The Sweetness of the Leaving (CC,M/L,Mature)Outline;7May06[W

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Tasyfa
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The Sweetness of the Leaving (CC,M/L,Mature)Outline;7May06[W

Post by Tasyfa »

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Title: The Sweetness of the Leaving
Author: Tasyfa
Author’s Email: tasyfa@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell are the property of Twentieth Century Fox Television and Regency Productions. All original characters and concepts are the property of the author. No profit has been made from the distribution of this work of fiction.
Category: Max/Liz POV
Rating: Mature
Summary: Picks up mid-It's Too Late & It's Too Bad. Liz is on her way to the airport, and Max has broken all of his relationships—all but one. But when he finds out what really happened to Alex, the consequences are events that no one expected or is prepared to deal with. How do they pick up the pieces and go on?
Author’s Note: The original inspiration for this was a discussion on establishing believable character motivation. And just so everyone knows right from the beginning, this is not a good choice for you if you’re: a) under 18; b) not into angst; or c) squicked by even a hint of UC-ness, despite the clear CC emotional connections. And, don’t panic over the first few paragraphs! Nothing is as it seems. I will be posting a chapter every 2 weeks, and I hope to make that like clockwork. :)
Hugs, Tas

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One
~~Max~~


“…I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I thought I knew but I don’t. I’ve lost everyone.” It sounds so melodramatic but I don’t care. It’s how I feel. So very alone.

I look over at Tess when she replies, “I’ll be here for eternity.” She takes my hand, slipping it out of my pocket. Her fingers are warm but the contact feels plastic, unreal. Her hair is soft and messy tonight; unbound and left free. I like it.

She steps close, raising her face, and I lean in and kiss her. Gently, and then I withdraw equally softly. This doesn’t feel right. “I’m ready to wake up now.” I whisper it into the darkness. I want the nightmare that my life has turned into to go away. I want the dream back.

Tess interprets my words differently—how could she not, after the discussions we’ve had? Her mouth fastens onto mine. Too-soft lips, plastic tongue. None of this is happening. None of this is real.

When I try to disengage, I find that I can’t. There are tendrils squirming into my mind, sapping my will and twisting it to hers. You know you want to, she gloats in my head. Her hand snakes between my legs, fondling greedily. I can feel how you want me.

I’m a lot of different things, and one of them is a guy. An under twenty guy, at that. Getting a physical reaction out of me doesn’t exactly rate up there with one of Houdini’s water escapes for the difficulty factor. “Tess, no.” I force the words out through her unending kiss.

She ignores my plea and begins tugging me towards the door to the observatory. It’s closed tonight and dizzily I wonder if she even knows that. Then I flash on her intentions and amazingly enough, it turns out that there is still room for rage.

I shove at her, frantic to stop this insanity. My lips feel bruised as her mouth rips away. Tess stumbles back, blue eyes wide, and falls heavily against the Jeep. There is a sickening crack.

“Oh, no. No, no…” The word becomes a croon of protest as I crouch beside her, checking for life signs. Nothing.

I’ve killed her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I finish setting the healing stones around Tess’s body. She looks eerie in the greenish light of the pod chamber, her head no longer tilted at an unnatural angle. For all my careful arrangements, she is nonetheless still dead. I knew even before I tried that just my own power would not be enough to save her, not tonight, so I brought her here.

I kneel by her hip and start to sink into the place in myself where my healing abilities live. Something feels wrong. Not in me; in Tess. Centered in my primary power like this, I can feel the evil emanating from her.

My hand covers my mouth, stifling the gasp of horror. What has she done to give off this kind of vibe? With terrible clarity, I know that there’s no way I can revive her now. But I need to know what happened. And so once again I stretch out my hand. Only this time, I place it on the disheveled curls covering her head, and do something I swore I’d never do. I rape the vestiges of her dying mind.

Like a river in flood, the answers fill me. Alex, bound to her will to translate the book, his brain breaking down from the recurring mindwarps. Nasedo, elaborating on a deal made with Khivar decades ago, for our deaths. Tess’s own distorted desire for me, and for a child with me—her goal for this night. The location of the translation, and its contents: a way home. All things she felt were worth killing for.

I agree.

I activate the stones, using them to boost my power, and flames sweep over her body. I move my hand to a safe distance but continue to fuel the fire until there is nothing but ashes. Then I retrieve the metal book, using it like a dust pan to scoop up what’s left of Tess Harding. Ashes and book go into the ruins of her pod. It’s as close as she’s going to get to home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Moonrise finds me on Liz’s balcony, writing. I know she’s not here. I tried her cell phone but I couldn’t get through. She should be in the sky somewhere, on her way out of the country. On a wild goose chase no less, since the murderer was in our midst the whole time. Liz’s parents will forgive her, knowing that she’s been out of her head with grief.

Liz forgiving me is not so easy. Or even in the realm of ‘possible.’

I feel like I’m rousing after a long dream—like I’m waking up, as I told Tess I wanted to do. For the first time I truly understand Liz’s need to get it all down on paper because I feel it, too. I know how big a difference there is between our needs, though.

All our needs. We’ve drifted so unbelievably far apart. This time last year, we were strong together. No outside force existed that could break us apart; we were that secure in each other. And we were right to feel that way, because nothing external did separate us. What sent us spinning off in opposite directions was internal—Liz.

When you come right down to it, there are two conflicting truths: I need Liz, and Liz needs me to let go. It’s that heartbreakingly simple. Without me in that equation, maybe Liz can find all those things she talked about. Safety. Normality. A reason to smile again.

Love that doesn’t destroy.

Explanations finished, I tuck the creased paper into the front pocket of my jeans, making sure it pokes out a little so someone can find this letter. Maybe someday Liz will understand, if she can’t forgive. I’m beyond caring now, almost. I took a life tonight, two times over. Accidental the first time, but there was nothing unintentional about the flames. What difference does it make? My own life ended one Friday in October. These last few months have been nothing but me hanging in limbo, waiting. Well, time’s up.

I concentrate on the plastic arms of the lounge chair, focusing until they glitter like steel in the moonlight. In one swift movement, I draw my wrists across the sharpened edges. It takes a minute for the pain to come, then it overwhelms me and I gasp. But it quickly feels distant and my only thought is to keep my hands up on my chest so that the letter stays clean.

As my consciousness wings away, I see Liz standing on the tarmac at the airport, cell phone to her ear. I can hear the conversation and it vaguely amuses me that she’s not going to Sweden after all. She’s not supposed to find me yet; it’s too soon. It doesn’t take long for even that much to fade away in the darkness.












.
Last edited by Tasyfa on Sun May 07, 2006 2:06 pm, edited 7 times in total.
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Tasyfa
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Post by Tasyfa »

No, I'm not abadoning Splitscreen, just as an FYI - I'll finish it if it kills me, lol. But in the meantime, since I'm a music freak, I have a soundtrack for this story. :) Since I began writing it a while ago and set it aside for a long time, that allowed a great deal of addition to the soundtrack and, well, it ended up being three CDs' worth of music, lol. The complete list is below.
hugs, Tas


Soundtrack for TSOTL

Disc 1

1. Everybody Hurts (REM)
2. Full Of Grace (Sarah McLachlan)
3. Cry (Faith Hill)
4. Downfall (Matchbox 20)
5. Without You (Mariah Carey)
6. I Am, I Said (Neil Diamond)
7. Opaline (Dishwalla)
8. Nothing Else Matters (Metallica)
9. Long Day (Matchbox 20)
10. Never Saw Blue Like That (Shawn Colvin)
11. Place In This World (Michael W. Smith)
12. Prayer Of St. Francis (Sarah McLachlan)
13. Forever December (Tabitha's Secret)
14. Bring Me To Life (Evanescence)
15. Not Myself (John Mayer)
16. How Do I Live (LeAnn Rimes)
17. Fade Away (Staind)
18. Hope Has A Place (Enya)


Disc 2

1. Calling All Angels (Jane Siberry)
2. All Out Of Love (Air Supply)
3. The Other Man (Sloan)
4. I Saw Red (Warrant)
5. Breakable (Fisher)
6. Man From Mars (Kristin Vigard)
7. When I'm Gone (Three Doors Down)
8. Leave (Matchbox 20)
9. Tomorrow (Avril Lavigne)
10. My Last Breath (Evanescence)
11. Hurt (Nine Inch Nails)
12. Mad World (Gary Jules)
13. What's This Life For (Creed)
14. Crying (Roy Orbison & k.d. lang)
15. Low Man's Lyric (Metallica)
16. Have A Little Faith (John Hyatt)
17. Bleed To Love Her (Fleetwood Mac)
18. What's Simple Is True (Jewel)


Disc 3

1. It's Only Love (Heather Nova)
2. Bed Of Lies (Matchbox 20)
3. Goodbye (Air Supply)
4. A Question Of Lust (Depeche Mode)
5. Cooling (Tori Amos)
6. My Immortal (Evanescence)
7. The Unforgiven II (Metallica)
8. Alone Again (Dokken)
9. All By Myself (Jamie O'Neal)
10. Calling All Angels (Train)
11. Dizzy (Tabitha's Secret)
12. What It Takes (Aerosmith)
13. Black & Blue (Counting Crows)
14. I'm Sorry Now (Jude)
15. Until I Wake Up (Dishwalla)
16. If You're Not The One (Daniel Bedingfield)
17. The Long Day Is Over (Norah Jones)
Last edited by Tasyfa on Tue Aug 02, 2005 10:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
~Henry Jenkins
User avatar
Tasyfa
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
Location: Canada

Post by Tasyfa »

LOL! Well, I doubt it's been the longest 2 weeks ever, but it was a particularly evil cliffhanger. :D In any case, I'm going to be busy tomorrow night so I'm posting today instead. Enjoy? ;)
hugs, Tas


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Two
~~Liz~~


Alex didn’t go to Sweden. The phrase keeps repeating in my mind but I still can’t make any sense of it. If he wasn’t on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, where the hell did he go?

I keep turning in mental circles all the way back from the airport. Last minute plane tickets tend to be full fare and fully refundable, thank God. The minute the bank opens tomorrow the ludicrous amount of cash I’m carrying is going back into my savings account. Good thing I have one of those money belts on under my jeans, or I’d be majorly stressed about being mugged or something.

The cabbie drops me in front of the Crashdown. The second his car is out of sight I steer clear of the door and head for the alley. I’m hoping that my parents won’t even have noticed my absence so the window is definitely my first choice.

My shoulder aches from the weight of the duffel bag by the time I swing onto my balcony. Gratefully I let it slide onto the floor. That’s when I notice Max lying in the lounge chair. I groan inwardly. Wonderful. Just what I need, another fight. How did he know I would be here?

“Max, I am too tired to get into this with you tonight. I didn’t go, all right? Are you happy now? I obeyed Your Highness’s command.”

He doesn’t say anything, or give any indication that he’s heard me. I move towards him as the moon emerges from the clouds and I see the spreading pool around him. “Max?” I kneel beside the chair, nearly cutting myself on the sharpened edge of the arm. With that clue, I see the gashes in his skin and the sting of tears is immediate. “Oh my God, Max!”

I fumble the cell phone out and punch in the speed dial for Michael’s. There’s no answer so I try Maria’s cell. I cradle the phone between my ear and my shoulder while I rip long strips from my plaid shirt and tie off Max’s wrists, keeping his hands elevated. His heart is still beating, albeit faintly, and I have to stop the bleeding. Even before Maria gets out her greeting I’m talking over top of her.

“Is Michael there?”

She must hear how freaked I am. “Yeah, why? Liz, what happened?”

“Put him on, Maria.”

“Liz—”

“Put him on!”

A brief silence then a masculine voice. Annoyed. “What’s up your ass, Parker?”

“Get over to my place, now. In a car. Bring Maria, too. And—and a tarp or a big piece of plastic or something so the car doesn’t get covered in blood. Come up the fire escape. Just you—have Maria keep the car running.” I know I’m barking orders at him, but I am scared like I have never been before and I need Michael to understand that this is the time for him to revert to type and take action.

“Liz, what the hell is going on?”

“Max tried to kill himself.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The healing stones are already laid out when we get to the pod chamber, a smear of blood on the cave floor in the center of the circle attesting to the former presence of a body. Who did Max try to heal? And did he succeed or fail?

I don’t like the idea of placing Max in the same spot so I choose a different one and tell Michael to put Max down. Maria picks up the stones and arranges them around Max’s supine form. She and I are working in effortless tandem for the first time since Alex died. Michael can’t read my mind the way my best friend does, but while he is his usual taciturn self, he’s also taking orders from me. Orders I can’t help but give. Not just because it’s Max, or because I’m the one with the most first aid training, but because I’m in crisis mode. If there’s anything on this earth that Michael understands, it’s the need for decisive action without a lot of quibbling. For the moment at least, there is no dissension in these ranks.

Kyle follows Isabel into the cave a little warily. I remember with a start of surprise that he hasn’t been here before. There are only the two of them and I frown. “Where’s Tess?”

“She took off a couple of hours ago. I tried her cell a bunch of times on the way here, but it’s going straight to voice mail.” Kyle shrugs helplessly.

“We’ll have to do it without her. Five of us were enough to bring Michael back.” Isabel’s tone is firm, her face set, but the strain around her eyes betrays her tension. Then you look a little closer and she isn’t just tense; she’s holding it together by force of will alone. She’s already seated beside Max, keeping one of his arms held up. Michael has the other. The cloth strips I used to apply pressure are soaked with blood but underneath them, the slashes are beginning to close already. When he’s not trying to keep it to a human pace, Max heals fast. My stomach churning, I sit by Max’s head. Kyle sits near one leg and Maria takes the other. She unscrews a bottle of water, passing it around. Everyone has a mouthful.

The four aliens didn’t bother sharing water when they healed Nasedo, but River Dog said it was an element that we all had in common when we banded together to heal Michael. Now, Max is rapidly running out of time and we need every advantage we can get. The cuts may be healing but he’s lost a dangerous amount of blood. Isabel begins the chant and the rest of us follow her rhythm.

I close my eyes as the stone cradled in my palms warms to gold. Up until now, I’ve been able to stay detached. Like I said, in crisis mode. Get the job done and worry about how it makes you feel later. Well, it’s later, and I know that if I shut off my feelings now I will not be able to reach Max. As angry as I’ve been and as much as Max and I have hurt each other, I can’t fathom not having him in my life. It’s a truth I didn’t want to face.

Healing light throws shadows across the inside of my eyelids as I focus on Max. Immediately I’m sucked into a dark swirl of emotion. I can’t breathe under the guilt crushing my chest; the pain that squeezes my heart dry. All around me is impenetrable blackness, eating away at my soul.

My lungs feel as though they’re about to burst when all of a sudden, the weight is gone. Dissolved in an instant, the faucet twisted closed. Panic rises to replace the agony and I pour my being into an urgent mental cry: Don’t leave me!

Dimly I hear the rasp of a cough and it’s like the heavy sound shoves my mind back into my own body. My head spins dizzily and my stomach turns over. Incongruously, it settles down when I open my eyes.

Another cough. Max moves a little, his eyelashes fluttering.

“Max?” Isabel strokes the back of his hand ceaselessly while maintaining her tight grip on his wrist. I can practically taste her fear and worry. Even Michael isn’t impassive, for a change. Mingled with his relief is the beginnings of fury. The rest of us haven’t reached that yet, but I know it’s coming. The anger tickles the edges of my awareness.

Hazel eyes slowly blink up at me, and for one unguarded moment the gold flecks there blaze in accusation. My throat catches even as Max’s gaze becomes shuttered, his expression unreadable.

I asked myself earlier how he’d known that I wasn’t leaving Roswell after all and the answer is, he hadn’t. He’d expected to be long gone by the time I returned from Sweden. Blood and ashes on my balcony. I reach gentle fingertips toward his face, needing more than visual reassurance that he’s alive.

Max flinches away from my touch.

It hurts. It hurts that we’ve splintered so far apart that his natural instinct is to turn from me. It hurts that I can’t in all honesty blame either of us for it. I did what I had to do, and I knew it might destroy him.

More than anything else, it hurts that he’s come to a point this low and we were all so bound in grief and internal strife that no one noticed, and we were almost too late. That we may still be too late.

“Let’s give him some room.” At Kyle’s suggestion, we all move back a couple of feet, me going to one side so I can see. Even Isabel backs off, although her body language fairly screams of her reluctance to lose physical contact with her brother.

Max bends his legs, planting his feet flat on the cave floor. He reaches for his knees and laboriously pulls himself into a sitting position, keeping his arms locked around his legs once he’s upright. I’ve seen him half-undressed. I’ve run my hands over his body, felt him move beneath my caresses. I know the serious muscle that lurks under his skin; the product of hours of work in preparation for a future unknown. Those muscles betray him now, too weakened to perform actions that are normally effortless.

Maria scoots forward, handing him the open bottle of water. Max nods his thanks and gulps it down, his throat bobbing as he swallows. I notice that he’s careful to touch only the plastic, avoiding Maria’s fingers. Avoiding all of us.

“We need to—we should check your arms, Max. Just to make sure,” Isabel says hesitantly.

He doesn’t even look at her as he tears off the bloodied fabric strips and incinerates them, opening his hand to release the resulting dust. He tugs his long sleeves up to his elbows and holds his arms out, palms facing up.

The greenish light in the pod chamber picks out two thin silvery lines across his wrists. Scars. His body has healed the damage but left a visible reminder.

“I’m fine.” Max’s voice sounds rusty, like he’s awoken from a long sleep. Oh, my dear, you are as far from fine as it’s possible to be, I think to myself. I’m sure the others do the same.

“What the hell were you thinking, Maxwell?” Michael bursts out.

“Thinking?” Max utters a mirthless laugh. “I don’t know, Michael. You’ve always wanted to be Fearless Leader. Maybe I thought it was time to see it happen. Let you be the goddamned king.”

Michael recoils. He may have thought he’d held himself in check long enough but he’s clearly unprepared for such raw, blunt speech from peacemaker Max. Are any of us ready?

“Where’s Tess, Max? Do you know?” Kyle asks quietly.

“I doubt she’s moved from her pod.” Max points his chin in that direction.

Looking puzzled, Kyle peers into the tattered membranes. “That metal book is in here, along with a hell of a lot of dust, but…oh, my God. That’s not dust, is it, Evans? Jesus, no wonder you didn’t think she’d moved!”

“What happened?” Isabel gasps.

“I take it none of you read the notebook I left for you,” Max remarks bleakly.

“Notebook? Where is it?” Maria jumps in.

“With Liz’s journal.”

“How were we supposed to know that?”

“I don’t even write much in my journal anymore.” It could have taken a long time for me to even see this notebook.

“Because I said that’s where it was in the letter.” His tone is that of someone not so patiently explaining something to a person he considers stupid, and I can see Michael bristling automatically.

Max glances around, his expression becoming even more remote at the confusion we’re all showing openly. Stretching out his leg, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a crumpled, folded piece of paper. One side of his mouth quirks up bitterly. “Then again, no one bothered to read it, so how would you know?”

His gaze swings to meet mine as I involuntarily reach out and just like that, whatever he’s written goes up in smoke. I pull my hand back. “There’s no need to pretend, Liz. I know you hate me.”

“Max, no. I’ve never hated you.” Been furious, sure, but that is not the same thing.

He stares at me broodingly. “Not Max Evans, maybe. But you hate Zan. You hate that your world got turned upside down by a guy who ended up being saddled with obligations from another life—obligations you feel don’t include you.”

I can’t say anything to that. There’s a kernel of truth in his observations. Somewhere in my mind, ‘destiny’ has become a four-letter word. It has been since I ran down the mountain, sprinting away from that damned hologram.

His eyes grow intense. “You hate it enough that you fucked someone you don’t love when you knew I’d see you doing it, for the sole purpose of driving me away. And then what you said at prom, when I was starting to think that maybe… You don’t have to worry, Liz. Message received, loud and clear.”

“Hey, now,” Kyle tries to protest. I widen my eyes at him warningly. This is not the time to set Max straight; he’s unbalanced enough as it is. I don’t know what the result of introducing Future Max into the conversation would be.

“Oh, Kyle, get real. We all know that you’ve never cared one way or the other about me, and your life would be a great deal simpler if I weren’t in it. Yours and everyone else’s.” He hugs his knees to his chest even tighter, his face lowering. “Just leave me alone, all of you.”

Stunned into silence until now, Isabel finds her voice. “Max, we can’t leave you alone.” Unspoken is the reason why: he needs to be watched, so he doesn’t try it again.

“That’s rich, coming from you. I had to behave like a complete asshole and pull rank on you to get you to stay in Roswell, you were so gung-ho about leaving us all behind.”

“That was out of grief.” Maria attempts to smooth things over.

“Am I supposed to be exempt from that? He might not have been my best friend or my significant other, but I grieve, too. I didn’t see anyone else with their hands covered in Alex Whitman’s blood, trying to revive a brain shattered by too many mindwarps.”

“What?” Isabel exclaims.

He slumps, chin resting on his crossed arms. “It’s all in the notebook at Liz’s. It was an accident but then when I tried to heal her, I found out she’d murdered Alex. I didn’t mean to kill her the first time.” Max’s voice is thick with the effort to hold back tears, and it’s beginning to fall into place for me.

Tess killed Alex.

And Max killed Tess.

Twice.
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
~Henry Jenkins
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Tasyfa
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Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
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Post by Tasyfa »

LOL, Scottie! It has, yeah. And here you go. ;)
hugs, Tas


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Three
~~Max~~


I watch Maria shake out the blanket and spread it on the ground by one wall, and then plunk herself down with a drawn-out sigh. She leans back against the uneven rock, closing her eyes briefly. When she opens them, she looks directly at me and pats the blanket beside her.

“Come sit down.”

Freed from the oppressive stares of the others, I comply, settling into a posture the mirror of Maria’s. I’m too exhausted to do anything else. The stone feels surprisingly cool behind me.

“Why me?”

I glance at her with a glimmer of amusement. That’s why. Because you’re just that straightforward. Because when you say what you think or how you feel, it’s the absolute truth. You might change your mind in the next ten minutes, but when the words exit your mouth they are honest.

Aloud, Maria gets a somewhat abridged version of why she and I are currently holed up alone together in the pod chamber. The group insisted that someone had to stay with me and it turned into a tug of war.

Isabel thought it should be her, because she’s family. Michael took offense to that, despite the fact that he’s been on the other side of that particular debate before. Kyle made some acidic remarks about family closeness, for which Maria hit him. Liz tried to mediate the escalating ugliness.

No one bothered asking my opinion.

It stopped when I said that it was either Maria or no one. My only contribution to a ridiculous conversation. I think they would eventually have settled on Michael, so he could physically restrain me if necessary, but they don’t understand. There’s no danger. I had my one chance at oblivion; Liz didn’t let me take it. Even in death, I couldn’t escape her.

“You’re Liz’s best friend and Michael’s girlfriend.”

“So?”

“You’re connected to me only through the people that you love.” I’m not your brother, your ex-boyfriend or your king.

“I thought we were friends.” She sounds more curious than hurt.

“We were, once. You got me through the summer, Maria. Then Liz came back and still didn’t want anything to do with me. You couldn’t juggle forever and you made a choice. The right one, incidentally.”

“I guess.” She’s quiet for a while. When next she speaks, a deep sorrow permeates her voice. “I miss Alex.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” I remember when Alex and Kyle emerged from the Gandarium cave covered in liquid crystal slime. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen, save one: when Liz opened her eyes to look at me while lying on the Crashdown floor. “I’m sorry, Maria.”

“Hmm?” She doesn’t know why I’m apologizing.

I can only manage a whisper. “For Alex. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. Even if it hadn’t been too long after the accident, I was trying to heal the wrong thing anyway. I didn’t know his brain failed from too many mindwarps. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No, it’s Tess’s fault. She’s the one who killed him, Max.”

I shake my head. “Liz was right. I didn’t want to consider the possibility that he’d been killed by an alien because it does mean that I’m responsible. Even more so since it was Tess. She was my responsibility, Maria. That’s why I took…care of it. Of her. But it doesn’t make it okay. It doesn’t bring Alex back.”

“No, it doesn’t bring him back.” A tiny smile curves her lips. “I’ll admit to getting a certain amount of satisfaction out of the pile of ashes over there, though.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I draw my legs in, hugging my knees to my chest.

Maria heaves a sigh. “Do you remember when I smacked you with that book, when you wouldn’t shut up about JFK?”

“Sure.”

“I currently have the urge to take a two-by-four to your head and make you see reason. Don’t worry, I won’t,” she assures me. “I doubt there’s something as ordinary as a piece of wood in this freaky place.”

The bald assertion startles a weak laugh out of me. “Alien artifacts only. You’re the only human in here.” I can’t even finish a lame joke without getting maudlin.

She looks over sharply. “Max, did you not see me fall apart when Alex died?”

“Of course I did.” The raw grief in her voice when she sang ‘Amazing Grace’ burned a path through me.

“Then how did you imagine I would feel when you died?”

“Sad, for a little while. It’d pass.” Awkwardly, I raise and lower my shoulders. I’m no childhood friend.

Maria’s arms go up and her head tilts back in pure exasperation. It’s a pose I’ve seen many times. “Argh! You just surpassed Michael in the Most Frustrating Man Alive contest, and I didn’t think that was possible. Hello, do you truly not understand that we all love you?”

“Sure,” I agree dully. Whatever. Because I’m just that lovable.

She groans. “What do I have to say to you to get it through your head?”

Her tone almost makes me smile. Almost. When was the last time I smiled? Right, when Liz asked me to prom. “Actions speak louder than words, Maria.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I close my eyes. There’s so much within me that cries out, ‘Liz,’ but I shy away from even thinking her name. There is just…too much. Instead, I focus on my sister. “Since the first night we came out of the pods, Isabel has been the one thing in my life that I could count on. Unequivocally. I’m not saying she always agreed with me or anything, but it didn’t interfere with our relationship. It never changed who we were to each other until Isabel found out about Vilandra and started to withdraw from me. Even last summer, when we were fighting, she was still my sister.” I tuck my chin into the space between my kneecaps. “She didn’t stop being my sister but there’s a gulf where one didn’t exist before.”

“What about Michael?” Soft-voiced question.

“He didn’t come with us that night and we lost him for three years. By the time we met up again, he’d changed. Been marked by his experiences,” I spit out. I will never forget how I felt when I saw his black eye last year. For the first time, I knew what it was to want to kill.

Now I know what the act itself feels like.

I can’t go there, either, any more than I can focus on Liz. Not now. I can feel the demons sniffing around the perimeter of my mind and if I start thinking about what I did, I may as well throw the gates wide open. I cannot allow myself to feel.

“He doesn’t really want to be the leader, you know. He just wants you to listen to him,” Maria murmurs.

“Yeah, because being in charge would mean being the responsible one, instead of haring off and doing whatever the hell he wants, knowing that I’ll pick up the pieces afterwards.”

“That’s not fair, Max.”

“You’ve only known him for two years, Maria. He’s been impulsive as long as I can remember, and I’ve been the clean-up crew all along.” I don’t add that I occasionally envy Michael that freedom. Healing Liz was the only time I simply acted, without considering the consequences beforehand.

At least, it was until tonight.

Maria’s thoughtful nod surprises me out of that reflection. “There’s an element of truth in that. I think Michael feels free to do those things because he knows he can count on you to have his back. Maybe he is expecting too much, or taking too much for granted, but the underlying reason isn’t a bad one. He trusts you, Max. He’s been fumbling along, trying to find a way to trust himself as much as he’s always trusted you.”

I must look shocked because she laughs a little. “I have oodles of experience in ferreting out Michael’s emotions, Max. It’s practically my main hobby in life.”

“He’s grown a lot in the last few months.” I’m proud of him, actually. I should have told him that.

“Yeah, he has,” she agrees softly.

“Because of you.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Maria twists a lock of her hair.

Apparently her heightened perception doesn’t extend to Michael’s feelings towards her. “Yes, Maria. He told me recently that he thinks he’s been wrong all this time to focus everything on what might be out there—on Antar. That we should be living our lives here, as humans. With humans. Because he wants to be with you.”

“Oh,” she breathes slightly giddily. “He really said that?”

“Yeah.” The last sentence might be my personal inference, but I, too, have some experience in deciphering Michael.

Her bright smile calls a feeble response from my own face. She beams at me for a minute before her expression softens. “Liz—”

“Don’t.”

“But, Max—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Maria. The subject of Liz is closed.” I know I’m speaking harshly but I can’t listen to her explain what she thinks Liz is feeling, or thinking, or anything Liz-related. Not right now.

“Okay.” She sighs deeply and reaches to rub my arm.

“Don’t touch me.” I recoil from her outstretched hand. I can’t bear any human contact, either.

Maria’s eyes fill with tears and understanding. I stay perfectly still when she inches closer, willing her to go away but unable to articulate that wish. Then she says my name. “Oh, Max.”

Compassion saturates her voice. Markedly absent is the pity I expected—indeed, that I earned, for being pathetic enough to be helpless to cope any longer. It’s ironic that my own life is the only one I’ve failed to totally destroy.

I hold myself rigid while Maria slips an arm around me and pulls me close. Her shoulder is warm, and she smells citrusy, like fresh lime. So softly I can’t even make out the words, she begins to croon. The sound is somewhere between speech and song and has the soothing quality of a lullaby. Something cracks within my chest and I know this is what I was afraid of: that someone’s gentle touch might reach inside me and release the storm. Some corner of my mind also knows that it’s what I’d hoped for.

It starts with a faint sniffle and soon I’m clinging to her, sobbing too hard to think or even breathe. There’s a vague image of a toy house in my mind; possibly the last time I cried like this. Different woman but it feels the same. Except that when I was small, tears were a simple release. A way of expressing my loneliness. It didn’t reach deeper. It never did. Not until the end of the longest day of my life, when I held Liz tight and finally told her what was in my heart. Words I’d longed to say for years spilled from my lips, and the look on her face…the sound of her voice when she said she loved me. I had not thought I would ever hear such sweet music.

And then the sights and sounds of goodbye.

I clutch Maria harder and she rubs my back calmly, unfazed. She’s no stranger to grief, as she pointedly reminded me, and I’m grateful for her unquestioning acceptance. Her voice floats over us both and she rocks me back and forth like the child I never got to be.








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Tasyfa
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Post by Tasyfa »

Sorry, everyone! I was totally involved in something else last night and didn't post. Apologies, and here we go. :)
hugs, Tas


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 4
~~Liz~~


We sit numbly in silence on my sparkling clean balcony, trying to process the information that Michael has read aloud from the small notebook Max left with my journal. Neither Isabel nor I felt capable of voicing what we knew would be in there, and it didn’t seem right for Kyle to be the voice of Max’s inner self. Not with the history between them.

In the end, while none of us said anything about it on the drive back, Michael took the notebook from me as soon as I retrieved it. And even his stoic tone wavered in places.

My stomach turns over every time my thoughts drift towards Tess’s intentions, and I curse the stubborn streak in my head that won’t let me escape the false image of Max and Tess locked in a naked embrace. But as I fight it down yet again, it occurs to me that this is what Max has lived with for months now. I know damn well he’s had flashes of what he thinks he saw between Kyle and me that night, and that’s not even counting plain old imagination and memory.

Just what I needed: the marked increase of guilt in an already overwhelming mix of emotions.

“So what now?” Isabel asks tiredly. We’re all so drained from this—all of us. No one’s really had time to figure out what any of it actually means.

Michael sighs, closing the notebook and tapping it against his thigh. With rare candor he admits, “I don’t know.”

She pushes back her hair to rub her temples. I guess even aliens get tension headaches. “I still don’t understand. How could Max think that this would make anything better? Leaving us a note, for God’s sake.”

“They do call suicide the ultimate selfish act, Iz.”

“But it just doesn’t make sense,” she protests. Kyle and I exchange a look and stay out of the sibling squabble. “Max reasons everything to death before doing anything.” Her cheeks grow pink at the unintended irony of her words.

“Yeah, he was thinking real hard the day he saved Liz.” Michael’s voice crackles with contempt. I’m not sure if it’s for Isabel’s blush or for my continued existence. Don’t think I want to know, either.

“That’s different. It was a life and death situation and he had to make an instant decision,” she dismisses his comment with a wave of her hand.

“And that’s different from killing Tess because…” he mocks her.

Isabel heaves a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Then why Maria? First he climbs up here to die, he leaves the stupid notebook with Liz, and then he wants Maria. Why?”

A thread of plaintiveness creeps into her last question and I realize that this is what she really wants to know: why didn’t Max go to her? Why didn’t he trust his sister with any of these things? Michael’s spread hands and defeated posture ask the same questions.

“Oh, for crying out loud. You people are so blind! Listen to yourselves! You can’t even stop asking the guy shit when he’s not here. He asked for Maria so he didn’t have to put up with any of your crap,” Kyle spits in disgust.

“I don’t believe I was speaking to you.” Isabel glares at him haughtily.

He shakes his head, looking briefly heavenward. “Listen up, Princess. I am part of this. I half expect to be finding this same kind of note from my dad thanks to you and El Presidente, so don’t give me that high and mighty act. What you guys do affects other people, and I’m one of them. You don’t have to like it—I sure as hell don’t—but deal with it, damn it.” Kyle leans back. “And I stand by what I said. You’re family to Max, and that means obligations. Obligations he’s not equipped to handle tonight, at the very least.”

I place my hand on his arm and squeeze in sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. Your dad’s still that depressed, huh?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, not looking at me.

“I guess he didn’t ask for you because you fucked his girlfriend, is that it?” Michael shoots back. Kyle stiffens and I remove my hand, turning to face Michael. This is mine to answer.

“What Max thinks he saw and what actually happened are two different things. We didn’t sleep together.”

“Then why were you in bed together?” Isabel questions.

“Yeah, why were we?” Kyle chimes in. Michael merely stares at me, his expression formidable.

I expel a breath—almost a sigh of relief. It can’t matter anymore, can it? With Tess dead, and a betrayer and murderer besides, it can’t matter. It can’t!

“Someone I trusted absolutely told me that Max would run Tess out of town if he didn’t stop focusing so completely on me, and that her absence would make all of us extremely vulnerable to attack. Too vulnerable. I tried other ways to get him to leave me alone, but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I set him up to think that Kyle and I had slept together. It was the only thing I could think of.”

It takes tremendous effort to explain even that much, breaking through my self-imposed silence. Until the words exited my mouth, I didn’t know that I was going to tell them the truth—or that I would keep so much to myself. But the details belong to Max, and no one else.

“Someone,” Isabel echoes, narrowing her eyes. My mouth tightens and she throws up her hands. “Fine, okay. Clearly it worked since Max certainly seems to believe you two had sex.”

“Yeah.” I nod slightly, aching at the memory of his face at the window that night. And again not an hour ago: Message received, loud and clear. I want everyone to go home, this instant, so I can cry alone. Grieve for almost losing him tonight; for losing him months ago, when my heart went with him on a falling star.

The black cloud over me must be raining on the others, too, because the next thing I know, Isabel has disintegrated into tears, her face shining with the wetness and then I break and we land in a heap together on the stone floor of my balcony. Both of us sobbing, holding each other in an attempt to weather the flood, while the other two look on with bent heads and eyes full of unshed pain.

When I can speak again, I wipe my face as best I can and wonder aloud, “The one thing I don’t understand is why he left the letter in his pocket. I mean it would have dissolved, too.”

“Dissolved? What are you talking about?” Michael inquires.

“Well, Nasedo crumbled into dust when he died.”

Isabel sniffles. “Oh, Liz, that’s because he didn’t have a human skeleton. Our bodies won’t do that. We’ll just…die, like everybody else.” Her chin trembles but she’s stopped crying.

I grimace. “So if I’d actually gone to Sweden, his body would have been…oh that’s gross.”

“Don’t think about it,” Kyle advises with a matching expression of distaste.

“Good call.”

Everyone’s quiet for a few minutes, absorbing. It’s been such a thoroughly surreal night. On some level, it’s difficult for me to accept that Max did, in fact, attempt suicide, and only the fact that I found some of the answers I’d been looking for to solve the mystery of Alex’s death allowed me to arrive in time to save him. Answers he did his best to prevent me from seeking. Answers I have found partly because of Max’s subsequent actions. It’s all so damned tangled.

Isabel straightens, waving a hand over herself to repair the tearstains. She’s obviously decided that it’s time to stop indulging over a near-tragedy and make plans. The thought almost makes me smile; maybe we do have something in common after all.

Michael beats her to it. “We’re going to have to watch Max like fucking hawks now. God only knows what else he might try to do to himself.”

I watch him pace back and forth, seeing the anger in the lines of his body. Somehow I know it’s more in worry than true rage. “I don’t think he’ll try anything else.”

“What? Why?” Isabel cries, hope shading her voice.

“I just don’t.” I shrug, unable to explain. There was something in his eyes that told me he wouldn’t make a second attempt, but I can’t say that. I don’t even know for sure that I can trust whatever I saw, but I find myself believing anyway. The alternative is unthinkable.

“If it’s all the same to you, Liz, I need something a little more concrete than that,” Michael responds.

What can I do but nod? I need that, too. The question is, will Max let any of us close enough to see anything at all?

Kyle sighs. “We also need to come up with some kind of explanation for Tess’s disappearance. God, my dad is going to implode.”

“Because she’s dead?” Isabel asks.

“Yeah, but more because we’ve been harboring a goddamned murderer,” he grinds out. He’s getting angry now, too. Isabel can’t be far behind. And I can’t think of many more volatile situations than four seriously pissed off people, half with alien powers, in one confined space.

“Why don’t we meet up tomorrow to discuss it? I’m exhausted, and honestly, I think we could all use a break. Max is safe for the night; Maria won’t let anything happen.” I look around hopefully, seeing nods of agreement.

Finally, finally I’m alone. I know I need sleep but I’m not sure I can achieve even that level of relaxation tonight. This space, this little concrete world that I built with my hands and my dreams, it isn’t a sanctuary anymore. The Christmas lights shine on but they don’t make me smile now. I feel violated. And then guilty for feeling that way.

Earlier today, Max gave me the choice of continuing to investigate Alex’s death in Sweden or renouncing his friendship, and I chose the latter. He’s not my king, and I wouldn’t have obeyed even if he were. Monarchs are not proof against mistakes—any history book can teach you that. And certainly not against arrogance, as he so blatantly demonstrated.

But then, tonight, Max crawled into my private space intending to die. And I need to know why. Everything Kyle said about Max needing Maria made sense, but it keeps circling back to who he needed before Maria, and why that was me. Or more specifically, a place that expresses my true self as surely as the pod chamber does his.

I settle back into the shorter lounge chair, staring alternately at the spot where I found him and the stars where he came from, trying desperately to understand the connection between the two.











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Tasyfa
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Post by Tasyfa »

Scottie wrote:Today? Tomorrow? :D
Aw, I love you, Scottie! lol. Tomorrow, apparently (well today, now). I was on just long enough to check for messages and fires yesterday. Getting hints of that cold that's going around so I went to bed right early. :roll: Anyway, here we go. :)
hugs, Tas


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 5
~~Max~~


Short. Short. Long, but plaid. Long, but too dressy. Jesus, I have to own a long-sleeved shirt that isn’t either made of flannel, or screaming for a suit and tie. Even if it is May in the damn desert, which means that I should be gravitating towards T-shirts. But unless I want to start wearing 80s-style sweatbands on my wrists, I do need long sleeves. Long enough to cover the waiting questions that I haven’t been able to erase.

A soft rap sounds at the door. “Max?”

“Yeah, Mom, come in.” I cross my arms over my chest, making sure my hands are tucked close under my elbows.

My mother pokes her head in my room, smiling when she sees where I’m standing. “I kept your allowance from the beginning of the school year, if you’d like to use it now.”

“Pardon me?”

“Your clothing allowance.” She points to my open closet, her smile broadening. “You weren’t interested last September so I set it aside. Seems like you might want it now.”

“Right, that allowance. Yeah, that would be good, actually.” It never occurred to me that she might do that. I give her a genuine, if small, smile when she pats my shoulder.

“I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Now, Maria’s in the kitchen. Should I send her in?”

I blink in surprise. “Maria’s here? Uh, yeah she can come in,” I answer distractedly, scanning my floor to make sure there’s no dirty underwear or anything lying around.

“You’re not…are you seeing Maria now?”

“What?” My attention returns to Mom instantly. “Good Lord, no. She and Michael are still together, at least last time I checked. Which was yesterday, but it’s a daily question.”

She laughs at that and squeezes my shoulder again. “All right, I’ll tell her you’re in here.” On her way out, she pauses and levels this look at me, the one that says I should agree with her. “Maybe you could ask your sister to go shopping with you on the weekend.”

I repress a grimace, keeping my lips curved upwards. “Sure, Mom.”

The fake smile is still in place when Maria enters and her own smile falters momentarily, then firms. I look on in astonishment as she plunks down several bags on my desk, consuming all of the available space.

“Um, Maria? What’s all that stuff?”

She motions at me to close the door as she starts emptying the bags, holding up each item as she talks, like she’s doing an infomercial.

“Protein powder, for making milkshakes mainly. Maybe add it to other things, too, especially on days when you don’t eat much meat, so you keep your protein intake high.”

“Oooookay.” I simply nod and continue to watch her, wide-eyed.

“This is St. John’s Wort. It’s very good quality and I got you the easy to swallow capsules. You take one with every meal, three times a day.”

“That’s an herb, isn’t it?” It’s a nasty shade of green inside the translucent plastic capsules.

“Yes.” She beams at me like I’ve answered the million dollar game show question. Next she removes the bubble wrap from a desk lamp and sticks it on the other side of my computer.

“This is an Ott-Lite. I borrowed it, so we’ll have to buy you one soon if it does anything, or just forget about it.” Maria frowns out the window. “Lack of sunlight isn’t really a big issue in New Mexico, but a little extra natural light never hurt anybody.”

“For the vitamin D?” I hazard a guess. I’m not entirely sure what she’s up to yet, but I know enough to realize that she’s gotten a bee in her bonnet about some kind of natural health regimen for me.

She nods briskly. “Partly. And just because sunlight deprivation is bad for you.”

I almost laugh at the absurdity of that statement. We live in Roswell, not Seattle. Like she already said, there really isn’t much of a sunshine problem in the middle of the desert.

Maria raises an eyebrow as if daring me to comment and I gesture at her to go on. “This is an oil warmer. You put a tealight candle in the bottom, and pour some scented oil in the bowl in the top. As the oil warms, the scent diffuses into the air.” She pulls out a massive bag containing a whole whack of these tiny tin cups, all with candles in them. Clearly these are ‘tealights.’ Extracting one from the pile, she demonstrates where it goes in the warmer thingie.

“I brought you three different oils. Vanilla is soothing and kind of all purpose. Neroli is uplifting—it’s a kind of tangerine, so it smells citrusy but not as strong as straight orange would. And the pumpkin spice is, well, both.” Her eyes flit away for a second. “You should have the scent going all the time, vanilla at night and neroli in the morning. Um, we’ll talk about the other one later.”

“My room is going to smell like a bakery twenty-four/seven, Maria.” At least this item makes some sense to me: a scent to wake up to, and a scent to sleep to. I’m way curious about the pumpkin spice oil, though.

“That’s not so bad, is it?” she laughs.

I shake my head. “I’m just saying.”

Maria grins then opens the last bag. “I also collected some CDs that I want you to listen to.” She unearths a stack of jewel cases plus a couple of small items that I can’t really see, and she doesn’t mention. She moves over to my CD rack and starts reading titles under her breath, yanking some out as she goes.

I notice that most of the ‘C’ section is missing once she’s done. This is beginning to piss me off. “Maria, leave my CDs alone.”

Exasperated, she glances at me and then stuffs them into one of the now-empty bags. “No. I am confiscating these. And if you have any more Counting Crows lying around, you are not allowed to play it.”

“Don’t tell me what to do! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

She gets in my face. “I am your friend, that’s who!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to barge in here and try to take over my life, Maria!” Anger courses through me in sudden, sharp waves.

“Oh, no?” Maria grabs my arms and twists so that my palms face up, the light picking out the white scars there. “You gave up that right last week, buddy.”

I snatch my hands back. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right, because you’re doing so well on your own. How’s the psychiatrist working out for you, Max? You’ve been seeing him for what, almost a year now?”

“You know I can’t talk to him about anything real!” I want to throw things at her. Like, bottles of scented oil and disgusting-looking herbal supplements.

“That’s right, you can’t. And you can’t risk taking any kinds of drugs, either. So that’s why I did some research and came up with some alternative methods of dealing with depression,” she states firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not depressed,” I deny quickly.

“Yeah, because happy people slit their wrists.” Abruptly she looks drained, and I feel like a complete ass because she’s been doing all of this in an effort to help me.

And maybe…I look over at the closet, thinking about my quest for long-sleeved shirts. Yeah, maybe I do need that help.

I sit down on my bed and reach over to the clock radio, popping the CD from the player and holding it out. “Here, this is the Crows, too.”

She takes it, placing it on the desk, and sits beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I know this is hard, Max. I don’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through, or what it’s like to be you. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I want you to let me be here.”

I tuck her head under my cheek, taking comfort in the embrace. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m supposed to be the strong one, Maria. All my life, it’s been me in charge of the others and it only got worse when we discovered that I was officially in charge. Everyone expects me to automatically know everything, and I don’t. Christ, I don’t even know what I’ll eat for breakfast tomorrow.”

A small giggle escapes her. “A nice, protein-rich fruity milkshake and fortified cereal with skim milk. No coffee; caffeine is bad for you.”

“Aw, shit, no coffee?” I have to laugh regardless. “Okay. I’ll try it, Maria. All of it.”

“You will?” She wiggles around to look at me, her eyes shining.

“Yes,” I promise.

“Fantastic. Um,” she glances away, her cheeks reddening. “There’s one other part, and it kind of goes with the pumpkin spice oil.”

“I’m listening.” A little apprehensively, with the way Maria is blushing. Maria doesn’t blush.

“Well, one of the most effective ways to combat depression is by keeping the brain flooded with endorphins. You know, that ‘natural high’ substance.”

“Right.” I know that, actually; it’s one of the things I learned when I developed a workout routine. “So, I should exercise more?”

“Yes, but also,” she takes a deep breath and looks straight at me. “You should masturbate to orgasm at least once a day.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not repeating it.”

My face must be even redder than hers, from how hot it feels. “What if I’m not in the mood?”

Maria rolls her eyes. “You’re eighteen, and I’m sure you wake up with a woody like every other guy. Just start your day by playing with yourself.”

“Maria!” Spontaneous combustion from acute embarrassment seems scientifically viable at the moment.

“Max, I’m serious. The spice oil will help you get in the mood, and there’s some, uh, lubricant over with the CDs. It’s supposed to make it feel better,” she mumbles.

“The spice oil?”

“Yeah, the Chicago Institute of Taste & Smell did this study, and the scent of pumpkin pie increases the blood flow to a man’s penis by about forty percent. Lavender does too, but I thought it smelled kind of girly for you. Just sniff the bottle and go to town.”

“Jesus, Maria,” I mutter weakly.

“Well, think about it! It’s not called the Big O for nothing,” she defends.

I close my eyes for a second. I guess it’s not that unreasonable; it’s not like I never do it, although I haven’t wanted to for a long time. Weeks; months, maybe. Thinking back, I can’t actually remember the last time. And that’s what finally clues me in that she could be right. I’ve learned not to flinch from Maria’s hugs since the night I collapsed in her arms in the pod chamber, but mostly I’m deeply uncomfortable about anyone touching me, and that includes myself.

I sigh, conceding defeat. I already promised, and I’ve broken too many to not hold on to this one as hard as I can. “Okay.”

“Good,” Maria smiles. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to check or anything. Because, ick!”

I snort a feeble laugh. “Yeah.”

She becomes serious. “Please just try, Max. Some of this stuff may do nothing, but some of it might really work, and I want to help.”

“I’ll do my best, Maria.”

“Thanks, girlfriend.” She checks her watch. “Damn it, I have to go, I have to work. Um, you can tell your mom that you’re trying to bulk up or whatever, the protein shakes are used by bodybuilders and other athletes. You’ve already got more muscles than you know what to do with so I’m sure she’ll buy that.”

“Gee, thanks,” I smile a little at her teasing.

“Oh, you know it looks fabulous on you! I’m off; be good,” she winks. As she stands up she gives me a quick hug, then grabs the bagful of CDs that she’s confiscating and whirls out the door.

After a long moment in the echoing silence that’s left behind her energetic presence, I go through the things she’s brought me, putting most of it away. I have homework to do so I power up the computer, turn on the Ott-Lite lamp, and light the oil warmer after filling it with vanilla.

The music she chose is unrelentingly cheerful and it makes me wince as I sit to research my paper, but after a few minutes it’s merely background noise and I notice that I’m inhaling deeply as the room begins to smell like baking cookies.

Hope is fragile indeed, but I feel the barest hint of it, despite everything.






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Tasyfa
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Outline!

Post by Tasyfa »

Hi everyone,

First, much appreciation to Kath for resurrecting the thread so I could post on it. *smooches*

No, I'm not dead, lol. As I mentioned before, I had had a detailed outline for this story, one that labelled all the POV switches and the basic action that happened in each chapter, but it was written in a notebook that I used to leave in my car and I can't find it. This is somewhat of a piss-off as this was not the only thing I had written in there, but there's not much I can do about it if it's gone! So I've reconstructed as best as I can from memory, and I've also included a tiny excerpt from almost the very end of the fic because that was written in my diary in some three a.m. inspiration.

I apologize for the severe delay in getting this up; I'd really wanted to put the whole outline. But this at least sketches out the gist of the story, and the excerpt actually explains quite a bit about Max's general motivations.

About Splitscreen: Yes, I do still plan to finish writing the conclusion, if I can ever get it out of my bloody head. My muse is firmly entrenched elsewhere these days as far as fanfiction goes, and I'm working on original pieces too, but I will keep trying until SS is done. I'm quite determined about it, even if it doesn't appear so.

Many, many thanks and much love for all the support. *smooches to everyone*
hugs, Tas

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

-Liz and Michael talk in the Crashdown about how neither of them gets to see much of Max or Maria anymore because they're always together; Liz dispels Michael's thoughts that it might have become something romantic, knowing that they wouldn't do that (she is right)
-Max and Isabel go shirt shopping, and whilst out, Isabel tells Max about Liz's knowledge of the future and that she had set him up to believe she'd slept with Kyle
-Max takes this to heart and begins to live his life more like the leader he's supposed to be, while steering clear of any hint of more than friendship with Liz
-Ava shows up; convo between her and Max about whether she's going to step into Tess's life and take it over – he asks if that includes her supposed relationship with him, and she gives a coy "maybe"
-Max and Ava spend a lot of time together, and Max tries to convince Michael and Isabel to give it a go
-He does talk them into trying making out, which Liz witnesses
-She confronts Isabel about it, who confesses and says that the experience sounded the death knell for that particular idea – kissing Michael is just plain gross and never happening again
-Max and Ava grow closer and in a moment of intimacy (not quite *that* intimate, untwist your panties! ;-) ), she calls him Zan and they realize they're both fooling themselves – her for a memory and him for a duty that he doesn't want and that she doesn't need him to perform
-Last chapter: Liz finds Max on her balcony and almost has a heart attack before she realizes he's just sitting there, staring at the stars. She sits with him and they begin to talk. He quotes something and she rejects the concept.
-(Excerpt from near the end of the last chapter. In Liz's POV.)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What about Orson Scott Card?" he offers.

I frown, puzzled. "He's a writer, isn't he? Science fiction?"

Max nods. He stares at some distant point over my shoulder and quotes, "'I have lived too long with pain to know who I am without it.'"

The tears just come. My breath hitches in a suppressed sob. "Max."

A sense of the here-and-now returns to his eyes and he grimaces, beginning to rise. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here."

I hold out my hand to stop him. "No, stay." He settles back warily and I have to ask, finally, "Why did you come here?"

His gaze sweeps the small outdoor patio, taking it all in, and he shrugs awkwardly.

"Because this is where my life began. Where I dared to dream – dared to love, to hope and fly – and it's where I died in slow degrees of agony.

"This concrete corner of hell and paradise encompasses the entirety of my life, Liz. I didn't really know where else to go."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

-They talk some more and at length, they end up sitting together, her head cradled on his shoulder, both staring at the stars and feeling hopeful at last.
"Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk."
~Henry Jenkins
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