The 12 Days of Christmas (AU, ML / YTeen) (Complete)

This is the gallery for the winners of the fanfic awards to show off their fics, and their banners!

Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators

Locked
SansuCry
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 12
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm

The 12 Days of Christmas (AU, ML / YTeen) (Complete)

Post by SansuCry »

Winner - Round 2

Image

Image

Banner by the wonderfully talented Bordersinsanity


Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas: A Dreamer Story
Author: SansuCry
Email: sansucry@earthlink.net
Rating: YTEEN
Category: AU, M/L.
Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with Roswell or any one associated with it.
Summary: My own little Roswell world. Tess doesn’t exist because my mommy taught me that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. The shooting never happened. It’s Christmas time, and Liz Parker has a Secret Santa. Will it turn out to be the man of her dreams?
Dedicated to Ian, because seven years later I still think of you and wonder why.

This is Part 13 of the story, so go here to read the first twelve or so:

Twelve Days of Christmas Archive


A/N: I was hoping to post the rest of this story tonight, but my muse is messing with the last few paragraphs. Besides, it was approaching twenty-five pages, so I decided to break this down into two parts. If I'm lucky, I'll get Part 14 up tomorrow night...

Let me know what you think.

Part 13

Saturday
December 23, 2000

She hadn’t thought she would ever stop crying.

When the first clouded rays of sunlight had crossed the bed to invade her restless sleep she had hoped that last night had been nothing more than a bad dream, but the stiff puffy feeling of her tear-swollen eyes was an immediate reminder that her worst nightmare was completely real.

After spending hours analyzing the events of the previous two weeks she was still stunned that finding out Max was her Secret Santa had turned out to be so heartbreaking. She had thought that discovering he was the author of the computer-generated notes would be the most perfect thing she could ever imagine, but his steadfast refusal to tell her the truth regarding the expensive gifts that accompanied those notes had overshadowed any joy she had received from the revelation that the beautifully romantic words truly were his.

When she had walked over to the UFO Center to meet Max for his break her mind had been reeling with the ramifications of Isabelle’s disclosure in the Crashdown. She knew that the whole Secret Santa program revolved around the gift giver remaining anonymous for as long as possible, so the fact that he had kept his identity hidden wasn’t what had upset her. It was all about the gifts. It was one thing to receive a cache of presents that fell within the allotted five dollar per day range. If that were the case she would have understood the need for a few little white lies from him. As far as she had been able to determine, though, there was over three thousand dollars worth of merchandise sitting here in her bedroom, making Max’s fib about not spending any money on her escalate into an enormous lie as rapidly as the price tags on those gifts had grown.

His continued denial that he had spent any money for the presents had automatically made her seek out another explanation for the luxurious items, desperately searching for some way to be able to accept what he was saying. Her previous idea regarding how Michael would have obtained such elaborate things had briefly flashed thorough her mind before being discarded, the vision of Max going to the mall and shoplifting too absurd to consider. However, as her mind shifted to review her discussion with the one person who probably knew him best, the thought of Max being a thief had come back to life with a vengeance. She was certain that Isabelle’s little question and answer session in Psychology class had been his sister’s way of warning her that her gifts had indeed been stolen.

She had hoped that by voicing her suspicion aloud Max would find the courage to admit the truth, so of course she was disappointed when he denied this possibility as quickly as he had refuted spending money on the presents. He had asked to go somewhere more private to explain, but a sudden nervousness hit her as she realized that she didn’t really know Max Evans as well as she wanted to believe she did. After all, they had only begun speaking more than a few words to each other a mere eleven days earlier.

Once he conceded to continuing the discussion in their present location she wasn’t surprised when he suggested that she sit down for the revelation that was to come. She chose to stand nevertheless, and the minute he began talking about creating the gifts she knew he had no intention of being truly honest with her. She played along anyway, trying to see how far he was willing to take this charade, but the minute he included the infamous quote from ‘Starman’ she nearly broke out in tears. How could he so callously use what she had come to consider ‘their movie’ to explain away his criminal behavior?

Hoping that there was still a chance to rescue their burgeoning relationship she had begged him to tell her the truth then, but her profession of love and reassurance that he didn’t have to lie to impress her still had not been enough for him to come clean. If only he had trusted her enough to be honest she would have stood by him and helped him return the presents before he got himself into serious trouble. However, no matter how much she wanted that it had been obvious that it just was not going to happen.

By this time she had had her fill of the heartache and discomfort that had arisen from him being her Secret Santa. He knew she had embarrassed herself in front of Kyle, had laughed when she suspected his best friend Michael, and more than likely had figured out that she would consider Isabelle, since the girl had drawn her name, but for him to think that she would actually be gullible enough to believe his ‘I’m an alien’ act had been the final humiliation.

His mention of Maria had made her snap, instinct taking over at the reminder that not only had he lied to her, but her best friend had as well. All her frustration and anguish had come out as her mind raced with the knowledge that Max and Maria obviously knew each other much better than either of them had let on, the worst case scenario as to why that might be true instantly escaping past her lips without a second’s hesitation. She didn’t think she could stand any more betrayal by the people she had trusted so thoroughly, so when Max had pleaded for one more chance because he loved her, all she manage to was to ask how she could be sure it wasn’t just another lie.

Looking back, she wondered whether there was something she could have done to handle the situation better. She had given Max several chances to explain, yet he had steadfastly refused to be straight with her. What could he possibly be hiding that would make him resort to telling her the ridiculous lie that he was an alien? The most logical conclusion was that he had in fact stolen the gifts. Isabelle had told her that he hated going to the mall so the whole shoplifting thing was still out, but recalling the web page up on his computer had given her an idea as to the type of thievery he could have committed and how his sister would have knowledge of it. She would bet he had managed to get those presents shipped to him straight from the Internet by using a fraudulent credit card or hacking into the order systems of the companies he had obtained gifts from. In either case it was only a matter of time before he got caught, so she decided that proper thing for her to do was give the gifts back to him and insist he return them.

“What in the hell did you do to Max?” an infuriated voice sliced through her ponderings.

“I thought I told my mom that I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone,” she said as she glared at Maria.

“Well, I’m not just anyone. I’m your best friend,” the dark blonde retorted, “unless you’ve forgotten that.”

“If anyone’s forgotten, it’s you. You’re the one who’s been lying to me, you and your friend Max,” she said with no lack of bitterness.

The other girl’s voice softened. “Max would never lie to you, Liz. He loves you. You are his whole world, and if you have any doubts about that all you have to do is take one look at him today to know it’s true.”

Liz was still upset enough with Maria that she considered telling her to leave, but curiosity over what her friend might know about Max’s real secret got the best of her. “No, Max wouldn’t lie to me,” she said sarcastically. “He just expects me to believe he’s an alien.”

“Aren’t you the one who used to say the universe was just too big for there not to be other intelligent life out there somewhere?” Maria pointed out as she firmly shut and locked the bedroom door. “What makes you so sure that Max wasn’t telling you the truth?”

“Oh, give me a break,” she said disgustedly. “Not you, too. Get real. Aliens are going to travel thousands of light years to Earth just so they can pretend to be teenagers in the middle of the desert and use their powers of molecular manipulation to create Llado angels and Cherished Teddies calendars. I can see it now. ‘Alert the military. Call in the FBI. We have a rogue alien in Sector 7 whipping up copies of the Mona Lisa and selling them on eBay’.”

Maria gave her a reprimanding look. “Granted, Roswell is probably the last place on Earth aliens would want to land, but what about the ship that crashed in 1947? It’s not like they really had any other choice but to land here.”

“Soooo,” she dragged out as she did the math, “you’re saying that Max was in the 1947 crash? That would make him a minimum of fifty-three years old. I’d say he looks pretty good for his age, not to mention the fact that most people claim the aliens from the crash were three feet tall and green.”

“That’s because those aliens weren’t hybrids,” Maria calmly explained. “They were completely Antarian, and they knew they were going to die anyway. They brought the pods to Earth and were to keep them safe in orbit until they could find a suitable place to incubate. Then the ship crashed, and a cave out by Pohlman Ranch became the incubation chamber by default. Forty-two years later the pods hatched, and hours after that two aliens who looked like normal six-year-olds, a girl and a boy, were found wandering in the middle of the desert. A second boy was discovered three days after that.”

“So now not only is Max an alien, but there are two others as well?” she asked incredulously. “Oh, I get it. Michael and Isabelle are….what did you call them…hybrids, too?”

“Yeah,” Maria nodded. “Basically their alien DNA was mixed with human DNA so they could live here on Earth. It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’d have to ask Max for the details.”

As she sat there listening to Maria rationally discuss alien hybrids like they were an everyday occurrence a sudden appalling thought crossed her mind. Her friend actually believed what she was saying. Maria thought Michael, Max and Isabelle were aliens. A dreadful notion came to her then, one that would explain the source of the expensive gifts, Max’s lying, Maria’s lying, and her bizarre comments.

She walked over to her friend and rested her hand on the blonde’s arm. “Maria, I don’t want you to get upset with me, but I have to ask you something,” she began. “I’m worried about you. I know that we haven’t spent as much time together this year as we have in the past, and I’m afraid that we’re drifting apart. The fact that you didn’t tell me about Michael Guerin is proof of that. But I think there is more going on with you, something that involves both Michael and Max.”

“Of course there is,” Maria responded. “I just told you…”

“I know,” she interrupted, “…that you think they are aliens.” Her tone turning serious she hesitantly asked, “Maria, what have you been taking?”

“Taking?” Maria asked, confused by her inquiry. “What do you mean ‘taking’?”

“Which drug are you taking, Maria? It’s one of those you make yourself, isn’t it?” she swiftly questioned before stating her case. “I don’t know why I didn’t catch on sooner. You hiding stuff from me, Max lying about the gifts, this conspired b.s. story about aliens. Did Max sell the stuff or just trade it for my presents? I’m sure there are enough desperate kids out there who would swipe just about anything to get their next fix.”

“Drugs?” Maria laughed. “Wow, Max was right. You won’t even consider the possibility that he’s an alien.”

“Would you listen to yourself?” she demanded, growing tired of Maria’s games. “This is ridiculous. Why would you ever believe such garbage?”

“You’re the one being ridiculous, Liz. Max is a liar. Max is a thief. Max is a drug dealer. You would rather believe these horrible things about him than acknowledge that he is what he says he is. You want to know why I believe him? Because he’s telling the truth,” Maria said matter-of-factly. “Michael proved it to me, and if you had given Max half a chance last night he would have done the same for you.”

“So I could be humiliated one more time? No thank you. Not to change the subject, but since you’re the one who brought it up, what about you and Michael?” she questioned. “Max has obviously known about your relationship longer than I have, so naturally I wonder just how long you two have been together and why you didn’t bother telling me.”

“The first week of school I had to do an oral history report on Michael for Mr. Sommer’s class. You know, one of those ‘get to know your fellow classmates’ things,” Maria wistfully recalled. “Once I tracked him down and got him to talk we found out we had a lot in common, especially about abandonment issues and the fantasies we’d created about his real parents and my dad coming back for us. At one point I actually got him laugh. Can you believe that? Michael ‘Stonewall’ Guerin, laughing? It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. After that we started hanging around together, and eventually I found out he wasn’t completely human. ”

“So one day he just up and said, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m an alien’?” she asked with quiet skepticism.

“No, it wasn’t quite that easy,” her friend said with a reminiscing shake of her head. “Things ran hot and cold between us for weeks. He would always ask me to keep our time together a secret, so I thought he was ashamed to be seen with me. Then he’d do something really sweet and I’d be so happy that all I cared about was being with him, secret or no. Just when I thought we were getting close, he would take a step back. Finally one night I told him that I’d had enough. I wasn’t a yo-yo. He stormed out of my house, and Lucky ran out behind him. Before I knew it my dog was laying in the middle of the street, bleeding to death. A car had hit him, and the driver hadn’t even bothered to stop.”

“Oh, Maria,” she said as she saw the anguished look on her friend’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have…” she trailed off. With a frown she asked, “When did this happen?”

“September 17th,” Maria said pointedly.

She tensed for a moment at the reminder of the date before observing, “But Lucky’s still alive.”

“Yeah, I know,” Maria pensively smiled. “I ran out into the street to be with him while he died, but Michael beat me there. He picked Lucky up and brought him into the house, saying that it was all his fault and telling me how sorry he was. Before I even had a chance to let him know I didn’t blame him his hands were on Lucky’s wound, and they were…glowing.”

“Glowing?” she questioned, positive she hadn’t heard Maria correctly.

“He healed my dog, brought him back from the brink of death and made him perfect again, with just his bare hands. I didn’t know whether to be shocked or afraid, but then Michael took one look at me and my heart broke. He was scared of me, so much so that I could actually feel his fear coming off of him in waves. He was terrified I’d freak out and run away, but how could I? He had just performed a miracle in front of my very own eyes. It was a huge gamble for him to take, risking his own life just to save my Lucky, especially since he had no idea how I would react.”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell me about your relationship? Because Michael’s an alien?” she surmised, not completely believing her friend but at least willing to hear her out.

“Michael, Max and Isabelle had a pact that they tell no one the truth about their origins, which also implied that they wouldn’t get too…involved with other people. Michael broke both of those rules because of me. He had asked me to hide our relationship because he was afraid Max and Isabelle wouldn’t understand, especially since I now knew the truth. He was aware that you and Max were lab partners, so he was afraid if I told you about us that it might get back to Max.”

“Then how did Max go from not getting involved with other people to becoming my Secret Santa?”

“About a week after Michael healed Lucky Max walked in on us at Michael’s apartment. He was beyond furious when he found out I knew everything. For a month and a half he refused to speak to Michael until the stress finally got to be too much and Michael broke up with me. Michael said that he would always love me but couldn’t afford to lose Max’s friendship.”

“Wait,” she interjected, needing some clarification. “How can you and Max be friends if he tried to break you and Michael up?”

“Because I knew the one secret about him that no one else, not even Michael and Isabelle, knew.”

“So you blackmailed Max into forgiving Michael?”

“More like I gave him a cold hard dose of reality,” she smirked. “After Michael broke up with me I went over to Max’s house to congratulate him on winning his imaginary battle. I told him that the only reason he was doing this was because he was jealous.”

“Jealous because Michael was now spending all his time with you?”

“No,” Maria clarified. “Jealous because Michael and I had everything Max wanted to have with you.”

Her stomach tightened into a knot as she expectantly asked, “Everything like what?”

“Like telling you, the girl he loves more than anything else in this world or any other, the truth about himself and having you not freak out or run away. Having you accept him even though he is different. Having you say that you love him and would never turn away from him. In short, everything you didn’t do last night.”

She lowered her eyes in shame. She knew she had hurt Max last night, the stress of the whole Secret Santa disaster and the pain of his perceived betrayal the only excuses she could give for her thoughtless parting shot. What if Maria really was telling her the truth? How could she ever make it up to him?

“Do you have any idea what it took for him to open up to you?” Maria asked as if she had been reading her thoughts. “When the Secret Santa thing came up, I told him that this was his one opportunity to start living his life instead of just…existing. At first he didn’t even plan to tell you he was your Secret Santa. He was going to give you the things he wanted you to have and then erase Isabelle’s name from the program book so that you could never link him to the gifts. I finally got him to consider changing his mind by telling him that he could trust you, that I was your best friend and I knew that you liked him nearly as much as he liked you. When you two had your little stargazing date he realized I was right and eventually decided he would go ahead with letting you know the truth.”

A horrible sinking feeling came over her as the gravity of Maria’s words hit her full force. All the time she had been obsessing over the identity of her Secret Santa and her ambivalent feelings toward the expensive gifts she had been receiving Max had been debating whether to put his life on the line simply to tell her that he loved her. “How he must hate me,” she mumbled despondently.

“Max could never hate you, Liz,” Maria consoled. “He’s just very hurt, and he’s convinced that you’ll never want to have anything to do with him ever again.”

“So everything he told me, everything you told me, is real?” she asked one final time.

“As real as the ‘Best Friend’ necklace or charm or bracelet that you planned to give me tonight is.”

Her eyes snapped up at Maria’s analogy. “How long have you known?” she asked resignedly.

“C’’mon, chica. Orange nail polish? There’s only one person I’ve ever known who wore orange nail polish, and her name is Amy DeLuca,” Maria teased. Holding up her own hands to show off her manicure she added, “Now there’s two. Did you really think I could forget that whole mess we made?”

“I guess not,” she said with a small smile, grateful for her friend’s attempt to lighten the mood.

“Even being Miss Scientist, Liz, I know how hard this probably is for you to accept,” Maria soothed. “If I hadn’t seen Michael’s handiwork with my own eyes, I’m sure I would have reacted the same way. Who am I kidding? I would have gone bezerk and run away while screaming my head off like a loon.” With a thoughtful sigh her serious tone returned. “Lizzie, I’ll be the first to admit that maybe Max could have handled this whole Secret Santa thing a lot better, but now that you know why he did things the way he did I hope you can cut him some slack. You should keep in mind is that no matter what Max is…still Max. He’s the same guy who’s been your lab partner for the past three years, the same guy who comes into the Crashdown every chance he gets just to stare at you, the same one who trusted you enough to want you to know the truth. If you interest in him all these years has been genuine, if you really love him as much as I think you do, none of this should change those feelings.”

“None of it does,” she adamantly confirmed. “I do love him, and that’s the reason I got so upset last night. I was devastated that he was lying to me, or at least I believed he was. That is understandable, isn’t it?”

Maria indicated her agreement with a nod and a sympathetic smile.

“I’m still not sure I can believe all of this alien stuff, but if there is even the slightest chance it is true then the least I owe him after last night is the opportunity to prove it to me. That is, if he even wants to prove it to me now.”

“Of course he does,” Maria cheered. “But I think it might be better for all concerned if I give you the proof you need before you see him again, and I can do that without even having to leave this room.”

“What do you mean?” she queried.

“Where’s the angora sweater Max gave you?”

“It’s in that box over there. I packed up all his gifts and was going to return them the next time I saw him,” she said as she pointed to her desk chair, her voice saddened by the thought of giving up the beautiful items. “Out of all the presents it was my favorite. His, too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Maria knowingly quipped as she walked across the room and rummaged through the cardboard container. Retrieving the sweater she returned to her original location and held it out, silently demanding she take it. “He put a lot of effort into it. He wanted it to fit you perfectly, but Isabelle and I told him there was no way to do that without taking your measurements.” With a sly grin she continued, “You should have seen how red his face got when he admitted that he knew your body well enough to do the alterations from memory.”

She couldn’t stop the blush that colored her own cheeks at Maria’s comment before curiously asking, “Max said he created my gifts from other things, but he didn’t say what kinds of things. What could he possibly alter to make an angora sweater?”

“I could just tell you,” Maria toyed, “but look at some of the conclusions you’ve been jumping to lately. My Spaceboy writing love notes? Max a drug dealer?” Unsuccessfully stifling her laughter she added, “Isabelle a lesbian? Sorry, chica, but I think you need some practice with your deductive reasoning skills.”

“You have some stranger give you a bunch of outrageously expensive gifts and see how well your brain works,” she countered.

“Liz, if I had known sooner they were making you that uncomfortable, I would have insisted that Max tone them down,” Maria offered apologetically. “I tried to warn him that he might be going overboard, but he can be pretty stubborn when it comes to you.”

She gave her friend an appreciative look as she explained, “I was just worried that someone was draining his or her bank account to try to impress me. I felt bad because I knew that whoever it was didn’t stand a chance against Max. Of course since it turns out that it was Max and you both say he didn’t spend any money on my gifts I obviously don’t feel so bad now.” Eager to have the proof she needed to begin accepting Max’s alien story she continued, “Speaking of, are you going to force me to make a million guesses about the origins of this sweater or do I get some kind of hint?”

“I guess I’ll give you a hint. After all, every good scientist needs a starting point,” Maria conceded with feigned exasperation, “although I believe they call them facts. I promise I won’t make this too hard for you. I think you’ve suffered enough already. Anyway, fact number one: after Max gave you the sweater he realized that there was one very important thing he forgot to change.”

She glanced down at the sweater before bringing her gaze back to Maria, uncertain as to what she should do.

“Go on,” Maria urged, “check it over. See whether you can figure out what he missed.”

She hesitantly held the sweater out in front of her and looked it over, examining every last inch of the front before turning it over to peruse the back. Nothing appeared unusual or out of place. She gave Maria a puzzled frown and remarked, “I don’t know. It looks like a regular black angora sweater to me.”

“Look carefully, Lizzie.”

“Is it the buttons?” she asked. Her eyes widening she whispered, “They aren’t real pearls, are they?”

“No, the buttons aren’t real pearls,” Maria refuted. “This hint has something to do with properly caring for the sweater.”

“Caring for it? You mean like washing it? I assume it would have to be dry cleaned.”

“Are you sure?” Maria egged her on. “I’m pretty sure you hand wash angora. You better check the label.”

Noticing that there was no tag at the neckline she draped the sweater over her arm and undid the buttons to expose the inside seams. There toward the bottom of the left side seam was the familiar white rectangle that would give her the correct washing instructions. Her brows wrinkled in confusion as she read the information listed there. “Machine wash cold with like colors. Tumble dry on medium heat. One hundred percent acrylic. So it isn’t really angora?” she questioned.

“It is now,” Maria corrected. “It didn’t used to be.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” she commented as her mystification continued. “Your proof that Max is an alien is that he supposedly changed an acrylic sweater into an angora one?”

“While you still have that tag in your hand why don’t you turn it over and read the other side,” Maria suggested.

“Sears Men’s Store?”
I thought it was time for me to make a change.

“Size Large?”
I’ve already given it away.

“No, it can’t be,” she weakly protested. “When you said alterations I thought you meant a few stitches here and there. I…is this really…”

“Come on, chica. You can say it,” Maria encouraged. “Show me that those deductive reasoning skills are still intact and make me proud.”

The excitement in Max’s eyes as she had thrilled over the sweater in the middle of the school hallway made such perfect sense now. At that time he must have not yet decided that he would reveal himself at the end of the Secret Santa program, so in his mind giving her this present had been the closest he would ever come to making her his girl. No wonder he loved seeing her wear it.

As inconceivable as the whole thought of real aliens living in Roswell as teenagers was, she suddenly had no doubt that it was the truth. The proof, along with Max’s heart, was resting in the palm of her hands. “This is Max’s Monday sweater,” she quietly venerated, the awe in her voice barely scraping the surface of the emotions that statement generated.

“Good job, Lizzie. I knew you could do it,” Maria cheered. “I guess the next question is: what are you going to do now that you know Max was being honest.”

A devious smile graced her lips as she enlightened her best friend. “I think it’s time for me to play not-so-secret Secret Santa.”
Last edited by SansuCry on Sun May 04, 2003 3:30 pm, edited 6 times in total.
SansuCry
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 12
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm

Twleve Days Part 14

Post by SansuCry »

Hey, there. Sorry for the delay. I had thought I could finish this up with just one more part, but that just isn't happening. LOL!

I'm going to have several busy days ahead of me (read that: no time to write) getting ready for my daughter's first birthday party on Sunday, so I decided to break down my very long chapter and give you some Dreamer fun.

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Part 14

He let out a defeated breath before climbing out of the jeep to head into the house, his despondency growing deeper with each step. He was amazed he was able to walk at all under the crushing weight of his depression. Thankfully the UFO Center had been teeming with enough holiday visitors today that he hadn’t had any time to let the reality of his situation completely sink in. Now that his shift was over, however, there was nothing to do but wonder whether Liz would ever speak to him again.

He had so desperately wanted to go to her balcony last night after he finished his shift to prove that he was not lying to her, but she had been so angry and upset when she had walked away from him that he doubted she would have allowed him anywhere near her. Besides, he had already endured enough rejection for one day. He didn’t think he could handle even more. Maria had urged him to stage a good old-fashioned alien abduction, but the last thing he wanted was to pressure Liz into something she wasn’t prepared for. He would wait for her to come to him, and if she chose not to then he would have to learn how to live the rest of his life without the girl who had been at the center of his dreams for as long as he could remember.

He had remained confident throughout today’s shift that she would at least come to the UFO Center with gifts in hand and officially end things between them, most likely informing him that she had no need or desire to attend the dance now that his identity had been revealed. His stomach had knotted with a mixture of dread and anticipation each time the door had opened to reveal the overcast skies outside, each uneventful occurrence one step closer to the time when the person walking across the threshold would be there to destroy his last hope of ever having a halfway normal life.

That moment never happened though, and as he walked into the only place he felt somewhat safe he was glad to see that he was alone. He called out, nevertheless, and when there was no response he collapsed on the couch where he had spent one wondrous night with his dreamgirl. He tried to not completely break down as he tossed his head back and remembered how soft her skin had felt underneath his lips, the silken caress of her hair against his cheek. Determined anguished tears forced their way past his closed lids to trail down the sides of his face and neck before disappearing underneath the collar of his shirt.

“Max?”

Startled by the sudden intrusion he jumped up and turned to face the last person he expected to find in his empty house. “Liz?” he asked in astonishment as he hastily wiped away the evidence of his grief. “How did you get in here?”

She walked around the couch to stand in front of him, grateful that he didn’t back away as she had done last night. Giving him a shy tentative smile she explained, “Isabelle agreed to get your parents out of the house for a while so we could have somewhere private to talk.”

Any hope he had that she was here for him to take her to the dance disappeared when he saw how she was dressed. Faded jeans, a burgundy sweater, and hair twisted up in a loose bun. He nodded his understanding as he shifted his eyes away from her, afraid she would be able to tell he had been crying. When his gaze settled on a box in the recliner filled with the angora sweater and the rest of the gifts he had presented to her he knew his prediction was about to come true. She was going to end what was left of their tentative relationship before even giving it a chance to develop into the beautiful connection he instinctively knew they would share. He could hardly blame her. He should have told her from the start that he was an alien freak.

When it became obvious he wasn’t going to help her with the effort to shatter his heart a second time she began, “The night we watched ‘Starman’ here and you…gave me those beautiful little kisses all over my face I felt …guilty, actually. Here you were lavishing me with such loving attention and stirring up incredible emotions I had never felt before, and the only thing I could imagine was this old angel Christmas ornament. I was positive that I had never seen it before, but the picture of it was so clear in my mind that I had to wonder why I had thought of it at such an unusual moment. Now I know. That image came from you, didn’t it?”

He continued his silence by merely nodding again, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze.

She walked over to the cache of presents and took out the box that held the Lladro angel. Carefully removing it from its packaging she stood before him and offered up the delicate figurine. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t think this was beautiful,” she commented, “but I don’t want it...”

“Liz…” he began, wanting her to just leave the things and walk out of his life before he completed his breakdown right down in front of her.

“I know I didn’t give you a chance to talk much last night, but I’m asking you to please let me make this one comment,” she cut him off. “I’ll give you all the time in the world to talk once I do.”

He let out a resigned sigh and nodded his acceptance, knowing he deserved whatever angry thoughts she had regarding being tricked into falling in love with an alien.

“I don’t want…” she started again, then apparently changed her mind. “I didn’t need fancy presents to fall in love with you, so I don’t need this statue or any of the other things sitting in that box. I would, however, like to have the things they were before you changed them.” She contritely added, “And forgiveness for not believing you were telling me the truth.”

It took a minute for her words to sink in and once they did his head automatically snapped up to meet her stare. “You mean you aren’t returning them to me?” he finally choked out.

“I’ll keep them no matter what,” she confirmed as she reached her free hand out to caress away the residual dampness from his tears, “but I would much rather have the original items, and your forgiveness.”

“I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to believe me. I mean, it’s not every day your boyfriend says he’s an alien,” he sardonically replied. “But you’re here now and willing to listen, so as far as I’m concerned there’s nothing to forgive.”

She gave him a grateful smile and simply said, “Thank you.”

“About the gifts, though,” he beseeched as he leaned into her palm, breathing in the warm soft scent that was hers alone. “Please don’t ask me to change them back. I’ll admit that a little of their extravagance was to get your attention, but that wasn’t the main reason I altered them.”

“Then why did you?” she asked with growing curiosity.

His eyes closed in thought and he took a few deep breaths before responding. “Deciding to become your Secret Santa was the most significant decision of my life,” he reverently explained. “Whether or not I worked up the courage to reveal myself and tell you the truth, I knew that I would never be the same person again. Creating your gifts was my way of commemorating that change. The original items were…things that had influenced me, defined who I was, or were reminders of you while the gifts they became were my hope that the next stage of my life would include a little more interaction between you and me than biology notes and Cherry Coke orders.”

“I’m not quite sure I understand,” she remarked, turning just enough to place the Lladro angel on the coffee table while her other hand continued to soothe away the lingering vestiges of his sadness.

“You might want to sit down,” he reiterated his statement from the previous night. “This is going to take a while.”

She lowered her hand from his face to entwine her fingers with his, making it obvious that she wouldn’t take a seat unless he joined her.

He led her to the couch and waited until they were both settled before gesturing to the porcelain angel. “When Isabelle and I were first adopted I hated being here. I would cry myself to sleep every night because I wanted to go home, even though I had no idea where home really was. My mom gave me a little toy house to keep by my bedside so that when I grew lonely I could look at it and feel some kind of comfort. The angel ornament was a similar idea, only it was from my grandmother. She told me it was my guardian angel, someone who would always be there to watch over me. It stayed next to my toy house for five Christmases before I finally hung it on the tree, the year my grandmother died.”

Her delicate fingers traced the back of his hand. “That’s a beautiful story, Max,” she quietly admired, “but why would you want to change the ornament into something else if it meant so much to you?”

The corners of his mouth automatically curled up into a tranquil smile. “Because by changing it I made it even more special. No matter what it looks like it will always be filled with all the love my grandmother had for me, and that love helped make me who I am today. When I turned it into the Lladro angel, I did so wishing that someday you and I would spend our first Christmas together with it sitting atop our tree. It would be loved all over again, for an entirely different reason.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand, and he was afraid he might have upset her with his candid revelation, but those fears were quickly dispelled when he felt her lift their clasped hands to her face. “You’ve really thought about someday having a home with me?” she asked in amazement as she nuzzled the back of his hand with her cheek.

“Spending the rest of my life with you is the only future I think about,” he answered bluntly.

Her eyes filled with a flurry of emotions before relaxing into a curious gaze. “The other presents? Do they mean as much to you as the angel?”

“Some are more significant than others,” he verified. “You might really be surprised when you find out what some of them originally were.”

“Such as?” she prompted.

“Such as the pearl earrings,” he said with a tender smile. “The first day Isabelle and I were to go to school I was so petrified that she had to literally drag me off of the bus. When I stepped onto the playground my eyes were automatically drawn to you. There you were, engrossed in playing hopscotch with Maria, when you just froze in the middle of your jumping and looked up at me. That one glance was all it took to melt all my fears away, and I just somehow knew that everything would be all right, that I would be all right. When the bell rang and everyone else ran inside I lagged behind to pick up the two rocks you had been using for your game. I wanted to keep them as a memento of the first time I ever saw you.”

“And those rocks are now my pearl earrings?” she asked, her utter astonishment evident in her voice.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly before continuing. “There were other things like that, little tokens and keepsakes I used. I made the Godiva chocolate box from those kid-sized Valentine cards I’d collected from you in grade school. I know you gave them out to everyone in the class, but I always liked to pretend that I was special.”

“You were special, Max,” she venerated. “Your cards were the only ones I ever signed with a heart in place of the dot on the letter ‘i’.” Reaching out and caressing his cheek she continued in a half-serious, half-teasing tone, “You’re even more special now. After all, how many girls can claim they’ve received chocolates made out of paper?”

“Actually,” he sheepishly corrected, “the chocolates were pieces of Halloween candy you’d given out during our class parties.”

“You kept them?” she asked with a tinge of disappointment. “But I always made sure I gave you Milky Way bars. Isabelle told Maria that they were your favorite.”

“They used to be,” he laughed, acknowledging the irony behind that fact, “but now I’m partial to all things strawberry.”

Her cheeks darkened at his obvious reference to her favorite shampoo and lotion before wrinkling her nose and asking, “I guess reformulated Milky Way bars are better than eating paper, but wouldn’t they have been a little on the stale side by now?”

“Getting rid of the staleness was the easy part,” he lightly boasted. “Now making the chocolate coating pure white…that was a challenge. It kept turning out looking dirty. I still wasn’t completely happy with the final result, but it was the best I could do.”

“Well, it must not have bothered me,” she conceded with a laugh, “because the truffles sure didn’t last very long.” Motioning toward the box of gifts with her chin she added, “Now you really have my curiosity peaked about the rest of those. What’s next?”

“When we had our end of the year picnic in fifth grade,” he elaborated, “I was so thrilled that I got to sit next to you during the bus ride out to Mirror Lakes that I brought home a few small twigs to remember the day. Combine those and a couple of toothpicks from our biology experiments and you have a wooden jewelry box.”

“The Boy Scouts have nothing on you, do they?” she kidded with a contented light in her eyes. “Although I think I deserve a merit badge for negotiating the deal that narrowed down your choice of bus seats in the first place.”

“You mean you planned that?” he asked incredulously. “You actually wanted me to sit with you?”

“Are you kidding? Every girl in our class wanted you to sit with them, and each of them had their own scheme to make it happen. Unfortunately for them all their plans relied on the help of the same friends who were plotting against them, so I ended up the winner.”

“How did you manage to succeed where they didn’t?” he asked in rapt fascination.

“My plan revolved around the other half of our class,” she explained. “It’s amazing the things you can get a fifth grade boy to do for a set of Power Ranger trading cards. With a little help from Maria the end result was that there were only two available seats on the bus by the time you and Michael climbed aboard, and I just hoped that I wouldn’t be stuck with him.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “If Michael had tried to sit with you I would have come up with some kind of excuse about discussing homework to trade seats with him. And if that didn’t work I would have turned him into a frog.”

“You can do that?” she asked, eyes widening in horror.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before,” he confessed. Giving her a wickedly teasing grin he asked, “Would you care to try an experiment?”

“Maybe later,” she jovially returned. Seriousness entering her voice as she glanced over at the Secret Santa gifts she asked, “Have you always been able to change things like that?”

“Probably,” he said pensively. “Isabelle and I always knew we were different, but we didn’t discover our abilities until we were on vacation the summer between third and fourth grade. Our parents took us to Florida, and we had been on the coast making patterns in the sand when Isabelle dug down and sliced her wrist on a piece of glass. The blood was just pouring out of her, and I instinctively placed my hand over the cut and just…healed it. She was a little freaked out for a moment, but then we realized that we’d better get rid of the blood before my mom and dad saw it and became suspicious. Isabelle waved her hand over the area and all the blood turned into sand.”

“Wow. I bet that’s a day you’ll never forget,” she remarked, her voice full of admiration.

“No, I sure won’t,” he said with a cynical snort. “That night before we left the beach my mom and Isabelle stopped in the gift shop. My mom brought back a stuffed dolphin as a surprise present for me. I named him Buddy, and even though he became my favorite souvenir he was also a constant reminder that I was an even worse freak than I had thought. Every time I looked at him I knew that I’d never have kids of my own to take to the beach, that no matter how badly I wanted it I would never be normal.”

He didn’t even have time to glance at her to gauge her reaction before his face was in her hands and she was kissing him, deep, long kisses that told him she thought he was anything but a freak. He nearly cried out as he let down his defenses and finally, completely opened up to her, the fear that she might get flashes from him no longer a reason to hold back. The depth of her feelings washed over him like a tidal wave, forcing his heart to beat wildly in his chest as the rest of his body was electrified by the knowledge that Liz Parker loved him with a fierceness that rivaled his own passion for her. It was the most wonderful sensation he had ever experienced, and one he knew he wouldn’t soon forget.

When their kisses were interrupted by the necessity to breathe she pulled just far enough away from him to take in the required air, her forehead resting against his as she finally whispered, “What’s so great about normal?”

That simple question banished all the hateful thoughts he had ever had about his alien origins, her awe and admiration filling him with a newfound sense of pride. He immediately captured her lips with his again, pouring his heart and soul into each tender movement and brimming with passion for this slip of a girl who was making all his fantasies become blessed reality. Each responding action brimmed with her unconditional love, her adoring thoughts and yielding body proving that what he believed to be an insurmountable defect she considered a most precious gift that should be celebrated and treasured. He couldn’t have been more overjoyed.

“That’s why you made the kissing dolphins statue out of Buddy?” she commented more than questioned on their second quest for air. “Because my kisses were the only thing that would make you stop hating yourself?”

He glanced away in embarrassment as he realized she had been able to read his thoughts as well.

“And my walking away from you last night only made that loathing worse, didn’t it?” she said with a glum shake of her head. “Max, I’m sorry for the way I acted last night. I was just so….everything. It was never about not loving you. As a matter of fact it was because I love you more than I ever imagined possible that I reacted so strongly. It hurt so much, at first because I thought you were lying to me and then because I thought you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the real truth. I listened with my head instead of my heart, and because of that I overreacted and ended up doing the worst possible thing. I hurt the sweetest, kindest, sexiest, most loving alien on Earth, and I regret that more that you will ever know.”

He brushed away some loose strands of hair from her face before allowing his hand to rest on the back of her neck. “You aren’t the only one with regrets. I didn’t lie to you, but I wasn’t completely honest, either. After all these years of knowing you I should have had enough faith to tell you the truth about me before I laid one finger on you. If I could go back in time and change it I would.”

Rubbing his nose with hers she directed, “What’s done is done. We both made mistakes, and all we can do now is learn from them and move on.” She emphasized her point by peppering his face with the same worshipful kisses he had bestowed upon her the last time they had shared the couch. “Besides,” she finally said in a lighthearted tone, “who knows what might happen if you try to change the past? Maybe if we’d done things differently and gotten together sooner it would have caused the end of the world or something.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous idea. “Liz Parker, I refuse to believe that anything terrible could come from loving you.”

“I guess you’ll have to convince me of that later,” she bantered back, “but for now I want to know about the rest of my presents.”

“Let’s see,” he thought aloud. “Speaking of convincing reminds me of Freshman Speech class, so I guess I’ll tell you the story behind the Movado watch. It was originally a Timex, my eighth grade graduation present from my parents, and I would always use it to time my speeches. When the actual day came to give my speech I would get so nervous that I was certain I’d throw up, but then I’d get up in front of the class, take one look at my watch and pretend that for the next five minutes I was talking only to you.”

She leaned back to intently peruse him, the look on her face the same encouraging one she would always have on those otherwise gut-wrenching days. “Do you have any idea how much I looked forward to speech days? The way you looked at me…at least I pretended I was the one you were looking at…that look made me feel like you were seeing somewhere deep inside of me, and that I could see that deeply into you.” Gently resting her thumbs on his cheekbones she explained, "These eyes, these beautiful soulful eyes, were always so expressive, but the only thing I’d ever seen in them was loneliness. I always wondered what it would take to make that loneliness go away.”

“I hope you know by now,” he said reverently, “that it was you. You’re the one who has made it disappear.”

Her lips were on him then, generously offering adoring kisses that vowed he would never have to feel alone again. Wrapping his arms around her middle to clasp her tightly to him he eagerly accepted her devout promise, elated that not only had his worst fears not come to pass but also that his dreamgirl had just made his greatest dream come true. Before he had a chance to settle in to enjoy the languid pace she had set for them she broke the amorous mood with an amused giggle.

“What is it?” he asked, worried that he had somehow been kissing her the wrong way.

“I was just thinking about that old trick for getting comfortable with public speaking,” she answered with a sudden shyness. “The one where you imagine people in their underwear. Did you ever do that?”

He could feel the redness burning into his face as he diverted his gaze to the box of gifts across the room. He NEVER would have used that tactic with her in front of a whole class of his peers. The results of such thoughts would have been much too obvious. A sharp spike of horror jolted him as he all of a sudden worried what kinds of flashes she might be receiving from him. Is that why she had asked?

“This sheds a whole new light on those cute little Cherished Teddies you made,” she teased as she seductively nipped at his ear. “Were they a substitute for a different kind of teddy you wanted to give me?” He coughed uncomfortably at her suggestion until she let him off the hook. “You don’t have to tell me,” she huskily whispered. “I think it’s better that I not know.”

“Trust me,” he replied wryly, “it’s nothing that scandalous. You’ll probably just think I’m some kind of weirdo stalker once I tell you what they were.”

“I’d never think that,” she said with a reassuring smile as she moved to adjust her legs underneath her, her body pressing enticingly closer to him in the process. “Being a stalker means you’re giving unwanted attention to someone.”

“And you wanted my attention?” he warily questioned.

“Very much so,” she said tenderly. “Either I was blind or you hid your attraction very well, because I had no idea how you felt about me until last week.”

“I hid it, or at least I tried to,” he confessed. “Michael, Isabelle and I made an agreement that we would never tell our secret to anyone, that we wouldn’t get involved…”

“…and Michael broke that pact,” she finished. “Maria told me the story this morning.”

“I’m sure she did,” he said with a small sigh. “I was quite a jerk to both her and Michael.”

“That’s understandable, Max. You felt betrayed…”

“No,” he said with an emphatic shake of his head. “I felt like a hypocrite.”

“Why? You kept your promise,” she defended.

“Only out of luck,” he insisted as he closed his eyes at the memory. With a calming breath he explained, “The Cherished Teddies calendar was made from a pocket calendar I utilized to keep track of your work shifts. I would go to the Crashdown every chance I got, just so I could catch a glimpse of you as you…danced around the restaurant.”

She blushed at his observation of her work manner before frowning and asking, “Not that I’m not glad you and Michael made up, but there is a big difference between watching someone work and having a full-blown relationship with them. Why would you have reason to feel guilty?”

“September 17th,” he replied, easily noticing the way she tensed in fear at the reminder. “Michael and I hadn’t been hanging out as much as usual, so we were supposed to meet at the Crashdown after school for a quick bite to eat. He never showed up but since you were working I decided to stay anyway. I was looking over the menu while you got my Cherry Coke, and before I knew what was happening, those two men stood up and the gun was going off.” Her tensing had quickly turned to trembling, so he tenderly slid his hand up to the back of her neck and cradled her in his arms, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her as she nestled into him for protection against the horrifying memories. No matter how painful this may be, she had a right to know the truth. “As soon as they left the restaurant I scrambled out of the booth and ran in the direction of the bullet, by the soda machine. I approached the counter and the first thing I saw was your order pad on the floor, covered in red. I thought you were…” he trailed off, unable to say the words. “I nearly lost it until I realized that you weren’t even in the main part of the restaurant and that the red on your order pad was nothing more than ketchup from a broken bottle.”

“I had just been there,” she confirmed in a shaky voice. “I was cursing under my breath at Mrs. Delgado because she had insisted on having powdered creamer for her coffee. I tossed my order pad down on the counter and stalked off into the back room to find some.” Burying her head deeper into his chest she muttered in a ghostly whisper, “I would have been right there otherwise. I would have died on the floor of the Crashdown.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he adamantly vowed as he placed tiny reverent kisses wherever he could reach, tears stinging his eyes for the second time that night. “I never would have let that happen. I would have healed you in front of all those people without a second thought if it meant saving your life.”

His steadfast affirmation and loving attention slowed her shaking considerably. She tilted her face up to meet his, allowing him free reign to continue his adoring, life-affirming comfort. All her thoughts and emotions of that day suddenly slammed into him, and he was forced to break the connection he had formed to escape her heartwrenching terror at the thought he might be hurt. He had been gone by the time she came running from the back room, and despite that assurance and the pandemonium that greeted her her thoughts still had been only of him. If he had died she would never have the opportunity to find out how it felt to be held in his arms and kissed by him, never would see those soulful eyes drink in her very essence, never would have the chance to feel the wonderful sensation of joining hearts and bodies with the only boy she had ever dreamed of loving that way.

“You would have taken that chance? You would have risked your life for me?” she asked, her question breaking through his haze.

“Please don’t admire me for being noble,” he candidly answered. “I would have done it for purely selfish reasons.”

“That doesn’t make you a hypocrite, Max,” she softly consoled as she lovingly brushed his lips with hers. “That makes you human.”

“I just couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without you in it,” he tried to explain. “When I realized how close I had come to losing you I decided that, pact be damned, I would tell you the truth about me. Once the immediate danger was over though I lost my resolve, so instead of returning the order pad to you as I had intended I kept it. When I found out a couple of months later that Michael had gambled everything for…a dog, I just lost it. I told him my anger came from him taking such a stupid risk, but after weeks of giving him the silent treatment Maria finally called me on it. It had been so easy for him to open up to her, and I was jealous because even the thought of you dying hadn’t been enough for me to take a chance with you.”

“Max, you can’t compare your situation to Michael’s. He and Maria were already together before she found out the truth. You didn’t have that kind of security. I knew how nervous I was when I asked you to come stargazing with me, so I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you, knowing you had so much more at stake.”

“That night on your balcony was the closest I came to telling you the truth, but then I chickened out again. When I got home I was pretty torn about what to do, “he confessed. “That’s when I changed the order pad into your journal. It had been a reminder of all the secrets and emotions that I couldn’t bring myself to share with you, so it seemed only fitting to make it a place for you to record your own private thoughts and feelings.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me,” she marveled as the gentle brush of her lips deepened into a passionate demonstration of her gratitude.

He was a little startled when she moved her legs and straddled his hips, an embarrassed concern that he would not be able to control his body’s natural reaction to such close physical contact with her making him uneasy. That concern only increased when she took his hands and placed them on her sides, his thumbs resting precariously close to the perfectly sized breasts he had fantasized of tasting so many times. Had she seen those fantasies? Did she have any idea the havoc she was wreaking on him? He squeezed his eyes shut at the onslaught of emotions that came over him as she tilted his head back to the position in which she had originally found him, the silky strands that framed her face falling forward in a tickling manner as she continued kissing him with a hunger he was surprised she possessed.

Instinctively his hand came up and pulled the pin loose from the bun in her hair, the craving to run his fingers through the thick dark mass too overpowering to resist as his other hand held her in place to enthusiastically take advantage of her aggressiveness. Flashes materialized before him with unparalleled clarity, the intimate nature of some almost more than he could bear. Her belief that he had made love to her with his simple kisses. Her own creative imaginings as she focused her attention on him during Speech class. Her dreams of removing his Monday sweater to explore the flesh underneath.

The most surprising image was a familiar one, the one he had seen with their first kiss, only from her point of view.

She could see the eagerness in his eyes as she untied the belt loosely holding the rose-print robe he had fashioned just for her. Before the silk material fluttering down her body even had a chance to hit the floor he had scooped her up and carried her to their bed. She would never tire of being adored this way, his hands touching her as if she were a china doll even as his lips demanded the throaty moans that never failed to wrench his control from him. She savored the awed possessiveness with which he pulled her tightly against him as their bodies meshed together, moving so perfectly that she knew unequivocally they had been made only for each other. Her last vestige of restraint was shattered when he nuzzled her neck, easily finding the place that nearly drove her straight to her peak. She could feel him smile with delight as she vocalized her immense appreciation for his talent, his affectionate nips pushing her over the edge as they gave in to the ultimate ecstasy of their joining.

The tone of the images twisted drastically then, the enormous weight of her sadness crushing him as jumbled thoughts became interspersed with the confusing pictures playing out in his mind. His mother’s face the night she had to surrender him to the state, her fear that she would lose the children who had so quickly become the center of her universe permeating the air as he clung to the rose-print scarf she had loosened from around her neck. Michael’s and Isabelle’s awed faces as they explored the cave that held their incubation pods and the artifacts of an alien homeworld. Starman. ‘I must go.’ ‘Take me with you.’ ‘I cannot.’ ‘Please.’ ‘You will die there.’ ‘Do you think I care?’ ‘I care. Now, tell me again…how to say goodbye.’ ‘Kiss me, and tell me you love me.’ ‘I love you.’ ‘I’m never gonna see you again, am I?’ ‘No.’

It only took a second for him to recognize that the dampness raining down on his face was coming from her tears. Breaking the kiss he guided her head to rest on his shoulder as he whispered soothing words, curious to find out exactly what was going on in that head of hers.

“That’s why you wanted me to see that movie,” she whispered in anguish, “and why you showed me where that star was in the sky. It wasn’t a star at all. It was your homeworld, Antar, and you’ll have to go back there someday, won’t you?”

Her question stunned him almost beyond words. He just assumed that Maria had told her everything she knew regarding his otherworldly origins. Lovingly stroking her hair he assured, “With this beautiful, amazing girl in my arms? Why would I even think of doing such a foolish silly thing?”

“How can you be sure you won’t change your mind some day?” she pleaded. “What if your real family comes back to take you home?”

He stilled his movements in her hair to tenderly grasp her shoulders, his mood shifting between melancholy and amusement. She finally sat back far enough to meet his gaze, and the distress he saw there compelled him to waste no time setting the record straight. “The only home I want is the one I see when I look into your eyes,” he venerated, “and as for Antar, I’m sure by now that it no longer exists.”

“No longer exists?” she whispered in horror. “Oh, Max, I had no idea. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He cut her apology off with a single finger pressed to her lips. “I’ll have none of that,” he chastised. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“How long has it been…gone?” she hesitantly asked after she took his hand from her face and pressed a tender kiss to his palm.

“I don’t really know,” he replied. “The information we found in the pod chamber just said that our planet was dying. We were brought here by our families to try to salvage part of our race, even though they knew that we would have to be mostly human in order to survive.”

“What happened to your families?”

“They were full-blooded Antarian and didn’t survive Earth’s atmosphere for very long.”

“So they made you a hybrid,” she analyzed, “part human and part…Antarian?”

“Yeah, that’s about it,” he said with a gentle smile.

“Are there other hybrids besides you, Isabelle, and Michael?”

“Not on Earth,” he explained. “Antar was divided into nine provinces. Each province chose four…beings to be genetically mixed with a compatible race and sent to planets in various solar systems. We were chosen for Earth.”

“So you were someone else before you came here?” she asked with trepidation. “You’ve lived another life?”

“No,” he clarified. “Antar’s scientists believed the best chance for our species to adapt would be to mix the equivalent of an Antarian embryo with a human one. It’s a lot more complicated than that because they used many more of the human components than the Antarian ones, but basically they did some fancy gene splicing. They threw us into pods to mature and decades later here I am. And I can promise you that I’m not going anywhere.”

The smile that brightened her features was dazzling. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”

It was impossible not to respond to her heartfelt admission, so he pulled her into his embrace once again and showered her with adoring little kisses. He could feel the joy bubbling up inside of her, but then like a dimmer switch it faded into the background as a darker emotion overtook her.

“You said four were sent here,” she observed uneasily. “What happened to the fourth person?”

“She was Michael’s sister. Her pod must have been damaged in the crash because she never emerged. She died while she was still a baby,” he sadly remarked. “It took us several years to find the cave that held the pods, but once we did we gave her a proper funeral.”

She rested her forehead against his and wordlessly comforted him. The death had affected him almost as much as it had Michael, and somehow she had known it without even having to ask. The fact that she was so in tune with him would have come as a stunning surprise a few weeks ago, but now that he knew she had been pining away for him almost as long as he had been interested in her it just felt supremely right.

Refusing to dwell on the pain of the past he gave her a gentle smile and asked, “So how does it feel to have an entire planet named after you?”

“Incredible,” she shyly admitted. “Actually, a lot more incredible now that I know it’s not just some randomly assigned star.” Giving him a skeptical look she added, “Which is usually what happens when you request that a star be named after someone. How did you manage to get the National Star Registry to give you your planet?”

“I emailed them the coordinates and asked,” he said with a shrug. “It wasn’t taken yet, so they said as long as I paid the registration fee that day they would give it to me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t spend any money on my gifts,” she remarked with suspicion.

Rubbing her nose with his he smugly replied, “I haven’t. At least not yet. My parents let me charge it to their credit card, so technically I won’t spend the money until I pay for it next month.”

“That’s very sneaky of you,” she feebly complained.

“Isn’t being sneaky what the whole Secret Santa program is about?” he inquired.

“Yes, but you do it so well,” she admired, “among other things.”

His brows raised automatically as he repeated, “Other things?”

“Let’s see,” she said as she counted on her fingers. “Chocolatier, sculptor, astronomer, book binder, carpenter, jeweler, tailor.” Leaning into him she teasingly nipped at his lower lip and added in a low seductive tone, “I’ve seen the results of your exceptional talents, but if you don’t mind I want a demonstration that takes a more hands-on approach.” With that she placed his fingers on the upper edge of the burgundy sweater she was wearing, and when he gave her a questioning look she demurely smiled and undid the first button, beckoning for him to continue.
SansuCry
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 12
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm

Twelve Days Part 15

Post by SansuCry »

Well, I honestly didn’t think it would be this long before I posted the next part. The day after the baby’s party (click here for a cute pic) the poor girl got the flu. Then I got it. Then she got an ear infection. Then I got better. Then she got better. Then I got worse. Then she got worse. Now we’re both recovering—very slowly. Needless to say, I can’t wait for summer to get here. This has been a long, harsh flu season, and I can’t wait for it to be over.

Meanwhile, this story just keeps growing. My muse had very different ideas about what I thought would take only one more part to write, and since she’s an all or nothing kinda gal I had to listen to her. Some of this and the next part pushes that PG-13 rating into the R, but that applies more to the images your mind may conjure up than the actual words themselves. So although it isn’t written that way I guess some of you smut-minded folk **cough**Phae**cough** could easily make it NC-17.

I guess you’ll have to judge for yourself….


Part 15

“Liz,” he huskily whispered, “I’m not sure we should be doing this.”

“Trust me, Max,” she quietly commanded.

He let out a nervous laugh before admitting, “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

“I won’t let things go too far,” she assured him with a lingering kiss that promised he would have so much more, “for now, anyway. But starting tomorrow, all bets are off.”

He was amazed by what she was implying. This was everything he had ever dreamed of, yet he was relieved that she had qualified her statement. In all his fantasies of their first time together it was always thorough and unhurried. He would spend hours learning every inch of her body, enthusiastically discovering where she liked his touch the most, what parts of her tasted the sweetest, and the best places to kiss to make her moan with desire for him, before he finally surrendered to the need to completely possess her body as she possessed his soul. It certainly didn’t include rushing to get it over with before the rest of his family returned home, nor did it happen on the couch in his parents’ living room.

Still, he couldn’t resist taking whatever she chose to offer him, even if it meant using every ounce of his restraint to stop when she asked him to. His last bit of reluctance rapidly slipping away he undid the next button and the next, closing his eyes to relish her unique scent as he moved his mouth closer to sample the bare flesh his fingers were eager to expose. Expecting to feel the slight swell of her breast where it mounded over her bra, he was more than a little surprised when his lips encountered another layer of fabric instead, a soft cotton tank top in a deep red tone that perfectly matched the sweater he was now impatiently removing from her shoulders.

As soon as she was free of the garment she climbed from his lap and headed toward the box of gifts, quickly retrieving the angora sweater and draping it over her arm with the one he had just stripped from her. “You have a full-length mirror in you bedroom, don’t you?” she cryptically asked.

Unable to form any coherent words he mutely nodded his reply, his sight never wandering from the breathtaking view she was giving him. She was definitely not wearing anything underneath that tank top. A tiny voice in the back of his mind said he should be ashamed of his very obvious admiration of her, but as she approached him and he accepted the hand she offered, his mind was instantly filled with her own thoughts on the subject. Instead of feeling insulted by his overly appreciative stare, as she would have if it were being given by anyone else, she was amused to discover why the black sweater she was holding fit her so well.

With a light tug on their clasped hands she commanded him to follow her toward his bedroom, and despite her assurance that today was not the day to consummate their physical relationship he had no doubt that once they passed through that doorway they would take the first steps down a life altering path. The thought both thrilled and scared him.

As if sensing his apprehension Liz stopped just short of entering the room and turned to calm him. She released his hand to reach up and thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling his face down until his eyes met hers, she gave him a light, tender kiss before assuring in a soothing tone, “Don’t be afraid, Max.”

That simple consolation made him realize how ridiculous it was to be frightened of what he had wanted more than anything else on Earth. Liz Parker had not run away. In spite of the fact that he was an alien she was still here, wanting to touch him and be touched by him, kissing him with a passion he had only dreamed of, and silently promising that his many fantasies of making love to her would all come true in time.

Energized by that revelation he took her hand back in his and nearly dragged her into the room, taking the sweaters from her and tossing them onto the bed before wrapping his arms firmly around her, one hand boldly cupping her behind to hold her hips tightly against his while the other curved around her ribcage, his fingertips grazing the edge of her breast where it swelled against his chest. Without faltering he swarmed down to take her lips in a scorching kiss, his tongue carrying out a meticulous exploration of her mouth before venturing down the soft inviting column of her throat to lave the sensitive place he had discovered in the shared flash of their desired future. The throaty moan of his name reverberated in his chest as she breathed it into his ear, the raw sensuality in her voice extracting an answering sound of his own.

“Wow,” she mirthfully whispered when he finally loosened his grip on her, the surprise at his sudden fervor obvious in the dark aroused eyes that stared up at him. “I wasn’t expecting a hands-on demonstration like that.”

“You did have me undress you,” he bantered playfully as he admired the dozens of multicolored Christmas lights sparkling across her pale skin in the otherwise lightless room, “and then seduced me into following you to my bedroom. How could you not expect me to ravish you?”

“Mmm, I’m not complaining,” she countered, “but we do have a dance to attend in less than an hour. Besides, I don’t think we should be here when Isabelle and your parents return, especially looking like this.”

“You still want to go to the dance?” he asked in amazement.

“Of course,” she coyly answered as she squirmed out of his embrace. Taking the angora sweater off of the bed and holding it out to him she added, “That’s assuming you will help me get ready.”

Before he could even unfold the black garment that had once been his she was on the other side of the room, standing in front of the mirror with a come hither look that in no way disguised her zeal to have him join her.

He eagerly complied with the silent request, striding over to stand behind her as she perused her own reflection. She closed her eyes and automatically tilted her head back against his chest before holding her right arm out to her side. Unable to resist the temptation of so much bare skin he took her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. Beginning with a tender kiss to her palm he trailed his lips over her wrist and forearm, concentrating on the extra sensitive flesh in the crook of her elbow as he encouraged her fingers to thread into his hair.

He continued this loving attention until he felt her breathing become labored, both unable and unwilling to stop the proud grin that crossed his lips as he gave her a few seconds to compose herself. He couldn’t quite tell which of them was enjoying this more. Anxious to find out he removed her hand from the nape of his neck and slid it through the sleeve of the sweater until her lower arm was covered. He repeated the motion with her other hand, leaving the sweater’s shoulders draped between her elbows like a shawl so that he could once again take advantage of her exposed flesh.

This time he concentrated his kisses on her upper arms, one hand curling her hair in his fingers while languidly working his way over a nearly naked shoulder to lightly trace the indentation of her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. Knowing he would never tire of hearing her whisper his name so adoringly, he once again gave special treatment to the place on her throat that made her so responsive to him, marveling when he discovered that a similar location on the opposite side of her neck was just as susceptible to his ministrations.

The feel of her deep passionate moans vibrating against his lips struck him with a sudden possessiveness to claim her as his, and he began to deepen the hold his mouth had on her sweet skin until a troubling thought entered his mind. Was this safe for her? What if something weird happened when he marked her? Just because he was genetically engineered to be mostly human didn’t guarantee they were physically compatible. Even full-blooded humans sometimes had trouble with mixing blood types, so who knew what the possible side effects were of being with someone like him? There was certainly no basis for comparison outside of Michael and Maria’s experiences, and he hadn’t even though to ask them about any strange occurrences they may have encountered. The disturbing image of him trying to explain a glowing hickey, or even worse, to Liz’s parents made him recoil in horror.

Liz quickly shrugged the sweater onto her shoulders and grabbed his hands before he had a chance to move farther away from her, her insistent grasp returning him to his flush position behind her. Meeting his eyes in the mirror she echoed with a reserved smile, “Max Evans, outside of a permanent grounding if we’re caught here alone in your bedroom, I refuse to believe that anything terrible could come from loving you.”

“Would you care to convince me of that?” he sardonically asked, his discontent with his otherworldly origins beginning to surface again.

“That’s exactly what I plan to do,” she answered, smoothing their clasped hands over her hips and up her stomach until they settled at the top edge of the sweater, the pleasant weight of her cotton and angora-clad breasts resting against his palms.

His eyes drank in the sensual image in the mirror, darting between meeting her heated gaze and examining how incredibly amazing they looked together. Even through two layers of clothing her soft flesh felt so warm and perfect in his hands that he truly believed they had been made for each other. Breathing in the strawberry-vanilla scent of her hair, he nuzzled her temple before saying in a desire-laden tone, “I like your idea of a hands-on demonstration much better.”

Licking her lip in that nervous gesture he so adored she removed her hands from his and raised them to wrap around his neck, the movement causing her to shift enticingly beneath his fingers. “Actually,” she said with a clever smile as she turned to taste his bottom lip, “we’re not quite ready for the real hands-on part.”

“Then what do you call this?” he questioned with a gentle squeeze of his hands, his left thumb lazily toying with one of the sweater’s buttons as he trailed several worshipful kisses over her cheek and down the side of her neck with a deliberately light touch.

“I call it getting ready for the dance,” she hazily corrected, “and convincing you that you aren’t going to hurt me. Now, if you don’t mind, will you please button up my sweater?”

“And if I do mind?” he seductively whispered against her ear, “do I get to strip you naked and have my way with you?”

“There’s nothing I’d enjoy more,” she answered as her voice took on a rich, contented tone, “but do you really want me out on the middle of the dance floor with no clothes on? Think of how many guys would be staring at me, not to mention the fact that it might get a little drafty. I could catch a cold.”

“Then I’d have a chance to demonstrate my expert bedside manner,” he countered as he pressed closer to her, no longer afraid to show her the intense physical effect she had on him. “I’m very good with my hands, you know.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said light-heartedly.

“Only you, Liz,” he reverently vowed. “It has always been only you.”

His profound testament stirred a new wave of desire in both of them, his previously tender kisses ardently transformed into a sensual imitation of the pleasures they would doubtlessly share some day. He would not deny how much he enjoyed this newfound intimacy, and just when it seemed that ‘some day’ may be just minutes away, he reluctantly shook off his impassioned haze to break the kiss and let out an exaggerated sigh. “All right,” he acquiesced as he confidently moved his fingers to do her bidding, intentionally grazing her gentle curves as he buttoned his way down her front. A thrill ran through him as he beheld the blissful expression on the angelic face in the mirror, his own eyes crescenting with happiness when her corresponding thoughts gratifyingly invaded his mind.

As his hands came to rest on her hips she reached down and took his right one in hers, her thumb automatically stroking the hypersensitive flesh of his palm. “Are you ready for the real hands-on part?” she calmly questioned.

He managed a quiet “yes”, his voice sounding much more certain than he felt as his mind raced with hundreds of ideas of what she had planned.

Guiding his hand underneath her sweater and tank top she flattened his palm against the bare skin of her stomach before withdrawing hers to place it outside the layers of material. His breath hitched in his throat as she tenderly explained, “You have to touch me.”

This time he could only nod his understanding, his anxiousness as he awaited her next instruction manifesting itself in the caressing movement of his hand over her warm flesh.

She tightened her fingers in his hair and waited for his gaze to move from where his hand disappeared under her clothing up to meet her eyes in the mirror. “You have to look at me,” she commanded with affection. When he gave her a second nod she added, “Now take deep breaths, and let your mind blank out.”

He thought of questioning the strange order until her lashes fluttered shut for a brief second. When they reopened they shined with nervous uncertainty. “Please trust me, Max,” she softly implored. “Whatever you see or feel, please don’t lose focus.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and made a production of taking several deep breaths. She immediately mimicked his action until they were breathing in unison, each subsequent intake of air shallower and steadier than the one before it. A few seconds later his mind automatically blanked out, and in the next instant he could feel himself being pulled into a connection he knew he had not initiated. The images flying at him were disorganized and a little muddled at first, but Liz’s accompanying emotions were as clear as if they were his own. Forcing himself to concentrate on those, the pictures flashing through his mind settled into a recognizable pattern that awed him beyond reason.



The two of them standing in front of his mirror as they had been seconds earlier, her hands possessively threaded into his hair as he lovingly caressed her body through the soft thickness of the angora sweater.

Restlessly lounging in front of her locker the day she received the angora sweater, her excitement over the gift increasing tenfold when he revealed his own appreciation for the item.

The angora sweater being carefully held in her arms as she examined its inconsistent labeling.

The light tender touches he had used to play with the angora sweater’s sleeve during their movie date last Saturday night.

Her unsuccessful attempts to not gape with raw feminine appreciation as he entered biology class wearing what she called his Monday sweater, thoughts that she wanted to experiment with kissing him until they achieved a perfect result blatantly crossing her mind.

The day at the Sears store in Hondo when she had wished a boy would give her his sweater to wear, not even daring to hope that boy would be her handsome, soulful-eyed lab partner.




The images made it clear that she knew how he had created the angora sweater, but before he had the chance to further analyze that fact he was assaulted with a new set of flashes, ones that he knew had never happened. Not yet, anyway…



The two of them in the eraser room, mouths dueling for ardent supremacy as her small yet accomplished hands explored the tautly muscled flesh hidden underneath his Monday sweater and beyond.

Coming home from a late afternoon college class to find her stretched out in his bed, wearing nothing but the Monday sweater. Not the first time he had discovered such an tempting treat waiting for him, he wasted no time tunneling below the black knitted material to caress her where she liked his touch the most, to savor the sweetest parts of her, to deluge her with moan inducing kisses until there was nothing left to do but wrench the obtrusive garment from her and surrender to the ultimate intimacy they both craved, whispered words of devotion harmoniously echoing through their hearts and minds as they indulged their endless passion for each other.

The breathtaking specter of her modeling an intricately beaded wedding gown, unsteady fingers struggling through her dark silken strands to insert the flawless pearls into her delicate ears.

Lying together in their marriage bed, his eager hands memorizing the luscious curves hidden below her rose-print nightgown.

Snuggled up together in front of the fireplace in their new home, the two of them staring at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree as his hands lovingly caressed the well-worn Monday sweater covering her pregnancy swollen belly.

The gleam of the Movado’s watchband from between her tightly clamped fingers, her deep, labored breathing alternating with shorter puffs of air as she nervously timed her contractions, each of his encouraging thoughts and phrases providing her strength to endure the discomfort.




His mind swarming with the images of the future she was certain they would share, he nearly broke the connection with his desire to immediately begin bringing the incredible scenes to life. Recalling her poignant request to remain focused he resisted the urge, again concentrating on her visual efforts.



The two of them walking hand in hand down the hallways of West Roswell High, the jealous outrage on Pam Troy’s face causing the couple to let out amused chuckles as the arrogant girl glowered at Liz in the warm confines of his Monday sweater.

She was standing in front of him, his eyes fervently drinking in her beautiful form. The long burgundy skirt was slit on the side, exposing just enough of her shapely leg to be elegantly alluring. The subtle delineation of her graceful features under his Monday sweater only enhanced her desirability, the casualness of the garment easily offset by the dark red lace teddy peeking out from its deeply V’d neckline. Her silky hair reflected the pale light of the dance floor in such a way that it looked like a curtain framing the perfect features of her stunning face, the pearls gracing the ends of her ears accentuating her flawless skin.

Staring down at the thick, bulky sweater he had just finished converting into the soft angora one he planned to give her, the images suddenly flickered erratically then progressed as though he were watching a movie in reverse. His powers centralized and then flowed through him as each adjustment he had made, every little modification came undone bit by meticulous bit before his startled eyes until he was left with the garment in its original form.




“Liz?” he gasped in utter confusion, remembering too late that she had wanted his complete attention.

“It’s all right, Max,” she assured. “You can open your eyes now.”

It took him a second to realize that his eyes had indeed become closed sometime during their unusual encounter, and once he did force his lashes to flutter open he needed yet another second to adjust to the room’s subtle light.

“So what do you think?” she mischievously asked. “Not bad for my very first attempt, huh?”

He automatically returned to taking the deep breaths he had been inhaling at the onset of their connection, afraid that he might pass out if he didn’t. He couldn’t hide the shocked expression that clouded his features as he gaped at the incredulous image reflected back at him in the mirror. His right hand was still caressing the flat of her stomach, precisely where she had left it, except that now it was buried underneath the heavy, thick V-neck sweater he had persuaded his mother to buy him from Sears, the article of clothing Liz liked to call his Monday sweater.

“What happened?” he numbly questioned, too stunned to say much else.

“This was the one gift that meant so much more to me in its original form that I had to have it changed back,” she calmly explained. “I’ve wanted you to give it to me since the first Monday you wore it to school, so that everyone would know that I’m your girl.”

“But…how?” he quizzically inquired, hoping she would understand exactly what he was asking as he continued to stare in disbelief.

“You asked me to not make you change your gifts back into what they were,” she timidly commented with a blush to her cheeks, “so I changed this one myself.”

“What did you say?” he incredulously demanded, positive he had not heard her correctly.

“I formed a connection with you,” she elaborated nonchalantly, “and then I used your powers to change my angora sweater back into your Monday sweater.”

“What do you mean you used my powers?” he asked with rapidly escalating concern.

“I tried to bring up memories and dreams that revolved around your sweater until your memory of changing it came up. Once I saw how you did it, I concentrated on focusing your energy to flow through me so I could change it back.”

As the shock of what she was saying hit him full force he spun her around in his arms and began to frantically search her body for any signs of damage. “God Liz, how could you do something so crazy?”

She quickly grabbed his wandering hands and clutched them to her chest, the abruptness of the action automatically drawing his worried eyes to her serene face. “I’m fine, Max,” she vehemently assured him. “Michael and Isabelle told me what to expect.”

“How could they know? Were they positive you wouldn’t be hurt?” he anxiously demanded. “Have either of them done that before?”

“Not really,” she sheepishly admitted. “Michael and Maria did try it earlier today, but Maria couldn’t keep her concentration up. She kept busting out laughing.”

He tugged his hands free from her grasp to cup the sides of her face. His eyes burning with distress he pleaded, “Why would you even think about doing something like that when you don’t know what could have happened?”

She reached up to trace his lips with her thumb. “I told you that I refuse to believe anything terrible could come from loving you. What better way to convince you of that, to show you that I love every part of you, than by sharing the things that makes us the most different?” Standing on tiptoes to follow the path her thumb had drawn with her tongue she left no room to doubt her meaning when she throatily added, “And now that I’ve felt your energy coursing through me, I’m looking forward to the day when I have the rest of you inside of me as well.”

He wasn’t sure whether it was her seductive words or her complete confidence in his inability to harm her, but he could no longer find reason to worry over what she had done. Instead he was filled with awe as he discovered that the reality of being in love with Liz Parker was so much better than any dream ever could be. “Thank you,” he hoarsely whispered against her soft full lips. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me the most precious gift on Earth.”

With that he covered her mouth with his and showed her exactly how grateful he was for the unconventional demonstration of her love for him, amazement over how incredible his dreamgirl really was increasing by the second. There was no way to conclusively know whether his alien energy would have harmed her, yet she had willingly taken it into her body to prove her devotion. Not only that, but she had given him such beautiful glimpses of the life she wanted them to share that his final present would now have much more significance than if he had given it as her anonymous Secret Santa.

Torn between his desire to continue kissing her and his wish to bestow the special gift upon her he gave several languorous sweeps of his tongue before reluctantly pulling away. Her tousled hair, adorably flushed cheeks and tempting kiss swollen lips made her appear more exquisite than ever, the sparkling smile lighting up her eyes reflecting the love and adoration also present on the masculine face in the mirror. Bracing his arms on her shoulders in a silent request to remain where she was, he waited until she gave him a consenting nod before turning away from her. Dreading being parted for even a moment, he rushed over to his dresser, grabbed the requisite card and small beautifully decorated box from inside the top drawer, and quickly returned to her side. He held the items out to her, praying she would take them before his hand began to shake with his nervousness.

She accepted both with a surprised smile as she jovially remarked, “After all you went through to keep your identity a secret, delivering this in person must seem pretty…anti-climactic.”

The comment caused him to let out a tensed breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and when his eyes met hers he discovered that she had intentionally made the jest to get him to relax. He flashed her an appreciative smile and eagerly accepted her outstretched hand. She tugged him toward the bed and once there insistently pushed him down to sit on the edge. Climbing into his lap she guided his arms around her and gave him a drawn out kiss before turning her attention to the card and present in her hand.

“Because you have owned my heart since the moment I first laid eyes on you,” she choked out in an emotionally charged voice as she smoothed the note out over her knee and read it aloud. “Oh, Max, that is just so…”

“You haven’t even opened the present yet,” he teased with a gentle kiss to her temple.

She pointed to the neat fluid handwriting that distinguished this loving devotion from the others. “I always thought that the best part of my Secret Santa’s gifts were the beautiful notes that accompanied them, but at the same time I felt terribly guilty because I wished they were from you.”

“And now?” he hesitantly asked.

“Now that I know the story behind all the gifts,” she shifted to whisper in his ear, “the notes are even more special.” Pressing tender kisses along the length of his neck she added, “But they still aren’t as beautiful or special to me as you are. I love you, Max Evans, and just knowing that you love me back is the best gift I ever could have asked for.”

His hands automatically tightened around her as he nuzzled the side of her face then hid his grateful tears in the crook of her neck, praising fate and divine intervention and all the other powers responsible for sending him to this of all planets.

“I guess I’d better open this now,” she quietly commented as she blindly fumbled with the small box, “or the dance will be over before we even get there.”

He dried his dampened cheeks on the shoulder of her sweater before withdrawing from the comforting embrace, a rush of pride jolting his heart as the sudden awareness that ‘her’ sweater was actually his finally began to sink in. Aimlessly caressing her sides he had to admit that the bulky V-neck somehow fit her better than the meticulously tailored angora ever had.

“Oh my….this is…..I’ve never….” she stuttered as she caught the first glimpse of the item inside. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. The colors are….unbelievable.”

“Do you really like it?” he timidly inquired.

“Like it? Max, this has to be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” she replied with an enthusiastic kiss. “Will you please put it on me?”

Relieved that she seemed to truly appreciate his handiwork, his voice was still tentative as he answered, “There is something I think you should know about it first.”
SansuCry
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 12
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm

Part 16

Post by SansuCry »

It seems like at the rate I'm going I'll be lucky to have this fic done before the 4th of July! Honestly, I only have one more part planned after this one, and as long as RL and my family's health cooperate it shouldn't take me another three and a half weeks to post it.

I want to thank all my faithful bumpers. You make it a lot easier to find this story since I keep forgetting to bookmark it.

To the new readers I've picked up, thank you for taking the time to click on the link that those bumpers have kept visible.

And finally to the loyal readers I've picked up since I posted the first part to Eyes of Fear almost two years ago, :shock: thank you for continuing to inspire me to write. As long as there is a Roswell fanfic board for me to post on I will do my best to keep the Dream of Season 1 Max and Liz alive. It may take me years to write a story, but I promise to always finish it. :wink:



Part 16


Sensing the reason behind his anxiousness she inquisitively questioned, “What did you make this from?”

With a reluctant breath he elaborated, “Several small pieces of our damaged spaceship were left in the cave. I used one of them to make the chain. There are three thousand forty-two individual links intertwined together, one link for each day from the first time I saw you on August 25, 1992 until today.”

“Max…” she whispered, obviously awestruck.

He pressed a finger to her lips in a bid for silence, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to contain his nervousness for much longer. “That’s not really the important part,” he hastily explained. “The thing is….”

His heart crashed against his ribs over and over like a wild animal trying to escape its first encounter with the restricting bars of a steel cage. Once she had realized he was telling her the truth she had easily accepted his alienness. Her not so little sweater demonstration was proof that she not only accepted it, but also embraced it. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but worry that she might feel differently once he told her the rest.

Knowing there was only one way to find out he took a steadying breath and continued, “My Antarian family came from the province that held the planet’s capital city. Antar was ruled under a democracy, but at one time there had been a royal family. The family was held in high regards for turning control of the planet over to its citizens. Because of this the people still acknowledged its members sort of as figureheads, like England does.” In a final apprehensive rush he blurted out, “Isabelle and I were chosen to be hybridized because we were part of that royal family.”

“You mean…that you’re…a….a….?” she stuttered in sheer surprise.

“Isabelle would have been a princess,” he confirmed, “and I would have been born a prince.”

“A prince. That’s….wow,” was all she could get out initially. After a few moments of carefully scrutinizing him she smiled sweetly and uttered in admiration, “I’m in love with an alien prince.”

“Now that my parents are gone and I’m technically the oldest, I guess that would actually mean I’m a king.” Morosely he added, “King of a planet that no longer exists.”

Her tender kisses over his forehead and cheeks told him that she knew he was mourning the loss of an entire civilization rather than any privilege being a king may have held. Trying to distract him from his sadness she asked, “What about Michael and his sister? Were they from an important family, too?”

“Michael and Ava, that was the name she had been given on Antar, were the children of the head of the ruling council. The people of each respective province chose the pairs sent to the other solar systems. Some were from artisan families like painters and musicians, others historians, even several farmers and laborers.”

“Were you given a name on Antar?”

“Zan,” he softly remarked as the rarely spoken word rolled off his tongue. “Antarian for ‘son of hope’.”

“The others?”

“Isabelle’s name was Vilandra and Michael was Rathan. I don’t know much about the ones sent elsewhere. Outside of the information on our planet’s history, most of the things we found in the cave related only to us.”

“And one or two of those things have to do with this heart necklace,” she concluded. “Is that why the coloring is so unusual?”

Slowly nodding he remarked, “The heart is made from a rare Antarian jewel that has been passed down to the firstborn child in my family for generations. It is known as the Khivara.”

“The Khivara?” she echoed.

“Yes,” he acknowledged through the uneasy lump forming in his throat. “It means bonding stone. If I were on Antar I would present it to my chosen mate, most likely on the day of our commitment ceremony, which is our form of a wedding. From that moment on I would be permanently bonded to her.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘bonded’?” she questioned with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

“She is the only one I would ever be able to mate with.”

“Mate? As in ‘make love’ mate?”

He simply nodded.

“And she could only mate with you?” she asked with an analytical frown.

“No. The bond is only enforced upon the one who offers the Khivara.”

“So what if something happens and you don’t stay together? Are you just stuck being alone the rest of your life?” she skeptically inquired.

“Even if she were to die before me, I would not be able to mate with another,” he verified. “Once the Khivara is offered the bond is eternal.”

“Once it is offered?” she implored as her eyes widened in stunned realization. “Max, are you saying that just by giving me this necklace you have bonded yourself to me?”

His lashes automatically fluttered shut as his head bowed in mute confirmation.

The words an amazed whisper she asked the question to which she already knew the answer. “Had you planned this as my final gift all along, even before we got together and you decided to reveal your identity?”

“Yes,” was the quiet reply.

“But that would mean… If we hadn’t….” she stuttered, too astonished to say the words. Finally composing herself she marveled, “You would have ended up spending the rest of your life alone. Why, Max? Why would you bond yourself to me without knowing whether we would even be together?”

After a few seconds of contemplative silence he raised his anguished eyes to hers and answered the only way he could. “You have owned my heart since the first moment I laid eyes on you, and your beautiful smile captured my soul that very same day. Not a second goes by when you do not possess my every thought, and the slightest touch from you stirs my body to life in ways I never imagined were possible. Whether by destiny or fate or divine intervention the truth is that I am already bonded to you. Offering the Khivara is merely a formality.”

Her response was familiar and welcomed, a shower of tender yet confident kisses that were the tantalizingly perfect combination of love and desire. His hand automatically threaded into her hair to keep her lips close to his even as the rest of his fingers burrowed under his Monday sweater to seek out the enticingly soft patch of skin between the bottom of her burgundy tank top and the edge of her faded jeans.

She shifted in his lap until she was straddling him, the box holding the heart necklace firmly in her grip as she continued her increasingly passionate ministrations. When the time came that the need for air outweighed any other desires, she reluctantly slowed her kisses until she was barely nipping his lower lip. Repeating her earlier line she huskily commented, “I bet you say those things to all the girls.”

“Only you, Liz,” he vowed with a gentle rub of his nose against hers. “It has always been only you,” he continued as he nuzzled her cheek. “It will always be only you,” he concluded with a trail of scorching love bites that ended at the base of her throat.

“In that case,” her admonishing voice notified the rainbow-hued ceiling, “this Khivara is definitely in the wrong place.”

Silently directing her to keep her head tilted back he combed his fingers out of her hair to take the box from her now trembling grasp. Setting it down on the bed he carefully removed the necklace and expertly undid the clasp with one hand. Returning his mouth to her throat he kissed a path for the chain to follow around her neck, removing his hand from her back only long enough to hook the unique creation beneath a cascade of silken chocolate on the first try.

He leaned back to admire the two beautiful gems in front of him, consciously appreciating how rare and precious they both were. “Almost perfect,” he mumbled in a deep resonant tone.

Her hand self-consciously reached for the jeweled heart centered in the sweater’s deep V. “Almost?” she asked somewhat dejectedly.

Snaking his hand between the sweater and tank top he gave her a searing look before boldly taking the weight of her breast in his hand. His thumb teasing her sensitive flesh through the cotton fabric he challenged, “If I remember your version of your dance outfit correctly, this was covered in dark red lace, was it not?”

“Burgundy,” she said on a staccato gasp of air, her eyes darkening with the desire his touch was generating. “It was burgundy.”

“Well then, burgundy lace it will be,” he agreeably conceded as his other hand slid under the waistband of her jeans to caress the small of her back.

“Max,” she softly moaned when his hand crept a little lower, “what are you doing?”

One finger barely grazing the top of her panties as his thumb made another arousing sweep across her breast he smartly replied, “I have to be touching here and here if you expect me to make a teddy.” Loving to see her response to his intimate caress he added with another brush of his thumb, “If I were only touching here then you would end up with just a camisole.”

Leaning forward into his palm until her hair fell across his face she pressed her lips to his and wryly commented, “You sure seem to know an awful lot about women’s lingerie.”

His cheeks reddened a little as he guiltily admitted, “Isabelle left a Victoria’s Secret catalog laying around a little while back. I had quite a bit of fun picturing you in all those things.”

“Max Evans flipping through the pages of a lingerie catalog? Just like any other horny teenage boy?” she teased. “I guess you’re more normal than you thought.”

“Not really,” he countered deprecatingly. “I’ve heard enough locker room talk to know that I’m even different that way.”

Rotating her hips against him she joked, “Oh, I don’t know. You don’t feel any different to me.” Her jaw dropped a split second later as she realized how that had sounded, so she quickly blurted out, “Not that I have any real experience with guys and their...I mean, as we were growing up Alex would answer some of Maria’s and my questions about….that, but I mean…I’ve never felt…or touched…”

“I get the idea,” he assured as he resisted chuckling at her embarrassment, his heart soaring at how honest they could now be with each other. How he wished things could have been like this years ago, he absently thought. He wouldn’t have spent so much time feeling such agonizing loneliness.

Quickly returning to the present subject he pulled her snugly against him and explained, “Physically I’m the same. For most ‘horny teenage boys’ all it takes is a nice strong wind to get them this way, but for me…only you …or thoughts of you do this to me.”

“At least you’re not always uncomfortable,” she suggested with a meekly raised brow.

“Well, I think about you all the time…” he trailed off, allowing her to draw her own conclusion.

“Really?” she shyly asked. Then her mouth formed a perfect circle as she said, “Ohhhh,” with dawning comprehension. She cringed and tried to climb from his lap as she added, “I guess sitting like this isn’t helping matters any then, is it? Sorry.”

His hand tightened against her backside to keep her in place while he forced himself to concentrate on the original purpose of touching her in such a blatantly sensual manner. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, so quit squirming around. Now if you’ll just relax and give me a little inspiration, I can finish getting you ready for this dance we’re supposed to attend in….twenty-five more minutes.”

“Inspiration, huh?” she questioned as she eased back into his embrace. “Is that the same as persuasion?”

“Exactly the same,” he replied in restless anticipation.

Teasing his lips with her tongue she asked in a breathy tone, “Like this?”

“That’s good for a start,” he said with his own wandering mouth.

“This?” she inquired before maneuvering around his arms to pull his shirt from his pants and languidly unfasten the buttons.

“I need more,” he answered hoarsely.

She began a meticulous exploration of the yielding firmness of his upper body by brushing her fingertips over the dark circles on his chest, spellbound by the mesmerizing scent of his skin as it heated beneath her touch. “This?”

“More.”

Her teeth tentatively sank into his shoulder as her hand smoothed over the flat of his stomach, the inviting sound of her wet kisses on his flesh echoing in the quiet room. “This?”

“More,” he begged in a desperate whisper.

With one final nip she reluctantly lifted her mouth from his thoroughly intoxicated body. Moving her hand lower until she was firmly caressing the other part of him that made them so different, two souls aroused nearly to the point of agony met in one tempestuous gaze. “This?” her eyes silently asked.

“Yes,” he growled as he assailed her with reckless fervor, his mouth desperately tasting and devouring every last inch of her he could reach in their current position.



His eyelids grew heavy with desire as he beheld the enchanting sight of her splayed out under their Christmas tree wearing nothing but the burgundy lace teddy, a tiny matching bow, and a seductive smile that was too inviting to refuse.


Victoria’s Secret page 17: His Dreamgirl wearing a Sheer Mesh Babydoll
Victoria’s Secret page 63: His Soulmate clothed in Silk Charmeuse Pyjamas
Victoria’s Secret page 9: The Love of Life in a Floral Embroidered Bustier


Stretched out naked in his computer chair with her straddling him in her burgundy teddy, he marveled at how easily the lace could be strategically tugged out of the way. Grasping her hips to guide her sensual movements over him, the lovers exchanged vows of eternal devotion and adoration in passionately heated whispers that echoed throughout their hearts and minds.


Victoria’s Secret page 35: His Dreamgirl wearing a Silk Embroidered Cami & Tap Set
Victoria’s Secret page 58: His Soulmate clothed in a Canterbury Ribbon-Strap Chemise
Victoria’s Secret page 21: The Love of His Life dressed in a Vintage-Inspired Embroidered Gown


Feeling her graceful movements underneath the sheets Christmas morning, hidden burgundy lace brushing against his knees as her tongue and lips sampled the sensitive flesh around his navel. “Santa tells me you’ve been a very good boy this year,” her teasing voice vibrated against him.


Victoria’s Secret page 69: His Amazing Finance in a Lace Up Slip distracting him from going to his first class of the day
Victoria’s Secret page 42: His Beautiful Wife prancing around in Cotton & Lace Knit Boyshort Pyjamas after hosting their first New Year’s Party
Victoria’s Secret page 8: His Wonderful Lover delicious enough to eat in a Lace-Cup Silk Gown
Victoria’s Secret page 77: The Mother of His Children looking sexier than ever in a Stretch Lace Gown




She seemed to be everywhere at once, inside him, around him, surrounding and consuming him, and the effect was riveting: he had never felt more alive than he did in this moment. Her heart beat against his palm in endless rhythm with his own, a litany of impassioned declarations in her seductively heady voice echoing in his mind as her beseeching ebony-hazed eyes requested his submission.

His whole body tensed with the awareness that she was asking for total surrender of the individuality he currently held in exchange for an everlasting convergence into half of a magnificent whole, his doubt looming for scarcely a second before he joyfully welcomed her into every fiber of his being. In an instant that seemed to last a lifetime his blissful soul dissolved and melded with hers in exquisite harmony, the ensuing ecstasy of becoming one with his soulmate more intense than any sensation he had ever previously experienced.

As the blinding radiance of their spiritual joining subsided and he once again became aware of his physical state his attempt at a smile that would express his sheer joy was thwarted by the salty-sweet flesh clenched between his teeth. He was greeted with a protesting moan as he withdrew his lips from her neck, shock jarring through him as he realized they were now laying in his bed, his body stretched out on top of hers. Torn between returning his mouth to her neck and scrambling off of her in embarrassment, he remained frozen in place.

“Did you feel that?” she asked in the prolonged silence that followed his discovery, the amazement in her voice apparent even through its shaky timbre.

His hands still seemed to be in their original positions, one secured on her lower back, the other cupping her breast, and despite being more than a little unnerved that he couldn’t recall how he had ended up on top of her, a proud grin automatically spread across his face. The only thing between his palms and her supple skin was a very thin layer of burgundy lace.

Holding her tightly to him he turned them over in the bed as he gently teased her parted lips with his tongue. Once she was above him he boldly swirled his hands over much of the newly formed garment, the fact that he couldn’t actually see his fingers touching her underneath the bulky sweater only adding to his enjoyment. “I’m feeling quite a bit,” his deep voice resonated with wonder, the underlying passionate tone giving his reply a double meaning.

She pushed up just far enough to kiss a scathing path down his neck and over his chest, her enticing body rubbing against his so provocatively that every last one of his cells burned with riotous pleasure. “Max,” she spoke as if his name were an answer to her prayers. “I think…I can feel you in me, inside my soul.”

The startling reality of what had occurred rendered him speechless. Although he had no experience upon which to base a comparison, he had no doubt that what they had shared was otherworldly in origin. Even now he sensed her lingering inside of him, a warm comforting presence seeping into all the places that had been darkened by years of loneliness and solitude. He nearly cried at the splendor of it, and judging from her reverent plea it must have affected her just as intensely.

Mistaking his silence for skepticism she hastily added, “I know that sounds crazy…”

Inching his fingers out from under the sweater to cup her face in his hands he waited until she met his gaze before assuring, “No it doesn’t, because you are inside of me as well.”

Her shining eyes immediately flooded with the jubilant tears he had wanted to shed, and when the first of them trickled down her cheek with the intention of dampening his chest he wasted no time kissing it away. Several more tears made the same attempt before she was finally able to hoarsely whisper against his throat, “Did the Khivara do this?”

He tenderly stroked her hair away from her face before taking the sparkling heart between his finger and thumb. “I would guess so.”

“But how is that even possible?” she asked dumbfounded. “I’m not an alien.”

“You managed to change my sweater back,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, but I used your energy to do it,” she countered. “That just makes me an alien wannabe.”

“Oh, I think you’re a lot more than an alien wannabe now,” he anxiously laughed.

“What do you mean?” she questioned with trepidation.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked, too concerned about his theory to be distracted by her mouth’s usual nervous gesture.

Her head gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“What I told you about the Khivara before was all the information there was on it, so this is just my own theory,” he stalled.

“Max,” she impatiently warned, seeing right through the tactic. “Out with it already.”

In a wavering voice he explained, “I’m pretty sure the Khivara changed you. Accepting it must somehow be the same as agreeing to be my mate. I think you are bonded to me just as I am bonded to you. Permanently.” As her eyes widened with surprise he dropped the heart pendant from his grasp and began a thorough study of his right shoulder, apologetically adding, “I’m so sorry, Liz. I had no idea this would happen.”

She shifted her weight to her knees so that her mouth lowered to his chest. Amongst a series of provocative kisses over his exposed skin she questioned in a patently rhetorical tone, “Are you sorry that for the rest of my life I will have to feel how much love you have for me? Are you sorry that I am connected to you in a way I never could have been with another human being?” Bringing her hand up to his face she coaxed his eyes to meet hers. “Are you sorry that the only man I will ever make love with is you?”

“No,” he sincerely replied.

“Then why are you apologizing?”

“Because you didn’t know what you were getting into by accepting my gift,” he clarified.

“Didn’t I?” she asked sympathetically. “Max, all this alien stuff may be pretty new to me, but I know for a fact that no rock in the universe, no matter how pretty it may be, could force me to do something I didn’t want to do.” Her face turning solemn with sudden enlightenment she questioned, “Of course that’s it, isn’t it?”

“That’s what?” he warily asked.

With a gentle smile she lovingly chastised, “You’ve spent so much of your life hating what you are that somewhere deep down you still can’t believe that I actually want to be with you. You’d rather convince yourself that I didn’t have a choice in the matter so you can continue thinking you’re some kind of monster.”

Hearing her speak aloud the thoughts that had tormented the darkest corners of his heart filled him with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. He wanted to beg her to tell him it was true, that he and the Khivara had forced her to commit her life to him, because he was too afraid of seeing the disappointment in her eyes when she discovered that being in love with an alien wasn’t as wonderful as she imagined it to be.

“I never should have let you get involved with me. You don’t understand how dangerous your life has just become,” he pleaded. “There are people, alien hunters, who will hurt you and torture you and maybe even kill you just to get to me. You will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder and watching what you say. If you…if we ever have children they will be in jeopardy from the moment they are conceived. I didn’t want that for you. I wanted to love you from afar and see you live a happy life in a normal marriage with a normal guy so you could have normal kids.”

A rush of anger, her anger he realized, swept through him like a tidal wave as she pushed herself up to a kneeling position and stabbed his chest with an accusatory finger, emphatically protesting, “You offered me the Khivara and damn it, I took it hoping that it would bond me to you in the same way you’re bonded to me. I asked you to share your soul with me, to become part of me, and you accepted without hesitation. Don’t you dare try to make up excuses now for the fact that you’re scared because you finally have what you’ve always wanted. How noble of you to want to love me from afar and watch me live a normal life. If I hadn’t made the first move by asking you to stargaze with me, if I hadn't figured out you were my Secret Santa I bet that is exactly what would have happened. There’s just one tiny detail you forgot in your little self-sacrificing scenario: you weren’t even going to bother to ask me what I wanted. I may have ended up living a normal life but if you weren’t in it, it wouldn’t have been a very happy one. I don’t want normal. I want you. And since you offered me the Khivara, my mate, I have you for the rest of my life. Like it or not, Maxwell Evans, you are stuck with me. End. Of. Story.”

He was so thunderstruck by the strength of her convictions that he stared at her blankly for several long seconds before sitting up and pulling them both to a standing position alongside the bed. Taking her hands in his he brought them up to his lips and gave them a quick kiss before saying, “I’m sorry, Liz.”

“Max,” she said in exasperation. “I told you there is nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh yes there is,” he said sardonically. “You don’t know how sorry I am that my parents are going to return home sometime tonight because I really want to forget about the dance, lay you down in that bed and make you my mate in every sense of the word.”

Her simmering anger immediately became desire as she eagerly raised up on her toes to demonstrate how much she shared his frustration. When they broke their passionate kiss she said with a raised brow, “I think you already came pretty close to doing that once tonight.”

“I guess we did get a little carried away,” he admitted as he easily recalled the wonderfully compromising position they had been in minutes earlier, “although I don’t quite remember how we ended up that way.”

Reluctantly withdrawing from his embrace she reached down to the bed and picked up the hastily discarded burgundy sweater she had been wearing when he first arrived home. “Well, I had planned to convert this into a sweater for you if I was able to successfully change your Monday sweater back,” she remarked as she pressed it into his hands, “but considering the lateness of the hour and the fact that neither one of us recalls how we ended up in the bed together I think it would be best for you to go solo on this one.”

“I think you’re right,” he answered as he glanced at his watch. “We’re already pushing our luck. My parents could be home any minute.”

“The rest of my clothes for the dance are still downstairs,” she explained as she backed away from him and headed toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He walked toward his closet and pulled out the black dress shirt and pants he had put together the day after she had agreed to go to the dance with him. They had been proudly displayed in front of all his other clothes, but after their disastrous confrontation last night he had moved them to the very back, hoping that hiding them away would somehow lessen the pain of knowing he would never wear them. Hanging them over the door he removed his work shirt the rest of the way and unbuttoned his jeans, slowly lowering the zipper as his mind played out the events of the past twenty-four hours. Last night he never would have imagined that he would be taking her to the dance as his bonded mate.

“After you’re done changing that sweater, do you think you could take this red skirt and make it burgundy?” she asked as she returned, all her concentration focused on brushing some small piece of lint from the item draped over her arm.

He froze in place for a moment before bunching his jeans together at the waist to stop them from sliding down his hips. Nervously rubbing the index finger of his other hand against his brow he fixed her with a mystified gaze, “You’re standing in my bedroom asking me to manipulate molecular structure like it’s an everyday occurrence. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“Actually, I do,” she reminded as she finally looked up at him. With a hungry perusal of his half-dressed form she slowly added, “just like you know how seeing you like that makes me feel.”

Not only was he experiencing the torrent of desire he was stirring inside of her, he also sensed her struggling against the urge to help him finish getting undressed. Simply knowing that he had the same effect on her that she had on him was such an amazing sensation that he couldn’t fathom how he would ever handle her taking all his clothes off or any of the things that might happen after that. If making love to her came anywhere close to the extremely intense pleasure of their bonding he would have to delay cementing that bond for as long as possible. Otherwise he had no doubt that they would spend the rest of their high school days seeking out places to be alone.

“I think I’d better wait for you somewhere else,” she grudgingly conceded, obviously aware of his train of thought. Sheepishly creeping over to his bed she carefully laid out the skirt. “I’m just going to leave this here and borrow the downstairs bathroom to freshen up a little.”

He nodded his head in understanding, a wide smile gracing his face as she slowly left the room. Her eyes had remained steadfastly fixed on his barely dressed body the entire time. “Don’t forget to leave your hair down,” he called out.

“I won’t,” came the muffled response.

He quickly finished changing his clothes and went to work on turning her sweater into one that would be appropriate for him to wear. As the fibers stretched and grew a rush of emotions and images filled his mind, memories of events that had occurred while she was wearing the garment.



Sharing a carton of ice cream with Maria as she confessed how entrancing she found his eyes.

Searching the bleachers at West Roswell’s first basketball game of the season, hoping against hope that he would have finally decided to attend.

Unbridled lust coursing through her as his sensuous fingers unfastened the buttons, fighting the desire to strip off her tank top and feel his lips tasting her bare flesh.




He finished the transformation just in time, desperately trying to compose himself despite what he had seen. After a few deep breaths and a recitation of the preamble to the Constitution he managed to get his unruly body back under control, but experiencing her view of their downstairs encounter gave him an interesting notion. If he could receive flashes just from touching her clothing, could he implant images in them as well?

Picking up her red skirt he thought of what he would want her to see and feel if his attempt was successful. From the flashes he had received while altering her sweater it appeared that times of strong emotion elicited the clearest images. Deciding to start small he came up with two scenarios and closed his eyes in concentration, willing his vivid thoughts into the material between his fingers. Almost as an afterthought he darkened the woven threads to match the burgundy color of the lace teddy that adorned his beautiful dreamgirl in the both the conjured visions and in reality.

Now all he had to do was wait and see whether his idea would work.
SansuCry
Enthusiastic Roswellian
Posts: 12
Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm

Twelve Days--Part 17 (Conclusion)

Post by SansuCry »

Well, folks, here it is: the conclusion.

I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this little idea that became a full-blown fic, especially those who nominated me for Best Holiday fic. Even more so, a special thanks to each of you who checked the box for my story in the awards voting. I wouldn't have won if it weren't for you.

Image

Part 17

“Excuse me, everybody. May I have your attention, please?” Isabelle’s voice cut off the tail end of the fast song the d.j. had been playing. The crowd stopped dancing and immediately milled around the stage where she had appropriated the microphone. With a proud grin she cheered, “I just wanted to thank all of you for coming to the dance tonight. Seniors may rule the Prom, but nobody parties better than the Juniors!”

The crowd responded with enthusiastic approval for several long minutes. When the excited hollers and catcalls finally subsided, she continued, “I’m sure you all know there’s no better way to end this particular party than by announcing the Snow King and Queen.”

The room automatically began to buzz with anticipation, but Liz was scarcely paying any mind to the events surrounding her, just as she had been doing for most of the night. She and Max had been so wrapped up in each other that she hadn’t noticed the envious stares as he possessively led her to the dance floor. She had failed to hear the rumors that the two of them must have gone all the way since they had such an intimate air about them. The only events that had been able to penetrate her blissful haze were the good-natured teasing the couple had received from Maria and Michael for being late to the dance and Pam Troy’s failed attempt at a jealous confrontation. The former had been embarrassingly amusing, the latter downright laughable.

She and Max had just taken a break from the congested dance floor, Max only leaving her side long enough to procure some much-needed refreshments, when the petty blonde had approached her with a phony smile. “You’ve really pulled one over, haven’t you, Liz?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said dismissively, her eyes automatically seeking out Max.

“Sure you do,” Pam evilly smirked. “Candy and Melissa couldn’t believe it when they found out you were, um, ‘dating’ Max Evans, but I told them it made perfect sense.”

“And why is that?” she asked, struggling to not let the other girl see how irritated she was getting.

“Well, it’s such a great cover that nobody would guess the truth. Of course, your secret is safe with me.”

A chill ran down her spine at Pam’s insinuation. How could her classmate possibly have guessed Max’s secret? She had known that the rest of her life would be spent lying to protect him, but she hadn’t realized the first occasion would come so soon. In as steady a voice as possible she remarked, “What, exactly, do you think is ‘the truth’?”

“Well, everyone just assumes that Max was your Secret Santa, but I saw Mrs. Johnston’s little book. I know that his sister is the one whose name was next to yours. What will everyone say when they discover that it was Isabelle and not Max who gave you the romantic gifts they’ve all been chattering about?”

“Wait a minute,” Liz harshly laughed as she realized that Pam was insinuating one of the same conclusions she originally had reached regarding her Secret Santa’s identity. “You think that Max and I are together so I can secretly be with Isabelle? You can’t be serious.”

“What other explanation could there be?” Pam questioned with narrowed eyes that indicated she was willing to say anything to wound her target. “Max and Isabelle may be adopted, but from what I’ve heard they’re still biological brother and sister. Those kind of things do run in families.”

“Those kind of things?” she asked with a humorously raised brow as she inwardly sighed with relief. If Pam had any idea how close she was to an entirely different ‘truth’...

“You know,” Pam leaned in and conspiratorially whispered. “Ho-mo-sex-u-al-i-ty. I mean, you don’t really think Max could be interested in a plain little mouse like you, do you? I’m sure that if he were into girls, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a real woman’s body grinding against him on that dance floor.”

Liz wasn’t sure whether to seethe in anger or crawl under the table in shame as Pam managed to hit on her greatest insecurity. How many times over the past couple of years had she thought Max would have paid more attention to her if she had been some busty blue-eyed blonde?

No sooner had the thought entered her mind than it was driven out by a flash so intense it made her reel in surprise.



She had come to the dance alone, waiting and hoping for the romance of a lifetime promised by her Secret Santa’s beautiful notes.

“Liz,” a deep voice passionately whispered as strong warm hands caressed her shoulders, urging her to turn around and meet her fate.

Her startled gasp was quickly smothered by a gentle yet demanding kiss from the last person she had ever expected to see at the dance, the boy whose soulful amber eyes courted her in every last one of her dreams. “Max?” she questioned, dazed with a mixture of confusion and amazement. She wanted to think he had come there for her, but her disbelieving mind was too wary of the intense longing surging through her heart to accept that possibility.

His index finger pointing skyward he explained with a devilishly innocent smile, “You’re standing under the mistletoe. I couldn’t break tradition.”

“Oh,” she quietly said as she tried to not let him see the disappointment in her eyes.

“Besides, it’s the perfect excuse to discover something I’ve been aching to know for years.”

“What’s that?” she whispered, her heart pounding a nervous rhythm in her chest.

“To see whether your lips taste as sweet in real life as they do in my dreams.”




She intuitively knew that she had seen one of the dozen or so ways Max had envisioned this night playing out in the long uncertain days before they had shared the magical evening of stargazing that was the beginning of their amorous relationship. Bolstered by the vivid affirmation that he always had and always would belong exclusively to her, she permanently banished from her mind the ridiculous fear of not measuring up to Pam Troy as she fleetingly wondered how she had received a flash from Max when he was halfway across the room.

“I’m sorry. I just assumed you knew he was gay,” the spiteful girl feigned in apology at the sight of Liz wavering on her feet. Aiming for another dig she added as if accidentally speaking her thoughts aloud, “Of course, if he isn’t ready to come out of the closet yet, he probably figures kissing a girl who is shaped like a boy is as close as he’s going to get for now.”

That timely flash had easily taken the sting out of Pam’s malicious commentary, but Liz still didn’t want the arrogant girl to have the last word on the subject. She desperately struggled to come up with some scathing retort, but was drawing a complete blank when a familiar masculine scent tickled her nose.

“Actually, Pam, I’m only ‘in the closet’,” her mate’s deep voice resonated against her ear as he pulled her into his strong, comforting embrace, “because I wouldn’t follow you into the eraser room.” Pressing a protective kiss to his dreamgirl’s temple, he continued addressing Pam with the authority of a king. “If the closet is where you want to keep me, so be it. You just make sure you tell all your gossip-hungry friends that as long as Liz is in that ‘closet’ with me, I won’t be coming out any time soon.”

Realizing that her vicious attack had caused her to lose any chance she might have had to break the couple up, Pam scowled at the two before stalking off to sulk. She had continued to give the pair hateful looks for the rest of the evening, but neither of them had bothered to waste a second thought on the girl.

However, Liz had given quite a bit of thought to the mistletoe flash she had experienced during Pam’s intrusive rant. She would have suspected that it had been nothing more than her own fantasy running wild in an attempt to protect her from the cruel words of her classmate except for the little energy wave that had accompanied the vision. She had already grown accustomed to sensing whatever alien power was responsible for converting intimate thoughts into a mental cinema brimming with emotion, so she was positive that the entire scenario had originated from Max’s fertile imagination.

That fact was confirmed when she had brought the subject up with him right before he had led her to the dance floor for the night’s final set of songs. He had seemed pleased yet not surprised when she described what she had seen, but when questioned about how he had been able to give her a flash while they weren’t touching, he would only say that it was his little secret. Being the inquisitive person she was, she had refused to let the subject drop, vainly searching for ways to make him confess his methods. She was still in the middle of doing just this when a mixture of cheers and surprised gasps pulled her attention away from the effort.

“Congratulations, guy, I’m not surprised,” Michael was saying to Max as he gave his friend a firm handshake.

“Congratulations on what?” the couple asked in unison.

“Didn’t you hear Isabelle?” Maria questioned Max with a grin that told him she knew exactly why his head was in the clouds. “You’ve been voted Snow King. Now get up there before your sister embarrasses you even more.”

Max gave Liz a quick kiss and an apologetic look before reluctantly pulling away from her to walk up on stage. Her confidence wavered only slightly as she whispered the name Isabelle would call for Snow Queen, secure in the knowledge that Max’s obligatory dance with Pam was just as revolting a thought to him as it was to his mate. She gave him a supportive smile as his eyes met hers over the crowd, but he didn’t have a chance to return the gesture before his sister was addressing him.

“I’m sure you’re all as anxious as Max here to find out who was chosen as this year’s Snow Queen, but since my brother is the one who has to reign over the junior class with this girl at his side, I think we should give him first look at her name.” Holding up the envelope for all to see she urged, “What do you say, guys?”

Another wave of cheers peppered with a several boos of dissent swept through the eager students before Isabelle loosened the flap, removed the slip of paper and handed it over to Max. He immediately read the name and once again raised his eyes to Liz, the apologetic look he had given her moments earlier clouding his expression for the second time that night. Isabelle and he exchanged a few whispers before she tied the Snow King cape around his shoulders, and with a sympathetic smile she pressed the Snow Queen’s tiara into his palm. He walked to the end of the stage and down into the crowd, each set of eyes in the room following his every step.

Max took his time walking toward the edge of the dance floor where Pam was patiently waiting with her flock of shallow friends, but just as the snide girl pitched a triumphant leer in Liz’s direction he abruptly changed course and headed straight for the intended target of the arrogant glare. With the most beautiful smile she had ever seen lighting up his face, Max produced the slip of paper Isabelle had handed him and offered it to her. “Out of all the notes I have given you as your Secret Santa, none of them comes close to what this one says.”

Everyone was so stunned by the abrupt turn of events that the gymnasium suddenly grew silent. Realizing that she was now the center of attention, the shakiness in her words was unavoidable as she hesitantly asked, “What does it say?”

“It says that my greatest dream has really come true,” he ardently pronounced, unfazed by the throng of people now surrounding them. He slid the prophetic paper into his jacket pocket as he inched close enough to brush several strands of hair from her face. Then, cupping her left cheek in his hand, he revered, “It says that you, Elizabeth Parker, are my queen.”

“Oh, Max,” she whispered as her unsteady hand went to her mouth, her body suddenly affected by the same trembling present in her voice.

He tenderly stroked his fingers down her jaw before grasping the sparkling tiara between his thumbs and index fingers to weave it into her dark tresses. A small sigh of frustration slipped past his lips as he labored to make the headpiece stay level, but the underlying contentment radiating from his entire being revealed that nothing could truly phase him tonight.

Once he was finally satisfied with his handiwork he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple and led her to the center of the dance floor, both of them oblivious to the crowd circling around them. Eyes never wandering from each other’s adoring gaze, he wrapped his arms around her waist as she brought her left hand up to caress the nape of his neck. Pulling her flush against him, he gave her a more provocative kiss that left no doubt how thrilled he was to be standing there with her.

The notes of the song chosen for the couple’s first dance as West Roswell’s Snow King and Queen gradually unfolded from the speakers until they filled the muted hall. The couple swayed to several bars of the gentle melody before Liz identified the tune, her eyes crescenting with joy as she realized Max had specifically requested it.

“It’s not quite burgundy,” he shyly explained, “but it’s as close as I could get on such short notice.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and tenderly pressed a kiss to the beard-roughened skin just above his shirt collar. Reveling in his warm strength, she breathed in the clean masculine scent that was uniquely his and lost herself in his embrace as he half-sang, half-whispered the lyrics to her.

“I've never seen you looking so lovely as you do tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes
I have been blind

The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me,
It's where I want to be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never forget, the way you look tonight.”

His hand came up from around her waist, his fingers lovingly stroking across her cheek before threading into her hair in an intimate gesture of possession. The entranced crowd remained statue still, refusing to break the spell that the devoted couple had woven over the entire gymnasium. The complete adoration and utter devotion the two displayed through the simple movements of a dance were even too alluring for Pam Troy to resist. Like the rest of her classmates, she was absolutely mesmerized.

“I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright you were amazing
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight.”



This was either the fourth or fifth day of their honeymoon. They had been having such a grand time that she had easily lost track. Their days had been filled with the adventure of exploring the lush tropical paradise that surrounded them, their nights spent rediscovering the lusciousness of each other’s bodies. This night would be no different.

“The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me,
It's where I want to be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never for get, the way you look tonight.”

The energetic music in the dance club at the center of town had relentlessly pounded through their veins until they could no longer resist the urges inspired by the primal beat. The taxi ride back to their cabin had been sheer torture as eager hands and mouths struggled to relieve the lustful ache burning inside of them while remaining within the realm of public decency.

“The way you look tonight
I never will forget, the way you look tonight.”

Fiery need had calmed to loving desire by the time he had carried her through the doorway. The club music long forgotten, quiet strains of their special song now enveloped them as they once again took the first tentative steps of a dance as old as time itself.

“The lady in red”

Hands steadied by years of intimate knowledge unfastened a black silk blouse that was much more practical for an island paradise than the thick bulky sweater it had been scant days earlier.

“The lady in red”

Agile fingers lowered the zipper of her shorter than normal burgundy skirt and allowed it to fall at her feet.

“The lady in red”

Familiar burgundy lace joined it seconds later.

“My lady in red”

Whenever they made love it seemed impossible for them to be any more a part each other than they were at that precise moment in time.

“I love you.”

Then their lovers’ waltz would start anew and they would prove themselves wrong once more. That was especially true of tonight. For on this night not only were they making love, they were creating their son.



“Oh, Max,” she moaned in a voice deepened by love and desire as she clung to him for support. The images fading from her mind she realized that they were still in the middle of the high school gym. Suddenly embarrassed that they had remained the center of attention despite the fact that their song had ended, she started to pull away from him.

Refusing to release his hold on her he lowered his mouth to hers and tempted her with a taste of the same relentless passion from the wonderful vision that had now become his greatest dream. ‘Our song may be over, my Queen,’ he silently pledged, ‘but I assure you, our dance has just begun.’



And two decades later, when Jeffrey Philip Evans was the one revealing his Secret Santa identity to the best friend who was his dreamgirl, the students of West Roswell’s junior class still buzzed about the Snow King and Queen who had managed to make love in the middle of a dance floor without removing a single stitch of black or burgundy clothing.

THE END




The song is "Lady in Red" by Chris DeBurgh

There are so many things I could have added to this story, but I wanted it to stay a relatively short, light piece. Therefore, you'll have to use your own imagination to fill in what happened in those twenty years between one Evans man and the next's Secret Santa surprise. Suffice it to say, the important thing to know is that Max and Liz lived happily ever.

Thanks again for reading.

Sansu
Locked