She couldn’t stand to be without it for in it was her life with Max. Before she sent it to her father, she made a copy. This wasn’t her original journal that had been sent back to her father, with the request that he burn it and spread it’s ashes on the graves of Max and Alex. Her seatmate asleep, Liz reached into her backpack and extracted her journal.
She changed busses, routes and direction several times, but she could never shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Nothing anybody could say could dissuade Liz from her decision to leave, and on a brisk fall morning, she climbed aboard a bus heading east. But I can’t do that if I’m hanging on to the remnants of my old life.” I need to get on with my life – or start a new life.
“Max is dead, he’s not coming back, and seeing all of you, day after day, just makes it harder to bear. “Michael, I have to do this,” Liz sighed. He didn’t know which was harder, telling Liz and Isabel what had happened, or getting in that damned microvan and leaving, knowing they’d never see Max again. She withdrew into herself and didn’t talk to anybody for a long time. Isabel reacted in typical Isabel way, she yelled and screamed and cried. Someone, Michael could only assume they were a part of the Special Unit, forced his motorcycle off the road. Max was dead, and it was his fault.Īfter they fled the gym on that fateful graduation night, the Special Unit had followed them as they made their way out of town. Michael flinched at the harshness of her words.
“What Max would have wanted is immaterial, Michael. “Liz, Max would have wanted you to stay with us,” Michael answered. She didn’t know who he was, or where he was, but he was watching her, day and night.
Disclaimer: Roswell belongs to first to Melinda Metz, then to Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox.
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