Author: becky rttavi@aol.com
Pairing: No pairing Maria/Liz
Disclaimer: I own nothing Roswell except for a boatload of merchandise that I'm hoarding.
Rating: G
Spoilers: Stick this somewhere in the middle/near end of season three…
Muse #5 Armor - Permission - Flourish - Stream
~*~
Light and airy, uninhibited. The notes from the radio wafted through the room so low they were barely audible. Outside, the sky was dark, thick with the onset of rain. The lights were dim; candles were lit. Aromatic sandalwood filled their senses.
Two old friends sat cross-legged on the floor, their knees almost touching. Words didn't seem important; words were just something that got abused and worn-out. Words were irrelevant when they had been dormant for so long.
The armor they had shielded themselves inside of for so long was punctured. Trying to hide the beauty of an otherwise ugly world. Restless in their own skin, mocking ordinary. In their short years they had shared many lifetimes of surprises and pain.
They had each endured heartache that others couldn't possibly understand. They had felt betrayal at its most lethal axis. They had felt loss for a fallen friend who got ensnared in their web of deception. The flourish of lies that slid so easily from their mouths. The late nights of conspiracy and suspense. The horrors they had shared and then buried deep within themselves.
They had shared a clandestine life.
Maria DeLuca reached to Liz parker and took her hand in her own. She smiled as she was filled with the warmth of something that no one could take away from them. A reawakened friendship.
Liz met her friend's tempestuous eyes with her own hesitant ones. She reached to Maria and clasped her other hand tightly.
Something wild passed from skin to skin. Something warm and reliable that didn't ask permission before it consumed them. Secrets fell through space and time.
Harbored fears of judgment and shame were thrown from the two girls as their separate universes melded back into a shared one.
The miles of time they had lost to selfishness and denial were now tripping them. The designs of an uncertain future became clear. The patterns rushed together in a distinct stream of binding trust.
With a wicked laugh, Maria stood and pulled her best friend to her feet. Thunder crashed outside; the already dim lights flickered.
Liz released one of Maria's hands as the reunited friends began to dance. Laughter and dancing; hair flying uncontrollably. The righting of wrongs and the forgiveness of neglect were rectified in their dance.
end
