Lethal Whispers | (Roswell Fanfiction) | √

Chapter 50

Special Agent Joel Martin

He wanted to scream at them "I told you so", but of course he couldn't do that. They were his superiors, the so-called 'experts', and when they had told him to not act on his wish to capture the suspects at the motel where they had abducted Elizabeth Parker, he had obeyed.

Like the good little soldier he was.

And look where it had gotten them. Sure, they had developed a drug that could disable the aliens' abilities, but that wouldn't do any good as long as they didn't have the aliens themselves.

He slammed his fist down into his desk. If he had been in charge, he never would have let them slip through his fingers.

*****

Liz

Was it all a lie? Is my whole life a lie?

The wet grass pressed against the soles of her sneakers, the melting remnants of early snow clinging to the shoe strings, as she crossed the lawn, the night pitch dark around her, not a star in sight.

Do I love him just because Aislin had? Have I ever been myself or am I part-Aislin? Who am I?

She ran fingers through her dark hair, tears coursing down her heated cheeks. Her arms tightened around her middle. She was shaking, her heart thrumming irregularly with palpable anxiety.

Did I die the night of the accident? Is Aislin in control of me?

She almost reached out with her mind, calling out into the darkness of her thoughts, as if it was a dark room with a stranger standing at the other end. Afraid to actually receive an answer, she pulled back and swallowed her question. Her language skills, her intelligence, her heightened empathy which bordered on telepathy... Was that all Aislin?

Her fingernails cut through her thin sweater (she hadn't brought her jacket with her) and into the soft tissue of her waist as she tried to stop herself from exploding.

"Oh my God," she whispered into the emptiness and felt her heart break. Her restless feet came to a halt and her upper body started falling, folding at the middle, her head aiming towards her middle. Who am I?

"Liz?"

She barely heard the concerned voice over the sound of blood rushing through her head, her legs folding at the knees, her knees hitting the cold wet ground with a cry ripped from the deepest parts of her being. There were hands moving across her back but she felt neither the warmth nor the comfort they tried to offer, she only saw the darkness in her mind where her identity had once been.

"You shouldn't be on the ground," the voice said and somewhere at the back of her head she recognized it as Isabel's. "You're freezing."

"I'm not me," Liz whispered. "I'm not me." And she felt the sharp pieces of her heart rip through her blood vessels, tearing through her arms and legs and she screamed.

"Please, Liz," Isabel said, louder now, trying to break through the sound of Liz's anguish. "You have to be quiet. Someone might hear. FBI is-"

"Let them take me," Liz cried. "Let them kill me. I can't... What..."

But she couldn't think anymore, she just wanted the pain to stop.

"Max, no." Liz heard Isabel's warning just as strong arms lifted her from the cold ground. She was hurting too badly to fight him. Instead she let him cradle her against his chest, let his lips brush against her temple, even though his voice of, "I've got you," made her hurt even more.