Thank you everyone for participating in Three Days of Echo! For producing lovely content to read, look at, listen to and think about, and for everyone sharing and having fun in our Echo corner! I’ve loved seeing how you all used the themes/prompts and contributed different ideas.
The content has been archived at @echoappreciation if anyone wants to check it out or couldn’t keep track of what was posted. If you were unable to post your content yet, but still wanted to share it, please feel free to tag it with #echo3days2019. I track the tag and will archive your content as well.
Here’s to some more fun Echo events in the future <3
It’s been a year since Max was brought back to life, and Liz decided that it was time to take that summer road trip they were robbed of so many years ago. So after asking Maria to keep an eye on her father, Liz made her way out to Max’s house. She walked into the house making a beeline for their room while throwing him the keys to his jeep, leaving him only with “We leave in an hour”.
It was the perfect summer. They kissed on the beaches of Miami, they kissed at the Grand Canyon, and they kissed on the top of the Empire State Building, where she may or may not have talked Max into recreating the ending of Sleepless in Seattle.
And now? Now they were kissing on a beach in Malibu. This was the last stop before they made their way back to Roswell, no more nights in random motels, no more days filled of greasy fastfood and nothing but the road in front of them, it was time to go back to the real world.
Liz let out a peaceful sigh as Max tightened his arms around her while they watched the sunset. This, this is the feeling that was missing with Diego, the stillness and warmth, the feeling that everything is going to be okay as long as they have eachother. Liz turned around to look at Max “Are you Okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.” Max let out a nervous chuckle as he moved his arms and started fidgeting with his pockets. “Just a little nervous for what I’m about to do”. “Wha…” Liz stopped mid sentence as she watched Max get down on one knee.
“Oh Dios mío, esto no está pasando” Liz muttered under her breath. Max let out a breath and said “Yes, this is happening”. Max took her hand while taking out the black box, that he has been carrying around for the past 6 months, waiting for the right time. “Liz, this past year has proven what my heart has already known since I was 17, and that is how hopelessly in love I am with you, and I cannot wait to start this next adventure with you, making you as happy as you make me, So…” Max opens the box and Liz is stunned with how beautiful the ring is.
”Elizabeth Ortecho, te casarías conmigo?” Liz kneels down in front of him, resting her hand on his cheek while wiping away a tear with her thumb and the other on his heart, with tears in her eyes she lets out a simple “Sí”. The lights from the pier near by flicker as Max smiles wide, sliding the ring on her finger as he lifts her up and spins her around. When her feet touch back on the ground she pulls him into a kiss that sets her soul on fire.
“Max Ortecho has a nice ring to it dont you think?”. Max just laughs as they head back to the jeep ready to start the journey back home. As they pull onto the highway both are lost in the feeling of utter elation, ready for what the future has in store for them
Later, Liz texts Maria a picture of her hand and gets back a simple responce, “Michael owes me $50″.
A glimpse into Liz and Max's journey to parenthood.
--
Liz had been jolted out of a deep sleep — well, as deep of a sleep as one could possibly have at 35 weeks pregnant — and after tossing and turning for what felt like an hour but was probably only 10 minutes, she decided to go get a glass of water.
The kicks had always been frequent, but tonight they were as strong as ever. It felt like the baby was trying to kick their way out of her.
“I can’t wait to meet you, but you have to stay in there a little longer, okay? It’s still way too early!” Liz said, as if the baby understood her.
Though it felt a little weird at first, she and Max found themselves talking to the baby more often than they cared to admit.
“Max - I mean, your dad-“ she corrected herself. The pregnancy is almost over and she realizes that she’s never actually referred to Max as a dad before. Max Evans is going to be a dad. Thinking about him as a father, and how amazing he has been since the day she told him she was pregnant, fills her with all sorts of emotion.
How he had ordered every pregnancy and parenting book he could find, read them all cover to cover, and then went out to find some more.
How he had willingly come to every single doctor’s appointment; even bringing a notebook filled with all of their questions and concerns.
How he’s constantly telling her how beautiful she is, even when she’s throwing up or crying because she can no longer fit into her pants.
How he gave up alcohol for nine months out of solidarity — she thought he was absolutely nuts for that one. She didn’t ask him to, but he said he wouldn’t have any fun drinking by himself.
How he panics whenever she lifts something heavy, how he jumps at every noise she makes, how he can’t keep his hands off of her belly, how excited he gets when she turns a new week and the pregnancy app compares the size of the baby to a new piece of fruit, and just how excited he is to raise a child with her.
She could list a million reasons, and while some of them annoy her — she blames the pregnancy hormones— she loves him so much.
“Your dad,” she continued, “Your dad is going to be the best dad there ever was. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but when I screw everything up, don’t worry, okay? You’ll always have him. He’s perfect.” She says, beginning to tear up.
“You know, Liz, I think that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.” Max told her from their bedroom door, walking to stand beside her.
“How long have you been standing there?” She asks, wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Long enough,” Max said before kissing her and placing his hands on her belly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep. This little alien parasite will just not stop kicking me!” She said, moving his hands so he could feel too.
He chuckles at that. He’s said before that her referring to their child as a parasite is both hilarious and worrisome.
He leads them to the couch so she’ll be more comfortable.
“Seriously. You’re doing amazing. Only a few weeks left until we get to meet our daughter.” He says, wiping her tears away.
“Or our son,” Liz corrects him.
They didn’t know the sex. Mainly because the baby wasn’t cooperating during the anatomy scan, but also because Liz didn’t want to have any unnecessary ultrasounds or blood tests. She was nervous enough every time they had an appointment to check on the baby; she didn’t need to add to that.
“I really think it’s going to be a girl. A little girl with dark hair and brown eyes doing science experiments in our living room.”
Max teased.
Liz laughs. “I would love to see you with a little girl.” She just melts at the thought. “But I’d also love to see you with a little boy. A little boy who looks and acts just like you. The world needs more good men.” She says, leaning into him. She can already feel herself start to relax.
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Max says, placing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Can you read us a story?” Liz asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
“Us?” Max questions.
“Me and the baby. We can’t sleep, remember?” She teases.
Max laughs as he gets up in search of something to read them. “Just think of all the epic bedtime stories I’m going to read this kid.”
She does think about it, and it makes her happy. Listening to Max read bedtime stories while their little one kicks away, it makes her so happy she can’t stop smiling.
Their little family, snuggled up on the couch. There is nowhere else in the world she would rather be.
3 Days of Echo day 3 - post-season one/future. Once more betaed by @maxortecho!:
“There she is,” Liz murmurs as the car rounds the bend, and the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean comes into view. A glittering expanse of sapphire blue topped with foaming white, framed by the last fringes of the treeline the road emerges from. Down below, the beach cuts a pearly crescent against the shore.
Max hums back at her, but his gaze is on the road winding ahead, looking for the turn-off down to the sand. Despite this he’s got a faint, easy smile on his face, and she knows he’s soaking in his first sight of the ocean in as much as she is. She’s spent most of her life in the heart of the continent—in the heart of the desert itself, or in the mountains—so it always takes her breath away, but Max…Max has never seen it at all.
She’s never seen him this relaxed, his shoulders loose and his fingers drumming along to the radio on the steering wheel. He hasn’t frowned once since the plane landed a few hours ago and they collected their baggage. Suggesting they try to pick up the fractured pieces of the road trip they once intended to take is the best idea she’s had in a long time.
Roswell is far behind them, at least for now. And before them—before them is an open sky, blue meeting blue at the horizon.
The road dips down, back into the treeline, meandering to the foot of the cliffs. Things are so different than when she first saw the ocean all those years ago, and yet some things haven’t changed. Her heart is lighter, freed of many of its burdens, and fuller for the love she finally accepted. Her first real glimpse of the water had only reminded her that Rosa had never seen it, and never would—her first wade out into the waves had been to wash away her tears with more salt water, to drown them in their origin and pretend they never happened.
In those glorious few hours where she’d imagined traveling with Max, she’d become so nervous. Sharing a bed with him for weeks at a time had been a big deal, an unspoken promise between them, and it had left her flustered, eager, wanting. Now, she finds herself sinking into the same feeling, even if it’s ridiculous that she does. They share a bed at home—they share an entire house—but this is an opportunity. A chance to recapture who they were all those years ago. The idea of all this time alone with Max—no problems to fix, no lies between them—makes it easy for her to slip back into the mindset of the Liz who knew what love was but didn’t yet know sorrow or real loss.
Finally, they’ve reached the end of the road, and Max parks up in the shade of a grove of cedars. “I think we have to do the rest on foot,” he says, and she only smiles back, shoving her shades down and swinging herself out of the car.
He’s by her side seconds later, reaching for her hand to twine their fingers together, a picnic basket with food and beach essentials in his other hand. It earns him another smile, and she thinks if feels like this all day, she won’t be able to keep her happiness from leaking its way onto her skin and leaving a permanent imprint. It’s clear Max feels the same way, swinging their hands as they lope along the path through the trees, him modulating his long stride to match her own.
Then they’ve broken through, sunlight pouring down upon them and she tips her head back to bathe it, taking a deep breath of brine and ozone.
“Why does it just feel so much sunnier here than in Roswell?” she asks.
Rather than soaking up the sunshine like she is, Max is watching her, the softest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Because it feels like vacation.” The breeze is ruffling his hair, tossing around the long strand that always falls into his face, and she’s got the sudden urge to nuzzle into his neck.
She doesn’t. Instead, she kicks her shoes off, burying her toes in the sand. She’s only in a sundress, her bikini underneath and ready to be unleashed, but first they need to pick the perfect spot to leave their stuff before they go out into the water. They’ve got plenty of choice—the beach is empty, given it’s the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. She eyes the t-shirt Max is wearing above his shorts.
“Are you keeping all of that on?” she asks. “I’m looking forward to rubbing suncream into your shoulders.” They are, in fact, her favorite part of his anatomy. Mostly.
“I don’t need it,” he reminds her. “I won’t burn.”
“Please stop spoiling my fun.”
But he’s shrugging out of the t-shirt anyway, dropping it onto the sand beside her shoes. “Better?”
“Mmm. Much.” She steps closer, sliding an arm around his waist, and he’s always so warm beneath her palms. “And how is your first view of the ocean?”
He’s looking down at her, so earnest suddenly, that she props her shades on her head to meet his gaze. In this light, his eyes are almost amber and somewhere within them she thinks the way he feels about her has been caught, suspended for eternity. She doesn’t mind that at all.
“It’s beautiful,” he replies. “But not as beautiful as you.”
She doesn’t know how he manages it, but he always finds new ways to make her blush and make her heart stutter. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cheesy line—he means it, with his entire being, and God help her if she doesn’t love it. Love him.
She looks away, but he gathers her hands between his, bringing them to rest on his sternum, right above the heart he’s always baring to her. “Liz.”
There’s a change in tone with her name. A change in mood, and she’s meeting his gaze once more, suspended in a moment where she’s sure what’s coming and waiting for it to come. Flustered, eager, wanting.
“Liz,” he repeats, his voice soft enough to blend into the crashing of the waves. “Will you marry me?”
No ring. No bended knee. No witnesses.
No hesitation.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
It takes him a second to process it—he’s still lost in his own nervousness, waiting for a blow to fall, so she answers with her mouth in another way. She goes up on tip toe to kiss him, and then he’s in motion, kissing her back, pulling her close enough to meld into one being. Yes, she keeps whispering between kisses, and he can barely stop smiling. Neither can she.
When he’s convinced, he rests his forehead against hers. Her hands are still caught in his and their noses brush as they lapse into giddy laughter.
“You don’t have a ring,” she points out, wondering if this was a spur of the moment thing. She’d kind of expected a proposal to come one day—if Max could love her from afar for a decade, he obviously wanted to marry her if he could—but maybe he’d gone with his instincts.
“I thought you’d want to choose it with me.”
He’s right, she loves that idea, rewarding him with another kiss.
“And I know you don’t like the idea of public proposals,” he continues, and she doesn’t know who he’s been talking to—Maria, or Rosa, or even her papi, but he’s spoken to somebody who spilled about the disaster that was Diego’s proposal. She’d known that was coming, right from the time he booked the fancy restaurant, and all she’d wanted to do was get it over with and say yes like she thought it was right to do.
For Max, yes comes from the bottom of her heart. There’s no other possible answer.
“No, this was perfect,” she tells him. “Do you have celebratory champagne in that picnic basket?”
“Not champagne. Maybe a little tequila.”
And that has her laughing all over again. Max knows her, right down to the unconventional parts of her soul.
“But first,” he says. “Race you into the water?”
It’s not fair. She screams that he’s cheating as his long legs carry him across the sand, but in the end she’s the winner anyway: the sight of him, happy and bronzed and carefree in the water is the only prize she could ever want.
