Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. The Song at the end of fic is Dido's I don't know the name of it at the top of my head, but it was the theme song for the show. That too, isn't mine either.
CHAPTER ONE: As A Catholic
There once was a girl who lived in a normal life, and did normal things, but she was anything but normal. She was the Queen of an entire world. She could see the future, she could change the way things looked, she could do anything, be anyone. She had powers and with them she could own the world. Not that she wanted to. She was more convinced that her powers should be kept a secret, and that if anyone were to ever find out she would surely be condemned.
The Church was a powerful thing. They were powerful enemies and ones that were quick to condemn. She didn't want to be condemned; she didn't want to be sent into the hereafter with an enemy like the church. So, she had only one choice. She had to keep it a secret, and so far it had worked. She hadn't told anyone about anything, and so, she was condemned to live her life alone. She was meant to become a widow. How was she supposed to have a family? How was she supposed to be a wife? Would she able to do all of the things that wives......did.... with their husbands? She would simply have to live out her entire life without anyone. Once she was respectively old enough to get a home of her own, she would, and become a sinister old bitty with six cats.
Her life was obviously filled with only one goal. To live out her life in what appeared to be piety and die by herself, but things became complicated when a certain young man obviously hadn't shared in her enthusiasm in keeping his secret.
His hands had been glowing. He was in the corner and he was doing something with his hands. He was partially in her view. She was astounded. He shared her secret, but was obviously not afraid to show it. They were in the middle of the church, with the clergy only in the other room. To be fair, she did have to say that she had been sitting in the confession both and was waiting for the priest to come back in. She could hear the drunken clergy's footsteps coming closer. He was absorbed in what he was doing, and he wouldn't realize that the clergy would see him. She had to help. It was so uncharacteristically unlike her. It was so uncharacteristically unlike Lisbeth Parkson, but perhaps it was the circumstances, perhaps it was fact that she felt in some way she could relate, of perhaps I was the voice inside of her nagging that she had to be closer to the boy in the corner, if not help him avoid open condemnation. She quickly, but quietly scurried out of the confession box. Before he knew it, she was dragging the boy from the corner out of the stone church and as far away from prying eyes as possible.
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He found himself breathing heavily around the corner in a deserted grove, still clutching the hand of a perfect stranger. She was looking about wildly and looked like she was expecting someone to come chasing them at any moment. Than it struck him. She had seen. She had seen what he had been doing in the corner. Than why would she have dragged him out of the church like that? If she had really seen what he had been doing than she surely would've reported him. Where had she come from anyway? There hadn't been anyone in the church. He had made sure that no was there when he had started. Where had she come from? Oh god, the Church, what were they going to say, better yet what was she going to do? Oh, well, having to hide like this was stupid anyway. Let the church condemn him, see if he cared.
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She was looking at him. Her eyes were dark, and mysterious.
He was clutching her hand more tightly than anyone ever had. She remembered his warm fingers encircling her own. He was holding her for dear life, and there was nothing more that mattered than that.
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They were somewhere and she remembered the feelings that were generating from him, more than anything else. He loved her, and she felt that coming off of him in waves. It never seemed to end, but she also felt fear, and a great sadness, for her.
He was mourning the end of her life, and the beauty he saw in it.
She was crying.
He didn't know.
He didn't know that there was no point to life without him.
He didn't know that he was her life.
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He did know that she was doing this for him.
He did know that she would do anything for him.
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He didn't know that she was like him.
He didn't know that even without him she would've been involved.
He didn't know that they shared the same secret.
He was always so open to her. He let her see anything about himself, and never asked for anything in return, than again, he hadn't known that there was something she could've shared with him. And just like that she let her guard down and the flashes began.
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He saw her life.
He saw her discovering her powers.
He saw her first putting on the gloves.
He saw her before the gloves. She was wild and carefree. She hadn't a worry in the world. She was like him. She was who she was and there was nothing that was going to change it for the world.
But her father was sent into the river. She was suspected of witchcraft, and instead of her being sent to the river, her father took her place leaving her all alone. They accepted, that when her father drowned he had been telling her the truth. She went to church everyday and prayed.
She wore the gloves her mother had made her wear before she died. Her mother was bitter when her beloved husband died to save the life of their child. They always could've had another child. There was no having another him.
He saw how much she loved him. He saw that she had been scared. He saw that she had been so disbelieving that he had used his powers in public.
She was ashamed that she had given up on life and love, when her father'sown words had encouraged her to always follow her heart and live life to the fullest. To love. She had screamed, and had been locked in her room. She wouldn't leave her room for days and wouldn't eat or drink anything.
He saw how she saw him; all grace, beauty, and wonder.
He saw her, and he let her see him too.
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They bonded then, more intimately than anyone had ever bonded before. They didn't know who or what they were. They were decisively different, but they had each other.
They were in it together, and they wouldn't have it any other way.
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I didn't hear you leave.
I wonder how am I still here.
And I don't want to move a thing.
It might change my memory.
It suddenly hit Liz as she heard her favorite song playing on Dido's new CD. It was a memory, or perhaps something that had happened in a dream. She quickly went to her hiding spot and dug out her journal and was about to write it's first entry, when her father called her down to start the first shift of the year In the Crashdown Café her family owned. Quickly, all thoughts of the 'dream' left her as she straightened her alien antennae and hustled down the steps.
"Coming!" she called out.
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