Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·

FOUR

"Lizzie?" 

I was submerged under water and the sound of my name was distorted by the heaviness of water molecules.

"Lizzie, honey? Time to wake up."

It was not the same voice I had gotten accustomed to in my latest hours of grief and defeat. This was not Max.

The water molecules were easing back, creating space for my father's voice to break through, resonating clearly in my head as he repeated, "Lizzie?" in that soft voice he had used when trying to rouse me from sleep when I was little.

Blinking my eyes open, I realized that I had not been under water (obviously), but in the deepest of sleeps. My mind - and possibly my body too - was exhausted by the last couple of days. Also, it had been late into the early morning hours before I had fallen asleep after Max and I had discussed the horrific ramifications of the pregnancy and had guided me into my own womb to look at our daughter.

In my best teenage impersonation, I pulled the pillow over my head and grumbled, "Go away."

The pause that followed was lengthy enough to make me suspect that he had actually left. Until his careful and sad voice declared, "Breakfast is ready. You need to eat something, honey."

The pillow was removed from my head and I groaned as the light from the room hit the outside of my closed eyelids. The bed dipped and I warmed as he placed his hand on my head. Slowly caressing my hair, he added, "You have gone through so much, Ella. You need food. You're looking too thin."

The lack of sleep was tempting me to be annoyed with him and inform him that I needed sleep just as much as food to recuperate, but the worry that was cloaking his voice stopped me. Instead I curled up, hugging my knees to my abdomen and whispered, "Five more minutes, Dad."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, increasing the warmth inside of me. He gave my head a familial pat and said lovingly, "Of course, honey."

The mattress moved again as he got to his feet and I listened intently to the squeaking of old floorboards as he crossed the floor to the door. When the soft sound of a door moving reached me, I turned my head towards the sound, pulling the comforter away from my partly hidden face, "Dad?"

He immediately turned, looking over at me. My heart swelled to the point of almost breaking with the familiarity of his face and the hope that lightened his eyes. "Yes?"

"I love you," I told him, my voice thick with emotions and sleep.

The soft smile reached his eyes in the most beautiful of ways. "I love you too."

He stayed like that, looking at me across the distance of wooden floor between us, until the unconditional love for his daughter became too much for my heart to bear right now and I cleared my throat. "I'll be right down, Dad."

Dad shifted, broken from the spell, and chuckled again. "Sure. Of course, hun. See you downstairs."

By the time he had left the room, I was wide awake. But my sudden alertness provided me with no encouragement to move. The pillow was soft against the back of my head as I stared up at the white ceiling. I heard the soft sounds of indistinct conversations from downstairs and if I focused I could clearly hear what Max was up to and what he was thinking. I could even see through his eyes and almost feel present at the breakfast table without being physically there.

Max was watching his grandfather a lot, his feelings and thoughts about his grandfather's return moving from wonderment to curiosity to confusion to hurt to betrayal. In other words, Max was struggling to make up his mind about his grandfather's sudden appearance. I had been too wrapped up in the events of my (missed) miscarriage to go through what information George Evans had already provided during conversations which I had not attended.