Pieces of You

Part One: Wounded
by MistressKitty [formerly Josephine]
Summary- The group's letters to Liz after something horrible happens.
Disclaimer- The song "Wounded" was written by Stephan Jenkins and Kevin Cadogan and is found in it's entirety on Third Eye Blind's CD "Blue". The characters on Roswell belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims, and the WB.

Wounded
***
The guy who put his hands on you
Has got nothing to do with me
***
I don't know why this whole ordeal is bothering me so much, I don't even really *know* you.
I know I'm not to blame for all this, but I feel like I am.

I feel like I should have been there to protect you. The fact is, that you are important to
all of us, and no matter how well I know you, I love you Liz.
-Michael
***
And the bruises that you feel will heal
And I hope you'll come around
***
I may not be where you are now, but I know how it feels, Liz: the stares, all those I'm so
sorry looks when you know they could care less.

I care about you, honestly, and I wish there was something I could do to heal you. Not just
your outward bruises, but the pain you're so adept at hiding on the inside. So, I'm
offering what I can, and praying.
-Isabel
***
We're missing you
You used to speak so easy
Now you're afraid to talk to me
***
I only wanted you to feel better, and you shied away, and my heart pulls, knowing that he's
hurt you that much, and I can's do anything about it, but stay away.

So, I send you my love from afar, and miss you, and cry for you.
-Max
***
It's like walking with the wounded
Carrying that weight way too far
The concrete pulled you down so hard
Out there with the wounded
***
I'm sorry I can't bring myself to see you, but know that it's because I care so much.

I can't stand to go to school, because to them, you've just become another statistic, but to
me you are more than that, so much more.

You're a best friend, and a darling girl and I spend every moment I can looking at photos
and remembering the time we've spent together, because I feel that it will never be the
same again.
-Alex
***
Missing you
Well I never claimed to understand what happens after dark
***
I can't seem to stop crying long enough to write this, so I won't even try.

It hurts me when you're hurt and I'm powerless to make your hurt stop.

I love you Liz. I'm sorry I can't write any more.
-Maria
***
But my fingers catch sparks at the thought of touching you
But you're wounded
***
I keep calling, but your mom keeps saying 'She can't talk to you right now', and I love you,
and miss you, but I know I can't come near you, at least until you're better.

So I can wait. Take however long, whoever, whenever you need. Hope to see you soon.
-Max
***
We miss your face and you know I wish you
Would come back down
***
Maybe you think that I don't know what you've been through, and maybe you think I would
just make everything worse.

But, Liz, I see you everyday, hidden, locked up in your room and I'm offering you
something I can actually give. Friendship.
-Tess
***
You tell them, that's just my battle scar
I want to kiss you
***
I know you were lost to me long ago, but I still care about how this all turns out.

I still care about you.

I most likely won't see you anytime soon, so know that I hope you recover because a lot of
people miss you, me included.
-Kyle
***
You're an angel in the pit with her hands in the air
And we're missing you
***
Feel better honey, and let me help you. You can't chase away these demons alone.

I love you angel.
-Mom
***
Now it's fall and your shoulders still get tighter
And we're missing you
***
The End
***

Part Two: Broken
Summary: Continuation from part one of Pieces of You
Thanks: To my darling beta-reader Allana!

Broken
***
"Hi, you've reached the Parker residence, please leave your name, number, and a short message and we will return your call as soon as possible."

Beep.

"Hi, Liz. This is Maria, please call me." The voice sounded sad to her, almost pleading. This was the third time she had called since the woman had last erased the messages.

She walked across the hall and opened the door to the room that smelled most familiar to her. This room was where she slept, and made her home. It had pictures all around, of a girl who looked strangely like she did, with a boy with black hair, a serious demeanor and a tendency to smile at the girl whenever the camera flashed.

The boy also made tempting promises while drunk and loved the girl with all of his being. She wasn't sure how she knew this, except...

Max! The pain lanced through her abdomen and flashed behind her eyes. She was forced to close her eyes and slide to the floor.

That was her other life. Remembering it hurt her too much to do, but for some reason, tonight she dwelt on the strange regressed memory of Max Evans.

He was the trigger to recalling everything she had worked so hard to forget.

***

It was summer, in Florida, at the beach. Why wasn't I happy? Every normal girl surrounded by shirtless guys playing lifeguard and volleyball would be happy.

But I wasn't. Because none of those guys were Max, and would never be Max. And since I could never bring myself to see the "real" Max again, no one else could ever really compare.

I was trying to be different here, tanning on the beach wearing my new lavender bikini, and smiling at the boys who passed by.

It wasn't me, but it was a good thing, because "me" was still in love with Max no matter what destiny said, and "me" was still in Roswell, lying to myself.

I had called Maria before I caught the plane to tell her what had happened and that I was leaving for the summer. She didn't take it well, but she's Maria, and some melodramatics are to be expected.

No one else knows I was here with my aunt, unless Maria told them, and no one, not even Maria knew my phone number here. I could have changed my name, for no one would have been able to disprove me.

But I stayed Liz Parker, for some remnant of my Roswell-personage needing to stay intact.

I was in the middle of my daily routine, laying on my back and reading the local newspaper when suddenly, a large object was flying towards me, blocking out the sun.

A volleyball. For my credit I caught it, and threw it back to the boy near the game facing my way.

It suddenly hit me like wave, the boy looked like Max! And he was tossing the ball to a teammate and jogging over to me.

We got to talking, his name was Nathan, and I gave him my address with a request for him to stop by later, and we could go bike-riding.

I knew he wasn't Max, but my heart was pounding and my breath was quickened and I waved him good-bye, packed up my things and walked back to my aunts.

***

She was curled up in the corner between her bed and the wall sighing with her whole body when she heard a knock on the door, and the ever persistent/hopeful/tired voice on the other side. "Lizzy, are you okay?"

She rocked back and fourth some more, pulling her knees up closer to her chest.

***

The doorbell was ringing. I tied off the end of the half-done French braid in my hair and dashed downstairs just as my aunt opened the door.

"Aunt Linda, this is Nathan. We'll be back around..." I looked to Nathan.

"Eight. I'll take good care of your niece Ms. Parker."

"See you two at eight then." I kissed my aunt on the cheek as she smiled, pleased that I had found something to do with my time.

I told Nathan that I'd have to get my bike from the shed, and then waved my aunt good-bye.

***

We were racing down the boardwalk as night was falling, pedaling as hard as we could, barely inching in front of each other.

I was riding so fact my hair was billowed out behind me, the cooling sea breeze caressing my face, and I felt like I was flying.

"It's nearing eight." I called regretfully back to Nathan.

"Let's keep going! I'm sure your aunt won't mind." I smiled, and pedaled harder, leaving him no choice but to follow.

***

She was crying. She knew this story, and she knew what was going to happen. She knew that he would kick his foot into the spokes of the girls bike wheel and send her sprawling, cut upon the ragged asphalt. Left at his mercy to be abused. She knew that the girl had known that this might have happened and she wept for the broken girl, left in the alley all night.

***

"Liz... Liz? Get up, it's time to drive to the airport." A hesitant hand pressed down lightly against my shoulder. I opened my eyes and blinked a few times before forcing myself out of bed and routinely getting dressed, and swallowing a few scoops of dry cereal.

"Let's go." My aunt helped my out the door with my suitcases.

My body was healing, but I didn't think my mind ever would.

***

"Lizzy, are you crying?" Her mother let herself into the room, and sat down next to her on the floor.

She stiffened against the arm around her shoulders, but then relaxed and sobbed against her mother's neck.

"I don't know if I can stop."

Tears gathering in her eyes, her mother tightened her hold on Liz, and said, "All things heal in time, you just have to let them."

***

The End

Part Three: Sore
Summary: Sequel to Wounded and Broken
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. The song is "Fortress" belonging to Ken Block and Sister Hazel


Sore
***
I was running along a fence, grabbing onto the chain links to pull myself along. I had to
stay in front, had to beat the team, not only at the finish line, but every time the whistle
blew. I had no rest. I had to keep going. Every time I thought I had to stop, I would pull
myself further, as if my feet refused to become lax in their motion.

Even the wind blew against me, wanting me to lose. But for some reason, I wasn't going
to let that happen. I simply had to stay ahead. This was more important than just a race.
It ran deeper than that within me.

Halfway around the gigantic fence, I fell hard to my knees. I cried out in pain as not only
my skin was ripped, but I saw the others pull ahead, and the teacher reaching for her
whistle.

I heard the shrill sound or it, and bowed my head low in defeat and I cried.
***
My eyes snapped open as I heard the beginning of a song playing on my alarm clock/radio.
It was time for my first day back to school.

It's bitter-
It tastes a lot like winter
And will it release me?

The words of the song slunk out of the radio, swirling around my ears.

And kill me? Don't kill me

And I knew that even though it had been only a dream, I had lost the race, and that was
going to affect me the rest of my life.

And I've been staying high
And I've been feeling sorry for myself
And I've been resurrecting my
My fortress to protect myself
***
My backpack felt heavy weighing hard down on my shoulder. I mentally blocked out the
loud noises of the school around me, and focused on getting to my locker without
breaking down into tears. Before I could get there, Maria caught sight of me, and gently
pulled me to the side of the hallway.

"Liz, how are you?" She didn't wait for me to reply. "Are you okay? You look kind of
detached. Here, smell this." She shoved a vial under my nose while explaining what it
was, and that it would calm me down at least until lunch when I could have some more. I
was quiet as the foreign smell filled my nose; I was never a believer in aromatherapy.

"I'm fine, Maria. I gotta get my books." I ignored the stares from around me as Maria
swiftly hugged me, and walked away. I fell against my locker and let the feel of the cool
metal fill my head.
***
I fell hard onto my bed that afternoon, still excuses with a leave of absence from work.
The comfort of my familiar quilt was great relief from the whispers and stars and
avoidance I had suffered through all day. And yet, I had asked for this.

It had been my wish to try to be normal again, to go to school like everyone else, be
myself again. Even thought that was what I wanted most in the world, I knew deep in my
heart, that it was impossible.

My old self had been left behind in that alley-way on a warm night on the Florida coast.
My old self died at the hand of Nathan, one who I let in, and who betrayed me.

When I returned Maria had to regain my trust, and no one sled had yet with the possible
exception of my mother. It was for her that I finally let myself cry and see the truth of my
wounded, broken and sore existence.

My mother and Maria were still the only ones I could talk to, apart from myself. Even my
journal seemed futile and blank now, a piece of who I was before, nothing more. All I was
now was an empty shell trying to stay alive, although life itself was empty now. The
beauty had been desecrated, and tears were the only break in the monotony of weakness.
***
I am alone. My parents didn't want to leave me, but I assured them that I would be fine.
But I'm not.

I am in a state of panic because alone I will get hurt again, and no one will hear when I cry
and weep, and my body lays broken on the ground.

And I didn't know how to rid myself of this feeling, aside from turning the radio on which
seems to help some.

Shattered
tired, broken, worn down and tattered, and
Can you even hear me?

Until the phone rings. There is no one else to answer, and I am too afraid to let it ring, so
with a shaky hand, I lift up the receiver and whisper, "Hello?"

And there's a pause, and a voice asks kindly, "Is Liz there?"

What do you expect out of me?
I'm being buried alive and screaming
Can't you see- oh can't you see me?

And I attempt to respond, 'this is she', but it come out more like an injured squeak. Then I
swallow and manage, "Yes."

Without my home, yeah- I'm so lost, so lost
***
Then he's here, and I'm struggling to breathe because he's so close, and he's smoothing
back my hair as I sit and stare silently straight in front of me. And I startle as I feel his
warm hand on the cool skin of my arm.

"Let me see, Liz. Show me what happened to you."

And a broken cry escapes my lips as a tear slides down my cheek, and we are connected.
Images are flashing against the inside of my eyelids. Images of the tears and endless
letters and phone calls.

I never realized that they suffered for me, and I wouldn't let myself trust them.

The flashes are gone, and we're both crying and I fall into his strong arms and sob.
***
I cannot deny this soreness within me. But now I realize that the soreness had made me
who I am- and now I don't want to deny it.
***
The End
***