Author: Lindsay
Category: M/L + CC
Rating: TEEN - due to language and sex-u-a-lity
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell belong to The WB, Melinda Metz, and UPN.
Summary: Jumping off from the Pilot; Max Evans wakes up one September morning to find the last three years of his life were all a dream. What will he do when that dream starts to come true?
Author’s Note/Dedication: Thanks to Angel, my wonderful beta and friend, Tasyfa for being there to bounce ideas off of as well, and my muse and inspiration, Deejonaise. Also, thanks go out to my good friends at Land of Dreams for listening to me when I was plotting, specifically Eccentric One, SarahMarie, LusseLelle, Breathless, BelevnDreamsToo and alienmom. I also want to thank the very talented Hybrid-Angel for the gorgeous fic banner.
Any similarities to any other story out there are purely coincidental. I don’t have any definite plans on how long this fic will be, so don’t ask. Also, if at any time something offends you or you don’t like the way things are going for whatever reason, not that I’m planning on that, but if it happens…I’d rather receive your response in a private message. If I see it on this thread, I’m going to get upset since I just asked nicely.
Okay, I think I got everything, I hope you all enjoy…<center>
</center>Into the Dreaming
<center>Prologue – Into the Dreaming</center>
“If dreams are like movies then memories are films about ghosts…”
- Counting Crows
The room was dark, save for the occasional flicker of moonlight that spread across crumpled sheets where a figure lay sprawled. Soft strains of music could be heard floating through the air, low and soothing. There was no reason why it should have caused disturbance, but then things are often unexplainable.
Max Evans reclined flat on his bed, one arm tucked around his pillow as his eyelids fluttered. Caught in a tranquil state of half-awareness, he drifted along the edge of slumber and waking, his mind hazy and unclear.
Adam Duritz’s husky croon filtered through the night, singing of dreams and memories. For a long moment Max continued to lie still and breathe softly, then without warning he suddenly shot up with a gasp.
“Liz!”
He grabbed his temple with a hiss as feelings and images flashed through his mind like a film on fast forward. He fell against the bed, trying to sort the images, trying to understand what it was he was seeing.
Tawny flesh smeared with blood. Brown eyes staring at him with wonder and fear.
Liz, LIZ! You have to look at me. You have to look at me...
“Oh my God,” he breathed, seeing through another perspective as he placed his hand on Liz Parker’s stomach. Saw the connection spring to life, felt the rush of emotion that overflowed him.
The images flashed again, some filled with pain as he saw things he couldn’t comprehend. Glimpsed himself strapped to a table, needles prodding his arms as he screamed out in terror and frustrated rage. Felt the cold sweat dripping down his back.
Then he was running for his life, his heart racing as he turned to see the person next to him, pulled her close before jumping off of a bridge into the murky depths below.
Whispered words, hushed voices.
I want to be with you, Liz. I love you.
I love you…
Before he could accept the feelings sweeping through him, they changed yet again. He felt the pain of loss as he watched a funeral taking place, heard the sound of his sister weeping over the faceless person inside the casket.
Then anger, confusion…betrayal. His heart felt as though it were being ripped from his chest as he watched a cab driving away from him, then he was staring into big blue eyes.
I’ll be here for eternity…
Disgust, horror. Oh God, what had he done? Why couldn’t he remember?
His breath came heavily, his throat working as he fought to rise up from the torrent of emotion. His fingers curled into claws, tearing at the cotton sheets beneath him, legs thrashing.
A sudden serenity flowed through him as he pictured a small chapel located within a grove of trees. A hesitant smile crept over his features and a low purr escaped his throat as he turned in expectation. His hands searched but came up with nothing.
His eyes finally opened, and he blinked groggily as he raised his head. “Liz?” he managed thickly, glancing around for his wife.
His wife. The words never failed to drag forth an amazed joy from him, and he was constantly aware of how lucky he was. He had her…he didn’t deserve her, but he had her. Somehow, through it all, she still loved him.
Sitting up and rubbing his lids, he tried again. “Mmm, Liz? Where are you, babe?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, husky and thick with sleep, but filled with a sort of innocence he had lost over the last three years.
Still only half-awake, he stood and stretched lazily before stumbling towards the bathroom on the other side of the hotel room. They had to leave soon, he could already see the streaks of pink signaling dawn’s approach in the distance. Better to be on the road by the time daylight struck.
He reached his hand out for the doorknob, a jaw-cracking yawn splitting his lips. His hand met solid wall. He frowned, fumbling around for the crease where the bathroom door began.
Nothing.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the soft blue paint in sort of dazed confusion. Then his eyes widened and he let out a sharp cry as he stared at himself in the mirror perched on the wall.
“Holy shit!” he whispered, staring at his sixteen year-old reflection. Spinning around, he took in the plaid bedspread, the neatly arranged shelves and the computer glowing softly across the room, and realized at once he was back in his bedroom on Murray Lane.
With a low curse, he dove for the calendar, his heart beating a rapid pulse in his chest as a frown crossed his features. He skimmed the chart, mumbling incoherently as he searched for the date. When he found it, he fell back on his butt with a whoosh, blinking.
“September 18th,” he whispered out loud, squeezing his lids shut in denial. It couldn’t be…could it? He flipped the calendar over and the year stared back at him mockingly.
1999.
“Jesus.” He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head free of the confusion and panic that threatened to consume him. This couldn’t be happening, there wasn’t a way…it was impossible…but wait.
Suddenly his mind began to clear, he remembered going to bed last night in this very room. He remembered going to school the day before, sitting in biology and trying to keep from staring at Liz Parker as she worked. He remembered going to the CrashDown afterwards and watching her inconspicuously while listening to Michael whine about everything under the sun.
Oh God, was it all a dream? Everything? Somehow that knowledge brought a terrible pain to his middle, because despite the anguish he had experienced during those few minutes of dreaming, he’d also felt more than he’d ever had a chance to in his life. And the thought that it had only been a dream, he wasn’t really married to Liz…
“Christ, married?” he laughed brokenly. “You really are losing it, Evans.” With a sound of disgust, he stood and threw the calendar back onto his desk before turning to make his way back to bed. Only, now he wasn’t tired.
He lay there for several moments, staring at the ceiling as his mind worked. He’d never had an over-active imagination, not that he wasn’t creative, he just…didn’t dream of the impossible. Sure, he had moments when he stared into soft brown eyes and he wished for more, that things could be different. But he wasn’t given to creating entire delusions that left him questioning his own whereabouts.
In fact, he was always getting hell from Isabel because she thought he was too serious, that he…holy shit. With a grunt, he levered himself up and nearly knocked his skull against the headboard. He was out of his room in an instant, padding softly towards the bedroom at the other end of the hall.
Early morning light illuminated his sister’s sleeping form and without sympathy he reached out and shook her awake, his face a mask of tight control. When she simply snuffled and turned away, he shook harder.
“Go away,” Isabel’s muffled voice sounded, and any other time Max would have laughed at the petulant note in his sister’s voice. He knew Isabel was anything but a morning person, and it was a long-running joke in the Evans household over who would have to awaken her on days when her alarm failed. But this time…
“Wake up, Iz,” he said firmly, taking a seat on the bed as she groaned and grumbled. Wearing a tight-lipped smile, he listened to her curse him before she finally rolled over and met his gaze with a pouty frown.
“What time is it?” she demanded, shoving several blonde strands from her face. “And what the hell are you doing in here? Do you want me to turn all of your clothes pink for a week?”
He ignored her threat and went straight to the point. “Did you dreamwalk me?”
She stared at him, blinking her brown eyes several times before saying, “What?”
He made a sound and rolled his eyes. “You heard me, Iz. Did you dreamwalk me tonight? Did you play some kind of joke on me, because it wasn’t funny.”
“Max, what are you talking about?”
“I know you think I’m too serious,” he said, standing and pacing back and forth as she stared at him in befuddlement. “But you know how I feel about you…playing with my mind,” he finished, shooting her a glance. “And using Liz was not cool, Iz. Lay off, okay?”
“Liz?” she parroted, then fell back with a groan. “Oh God, don’t tell me you had some kinky dream about Liz Parker. Seriously, Max…get out of my room before I throw up all over my brand new sheets.”
“Stay out of my head, Iz,” he called before leaving the room, comfortable in the knowledge that at least now he knew why he’d dreamed what he dreamed. And knowing his sister wouldn’t stoop so low again, now that she’d been caught.
Isabel watched him leave before rolling her eyes and pulling a pillow over her head. “Liz Parker,” she mumbled. “You, brother dear, need more dream-help than I can give you.” With that, she fell back asleep.
<center>Chapter One – I Must Be Dreaming</center>
“It's only in my mind
Not real life
No, I must be dreaming…”
- Evanescence
“Mr. Evans, nice of you to join us.”
Max tucked his head down as he made his way around the lab tables, avoiding a glance at Ms. Hardy’s face as he mumbled an apology. He knew it was simply paranoia, but it seemed like every eye was upon him as he took his seat and stuffed a pencil in his mouth.
He waited until Ms. Hardy turned and continued the lesson he’d interrupted, then bent to drag out his notebook from the bookbag he’d dropped at his feet. As he straightened, he met the curious gaze of his lab partner and his breath caught as he froze.
“Max, is everything okay?” Liz asked softly, a wealth of concern evident in her voice as she brushed her thick brown hair behind her ears. He tried not to stare dumbly at her gently curved lips, but when she repeated his name he looked away as a blush crept across his cheeks.
“Fine,” he answered a bit gruffly, stealing another sidelong glance in her direction as he tore open the notebook. Clearing his throat, he added, “Just lost track of time.”
She lifted a brow, a confused expression flittering across her face before she carefully masked it with a smile. She leaned towards him and his eyes flew up wildly as she whispered, “I thought you were never late. You’re always here when I come in…” She paused, licked her lips, and he fought the urge to groan. She let out a soft giggle and shook her head. “Wow, that sounded pretty weird, huh?”
“What?” he managed, still focused on the fact that not seconds ago he’d been within reach to…do what? Kiss her? In a biology lab with at least twenty other students? Christ, that dream had messed up more than his sleep. Now he was thinking things he had no right to think.
He tuned back in to hear her say, “…stalkerish, don’t you think? I swear I’m not stalking you…I just noticed that you always are here before me and…I should just stop now while I’m ahead,” she laughed nervously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” he echoed dimly, the blood pounding in his ears as he stared at her. Funny how he’d never noticed the tiny freckle below her right eye, yet he’d somehow known it was there. Just like he knew that there was one just like it on her inner…
“Can I get a bathroom pass?” he demanded brusquely, standing up and avoiding Liz’s surprised gaze as heads swiveled their way. He battled momentary embarrassment, especially when Ms. Hardy narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s an…emergency,” he mumbled. A few people snickered, and he felt Liz’s brown eyes piercing him as he shifted.
“High maintenance today, aren’t we?” the teacher answered dryly, but nodded her acquiescence.
He nearly dove for the door, his legs eating up the floor in long strides. Once in the empty hallway, he fell back against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Get a grip, Evans,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It was just a dream, you aren’t involved with her.”
Saying it out loud didn’t diminish the feeling that he should be involved with her. That he had as much a right to talk and laugh with her as Kyle Valenti…the sheriff’s son. And Liz’s boyfriend. He let out a soft groan, rapping his head twice against the solid wall before turning on his heel and heading for the restroom.
“Max.”
He spun around to see Michael Guerin’s familiar scowl peeking out from behind a set of lockers. “What are you doing, Michael?” he sighed tiredly, moving to join his friend as Michael gestured towards him. “Why aren’t you in class?”
“Why aren’t you?” Michael retorted. Max lifted the bathroom pass and he snorted. “I can’t believe you need to have a pass to take a piss. And they call this the land of the free.”
Max rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. “Oppression at its worst.”
“Listen, can I stay with you guys tonight?” Michael blurted out, a hesitant expression crossing his features as if he expected to be turned down.
Max was slightly taken aback by his outburst. Not that it was abnormal for Michael to stay at the Evanses, but it was usually Isabel or himself who had to extend the invitation. Other times he just showed up. He couldn’t recall Michael ever actually asking to come over. “Yeah, sure…is everything all right?” he wondered.
Michael’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he managed a cocky grin before replying, “Peachy. See you later.”
With that he turned and walked off, leaving Max subdued by the entire conversation. He knew that Michael hated living with Hank, his foster father, and the situation brought nothing but guilt upon Max’s shoulders everytime he pictured his friend sleeping in a trailer while he and Isabel lived in a nice home with parents who loved them.
Yet everytime he or Isabel offered to help him or even displayed concern, Michael became stony and withdrawn. Max had learned to simply stop asking, but it didn’t diminish his worry for his best friend.
He glanced down at the restroom pass in his hand and sighed. He’d already been gone too long. With a heavy heart, he shot a glance down the corridor where Michael had disappeared before turning and heading back to class.
<center>***</center>
Later that day, Max drove down the dusty road towards home. He tuned out the familiar sounds of Michael and Isabel arguing and concentrated instead on the sound of John Fogerty’s raw voice warning about a bad moon on the rise. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the wind fluttering his thick black hair across his brow.
“Max!” Isabel’s annoyed tone broke into his peaceful serenity minutes later, and he glanced over to see her watching him. “Were you even listening to me?”
“No,” he grinned honestly. “Sorry, I was thinking.”
Only then did he realize what he was thinking about. He was imagining another drive down dusty roads, soft glances and rapidly beating hearts. His smile faded as he imagined Liz staring at him through brown eyes filled with hope and…love?
“Max! Hello? I can’t believe you’re acting so spacey today,” Isabel complained, reaching back to pull her long blonde hair into a ponytail.
“Well, he is from outer space,” Michael joked lamely. He rolled his eyes, falling back with a grunt and staring out of the windows as Isabel launched into her diatribe.
“If you’re planning on going to that grease-pit and mooning over little Miss Scientist again, count me out,” she declared, not bothering to hide her disdain for Liz or her family’s restaurant. “I made other plans.”
“Okay,” Max stated evenly. “I’ll just drop you off at home. Michael, you coming with?” He glanced at the rearview mirror and caught his friend’s gaze.
“Yeah, what the hell,” Michael shrugged. “Not like I’m missing anything back at home sweet home, except maybe Hank’s Happy Hour.”
Isabel and Max exchanged uncomfortable glances at his snide tone, but they chose not to comment. Max nodded and lapsed into silence as Isabel sighed and leaned forward. “I can’t listen to this anymore,” she stated out loud.
Max and Michael groaned as she spun the radio dial until the sound of empowered chick rock blared from the speakers, a la Courtney Love. The two males grumbled beneath their breath, but silently nodded their head along with the music.
As he pulled up along the driveway, Max opened his mouth to speak but Isabel cut him off with a quick kiss against the cheek as she gracefully exited the jeep in a flash of long limbs and flowing blonde hair. He stared after her, slightly amused by her eagerness not to go to the Crashdown.
Michael wasn’t as amused, in fact he was downright suspicious. “What’s she up to?” he wondered, his eyes narrowed as they followed Isabel’s progress towards the house.
Max shrugged and started to back out onto the street again. “She probably has another date.”
Michael bristled slightly. “She shouldn’t be dating so damn much, has she forgotten the fact that we’re fucking—”
“I don’t think she has,” Max broke in wryly. “Chill out, Michael, you know how Isabel is. She needs to feel…normal.”
What’s so great about normal?
The sudden flash had him gasping as his mind flooded with images and he swerved, narrowly missing the car that pulled out in front of him. With the sound of a horn ringing in his ears, he pulled over and threw the jeep in park as he breathed heavily.
“What the hell was that?” Michael demanded, leaning between the two front seats and staring in shock at his friend. “Christ, Max, do you have a death wish?”
“I’m sorry…I just…” he swallowed, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut as his heart rate began to slow. “I don’t know what happened…I just…”
“Spaced out?” Michael answered sarcastically, recalling Isabel’s earlier words. “Well, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re at home fantasizing about Liz Parker, Maxwell, but when it’s my ass on the line…”
“I know,” Max answered defensively. He rolled his shoulders before mumbling, “Frickin’ Isabel.” What the hell had she done to him with her tricks of boredom? He fully planned on having a longer discussion with her on the repercussions of her dreamwalking after he and Michael got home.
They rode the rest of the way to town without mishap and in companionable silence. As he pulled into a parking spot in front of the CrashDown Café, Max heard his friend snort under his breath at the flashing spaceship that served as a sign for the popular restaurant.
“I can’t believe we eat at a place like this,” he grumbled, getting out and stretching his legs as he grimaced at the alien paraphernalia adorning the outer walls.
“Everyone else does, and we’re just like everyone else,” Max reminded him in a low voice. “Besides, the burgers are good.”
So is the help, he couldn’t help but think as they walked inside and his gaze automatically lit on a petite brunette wearing a turquoise and silver uniform, a matching pair of antennae perched on her head. The image made him smile, even as he grimaced at the bad representation of his kind.
He lingered behind as Michael made a beeline for their regular booth, studying the line of her body and momentarily wishing she would turn around and look at him. Notice him.
When she did, he couldn’t stop the rush of warmth that coursed through him upon their gazes colliding. Awareness dawned in her eyes and she offered him a small, friendly smile. He returned it, hoping to whatever higher power existed that she couldn’t read his feelings all over his face.
It had never been this bad, the need to touch her. As it was, he could barely refrain himself from walking the few feet across the room and taking her into his arms, Michael and the rest of the customers be damned.
Instead, he tore his gaze away and joined Michael at the booth. He didn’t bother to glance at the plastic menu, he knew it as well as he knew the back of his hand. Instead, he busied himself with studying the checkered tablecloth and waiting for Liz to approach. He didn’t have to wonder if she would, he knew they were in her section. It was the main reason he’d always chosen this booth. He glanced up and stared unabashedly as she turned away from a table where two patrons sat.
Across the crowded room, Liz Parker bit her lip as she struggled not to grin. She made it as far as the cash register before she caught the reprimanding look of her best friend, Maria DeLuca, and the two girls burst into giggles.
“You are so bad girl,” Maria tsked, enjoying the joke as much as Liz as they glanced over to where two customers were silently gawking over what they believed to be an actual photo of an alien from the crash site.
The two teenagers had never put any stock into the rumors that surrounded their quiet desert town, and they were always amazed at the people who came to Roswell expecting to have a loony alien experience. They always left in disappointment after realizing the town was full of loonies, but all of the human variety.
A streak of wickedness urged Maria to add, “Oh, and Max Evans is staring at you again.”
Liz immediately sobered, a pretty flush stealing up her cheeks as she shook her head vehemently. “No way.”
“Hmm…” Maria grinned and nodded her head as she adjusted the goofy antennae headband.
“Maria! That is like…so in your imagination,” Liz proclaimed, blinking her wide eyes and nibbling at her lower lip. She glanced over her shoulder, and was at once surprised and not surprised to find herself staring into a pair of thickly lashed golden eyes. As soon as she caught him, he looked down and began playing with a packet of sugar.
Her heart began to beat quickly as she wondered…was Maria right? Sometimes it did seem like Max was watching her, but then after the way he’d reacted when she’d attempted to strike up a conversation that day during bio-lab…she’d just assumed he had no interest in her whatsoever.
When he’d finally returned from the bathroom she’d risked one glance at him, but he’d spent the remainder of the period concentrating on taking notes and hadn’t turned to her once. She refused to admit that she felt disappointment over it. And why should she? She wasn’t interested in Max Evans…was she? After all, she had Kyle.
It was that thought that had her speaking up to add, “And even if it weren't, I'm going out with Kyle. I mean, he's steady and loyal, and he appreciates me.” She finished on a breathless note as her friend simply stared at her, slowly shaking her head. “What?”
“Sounds like you’re describing a poodle,” Maria stated bluntly. She opened her mouth to continue, when the sound of loud voices reached their ears, along with crashing glass.
Liz stared in shock as two heavy-set men began arguing at a corner table. She prepared to buzz her father, but the next events that occurred rooted her to the spot as she stared in frozen horror.
One of the men pulled out a gun and waved it menacingly in the face of the other man. “I want the money today, not tomorrow!”
A blast ricocheted through the room, screams renting through the air as people fell to the floor in terror. She vaguely heard Maria crying her name through the ringing in her ears. Everything was growing dim…
“Holy shit,” Max whispered, watching his dream come true right before his eyes as his heart beat a thick tattoo in his chest. The second Liz fell to the floor, he made a sound and jumped up to start towards her.
A hand clasped firmly around his arm, dragging him back a full step. He didn’t even look back as he shrugged Michael off. “What are you doing?” he demanded in a harsh tone of grief. “Let go of me.”
“Max, what are you gonna do?”
He knew exactly what he was going to do, it wasn’t even a question. The fear he’d kept hidden for years disappeared in the face of Liz being shot. All he could concentrate on was healing her, making her whole. She shouldn’t suffer anything, not someone like her…
He stared down at the vision before him, tears filling his eyes as he saw the blood spreading across the front of her uniform. Without thinking, he ripped open the top and bypassed the girlish bra as his gaze searched for the wound. His heart nearly stopped as he saw the blood pouring forth from her lower abdomen with each beat of her pulse.
“What are you doing?”
He glanced over and saw Maria DeLuca staring at him through glazed eyes set in a white face. He shifted to block her view as he answered over his shoulder, “Call an ambulance.”
He heard the sound of her scraping feet seconds later, followed by an excited voice as she spoke rapidly into the phone. Michael’s voice joined in as he attempted to keep everyone back as long as he could.
Max took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the wound as he stared at Liz’s pale face. He swallowed thickly before whispering, “Liz…Liz, you have to look at me. You have to look at me…”
Her lids moved, her head lolled once before she slowly opened her eyes and stared at him groggily. He ignored the relief shooting through him, released a breath and nodded as his hand pressed against her skin.
They both gasped as the flashes began. For Max, it was nothing he hadn’t seen. The entire event was an out of body experience, for he knew every moment before it happened. He knew what she was seeing, and as he felt the connection opening once again, even though in reality it was for the first time, it brought tears to his eyes. He blinked them away and concentrated on healing her wound as she gazed up at him.
“You’re all right now,” he whispered as color began to fill her face and she struggled to rise. Everything inside of him screamed to run away, to disappear before someone could discover what he had done.
“Keys! Now!” Michael snapped over his shoulder.
But something held him there that extra instant, holding her bewildered gaze. He glanced up and saw the ketchup. As he broke the bottle and spilled it over her, he whispered, “You spilled ketchup on yourself. I’ll…I’ll explain everything tomorrow. Just don’t say anything, Liz. Please…don’t say anything until we talk.”
She blinked several times before nodding slowly, then began to cough as the sound of sirens drew closer. Max came to his knees, staring down at her and brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face as his finger traced the line of her cheek. His emotions were running high and at that moment, he couldn’t separate what was real and what was simply…a dream.
“Maxwell!”
“Burn that uniform,” he added gruffly, pulling himself to his knees and turning around to follow Michael out of the café. He stopped at the door and found her on her feet, starting towards him as if in a sleepy daze.
How he managed to tear his gaze away and leave he’d never know.
To Be Continued...
Evil, I know. But you guys will have to go along the journey with Max, as HE tries to answer the same questions you just asked.
Luckily, we caught it in time. Whew. 
