With almost lightning speed, Max and Isabel cleaned up the mess of ice cream and Tabasco sauce in the kitchen.
“You got a new camera! Great,” Isabel chimed in as Mrs. Evans walked into the former ice cream war zone/kitchen, holding up a new 35mm camera Mrs. Evans glances at the bowls and two cartons of almost-empty ice cream gallons.
“You guys had some ice cream, huh?”
A small laugh escaped Isabel’s lips at that statement. A vision pf Max jumping as the cold ice cream dribbled down his neck gave way to an uncontrollable attack of giggles. Max, unable to help himself, also joined in the laughter.
“Ah, you two, really shouldn’t be having that much ice cream! Too much of a sugar rush!” Mrs. Evans jokingly chastised. More laughter from Max and Isabel followed.
“Well, since you two are such in a good mood, I know just the perfect picture to take with my new camera!” With that, Mrs. Evans snapped a photo of the two of them.
Isabel smiled in remembrance of that day. It was long gone now. Then she straightened up. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Me, sulking around like this, Isabel shook her head. She, who some revered in school almost like a goddess, was spending a perfectly good Saturday night, cursing the fates and a little brown haired, doe-eyed miss for taking her Max away.
Isabel walked downstairs and went straight to the fridge, in search of ice cream and the green bottle of sauce.
The sight of Isabel staring sightlessly down at a melted bowl of ice cream greeted Max.
“Hey,” he called out to her.
“Hey,” she glanced up at him.
“So, had a good time?” Isabel asked, almost cringing at the sound of her jealous voice. She glanced at him, hoping he didn't catch that note. A slight incline of his head told Isabel that he caught it. He simply knew her too well.
“I mean, you and Liz have fun?” Isabel added forcefully, trying to inject a patented whatever-I-really-don’t-care voice.
“Yeah, we did,” Max responded.
“What?” Isabel prompted Max as he looked at the bowl on the table before Isabel.
“Nothing, I just. Iz ... ” he tailed off. Worried lines marred his face. With uncanny sense, he knew what was going through her head.
Max shifted and moved towards her. As Isabel stood up, Max pulled her into a hug.
“You know I love you, right? I’ll always love you. I’ll be here for you. Nothing will ever change that. Not even Liz,” he reassured her, running his hands through the blonde tendrils of her hair.
“Of course!” Isabel moved her head, tucking it closer to Max’s shoulders and tightening her grip on him, as if she never him to let her go. Max held her for a few more moments and released her.
“So, you up for some ice cream?” Isabel invited Max, trying to delay the inevitable … Max thinking about Liz, dreaming of Liz.
“No, I’m kinda beat tonight. Maybe tomorrow, okay?” he smiled in apology at Isabel and headed upstairs.
“Sure!” Isabel rasped out, a little sarcastic.
Liz had changed everything. Max was no longer hers, just hers. No matter what he said or did, a little Liz ghost would always be between them. Oh, yeah, she hated Liz. About as much as she loved Max. Stupid Liz. Stupid Isabel.
-End-
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