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

Author's Note: This story is the part of an evolving future storyline. All the stories currently in this storyline are included in order on the Future Arc page.

Dedicated to Emily and Lacy, Who Suggested It, and Joe

Liz wasn’t happy.

The frigid mid-Atlantic wind kept whipping her long brown hair around her face so that she needed to use both hands to keep it out of her eyes. Not that it mattered so much that she couldn’t see, she thought darkly, because there wasn’t a whole lot to look at on this godforsaken cobble-stoned and gray-shingled island.

Thoroughly disgusted, Liz frowned at Max. "This is crazy!" she said for the thousandth time since they’d left Boston. "It’s the middle of December. It’s freezing!"

When Max looked up from the map he was studying and grinned at her, Liz recognized the look in his eyes. It was his indulgent look, the look that appeared in his eyes whenever she said or did something he found amusing. Which was a lot of the time lately.

He was driving her insane, she decided.

Max put down the map and pulled her towards him. "Maria insisted that all women deserve island honeymoons," he said patiently. "She warned me that if I didn’t take you to an island for our honeymoon she would never forgive me for getting you pregnant. I have a feeling that I’m going to need her on my side over the next sixty years or so, so here we are." He enfolded her in his arms to shelter her from the wind sweeping off the ocean. "Is that better?"

"No," Liz grumbled as she burrowed closer. "I’m sure Maria meant a warm island, Max."

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "This isn’t so bad, Miss Grumpy."

"Who are you calling grumpy?" Liz demanded, outraged.

Max laughed. "You, Miss Grumpy."

Liz pulled away to glare at him. "I’m more than entitled to be grumpy. My hormones are going crazy, and I’m stuck on an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of winter." She shivered away from his warmth and quickly moved back into the circle of his arms. "Why did we leave California?" she moaned into his chest. "No, why did we leave New Mexico?"

"The answer to that is another question: which one of us dreamed her whole life of going to Harvard?" Max teased.

Liz glanced up at him testily. "Yeah, right. Like Harvard Med wasn’t a draw for you."

And suddenly all of the laughter and teasing went out of Max’s face. "Liz. It was you. Always you. I followed you across the country to Boston, but I would’ve followed you anywhere. Harvard Med was important for my future, but never as much as you were."

"Oh!" Liz was breathlessly pleased by his romantic words. Her bad mood evaporated, leaving her feeling vaguely guilty. She peeked up at her long-suffering husband. "I’m sorry I’m whining," she said sheepishly.

"Don’t be. I understand." Max smiled and tightened his arms around her. "Come on. Let’s get to the bed-and-breakfast, which I finally found on the map." He gave her another teasing look. "You know I just want to keep the you warm. I told you that a long time ago, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Laughing, Liz slapped his arm lightly. "How could I forget? You chickened out from saying what you really meant and fixed the jeep instead."

"I did not chicken out." Max sounded offended.

"Yes, you did. You could’ve kissed me -- you wanted to kiss me -- but you chickened out." Liz stood on tiptoe to kiss his consternated expression away.

Max shook his head at her, and Liz noticed that the indulgent, bemused look was in his eyes again. "I can just tell these mood swings are going to make this a long six months," he said under his breath.

She punched his arm. "I heard that! If you don’t like it, then you shouldn’t have gotten me pregnant, Mr. Evans."

"Oh, it was just me, was it, Mrs. Evans? Whatever happened to ‘it takes two to tango’?"

"I’m cold, Max," Liz reminded him, neatly sidestepping his question. She tucked her arm in his and batted her eyelashes up at him. "Take me to this bed-and-breakfast you keep talking about."

* * * *

After they checked into the bed-and-breakfast, Liz decided to take a nap. It had become apparent early in her pregnancy that one of the symptoms of her "delicate condition" was an inability to stay awake longer than four hours straight. She found it incredibly annoying to be either throwing up or falling asleep constantly. It made her irritable. That was why when Max said he wanted to explore the town a bit before dinner, she snapped. "Fine! Go, Max. Leave me here. Have fun without your pregnant wife tying you down!"

If Liz hadn’t been so irrationally irritated by everything, she would have laughed at how astonished Max looked. But then that little bemused look had crept into his eyes again, and she saw red. "I can hang out here, if you want," he offered gently.

"No!" Liz snapped as she slid under the bedclothes. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and turned her back on him. "Just go. You don’t care how I feel anyway." She could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

"Liz..." Max began.

"Leave, Max. Go explore. That’s what you always want to do anyway."

"Liz, this is ridiculous...." Liz heard him take a step towards the bed, then his sigh, then his retreating steps before the door shut behind him.

Once she was sure he had gone, she let her tears fall. She felt miserable. She felt like she was on a hormonally-induced emotional see-saw all the time. And she kept taking out her bad moods on Max. It was a good thing that he was the most patient man in the world, she thought; otherwise their brand-new marriage wasn’t going to survive her pregnancy. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she would have to apologize again when he got back.

When Liz woke up, she felt blessedly warm. Someone has started a fire in the fireplace, and there were candles everywhere. Smiling, she snuggled under the bed’s mountain of blankets and quilts and peeked up at the lacy canopy above her. Maybe Maria’s idea about an island honeymoon wasn’t so bad after all, she thought.

She felt the bed dip as Max sat beside her. "Hey," he said cautiously.

She smiled brightly at him. "Hey."

"Feeling less grumpy?"

Liz gave him her most contrite apologetic look. "I’m sorry, Max."

"That’s okay." He kissed her forehead, then leaned back to study her face. "So, is it okay if I slide in beside you, or are you still mad at me?"

Liz held out her arms to him. "I wasn’t mad at you. I was just ... grumpy."

"Tell me about it," Max murmured as he slid into the bed and into her arms. "I have to keep reminding myself that it’s hormones."

After a couple of minutes of just holding each other, Liz asked, "So, where did you go?"

"I went out exploring. I found a grocery store, so I bought you some Galaxy Chocolate Swirl ice cream, because--" he grinned at her-- "I thought the name was appropriate. And I also got us some extra Tabasco sauce." He laughed. "Wanna hear something funny? The little old lady who rang up my purchases kept looking at me strangely because of all the bottles of Tabasco, so I pretended I had a Spanish accent so that she would think I was Mexican and not be suspicious." He laughed again. "I think it worked, but we should probably avoid that grocery store from now on. I don’t know if I’m cut out for fake accents over an extended period of time."

Liz laughed. "Max, you’re so paranoid. She probably just thought you were weird, not that you were an alien. Most people don’t automatically assume that, you know. Especially in Massachusetts where there are so many students around, you couldn’t tell an alien from a student even if you tried." She ran a finger down his cheek. "You don’t need to be so paranoid, Max. Really."

"Being extra-careful isn’t bad," he defended himself. "I need to protect you." He placed a hand against her slightly rounded tummy. "Both of you."

Feeling completely loved and protected, Liz nodded. She understood how he felt. She honestly felt that she could kill -- or at least severely mangle -- anyone who might threaten the safety of their child.

Max’s hand was making lazy circles on her stomach when he suddenly stilled. She looked up to see his eyes filled with wonder. "Liz. She kicked...."

He moved so that he could replace his hand on her stomach with his lips, tracing their baby’s tiny movements with angel-wing kisses that were so soft they brought tears to her eyes. She reached down to stroke his hair off his forehead, and he smiled up at her.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked lightly.

"I’m getting to know our daughter," he whispered against her skin as he kissed her tummy again. Then he paused, shot a quick glance down her body, and his cheeks reddened slightly. "I was also thinking of our wedding. About our vows. About, um, worshipping you with my body."

Laughing, Liz slapped his shoulder. "Michael was right. You *are* just a horndog."

Max grinned unrepentantly. "I prefer the term ‘normal adult male’ -- we’ll leave off the alien part for now -- with a very beautiful wife. And it *is* our honeymoon...."

"True." Liz tugged him back up so she could kiss him properly. "Max, do you regret it ever? Our decision to keep this baby?"

Max was silent for a couple of minutes. Liz guessed that he was trying to understand where her out-of-the-blue question had come from. Finally he said, "No, I don’t regret it. The timing wasn’t the best, and I’m still scared about what could happen to you. But I couldn’t not want our baby, Liz." He tightened his arms around her. "She’s us, Liz. She’s one of the dreams I had that I never thought could come true. You were my first dream come true, Liz. Our baby is my second."

Liz was touched. "You’re my dream come true too, Max."

"It was fate," he murmured against her lips. "No, it was destiny."

Liz stiffened and pulled away from him. "I hate that word."

"Why?" he asked, sounding confused.

"Because it makes me feel guilty."

His beautiful eyes were soft with understanding. "Don’t. This is what I wanted, what I needed. You’re everything I ever wanted, Liz. I have no regrets. Not about choosing you. Not about choosing this life. Not about choosing to keep our baby."

"Thank you," Liz whispered as she moved back into his embrace.

They stayed like that for a while, until Max sat up. He shot her a teasing look. "Since you keep ping-ponging in and out of my arms, I expect this won’t last. And I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been wanting to tell you since you woke up about my surprise for the rest of the evening."

"A surprise?" Liz couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

Max swung his legs out of the bed and got up. "Yup. A surprise. We’re having a picnic."

"Not outside?" Liz asked hopefully.

"Nope. Right inside." He took her hand and pulled her out of the bed. "I was busy while you were sleeping...."

She was amazed by the sight before her. On the floor was a blue and green plaid blanket with two place-settings of white bone china and silver cutlery. In the middle of the blanket sat a wicker picnic basket. Liz knelt down to peek into the basket. Inside were two champagne glasses, a bottle of sparkling white grape juice, and a feast of all her current favorite dishes: peanut butter and sardine sandwiches drenched in Tabasco sauce, canned peaches soaking in soy sauce, shrimp rolls with coriander, and powder-sugar-coated chocolate cannoli.

The boxes containing the last two dishes made her pause. She traced a finger over the names on the side of each box, marveling at Max’s thoughtfulness. "My god, Max. These are shrimp rolls from China Pearl’s dim sum. And these are cream-filled cannoli from Mike’s Pastry in the North End." She hugged the boxes to her chest. "You went all over Boston to find my favorite food and dragged it all the way here so we could have a picnic in our room. I can’t believe you did this for me. Especially since I’ve been so grumpy and impossible lately." She couldn’t stop her happy tears from spilling over. "Max, I don’t deserve you. Why did you even choose to love me?"

Max dropped down beside her and gathered her into his arms. Stifling a smile, he said in all seriousness, "Because of your knees."

"My knees?"

"Yup. There are these tiny little scars on your knees from when you fell off your bike when you were little. And there’s also this little scar on your eyebrow."

Liz stared at him. "You chose me because of my scars?"

"No, Liz. I chose you because of your smell. It’s a mixture of roses and soap and you."

"I smell good," Liz concluded, still staring at him. "That’s good. I think."

"You feel good too. You feel like heaven."

Liz let out a small laugh. "Let me get this straight. I smell good, and I feel good. That’s why you love me."

"I also love you because of your little habit of tucking your hair behind your ears, which you never notice. And because of how you bite your bottom lip when you get nervous. And because you never say a bad thing about anybody, although you came pretty close to saying bad things about Pam Troy in high school. And because of your smile."

"But those are such boring things."

"Liz. Nothing about you could ever be boring. I love you because you’re you. My life started when I told you everything, and now I just exist because of you. Liz, what we have ... it’s the real thing. I would’ve been crazy to let you go."

"The real thing," Liz repeated, feeling a happy warmth spread through her. "Yes, that’s exactly what this is."

* * * *

The rest of their honeymoon passed in a blur of laughter and love-making, and in Liz’s case, the occasional, pregnancy-related bad mood.

When they were supposed to leave Nantucket to return to Boston, Liz was sorry to say goodbye to her honeymoon island. Even before they stepped on to the ferry bound for Hyannisport, she missed the island’s gas-lit pubs and cranberry wreaths and brass pineapple knockers on welcoming doors.

But then she remembered that the best part about having found the real thing was that she got to bring the real thing home with her. Every day with Max was a honeymoon. Especially since he was the most patient man in the world.

Which was a good thing considering how her mood swings seemed to work.

Tucking her arm in his as they watched the ferry dock get smaller and smaller, Liz smiled up at Max. Mood swings were just mood swings, she reflected; they came and went, but they didn’t affect the most important thing in the world, which was how they felt about each other.

And that was why, Liz thought as she leaned her head against Max’s shoulder ... that was why she was happy.

Back to Area 51 (Section I)