Splitscreen (AU,M/L,ADULT) AN,pg11 - 9Jan06 {WIP}

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Tasyfa
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Splitscreen (AU,M/L,ADULT) AN,pg11 - 9Jan06 {WIP}

Post by Tasyfa »

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Title: Splitscreen
Author: Tasyfa
Author's E-mail: 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: AU; Max POV
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Season 1, Season 2, and Busted through Four Aliens and a Baby happened. After Tess died and Max gave up baby Zan for adoption, Liz's powers began to affect her health dangerously. It wasn't something Max, or any Earthly remedy, could heal. They discovered that the piece of spaceship that Michael took from the military base in Crash was a fragment of the granolith. Max used the fragment to travel back in time and prevent Liz from getting shot, thereby preventing the changes that resulted in her developing powers. (To find out how that trip might have played out, check out my fic The Bitter Dregs. And if you recognize the post-4AAAB events as derivative of the false spoilers for the series finale, bravo!)

So for the second time, a Max Evans traveled through time to save a Liz Parker. The thing is, this time his actions had repercussions in more than one universe.;) A tear in time/space opened, which allowed certain information to pass to another Max Evans in his dreams…

This one is for sheer fun.:D
Hugs, Tas


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

"Michael, are you going to get that?" I have a heavy barbell suspended over my chest, clearly not in a position to answer the phone, and he's sitting there ignoring the damn thing. If he weren't my best friend forever as well as my roommate for the last four years, I'd kick his ass.

"Yeah, fine," he grumbles, picking up the ringing phone. "Hello?"

I watch a smile tug at his lips and figure out who it must be, just as Michael hits a button on the base and replaces the receiver, activating the speaker phone.

"Max?" comes the expected female voice, and I smile. Our other best friend.

"I'm here, Maria. What's up?"

"Did you read the poem for the take home Romantics exam yet?"

"Yeah." I already know it backwards and forwards. It's a classic.

"What the hell is he talking about?"

I have to laugh at that. Maria's been struggling through this class since the beginning of the semester. "Bring me Starbucks in the morning and I'll explain it to you."

"You're on." Her relief is palpable. "What're you guys doing tonight?"

"I had my weekly outing last night," Michael practically purrs and I shake my head.

"Yeah, and I hope you had as much fun as it sounded like. Man, she was loud!"

Maria starts giggling and Michael grimaces at me. "Operatic, actually. She's a singer," he explains. "Unfortunately, she apparently had a better time than I did. I don't plan to see her again."

"What is it with you and musicians?" Maria wonders. Michael and I exchange a look. He knows that I know how he feels about her, but Michael's not willing to do anything about it so we keep silent.

"What about you, Mare? I'm free tonight." I cover the awkward moment.

"Saturday night and Max Evans doesn't have any plans?" The sarcasm is slightly strong.

"Christine had to cancel. Her mom had a minor stroke or something; I didn't get all the details. Anyway, I told her to call me when she gets back into town if she still wants to go out, and sent some flowers to the hospital." I shrug it off.

"You sound a little breathless, Max," she observes.

"Oh, he's doing his George act," Michael breezes.

"My what?" How did I miss that choice nickname?

"George of the Jungle, Max. Code for working out," he smirks.

"Oh." There's nothing I can say to dignify that so I keep doing reps.

"Who's Christine again?" Maria asks.

"She's in our poetry class. Long blonde hair, in sort of ringlets, sits behind John."

"Oh, yeah. She's pretty enough. So have you gone out with her already?"

Michael snorts. "What kind of stupid question is that? I'm going to be married with kids before Maxwell commits to a second date."

"Only if you forget to use a condom," I shoot at him. I'm sure Maria's rolling her eyes by now.

"Never. I'm always careful," he protests.

Maria butts in. "You never know, Guerin. Besides, it's a little unusual to send a girl's mother flowers when you haven't even dated said girl yet."

"What was I supposed to do? Her mom's in the hospital! She's a human being, for Chrissakes." Why am I getting defensive? I finish the complete set of my bench presses and sit up with a groan. Not from the exercise; from the conversation.

"All right, then if you two aren't busy I'm going to come over tonight. And I'm bringing a friend, to help dispel all the testosterone," Maria informs us tartly.

I laugh. "What, you don't think you can hold your own?" Every now and again she does bring a girlfriend with her. Supposedly it's to keep us on our best behavior. Neither Michael nor I do anything differently when there's a fourth person, except maybe flirt more.

"Nah, I can feel the caveman vibes from here today. I'll be there eightish. Oh, Max, after your shower make liberal use of air freshener and Febreze. Eau de Sweaty Man is only acceptable in bed, and I don't sleep with either of you!"

"Aye aye, cap'n," I salute her, even though she can't see it, and Maria laughs. The phone clicks as she hangs up.

"I suppose that means I have to get dressed today," Michael complains.

"Not if you don't care if Maria's friend takes off screaming," I tease. "One of us better do a run for snacks and drinks, too, 'cause I don't think we have anything."

"Why, Max! Planning to get the poor girl drunk and seduce her?" He flutters his eyelashes outrageously and I resist the urge to hit him.

"You know Maria likes to unwind with us, because she knows we won't do that. Okay, you would, but not to her." I sidestep the question and we both know why. I date a lot of different girls but I don't sleep with any of them. I can't. Not physically can't—I'm not in desperate need of Viagra or anything. Might be easier if that were the problem; there'd be light at the end of the tunnel then. As it is, there's only one woman I want to hear cry out in passion and I haven't seen her in years.

It's different for Michael. Once he accepted that there's no chance of us going back to Antar, he threw himself into the human experience. His grades in college make people scratch their heads when comparing them to the dismal mess that was high school. And he's actually had girlfriends. Not long-term or really serious ones, but it's still a huge step up for him. Then there's Maria. She's brought a lot of sunshine to both our lives. I honestly don't know how I would have gotten through the last three and a half years of college without her. The two of them adamantly refuse to move their relationship past best friends and I get hit from both sides when I go guilt tripping about it. Because one of the biggest reasons they won't take that step is me. Specifically, me being in love with Maria's lifelong best friend and not being able to do anything about it, for a whole laundry list of reasons. Most of them having to do with past lives and alternate realities. Well, and genetics. Did I mention that my life is complicated?

"Maxwell. Snap out of it and go shower." Michael deliberately breaks the spell—he knows the signs.

"Right. Thanks." He nods as I toss him a quick smile.

"Yeah. Listen, I'll throw some gear on and go to the store while you're Febrezing." The trademark smirk appears and I can't help but laugh as I head for that warm water.

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

Eight o'clock has come and gone, which is completely expected. Michael does a dying of shock act every time Maria actually shows up on time for something. So when the knock sounds, he checks the clock and shakes his head while he stands up to let her in. I don't bother moving off the couch; it's a casual night.

I hear them bantering at the door and the indistinct sound of another female voice. Michael laughs at whatever she's said and there's an odd note in the sound. Curiosity stirring, I lever myself onto my feet and face the door, and Maria speaks with a quick brightness.

"Max, you remember Liz Parker."

Soft lighting, from dozens of candles. The gem in the hollow of her throat sparkles as we turn slow circles, swaying to the music. Her face is tipped up, those fathomless dark eyes trained on me.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"I used to trade off with my mom. She'd teach me to dance and I'd get out of some chores. She said I'd be grateful for it some day." Mom was right.

She smiles at me and I can feel my heart pounding, my blood rushing. We've been in each other's arms like this for hours, since the after dinner coffee was cleared away. Sometimes talking and other times simply reveling in the closeness. But not too close; I've kept a paper thin, respectful distance between our bodies.

Until now, when she erases that space and melts into me. Her gaze melts too, liquid in the candlelight. Reflecting her awareness of my arousal and her response. As if she's been too bold, lush lashes veil her eyes and she rests her head on my shoulder. But she doesn't pull away and we continue to move, pressed intimately together. I know she can hear how my breathing grows somewhat erratic. Her only acknowledgement is to slide her hand up from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and she strokes her fingers through the short hair there.

It's later and we're standing in front of her door. I don't want the night to end. She bestows on me another one of those dazzling smiles.

"I had a wonderful time, Max. I'm glad you finally asked me out."

"Me, too." God, I want to kiss her! Her body language tells me she wants me to, so we both lean in and that's when it happens. I get a flash. Our lips haven't even touched yet and I'm seeing her playing dress-up as a little girl, the white lace tablecloth over her head clearly meant to be a bridal veil.

I've seen a similar flash before—secondhand, in my dreams. But I've never experienced one myself like this. It seems this is one area where I definitely fall short of my alternate self because my instinctive reaction is panic. Then again, he was already in full panic mode when he got his first flash from Liz, since she was dying on the Crashdown floor. Thank God my dreams about his life started early enough to skip that horror. Me, I get my first flash in a nice romantic situation, and I blow it.

I can only imagine what kind of appalled look is on my face, from the hurt flooding Liz's eyes. I have no idea what I'm saying as I babble some excuse, turn tail and run.

Literally.

"Unutterable asshole!" she flings after me, and I can't dispute that. But my feet are listening to my fear, not my heart, so I keep running.


It's more than four years later, and I still don't know what I said. Liz cooled off, of course, and her logic kicked in, telling her that it wasn't your run-of-the-mill intimacy freak out. We'd been plastered to each other for hours, our lips mere inches apart any number of times, so my running made no sense whatsoever to her. She cornered me about two weeks later, but by then it was too late. I'd had the last burst of dreams and I knew I couldn't risk her life by getting involved with her. I went with the 'unutterable asshole' idea and told her some crap about leaving because I'd figured out she wasn't going to invite me up for sex.

She hasn't spoken to me since. The remainder of senior year was just slightly hellish but at least Liz was safe. And safe she's stayed, far away from me and all things alien.

Until tonight.
Last edited by Tasyfa on Mon Jan 09, 2006 11:12 pm, edited 40 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
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Tasyfa
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
Location: Canada

Soundtrack!!

Post by Tasyfa »

The musical accompaniment to Splitscreen. :D
hugs, Tas

Hella Good ~~ No Doubt
Feel Like Makin' Love ~~ Dangerous Toys
I Feel The Earth Move ~~ Carole King
Turn The Lights On ~~ Big Sugar
Breathless ~~ The Corrs
Can't Fight The Moonlight ~~ LeAnn Rimes
Wasn't That A Party ~~ Irish Rovers
Are You Ready ~~ AC/DC
Slow Hand ~~ Pointer Sisters
Lean On Me ~~ Club Nouveau
Seduce Me Tonight ~~ Cycle V
Your Body Is A Wonderland ~~ John Mayer
Mouth ~~ Bush
I Love Rock & Roll ~~ Joan Jett & The Blackhearts
Keep On Loving Me ~~ Colin James
Underneath Your Clothes ~~ Shakira
Last edited by Tasyfa on Sat Apr 12, 2003 11:02 am, edited 1 time 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

Chapter Two

Post by Tasyfa »

Hey! What'd I tell ya? Wednesday nights LOL! Let's hope I can keep on schedule here.:)
hugs, Tas

FROM CHAPTER ONE

It's more than four years later, and I still don't know what I said. Liz cooled off, of course, and her logic kicked in, telling her that it wasn't your run-of-the-mill intimacy freak out. We'd been plastered to each other for hours, our lips mere inches apart any number of times, so my running made no sense whatsoever to her. She cornered me about two weeks later, but by then it was too late. I'd had the last burst of dreams and I knew I couldn't risk her life by getting involved with her. I went with the 'unutterable asshole' idea and told her some crap about leaving because I'd figured out she wasn't going to invite me up for sex.

She hasn't spoken to me since. The remainder of senior year was just slightly hellish but at least Liz was safe. And safe she's stayed, far away from me and all things alien.

Until tonight.



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter Two*****

"Hi, Max." Her voice has deepened a little, become even sexier. How is that possible?

"Hey, Liz. You look good." Understatement. The low-slung jeans and cropped pink sweater outline every curve, and she's continued to let her hair grow unimpeded. It's below her waist now and I can't help thinking that if she were naked, the tapered ends would brush past her tailbone and draw the eye to the cleft between her buttocks… Ahem. I'm suddenly grateful that I tossed on a relatively loose T-shirt and left it untucked over my own jeans, since the rest of me is also noticing how good she looks.

"I hope you guys don't mind, me showing up like this," Liz says a tad nervously.

"Not at all. Mare said she wasn't coming alone." I dredge up a smile. "Can I get you something?" I list off what Michael bought earlier and her eyes widen a little.

"That's quite a variety."

"Oh, that's not for them, hon—neither of them drink. They're dolls and stock all the stuff I like. Cranberry Mike's, please, Max," Maria requests sunnily.

"I'll have the same," Liz answers when I give her a quizzical look. "Maria, I didn't think you drank a lot."

"She doesn't," Michael chimes in. "But heaven help you if you don't have exactly what she wants when she is in the mood!"

Liz laughs and Maria grumbles as I go get their drinks. I have no doubt that Liz is as used to catering to Maria's eccentricities as we are, if not more so.

When I return, they're seated at the table and Michael's turned off the TV in favor of the stereo. I pass the bottles to the women and sit in the vacant seat, across from Michael. He picks up the deck of cards and shuffles them several times.

"You guys want to play poker?" he asks. We all exhibit some form of agreement and he starts to deal, calling out five card stud, deuces wild.

I reach for the plastic container that holds the chips. Then I see the look on his face and my hand freezes midair. I know that look. It's sly and reeks of mischief, and it gets me into deep shit every time.

Michael drawls, "As for stakes, why don't we play for clothes?"

"You want to play strip poker?" Maria clarifies and he grins.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Is that a problem?"

"Hardly," she snorts. "Liz, okay with you?"

I can't even look at Liz as she murmurs assent. Instead I stare fixedly at Michael. It's supposed to be a death stare but apparently I can't hold a candle to my sister's nonverbal daggers because he smirks at me, and that tells me all I need to know. Not only that Michael's feeling dangerous—which frequently is dangerous, at least for me—but that this was a deliberate choice, just to fuck me up.

"Fine, I'm in," I answer the unspoken challenge. I can do this. The only question is, do I want to win or lose?

Maria lays down the law. "If we're going to participate, then these are the rules. Socks count as one article of clothing each. Uh, no one's wearing shoes so that doesn't matter. Michael's baseball cap counts as one article. Jewelry also counts as one article, no matter how much you're wearing." She shakes her arm and the stacked bangles decorating her wrist jangle cheerily. "Good thing for you two. Each point lost equals one article of clothing removed per team. When both members of a team are buck naked, game's over, but all participants have to remain in whatever state of undress they're in for at least an hour afterwards. All right?"

"Cool," Michael agrees easily. I think Liz is almost as perturbed as I am but we both nod. Again with the dilemma. Do I want to spend an hour trying to hide a serious erection, or trying to prevent myself from attacking a naked Liz Parker? Maybe if I take a piss right now, and then lose, I can stay sitting at the table throughout the game and for the hour after. How do I let Michael goad me into this kind of shit?

"I'll be back in a minute," I mumble and go to the bathroom. On the way back, I snag four more bottles of Mike's and the big plastic bottle of Cherry Coke, with a bowl of ice. Maria's eyes get round at the armful of stuff when I sit down.

"What the hell is all that?" Michael wants to know.

I pass everything around to the appropriate people, leaving the ice in one corner of the table.

"'All that' is so anyone who doesn't want to flash the room doesn't have to." He snickers but he knows me well enough not to say anything. The women murmur their thanks and we play the first hand.

An hour and a half later, we've all lost everything non-essential: hat, socks, jewelry, pants. Maria comes back from making another drink run for Liz and herself, sitting down overly carefully. I think they're both feeling it, even though Michael did get munchies and we're all indulging in those.

Possible growing intoxication aside, they still win this hand and Michael nods at me. Apparently since I'm the one who's shy of exposing myself, I get to de-shirt first. Gotta love the Guerin logic. (Not.) But it is just my T-shirt, which isn't that big a deal, particularly since Maria's already seen me naked so I pull it over my head and drop it onto the rest of my stuff behind my chair.

Liz makes this breathless little sound and I glance at her, startled, as Maria giggles.

"What?" I've gotten a few reactions to going topless before, like when playing basketball in the park, but horrified-sounding gasps and laughter are both unnerving new ones.

"Liz didn't believe me when I told her you were ripped."

I look down at myself; the skin seems to be intact. "Where?"

Now Liz is laughing too, and Michael holds it together long enough to tell me, "She means muscular, doofus. Not that you're bleeding."

Oh. "I guess, yeah. That's my stuff over there." I wave vaguely towards the home gym equipment neatly arranged in the corner of the livingroom. "And before you ask, Maria, yes I cleaned it all as requested."

"So what, um, what did you work on today?" Liz asks me, with this tilt to her head that suggests she has some idea of what she's talking about.

"Bench presses, other upper body strength routines," I tell her. She nods.

"Leg work tomorrow then, right?"

"Yeah." I must look surprised because she smiles.

"I do weights too. Low weights; I don't want to bulk up, just tone and keep my metabolism running high. It—looks good on you, though," she says shyly.

The self-conscious thing is hitting an all-time high but I also feel warm from her approving expression. I repress the urge to cross my arms over my chest. What was that about it not being a big deal? All I have to say is, Michael's boxers are coming off first if it gets down to that. Especially since he's got on like the loosest pair he owns, while I'm wearing those boxer-brief things that cling. Normally they're much more comfortable for me, but normally they're also not all I'm wearing.

"Thanks. You, too. Michael, you going to deal, man?"

The women lose the next hand and silently confer. Then Liz reaches behind herself and does some arcane things inside her top. A minute later, she pulls this wisp of pale pink lace out from her sleeve.

"Holy shit, is that a whole bra? There's hardly anything there to like, be supportive!" Michael blurts out. I wasn't going to say it, but he's got a point.

Liz smiles. "I'm not really in dire need of support, Michael, in case you hadn't noticed."

The words are out before I even think about them. "You're not in danger of gravity distortion either, meaning you still look perfect naked."

Michael kicks me under the table, because of course I'm not supposed to know what Liz looks like naked. Not that I have any firsthand experience, but my alternate self remembered her body in excruciating detail. Definitely some of the more interesting dreams.

Liz's mouth hangs open a bit. Maria beams, exclaiming, "I knew there was a reason I loved you!"

"Thanks, Mare," I smile at her. We've talked about physical insecurities before so she knows that I'm being sincere but Liz clearly didn't expect me to say something that forward. Any more than I did.

We win the next hand. Maria does the same mysterious wiggle and produces red satin—about as much satin as Liz had lace. Or should I say as little?

Michael smirks. "Aw, I was hoping one of you would be adventurous and take off your shirt first."

Liz giggles. "Is that a roundabout way of saying, 'Show me your tits'?"

We all laugh, because of course it is just that, then Maria snorts derisively. "Jeez, Guerin, if you're that hard up, here!"

She pulls the front of her top up to her shoulders for a split second before smoothing it back down. I look away but still catch the view from the corner of my eye. Maria has small, softly plump breasts that look a disturbing amount like Liz's. I have to laugh at the utterly nonplussed expression on Michael's face, though. I don't think I've ever seen him that openly shocked.

"So, let's play," Maria says brightly, and we do. Naturally, Michael and I play like complete shit. Two hands later, Michael stands up, making a show of reluctance, and strips off his boxers. Liz's eyes widen before she looks away. Maria boldly looks him up and down before pronouncing him half decent. I can feel a case of the long-suffering rolling eyeballs coming on as he bows and reseats himself. I kick him under the table, hard.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"Pay attention to the damned cards, Mike."

He laughs but he knows I'm serious as Liz deals so he does buckle down. We win the next three hands and suddenly there's only one left to play: for mine or Liz's underwear.

Liz sits slightly hunched over, her collarbone pressed against the edge of the table so she remains mostly unseen. Maria's less inhibited, sitting completely upright and not caring the least bit that Michael's gaze keeps straying below her face. I'm with Liz: assets under the table.

I deal the cards, trying to ignore the see-sawing in my brain. My indecision ends up being totally irrelevant because Maria has a royal flush, and the next thing I know, I'm maneuvering in my chair, feeling very undignified as I get naked as privately as possible.

Maria squeals in triumph when I drop the clingy boxers onto the pile of clothing behind my chair. She partially stands, leaning over the table with one hand raised, clearly looking for a high five from Liz. I figure Liz'll make her lean all the way over, given how shy she seems, but no. She echoes Maria's action and they slap palms in the middle of the table. Liz sits again hurriedly, but not before she…bounces, far too appealingly. Her cheeks are a little pink—a darker pink than the scrap of lace that proclaims her team the winner.

Michael and I share a look of commiseration and I know he's got the same problem. Six pieces of wood holding up a four-legged table. There would have to be potential death or very large quantities of cash involved to make me stand up now.

"Well, I want another drink. Liz, guys, anything?" Maria asks briskly.

"I'm good," I tell her. Michael shakes his head.

"Me, please," Liz smiles. Maria gets up to go into the kitchen and Michael's eyes nearly pop out.

"You're a real blonde!"

Liz shakes, she's laughing so hard, and I'm getting a good laugh at Michael's expense too. "She's been telling you that for years, Guerin."

"Well, yeah, but…" he trails off, not sure how to say he didn't believe her. Maria doesn't miss the implication and smacks him across the back of the head.

"Now you know." She gestures to herself then leaves the room. Michael watches her go, and come back. He is such a goner, if he'd only admit it.

Maria passes Liz an open bottle of Mike's and the four of us talk easily about whatever for a while. No one bothered looking at the clock when the game was over, so no one knows when the hour is up and we all kind of ignore that fact. Finally Liz begins to fidget noticeably and Michael asks her what's wrong. She sighs and scrunches her nose.

"I have to pee."

"So?" He doesn't get the issue.

"Go ahead, we won't look," I reassure her, glaring at Michael when he might protest. I keep glaring at him until he closes his eyes. I turn my head away from Liz, hearing her push the chair back from the table.

There's a soft touch on my shoulder and I automatically look toward it. It's a natural reflex, and Liz must know that as well as I do. I'd bet that she's also aware of just whereabouts on her body my eye level is when seated. So much for not looking.

"Thanks." It's a mere whisper of sound, and she flicks her eyes towards Michael while keeping her hand on my shoulder. I nod and Liz smiles, her fingers lingering as she walks away. Obviously she's not comfortable with Michael seeing her practically naked, but I don't seem to bother her, and I'm not sure what to think about that—or how to feel.

Not until she's in the bathroom does it occur to me that standing close enough to put her hand on my shoulder means that Liz got a full frontal view. I think about scooting my chair closer to the table, so its contact with my stomach blocks the rest of me, but it's a little late now. There's been a subtle shift in the rules, and I don't know what they are anymore. The good news is that I'm not nearly as embarrassed as I thought I would be.

Michael and Maria adjourn to the couch, sitting all entangled and it makes me think that maybe the rules have shifted for them, too, tonight. Their heads bend together, one dark, one light as they talk in low voices. I just sit and take deep breaths, finding some measure of calm in this crazy evening. I can feel my body relaxing. Rather more acutely than usual, with the way the vinyl seat of the chair sticks unpleasantly to my bare ass. Now I know why Maria bitches that we need chair pads every time she sits down wearing a short skirt. At least I can stand up without humiliating myself.

Liz comes out with her hands crossed over her chest. She sways a little, looking like she might pass out. Maria must see it too because she gives me a pleading smile. "Max, would you put Liz to bed, please?"

"Excuse me?" She did not just say that.

"Max." Yes, she did.

"Maria," I start to give her some excuse and she glares.

"Max, you're sober, I'm not. Liz isn't comfortable with Michael at this precise moment in time. Get over yourself and go make her lie down and sleep somewhere." It's definitely an order. I congratulate myself on my foresight in attempting to relax because I'm getting tense again. However, Maria's right. I'm the only option, and Liz is leaning against the wall like she really needs the support.

I cross the room quickly and pick her up just as she starts to crumple. God, she weighs next to nothing.

"Liz, you need to eat more."

She giggles into my shoulder. Her arms uncross and she slips one around my neck as I carry her into my bedroom and kick the door closed behind me. She's sitting too high up on my body to notice and no one else can see anymore that I am at complete attention. Liz tips her face up to look at me, her cheek resting on my collarbone as our eyes meet. I can't read her gaze at all, but the feeling of her fingers caressing the nape of my neck is deliciously familiar. A terrific longing to kiss her sweeps through me and I know that she would accept a kiss. Welcome it, even, the way her tongue moistens her parted lips while she stares at me. But I can't do it. She's had too much to drink and doesn't know what she's doing. And even if that weren't the case, it would so not be a good idea. I'd be leading us both on.

"You can sleep here." Carefully I put her down on the bed, breaking eye contact so I don't know if she's relieved or disappointed. I slide my arms out from underneath her and she grabs my hand.

"Don't go." Surprised, I notice she seems kind of scared.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. Michael won't come in, either; my room's off limits. I'll stay if you want me to, though." The last part slips out of its own accord.

"Please." As if she trusts that I'll stay now that I've said I would, Liz closes her eyes and huddles on her side. I go to pull the covers over her but she frowns and squirms so I leave it alone. They're right there if she gets cold, anyway. I drop into the chair at the bedside with a sigh.

Unbelievable. I've fantasized about Liz Parker for years, and here she is, in my bed, where I never dreamed she'd be under any circumstances. Although the current ones are far more innocent than my usual imaginings.

"So fucking beautiful," I whisper, unable to look away from her. She makes that snuffling, wheezing sound sleeping people make and I smile. Who knew she did something so ordinary?

I could sit and watch her forever, except the longer my eyes roam over her nearly nude form, the more I ache, inside and out. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so much it literally hurts. I know that other Max felt it, but dreaming about someone else's life experiences does not prepare you for how blatantly physical some feelings are, even when the someone else is a version of yourself in an alternate reality. There is no way I'm getting any sleep like this.

My hand gradually drifts up my thigh while I think about it then I surrender to the inevitable and close my fist around my cock. It's not that I'm averse to masturbation—as a twenty-one-year-old virgin, you'd better believe that I am well acquainted with my hands—but it feels forbidden. There's an edge of danger because I'm not alone. Even if the gorgeous woman in my bed is passed out cold.

"Liz." I can't help murmuring her name as my breath catches and I start to stroke in earnest. "Oh, God." The flaring pleasure is brighter than it's ever been.

I freeze momentarily when Liz wheezes again and shifts, turning onto her back with one arm flung over her head and the other over her face, like the faint light in the room's bothering her eyes. Except she's still asleep, her eyes closed, so I keep going.

Helplessly my gaze tracks the newly exposed skin. The pale silhouette of her breasts against the black padded leather headboard is intensely erotic. Particularly the not so pale tips, pebbled and hardening in the cool air. I get a dream flash of her moaning when I suck her nipples and a soft moan of my own escapes. I curl my free hand over my erection to trap the fluid as I come hard, breathing out, "Liz."

It takes a few minutes to come down from the high, and then sanity returns and I cannot believe that I just did that. I haven't been this impulsive since…since asking Liz out in high school. Simply being around her has a profound effect on me, which apparently hasn't faded any with time and distance. Am I happy about that? Upset? Who the hell knows.

I clean myself up and slump forward, elbow on the chair arm, chin in hand, and stare moodily at the bewitching creature occupying my bed. "Liz Parker. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Of course she doesn't answer. She's dead to the world. It's oddly soothing to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Maybe because it reminds me that her continued breathing is why I'm over here and not sharing mattress space, regardless of my bodily instincts.

Eventually Liz turns back onto her side, coiling into a ball and I figure she's gotten cold at last. I should quit the statue act and get some sleep, too. I go over and pull the covers up. This time she snuggles in with a contented sigh. I smile and smooth her hair back, letting my fingers wander through the lustrous strands for a moment. Then I open a drawer and grab my loosest pair of boxers. Upon further reflection, I also pick up the old man pajamas that I only ever wear when my parents are around and put them on too. Next is the pillow Liz isn't using and the blanket folded across the bottom of the duvet, and I hit the floor for the night.
"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
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
Location: Canada

Chapter Three

Post by Tasyfa »

Carol Hee! Actually, Forging is nearing completion (don't faint!;) ) so you may want to wait a wee bit longer.:D

Happy Wednesday, all! I'd say Happy Hump Day, but that'd give y'all the wrong idea and plus, it's a short week so that was yesterday. :P
hugs, Tas



FROM CHAPTER TWO

Eventually Liz turns back onto her side, coiling into a ball and I figure she's gotten cold at last. I should quit the statue act and get some sleep, too. I go over and pull the covers up. This time she snuggles in with a contented sigh. I smile and smooth her hair back, letting my fingers wander through the lustrous strands for a moment. Then I open a drawer and grab my loosest pair of boxers. Upon further reflection, I also pick up the old man pajamas that I only ever wear when my parents are around and put them on too. Next is the pillow Liz isn't using and the blanket folded across the bottom of the duvet, and I hit the floor for the night.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter Three*****

Morning comes and I'm stiff as a board from sleeping on the floor. At least I assume it's morning. It's hard to tell in my room—I like it dark. Blackout shades on the window, black leather and mahogany furniture. Not real mahogany, that stuff costs a fortune, but it's not the cheap wannabe oak that peels when you look at it either. Of course, the fact that everything matches and there are actual accessories means that my sister was involved in the shopping process.

Nature calls so I stand up and stretch. Liz is still in my bed, somewhere. There's a lump under the covers and a couple of inches of dark hair sticking out where I assume the pillow must be. Right in the middle of the mattress. It makes me laugh.

I take care of business, brush my teeth and do all that am-I-really-awake morning stuff, including turning on the coffeemaker. Then I pick up Liz's clothes and take them into my room, folding them onto the chair. Her bra really is tiny. It must be one of those, uh, I know this, it sounds French. Demi-cups, that's it. Sure her breasts aren't huge, but they're too big for this piece of lace to cover them completely.

Bet my hands would, though. I ignore the way my mind starts sifting through the set of alter-memories my dreams blessed me with, to check. This is way too dangerous. Get dressed and get out, I tell myself.

My own clean clothes on top of the dresser, I take off the pajamas and stick them back into the drawer then reach for my jeans.

"Max?" Oh, shit. Well, no clingy boxer-briefs this time, that's an improvement.

"Yeah, Liz, what's up?" I turn to face her and she's propped up a bit, just her face peeking out from the blankets. Her hair's a mess. Damn, she looks sexy.

"Come here?" It hovers somewhere between a request and a demand. Either way I know I shouldn't, but I go sit beside her anyway.

"Coffee should be ready in a few minutes. Maria keeps a toothbrush and hairbrush in the bathroom if you want to use them. They're easy enough to identify—both pink."

Liz laughs and then she sits up and I almost stop breathing because she lets the covers slide off her nude torso.

"Uh, Liz? What—"

"I saw you, Max. Last night," she interrupts, moving closer. She must be on her knees under there; I can't tell since she's still obscured from the waist down.

"Yeah, I know. I figured that out as soon as you went into the bathroom."

She's right in front of me now, her eyes boring into mine as she licks her lips. "No, I mean I saw you."

I must look as confused as I feel because she decides to jog my memory, her slim fingers reaching inside my shorts to grip my cock. I gulp in air while she strokes me. Somehow I'm kneeling now, hands on her waist pulling her closer, lips pressed to her forehead for a moment.

"You were asleep," I whisper. I can barely think. Her hands are smaller than mine, and softer. I wonder if I'll smell like some feminine hand lotion later.

"Only until the first time you said my name. Then I realized what you were doing and I turned over on purpose. Seemed to work for you." Her gaze is challenging.

Yeah, it certainly did, but I'm not about to admit that. "It was convenient."

Liz's little smile says that she knows I'm lying through my teeth. Of course she does—she probably heard the rest of what I said last night, too. Come to think of it, she was probably awake when I covered her up, for Chrissakes. What was my radar doing?

"Liz, please." I don't know if I'm asking her to stop or keep going.

"I can take you as far as you did." Which was all the way.

I can't let it happen. It kills me, but I remove her hand from my aching anatomy. "No."

She uses her freedom to pull my hips flush with hers and I lose it. I push her down, pinning her wrists to the mattress, my body cradled between her open legs. Deliberately I thrust my hardness against her, watching her face as she feels it.

"If I were less of a gentleman, this would have been somewhere other than my own hand last night, Parker. You'd had more than enough to drink."

Wide eyes stare up at me. "I wouldn't say no."

"I know you wouldn't have, and I wasn't going to take advantage of you, Liz." That's not who I am.

"I know that, Max."

"Why, because you feel safe with me?" The question sounds a lot more cutting than I meant it to be. Because she's not. That other Liz felt safe with her Max and it killed her. That's about as unsafe as it gets.

"Safe?" she queries thoughtfully. "If by safe you mean I was confident that you wouldn't ravish me while I was hammered or asleep, then yes. You're not that kind of person. If on the other hand, by safe you mean that I feel like a protected piece of china around you, then no. There's definitely something a little dangerous about the amazing, unbreakable Max Evans. But what you might or might not have done last night wasn't what I was talking about."

She's lost me. "What?"

The corners of her mouth tip up. "Interesting. The English major doesn't recognize the present tense. Tsk tsk."

Her words replay in my head, I wouldn't say no. Oh, Lord, am I in trouble. There's mischief and yes, desire all over her face. If I keep looking at her I'm going to kiss her so my head drops to the pillow.

That's almost worse. The fabric is permeated with her scent and the delicate curve of her neck is right there, gleaming in invitation. Liz sighs and shifts beneath me. I am acutely aware that very little separates our bodies. As she moves again I realize that what is there is soaking wet, and it isn't from me.

I make a faint sound, nearly a whimper, and then I fasten my mouth to her neck and suck hard in an effort to control myself. I am this close to ripping off those absurdly small panties and burying my cock inside Liz. That's the thought that finally brings me up short. This is not how I want my first time. Which means that I have to get out of here right now, before I lose what little mental ability is still functioning. I lift my head, grimacing at the deep red marring her creamy skin.

"Good to know, Liz, but I am saying no. I don't like playing games, and I'm not about to throw away my virginity on a whim." That surprises her, enough that she goes limp and I hastily move off her and stand up. "Your clothes are on the chair. I'm going to get some coffee."

I leave the room immediately. My clothes from last night are piled by the table and I pull them on, then I go sit in the kitchen with a big cup of coffee. What the fuck just happened?

By the time Maria wanders in a few minutes later, I'm in full brood mode and not really appreciating her amused glances. She gets herself some juice and sits with me, and I notice that she's wearing one of Michael's T-shirts and little else.

"Did you guys get somewhere last night?" I gesture to her outfit.

"Nah, I just borrowed his shirt and some bed space. Michael knows he's not getting into my pants until mine are the only pair he's wearing," she says loftily. The thought of Michael in some of Maria's often wildly colored pants makes me smile. "So what crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nice imagery, Maria. Is Liz promiscuous?" Ow. I knew that would earn me a swat.

"What the hell would make you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that she stuck her hand down my pants then offered me sex."

She nearly chokes on her orange juice and that makes getting hit worth it. "Liz did what? My Liz?"

"Yes, your Liz. She tried to seduce me this morning." I have to resist the urge to say, 'No, my Liz.' She's not mine, or Maria's either for that matter. Liz is definitely her own person.

Maria gets this speculative expression that gives me butterflies. "Did you do or say something that indicated you might be interested?"

I shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, inadvertently. She was asleep. Or, well, she was until I—said her name." I wait for Maria to connect the dots and when she does her eyes round dramatically.

"You didn't!" she gasps.

I can feel my neck and ears getting red. "Unfortunately, I did. I couldn't help it, Maria. You're the one that made me pick her up while there was maybe four inches of lace in the way, and you know she's a weak spot for me. What would you have done?"

She sighs and offers me a wry smile. "Probably wake him up when I turned my vibrator on." We share a laugh.

"What am I going to do?"

"What did you say after this morning's activities?" There's a diplomatic way to phrase it.

"That I wasn't willing to lose my virginity on a whim. Liz seemed surprised, but I don't know if it's because I said no or because I admitted to being a virgin. Then I told her I'd brought her clothing in, and left."

"Probably about the no. She already knows you're a virgin." Maria won't meet my eyes. My mouth twists in sudden certainty.

"You've been telling her stuff all this time, haven't you? Detailed stuff, I mean. As in more detailed than what you tell me about her." Her evasive looks confirm my accusation. "Jesus, Maria!"

"What? Do you want me to lie to her when she asks about you? Or blow her off? Not gonna happen, Evans. Liz has been my closest friend since grade school. If she asks me something, I'm going to answer her, or do it for her. That's what it's about. I know you and Michael have the same system so don't give me any crap."

I can't dispute that, and the anger drains out of me. "Sorry. I'm a little edgy. I've never had anyone…do that, before, and I was so not expecting it. I haven't even been kissed yet." Oops. That was supposed to come out, 'I haven't kissed her yet.'

Maria looks at me in shock. "You've dated like half the school, and you haven't kissed any of those girls? Or had any of them try to jump you?"

I squirm a little. "Well, some have tried, but I say no. I don't go out with anyone who doesn't know the rules, Maria, or with anyone that I can't respect. The few times it's gotten sort of awkward, I left." Or used my powers very subtly to keep unwelcome hands away from private parts.

She smiles. "Uh-huh. So, you didn't stop Liz this morning because you weren't sure you wanted to say no."

"Something like that."

"I don't understand what the problem is then, Max. I know you care about her. Clearly you want her. Just as clearly, Liz has finally decided that she wants you. And before you ask, I wasn't privy to that beforehand so I can't give you any insight, except to repeat what I've told you before: she hasn't stopped thinking about you since high school."

I sigh and scrub one hand over my face. My chin is scratchy. Normally I'd have shaved already but everything's all helter skelter this morning. "I've told you before, Maria, over and over again. I cannot get involved in a sexual relationship. Therefore, I can't have a serious one either, because no one's going to stay with me in that weird of a non-platonic relationship. And I wouldn't ask it of anyone anyway, or of myself. Sooner or later I'd care more than I wanted to and I wouldn't be able to help myself, and it is just too dangerous."

Those pouty lips are drooping in a full-fledged scowl. "I know all that. What you have never explained is why it's so damn dangerous. Until you do, I plan to ignore every single one of those reasons."

Ultimatum. What is it with women and ultimatums? "Fine. You want to know? I have a genetic anomaly that makes my bodily fluids potentially dangerous to other people. That means no blood work or transfusions or anything like that, and most especially no sex. Happy now?"

Aw, shit. Her mouth has softened with this small, compassionate smile. "No kissing either?"

"That should be an obvious no." I'm all bristly now. I don't want her feeling sorry for me; it's why I've never said anything, even though I carefully constructed the wording a long time ago so that it didn't reflect the fact that said genetic anomaly is that I'm a hybrid alien king with a lethal tattoo on my brain.

"Even AIDS patients can kiss, Max," she informs me gently.

"Yeah, if neither party has cracked lips or other wounds in their mouth where infected saliva might get into their bloodstream."

Her smile grows. "Stand up, Max."

"What?" I protest.

"Just stand up. And close your eyes." I stand up and close my eyes. I take a lot of orders from human women for a supposed alien king.

There's this tentative pressue against my lips and reflexively I open them. For a long moment, Maria's mouth moves with mine in a soft rhythm. It's not a French kiss or at all instrusive, it's just…nice. Really, really nice.

She moves away and I open my eyes to her smile. "What was that for?"

Maria pats my cheek. "Because your first kiss should be from a woman who cares about you, Max. You and I aren't going to ever be more than close friends, but I definitely care about you."

"Thanks." I pull her into a hug. She's brave, my buddy Maria. Then again she's in love with Michael—I think it's part of the job description. Still, I feel better. Not so much like a freak of nature.

"Going to put the moves on me next, Maxwell? Or are two women enough for you?" Michael saunters into the kitchen. I take the closest seat and scowl at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just saw Liz, heading into the bathroom with an impressive hickey for an amateur. Way to stay away from her, Max." I'd like to wipe the smirk off his face. Obviously he overheard me and Maria as well as glimpsing Liz's neck. She probably went into the bathroom to try to hide it.

"Shut up, Michael. You would try the patience of a saint."

"And you're no saint." His eyes widen when he turns from pouring himself some coffee. Before I can look, Liz's arms slide around me from behind, her hands slipping down onto my chest.

"Good morning," she murmurs in my ear. "Sleep well?" Her lips graze my temple then she lets go and reaches for the coffee that Michael holds out to her. "If you guys have something so humble as breakfast food, I'll make us something to eat."

"Eggs and all that's in the fridge," Michael says immediately. He's certainly not going to turn that offer down. Liz moves towards the refrigerator and my jaw unhinges. She's got her hair pulled into a low ponytail that sweeps over one shoulder—the opposite shoulder from the side of her neck with a crimson circle that screams of sexual activity. She's acting like we really spent the night together. No, she's flaunting it! What the hell?

Michael and Maria are both having a hard time keeping straight faces as Liz starts scrambling eggs, using the dishes that Michael yanks out of various cupboards and drawers. He shakes his head and pours the last of the coffee into his mug.

"Maxwell, you looking for something to fill that?" Michael palms his crotch suggestively and I snap my teeth shut. Shit, I've been sitting here gaping like an idiot the whole time.

"Someone's feeling excessively obnoxious today," Maria reprimands him.

He shrugs. "That's what happens when I take a beautiful girl to bed and have to keep my hands to myself."

She laughs. "Maybe I'll stay on the couch tonight then."

"Tonight?" The question shoots out all on its own. Maria looks at me sympathetically.

"Yeah, my roommate's boyfriend got here yesterday and he's not leaving till Monday. You know how that goes: I get evicted for the weekend. And since Liz is staying with me until we go home for Christmas break, we both need a place to crash tonight." Till break? That's over a week away!

"It's no problem," Michael asserts. He grins evilly at me. "Last night's sleeping arrangements were fine and dandy."

"Thanks, guys." Liz brings over full plates. She and Michael sit down on either side of me and we all dig in. Actually, Michael and I douse our food with Tabasco first but neither of the women comment on it. Maria's used to it, and I guess it's yet another thing she's already filled Liz in on.

Fortunately no one feels any urge to make conversation while we're eating. I need to think about how I can convince Maria to suggest that she sleep in my bed with Liz so I can take the couch. So far, I can't come up with anything that won't make her howl with laughter and refuse.

"Thanks for breakfast, Liz," Michael says in real appreciation. Neither one of us is exactly a whiz in the kitchen so it's always a treat when Maria condescends to cook for us.

"My pleasure," Liz smiles. Her eyes flicker to me and away, making it clear that her word choice was no accident. I can't stop staring at the mark on her neck. Partly in disbelief that I put it there. Partly in triumph for the same reason. I feel seriously territorial. More, my body really wants to give her a matched set. This bites.

"Maria, I assume you brought your books, since you obviously planned on staying over?" I grate out. She looks startled at my tone but shrugs it off and confirms.

"Yeah. Want to get started?"

I lean back in my chair. "Don't you have an errand to run first?"

It takes her a second but she rolls her eyes when she gets it. "Max, you just drank a cartload of coffee."

"Oh, Maria. You know coffee is not the same thing as Maxwell's cappuccino." Michael makes it sound like some kind of perversion. I can't be bothered to chastise him. With Michael, you just have to accept the oddities and move on.

"Right. And Mare, better make it a venti this morning. With two gingerbread biscotti." She wrinkles her nose at me but doesn't protest. After the conversation we had this morning, she's getting off fucking easily for snowing me like this and she knows it.

Maybe after a day spent dissecting Shelley's poetry I'll be relaxed around Liz. Yeah, I believe it too.
"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

Chapter Four

Post by Tasyfa »

From Chapter Three

“Oh, Maria. You know coffee is not the same thing as Maxwell’s cappuccino.” Michael makes it sound like some kind of perversion. I can’t be bothered to chastise him. With Michael, you just have to accept the oddities and move on.

“Right. And Mare, better make it a venti this morning. With two gingerbread biscotti.” She wrinkles her nose at me but doesn’t protest. After the conversation we had this morning, she’s getting off fucking easily for snowing me like this and she knows it.

Maybe after a day spent dissecting Shelley’s poetry I’ll be relaxed around Liz. Yeah, I believe it too.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
NEW Chapter Four

Michael yawns as the printer rattles to life. “That fucker is done!”

“Congratulations,” I tell him sincerely. He’s been working on this massive paper for his European History class. Deprived of the chance to explore Antar’s past, he delved into human history with a passion—even more passion than he shows the women who briefly occupy his life. We’ve never discussed what he plans to do with a History degree, but then I’m an English major so we’re equally unemployable. We frequently tease Maria that once we all graduate, her career better take off fast so that she can support us. It’s not inconceivable; she’s in computer studies. So’s her friend Alex, but he’s at MIT, and I think he’s in programming whereas Maria’s specialty is graphic arts. I’m glad that Alex doesn’t go here, actually. Given what happened to him on this campus in Alter-Max’s life, I don’t think I’d handle seeing him all the time very well. I feel guilty enough when he’s visiting Maria, and I didn’t even do anything. Plus he’s been close to Maria longer, so he’d naturally take precedence over me and Michael, which would suck unbelievably. I need my Maria time. It keeps me sane. Keeps me grounded in reality.

Okay, most of the time. This weekend has been nothing short of surreal. Michael and Maria have been at each other all day. I don’t think that the blatant ‘I want you’ stuff they’ve been throwing out there can still be called flirting—it’s moved a little beyond that. Michael may end up becoming monogamous a lot sooner than he’d expected.

What Liz and I have been doing, that’s flirting. Glances, touches, smiles. It’s impossible to stay impartial when she keeps giving me these scorching looks. At least she waited until after Maria and I had finished our take-home exam before starting in on me, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten a damn thing done. But now it’s getting late, and like I predicted, when I asked Maria earlier about the sleeping arrangements she laughed at me and told me to deal with Liz on my own. I haven’t figured out how to do that yet.

Michael slips his paper into a presentation folder and powers down the computer. He yawns again. “I am going to bed, and if you wake me in the morning you’re a dead man, Maxwell. This isn’t due until five.”

“You’re kidding me, right? I’m not coming into your bedroom.” The strong, sarcastic tone I aim for dies in a yawn.

“Looks like you should be heading for bed too, Max,” Maria says coyly. I give her a dirty look while Liz’s back is turned and Maria smiles sweetly and winks. She follows Michael into his room, leaving Liz and I alone on the couch.

“I’m tired too. My exams were all in a flurry on top of each other last week. Actually, my last one was yesterday right before I flew out here,” Liz offers tentatively.

“Oooh, Saturday morning. I hate those.” Talk flowed naturally during the day but now we seem stuck in limbo.

“Me, too. So, um, shall we?” She stands and looks down at me, and I know what she’s really asking. Or I think I do. I’m not sure I truly know anything at this point.

I rise and look at her briefly. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, I’ll just grab some blankets and sleep here.”

“Max, I don’t want to put you out of your bed again.” Liz lays a hand on my arm and I stare stupidly at it.

“O—okay.” She leads me into my room. I’m not quite with it; still focused on the feel of her hand, wrapped around my forearm. It’s reminiscent of how it would have looked this morning, her fingers separated and curled into her palm while she stroked. Not that my cock’s the size of my arm, thank God, but it’s the same kind of action and it mesmerizes me.

Liz lets go of me and begins removing clothing. I open my mouth but nothing emerges until she’s unsnapping her bra and standing there in just her panties. I look away. “I think I have a pair of shorts with a drawstring waist, so they won’t fall down on you, and I’ll find you a T-shirt too.”

She smiles. Her thumbs hook under the sides of that pink lace thong and start sliding down. “I don’t think I need those, Max. It’s not like you haven’t seen everything already.”

Not everything, I think as I spin around and root through my dresser. “Yeah, Liz, you really do need them.” I feel my face heat at her muffled giggle but I don’t care how prudish I seem. I cannot have her buck naked in my room with me. I’m on dangerously thin ice as it is; that would be like opening a goddamned flamethrower.

I find the boxers I’m thinking of, and I can see why they were a vague memory: they feature dancing snowmen. A white T-shirt joins them and I hold them out to Liz, deliberately keeping my face averted. Her runaway amusement is palpable but she pulls on the clothing as I mutter in explanation for the shorts, “My grandmother.”

“Mine gave me pink sheep on flannel. You got off lucky,” she smiles.

I’m trying very hard not to think about any sort of ‘getting off.’ Liz raises her eyebrows in challenge and I realize I’m supposed to undress now. The second my jeans come off my boxers are going to be at a ninety-degree angle to my body and I’m not going to be able to hide anymore. Crap, now I’m thinking in terms of ‘off.’ What the hell, it’s not like she doesn’t know she turns me on. Maybe if I treat it like no big deal, she will too.

Aren’t delusions comforting?

I strip down to my boxers, somehow maintaining an air of nonchalance, and slip into bed. I don’t know what her expression said when she noticed my arousal, but her voice stayed silent. I clear my throat and hold a pillow out to her. “Night.”

I’m not entirely sure what I’d expected. Liz said she didn’t want to put me out of my bed again, so I assumed that she would take the couch as I had mentioned doing. But she takes the pillow and stares at me for a long moment, and then she slides under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. “Thanks.”

“Liz…” What do I say?

She scoots closer and turns on her side to face me. I do the same, tucking my arm under my head, and we lock eyes. I can hardly breathe. Bad enough that she was in my bed last night. Now I’m in here too.

“Max, Maria told me. About the—about why you don’t go all the way.” Liz is quite serious, her dark eyes searching mine.

My initial reaction is anger, but I quash it fast. Maria would have given her a carefully edited version of our conversation, leaving out the part where she gave me my first kiss. I hope, anyway. No, I’m sure—she knows that it would be too embarrassing for me. But telling Liz about my genetic anomaly, well, that passage of information is one reason why I finally told Maria in the first place. Because I knew she’d be able to phrase it in terms that Liz would comprehend, better than I could, simply by virtue of knowing her far better.

So I nod. “And you understand what that means? That I can’t get seriously involved with someone?” Least of all you?

“More or less.” Her chin sets stubbornly. “I understand that it means using extreme caution, but I do not understand why you can’t have relationships. Some women would be okay with the restrictions and work around them with you.” Her mutinous expression says that she might be one of them and my heart constricts.

Oh, you’re beautiful. “But I’m not okay with working around them, Liz. I’m not comfortable placing someone else in danger for something as trivial as sex.”

A laugh escapes her. “It isn’t just about sex, Max. I know that you know that.”

“Yeah, I do know that. I also know that I would want more, and sooner or later it would only frustrate me and my non-partner and we’d split. I don’t care to put myself through all that.” That’s more open than I’ve ever been. I need for her to understand this, though. I need Liz to know that it isn’t because of her. And I can see in her eyes that she does. She gets it.

“That’s why you ran, isn’t it? In high school. Because you didn’t know how to tell me then.” Smart as ever, Liz Parker.

“Yeah. I’m—I’m really sorry about that. I’d only recently found out, and I hadn’t dealt with it myself yet. I didn’t know what to do.” None of which is a lie; it’s just not quite the same truth that she thinks it is.

She gazes thoughtfully at me for what feels like a long time then the corners of her mouth tip up. “I knew it wasn’t about not getting any.”

I laugh at that. It feels good to have this much at least out in the open. “Yeah, given my status I think that is crystal clear.”

Liz giggles. Her smile is firmly in place as she asks, “So, friends?”

“I’d like that.” I would. As torturous as it might get to spend time with her as her friend, I honestly would love to get to know Liz better. I have all these secondhand memories, but none of them tell me exactly who this woman lying beside me truly is, because she’s different than his Liz. Like I said, she is her own person, and I’d like very much to know that person.

“Me, too. Close your eyes, Max.”

“Excuse me?” She continues smiling at me so I close my eyes. Her lips brush across my closed lids and then, ever so lightly, across my mouth.

She clearly meant it to be a friendly kiss, the chaste kind that Maria gave me this morning. But Liz tastes maddening. My lips part on pure instinct at her touch and there’s a soft whimper of need from somewhere. I can’t be sure if it’s me or Liz because proper verbalization on either of our parts is out of the question.

The hand I have supporting my head moves to tangle in her hair, holding her steady so I can plunder her. My tongue sweeps inside, searching for hers and twining around it. God, she’s completely addictive. I need more. I make love to her mouth, setting an intimate rhythm that swells from some place deep inside me. That foot of space between us vanishes. My free hand is inside her T-shirt—no, inside my T-shirt. That’s my T-shirt covering her straining breasts. My boxers growing damp as she rubs against the thigh I slip between her legs. My hand sliding inside those shorts to cup her sweet ass and pull her closer. Mine.

Liz isn’t idle either, stroking my bare chest and back. Reason isn’t even a distant memory at this precise moment. Until her hands ease my boxers down and I feel air on my heated flesh.

I tear my mouth away from hers, dragging in huge lungfuls of air. We stare at each other. Her lips are stained a dark berry color, swollen and shining. I withdraw my leg and her thighs snap closed. She raises a hand to her mouth, her fingers fluttering as though her skin is hot.

“Holy Mary Mother of God,” Liz breathes.

What the fuck does that mean? “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” she reassures me. “I’m not hurt at all. Um, you should probably…” She glances at my arm and I realize what she means. Oh, Lord. I don’t think there is a polite way to remove your hand from someone’s ass. I gently move it away from her skin and out of the shorts.

“Liz,” I start and she shakes her head. She looks kind of dazed, actually. Which shouldn’t surprise me because neither of us was expecting me to attack her right after I agreed to just friends. Nice move, Evans.

“I think I understand now. What you said, about wanting more. And what you didn’t say, about keeping that kind of—of passion leashed. But after what just happened,” she pauses and wets her lips, looking nervous. “I didn’t know it would be so…”

I smile a little at her fumbling. She obviously doesn’t know what to make of my behavior either. I trace her pouty lower lip with my thumb. “Liz.” Before I say anything, I lean in and kiss her, agonizingly softly, then pull away. “That’s why we can only be friends. Because I already want it all, and I’m not going to risk you that way. I simply can’t do it.”

Liz’s mouth forms into a brief smile and she nods. I kiss her forehead then disentangle myself and flip over, facing away from her. “Night, Liz.”

“Goodnight, Max.” She sounds hesitant, and I know why a minute later when her body forms around me. She dangles a hand over my waist and I clasp it in mine, letting her know that the spooning is okay. The last thing I know before sleep claims me is the softness of her lips resting against my spine.
"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
Addicted Roswellian
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Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
Location: Canada

Chapter 5

Post by Tasyfa »

Sylvia Well, it's not really surprising that you might see similarities in all my Maxes LOL. Since he is who he is, and I am who I am, and how I see him doesn't change all THAT much... ;) Glad to have you, and everyone else! :)
hugs, Tas

FROM CHAPTER 4

“I think I understand now. What you said, about wanting more. And what you didn’t say, about keeping that kind of—of passion leashed. But after what just happened,” she pauses and wets her lips, looking nervous. “I didn’t know it would be so…”

I smile a little at her fumbling. She obviously doesn’t know what to make of my behavior either. I trace her pouty lower lip with my thumb. “Liz.” Before I say anything, I lean in and kiss her, agonizingly softly, then pull away. “That’s why we can only be friends. Because I already want it all, and I’m not going to risk you that way. I simply can’t do it.”

Liz’s mouth forms into a brief smile and she nods. I kiss her forehead then disentangle myself and flip over, facing away from her. “Night, Liz.”

“Goodnight, Max.” She sounds hesitant, and I know why a minute later when her body forms around me. She dangles a hand over my waist and I clasp it in mine, letting her know that the spooning is okay. The last thing I know before sleep claims me is the softness of her lips resting against my spine.




*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter Five*****


“Hey, Iz. What brings you slumming?” I tease my sister as I walk into the apartment. She turns around from her perch on the couch and gives me a closed-lips smile, decorated with a smear of chocolate.

“Mom sent cookies,” Isabel mumbles.

“Cool.” Mom learned fast that if she wanted her daughter to get any of the food she sent us, she’d better send it straight to Isabel. Michael and I aren’t good at waiting for her to come by before devouring whatever Mom’s made.

Mmm, heaven. Nothing tastes better than oatmeal chocolate chip cookies homemade with love. Well, maybe Liz Parker. She’s definitely softer…

Oh, for crying out loud. Get out of my head! We kissed. Once. (Prolonged French kissing still counts as once, right?) So it was fucking amazing. So what? It doesn’t change anything. I still can’t get involved with her.

Then why do my fingertips itch to feel the silken texture of her skin again? It’s been two days since she and Maria went back to the dorm and I can recall every nuance of Liz’s voice with utter clarity. The rustling sound her hair makes against the pillow. Her scent. Of course, that last one has lots of assistance since my bed still smells like Liz. I lie awake for a while at night and just breathe deeply, inhaling her essence. It’s torturously delicious.

I’ve crunched my way through three or four cookies before I notice the silence and glance around warily. Michael and Isabel flank me on the couch. Uh oh. This doesn’t look good.

“What? Is this an intervention or something? Because you guys can have more cookies. I swear I won’t eat them all.”

Isabel sighs condescendingly. “Neither of us cares if you stuff your face, Max. We just want to talk to you.”

“About what?” I see the look they exchange and I grimace. “Let me guess: Liz.”

“It’s not what you think, Maxwell.”

“Right. Look, I’m not involved with Liz; I am not getting involved with Liz. As for what happened on the weekend, she and I discussed it and it’s fine. We are friends. And it was your bright idea to play strip poker in the first place, Michael, so excuse me if your attempt to screw me up worked.”

Maybe that’s a little harsh but I’ve been irritable. Besides, it was his own fault. Michael and his stupid games.

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Max,” Isabel chides.

“You wanted to talk about something else?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I’m not jumping, am I?”

Michael butts in. “Yeah, you are, because we think you should maybe try seeing Liz.”

“What?”

“You can’t fly solo forever, Max.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Oh, yeah, I can.” I don’t know how convincing I sound. Possibly because the truth is that I don’t want to spend my whole life alone. I simply haven’t figured a way around needing to, is all.

“Max.” Isabel lays a hand on my arm, gently squeezing. “We know you care for Liz. You have for a long time and if it hasn’t faded by now, I don’t think it’s going to. Michael told me about this weekend, and she seems to have feelings for you. Why don’t you at least try? Go out on a date with her. You don’t have to sleep with her or anything.”

Right. “Iz, that all sounds very nice but it’s not very realistic. What Michael won’t have mentioned is that I was this close to sleeping with Liz twice this weekend, and I really don’t know how I managed to stop. I sure as hell wouldn’t trust myself to be able to say no again, and I refuse to put her at risk that way. I can’t just edge over the line between friendship and—whatever. It has to be friends only, or everything. There’s no middle ground for me. Not with her.”

“Okay, okay.” Isabel pushes her hand through her long hair, the blonde strands flipping back out of her face.

“What if you tried it with someone else first, some chick you don’t care about? Like that one you were supposed to go out with last week,” Michael suggests. He’s unconcerned when I stare at him in shock.

“First of all, I’m not about to endanger someone’s life just so I can get laid. That was the whole point of this conversation in the first place. Secondly, I’m not like you, Michael. I can’t drop my pants for the nearest warm body. It has to mean something.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the best idea. Besides, Michael, you should have known Max would be a princess about sex.” Isabel wrinkles her nose at me.

She thinks she’s being cute but I was already on edge and I am not amused. “Just because you’re butch enough to be the king doesn’t make me the fucking princess, Isabel.”

I regret the outburst immediately as her dark eyes shimmer with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

Isabel offers me a little smile. “I shouldn’t have teased you like that. I know you’re having a hard time with it. Michael’s promiscuous enough for all of us, anyway.”

“I’d protest, if it weren’t the truth,” he smirks. “I’m merely enjoying the rides while I still can.”

“How do you mean?” She tilts her head in curiosity.

Michael sighs. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to say no to Maria, either. And once I say yes, that’s it. My wandering days are over.”

“Is she pressuring you?” Isabel’s surprised.

“Nah. She’s just being Maria. We’ve currently got one foot on each side of that friendship line Max was talking about, and damned if I know which direction we’re going in.” He shrugs, trying to pass it off as unimportant.

“Which do you want to go in?” she asks logically.

“Don’t know that either,” he admits.

Silence reigns for a few minutes. Michael won’t meet my eyes. We’re in almost the same situation, but our reasons for hesitating are on opposite ends of the spectrum. “Not quite ready to commit yet, or is it something else?”

He laughs a little. “I won’t deny that the commitment thing’s a bit of an issue, but it’s more, uh.” Guardedly Michael looks over at us. “I couldn’t without telling her. What I am.”

“We already agreed you could tell Maria,” Isabel shakes her head in confusion.

“Yeah, but…”

He’s scared. He’ll never say it, but he is.

Isabel stands up and puts her hands on her hips, glaring at us both. “Oh, for goodness’s sake! You men complicate things so much. Michael, you’re in love with Maria. You know it; we know it; she knows it. She loves you back. Get over it, tell her the truth, and call her your girlfriend already. As for you—”

“But—” Michael tries to protest. She cuts him off and focuses on me.

“As for you, pretty much the same thing applies.”

“It’s not that simple, Iz,” I tell her.

“Why not? You’re not commitment-shy.”

“Because she could die!” I’m on my feet, shouting at her. She takes a step back, shocked at my vehemence. I’m surprised myself, and a tad uncomfortable at how easily my emotions rouse to a fever pitch on the subject of Liz Parker.

“Take it easy, Maxwell. No one has a death wish for Liz, all right? The three of us went to a lot of trouble to save her life in high school. Nothing’s changed that,” Michael says in an oddly soothing tone.

My shoulders slump. “I know. I know, I practiced all summer with my stupid shield, making sure I could conform it to her body and change the color to match her uniform. You worked on your aim so you could shove the bullet out of the way, just in case.”

“And Iz managed to dreamwalk her from the alleyway, because we figured that Liz’s mind might be pliable enough from shock for her to get in with the suggestion for Liz to duck, and we were right. Liz was down on the floor by the time the gun went off, out of danger. It was a team effort, Max.”

“Yeah.” My voice sounds dull to my own ears. It’s like all the energy’s drained out of me with the reminder of that close call.

Isabel gives me a quick hug and gently directs me back into my seat. “I won’t push, Max. You’re obviously not quite ready to move forward into a relationship. Michael, on the other hand…” She winks and gets a weak laugh out of me.

“I don’t know why you’re so convinced that you’re a danger to her. Alter-Max didn’t even sleep with Alter-Liz. She got sick from the healing.”

“And Michael’s been screwing around for more than three years and all his conquests are healthy. Whiny and clingy upon occasion, but healthy,” Isabel comments dryly, to a snort from Michael.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But?” She watches me closely.

I make a helpless gesture. I don’t know how to explain it any way that will make sense. “There are too many variables. Yes, they didn’t have sex but they got pretty close. And what about that whole incident with the orb? Her journal entry even said that she felt like she was changing on a chemical level. I mean fine, so a condom would protect against—fluid contact, but that isn’t really the issue. What if it’s just something about my energy, my healing abilities? Even if I don’t specifically exercise them, how can I be sure that they won’t like, leak out or something?”

“Michael, what?” Isabel prods. He’s got this weird expression and I look at him quizzically.

“I think you can discount whatever happened with the orb. If I recall correctly, Alter-Liz’s hickey started glowing less than twenty-four hours later. It’s been three days since you branded Liz and neither she nor Maria has been beating down the door for explanations.”

Oh, my God. I didn’t even think about that. I could have injured her already. How could I have lost control like that?

Isabel rubs my shoulder, sensing my panic. “Max, she’s fine. And,” she pauses and swallows. “Um, nothing unusual happened for me either, not even—not even without a condom.”

“Isabel!” Michael claps his hands over his ears.

“Oh, grow up. And don’t freak on me, either—I’m on the pill. You know Mark and I were together for almost two years. It was safe.”

“When you’re eighty with great-grandkids, I still want to be blissfully ignorant that you have a sex life,” he groans.

“Don’t you need to have a physical to get a prescription for oral contraceptives?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yeah. I don’t think you want to know what kind of manipulations I did to get a normal gynecological exam, though, brother dear.”

“You have a point,” I concede willingly. “But it was okay? Everything was fine? With Mark, I mean.”

“Everything was wonderful,” she says dreamily. Then she rolls her eyes. “It was unfortunately the rest of our relationship that was the problem. But yeah, Mark was—and still is—perfectly healthy.”

“I just don’t know.” God, I’m so torn. What they’re saying all makes sense but I can’t shake the fear.

“Max. Take things as they come, all right? I know it kind of sounds like we’re trying to get you into bed with someone, but that’s not really the point and you know it. Michael was right, you can’t be alone forever. Or you shouldn’t be, anyway. You said yourself that it’s all or nothing for you so we’re trying to help.”

“Talk to D, maybe. He’s a one-woman guy,” Michael smirks.

“Oh, no. There is no way I’m talking to our father about my sex life or lack thereof.” Michael never did settle into calling our parents, ‘Mom and Dad,’ despite the fact that they became his foster parents while waiting for the adoption papers to go through. One of the first dreams I had, soon after dreaming about the Crashdown shooting, had to do with Hank’s actions towards Michael. And another early one, about how Alter-Max’s parents took the news of their alien origins. Typically the dreams were in some kind of chronological order, but it was like the universe knew the things that I needed to see the most and sent them at the beginning. So I could make sure that Liz wasn’t shot, so I didn’t need to heal her. So that Michael could escape a horrific situation.

So that the three of us could become a real family, with parents who know the truth and love us anyway.

“Well, if you change your mind, please do not repeat any of what I’ve said,” Isabel stresses.

“Credit me with some intelligence, Izzy. I’m not about to tell Dad that his precious little girl isn’t a virgin. Not without at least an ocean between us.” I stick my tongue out at her and she glares.

There’s a knock at the door. Michael and I look at each other, startled. Clearly he’s not expecting anyone, either. Isabel stands and smirks at both of us.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention that I ran into Maria. She finished her exams this morning, and I reminded her that Max’s last one was this afternoon and Michael’s was yesterday, so maybe the four of you should go celebrate tonight. Since Liz has been done for a few days and all.”

“Isabel!” Jinx on both of us as we yell at the same time.

“Yes?” She flutters her eyelashes. “Silly boys. Planning to answer that anytime soon?” Isabel asks pointedly as another knock sounds.

As Michael goes to open the door, I reflect morosely that at least she set us both up. Who needs enemies with siblings like these?
"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
Location: Canada

Chapter 6

Post by Tasyfa »

FROM CHAPTER 5

There’s a knock at the door. Michael and I look at each other, startled. Clearly he’s not expecting anyone, either. Isabel stands and smirks at both of us.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention that I ran into Maria. She finished her exams this morning, and I reminded her that Max’s last one was this afternoon and Michael’s was yesterday, so maybe the four of you should go celebrate tonight. Since Liz has been done for a few days and all.”

“Isabel!” Jinx on both of us as we yell at the same time.

“Yes?” She flutters her eyelashes. “Silly boys. Planning to answer that anytime soon?” Isabel asks pointedly as another knock sounds.

As Michael goes to open the door, I reflect morosely that at least she set us both up. Who needs enemies with siblings like these?


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter Six*****

“You guys ready to go?” Maria asks as she breezes in.

“Go where?” Michael answers with a question. Liz gives me a little apologetic smile. Little does she know that her presence is likely the only reason Maria even bothered to knock before entering. She has a key, after all.

“Out!” Maria spreads her arms wide. “To celebrate!”

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to just drive Isabel home first, then we can go.”

“Oh, well, why don’t you come too, Isabel?” Liz joins in.

“Thanks, but celebration would be premature for me, I’m afraid. I have two more exams to write.” My sister rolls her eyes dramatically. “But you guys have fun. I’m sure I’ll see you later on this week.”

She follows that last comment with a discreet wink at me, and I can’t say or do anything to acknowledge it with Liz looking right at me. Michael and Isabel leave and I mutter under my breath, “One of these days I’m going to kick her ass.” She always has to have the last word.

“What was that, Max?” Maria inquires.

“Nothing.”

She smirks. “I don’t think it would be very smart to take on your sister, Evans. Liz here might just kick your ass if you tried.” With that lofty pronouncement, she flounces off to the bathroom.

I glance at Liz, suppressing a laugh. “Right. I think you’re a tad short for that, Liz. No offense.”

She bristles. “I am not short, Max. I’m petite.”

Oops, hidden landmine. Note to self: Liz is sensitive about her height. I should have guessed that; it’s something we have in common. “Right, petite.” Using a different word doesn’t change the fact that she’s much smaller than me.

Her gaze sharpens in challenge. “You don’t think I can take you.”

Did I miss something here? Is Liz like, the Alien Slayer or something equally ridiculous? “Sorry, no, I don’t.”

Liz gets this speculative look that makes me uneasy. Rightfully so, because in the next minute the breath whooshes out of my body as my backside makes contact with the floor and she plants herself on my stomach, making it difficult to inhale immediately. “Oh, shit. That hurt.”

“Did you change your mind?” she asks cheerfully. Malicious wench.

“Obviously, since I’m horizontal now.”

“That you are.” Her voice is low and it forces my attention to the fact that her knees bracket my ribcage and her hands are braced against my chest.

“Liz…” Oh, God. That was supposed to be a warning. It sounded more like an entreaty. She must think so too because she’s leaning forward, the loose ends of her hair tickling my neck as her face lowers to mine.

At the touch of her lips I’m lost. It’s not a runaway kiss like the one we shared the other night. It’s slow, wet, deep. I can feel her tongue in my mouth, and mine in hers, twining intimately. Unconsciously I grip her thighs, seeking to anchor myself against the sensations that kissing Liz awakens in me.

“I see you got Max down for the count.” Maria’s amused voice floats over us and Liz breaks away, sitting up rapidly.

“He never even knew what hit him,” she replies smugly, and I know she’s not talking about just throwing me to the ground.

What happened to agreeing to just be friends? Man, I thought I was confused before!

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

“Anyone want dessert?”

Groans from the two women answer Michael’s question.

“I take it that’s a no.” He laughs.

“Maybe one of those specialty coffees. Something with Bailey’s in it,” Liz smiles.

“Oh that sounds good,” Maria enthuses. “I really could not eat even ice cream after all that pasta but I do feel like having something sweet.”

There’s an odd note in her voice, and she excuses herself to go to the ladies’ room. A few minutes later, after we order two B-52 coffees and two plain ones, Michael takes off as well, leaving Liz and I sitting alone together, bewildered.

“You don’t think they’re…” Liz trails off meaningfully.

“God, I hope not. Maria deserves better than that for their first time.”

She laughs. “I don’t know, it seemed like it was her idea.”

“I guess.” I shift uncomfortably. “Could we not? I’ve had the unfortunate experience of walking in on Michael before, and I don’t particularly want to lose the amazing dinner I just ate.”

“You don’t have a sock on the door policy or something?” she giggles.

I laugh. “Yeah, we started out with that, but someone kept stealing the socks. That’s how I got an eyeful in the first place—the sock was gone when I came home.”

“So what do you do now?”

“Did you see that ‘Welcome’ sign on the doorknob?”

“Yeah. The painfully cute one that goes with nothing else and looks like your mother bought it at a craft sale? I was going to ask why that was on the inside of the door, actually.”

“Well, Mom did give it to us, and she got it at some church fundraiser so yeah, that’s pretty accurate,” I chuckle. “As for it being on the inside…let’s just say that if it had been on the outside, I wouldn’t have been in the apartment and you wouldn’t have wanted to be, either.”

Her eyes widen and she throws back her head with a full belly laugh. It’s an awesome sight. “So the ‘Welcome’ sign really means, ‘Stay Away.’”

“Exactly.” I join in her laughter.

Man, this feels good. Interacting with Liz like a normal person. Getting to know her. She doesn’t like being called short. She loves a ton of Parmesan cheese on her spaghetti. She’s not too shy to eat in front of a guy, or laugh like she means it. And when she talks about biology, or Maria’s music, her whole face sparkles.

“Um, so, how come you and Maria got this weird look when our waiter introduced himself?” Which just appeared again when he delivered our coffees.

Liz uses the straw to scoop some of the whipped cream on her B-52 coffee into her mouth. She shrugs. “Maria didn’t tell you about my last boyfriend?”

My gut clenches. “Only that it ended badly. She was pretty pissed off. His name was Gordon?”

“Gord, yeah.” She’s quiet for a long moment. “‘Badly’ is a bit of an understatement.”

“What happened, Liz?”

Her gaze flickers to mine, sensing my concern, and then she stares back down at her coffee. Mechanically she stirs it, the whipped cream dissolving slowly into the hot liquid. “We had gotten close really quickly, much faster than I was used to. It was a little scary but also exhilarating, you know? And my intuition about people is usually damned good.” She makes a faint, bitter sound. “Not this time. I was…blinded or something. Anyway, one night we were fooling around and I ended up sitting on top of him. Sort of like I was with you earlier but without all the clothing.”

There’s deeply buried pain leaking into her voice and I want to hold her and take it away. Instead, I listen like a friend while she continues, her words dimming to a whisper. “I had a—a condom package in my hand and when I ripped it open, he started to laugh. He said that he…he didn’t actually want to stoop to sleeping with geeks, but he’d get points in his favor that I was willing to spread my legs for him. It was an initiation thing, for one of the fraternities. God, he completely played me and I thought I was in love with him.”

“Liz,” I murmur, feeling her anguish. Instinctively I slip an arm around her and draw her close. She leans her head on my shoulder. She’s only kind of teary, not crying, but clearly upset by the memory of what that asshole did to her last year. She should be upset. Actually, she should be furious. I am—I’m nearly shaking with it. How could someone do that to another person? And aside from the massive character flaws behavior like that reveals, was he crazy? How could any sane man not want Liz?

Except…I said no. A few days ago, Liz and I were in a not too dissimilar position and I said no. Oh, my God. I’m surprised she’s still talking to me, let alone allowing me to comfort her.

“It’s not the same at all,” she sniffles.

“What?”

“What happened on the weekend, between us. It’s not the same, Max. You’re trying to look out for me, not destroy me.” Is she reading my mind?

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts. You have a perfectly valid reason for not wanting to get involved, and it’s not petty or hurtful or anything like that. It’s okay, really.” I can hear a bit of a smile in her voice now. Relief swamps me, because I sense that she’s telling the truth. More precisely, that she understands the truth—that I would never do anything like that to her, that my reasons might be frustrating as hell for both of us but my intentions are good.

She sighs and scrubs at her face, pulling away. “What you must think of me.”

Gently I capture her chin, tilting her head up to meet my eyes. “Hey, now. What I think is that you’re a person who follows her heart, and I admire that about you. The only problem is that the human heart is fallible. Sometimes you’re going to make mistakes, and you’re going to get hurt. That doesn’t mean you need to apologize for who you are. I like who you are, Liz Parker.”

“Thank you.” Her smile warms places inside me I didn’t even know were cold. “I’m sorry, Max.”

Speaking of frustrating, that has to be the feminie trait that irritates me the most. How do women keep the conversation topic straight when they keep changing it in the middle? And losing me in the process? “Sorry for what? It’s not your fault Gord’s an asshole.”

“No, I mean, I shouldn’t have kissed you. Earlier, at your place.”

“That’s all right. You were just evening up the score. One assault per person,” I joke lamely. Covering up the fact that with her brilliant smile and her big, wet eyes, I’m fighting the urge to push her flat on the booth seat and have my way with her. Except that I don’t have a way, at least not that I know of.

She giggles and lightly punches my shoulder. We both look up as Michael and Maria slide back into their seats. Michael is a little keyed up and kind of squirmy, and abruptly I know that while they definitely got somewhere, it wasn’t all the way. I’m more than familiar with the phenomenon of shifting in my seat because my pants are tighter than they used to be in important places.

“What’d I miss?” Maria asks brightly.

Liz and I exchange a quick glance. “Well, Max wanted to know what we had against the name Gordon, so I told him.”

Maria’s eyebrows raise in surprise and she turns her head to regard me. Nothing actually comes out of her mouth, but I can hear the prompt, ‘And?’

“And Gord is fucking lucky he doesn’t go to my school.” The words are a near growl. Maria gets this satisfied little smile and I smile back. I think she’s happy that Liz told me. It occurs to me that maybe part of what Liz needed to truly put that incident behind her was some kind of affirmation that it wasn’t her fault, from a neutral bystander—from another man. I’m not entirely neutral but I don’t know Gord from Adam, and frankly it wouldn’t matter who he’d pulled this stunt on, I would be pissed off on her behalf. That’s no way to treat another human being.

That thought makes me pause. One of the many ways in which the Liz sitting beside me here is completely different than the Alter-Liz that I remember from my dreams, is that she’s much more trusting. She naturally believes in the basic goodness of people. And yeah, it got her heart broken, and I’m sure she’ll get disappointed more than once during her life by just how cruel others can be, but on the whole I think it’s an excellent way to live. Liz didn’t have to learn at an early age the depths to which people can and will sink when they feel threatened, or when they’re just plain psychotic like Agent Pierce. She hasn’t had to run for her life. Admittedly, she did take up judo after nearly getting shot in the Crashdown and is currently working on obtaining her black belt, but that was a choice, not a necessity, and she’s kept it up all these years because she discovered that she loves it. She’s never had to use it to fight for her survival, just to knock down idiots like me.

I don’t want her to learn those things. I don’t want there to ever be a need for her to lose the wonderful innocence that shades her perception of the world. Is there a way to tell her all that I know—all that I’ve done—without changing her forever?

I smile perfunctorily and join in the conversation around me, but my mind is a million miles away, combing over the discussion the three of us had this afternoon. I have a lot of thinking to do; I need to figure out what I want to do and fast. We all go back to Roswell for the holidays in less than a week and if things between Liz and I aren’t settled before then, something tells me that I’ll have missed my last chance.
"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
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
Location: Canada

Chapter 7

Post by Tasyfa »

Hi Laura! Nice to see ya.:)

I'm posting a day early b/c a) I'm ready LOL and b) I plan to be glued to the finale of DC tomorrow night. Haven't watched it regularly for a while but I used to love it, so I MUST see how it ends!:lol

Also, an early HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my bud, behrfanny:D
hugs, Tas


FROM CHAPTER 6

Maria’s eyebrows raise in surprise and she turns her head to regard me. Nothing actually comes out of her mouth, but I can hear the prompt, ‘And?’

“And Gord is fucking lucky he doesn’t go to my school.” The words are a near growl. Maria gets this satisfied little smile and I smile back. I think she’s happy that Liz told me. It occurs to me that maybe part of what Liz needed to truly put that incident behind her was some kind of affirmation that it wasn’t her fault, from a neutral bystander—from another man. I’m not entirely neutral but I don’t know Gord from Adam, and frankly it wouldn’t matter who he’d pulled this stunt on, I would be pissed off on her behalf. That’s no way to treat another human being.

That thought makes me pause. One of the many ways in which the Liz sitting beside me here is completely different than the Alter-Liz that I remember from my dreams, is that she’s much more trusting. She naturally believes in the basic goodness of people. And yeah, it got her heart broken, and I’m sure she’ll get disappointed more than once during her life by just how cruel others can be, but on the whole I think it’s an excellent way to live. Liz didn’t have to learn at an early age the depths to which people can and will sink when they feel threatened, or when they’re just plain psychotic like Agent Pierce. She hasn’t had to run for her life. Admittedly, she did take up judo after nearly getting shot in the Crashdown and is currently working on obtaining her black belt, but that was a choice, not a necessity, and she’s kept it up all these years because she discovered that she loves it. She’s never had to use it to fight for her survival, just to knock down idiots like me.

I don’t want her to learn those things. I don’t want there to ever be a need for her to lose the wonderful innocence that shades her perception of the world. Is there a way to tell her all that I know—all that I’ve done—without changing her forever?

I smile perfunctorily and join in the conversation around me, but my mind is a million miles away, combing over the discussion the three of us had this afternoon. I have a lot of thinking to do; I need to figure out what I want to do and fast. We all go back to Roswell for the holidays in less than a week and if things between Liz and I aren’t settled before then, something tells me that I’ll have missed my last chance.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter 7*****

“Yes, Mom, the cookies were great. Thanks for sending them. And Izzy did get some. In fact, she was sporting a chocolate smile when I came home from writing my last exam.”

I smile when she laughs. More than anything else, the sound of my mother’s laughter says ‘home’ to me. Although the smell of food cooking has got to be a close second. Like a big turkey dinner for Christmas…mmm. I tuck the cordless phone against my shoulder while I rummage through the fridge. It’s a good thing I don’t talk to Mom every day or I’d eat myself into being the size of the couch from free association. Wouldn’t that make a great study for the psych students?

“Right, we’re leaving Tuesday morning. Isabel’s Mechanical Engineering exam is Monday afternoon. I’ll make sure everyone has their cell phones charged and we have lots of gas.”

My grandmother gave me the best advice I’ve ever gotten a few years ago. She said, “What does it hurt to smile and nod, Max? Your mother loves you and she’s a natural worrier. You don’t need to let it interrupt your life, though. Listen to what she says, agree with her, and then go and do your own thing. She feels validated, you don’t feel like a heel, and everyone’s happy.” It totally works. It’s not that I don’t listen to my mother, but honestly she can run on and on about the stupidest little things and she worries about everything. Grandma’s suggestion has averted quite a few upsets, which I love. I hate fighting with Mom. Not quite as much as Isabel does, but I’m uncomfortable when she’s pissed off at me.

“Okay. Hey, is Dad around? Can you put him on?”

I finish off my sandwich while my father’s picking up the extension in his study. “All right, son. What is such a big deal that you didn’t want your mother overhearing my end of the conversation?”

God, I can’t believe that I’m actually taking Michael’s offhanded suggestion and talking to Dad about this. “Um, it’s kind of about girls.”

“Oh.” I hear a clinking. Damn, I’ve gotten one sentence out and he’s already pouring the brandy. “What about them, Max?”

“Well, it’s just one girl, really. I have feelings for her and I think she might have some back, but…” Just spit it out, Evans. My stomach is turning massive somersaults but I plunge ahead. “I’m scared shitless that if we have sex it’ll kill her.”

There’s a choking sound and a long silence. Dad’s a little hoarse when he asks, “Would this have anything to do with the Parkers’ daughter visiting Maria?”

“Am I that transparent?” I speak the words aloud in my shock and he chuckles.

“Max, we know you’ve had a crush on her for a long time. And normally I wouldn’t exactly be jumping for joy to give my kids advice on how to get someone into bed, but I know you. You wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important, and I know you’ll be responsible about it.” He sighs. “Plus, you’re almost twenty-two, and I don’t want to see you spend your life alone, son. You deserve more than that.”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael said.”

“Michael said that? He must be getting sensitive in his old age. Or maybe it’s all the time you two spend with Maria.”

“Maybe. Maria’s got him up against the wall now, though.” Oh, that was an unfortunate choice of words.

“I didn’t really need that mental picture, Max.”

I laugh. “Me neither, but I’m getting it almost daily and the worst part is that it’s not all in my head anymore.”

“Making progress, is she? That girl’s got balls.” His admiration shines through. “Of course, that’s why you’re all so close in the first place, because she searched you out the first week of college and lit into you about what happened with Liz.”

“Best lecture of my life, at least in retrospect.” Huh. I wonder if the threat to cause me serious bodily injury if I hurt another girl like that is still in effect? It kind of has a little more weight behind it now that I know Liz can throw me to the ground. Man, I have to quit thinking about that. For her to look so fragile without actually being fragile is such a turn-on.

“I take it that you worked that issue out?”

What, that Liz can hold her own? Oh. “The disaster otherwise known as our first date? Yeah, we covered it. Along with the impossibility of romantic involvement due to my ‘genetic anomaly.’ It—well, we agreed to keep it as friends after I told Maria and Maria told Liz, but things keep happening and I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

“I see.” Wisely, he doesn’t ask what kind of things. “What about telling her the truth, have you considered that?”

“I have.” I sigh in frustration. “I mean I am. I will, if…”

“If you can be sure that she won’t be harmed by being with you,” he finishes my sentence.

“Right.”

“Okay, so let’s logic our way through this.” And that is why I am humiliating myself by bringing this up in the first place. No one can logic through things like my father. “I’m going to guess that nothing untoward has happened to any of Michael’s friends?”

“Michael’s friends?” He has other friends that Dad knows about and I don’t?

“Max, I am aware that Michael had a private celebration the week before his eighteenth birthday just so that certain activities would still be technically illegal. So far as I know, he’s still ‘celebrating,’” Dad says dryly.

Those friends. “Um, no, nothing unusual has happened in the celebration department.”

“Clearly intercourse isn’t the problem, then. I didn’t think it was. And it’s not the healing, or—”

“I was thinking maybe the orb,” I interrupt. Then I process what he just said. “Wait, why not the healing? That’s what Alter-Max thought made her sick in his universe.”

“No, it can’t be the healing, the orb, or lovemaking, Max. Future Liz experienced all those things and she was healthy. It was the war that would have killed her, not any changes in her body.” He sounds totally convincing.

“Future Liz…” I didn’t even think of that. I have enough trouble keeping my life and Alter-Max’s life separated sometimes; I usually try not to muddy the already opaque waters with a third me.

“How long have you been thinking about this, Max? Seriously thinking about it, I mean. I’m sure it’s been at the back of your mind for a long time.”

“Since Saturday, I guess.” Since I looked up and found an angel in my doorway.

Dad chuckles ruefully. “Ah, biology be damned. You’re definitely my son.”

“What makes you say that?” I’m sure he can hear my smile.

“I was sixteen the first time I laid eyes on your mother, and there’s never been anyone else for me. Oh I dated, much like you do—superficial companionship. Michael’s dates might end up more physically intimate than either yours or mine did, but it’s the same kind of casual behavior. I’m certain that you both choose girls who know that it won’t go any farther; otherwise, I might have taken Michael to task for his conduct long ago.”

“What? I don’t sleep with girls!” How can he say that Michael and I are doing the same thing?

He chokes back a laugh. “Are we supposed to be having a different conversation here, son?”

I’m very glad we’re talking on the phone and not in person, because I can feel my face heat and I know I’m turning red. “Ah, no. I don’t swing the other way. I meant that I don’t sleep around like Michael does. I don’t—I haven’t…” No clue how to say that I hadn’t even been kissed until last weekend. Nor am I sure that we need to have that level of detail here. This is embarrassing enough as it is, thank you.

“I’m just teasing, Max. I know you’re not gay. I also know that this hasn’t really come up before because Liz hasn’t been part of your life for a while.”

“Does everyone know I’m in love with Liz?” In my frustration I say it out loud and wince when Dad lets loose and laughs.

“Well, apparently Liz doesn’t, but the rest of us who love you: yes. You’re just like me in that department, Max. Do you remember how I got your mother to go out with me finally?”

“Yeah, I do.” I thought it was wildly romantic when I was a kid. They hung around with the same crowd in high school so they were friends, but not close, and Dad didn’t have the guts to push it farther. Partially because Mom was two grades behind him, so when they first met she was too young to date much. But around his graduation time, he went to her house and gave her a record album—Ricky Nelson. And on the back, he circled the song, ‘I Need You’ and wrote beside it, ‘Diane, this is how I feel about you.’ Okay, I still think it’s, well, dreamy. (Cringe.) “Guess nurture wins the debate as far as romantic idiot tendencies go, huh?”

“I’d say so,” he laughs again.

I sigh and stretch out on the couch, rubbing the bridge of my nose. This situation is giving me a headache. “So we know what didn’t make Alter-Liz sick, but we still don’t know what did, or whether Liz here would be safe with me. Isabel said I should try just dating her and taking it slow, but I don’t think I can.”

“That does sound reasonable, Max. You’ve always been good at controlling yourself; I don’t see why that would be so difficult.”

“Maybe if she didn’t keep taking her clothes off,” I mutter under my breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Never mind. You didn’t want to. See, here’s the thing.” I debate how to phrase it. “Liz’s last relationship ended badly. I didn’t know how badly until last night. We all went out for dinner and the waiter had the same name as her ex-boyfriend, so it sort of came tumbling out. Anyway, the point is that the way it happened kind of left her feeling, um, less than secure in her desirability, shall we say.” There’s that note in my voice again.

“You sound upset,” he observes. Entirely too accurately.

“It’s a good thing he’s on the other side of the country, or this might be my one phone call to my lawyer,” I admit.

“That bad?” He doesn’t sound pleased either, and that makes me feel better about the way my hackles rise every time I think about what Liz told me. Of course he wouldn’t be pleased. My father is one of those truly nice people that are all too rare in this world, and he wouldn’t like the idea of anyone being hurt like that. Especially someone as sweet as Liz. In the same vein, it’s why Dad never did say anything about mine or Michael’s dating habits, because he’s right: we operate on different levels, but by the same rules—no emotional involvement. And we don’t date anyone who doesn’t know and accept that beforehand. What that Gord guy did is totally reprehensible.

“Yeah. And I don’t know if it’s because she’s interested and she wants me to say yes, or if she’s so sure that I’ll say no regardless of what she does, but Liz is kind of coming on strong. Even after we agreed to just friends because of my so-called anomaly, but before that, it was worse. Not worse,” I correct myself. “Harder. I have lots of experience saying no, but not—not when I didn’t really want to.”

“Oy. You certainly do get yourself into some complicated situations, Max.”

“Tell me about it.”

“The first order of business is to figure out what affected Alter-Liz’s health. While I’m sure it wasn’t sex, I would advise you to keep your pants on, Max. Liz’s emotional state is clearly a little delicate right now and she doesn’t need you confusing her any further,” he says sternly.

“I’m with you. Lack of pants, bad,” I agree, somewhat too quickly because Dad coughs. He doesn’t ask, though, thank God. “Would it be okay to compliment her? Let her know that I think she’s attractive without getting like, closer?”

“Do you compliment Maria?”

“Sure, all the time. Well, sometimes I shoot down her fashion choices, but yeah, I tell her if she looks nice. Why?”

“I’d let your usual behavior with Maria inform how you interact with Liz. Treat her like the same kind of friend. I know you feel more, but for now, keep your distance, all right?”

“Yeah.” Everything he’s said has made sense. Who knew Michael would have a good idea in me talking to Dad?

“Your mother said that you three are coming home Tuesday morning, right? When are Liz and Maria leaving?”

“Uh, Ms. DeLuca’s coming up Sunday afternoon. I don’t know if they’re going to head straight back or if they’ll go in the morning, though.”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Pretty tight deadline then. Your notebooks are still here?”

“They’re in my desk,” I confirm. “About the notebooks, Dad—”

“I know, don’t touch the red one or the blue one. Black covers only,” he parrots exasperatedly.

I have to smile. I guess I do seem that paranoid; the red book contains my notes on the more explicit dreams of Alter-Liz and Alter-Max. No one else has seen that one, and no one will, either. “I was going to say that maybe you should read the blue one. It’s not pretty, but…it’s about his time with Tess. There might be something in there.”

“There might be at that.” Now his voice has that angry, protective tone that I had earlier. “I’ll look through it, too. Do you remember anything that—”

“I don’t want to talk about Tess,” I interrupt.

“Max.”

The conversation was going so well, too. “No. I’ll go over what I remember, on my own later. I don’t want to talk about it now. Michael’s going to be home soon and then we’re supposed to pick up the girls and go to the movies tonight.” I know I sound stubborn. I am stubborn on this point. I don’t like to think about what happened with Tess in anybody’s universe.

“All right, all right.” Gracefully he backs down. “I will have something for you by the weekend, son. What do you want me to tell your mother?”

“About what?”

He laughs. “About why I’m closeted in my study so she can’t listen in.”

“Right. Just tell her an edited version of the truth, that I have girl problems. She’ll figure it out eventually.” Not much gets past Mom. Probably half of Dad’s insights about my feelings towards Liz, Mom noticed first.

“True enough. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. It’s not the most comfortable topic in the world, but I appreciate your help. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Max. Have a good time at the movies.”

I’m left alone with the pounding in my temples. The mere mention of that blonde bitch is enough to make my head ache even more. I am going to ignore the entire thing tonight and have fun with my three friends. Tomorrow is soon enough to delve into the darkness.
"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

Chapter 8

Post by Tasyfa »

Sigh. Sorry, guys. I'm not going to bitch and moan about the wedding I had to attend yesterday or how it pretty much blew my weekend, timewise. :roll: I'm just going to post the new chapter. :)
hugs, Tas

FROM Chapter 7

“All right, all right.” Gracefully he backs down. “I will have something for you by the weekend, son. What do you want me to tell your mother?”

“About what?”

He laughs. “About why I’m closeted in my study so she can’t listen in.”

“Right. Just tell her an edited version of the truth, that I have girl problems. She’ll figure it out eventually.” Not much gets past Mom. Probably half of Dad’s insights about my feelings towards Liz, Mom noticed first.

“True enough. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. It’s not the most comfortable topic in the world, but I appreciate your help. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Max. Have a good time at the movies.”

I’m left alone with the pounding in my temples. The mere mention of that blonde bitch is enough to make my head ache even more. I am going to ignore the entire thing tonight and have fun with my three friends. Tomorrow is soon enough to delve into the darkness.



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter 8*****

We spill into the café as a group, laughing about the movie.

“How could Halle Berry agree to wear that?” Maria gasps in mock horror.

“I doubt they showed her the wardrobe before she signed the contract, Maria,” Liz giggles. “She was probably more concerned with the script.”

She sighs exaggeratedly. “True. Plus she already knew she’d be in head-to-toe spandex, so it probably didn’t even faze her.”

“Right. I hope that for X-Men 4, they do the Dark Phoenix story. It’s such an interesting one,” Liz enthuses. She wrinkles her nose when Michael looks surprised. “What?”

“Nothing,” he denies. “I happened to like Storm’s little outfit. Think it would look good on either of you?” He winks at Maria’s spluttering.

“What about you, Max?” Maria demands.

I grin. “You’ll get no fashion comments out of me, Mare. Except that I liked the cloak Magneto wore to that party; it was very Evil Dude Cool.”

She rolls her eyes and the rest of us laugh as we grab a booth and slide in. I’m not blind to the fact that we look for all the world like two couples on a double date: one guy and one girl on either side of the table. It wasn’t planned that way or anything; I’m unconsciously gravitating towards Liz, and it seems Michael’s doing the same with Maria. God, I hope Dad finds something! I squelch that thought instantly. We’re friends tonight; that’s all.

I drink some of my chocolate milkshake, absently chewing on the straw, and grimace when the frozen treat aggravates the pain in my head.

“Does it taste funny, Max?” Maria wants to know.

“It’s fine. I just have a little headache.”

“Brain freeze?” Michael smirks, and I shrug. I’ve had that before, when you have something so cold it shocks your system, but not this time.

“Nah, it’s been coming and going all day. No biggie.”

“Turn around,” Liz tells me, motioning with her hand to indicate that she means for me to face away from her.

“Why?”

“Don’t you trust me?” she teases.

“Sure. Provided I have assurance ahead of time that I’m not going to end up on the floor,” I shoot back. She laughs.

“Only if you fall asleep. Now, turn around.”

I do, moving closer to the edge of the booth so that my feet don’t stick straight out and endanger the passing waitstaff. Her hand on my arm urges me to lean towards the table so I do that too, completely baffled.

Once there is enough room, a slim, denim-clad leg slides between the back of the booth and my waist, curling into my lap. My mouth drops open a little in surprise. Idly I notice that the white treads of Liz’s tennis shoes are extremely clean. Before I can say anything or really react, I feel the soft globes of her breasts pressed against my back. Her hands are in my hair, over my temples, rubbing gently. “Oh, that’s nice.”

“Guaranteed to take the pain away.” I can hear her smile.

“Uh-huh.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Maria grinning. I turn my head slightly to look at her. “What?”

“I am waiting for you to start purring,” she giggles.

The others laugh and I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about funny, but it’s damned cute.” Maria winks.

I’m tempted to do the mature thing and stick my tongue out at her, but I don’t. I’d never live it down. There would be comments about kittens and licking and I do not need to provide that kind of ammunition to my friends.

Instead, I decide to tease Liz. She was the one who mentioned her actions might be soporific. I let my eyelids droop and slowly lean back, keeping a tight anchor with my feet against the wooden booth so I don’t accidentally crush her.

It takes a few minutes, but finally I’m sure she’s noticed my changing position when she stops rubbing and says uncertainly, “Uh, Max?”

If I could do a believable fake snore, I would. Unfortunately, my mother informed me when I was eighteen that my fake snoring sounds really damn fake. So I murmur something incoherent and keep leaning.

I’m at almost a forty-five degree angle to the booth when Liz starts to push up on my shoulders in earnest. “Max! Wake up!”

I hear Maria giggle, and the deeper sound of Michael’s laughter when I twist to partially face Liz and drawl, “But I thought it was supposed to make me sleepy.”

Liz rolls her eyes and laughs. “Jerk. Sit up.”

I pull myself upright as our waitress brings our food. There’s a little voice exclaiming gleefully that we were nearly horizontal with her leg wrapped around my waist. It’s not paying attention to my protests that my back was facing her front and no one removed any clothing. Nothing’s going to happen in that position. But you could’ve turned over, it whispers.

I ignore it and grin. “I’m hungry after my ‘nap.’” Liz elbows me. We all laugh then start to eat.

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

Michael and Maria have outpaced us, walking a couple of blocks ahead. Occasionally one of them raises their voice enough for Liz and I to hear it.

“Do they ever stop fighting?”

“Not really.” I smile at her. “I think they both enjoy it too much.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Do you think he’ll ever give in?”

“Hell, yes. It’s just a matter of time, Liz.” I have the odd feeling that she’s not necessarily talking about our best friends, so I add, “I fully expect one of those spectacular fights to end in Michael’s bedroom one day. Heaven help me after that!”

She laughs, nodding, and a comfortable silence ensues.

“He loves her, you know,” I blurt out suddenly. Now I’m not sure which ‘he’ I’m talking about.

Liz glances at me from under a fringe of dark lashes. “She feels the same.”

I swallow. Who are we talking about again? “Yeah, I kind of thought so, but it’s hard to tell sometimes. Women are such a mystery.”

That statement has her giggling. “Do you think I’m mysterious?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I feel like I know you and yet, at the same time I think it would take a lifetime to truly know you. But I can’t say that to her, or that the concept of taking that time appeals to me, so I finish my remark with, “But mysterious in a good way.”

“In a good way? What do you mean?” She stops walking and turns to face me, her head tilted in curiosity.

I fumble for the words. “You’re just being you. You’re not trying to be someone else, or play games. You’re just—natural.” I don’t know that my explanation makes any sense but Liz’s smile glows. I can’t help but return it.

“Max, can I say something without you taking it the wrong way?”

What’s the wrong way? She’s not going to tell me I’m a great friend, is she? Even I know that’s the kiss of death. “Um, sure. Shoot.”

“I am myself around you. It’s—the way you treat me, the way you look at me when we talk…it makes me feel beautiful. It’s nice. I’m comfortable being just me. I don’t feel as though you expect or want me to be someone else, which is—unusual, shall we say.” Her mouth twists a little at the last sentence, and I know she’s thinking of what happened with Gord, and more generally, how she’s been labeled as a geek.

“Liz, I would be disappointed if you tried to be someone else around me. I like you. I like who you are. I believe I’ve said that before.” I smile. “I’m not threatened by intelligent women. My mother and/or my sister would have beaten that fear out of me years ago if I’d been inclined to be.”

A startled laugh escapes her, exactly as I intended. She shakes her head a little, as if she’s having her own internal dialogue, then links her arm through mine and we begin walking again. “You are an interesting man, Max Evans. I’m glad that I came to visit Maria.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

As we continue to talk, I am praying that there will be a message on my answering machine from my father when I get home. Because my need to know—to get closer to Liz—is growing by the second.
"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

Chapter 9

Post by Tasyfa »

Go me, I'm back on schedule! :D
hugs, Tas

FROM Chapter 8

“Max, can I say something without you taking it the wrong way?”

What’s the wrong way? She’s not going to tell me I’m a great friend, is she? Even I know that’s the kiss of death. “Um, sure. Shoot.”

“I am myself around you. It’s—the way you treat me, the way you look at me when we talk…it makes me feel beautiful. It’s nice. I’m comfortable being just me. I don’t feel as though you expect or want me to be someone else, which is—unusual, shall we say.” Her mouth twists a little at the last sentence, and I know she’s thinking of what happened with Gord, and more generally, how she’s been labeled as a geek.

“Liz, I would be disappointed if you tried to be someone else around me. I like you. I like who you are. I believe I’ve said that before.” I smile. “I’m not threatened by intelligent women. My mother and/or my sister would have beaten that fear out of me years ago if I’d been inclined to be.”

A startled laugh escapes her, exactly as I intended. She shakes her head a little, as if she’s having her own internal dialogue, then links her arm through mine and we begin walking again. “You are an interesting man, Max Evans. I’m glad that I came to visit Maria.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

As we continue to talk, I am praying that there will be a message on my answering machine from my father when I get home. Because my need to know—to get closer to Liz—is growing by the second.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
*****NEW Chapter 9*****

I can’t believe how many varieties there are. How do people choose one type?

“Sorry,” a female voice mumbles as someone bumps into me from behind. I know that voice.

“Christine! Hi!” That sounded a little higher than usual.

“Oh, hi, Max.” She looks at the wall of product with a speculative smile. “Your turn to run errands for you and Michael?”

I seize at the excuse. “Something like that, yeah. He gave me precise instructions on what kind of hair gel to buy, but nothing more specific on this subject than, ‘Get condoms.’”

She laughs. Suddenly I remember why we didn’t go out. “How’s your mom?”

“Good, she’s good, thanks. She lost some vision in one eye, but she’s otherwise fine. She’s still able to drive and everything.”

“That’s great news,” I tell her sincerely.

“Thanks for the flowers. That was very sweet of you.”

“No problem.” I shrug awkwardly. “So, um, since Michael obviously isn’t picky, what’s good as far as the woman’s point of view is concerned?”

Christine shakes her head, laughing. She scans the rows of boxes, clearly looking for something specific, and deposits one in my hand. “Cassie swears by these.”

“Cassie?” The name sounds familiar, plus she’s looking at me like I should know who she means.

“Cassie Templeton, my roommate. She has a garage band, Savage Youth. She and Michael, uh, dated briefly a couple of years ago. I believe you’ve met her.” Christine compresses her lips in an attempt to suppress laughter at the rueful recognition that must show in my expression.

I scratch behind my ear. “Yeah, I remember her.” Cassie is the reason that Michael and I started using the ‘Welcome’ sign to mean ‘Stay out.’ Until Liz stripped last weekend, that was the most naked female flesh I’d ever seen. Thank God Cassie was on top, because I might have emptied my stomach if I’d seen Michael’s bare ass.

“I’m sure you do.” Christine starts giggling and I have to laugh, too. It’s a sublimely ridiculous situation; you can’t help but laugh at it. But as we’re standing there chatting about the vagaries of college roommates, I recall that this is why I asked her out in the first place. Because she’s such a warm person, with a lovely smile, and there is something completely genuine about her.

She reminds me of Liz Parker.

Why didn’t I see it before? Not only Christine, but every woman I’ve dated has reminded me in some fashion of Liz. Lustrous dark hair. Pouty lips. Science majors. Something. Now that I think about it, the very first woman I asked out in college had on a dress similar to the one Liz wore on our disastrous date in high school. All this time, the reason I’ve never given anyone a second chance is because none of them were Liz.

On some level, I’ve known that. I knew that I was using some invisible yardstick and no one measured up. But I couldn’t let myself acknowledge the reasons why. Not when I believed that Liz hated me, regardless of whatever hints Maria dropped. It wasn’t until I saw her again that I could allow myself the freedom to hope.

I did, however, make a commitment for an evening with Christine, and I keep my promises. “When are you going home for the holidays? Or are you?”

“My last exam was Thursday—yesterday, but I’m not leaving till Sunday afternoon. I intend to party tonight!”

I smile at her enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Listen, the next thing on my shopping list here is deodorant. If you come with me to that aisle and choose one, I can guarantee that I’ll smell good when I pick you up, if you’d still like to go out. Tonight or tomorrow; your choice. I’m here till Monday myself.”

“That has to be the most original pick-up line I’ve ever heard,” she laughs.

“You like? Probably the worst-planned one, too. This wouldn’t exactly have been my ideal location to meet up with you.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.” Christine smiles and lays a hand on my arm. Her expression grows a bit more serious. “I’m kind of wondering what your girlfriend might have to say about it, though.”

“My who?”

“Girlfriend. Short brunette from Harvard?”

“She doesn’t like being called short.” Good God, did that really exit my mouth? “But she’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. She’s staying with Maria.”

“Uh-huh.” I don’t think she’s buying it. “So, you’ve been out with her twice this week and she stayed at your place all weekend because she’s just a friend.”

“Right.” I wince inwardly as soon as I confirm that supposition, because hearing it spoken aloud by someone else points out how utterly ludicrous it is, especially when I know what really happened. But the flutter of panic in my midsection keeps me protesting. “Maria’s roommate’s boyfriend came down for the weekend and she usually stays over when that happens, for the same reason that I’m familiar with Cassie. Since Liz was staying with Maria, they both needed somewhere to crash. That’s all.” Shit, I’m starting to babble now, but I can’t seem to shut up. “And of course I’m spending time with her. I mean we’re spending time with her. Because we spend time with Maria, and she’s with Maria. Not with with, but…” I trail off at Christine’s rampant amusement. “Anyway, I—we all went to high school together. Michael and I didn’t really hang out with Maria until after we got here, though.”

“I see.”

How does she know all this stuff anyway? “Do you know Liz?” Could I sound more confused?

“No, sweetie, I don’t know her. I saw you together at the CocoaBerry last night. And listened to Cassie bitch about how cozy the four of you were at her favorite Italian restaurant earlier in the week. I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions.” She pauses and looks up at me. “But I don’t think I did, really, did I?”

“Uh…”

“Come on. I’ll help you find something that smells nice.” Christine links arms with me and drags me into the next aisle, where she starts sniffing bottles of men’s deodorant.

I am so lost. I’ve gone from being embarrassed in front of a pretty girl, to flirting, to being treated like her little brother. What the hell?

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

Thin and ribbed for the ultimate feeling. Active ingredient: Nonoxynol-9 in a lubricant base. Reservoir end for greater comfort. Whose comfort? His or hers? And are we talking physical comfort, or merely mental because the reservoir thingy means it’s less likely to break?

No method of contraception can provide one hundred percent protection against pregnancy or the transmission of HIV or sexually transmitted diseases.

I know all this. Just because I’ve never used the damn things doesn’t mean I don’t know how, or why they should be used. So why exactly am I sitting in the darkened apartment, scowling at this little box?

Right, because I shouldn’t have it. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this, considering the vague possibilities.

Shouldn’t be thinking about her at all.

A light flicks on as Michael comes in and hastily I shove the box of condoms out of sight between my leg and the back of the couch, where I’m half reclining.

“Jesus, Max, did you turn into a cat while I was gone?” he complains.

“No. I am officially pathetic, however.”

Michael finishes removing his coat and shoes then vaults over the couch back, shaking the old piece of furniture when he lands. “How is this news?”

“Funny.”

“I’ll take a wild guess and say you haven’t heard from D yet.”

“Right. And Friday is date night, so I won’t be talking to Dad tonight, either.”

He shakes his head. “Something wrong with that picture.”

“What?”

“M and D are out on a date and you and I are sitting at home.”

“Yeah.” A sigh escapes me. “Looks like my dating days are over, anyway.”

“How so?” Michael shifts into a comfortable slouch. The slight change in position is about all the signal he’ll give that he’s interested in the conversation. Maybe he is worried about being with Maria, more than he’s let on.

“I ran into Christine today.”

“You ask if she wanted to reschedule?” he inquires neutrally.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t date guys who have girlfriends.”

“Come again? Who has a girlfriend?”

“Apparently I do, according to campus wisdom. A ‘short brunette from Harvard.’ Sound like anyone we know?” I can’t help the bitterness creeping into my voice. That’s the role I want Liz to play in my life, but I didn’t expect to have it all chosen for me, without getting any say in the matter.

Of course, like I figured out this afternoon, I never really had a choice in the first place. I don’t know why I’m getting so bent out of shape over it.

Right, because I also don’t know if it’s safe for her to be—anything to me.

“Huh. Yeah, stick a fork in you. You’re done if you’ve been labeled as ‘taken.’”

“Thanks for the confirmation,” I say acidly.

He laughs. “No problem.”

My next comment sounds more than a little forlorn. “What am I going to do?”

“Aside from sulking in the dark, you mean?” My answering glare doesn’t faze him at all. “God help us all when you’re brooding. Look, any idiot can see how you feel about Liz. And I know your dick’s connected to your heart, so how about going after what you want?”

Could he be any cruder? “It’s not really that obvious.” Is it?

“You’re joking. If the two of you were any more obvious, you’d be screwing your brains out or exchanging rings right in front of me.”

Yes, he can, and I should have known that. “Michael.”

“I call it like I see it, Maxwell.”

“Fine. The problem with your scenario is that what I want might be unsafe for someone I care about.”

He groans in exasperation. “Are you on about that still? I thought D set you straight. And he didn’t even know about our fair sister.”

“It could be different with Isabel; she’s female. And you’ve never had unprotected sex, so we don’t know. We just don’t know enough, Michael. I don’t know enough.”

“For Chrissakes, quit over-thinking everything, would you? Why can’t you—”

Suddenly enraged, I throw the closest soft object at the TV. “Because I don’t want anyone else to die!”

Michael’s eyes gleam with satisfaction. He doesn’t flinch. Nor does he look at the small squares of plastic tumbling to the floor from the smashed cardboard box. He stays focused on me. “Iz was right. This is about Tess.”

“She never said that.”

He half smirks. “Not to you, no. We’ve been talking about it.”

“Behind my back,” I declare flatly.

“You weren’t ready to listen.” He shrugs. “Now you have to, ‘cause you’re running out of time.”

I stare at him in silence for a few minutes. He sits there calmly, like this is no big deal, and my eyes narrow in suspicion. “You pissed me off on purpose.”

“No one knows what buttons to push like family.”

Michael is so damned smug that I have to laugh, and the fury drains right out of me. “One of these days, Mike…”

“Whatever. If Liz can toss you around, I doubt you could take me.”

“Touché.” I shift uncomfortably, pulling my knees up close. Like that could protect me. “I don’t want to talk about Tess.”

“Yeah. You never do, Max. Never want to, and never talk. Not in all this time, since you filled in the few blanks for me and Izzy.”

“I know.” Michael isn’t the same sullen, withdrawn boy I met years ago, but he’s not usually Mr. Share-With-Me, either. Clearly he’s concerned, and…he’s right to be, I think. “Did Maria fill you in on what we were discussing at dinner the other night? What happened with Liz and Gord?”

His mouth thins. “Yeah, I got an earful. Believe me, I’d have been sharing your jail cell.”

“Yeah.” I try to smile but fail miserably.

I watch his eyes narrow and then widen in comprehension. “Max, you don’t seriously think that’s even in the same ball park.”

“How is what I did to Tess any different?”

Michael’s jaw works as he struggles not to explode the way I did. I don’t think I realized until this minute just how angry he was at the whole situation. When he opens his mouth, I half expect to hear the same protective tone that characterized our father’s speech when he mentioned Tess the other night.

“I am going to explain this in small words, so you can’t feasibly claim you didn’t get it.” Rather than protective, his words sound clipped, like he’s forcing them out of his mouth.

“Tess wanted to fuck you and assassinate you. It wasn’t a stupid prank. It wasn’t about hurt feelings and low self-esteem, that a lot of therapy or a little love from the right person could cure. What happened with Tess was about the simplest equation there is: if you didn’t kill her, you were going to die.”

“I know, but—”

He shakes his head violently, cutting me off. “No. No ‘but,’ Maxwell. No wiggling it around; no candy-coating. It was a straight up deal and she got the short end of the stick. So move past it already.” The volume lowers considerably when he continues, “It was more than three years ago.”

“Graduation, execution, college. I remember, thanks,” I bite out.

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

“Don’t you want to kiss me, Max?”

“Of course I do, but I—I want to wait. You know, until we can really be together.” A little head lowering and a shy smile, and she beams at me, linking our hands.

“I’ve been waiting forever for you, Max. I can wait a little longer.”

I hold on to my smile somehow. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because she’s screaming when a disguised Michael and Isabel drag me away like a prisoner, and the fire rages from her eyes and sweeps through the building—the town. Mass immolation.


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

My sister, my brother and I were the only living beings that made it out of Copper Summit.

Michael knows what’s playing out in my mind. “If I could’ve taken on both Tess and Nasedo, I would have. I couldn’t. You had to be the bait because you were the one she wanted. You had her believing that you were the world’s biggest hick, right to the end. Because you had to.”

“Right.” The hate twisting in her blue eyes when she realized that I knew. I knew, and then I laid my hand on the traitor’s chest and used my abilities to kill.

“Maxwell. Let it go. It doesn’t make you evil. It doesn’t change who you are. Which, by the way, is the biggest sap in New Mexico,” he offers, rolling his eyes.

Startled, I laugh in spite of myself. “Well, you’re the biggest asshole.”

Michael grins. “No denial or apology for that, my friend.”

I just shake my head at him, matching the upward-aimed eyeballs. Until his blunt question catches me completely off guard.

“Max, you want to die?”

“No!”

“Want to live?”

There’s something glittering in his expression, and I know that these are two different questions. Not wanting to die doesn’t automatically translate into wanting to live. Sometimes, you don’t really care either way.

Now isn’t one of those times.

“Yeah, I do, Michael. I do want to live.”

He sits back, satisfied with my answer. “Then you need to make up your mind.”

I guess I do at that. I stare off into space for a moment, thinking, when the crackle of plastic refocuses my attention.

“I don’t buy this kind,” Michael comments in confusion.

I chuckle. “Well, you’ve used them before. Christine said her roommate swears by them.”

“Who’s her roommate?”

“Cassie Templeton?” I wait and laugh when recognition flits across his face.

“The sockless chick!”

“The one and only,” I confirm. We nicknamed her that after the sock on the door went missing for the last time while she was over here. That’s one thing that’s totally different about Michael from the stereotypical guys with multiple partners: he can name every single one of them, and match the names to the faces.

Of course, that may have more to do with the fact that there’s no alcohol involved on his part in any of his encounters, but I’m feeling generous.

Or not. He lets out this massive laugh. “You bought these? On some girl’s advice?”

“What of it?” Now I’m shading more towards belligerent.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, smirk firmly in place. “Horse’s mouth is probably good to listen to, anyway. I don’t get the spermicidal ones because some people are chemically sensitive.”

“Really?” Man, that’s a bad place to have an allergic reaction of some kind. The thought alone squicks me.

“Unfortunate but true. The latex is a much better disease barrier, so it doesn’t matter that much.” He snorts in amusement. “Bathroom, under-sink cabinet, back right corner.”

“What about it?” I ask when nothing else is forthcoming.

“Box of non-spermicidal ones. In case you need them.” Michael leers—badly—and I laugh at him even though I can feel my face reddening.

“Thanks.”

He shrugs, knowing I’m referring to more than the offer to borrow rubbers. “It’s nothing. I can hear the puck calling my name. You up for hockey viewage?”

I stand. “Nah. I have some…stuff to do.”

Michael nods, not even bothering to tease me as he flicks on the TV. Right before I close my bedroom door, he calls out.

“And you’d better apologize to Maria tomorrow, because this blew my intimacy quota for like the next five years!”
"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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