Disclaimer: Roswell, the characters, and the situations are owned by the WB. No infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This story is part of an evolving storyline that currently includes (in order): "Decisions," "Looking In," "Christmas Envy," "From Another Place," "Husbands and Fathers," "Claudia and Nicole," "Stars", "Going Home", "The Ethics Lesson", "Redefining Terms", "Beginnings", "First Date", "A Quality Heart", "In Every Ending", "Birth", "Rose Petals", "The Littlest Czechoslovakian", "Girls' Night In", "A Guy Thing", and "Joshua and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day". More stories may be forthcoming.

Additional Author’s Note: This "songfic trilogy" -- the prologue to the first story in my future arc, "Decisions" -- uses three songs by Leonard Cohen to describe three different places in three very different relationships. "Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye" may be found on any Cohen ‘greatest hits’ compilation. "Coming Back To You" and "Dance Me To The End of Love" may be found on Cohen’s album, "Various Positions." All three songs are copyrighted to Leonard Cohen. No infringement intended.

* * * *

Morning

Alex and Isabel

Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm...

In the morning, he watched her as she slept. Even after two years, he was still amazed that such a goddess was in his bed. Hell, most of the guys in his House were amazed.

Privately, he thought that that was because they had no imagination. It was completely inconceivable to them that a girl whose statuesque beauty seemed more typical of an actress or a model than a pre-law student would date a nerdy dork like Alex Whitman.

And that was because they just saw how beautiful she was on the outside. They didn’t look deeper to see that her beauty inside outshone her beauty outside the way the sun outshone, no, eclipsed the moon.

As he watched her sleep, he ran his fingertips lightly down her spine, thinking about how surprising she was. For such a self-contained person, she slept with wild abandon, with her arms sprawled across the bed and her legs tangled in the sheets. Her long blonde hair was a riot of gold against the white pillow. And her skin seemed to glow with its own light, like silken, supple sunshine.

Sometimes, he thought as he counted the delicate ridges of her spine, she was so blindingly beautiful that looking at her was like staring straight into the sun.

Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you...

He liked to watch her sleep because he liked the freedom of looking and musing over her without her freaking out that he was being obsessive.

Although he was obsessed. He always had been.

Maybe it was something in the Evans genes, he mused, whatever it was that attracted him to her, whatever it was that left him feeling as if his life revolved around hers the way the earth orbits around the sun.

Maybe it *was* something in the Evans genes, because Liz was as obsessed about Max as Alex was about Max’s sister. Or maybe it was something about Czechoslovakians in general, because Maria was no less obsessed about Michael, even when their on-again/off-again relationship was off-again.

Alex’s and Isabel’s relationship was different than theirs, though, slower. They were taking things slowly because neither of them was ready or able to deal with the violent crashes into intimacy that characterized Liz and Max’s and Maria and Michael’s relationships.

So they were taking their relationship slowly, keeping pace with each other, ever moving together even though it happened slowly, even though they spent most of their time these days being separated by miles.

But now it’s come to distances and both of us must try,
Your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

He hated Monday mornings. They were always dismal, even when the sun was shining.

Every Monday, she packed her things back into the two overstuffed suitcases she insisted on dragging back and forth from her college to his for their weekends together. Every Monday, she headed back to her college and her pre-law program and a whole week away from him.

Sometimes the only thing that kept him sane during their weeks apart were the songs he wrote for her ... those songs, and knowing that she hated being apart as much as he did.

She hated Monday mornings too. She looked at him the same way every Monday morning, as if it were killing her to leave him again. But despite that sad look in her eyes, she never said the words that he most needed to hear.

But he understood. That wasn’t her way. She wasn’t ready yet.

I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time,
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
It’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea...

In a way, being separated was good for their relationship. Being separated ensured that they went as slowly as they needed to, as she needed them to.

He knew she loved him, but he also knew that she wasn’t ready to say the l-word out loud. He had promised himself that he would never ask for the word or the commitment until she was ready....

She shifted in her sleep then turned over, twisting the bed sheet around her waist in the process. He wrapped a strand of her flaxen hair around his finger and smiled again at what a surprisingly unrestrained sleeper she was.

Then he glanced at the bedside clock and sighed. Soon he would have to wake her so she could head back to her college in time for a noon class. Soon, but not yet.

The word "soon" reminded him of his resolve to wait for her to be ready. He had been waiting for so long already. What was a little longer?

But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie,
Your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

The look in her eyes whenever they said goodbye gave him the strength to wait, he reassured himself as he listened to her shower and then watched her finish getting ready to leave.

A little later, as he watched her drive away, he shoved the ring he had wanted to give her the night before deeper in his pants pocket. He waved goodbye to her with his other hand, and she waved back.

It hadn’t been the right time to give her the ring, he had decided at the last minute. She wasn’t ready yet. She was still afraid, still clutching the shards of her mantle as a one-time ice princess, still telling herself that they were too different to be anything together.

So he had decided that it wasn’t the right time, that she still wasn’t ready to take the next step. And he would never push her. Because she would be ready eventually, and when she was....

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie,
Your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye.

When she was ready, he would offer her that ring. Because he wouldn’t allow her to give up on a relationship that they both knew deep down could sustain them for the rest of their lives. He wouldn’t allow her to say goodbye forever to something because she was too afraid to reach out for what she wanted.

They were meant to be each other’s home on this earth. She just had to find the courage to reach for him. But until she found that courage and was ready to talk about and make that commitment, he could wait.

So he shoved the diamond ring deeper into his pocket and smiled and waved as she drove farther and farther away from him, until all he could make out was her golden hair, a flash of brightness in the car’s rear window.

* * * *

Day Into Evening

Michael and Maria

Coming Back To You

Maybe I’m still hurting
I can’t turn the other cheek
But you know that I still love you
It’s just that I can’t speak

The sun was high in the sky and he was hitchhiking home when it occurred to him that his relationship with Maria DeLuca was like a piano crashing down a flight of stairs. They crashed into each other’s arms with a similar kind of violent inevitability, producing the same jangled, beautiful, unexpected music.

He would never tell her that though.

He had never found it easy to talk about how he felt. He believed in showing, rather than telling. Which was why he had thanked her with a napkin holder instead of just a note or even a word back in high school after she helped save his life.

I looked for you in everyone
And they called me on that too
I lived alone but I was only
Coming back to you

He found it almost irritating the way everyone expected them to be together. Just because Max and Liz couldn’t stay away from each other. Just because Isabel and Alex were getting together at their odd snail’s-pace. The world wasn’t exclusively designed for couples, he’d protested once.

Another time he had gotten mad at Max about it. Max had just smiled that irritating know-it-all smile of his and told him to stop fighting the inevitable. Like he was one to talk.

Ah, they’re shutting down the factory now
Just when all the bills are due
And the fields they’re under lock and key
Tho’ the rain and the sun come through
And springtime starts but then it stops
In the name of something new
And all the senses rise against this
Coming back to you

Stupid New Mexico sunshine, he muttered to himself as he kept walking and no hitchhiking opportunities materialized. He glared at the desert sloping down from either side of the road, stretching towards the horizon. And he was hit by the ridiculous observation that the sun seemed to set the sand on fire.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he kept walking. And as he walked along the shoulder of the road, glaring at the sand, he remembered how he’d always imagined that there had to be something better than Roswell, New Mexico, for him. He had gotten as far as Albuquerque for art college. But every weekend, he kept finding himself on the road between Albuquerque and Roswell, heading towards Roswell and to her.

She had decided to stay in Roswell. Partly because she didn’t want to leave her mother. Partly because she liked to devote whatever time she had leftover after studying to the challenge of figuring out how to tie her mother’s old alien knick-knack business to the Crashdown Café’s restaurant business. And it was easy enough for her to commute from Roswell to UNM for her business and literature classes.

And because she had decided to stay in Roswell, he kept coming back to that backwater New Mexico town, to a home he had always resented because he knew it wasn’t really his home.

And they’re handing down my sentence now
And I know what I must do

Sometimes he thought it was his life sentence to be stuck in Roswell.

But every time that thought popped into his head, he always changed his mind. Maybe as a life sentence, it wasn’t such a bad thing … as long as she was there too. Even if she still called him a "cheesehead" and a "boogerbutt" every once in a while.

It would be so easy, he realized, just to give in to what his best friends told him was his inevitable fate, what he knew inside was all he needed to make him whole. All he had to do was the say the words he knew she wanted to hear, words about home and commitment and a dove and a door opening.

Another mile of silence while I’m
Coming back to you

As he trudged along the old highway, the sinking sun beating down on the desert all around him, he felt weighted down by the silence of the waning afternoon. And he was amazed to realize how much he was looking forward to her non-stop talking, her waving hands, her dancing feet, her glorious eyes.

He was amazed to realize that he couldn’t wait to see her.

There are many in your life
And many still to be
Since you are a shining light
There’s many that you’ll see

But I have to deal with envy
When you choose the precious few
Who’ve left their pride on the other side of
Coming back to you

She was a prism of light, a shining rainbow brightening his dark sky after a rain shower. Her vivaciousness, her goodness drew people to her, just as it drew him.

She was always surrounded by people who loved her, people who were more worthy of her than he ever could be.

And he was too proud to beg.

He kicked a stone along the road, regretting that he would always be outside her window in the rain, looking through that glass barrier at the dancing sunshine she gathered around herself so that she seemed surrounded by woodland sprites of light and water.

He kicked the stone again, irritated at the way his brain produced all these ridiculous similes and metaphors whenever he thought about her.

And then he remembered how she had drawn him inside that night, the last night of his un-emancipation, and offered him a towel, and then offered him the warmth of her bed and the comfort of just sleeping in her arms.

Even in your arms I know
I’ll never get it right
Even when you bend to give me
Comfort in the night
I’ve got to have your word on this
Or none of it is true
And all I’ve said was just instead of
Coming back to you

The afternoon was verging into evening, and the sun had almost finished its descent into darkness. He kept walking towards the town where he’d grown up. And all he could think about was the warmth of her skin and the comfort of her arms. And how unworthy he was of both.

But he knew she would reassure him that he was when he finally got to Roswell.

Her too-generous heart saw something redeeming in him, saw something that caused her soul to reach out to his, something that caused her arms to draw him near. Which was why he was always coming back to the home he found in her arms. Which was why he almost found himself forgetting that there was another home out there in the stars somewhere, just waiting for him to find it.

* * * *

Night

Max and Liz

Dance Me To The End Of Love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ‘til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love

Night had fallen slowly. If he would have tried to describe it, he would have said that it had fallen like a dark curtain pulled back from a window inch by inch, revealing gradually, slowly millions of fragile flowers of light, star blooms, twinkling in the dark sky.

He smiled sheepishly at himself in the dark. Sometimes even just holding her was enough to make him to spout poetry. He could just imagine Michael rolling his eyes.

He shifted a little so that he could see her face better in the faint starlight. And for a moment as he shifted, he was distracted by the v-shaped constellation outside the window that made up his one-time home.

Then he pulled her closer, breathing her in, breathing in her warm arms and her rose perfume, and he realized not for the first time that home for him had always been in her beautiful dark eyes ... not up in the sky.

When he looked into her eyes, everything seemed so simple. There was no excruciating decision to make about going home or staying with her; there was no nagging choice between his sister and his best friend and the girl for whom he’d risked everything. There was no internal tug-of-war between wanting to keep her safe and wanting to keep her in his arms until the stars fell from the sky.

It was just ... simple.

He just tightened his arms around her and knew in his soul that he was home.

Their night together had been the most passionate experience of his life. A dinner of eating Chinese takeout and studying biochemistry hadn’t ended as platonically as it had begun. And now the girl he’d loved his whole life was asleep in his arms, in his bed, in his room.

With tender fingers, he smoothed her dark hair away from her face. And his heart squeezed in his chest when she smiled in her sleep and moved a little closer, as soft and eager as a kitten seeking warmth.

Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love

Holding her, it felt like there were no limits to what might be possible for them.

Holding her, it felt like there was no decision in his future that mattered except the decision he had just made to keep her in his arms for as long as she wanted to be there.

For the past five years -- for the past fifteen years -- he had felt so many decisions pressing down on him, pressing down as if they were living things that would suffocate him and then run off, until they were hopping and skipping ahead of him, just out of sight. And then something would cause them to come back and press down again, harder than before. Sometimes it felt like if he could only run fast enough, he would catch up to them, get them over with. And sometimes it felt like if he could only slow down enough, he might never have to face them.

Staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, holding his soulmate in his arms, he admitted to himself that he had been so afraid of making the wrong decisions that he had put stupid limits on himself and his relationship with her.

After spending the night in the shelter of her arms, he knew that those limits -- insisting he needed to keep her safe at all costs, believing that his balance was off when she was at his side, thinking they were too different -- were artificial barriers, Max-made walls of ice that dissolved in the heat of their passion and the intensity of their connection.

He had been stupid for so long.

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Dance me to the end of love

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her sleeping form and remembered the time that he had tried to take a step back from her. That step backwards had set the tone for their relationship since then.

He hadn’t wanted their relationship to screech to a halt, he had told her. He had just wanted it to slow down.

And it had. For the past four years, he and Liz had worked at being friends first ... not counting the times they hadn’t been able to help themselves and had reached for each other. Not counting the various small and not-so-small bumps along the way.

Friends first ... but no more.

When he had reached for her earlier that evening, unable to stop himself from kissing her, unable to stop himself from pushing their notebooks and textbooks off the bed and gently laying her back against the pillow, he had realized not for the first time that taking a step -- a giant leap -- forward was bowing to the inevitable ... the inevitable home he saw shining in her eyes.

She had waited so patiently, waited for him to wrestle with his indecisions and his fears. And the whole time she had waited, their future had been shining in her eyes, waiting for him to have the courage to recognize it: a home, a wedding, a child, a love that lasted beyond the end of love.

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Their shared future had always been in her eyes.

It was time to take a step forward.

He had decided that he wasn’t going to try to make decisions on his own anymore.

He thought about the fact that both of them had decided separately to continue their studies in Boston. He had already applied and been accepted to Harvard Medical School. She had applied and been accepted into the doctoral program in Harvard’s Department of Molecular Biology. Both of them had made decisions separately that were the means to their staying together.

Although there were still things that worried him, issues that still needed to be resolved, he had finally admitted that his fear of being without her was greater than his fear of being with her.

So the last decision he would make unilaterally for himself was the decision to offer her the shelter of his arms for as long as she wanted him.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love

Without her, he was a lost soul. With her, looking into her warm, beautiful eyes, he was home. And he wanted to hold her in his arms every night for the rest of his life.

Because there was no end to love, he thought as he watched the first tendrils of light begin to thread their way over the horizon. And as he watched the dancing light, he realized not for the first time that the brightening sky obscured the five stars of his one-time home ... a home that could never compare with the home he had found in her eyes.

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