|RSA Main||Fiction by Title||Fiction by Author||Fiction by Partners||Slash Subplots||Familiar Faces||Links|
New Beginnings, Chapter 5
Reply to Alex ParrishPosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list October 6, 2003
Part:5/19 "New Beginnings"
Author: Alex Parrish
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Katims, Metz and the WB. No infringement is intended. I own nothing, Trust me. Suing is futile!
Distribution: Roswell Slash Archive/Others Ask
Rating: X? Explicit sex and language
Spoilers: Nothing in particular and seasons 1,2,3 in general
Thanks: To aunty_mib, Beta extraodinaire, eh!
Summary/General: The lives of the 7 primary characters for 9 months after they leave season 3.
Summary/Chapter: Max and Kyle present their plan to Liz.
As Max had predicted, Liz was the first to show at Isabel and Jesse's room, arriving at 3:50, just as we arrived. We needed to hold our conversation in private, and the only option was the bathroom, so, odd as it seemed, the three of us, Max, Liz and I, crowded into the small bathroom as Isabel and Jesse stared at us in disbelief.
Max suggested that, although both of us needed to be there and participating, he should take the lead, and I was more-than-happy to oblige. I frankly thought the idea -- that Max should marry both of us and split his time between us -- had an ice-cube's chance in hell of appealing to Liz and, more likely, held a strong potential for Liz flipping out. I had already arranged, unnoticed by Max, to be closest to the door in case she flipped. My exit route straight back to our motel room was thoroughly planned, and I had no reservations about running.
Think about it; I had gotten into this quagmire already knowing that Max had a relationship with Liz, even if it was on-again-off- again and mostly off-again. In the past week, in addition to leaving her home with federal agents in pursuit, no belongings, no destination, and no plan, Liz learned that her fiancee was not only a practicing bisexual, but had been perfecting it for the last year with her ex-boyfriend, and prior to that with her best friend's boyfriend. Any normal person could be driven insane by this; then, mix in that two of the men involved are aliens -- not from Mexico, mind you -- but from the planet Antar, and that her fiancee is the exiled King. Now, for good measure, add the fact that her Fiancee has fathered an illegitimate child with another woman, also alien, who then committed suicide, taking dozens of innocent people with her. How could she not be at the gates to La-la-land?
She has every right to be suicidal, but even more justification for being homicidal, and in that case, I intend to be the first one out the door -- Max can use his powers to take care of himself -- I bleed! Max now intends to ask her to allow her fiancee to marry his boyfriend (her ex-boyfriend) as well as her, and live in some kind of communal relationship. Yeah, I'm sure she'll be OK with that. Why not? And while we're all here, why don't we ask if she minds if her Fiancee continues to screw her best friend's boyfriend -- but only until we can make other arrangements? Throw in Elvis, the Lindbergh baby or Jimmy Hoffa and you have the makings of a TV series. I've seen more viable plots in a John Waters film! So you might say that I was a little nervous about the meeting.
Max greeted Liz with a 'hello' kiss and she nodded a silent 'hello' to me. Max closed the seat to the toilet and invited Liz to sit. I thought. 'good move Max -- get her sitting while we both stand towering above her-- psychological advantage.' Liz declined and then suggested Max sit since he was the first in. (Oops! Liz, 1 -- Max, 0) The space was so crowded that he had no option other than to sit, allowing each of us a little more personal space.
Max started with small-talk; "Did you sleep OK?"
She pursed her lips and nodded 'yes' with an "mm-humm" to emphasize the nod, but didn't even attempt a smile. ('not good,' I thought)
Max at least sensed that she was not interested in small-talk and chose to march right into the abyss. "Kyle and I have done a little thinking and talk...ū
She held up a hand, palm-out to Max and interrupted him mid-sentence ('Oh no!' Is this "talk-to-the hand?")
She spoke, (I guess it isn't) "Before you and Kyle start trying to confuse me or make me lose my train-of-thought, I have some things I need to get off my chest."
(He-he-hee! She said 'chest!')
"OK." Max sat back a little, leaning on the tank.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking and researching over the past week since I found out about you and Kyle, and a lot of talking with Maria - because she has a similar situation with Michael, and I've come to some conclusions which I want you and Kyle to hear and to think about before you decide anything."
"OK" we spoke in unison.
"Herežs how it looks to me. On the one hand, you and Michael have the same problem; you might actually call it a 'sexual dysfunction.'"
"I donžt think...." Max tried to break in but up went the hand.
"Hold on! Hear me out first. I call it that because, in a way, that's what it is; an inability to produce a child with a woman on your own, and I think we have pretty clearly expressed to each other our desire to have children. This kind of sexual dysfunction is nothing to be ashamed of and it's nothing unusual; thousands of men have the same problem, and there are a number of approaches to treating it. The one that seems to apply in your case, is that you need a sperm donor -- of course, in your and Michael's case, where the sperm goes and how it gets there is radically different from other men, granted, but if you think about it, that's really what it is. If you and I were what passes for a 'perfectly normal couple,' and you had this sexual dysfunction, we wouldn't think it was at all unusual to have a sperm donor, and furthermore, to have a friend to be that sperm donor. The same would apply if we needed an egg donor; I certainly would expect you to support me in this, so, how could I not support you in this?"
"Well, you..." He tried again; same result.
"I'm not finished!.. As I said, On the one hand, you and Michael share the same problem; but on the other hand, there's one big difference."
"Whatžs that?" Max finally got a word in.
"According to Maria, and, second-hand, according to Michael, you each approach this situation differently. Michael has stated that, when the two of you ... help each other, He sees it as kind-of a physical routine, or a ritual act; something not specifically sexual, in fact, Michael told Maria that you usually have to help Michael to become aroused; that he does not find you sexually arousing, or any man, for that matter; that women arouse him. Maria confirms that -- the last part at least."
"Uh ... I ..."
"S-h-h-h-! Ižm still talking. Michael told Maria that the same is not true for you; that, in fact, you are easily aroused without Michael actually doing anything, and he believes that you are easily aroused by other men as well. For you it is primarily a sexual act as well as those other things; and also -- and perhaps more importantly -- that, although, HE feels emotionally detached from the act, YOU seem to him to be emotionally invested in it. I also know, from personal experience, that you have no trouble at all in being sexually aroused by a female, in fact, in my experience, quite the opposite is true. Michael's take on this is that you are more of a bisexual, while he is mostly a heterosexual who is compelled by physiology to engage in sex with another male. Now, this makes sense to me."
"It does?" (Max looked absolutely incredulous.)
"It does. Now, this makes your situation fundamentally different from Michael's. Whereas, he needs a sperm donor in a purely impersonal way, you also need a sperm donor, but you have emotional and sexual needs which accompany that, and which a female is, apparently, unable to provide to you, however aroused you may be by her."
She took a deep breath, but Max didn't even attempt to say anything. I was leaning against the door and I think it's possible that my eyes were crossing.
"That leads us full circle, back to my original observations about sperm and egg donors. Some people prefer anonymous donors, and some people prefer that the donor be someone close to them. So the question is, why shouldn't our donor be someone we care for, and who cares for us? Kyle, here, seems to fit that description perfectly. It also seems to me that such a person could theoretically, also fulfill those other needs I mentioned; sexual and emotional."
"I'm sure that ..."(Stopped by the hand)
"Wait! Just one more thing, and then you can talk. I was not at all pleased -- and I am rather hurt -- to discover that you have emotional and sexual needs which I cannot now, or, most likely, not ever fulfill; hurt mostly by the fact that you didn't share this with me, and that you actually hid it from me."
She turned her icy gaze in my direction, "That goes for you too, Kyle. I thought that friends share things, and now I find out that you were sneaking behind my back with my boyfriend for nearly a year. That really hurts me."
(I tried my hardest to become invisible, but, for some reason, I couldn't)
She turned back to Max, "In fact, I feel somewhat threatened by the possibility of someone else fulfilling those needs, but, in general, I think I am less likely to feel threatened by a competitor whom I know than I would feel with competition from some stranger. Research I did on the internet seems to pretty clearly suggest that If a man isn't getting all of his sexual and emotional needs fulfilled in his marriage, an overwhelming percentage of men look for that fulfillment somewhere else. That frightens me because, on the whole, I think I'd rather know exactly where you are and with whom, and, to a certain extent, what you are doing. Furthermore, I would prefer that, if you have to turn to someone else, it should be to someone I trust and care about too. Once again, despite his previous duplicity, Kyle seems an obvious choice."
(Ouch! That hurt, but I knew I completely deserved it)
After a little pause, Max tried to respond. "I donžt know what to say..."(and he looked like he REALLY didnžt)
"Well you could at least start with a sincere apology -- from EACH of you. Oh -- Yes -- One more thing. If this person, let's say, it is Kyle, is going to be genetically related to our children, he should also have the privilege and responsibility of participating in the parental role. He should be a part of our life and of our children's lives. In order for this to take place, he needs to feel somehow invested in the relationship, like he is really a part of it and not just a second-class participant, or a guest. Kyle can vouch for how difficult and hurtful it is for a child to know that they have another parent out there somewhere, who isn't interested, or isn't available to them; he knows first-hand how that feels. Maria and Michael might choose to deal with this in a different way, I donžt know, but I think, for our situation, this person -- Kyle -- needs some kind of official standing -- like a marriage. So, Max, you should be married to both of us."
The silence was deafening.
After an eternity, Liz spoke again; "I know this is a lot to put on you two all at once, but before you reject any of my ideas, I want you to think carefully and talk about them, OK? This is something we really HAVE to deal with, and pretty quickly. Promise me you'll think about it?"
She pointed that request directly at Max.
"Uh ... Uh .. Yes."
She then turned her scary gaze on me and demanded; "Promise?"
"Promise! Absolutely! We'll really think about it."
"Good. Let's see if Maria and Michael are here yet and get this meeting under way."
She slid past me out the door and Max and I looked at each other in disbelief.
Max spoke first. "Did I actually hear that, or did I imagine it?"
"Hey!" I grinned, "Let's give the little lady what she wants!"
"You've got that right, but you'd better not let her hear you call her the 'little lady' if you want to continue to be able to produce sperm!"
"You know," I continued, "One of the interesting things about Liz is that, she usually seems so 'nice' and so quite and agreeable, almost meek, but, when she latches on to something, she really takes charge and runs with it. Like, for example, investigating Alex's murder, or when she decided to leave town for boarding school without telling any of us. The problem is -- I can never predict what she is going to latch onto."
"Me either." He appeared to be deep in thought for about 15 seconds, pursing his lips and shaking his head, and then popped up with "Lets go see if we can wake Michael."
"Got'cha!" I repeated, pointing my finger at Max.
I opened the bathroom door again just as Maria entered Jesse and Isabel's room with a very rough and discheveled-looking Michael in tow. Obviously he had very recently almost been awakened.
"Hey buckaroo," I tried a little too hard to be friendly, "You look like you been rode hard and put away wet!"
"Shut up, Valenti." Michael seethed as he stumbled to the only chair in the room and plopped himself down.
I complied and quietly set about insuring that Max stood between Michael and me at all times. It never hurts to be on the safe side.
The meeting was surprisingly short and sweet, mostly because Jesse -- the only one of us who was mature enough to be truly frightened by what we were doing --and the only one of us with the slightest bit of worldly knowledge,(he had, after all, survived Harvard Law) had drawn up a plan. He had spent half the night doing it. How he managed to do this, and not just collapse of exhaustion, I donžt know. I suppose it was long sleepless all-nighters at Harvard. He had selected a general destination,(which I can not tell you,) obtained a road atlas, and drawn up some viable routes. He had also drawn up a list of 'do-s and don'ts' to which he made each of us swear allegiance, after we had reviewed them and changed a couple and added a couple. Finally he had created a list of 'needs' and a list of possible means of fulfilling them. This last list required much discussion, but, fortunately, we didn't have to take care of all of them immediately. Michael actually woke up and participated, and was so impressed by what Jesse had accomplished, Michael dubbed Jesse "Royal Cruise Director." At least we were all still capable of laughing.
We were finished by 5:00, and agreed to get dinner in 2 groups; "Mr. & Mrs. Parks" dining with "Mr. & Mrs. Esteban," and our little uneasy threesome making up the other group. By agreement, we were to rest until 9:00 and then hit the road again. Isabel, that is "Diane Esteban" would take care of check-out, having made a 'special withdrawal' from a nearby ATM using a special Aliens-only method which included making certain she did not appear on the video. Actually I came up with the term 'special withdrawal' because Liz kept referring to it as åstealing from the ATM.ž I told her that calling it this would make her feel better about it, but I donžt think it did. We ate, chatting about lots of nothing as though all were sweetness and light, then returned to our respective rooms to rest. I don't think I need to tell you exactly how Max and I rested.
Taking Care of Michael
After our unexpectedly successful meeting with Liz, to work out the situation between Liz, Max and me, we were feeling pretty smart; I'm not sure why, because it was plain-old dumb luck that Liz came to the same conclusion as Max and I had; we really had nothing to do with it. It was later that evening when we remembered that, in our amazement at Liz's solution, Max had completely forgotten to ask if she had thought about what was to happen with Michael when, he reached the point of needing to be 'serviced' by another man, which he surely would reach in the next week or so. She had obviously discussed the situation with Maria, but we hadn't even brought it up, so we didn't know if she had a solution to that problem in mind as well. Reluctantly, Max picked up the phone and called Liz's room and asked if she might come to our room to discuss something else. She declined, pleading exhaustion, and pressed Max to tell her what we wanted to discuss. He did.
She responded without hesitation, and a little amusement in her voice, "Max, Michael is not your responsibility anymore, he's Maria's responsibility, and she and I have taken steps to see that Michael is properly taken care of. Don't worry yourself about it." She gave a pleasant goodnight and hung up, leaving Max frustrated and annoyed that he had not been consulted, and causing both of us to wrack our brains to figure out how they would 'take care ofž Michael's needs.
Max took Michael aside the next morning and interrogated him about it, but cryptically, Michael would only say, "No sweat -- it's taken care of. It's cool."
It was nearly a week later when I finally managed to break Maria's silence on the matter. She told me that, prior to Max and my meeting with Liz, she and Liz had spent a week discussing it and decided on a plan. They both took Isabel aside and pressured her by pointing out that, because their men were aliens, both of them were obliged to share their men with another man, and that she had not had to make any such sacrifice. I don't know exactly how they twisted her arm, but the result was that Isabel (multiple choice) --begged, pleaded, asked, demanded, cajoled, threatened, blackmailed, tricked -- pick any answer you want, because we don't know the right answer, but the upshot was that --Jesse -- yes, straight-as-an-arrow, macho Latino Jesse had agreed, however reluctantly, to 'service' Michael. I couldn't believe my ears, and when I told Max, he absolutely didnžt believe me; he thought Maria had lied to me. My best guess is that there was some kind of barter, like; one sex with Guerin equals two extra hot-alien-sex sessions with Isabel -- if I were in Jesse's place, I'd hold out for nothing less.
Max finally got Michael to confirm the story. We never really found out, though, whether Isabel had used threats or promises, or how she had convinced Jesse. Apparently it was a one-way transaction, and Jesse had required some extraordinary means to achieve arousal, but Jesse had agreed, and had, in fact, done the deed, at least once at that point.
I kept my eyes open for clues, or first-hand confirmation, and sure enough, about every three weeks, Jesse and Michael would disappear for a while, together, and no one said anything about it.
Much later on, they became more casual around each other, and even could talk and joke about it. I saw something the other day, that I never thought I would live long enough to see. All four of us, the guys, were watching sports on the satellite TV -- the women were off doing woman-things -- and Jesse and I were sitting on the small couch in the TV area, eating popcorn. Max was seated on the floor, leaning back between my legs, and Michael was on the floor in front of Jesse. Something happened on the screen that caused Jesse to lean forward, and he unconsciously place his hands on Michael's shoulders. When he leaned back -- I don't know whether he was aware of it or not -- he was kneading and massaging Michael shoulders in a most affectionate way, and Michael was letting him, no, enjoying him doing it. I never thought I'd see the day when two macho straight guys would be comfortable enough with each other to actually show affection in a physical way. I kept this to myself.
Continue to Chapter 6
Send comments to Alex Parrish
Return to Top