Crashed in Roswell
The Beginning's End Part 2

The Beginning's End"
Part 2
by rory (Jelena)

Disclaimer: Roswell and its characters belongs to the producers and the
WB...I couldn't come up with any of my own characters, so I had to borrow
someone else's. I'll give them back, I promise, don't sue me I don't have
any money.
Summary: Alex's mother runs out and he turns to Isabel for comfort, some
very, um, interesting aliens descend on Roswell, and the group takes the
granolith out for a test run...this one is going to be really long.
Category: Alex/Isabel
Rating: R
Authors Note: Feedback, please! This is my first fanfic!

Surveying the room, Isabel cringed as she realized exactly how messy it was.
Gathering the clothes from her floor, she stuffed them in the hamper. Then
she attempted to make a neat pile out of the papers on her desk, failing
miserably, until she gave up and collapsed onto the bed.
Feeling like an idiot, she sat on the bed staring out the window, waiting
for him. Trying to appear like she was not doing just that, and feeling even
more idiotic for caring how she looked when he came in, she gave her room
one last look to make sure she hadn't left anything utterly embarrassing
lying around, like a bra or a pair of underwear. Her eyes fell on a shopping
bag in the corner next to her door, and she gave a little shriek. God, I
almost left this lying here. If Alex had seen it, and realized what it was,
I would never be able to speak to him again. She jumped almost across the
room and snapped up the bag. I have to think. What can I do with it? Where
will he not look? Finally, her gaze settled on the bed, and she shrugged. It
was a cliché, but what could she do? She leaned over and pushed the bag
under, but there was something in the way. Getting down unto her knees, she
stuck her head under the bed and tried to push the bag in, but the
what-ever-it-was in the way would not budge. Finally she pulled the bag out
and peered through the dim light under the bed, trying to discover what
exactly was under there.

"Oh," she murmured softly. Now she realized what it was. The last time she
had had to scramble to clean her room had been months ago, but she still
remembered stuffing this box under her bed just as her mother walked in to
make sure she had cleaned up, so she would be able to go out on a date. She
had taken it out of her closet the day before, exactly one month after her
mother had appeared to Max, Michael, Tess and she in the cave, to look at,
and then forgotten to put it away. Her mother box.

Suddenly holding back tears, Isabel traced her fingers over the raised
letters on the outside, made with macaroni and construction paper and lace
soon after she learned what the word Mommy meant. But even then she had
known that she must keep this box hidden, what it would do to the mother she
knew if it was found, so she did just that. Everything she ever thought
about her real mother, anything she ever dreamed about her, any images in
her head, or moms she had seen on TV, or even things she thought she
remembered, she had put in this box. Either drawing, or writing down what
she thought or saw, or even simply picking up things that reminded Isabel of
her mother for whatever reason, she put in this box. That was why it was so
heavy. Isabel had thought about her mother constantly, even more as a child
than now, and the box was full of papers and drawings, but what really made
up the weight were the stones. As a child she had always thought of her
mother when she saw a smooth stone. It had taken her a very long time to
reason out why, but when she had last taken out this box, she figured it
out. Those smooth stones reminded her of the stones the four of them had
used in the cave, the ones that led to her mother appearing. She had no idea
how she had know about those stones as a child, but she must have, at least
subconsciously. Picking up a fistful, she was surprised that some felt hot
to the touch. Taking the hot ones from the rest, she peered in vain through
the dimness under the bed at them, and felt them with her fingers. It
seemed, as she touched them, that they were saying something, trying to tell
her something of vast importance, and she could almost make out through the
small light a design of some sort on the stones....

A throat cleared behind her, and she jumped, knocking her head on the bottom
of her bed. Realizing it had be Alex, she cursed silently, all thoughts of
the stones forgotten, grabbed the plastic bag, and stuffed it into her
mother box. It didn't really go there, but if she was just a normal average
American teenager, getting the stuff in that shopping bag would have been
something she did with her mother, just as it was something she had done
with her mother here. Suddenly realizing that she was on the floor with her
butt sticking up in the air, she scrambled out from beneath the bed. There
was absolutely no way to explain her behavior, she decided, so just say as
little as possible.

"I straightening up," she stammered, avoiding Alex's piercing
gaze. She finally allowed herself a look at him, though. As she was looking
at her mother box, the thought had crossed her mind that maybe all this
"alien stuff" would help her stop the undeniable attraction she had been
feeling for Alex tonight, but no such luck.
Just looking at him took her breath away. His muscles were defined even through his too-tight wife beater. Alex always looked so dorky, and that had helped Isabel keep a reign
on her emotions before, but tonight, in decent jeans and just that tight
shirt, she had no such defense. He looked absolutely adorable tonight, and
as she finally met his gaze, his eyes almost made her weak in the knees. She
felt like some idiotic 7th grader seeing someone like Tom Cruise in person,
ready to faint at the sight of him, yet that did nothing to off set the
effect he was having on her.
She thought she could lose herself in those eyes, but even as she was about to, she saw the pain in them, and stopped herself. Alex did not come here tonight for you to stare at him, she reminded herself sharply.
He has always been there for you through your problems, now you be there for him through his.

Walking over to him, she reached out gently to take his bags, and then set
them down beside the bed. She grabbed his arm and sat down on the bed,
pulling him down with her. She turned to look at him, pulling one of her
legs up underneath her, and stared into his face intently.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly, putting her hand over his
comfortingly. Her eyes searched his face trying to discover his real answer,
whatever he said aloud.

"Not... yet. Maybe later, after I've had time to sort it out in my own mind.
Would you mind if we just went to sleep now? I'm exhausted from running
around all night, and I think that would probably be best." He too eyed her
as if searching for something, but she could see the weariness in his face.

"Sure, I don't mind at all. You get the bed, and I brought blankets so I-''
He didn't allow her to finish.

"What! You are not sleeping on the floor! This is your house, and your room,
and your bed! I am not going to push you onto the floor!"

Isabel could tell he intended to be stubborn about this, but she was not
about to bend an inch. "I am sleeping on the floor and you are sleeping on
the bed, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You have been
through enough tonight, you do not need to be sleeping on any floors, and I
am going to sleep on the floor whether you do or not, so you might as well
take the bed!"

"Then I am sleeping on the floor too," he retorted, "so you can do what ever
you want but I am taking the floor!"

Isabel sighed. God, but he could be stubborn! "How about we share the bed?
It's a compromise. And you are going to sleep in the bed if I have to hold
you there all night, so it's either both of us in the bed or just you."
Suddenly the image of her holding him on the bed all night popped into her
head, and she blushed. She hoped he would take it for anger, rather than
embarrassment. Despite her blush, she continued to stare at him
unwaveringly, and she watched as hundreds of protests died on his lips.
Grumbling, he shifted around on the bed, and then stood up.

"Fine," he said unhappily, "But I want it on the record that this is under
protest. Especially if Max walks in," he added under his breath, and Isabel
was sure she was not supposed to hear that. She hid a laugh in a cough, and
stood up too.

"I would like to change, if you don't mind," he said, daring her to
contradict him again. "That's fine," Isabel said, "but would you mind
changing in the closet? Even if they got up to go to the bathroom, no one in
this house would notice if you knocked them over, but they might remember in
the morning." She looked at him apologetically, and then pointed to the
closet door.

Grumbling, he grabbed his bag and stomped into the closet, slamming the door
behind him. As soon as the door closed, Isabel collapsed onto the bed,
heaving a sigh of relief. She could not believe what an effort it was to
stay focused on acting normal, not letting any of her attraction show
through. She was not sure she was doing that great a job, either. And when
he had mentioned changing!

Giving herself a mental shake, she stood up and unconsciously began pacing.
I should not be acting like this, she thought, I am not some lovesick child
who has never even been kissed. I am Isabel Evans, who has guys practically
lining up to go out with her. I need to snap out of this.

The closet door opened mid-pace, and Isabel whirled on Alex. She was vaguely
surprised to see him; in her haste to forget him and the effect he was
having on her, she almost had. Taking a breath to steady herself, she tried
to think calmly. Her mind settled on what was coming next, though, and she
almost started pacing again. Now they had to get into bed together! She was
not sure if she could do this. Not only was it going to be extremely hard to
smother her attraction while sharing a bed, the actual process of getting
into bed with him was going to be so unbelievably awkward, she was sure. She
sighed resignedly. There is nothing to do but go on, she thought. Smiling,
or attempting to, she turned to him.

"Ready for bed?" she asked a little too cheerily. Not really waiting for his
answer, she pulled the covers down on her bed-and almost jumped when she
recognized a velvet bra among the bed sheets. In one quick motion she hopped
into the bed, grabbed the bra in what she hoped was a nonchalant motion, and
threw it violently under the bed. Giving her a look that seemed to imply she
was out of her mind, Alex slipped into the other side of the bed, pulling
the covers up to his chin. It was only then that she realized what her mind
had been trying to block out since Alex stepped out of the closet. All he
was wearing was boxers.
Attempting to think rationally, she saw that he had probably anticipated sleeping at Michael's and hadn't brought anything else to wear, but one part of her mind was gibbering that she was alone in her room in her bed with a half dressed man to whom she was feeling very attracted at this moment.
Deciding dark would be best, considering she would not be tempted to look under the covers at his washboard stomach or his amazing shoulders, she turned the lights out from the bed, and then tried to relax.
Maybe some more alien stuff will help me, she thought, none too
hopefully. I can turn out lights without getting out of bed, she chanted in
her head. I am not normal. Somehow, it did not seem to be helping.

The fact that using her powers had little to no effect on Alex actually made
her love him more, because he was so accepting of everything about her. As a
friend, of course. He just sighed and turned onto his side. The fact that he
is facing me means absolutely nothing, she told herself, and I just feel
like turning onto my right side. It has absolutely nothing to do with the
fact that now I am facing him. Looking at his face, though, Isabel realized
that she had made the right choice in facing him, whatever her reasons. He
was ready to talk. Putting a hand underneath her cheek, she got ready to lis

The Beginning's End Part 3