Splitscreen (AU,M/L,ADULT) AN,pg11 - 9Jan06 {WIP}
Posted: Wed Apr 02, 2003 8:49 pm
Banner by LongTimeFan.
Title: Splitscreen
Author: Tasyfa
Author's E-mail: tasyfa@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell are the property of Twentieth Century Fox Television and Regency Productions. All original characters and concepts are the property of the author. No profit has been made from the distribution of this work of fiction.
Category: AU; Max POV
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Season 1, Season 2, and Busted through Four Aliens and a Baby happened. After Tess died and Max gave up baby Zan for adoption, Liz's powers began to affect her health dangerously. It wasn't something Max, or any Earthly remedy, could heal. They discovered that the piece of spaceship that Michael took from the military base in Crash was a fragment of the granolith. Max used the fragment to travel back in time and prevent Liz from getting shot, thereby preventing the changes that resulted in her developing powers. (To find out how that trip might have played out, check out my fic The Bitter Dregs. And if you recognize the post-4AAAB events as derivative of the false spoilers for the series finale, bravo!)
So for the second time, a Max Evans traveled through time to save a Liz Parker. The thing is, this time his actions had repercussions in more than one universe. A tear in time/space opened, which allowed certain information to pass to another Max Evans in his dreams…
This one is for sheer fun.
Hugs, Tas
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter One
"Michael, are you going to get that?" I have a heavy barbell suspended over my chest, clearly not in a position to answer the phone, and he's sitting there ignoring the damn thing. If he weren't my best friend forever as well as my roommate for the last four years, I'd kick his ass.
"Yeah, fine," he grumbles, picking up the ringing phone. "Hello?"
I watch a smile tug at his lips and figure out who it must be, just as Michael hits a button on the base and replaces the receiver, activating the speaker phone.
"Max?" comes the expected female voice, and I smile. Our other best friend.
"I'm here, Maria. What's up?"
"Did you read the poem for the take home Romantics exam yet?"
"Yeah." I already know it backwards and forwards. It's a classic.
"What the hell is he talking about?"
I have to laugh at that. Maria's been struggling through this class since the beginning of the semester. "Bring me Starbucks in the morning and I'll explain it to you."
"You're on." Her relief is palpable. "What're you guys doing tonight?"
"I had my weekly outing last night," Michael practically purrs and I shake my head.
"Yeah, and I hope you had as much fun as it sounded like. Man, she was loud!"
Maria starts giggling and Michael grimaces at me. "Operatic, actually. She's a singer," he explains. "Unfortunately, she apparently had a better time than I did. I don't plan to see her again."
"What is it with you and musicians?" Maria wonders. Michael and I exchange a look. He knows that I know how he feels about her, but Michael's not willing to do anything about it so we keep silent.
"What about you, Mare? I'm free tonight." I cover the awkward moment.
"Saturday night and Max Evans doesn't have any plans?" The sarcasm is slightly strong.
"Christine had to cancel. Her mom had a minor stroke or something; I didn't get all the details. Anyway, I told her to call me when she gets back into town if she still wants to go out, and sent some flowers to the hospital." I shrug it off.
"You sound a little breathless, Max," she observes.
"Oh, he's doing his George act," Michael breezes.
"My what?" How did I miss that choice nickname?
"George of the Jungle, Max. Code for working out," he smirks.
"Oh." There's nothing I can say to dignify that so I keep doing reps.
"Who's Christine again?" Maria asks.
"She's in our poetry class. Long blonde hair, in sort of ringlets, sits behind John."
"Oh, yeah. She's pretty enough. So have you gone out with her already?"
Michael snorts. "What kind of stupid question is that? I'm going to be married with kids before Maxwell commits to a second date."
"Only if you forget to use a condom," I shoot at him. I'm sure Maria's rolling her eyes by now.
"Never. I'm always careful," he protests.
Maria butts in. "You never know, Guerin. Besides, it's a little unusual to send a girl's mother flowers when you haven't even dated said girl yet."
"What was I supposed to do? Her mom's in the hospital! She's a human being, for Chrissakes." Why am I getting defensive? I finish the complete set of my bench presses and sit up with a groan. Not from the exercise; from the conversation.
"All right, then if you two aren't busy I'm going to come over tonight. And I'm bringing a friend, to help dispel all the testosterone," Maria informs us tartly.
I laugh. "What, you don't think you can hold your own?" Every now and again she does bring a girlfriend with her. Supposedly it's to keep us on our best behavior. Neither Michael nor I do anything differently when there's a fourth person, except maybe flirt more.
"Nah, I can feel the caveman vibes from here today. I'll be there eightish. Oh, Max, after your shower make liberal use of air freshener and Febreze. Eau de Sweaty Man is only acceptable in bed, and I don't sleep with either of you!"
"Aye aye, cap'n," I salute her, even though she can't see it, and Maria laughs. The phone clicks as she hangs up.
"I suppose that means I have to get dressed today," Michael complains.
"Not if you don't care if Maria's friend takes off screaming," I tease. "One of us better do a run for snacks and drinks, too, 'cause I don't think we have anything."
"Why, Max! Planning to get the poor girl drunk and seduce her?" He flutters his eyelashes outrageously and I resist the urge to hit him.
"You know Maria likes to unwind with us, because she knows we won't do that. Okay, you would, but not to her." I sidestep the question and we both know why. I date a lot of different girls but I don't sleep with any of them. I can't. Not physically can't—I'm not in desperate need of Viagra or anything. Might be easier if that were the problem; there'd be light at the end of the tunnel then. As it is, there's only one woman I want to hear cry out in passion and I haven't seen her in years.
It's different for Michael. Once he accepted that there's no chance of us going back to Antar, he threw himself into the human experience. His grades in college make people scratch their heads when comparing them to the dismal mess that was high school. And he's actually had girlfriends. Not long-term or really serious ones, but it's still a huge step up for him. Then there's Maria. She's brought a lot of sunshine to both our lives. I honestly don't know how I would have gotten through the last three and a half years of college without her. The two of them adamantly refuse to move their relationship past best friends and I get hit from both sides when I go guilt tripping about it. Because one of the biggest reasons they won't take that step is me. Specifically, me being in love with Maria's lifelong best friend and not being able to do anything about it, for a whole laundry list of reasons. Most of them having to do with past lives and alternate realities. Well, and genetics. Did I mention that my life is complicated?
"Maxwell. Snap out of it and go shower." Michael deliberately breaks the spell—he knows the signs.
"Right. Thanks." He nods as I toss him a quick smile.
"Yeah. Listen, I'll throw some gear on and go to the store while you're Febrezing." The trademark smirk appears and I can't help but laugh as I head for that warm water.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Eight o'clock has come and gone, which is completely expected. Michael does a dying of shock act every time Maria actually shows up on time for something. So when the knock sounds, he checks the clock and shakes his head while he stands up to let her in. I don't bother moving off the couch; it's a casual night.
I hear them bantering at the door and the indistinct sound of another female voice. Michael laughs at whatever she's said and there's an odd note in the sound. Curiosity stirring, I lever myself onto my feet and face the door, and Maria speaks with a quick brightness.
"Max, you remember Liz Parker."
Soft lighting, from dozens of candles. The gem in the hollow of her throat sparkles as we turn slow circles, swaying to the music. Her face is tipped up, those fathomless dark eyes trained on me.
"Where did you learn to dance like this?"
"I used to trade off with my mom. She'd teach me to dance and I'd get out of some chores. She said I'd be grateful for it some day." Mom was right.
She smiles at me and I can feel my heart pounding, my blood rushing. We've been in each other's arms like this for hours, since the after dinner coffee was cleared away. Sometimes talking and other times simply reveling in the closeness. But not too close; I've kept a paper thin, respectful distance between our bodies.
Until now, when she erases that space and melts into me. Her gaze melts too, liquid in the candlelight. Reflecting her awareness of my arousal and her response. As if she's been too bold, lush lashes veil her eyes and she rests her head on my shoulder. But she doesn't pull away and we continue to move, pressed intimately together. I know she can hear how my breathing grows somewhat erratic. Her only acknowledgement is to slide her hand up from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and she strokes her fingers through the short hair there.
It's later and we're standing in front of her door. I don't want the night to end. She bestows on me another one of those dazzling smiles.
"I had a wonderful time, Max. I'm glad you finally asked me out."
"Me, too." God, I want to kiss her! Her body language tells me she wants me to, so we both lean in and that's when it happens. I get a flash. Our lips haven't even touched yet and I'm seeing her playing dress-up as a little girl, the white lace tablecloth over her head clearly meant to be a bridal veil.
I've seen a similar flash before—secondhand, in my dreams. But I've never experienced one myself like this. It seems this is one area where I definitely fall short of my alternate self because my instinctive reaction is panic. Then again, he was already in full panic mode when he got his first flash from Liz, since she was dying on the Crashdown floor. Thank God my dreams about his life started early enough to skip that horror. Me, I get my first flash in a nice romantic situation, and I blow it.
I can only imagine what kind of appalled look is on my face, from the hurt flooding Liz's eyes. I have no idea what I'm saying as I babble some excuse, turn tail and run.
Literally.
"Unutterable asshole!" she flings after me, and I can't dispute that. But my feet are listening to my fear, not my heart, so I keep running.
It's more than four years later, and I still don't know what I said. Liz cooled off, of course, and her logic kicked in, telling her that it wasn't your run-of-the-mill intimacy freak out. We'd been plastered to each other for hours, our lips mere inches apart any number of times, so my running made no sense whatsoever to her. She cornered me about two weeks later, but by then it was too late. I'd had the last burst of dreams and I knew I couldn't risk her life by getting involved with her. I went with the 'unutterable asshole' idea and told her some crap about leaving because I'd figured out she wasn't going to invite me up for sex.
She hasn't spoken to me since. The remainder of senior year was just slightly hellish but at least Liz was safe. And safe she's stayed, far away from me and all things alien.
Until tonight.