Snapshot · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

60. Une Affaire Secrète

The Parkers' Residence
Michael's room
(2003) Max is 17, Liz is 16

"Michael's phone."

There was a hitch at the other end of the line and then dead silence.

"Uhm...anyone there?"

"Max?"

His heart clenched when he recognized her broken voice. "Parker?"

"Where's Michael?"

There was a sniffle and Max sank down on Michael's bed, a bad feeling etching itself in his chest. "He's taking a shower."

There was a weird sound, something that Liz probably had intended to be a snort. "Why are you in my brother's room when he's taking a shower? Isn't that a little too soon after the gay allegations?"

Max tensed. That was a blow under the belt. "The allegations you invented."

She sniffled. "Whatever."

"Isn't it in the middle of the night for you? Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep by now?"

"Don't need it," Liz mumbled. "Look. I just wanted to talk to Michael."

Max's grip on the phone tightened as her voice tensed, becoming more distant. "He just hopped in. He'll probably be another five minutes."

There was a heart-wrenching sob that had Max wanting to rip his heart out so he would never have to feel anything that was connected to that feeling again.

"Kitten? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing. I just want to speak to my brother."

"How about you talk to me until he's out of the shower?"

"Why would I want to talk to you?"

Max bit back the comeback that was immediately at the tip of his tongue. If she hadn't been crying on the other end of the line he would've made sure that she knew that she couldn't just treat him like shit. But right now, if treating him like shit made her stop crying, he was going to let her.

"Just to pass time I guess. If you need someone to talk to."

There was a long pause.

Just as Max was about to ask if she was still there, she inhaled deeply and said, "Paris sucks."

"Really? I thought it was the city of romance. The best city in Europe."

"They only speak French here-"

Max couldn't help but laugh. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, babe, but you're in France."

"It's not that," Liz huffed offended. "It's the fact that they won't listen to me just because I speak English."

Max tried his best to keep his smile out of his voice. He was almost positive this whole crying episode didn't have anything to do with the French people. It made him realize how much he'd missed her. Missed arguing with her. She'd only been gone for three days but apparently that was enough for him to miss his daily dose of Liz's obnoxious brattiness.

"Come on, it can't be that bad-"

"It sucks!"

"You've got the Eiffel Tower and the baguettes and the croissants and the frogs-"

"It doesn't matter," she said, her breaking voice putting an abrupt halt to his amusement.

"Okay. Okay. Croissants aside, are you okay?"

There was another pause, whereby Max for some reason pictured her chewing on her bottom lip. It just seemed like a thing Liz Parker would do in that moment.