Chasing the Son (CC-ALL,Mature) AN,pg 24 5/15/07 [WIP]

[Midwest Max]

Title: Chasing the Son
Author: Karen
Disclaimer: The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, WB, and UPN. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Pairings/Couples/Category: CC – ALL
Rating: Mature
Summary: This is the story of what happened to the gang during the 17 years between Max giving up Nate and Nate finding out about his heritage. This is the seventh in the series.
Author's Note: No next-generation characters in this one. Excellent banner by the very talented LongTimeFan. Thanks, sweetie!


Part One

Roswell, NM – February 2004

The room was as Max Evans remembered it, though he hadn’t been in it in nearly two years. The walls were brick, the windows draped in a dark blue printed fabric. A corkboard filled with out-of-date memos and an old calendar hung above the desk; the dresser stood where it always had. Looking at the dresser, Max had a memory flash of Kyle Valenti opening the top drawer in search of a glimpse into her private life.

The secrets of femininity, so close. Who knows what I may discover?

Max smiled gently at the memory, his gaze drifting to the window. A dragon chased across one of the panes, and outside of the window sat an unused chaise lounge, weathered and beaten. He looked out at the rooftop, which was now unkempt, leaves cluttering the corners, and mused about how many nights he’d climbed the iron fire escape. Some of those nights had led to good things. Other nights had not been so pleasant.

Before he could wallow in the bad memories, the door flung open and Liz entered, carrying a couple of shopping bags. Even though it was cloudy and threatening rain outside, his whole world turned sunny in that one instant; he simply glowed from head to toe.

“How did it go?” he asked, going to take the bags from her hands and laying them on the bed.

“Not bad,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “Wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.” Immediately she cringed at the off-the-cuff use of the word. “I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be painful, I just meant that the crowds weren’t so bad.”

She turned away from him, pretending to dig in the shopping bags and he felt a tug of regret. Again. He would always regret his decision. He would always regret having put her through all that he had. Liz knew how he felt, that’s why she was so self-conscious of the words she’d chosen. He knew she meant no harm but if he’d been sent on the task she’d just completed, it would definitely have been painful for him.

Feeling the need to bandage the verbal wound, he cleared his throat lightly. “So, what did you buy?”

Liz turned a smile in his direction and reached into the bag. She came out with a tiny white lacy dress with pink flowers embroidered on it, a pair of ruffled socks and a set of pale pink shoes.

“That’s adorable,” Max said, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his voice. He took a seat on the bed as he watched her start to remove the price tags from the gifts. “I think Maria will really like that.”

“You think?” she asked, though he got the idea she was being rhetorical. No one knew Maria better than Liz.

“I’m sure of it,” he encouraged with a grin. “Want me to help you wrap?”

“I got a gift bag,” Liz said, biting through the plastic tie holding the price tag to the dress.

Max rummaged in the bag and came out with the gift bag and some tissue, which he expertly inserted into the gift bag. Liz placed the shoes and socks in the bottom of the bag, then folded the dress and placed it on top.

“Well, that was quick,” Max said, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. With a devilish grin, he took her around the waist and pulled her forward so that she was standing between his knees. “Seems to me like we have a little extra time on our hands.”

Liz giggled. “What did you have in mind?”

Max looked over his shoulder at the bed. “High school fantasy,” he confessed.

“Uh huh. So, in high school, you had a fantasy about my bed?”

“Not just your bed, but you in your bed.”

“Alone?”

“Preferably not.”

She was smiling as she leaned down to kiss him. Without breaking contact, she deftly straddled him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. After a few moments, she pulled away and looked over his shoulder at her old comforter.

“We never did make love in my bed, did we?” she asked, her brow furrowed slightly, trying to remember.

“Nope. Trust me – I would recall that.”

Liz met Max’s eyes, then she gave an amused snort.

“Where are your parents?” he whispered, his eyes traveling down her throat, past the necklace he’d given her the week before for Valentines Day, to the plunging V of her neckline. The lace edge of her bra was peeking out at him, enticing him, teasing him.

“Out,” she answered simply, before pressing her lips to his and pushing him backward onto the bed.

Before he could mouth the warning, she raised her hand toward the door, which closed obediently, the lock clicking softly into place.

Liz Parker had become Liz Parker-Evans two weeks before she’d left to attend Harvard on the east coast. In all of the uncertainty that had become Max’s existence, there was one thing of which he’d always been sure – he loved Liz and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. After graduation, she’d received word that Harvard was willing to accept her application, despite her less than stellar interview that previous winter. Max hadn’t been so fortunate.

On a tireless quest to find his son, Max had let everything in his life slip – familial relationships, his relationship with Liz, and his grades. Once at the top of his class and regarded as one of the brighter students at Roswell High, Max found himself in the position of barely graduating with his class. No place like Harvard wouldn’t give him a second glance. On paper, he looked like a troubled, lazy young man and in truth he wasn’t certain he even wanted to go to college.

But Liz was going and that was a problem. Max couldn’t stand to have her so far away. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to take care of herself or that he was afraid of some alien being harming her. It was that he would simply die without seeing her every day. He proposed to her in July and in the middle of August they eloped. To Vegas. Which only proved that you might be able to change the details of the future, but the big picture seemed to remain the same.

So Max followed Liz to Boston, where she went to college and he started working for the Oceanographic Institute. At present, he was guiding tours through the museum – it wasn’t his dream job, but it gave him enough money to help support them while Liz went to school. He didn’t want her to have to worry about working while she needed to study.

“Oh, God,” Liz moaned, her face flushed, her eyes closed in bliss. “Oh my God!”

Max, breathless, broke into a wide grin as he watched her. He simply loved her more every day.

After a quick shower together, then jumped into their rental car and headed toward the other side of town. Due to the President’s Day holiday, they’d been able to steal away for the weekend to return to Roswell. It was a special occasion after all, with a new baby entering the world.

“Is this the place?” Max asked from behind the wheel, glancing at the paper he had half-crushed in his hand.

“Looks like it,” Liz said as he pulled the car to the curb.

He looked at the paper again, confirmed the addresses, then they started to get out of the car. Before they could, though, he stopped and pulled Liz back into her seat.

“What?” she giggled.

“I left something behind,” he said sheepishly, lowering his hand to her neck to erase the hickey he’d placed there an hour before.

Liz laughed, gave him a quick kiss, then grabbed the gift bag and climbed out of the car. On the sidewalk, he took her hand in his as they strolled to the door of the apartment building. There was a slight nip in the air and her fingers felt cool in his.

“You going to be okay with this?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Max had been wondering how long it was going to be before she asked. Baby Zan had been gone a little over a year when Maria had announced she was pregnant. She and Michael had decided to have the baby and the fact that they didn’t feel a need to hide it only drove home to Max that maybe he’d made a mistake in giving up his son.

The cold hard truth was that there hadn’t been an ambush from anywhere. Not from the FBI or any other faction of the government. Not from any other alien life form, if there were indeed any others left on the planet. In fact, life had turned a bit dull in that regard. No one had come to knock down their door and haul them away. It was highly possible Zan could have stayed with them, that Max could have been the father he’d wanted to be.

The thought haunted him every day.

Liz was looking at him with troubled eyes and he realized he’d never answered her.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to smile. “I’m happy for them.”

“Me, too,” she grinned, opening the door to the building.

Michael greeted them at the apartment door, looking tired but happy and proud. Max mused that his friend would never out-right tell anyone how he felt, but he didn’t need to – it was all over his face.

“Congratulations, Michael,” Liz said, reaching up to give him a hug.

“Thanks, Liz,” he mumbled as she moved past him and into the living room.

Max reached out and shook Michael’s hand. “Congratulations, papa.”

Michael chuckled as he pushed the door closed. “Come in and meet her. We’re in the living room.”

The living room was full of people, or so it seemed since it was such a small space. Maria was on the couch, Isabel was sitting on the ottoman and Liz was standing at the end of the sofa, already holding the new born baby. Max’s heart lurched in his chest, just seeing her smiling down at the infant. In his heart, he knew that someday she’d want children of her own, and he just couldn’t deny her, all the while his conscience was telling him it was wrong to give up Tess’s child but keep those that he would make with Liz.

“Hi, Max,” Isabel said as she squeezed him tightly. He hugged her in return, if a bit mechanically, his thoughts still on Liz and the new bundle of joy.

“She’s so tiny!” Liz exclaimed.

Maria adjusted her weight on the couch. “She didn’t feel tiny,” she said. “She weighs over eight pounds. She must take after her father.”

Michael shot her a glance, then went to the kitchen to retrieve drinks for everyone.

“I guess this means we’ll have to get married now,” Maria sighed, as if it was something she’d resigned herself to.

“Oh, come on,” Liz baited. “You know you’ve always wanted to marry Michael.”

“As opposed to marrying someone I actually like?”

Isabel and Liz both laughed lightly – Maria and Michael’s bantering had not diminished over the years – but Max couldn’t join them. His eyes were still fixed on Liz and the squirming bundle in her arms.

As if sensing he was transfixed, Liz crossed the living room to stand before him. Swallowing hard, his eyes drifted down to the baby, who was flailing aimlessly with her arms.

“Max, do you want to hold her?” Liz asked gently.

Sensing Maria’s eyes on him and not wanting to offend the new mother, Max reached out and took the baby in his arms. She was warm and pink and smelled like baby powder. On her head, a wisp of blond hair. For one moment, she seemed to open her eyes fully and meet his with instinctual recognition. Max blinked in surprise.

“Max,” Maria said. “Meet Alyssa.”

tbc

*borrowed some lines from Blind Date

[Midwest Max]

I poked a little fun at "Graduation" in this part


Part Two

Liz’s old bedroom was pretty much air-tight, but Max could still hear the wind howling outside. Within the past year, he’d developed a keen sense of hearing, one that allowed him to pick up on things that others couldn’t. Sometimes it was a blessing, sometimes not.

The room was dark, a few shadows playing across the wall, no doubt items on the rooftop being tossed and fluttered by the wind and interrupting the glow of the streetlight outside. Snuggled under the covers, Max was spooning his wife, his eyes lazily following the patterns on the brick wall. He wasn’t sure if she was asleep or not, but they’d both been lying pretty still for the last half hour.

They’d stayed at Michael and Maria’s apartment until it was dark outside, sharing dinner with them and enjoying the company of the new baby. Max had found himself bizarrely enthralled by the little creature, but while she was fascinating, he still didn’t really want close personal contact with her. Holding that sweet little bundle of a baby made his heart ache for another baby he’d once held.

But he’d seen the joy in Liz’s face as she’d practically taken over the infant, fussing and feeding and changing and playing the mother role while Maria watched her in amusement. Liz hadn’t had any younger siblings or cousins to practice on while she was growing up, but Max had to admit that she seemed to take to the nurturing role like a duck to a water puddle. It broke his heart.

It broke his heart because he knew from the look on her face that one day Liz would ask for a child of her own. Perhaps she would want more than one. And while Max could deny her of nothing, it would rip him in two to bring another child into this uncertain, perilous world.

But that hadn’t stopped Michael and Maria, had it? They seemed comfortable with their new baby girl; there were no centurions posted at the door to make sure the FBI didn’t come in to take their daughter. No, they acted like a normal young couple with a new baby. No alien bloodline here. So why was it that they felt free to breed and Max felt so uneasy about it?

Because they hadn’t planned it. They hadn’t asked for it. Max had to think that they hadn’t even thought about the fact that someone might take their baby away from them. How else could they be so calm?

Then again, maybe he was over reacting. Maybe he always over reacted.

“I can feel that, you know,” Liz said suddenly, her voice tired and muffled against his bicep.

Max looked at the back of her head. “Feel what?”

“You – arguing with yourself. You’re wound as tight as a bedspring, Max.”

He frowned slightly. “No I’m not,” he argued unconvincingly.

Liz snorted a small laugh and tilted her head toward the mattress to kiss the inside of his arm. “Then why is this so tight?” she whispered, a smile in her voice.

Realizing she was right, he let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, then ordered his body to relax. Surprisingly, he was every bit as tense as she’d said.

“See?” she said, caressing his bare arm with her cheek. “Much better.” She snuggled into him, but he knew that the conversation wasn’t over.

Perhaps he could distract her with something else…Pulling her body tighter to his, he planted little kisses along the side of her neck, stopping to tug on her earlobe with his teeth. Liz shivered, then gave a little giggle.

“Mom and Dad are home,” she whispered.

“So?” he said against her ear, sliding his top hand under the hem of her nightshirt.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning!”

“So they’re probably asleep.”

“My bed squeaks!”

“But not that loudly.”

“We have to get up in the morning!”

“I’m already up.”

“Yes, I can see that, Max.” Liz stifled her giggle in her pillow, then rolled toward him, which he took as acquiescence. Gently, smiling, she took both of his hands in hers and laid a kiss against his knuckles. “Not tonight,” she whispered, letting him down easy. “Not while they’re here.”

Disappointment flashed in Max’s eyes. “Alright.”

Bridging the gap between them, Liz kissed him gently, then a little more intimately, ending by placing a tiny kiss on the end of his nose. “I love you, Max.”

“Not more than I love you,” he replied, giving her a soft smile. He pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest, his eyes returning to the shadows dancing on the wall.

A short amount of time passed, then she drew in a breath and Max knew she was anxious about what she was going to say.

“She’s a pretty baby,” Liz said, her tone cautious.

“She is,” Max agreed, trying for neutrality.

“So tiny. Such little fingers and toes.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Do you think she looks like Maria? Or Michael?”

“Hmm, too soon to tell.”

Liz fell silent for a little while longer, then drew in another breath. “I shouldn’t hold babies.”

Max closed his eyes, knowing what was coming. All naughty thoughts left his mind and the tension returned to his limbs.

“Because,” she continued when he didn’t reply, “it just makes me wonder what it would be like to have one of our own…” Her voice drifted off, as if she realized she’d wandered into forbidden territory.

He knew he should say something, anything to respond to her, but he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t tell her he didn’t want any more children. He couldn’t tell her that he couldn’t forbid her to have any. He couldn’t tell her he was confused and still hurt inside. So he told her something else.

“I had a dream once,” he said.

Liz tilted her head back, watching his face as he spoke.

“I dreamed that the FBI came for us. They were going to kill us, all of us. You, me, Iz, Michael.”

Liz frowned, caressed his chest in a short back-and-forth motion.

“We did the only thing we could,” Max continued. “We fled. We took Kyle and Maria with us – Kyle because he might develop powers someday and Maria because she wanted to be with Michael.”

“Where did we go?”

“Nowhere. We got into a van and hit the road.”

Liz waited for more, but none came. “Then what happened.”

Max shrugged. “That was it. The six of us in a van, always looking over our shoulders, running from one town to the next.” He paused and sighed. “What kind of way is that to live?”

She tucked her head against his chest again, but not before he saw the disappointment on her face. He knew she understood – they could be forced into that life someday and living in a van on the run was no way to bring up a child. Inside, he felt guilt for not being able to be flat-out honest with her, agony for not being able to give her what she wanted.

Finally, as a band-aid, as an attempt to add some levity to a tense situation, and as though she didn’t understand - when they both knew she really did - Liz said, “That’s kind of silly, Max.”

* * * * *

In the morning, Max sat below Liz’s bedroom, in a booth at the CrashDown. His eyes were tinted pink and there were bags beneath them. Long after sleep had taken Liz, he’d lain awake chasing his demons, managing to get only a few hours worth of sleep. Across from him, Isabel was fingering her menu as she chewed on her pinky nail.

“The croissant,” she finally decided, beaming at the more-than-patient waitress poised at the end of the booth. “With a side of fresh fruit and coffee.”

The waitress scribbled, then looked at Max, non-verbally threatening him if he took as long to decide as his sister had.

“Short stack, sausage, home fries, two eggs over-easy, wheat toast, coffee,” he said, handing his menu to the teen.

Isabel raised an eyebrow as the waitress scribbled his order and moved away without a word. “Does Liz not feed you?”

Max chuckled softly. “She does. I like breakfast.”

“And heart attacks, apparently.”

He chose to ignore her as he retrieved six sugar packets from the container, anticipating the return of their waitress with the coffee.

“So, I wanted to show you something,” Isabel said, digging in her over-sized purse. She pulled out a small photo album and laid it on the table.

Max leaned forward to look at the pictures – many shots of a house. No, not a house, a mansion.

“It has six bedrooms, a four-car garage, five thousand square feet with a private beach.”

“It’s nice,” he said passively, wondering why she was showing it to him.

“The garage also has a loft above it, an apartment big enough for a couple of people, a real cozy little place.”

“Hmm,” he said while the waitress filled his cup, then Isabel’s, then disappeared again.

“It’s out on Cape Cod.”

“Nice.”

Isabel bit her lip. “Jesse and I are going to buy it.”

Max stopped short, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, his hand poised over his steaming cup of coffee. “Really?”

She nodded, appeared embarrassed by her good fortune.

“Wow, Iz. That’s great.”

She fidgeted with her napkin, cleared her throat, touched her hair. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“That I’m happy for you?”

“Where is the money coming from.”

“None of my business.”

“Max, Jesse made partner.”

Max stopped again, this time his mouth dropping open involuntarily. He’d grown up with a father who was a lawyer and knew that making partner was not so easily done. Unless you were Jesse Ramirez apparently.

“You’re kidding,” he managed.

Isabel shook her head. “The firm is announcing it next week. That’s why he couldn’t come home with me.”

“Wow. He’s what – 28?”

She nodded this time and Max could tell she was trying to stay humble about it. Finally, he gave a little laugh.

“Let it go, Iz – you’re allowed to be happy and brag about it.”

And then there was no stopping her. Inside, Max was amused by her enthusiasm, but warmed by the fact that she was so happy. He believed that – he really believed that after all of the bad things that had happened to her, she truly was happy with her life. She deserved it. Of any of them, she deserved it the most.

“And we decided that if we were going to start a family, we’d need a bigger place than the condo we have now,” she was saying when Max tuned back in.

For the third time that morning, she’d shocked him. Isabel wanted children? Voluntarily? After all, Max and Michael had both gotten theirs by surprise…

Isabel was looking at Max with caution in her dark eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, Max.”

“I doubt it,” he said softly, no confrontation in his tone.

“I know that there should be risks, but we simply haven’t run into any threats,” she argued lightly. “No FBI. No aliens.”

“I know,” he replied, not meeting her gaze. Silence fell over the table for such a long time that he finally looked up.

“You have to stop,” Isabel said, sadness in her eyes. “I see it, Max. And I’m sure Liz sees it. You have to stop beating yourself up for letting him go.”

Leave it to Isabel to cut straight to the heart of the matter. Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not wanting to discuss this with her.

“You did the right thing.”

“Because he was Tess’s?” he snapped before he could stop himself.

Isabel withdrew slightly. “No, Max, I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I know how everyone feels, Iz. He wasn’t worthy of us. Even if I had kept him, how welcomed do you think he would have been? That poor guy would have grown up wondering why everyone hated him.”

“I wouldn’t have hated him.”

“Michael would have. So would Maria. And Liz would have had to look at him every day remembering that I betrayed her. And you want to know the worst part, Iz? Liz wants babies of her own. That means that I’m supposed to just move on with my life and have more kids that I intend to keep, all the while knowing that I tossed away my son, just because he belonged to Tess.”

Isabel’s dark eyes were round and Max realized that he’d suddenly burst forth with all of his anxieties at once. An uncomfortable silence settled over the table, during which time the waitress returned with their food. Max looked at it like it was poisoned, his appetite squelched.

After a few moments of over-buttering her croissant, Isabel quietly laid down her knife and addressed her brother in a calming tone.

“It’s done, Max. He’s gone and he isn’t coming back. Nothing is going to change that. But I can tell you this – you didn’t just toss him away. You made sure Dad found him a decent home. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

“But what if I was wrong?”

“Hindsight,” Isabel said. “It’s twenty-twenty. If you knew then what you know now, you may have kept him and dealt with everything else. But you didn’t know and you did the smart thing. It was very brave of you to let him go – I don’t know if I could have. You’re such a strong person, Max. And you’re compassionate. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t still be feeling guilty about this two years later. Why don’t you give yourself a break? Why don’t you move on with your life? Why don’t you let yourself be happy and give Liz what she wants?”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

I'll try to answer feedback later


Part Three

“I made a peach pie – fresh from the oven!”

Max looked down at the plate his mother set before him. The house smelled familiar, the scent of cinnamon and peaches hanging in the air. But more than just the smells, it felt like home.

“Unless,” Diane continued uncertainly, “you don’t like peaches.”

One corner of Max’s mouth lifted in an amused smile. “No, Mom, I like peaches. And I’ve always loved your peach pie.”

Since learning that her children were not quite of the earth, Diane Evans had been second-guessing everything she had ever done with them, especially things she had fed them. Now, reassured, she looked relieved.

“Would you like ice cream? Or whipped cream?” she asked, always anxious to please.

“No, this is fine,” Max said, picking up his fork and taking a bite. He knew she wouldn’t sit down until he did so.

As predicted, as soon as he swallowed, Diane sat down in the chair adjacent to his. She was staring, he realized, but he let her do it without protesting. Both she and Max’s father had been thrust into the alien conspiracy rather indelicately. Your son and daughter are aliens – oh, and by the way, one of them has a child. Max understood her curiosity and would have totally accepted it if she were to be bitter and resentful of his secret-keeping.

But that wasn’t what Diane was made of. She was the kind of person who would pick up a child wandering naked along side a dark road, a child who didn’t speak a word of any language, and take him home with her. When you did that – well, you got what you got.

As Max finished his pie, she reached over and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He gave her an affectionate smile and wiped his mouth on the napkin she’d laid before him.

“I saw Mrs. Deluca in the supermarket today,” Diane announced. “There’s a proud grandmother!” Her brow furrowed slightly. “She looked tired, though.”

Max caught her meaning – Amy Deluca hadn’t looked tired, but ill. Not that Diane expected Max to do anything about it; she understood that he couldn’t just go around healing every sick person in the world, if Amy was indeed unwell.

“Mom,” he began. “Do you ever think about him?”

She looked at him questioningly.

“I mean, he was your grandson too, not just my son.”

Diane gave him a comforting smile. “Yes, I think about him sometimes, Max.”

“What do you think about?”

“I imagine him growing up happy, in a loving home, with good parents.”

Max looked uncertain. “How do we know that’s where he ended up?”

Diane gave him a look of disbelief. “Because that’s what your father promised he’d do. If he said he put him with a good family, then he did. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Max looked at his empty plate, lost in thought, until her warm hand covered his.

“What’s troubling you, honey?”

He drew in a breath and sat back in his chair. “I can’t help but think I made a mistake, Mom. Maybe I should have kept him. I mean, it’s not like I’m doing anything with my life that would prevent me from being a parent to him.”

Diane gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You did the right thing,” she assured him. “I know that it was a hard decision, but regardless of how things are now, at that time it was the right thing to do.”

Max toyed with his napkin.

“What else, sweetie?”

He met her gaze uncertainly, not sure he wanted to talk about such intimate things with his mother. “Liz wants children.”

Diane beamed. “Wonderful!” Then her expression fell when she saw his lack of enthusiasm on the subject. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s guilt is what it is,” he said solemnly. “How can I honestly have children with her when I gave him away?”

Diane’s face softened. “Honey, do you really think that everyone who gives up a child never has any more? I’m sure many people go on to have families.”

“But is that wrong?”

Reaching out, she touched his confused face, her smile gentle. “What’s wrong is that you feel this need to punish yourself, Max. Your son is being taken care of by good people – Philip wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m sure he doesn’t want for anything. You were responsible in your decision and how you carried it out. Let yourself off the hook, okay?”

He nodded slightly, though inside he really didn’t feel it was that easy. Once again his eyes returned to the table. “Mom, I love Liz so much.”

“I know you do, honey.”

“And all I want is to make her happy.”

“Well, you should want yourself to be happy as well.”

He looked up at her, saw she was once again showing that gentle mother’s smile.

“You deserve happiness, too,” she said. “And don’t you think your being happy would be a part of making Liz happy?”

He hadn’t thought of it that way. Diane leaned over and kissed his cheek, then rose to clear his plate, leaving him in thought.

“Do you really have to leave today?” she asked from her spot before the sink.

“Liz has school tomorrow,” Max said, taking a sip of his coffee. Liz would return to Harvard, and he’d return to touring school kids through the marine museum. It wasn’t hard to tell whom the bread-winner in their relationship was going to be.

“Well, I’m glad you got to come home for the weekend,” Diane said, washing his dish and placing it in the drainer. “I so love seeing you and your sister.”

A little warm spot glowed beneath Max’s breastbone as a contented smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Diane Evans was definitely cut out for parenthood, as she seemed to always effortlessly bandage his wounds – both physically and emotionally.

And maybe it was an injustice to Liz to not allow her to find out if she held the same nurturing spirit.

* * * * *

On his drive back to the Parker’s apartment, Max thought about the conversation he’d had with his mother. Basically, she and Isabel had told him the same things – although Isabel had chosen the blunt route for her message.

It was wrong for Max to punish Liz with his guilt. Ugly as it was, that’s what he’d been doing. Because he felt guilty about giving up Zan, he was denying Liz motherhood. Who was he to make that decision for her? Just because he felt remorse and didn’t want himself to be happy, she should be unhappy as well? That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t being fair to her.

What was it that Maria always called him? Max the Martyr. Or Max the Aggrieved. Max the Guilty. Max the Gloomy. Mournful Max. Max the Brooding. Max the Melodramatic.

Max’s brow furrowed. It seemed that Maria had a lot of nicknames for him. Painfully enough, most of them were true.

And yet Liz Parker loved him. She loved him for all of his melodrama and gloominess. He had to wonder if sometimes his morose demeanor – there’s one Maria hadn’t thought of yet, Max the Morose – was baggage to his wife. If so, maybe it was time to give her a little happiness.

Max found himself smiling. He wanted to be a father. If things had been better, if the timing had been right, he would gladly have been a father to Zan. He could still have that, if he were only brave enough to conquer the guilt he felt over his son.

It was Monday afternoon, but the CrashDown was packed with lunchtime customers since it was a holiday, President’s Day. Today Max and Liz would get on a plane and head back to the east coast. When they got home, he would tell her that he wanted children with her. He would also come clean about why he’d been so evasive when she brought up the subject previously. She deserved honesty from him.

Max passed through the restaurant, into the backroom, then took the stairs two at a time. He’d long ago lost the restriction of knocking, so he pushed open the apartment door, his eyes automatically searching for his wife. What he found was Kyle Valenti sitting rigidly on the couch.

“Hey, Kyle,” Max said, his brow furrowed.

“Evans,” Kyle replied, then resumed staring into space.

Max studied him for a few moments, then turned to go down the hall to Liz’s room. He nearly tripped over a suitcase on the floor, which made his brow furrow deeper, then continued down the hall.

In her bedroom, Liz was hurriedly folding the remainder of her clothing and placing it into the suitcase on the bed. Max glanced at her, then back down the hallway at Kyle.

“Liz, did you know Kyle’s here?” he asked.

She nodded, turning a smile in his direction. Upon seeing him, she dropped the shirt she was folding and crossed the room to greet him. As her lips met his, he momentarily forgot about the sheriff’s son.

“I missed you,” Liz murmured, her arms around his neck, her body pressed to his.

Max grinned. “I’m glad to hear that.” With her being so close, something stirred within, something undeniable.

“How was your mom?”

“Mom,” he replied simply, his eyes drifting down her face, over her black sweater. He loved the black sweater – it was so soft and clung to all of the right places. Unable to stop himself, he brushed her breast with his fingertips.

Liz giggled, then scolded him with a tap on the nose. “Bad boy. We have a flight to catch.”

Max wasn’t sure why – perhaps all of the baby-making talk he’d been doing of late – but he had a vision of he and Liz in the airplane loo, initiating one another into the Mile High Club. The thought did nothing to quell the growing urgency in his jeans.

Liz’s eyebrows rose slightly in surprise as she glanced that way.

“I missed you too, apparently,” he laughed lightly, slightly embarrassed, then leaned down to kiss her again.

She laughed and pushed him away gently. “Kyle,” she whispered.

Oh, right. Max sighed. Last night it had been her parents. Today, it was Kyle. He couldn’t wait until they got back to Boston, where it could just be the two of them in their little apartment, when he could have her just about any time he wanted. Where they could start making their little family.

Max let out an involuntary grunt as Liz reached down and gave him one firm squeeze, then moved to finish packing her bag.

“No fair,” he said.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then at his zipper and gave him a wink. “Just setting you up for what’s to come.”

Somewhere in the last two years, Liz had become a horrible tease. To bring himself back to earth, Max scratched his head and went to help her finish folding her clothes. Only then did he remember they weren’t alone.

“Liz?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is Kyle sitting on your couch?”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, that. It seems that Kyle has, um, started to blossom, if you know what I mean.”

Max looked quickly toward the door, his mouth dropping open in surprise. It had been a very long time since he’d healed Kyle and by now most of them assumed that he wouldn’t go through the same transformations Liz had.

“Really?” Max whispered hurriedly. “But you started changing three years ago!”

“Well, I guess it’s true that girls mature faster than boys.”

Max blinked, still a little unable to believe it. “But why is he here?”

Liz’s words, innocent as they were, had the ability to disarm Max’s baby making machine entirely.

“Oh, he’s coming with us.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Four

Max flexed his arms, felt his biceps quiver, then relaxed and blew out a deep breath. He repeated the action over and over until his forehead was beaded with sweat. His weight room gone, he was forced to lay on the bedroom floor between the bed and wall, not nearly enough room for his weight bench, barely enough room to keep the bar from scraping into the drywall.

He understood, he really did. Kyle was a friend in need, and the only reason he was in need was because of Max and Liz. Max got Liz’s sense of responsibility, but Kyle wasn’t a wounded puppy – he was a full grown human being who needed a space of his own. And that space had turned out to be the spare bedroom, the old home to Max’s weights.

Max didn’t fault Liz for bringing Kyle home with them, but they really didn’t have the room. They couldn’t afford a very big apartment – theirs had a small living room attached to an even smaller kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms. That was it. When they’d been looking for a place to live, they’d realized that the space was small, but they took it as an opportunity to be close to one another. It had seemed romantic. The price had fit. So, they’d taken it. Not foreseeing that one day there would be a Valenti living with them.

Max frowned as he did another rep. Everywhere he turned, there was Kyle. If Max wanted to lie on the couch and catch the end of the game, he’d have to compromise and sit instead, allowing Kyle to have the other end. When it came time to use the bathroom, Kyle was in there too. It never failed – Max mused that somehow the gods had punished him by putting him on the same urinating schedule as their house guest. But worst of all, when it came time to make love with Liz, there was always Kyle to consider – his bedroom was on the other side of theirs and no amount of stealth would keep him from knowing what they were up to.

Frustration had led Max to the weights. He hadn’t been able to have that talk with Liz about having children. He hadn’t been able to hold her in over a week. He was in serious Liz withdrawal and it was making him cranky.

Liz’s face suddenly appeared over the edge of the bed, her smile wide; she was lying on her stomach, her head poking over the side of the mattress. “Ooh, you’re all sweaty,” she said. “I like it when you get sweaty.”

Max frowned, continued his work out. “Don’t tease me.”

Liz withdrew slightly when she realized there was no playfulness to his tone. “You okay?”

“No,” he grunted, thrusting the weights upward.

“Did I do something?”

Well, sort of. She’d brought home her ex-boyfriend to stay with them – wasn’t that something?

“Max?”

He let out a defeated sigh and rested the bar against his chest. “No, Liz, you haven’t done anything.”

“Then why the mood?”

Struggling in his confined space, Max pushed the weights off to the side and sat up, his arms trembling from the abuse. “I’m a little claustrophobic, Liz.” He tipped his head toward the living room, where Kyle was usually planted.

“He’s not here,” Liz replied, her brow furrowed slightly. “I sent him to get some groceries so we could be alone for a bit.”

Max lifted one eyebrow. “So, I get to have you when Kyle is running errands? How much time do we have? Are we supposed to hurry up and do it before he gets back?”

Liz frowned, then sat up on the bed. “God, Max, that’s so crass.”

“Maybe it is. But isn’t it the truth?”

Liz shook her head sadly and he felt a little stab of guilt. “I hadn’t intended on a quickie while he was gone,” she said quietly. “I just wanted to be alone with you. I miss you.”

Max sighed in resignation, ran a hand through his damp hair, and felt some of the frustration leaving him. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

She nodded but didn’t respond otherwise.

Cautiously, he sat down beside her and picked her hand up in his, entwined their fingers. He turned her hand over, watched the light dance off her engagement ring.

“I’m an ass,” he said, still trying to apologize. “It’s just that we’re never alone anymore, Liz. There are things I want to do, things I want to say to you that I just haven’t been able to because he’s here.”

“We’re alone now,” she offered. “What did you want to say?”

Max looked down at their fingers woven together, bound for life. “It’s not a conversation I want to get into knowing I have a limited amount of time.”

Liz’s dark eyes were round. “Ut oh. That sounds serious.”

“It is serious.”

She swallowed and looked momentarily worried. Reaching out, Max cupped her cheek.

“It’s not bad,” he assured her. “It’s good, actually. I want the moment to be right, to be special. Not hurried because Kyle’s going to be back with a pot roast any minute.”

Liz laughed lightly, but still looked intrigued.

“Can you wait?” he asked. “Will you wait until the time is right?”

She nodded and squeezed his hand. Her eyes settled on his lips, then one corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk. “Um, Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I said about not wanting a quickie? I think I’ve changed my mind.”

A few minutes later, panting and sweatier than he had been, Max stared at the ceiling and tried to catch his breath. “You planned that all along,” he accused lightly.

Liz laughed, brushing her mussed hair from her face. “Not really. But the opportunity was there so I had to take it.”

With that, she rose and started brushing her hair before the dresser mirror. Max watched her and couldn’t stop the grin that came to his face – she might make herself tidy, but there was no amount of fussing that would get rid of her post-coital glow.

“I wanted to talk to you about Kyle,” Liz said, still watching her reflection in the mirror.

Max’s satisfied smile dissipated immediately.

Liz caught his gaze in the mirror, understanding in her eyes. “I need your help, Max. I can’t do this alone.”

Max flopped back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling again. Within a few moments, Liz climbed onto the bed beside him and lay down facing him. Knowing a sure way to get his attention, she put her small hand in the center of his chest; Max could never ignore her when their bodies touched.

“He’s scared,” she said, a world of compassion written on her face. “I know I was scared when I started to change. I know how he feels.”

“I understand that,” Max said, trying to keep his patience in check.

“Then I need you to help him.”

The truth was that Max and Kyle were still dancing around one another, waiting for the other shoe to fall. Max by nature was everything Kyle had been raised to be leery of – in short, he was an alien. Kyle, on the other hand, was everything that Max had grown to not trust – the son of a law enforcement officer, his wife’s ex-boyfriend, the man he’d found his true love in bed with. Granted, it was all a ruse, but it still threw up a warning flag where Kyle was concerned – if he could betray Max in that way, what other way would he?

“I can’t help him. He doesn’t trust me,” Max settled on.

“And you don’t trust him,” Liz tacked on bluntly.

Max looked at her with a small bit of surprise.

“You’re transparent when it comes to Kyle,” she said in explanation. “He doesn’t trust you because you don’t trust him.”

Max looked past her, at the wall. Was that true?

“We’re in this together now,” Liz said, her voice softer than it had been. “Kyle’s one of us. Do you really think he’s going to go running to the authorities when he’s randomly melting things he touches?”

Well, there had been the TV remote. And one of the kitchen chairs. And the doorknob to the utility closet. And Max’s favorite coffee cup.

But those were all physical things. It was Max’s heart that was really the problem.

Liz seemed to realize that at the same time Max did. “Oh, no,” she said, snorting a small laugh. “Are you still holding that against him?”

Max flushed lightly. “Well…”

“It was two and a half years ago!”

“He was in bed with you, Liz.”

“He was clothed! I was clothed!”

“He set me up.”

“So did I and you seem to trust me!”

She had a point there. A point that he had no comeback to. His mouth hung open for a few seconds until he decided no response was the best response. Leaning over him, Liz kissed him gently on the lips, then laid her head against his chest.

“My heart belongs to you alone,” she said softly. “I brought Kyle here because he’s our friend. I need you to help him. I need you to be with him and teach him things when I can’t. I need you to trust him a little so that he’ll trust you. Can you do that – for me?”

Max fixed his gaze on the ceiling and pondered why it was that no matter what she asked of him, he could never say no.

And that was how he found himself trying to initiate conversation after dinner. While Liz was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, Max sat down beside Kyle on the couch and turned off the TV.

“Dude,” Kyle protested, gesturing toward the black screen. “I was watching that.”

“I know,” Max said. “But we need to talk.”

Kyle blanched. “You’re kicking me out, right?”

Max shook his head. “No, nothing like that. I want to – um, I want to help you.”

Kyle blinked once, twice, then said, “’Kay.” He scratched his head. “With what?”

“Your powers.” Max glanced up, saw Liz sneaking a peek his way. She looked satisfied, and sometimes that’s all that mattered to him.

“Oh. ‘Kay.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, a stand-off of sorts, then Max drew in a breath and pressed forward. “What can you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you can do something because you melted my Starbuck’s cup.”

Kyle folded his hands together and bounced his thumbs against one another. Finally, he said, “Well, there is one thing.”

Max raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah?”

“I think I can read minds.”

“You can read minds?”

Kyle nodded eagerly. “Yep. Clear as a bell. And I have to tell you, man, you’ve got some nasty little thoughts in that noggin of yours.”

Max withdrew, looking guilty, startled and embarrassed all at once.

“Oh, yeah,” Kyle continued. “I’ve seen them all. And you know what? If that little lady in there – ” he gestured toward Liz “ – if she knew what I knew, she’d never stop slapping you. Dirty dog.”

Every impure thought Max had ever had suddenly came to mind, ironically in the presence of someone who had just told him he could read his thoughts.

“See?” Kyle baited. “You’re doing it again.”

Max colored darker this time, hurriedly tried to push the naughtiness from his head.

“That won’t help,” Kyle said. “I can still feel them – back in those dark, cloudy recesses of your brain. Seriously – who has those thoughts about their biology teacher?”

In that moment, Max realized that Kyle had been egging him on. He couldn’t read minds any more than any of the other hybrids could. It had all been a joke and once again Max couldn’t trust him.

So it was only natural when three days later Kyle came to him and told him that he could see through solid objects that Max didn’t believe him.

Until Kyle announced that Max was wearing navy blue boxer briefs.

And that Liz had been wearing pink panties when she’d left that morning.

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Five

“And this is the loft,” Isabel said, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs.

Max followed behind her, his boots echoing on the wooden steps. As he pulled to a stop beside his sister, he took in the large space above the garage. The place was nearly empty, dusty from not being used, a few boxes stacked in one corner. On the far end of the loft, a small door swung outward – a bathroom? To his left, Max saw a small kitchen, then mused that it was still bigger than the one he and Liz shared. Well, he, Liz and Kyle shared.

“What do you think?” Isabel asked, barely able to contain her grin.

The tour of the house had taken awhile – the place was huge. Even when the group was done taking in the inside of the house, there had been dormant gardens to visit, not to mention that frozen beach front. That’s where they’d lost Liz and Kyle; having never seen it before, Kyle had become engrossed with the ocean and Liz had stayed behind with him. Now the tour had ended with a quick walk through the garage and a longer stay in the loft above.

“I think you need more space,” Max finally said, his tone serious.

Isabel spun on him, her perfectly manicured eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Then Max smiled and she smacked him on the arm. “What do you really think?”

“I think it’s amazing, Iz.”

Even though she was proud of Jesse’s success, Isabel still blushed. “Thanks, Max.”

“I mean it,” Max said tenderly. “It’s great to see that you’ve worked things out, that you can enjoy a place like this.”

Isabel’s expression was a little sad, and Max knew why – it had taken a lot of walking on thin ice in the last two years for her to win back Jesse’s trust. After all, she’d proven to be quite the liar while they were dating and even in the first few months of their marriage. Once you’re proven to be a fraud, how do you prove you’re not something you’re perceived to be?

“You have worked things out, haven’t you?” Max asked cautiously.

Isabel let out a sigh and crossed the hard wood floor of the loft, going to stand before the window near the bathroom. “Some days I think all of that is behind us,” she said, her gaze fixed outside. “Other days, I catch him looking at me and I can still see the doubt in his eyes. I don’t think he trusts me entirely. I don’t think he ever will.”

Max frowned in empathy, then walked over to join her by the window. Far away, on the beach, Kyle and Liz were tossing snowballs at one another. Speaking of not trusting someone…

“Kyle can see through things,” Max said.

Isabel looked over at her brother, surprise in her eyes.

“And the thing that gnaws at me is that I have to wonder half the time if he’s looking through Liz’s clothes.”

“Aw, Max,” Isabel said, tilting her head to the side in sympathetic understanding.

“He could be doing it right now. Looking right through her coat. Or her pants.” Max’s jaw set in semi-anger.

Isabel looked out the window at her friends and reached over to rub Max’s arm in comfort. “Do you really think Kyle would do that?”

“Yes.”

She met his eyes again and could still see a world of hurt in them. “Jesse won’t ever trust me entirely and you’ll never trust Kyle, will you?”

Silently, Max shook his head.

“I don’t think he’d ever hurt you,” she said gently.

“He already did.”

Isabel sighed, turned her brother away from the window. “You’ve gotta let it go, Max.”

“How? How can I just let that go?”

“How did you forgive Liz?”

There was that question again. Posed two days ago by Liz, and now by Isabel. He had no answer for it.

“If you can forgive Liz, you can forgive Kyle of the same crime,” Isabel said bluntly, stopping to swing the bathroom door closed, her eyes falling to the dust bunnies that had accumulated behind it.

“But what if he does something like that again?”

At that, Isabel laughed. Not a giggle or a chuckle, but a full-out belly-laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max’s brow furrowed, knowing she was making fun of him on some level.

“My dear brother,” she began in a tone that told him she was indeed about to ridicule him. “Do you honestly think that Liz would let him get into bed with her again?”

Max couldn’t bear to think she could.

“She’s never wanted Kyle, Max. She’s always been head over heels for you – even more so since you got married. Every time I see her, she’s staring at you with stars in her eyes. So, it doesn’t really matter if Kyle did try to make a move – which I don’t think he would – because she’d never let him get past the door.”

Max’s eyes drifted back out of the window and he watched Liz and Kyle walking toward the big house. True, Liz probably wouldn’t entertain Kyle in that way, but there was no stopping Kyle from looking through her clothes.

Isabel cleared her throat to draw his attention. “How is it with him staying with you?”

Max frowned. “Cramped.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said, walking to the center of the loft and stuffing her hands into her pockets. “You know, it’s cold in here now, but it does have heat.”

Max looked at her curiously.

“And I’m willing to bet with a little cleaning up, it would be kind of nice. Maybe a braided rug over there, a couch and chair here. And the bed back by the window, near the bathroom. I bet it would be cozy.”

Max looked around the space, mentally pictured what she was describing. Yes, it probably would be nice. But – for whom?

Isabel pivoted on one boot heel and cast her most glamorous smile in his direction. “I’m willing to bet with a little cajoling, Kyle might be convinced to move in here.”

For the first time in weeks, Max’s heart literally leapt inside of his chest. He couldn’t keep the reaction from reaching his face. “You would really do that?”

“Sure,” she answered nonchalantly. “Why not? I mean, he could stay in the house if he wanted to, but Jesse and I are trying to have a baby and all of that noise might irritate him after a while.” She winked, but Max blushed – things he didn’t want to picture his sister doing. “And this would give him his own space. I’m not working right now, so I could spend my days helping him with his powers.”

Max’s grin reached from one ear to the other. Then he looked out the window, saw Liz and Kyle rounding the house and his smile faded. Kyle slid on a patch of ice and tumbled to the sidewalk, a desert kid unaccustomed to slippery spots, and he and Liz both laughed.

“She’s going to think this was my idea,” Max said glumly.

“No she won’t,” Isabel countered with a laugh. “I’m going to bring Kyle up here and show him the place. I’ll talk a lot and when all is said and done, he’ll think it was his idea.”

* * * * *

Three days later, Kyle Valenti was moved into the loft above the Ramirez’s garage. Max lay on his bed, enjoying the silence in the apartment. No television running twenty-four hours a day, no plates spontaneously combusting, no Kyle looking through Liz’s clothes. Life was good.

Nighttime had fallen over Boston and Max had already prepared for bed. Liz was moving about the apartment, turning off lights as she went. She breezed through the bedroom long enough to tape a picture to the mirror above the dresser, then she was off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Lifting his head, Max tried to get a good look at the photo, but couldn’t make it out; he got up and walked over to the dresser.

The photo was of Maria and baby Alyssa, who was quite possibly the prettiest baby Max had ever seen. She was a month old now, the “wet chicken” look of a newborn baby long gone. Her eyes were round and dark, her hair a little darker blond than when she’d been born. Max stared at her likeness for a long time, then turned and silently sought out his wife.

Liz was in the bathroom, using a white towel to wipe the remains of facial cleanser from her face. In the mirror, her eyes shifted to him as he walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

“It’s so quiet,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, nuzzling her hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck.

“It was nice of Isabel to offer Kyle a place to stay.”

“I heard it was his idea,” Max murmured, pulling the collar of her robe aside to kiss her shoulder.

“Either way, it’s nice that he has a bigger place.”

“And we have our place back.” He slid one hand inside of her robe and she giggled.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Evans?” she teased.

“Sinning,” he said simply.

“Oh, I hate when that happens,” she replied, closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of his lips on her skin.

Max caught sight of them in the mirror and momentarily stopped his advances. Liz opened her eyes, met his gaze in the mirror.

“What?” she said.

Reaching past her, Max pulled open the medicine chest, found her birth control pills and tossed them into the trash. Liz’s head moved with his movements, then froze as she looked at the dial-shaped container in the waste basket. For a few very long moments, there was no motion whatsoever in the small bathroom. Then Liz swallowed hard and looked at him in the mirror again.

“Max…” was all she could manage to say.

“This is what I wanted to talk about,” he explained carefully.

Liz blinked, then squirmed around so that she was facing him, her expression one of confusion. “I don’t...um, I don’t understand.”

Smiling gently at her, he pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve done a lot of thinking,” he started slowly. “I know you and I don’t talk about it, and I know that’s a problem. So I want to talk about it now. You want children. Am I right?”

Silently, she nodded her head.

“And you probably know that I wasn’t so sure that I did.”

Another nod, more cautious this time.

“But I realized that I’m being very selfish, Liz. What happened happened. I gave him away, I’m no longer his father. And just because I feel guilty for that, it doesn’t give me the right to deny you of what you want.”

“Max,” Liz began with a humorless laugh. “It can’t be just what I want. You have to want it to.”

“I do, Liz.”

At that, she cocked her head to the side, unwilling to believe it.

Max took her hands in his and brought them close to his chest. “I want that – with you. I want to be a father, I want to have pretty little girls or cute little boys with you. I want to raise a family – but only if I can do it with you.”

“And what about the FBI? And the other aliens out there?” Her tone reminded him of a night in which they’d stood together under a street lamp while he’d professed his love for her – she wanted to believe him, but there was simply too much caution in her head.

“What about them?” he asked. “It hasn’t stopped Michael and Maria. It won’t stop Jesse and Isabel. Why should they be able to have children and we can’t? Liz, we don’t even know if there is a threat anymore. I’m tired of living life from one day to the next. I want a future. I want this. I want you. I want our kids.”

Liz met his gaze steadily for a few seconds, then tears glistened in her dark eyes and her face contorted. Max felt his heart constrict at the sight of such a weight being lifted from her shoulders.

“Do you mean it?” she asked shakily.

He nodded, gave her a reassuring smile. “Absolutely.”

Then she threw her arms around him and wept tears of joy into his shoulder. Max closed his eyes, buried his face in her hair, held her so tightly he was afraid he’d crush her. Soon he was lifting her to the vanity, untying her robe and pushing it aside, kissing her everywhere.

“Max,” Liz gasped breathlessly, her fingers woven in his hair.

“Yeah,” he replied, trailing kisses between her breasts.

“Let me finish school first. Then I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Warning - transitional chapter ahead


Part Six

During the spring of 2004, the pieces of Max’s broken life seemed to be finally slipping back into place. He felt a little lighter, a little freer and he had to believe that the lifting of his gloom was directly related to having finally let his son go.

Biologically, Max would always be Zan’s father. In the way that really mattered – the nurturing, parental way – he never would be. On some level he’d heard what his mother had said to him that day – if Philip Evans had promised a good home to baby Zan, then that was what he’d gotten.

Some days, Max would imagine what his son’s life was like. Where had he ended up? Did he have any other brothers or sisters? Did his mom bake cookies for him like Max’s used to? But the difference now was that Max could think about Zan in passing, not in obsession. He’d meant what he’d said to Liz – he’d made his decision and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Zan had a new family, probably one that was happy to have him. He would never, ever know that Max was his father. Simply, because he didn’t need to know.

Human, that’s the word Tess had used. Her human part – yes, apparently she did have one – and Max’s human part had formed a perfect little human being. Zan wasn’t an alien and he didn’t need to be burdened with all the strife that being alien could bring. In truth, Max’s pining for his son was selfish to the point that he would risk bringing the child back into all that being alien entailed. No, Zan had been set free. And that was the best place for him to be.

Max could accept Zan being removed from the alien abyss, and yet he still felt brave enough to pursue a family with Liz. Maybe that was because there hadn’t been a threat of any kind in over two years. In truth, the last real threat to their existence had come at the hands of one of their own. And she was long gone.

So maybe there was no more FBI breathing down their necks. Maybe there weren’t any other aliens on the planet, either. After all, by now most of the Skin husks had to have disintegrated. And other than the Skins, the hybrids had never encountered another alien life form (other than that silly jelly fish, which Max was trying with all determination to wipe from his memory). It was possible they were alone on earth, just the three of them, and possibly three remaining duplicates.

Sometimes Max wondered about the extras, the identical twins that had been raised in New York. He knew that his duplicate, Zan, was deceased. Whatever became of Lonnie, Rath and Ava was unknown. Lonnie and Rath hadn’t been seen since they’d tried to kill Max after the summit in New York – Max had always thought that maybe Tess had eliminated them. But, nothing had been heard of Ava either, who had left on amicable terms, so silence did not necessarily mean non-existence.

Even though he wondered about the dupes, Max didn’t worry about them. As far as he was concerned, if they wanted the rule of Antar, let them have it. Because Max wasn’t interested. Not one iota.

His life was here now, on earth, with his beautiful little wife. Throughout the spring, he watched her juggle a tough curriculum, many nights staying up into the wee hours getting her assignments done. She was diligent in her studies, never slacking off, even in the face of his endless affections. What marveled Max was that she could make time for him as well. Without ever seeming over-stressed, she would manage to get her studying done and still be able to give him the attention he so craved.

And he did crave being with her. Sometimes he felt like he’d go into withdrawal if he didn’t get to spend a little extra time with her. And it wasn’t just sex – it was merely being given permission to be in her presence. He’d gladly sit in the same room and watch her write a paper for English Comp, never even having to exchange a word with her. In truth, it astounded him that she had forgiven him enough to let him be this close to her, married to her, talking about having a family with her.

Max would worship Liz every day simply for granting him absolution. No one would ever do anything as generous for him.

While Max and Liz put their baby-making plans on hold, Michael and Maria were dealing with already being parents. Though Michael seemed to be his old self, Max could detect a hint of frustration behind his voice when he called every now and then to check in. Liz had voiced the same about Maria, though the signals were a little less subtle with the new mother.

Life had changed drastically for Michael and Maria. Once upon a time, Maria had seen herself jetting off to the big city in search of her dreams of recording an album. Before she could put that plan in action, she and Michael had produced Alyssa instead. Plans were cancelled and life took a definite detour.

The wedding had been hasty – a trip to the court house – and over with so quickly that none of the east-coasters had had time to travel to Roswell for it. Liz was wrought with disappointment, always envisioning herself as Maria’s bridesmaid, until Max reminded her that none of their friends and family had been present when they tied the knot either. She’d argued back lightly that they had at least thrown a small party at the Crashdown when they’d gotten home and Michael and Maria hadn’t even done that. It was like they didn’t want anyone to share in their joy of being married. If there was any joy.

Max had his doubts. He really believed that Michael loved Maria and vice versa, but sometimes it was hard to love the person you loved the most. They were both stubborn, damaged, awkward in their relationship. He hoped they could make it work, but he did have his doubts.

As summer rolled into Boston on a wave of humidity, Harvard students were released until the fall term and Max reveled in having Liz home every night, relaxed, waiting for him when he got home from the museum. On his off days, they would take short day trips, playing the role of tourist.

They drove north to Franconia Notch State Park to see the Old Man of the Mountain, where Liz’s scientific mind immediately went into overdrive trying to figure out why the boulders forming the Old Man’s face hadn’t yet succumbed to erosion or the occasional earthquake. Max laughed and held her close, telling her just to enjoy the magic for what it was.

They went to Fenway Park to catch a baseball game. They drove out to Cape Cod and spent days at a time lying on the beach, both of them tanning a deep golden brown in the hot sun. They drove to Washington DC, walked the Mall, snapped pictures, stood in devastated silence before the Vietnam Memorial. A somber mood set over them until, walking back to their car, Max commented that the size of the Washington Monument spoke volumes about what kind of men had settled this country. And Liz had laughed off and on all of the way home.

In late July, Isabel called with news she couldn’t contain any longer – she and Jesse were expecting their first child. She said she’d known it almost as soon as the conception occurred. It was a boy, too. She didn’t know how she knew – she just did.

Max was elated that his sister was going to be a mother. It made him feel hope inside that soon he and Liz would join Isabel and Michael on that front. After all, it was a human thing to do to start a family. A normal thing to do.

At the marine museum, Max found new purpose in leading the tours through the many displays. At first it had just been a job, something to help pay the rent. He hated talking before groups of people and every now and then a precocious kid would put him on the spot and fire off questions hoping there was one he couldn’t answer thereby making him look like a fool. Those days used to put him into a depressed funk, but now he welcomed the challenge. It was a job, yes, but he was there to serve a purpose – a perfectly normal purpose – and more often than not would make a joke instead of letting the child bait him with question after question.

In short, Max was loosening up.

“This is the giant squid,” he said to a group of about thirty day campers and their chaperones as he pulled to a stop before a massive tank. Some of the kids gasped and others looked a little ill.

“That thing’s dead,” a red-headed boy near the front said in disgust, as if Max was trying to pull something over on him.

“Yes, it is,” Max agreed cheerfully. “No one has actually ever seen a live one.”

“Then how do you know they’re real?”

Max looked over his shoulder at the huge specimen floating in a tank of formaldehyde. “Oh, he’s real alright.”

“Where did you get him?”

Max pointed to a series of photos to the side of the tank. “These men recovered the squid on a beach in Nova Scotia, where it had washed up after it died.”

The children’s’ eyes roamed the pictures of men in SCUBA suits circling the behemoth and preparing to lift it onto a waiting ship.

“It looks like an alien,” the red-haired boy said.

Startled, Max’s head whipped toward the boy, who was standing with his nose only a few inches from the tank. In a response honed over the years, Max quickly pasted on the mask he’d worn most of his life.

“How do you know it looks like an alien?” he asked the boy.

The kid’s nose wrinkled and he gestured in the general direction of the head of the squid. “The big lumpy head, the big eyeball.”

“And aliens have big lumpy heads and eyeballs?”

The boy turned incredulous eyes to Max. “Well, yeah.”

“How do you know?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

The boy hesitated, then noticed all of his camp mates looking at him with great interest. Inside, Max giggled to himself – the kid had talked himself into a hole. If he said no, then they’d know he was blowing smoke about the squid looking like an alien. If he said yes, they’d laugh at him. With a tug of compassion for the boy, Max decided to let him off the hook.

“Maybe the squids are aliens,” he offered and saw a flash of relief on the boy’s face. “Maybe that’s why they’re so good at avoiding us. I mean, I’ve never seen an alien or a live squid, so if you add two and two…”

One of the chaperones was looking at him disapprovingly. Apparently she didn’t care for tall tales for entertainment’s sake.

“Of course,” Max amended, “this one has been tested and found to be 100% sea creature. Let’s move on the final exhibit, just around the corner.”

After the tourists left, Max prepared to leave for the evening, all the while thinking about taking Liz out for a late dinner. She loved the harbor, loved seafood. Maybe they could get a table on a deck somewhere, sit until the stars came out or they were kicked out, whichever came first.

As he walked to his car, Max felt a sense of calm deep inside. This was how life was supposed to be – a fun day at work, a pretty wife at home, contentment. Instead of dreading it, he was looking forward to the future, to the children they would have, to whatever path life might lead them on. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did, as long as they were together.

Let's just keep running, you and me, away from here, away from everything. I see everything so clearly now. We'll go someplace where no one knows us. As long as we're together, nothing else matters.

Max smiled at the memory, stuffed his hand into his pocket to retrieve his car keys. The sun was almost down, already having disappeared behind the tall buildings of Boston, probably only visible from the beach. But Max was moving away from the beach, toward a dark alley, to the back of the museum.

His smile faded away when he spied a figure at the opposite end of the alley. Max was more than capable of defending himself by whatever means necessary, so an ordinary mugger would not have halted him in his tracks the way this person had. A shiver ran up Max’s spine, making every tiny hair stand on end. Inside his brain, a claxon went off, identifying this being as something not quite human, something definitely alien.

In that moment, Max felt his perfectly normal world crashing in on him, never to be recovered.

tbc

**used lines from Blind Date

[Midwest Max]

Part Seven

For a moment, Max stopped thinking, his mind suddenly very numb. He couldn’t make himself reason his way out of the situation before him, he couldn’t make his feet move in any direction. For one moment of ignorant bliss, he felt separated from his body. And then reality came knocking.

The only time he’d ever encountered an alien on his own was when he’d traveled to California to track down Cal Langley, the dupes’ protector. When any other alien had been discovered, he’d always been in the company of one of the others. Not now. Now he was alone in a dark alley with a brick of a creature waiting for him at the other end.

Quickly, Max’s brain searched for the answer. How to protect himself? He couldn’t blast – that gift had been reserved for the other hybrids, and acquired by Liz. He couldn’t make himself disappear. He couldn’t mindwarp the being into thinking he’d disappeared. He couldn’t teleport himself away from there. He could throw up the shield, but eventually even that gave out, when he became too weary to keep the energy flow going – by then, the monstrous alien at the end of the alley was sure to have ripped him to shreds.

Max finally settled on his only option, a truly human resolution. He ran.

In a few short steps, Max’s mind raced quicker than his feet. He thought of Michael and Isabel, wished they were there to help him out of this. He thought of Liz, waiting for him at home, wondering where they would go for dinner. How long would she wait until she started to worry? He thought about the babies he wanted to have, about how some of his peace of mind had been sharply ripped away from him by the simple appearance of an alien outside of the museum.

All of those thoughts took about two seconds – long enough for Max to realize that there was another alien at the opposite end of the alley. He pulled to a stop so quickly that his shoes chirped on the pavement. Eyes wild and chest heaving, he spun around and found that the alien from the far end of the alley had disappeared. Frantic, his eyes swept skyward, waiting for the creature to drop on him from the above. When he realized there was nothing above him, Max looked quickly to the alien now blocking his path. With a chill, he realized it wasn’t another alien.

It was the same alien.

Max was still frantically trying to figure out how the alien had ended up at the other end of the alley – ran past Max so fast he couldn’t be seen? Teleported? Flew? – when he realized he finally had a clear visual on the man.

The alien stood well over six feet tall, his shoulders the broadest Max had ever seen. Though he was clad in a very expensive suit, Max could still make out the alien’s enormous biceps, the expanse of his muscular chest. His hair was short-cropped, a military cut, his eyes shielded behind sun glasses even though it was dark.

All of this Max observed in a matter of seconds and none of it did anything to quell the panic in his body. How was he ever going to get away from this thing when it could beat him so easily?

“You must come with me,” the alien said, his voice such a deep baritone that it totally took Max off guard. The shock of the alien’s timbre was quickly replaced by the fact that he’d spoken English.

Max didn’t respond in any visible way.

“You must come with me,” the alien repeated.

Max glanced down the alley, thinking his car seemed so far away. Liz seemed so far away. Out of reach. He was going to die and maybe dissolve into a pile of dust in this dank Boston alley and she would never know what became of him. His soul ached at the thought, so badly that his eyebrows rose and drew together in agony.

“You must come with me,” the alien said again, no sign of impatience in his tone. “Your majesty.”

Once again, Max’s mind shut down, unable to form a reaction to what his visitor had just said. His mouth slid open in disbelief as he watched the stoic creature before him, the behemoth with the voice like cannon fire.

He’d lost his mind, plain and simple. Finally, it all made sense – he hadn’t been sane a day in his life. All of the alien stuff was just a figment of his imagination. There was no such thing as aliens, or Skins or whatever. He wasn’t a king, there wasn’t a planet called Antar. And there definitely wasn’t a massive alien standing before him calling him ‘Your majesty.’

He would just go home, take a nap, let Liz smooth his hair while he tried to get his mind back. It shouldn’t take long, not with her gentle touch. Then one day they’d all look back on this and laugh. Hey, Max, remember when you thought you were an alien king?

In truth, it was easier to believe he was going crazy than to accept the fact that he most definitely was not free of his destiny.

Turning on his heel, turning his back on his visitor, Max fished his keys out of his pocket and tried to walk away from the unavoidable. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even think about looking back. He was going to walk straight to his beat-up Chevelle, climb behind the wheel, pray that it started, and then he was going home. His earth home – the only one he’d ever wanted.

No sounds of footsteps followed him and Max allowed himself to believe that he could simply walk away. It could be that easy. Then he exited the alley and found the hulking alien standing beside the Chevelle, his hands crossed low before him. Max stopped in his tracks, dread seeping into every pore.

“For your own safety, you must come with me,” the alien said, his tone level, just about totally emotionless.

Max’s eyes shifted to the Chevelle – he was no closer to it now than he had been at the other end of the alley. He couldn’t get past this formidable creature, get behind the wheel and peel out before the alien grabbed him by the collar and wrung his neck.

“You must trust me,” the alien said.

“I can’t,” Max finally replied.

“You must.”

“I don’t even know who you are.”

At that, the alien tipped its head curiously to the side, as though he hadn’t considered that Max wouldn’t recognize him. “My name is Darmon, I am a member of the Royal Guard. I am your protector.”

Max’s eyebrows shot straight upward. “My protector? I had a protector. He got me captured and tortured, then he bartered my life for some reason I never really understood.”

“He was not your protector,” Darmon said evenly. “You must come with me.”

Max snorted, some of his fear replaced with cocky defiance. “No.”

There – that ought to send him away. From what Max remembered of Cal Langley, the protectors had to obey Max’s direct orders, regardless if they agreed with them or not.

But Darmon only hesitated a moment, then rounded the car and climbed into the passenger side.

Inside, Max’s hair stood on end. Now he was really screwed – not only could be not leave in his car, he couldn’t even get into his car, not with that scary alien in the passenger seat. Darmon was sitting passively, like a Labrador waiting for a trip with its master.

“What’re you doing?” Max asked, still startled, not moving any closer to the car.

Darmon’s head turned in his direction, his eyes still shielded by the glasses. “I cannot leave you. If you won’t come with me, I will come with you.”

Max swallowed hard – he was afraid of that. Now what should he do? Make another run for it? Just for Darmon to cut him off again? They could go at this all night.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Max attempted. There – mistaken identity.

Without a word, Darmon climbed from the car and walked briskly toward Max, who started to lean away defensively. Male pride alone made him stand his ground as the alien stopped before him – but it didn’t stop him from flinching when Darmon reached around and touched the back of his head.

A few seconds later, the small parking lot was filled with a bluish glow. On the brick wall of an adjacent building, five blue orbs glowed brilliantly, forming the V constellation. Max let out an involuntary shriek and jerked away from his tormentor, the glow disappearing immediately.

“You are who I think you are,” Darmon said flatly, then returned to his seat in the Chevelle.

Max remained frozen in his tracks, his world spinning more and more rapidly out of control. Not ten minutes ago, he’d been thinking about an ocean-side dinner with his wife, about maybe taking her on a walk down the beach, about maybe asking her to lie down with him in the moonlit sand, about worshipping her until the sun came up. His cell phone weighed heavily in the pocket of his jeans. He could call her, tell her what had happened, tell her not to worry…

Max’s eyes shifted to the passive alien and he gave a subconscious shake of his head. No, he would do nothing to draw attention to Liz. She would remain anonymous to these people. With any luck, he could find out what they wanted, fix whatever it was they needed, then send them on their way. All issues resolved in one tidy episode.

Ignoring the cell, Max walked cautiously to the driver’s side of his car, but he didn’t get in.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

Darmon turned his head in Max’s direction and Max assumed he was looking at him. “You were where I last left you.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “Where you last left me?”

Darmon’s head turned toward the museum. Max followed his gaze and confusion cluttered his head.

“Where did you leave me?” he pressed.

“Here.”

Max gave a laugh. “Sure you did.”

“This afternoon,” Darmon continued. “After you consumed a sandwich and a beverage at the establishment on the corner.”

All of the color drained from Max’s face. He had picked up lunch at the local deli before reporting for his shift. Taking a step backward, he felt the flight instinct kicking in full force again. This person was a stalker – and nothing good ever came out of being stalked.

“At ten years of age you accidentally broke the neighbor’s window with a football.”

Max’s eyes snapped back to the alien.

“At twelve years of age you told your second that you would help him run away to Mexico if he wanted to.”

Max’s mouth dropped open again.

“At fifteen years of age you dented your father’s car while moving the garbage can and used your powers to cover the damage.”

“Oh, God…”

“At sixteen years of age you healed a human after a shooting in a café, drawing attention to yourself and the other hybrids.”

Max’s heart sank to his toes. They knew about Liz.

“Your majesty,” Darmon said. “I have watched you during your entire life here on Earth. That life is now in danger. Please come with me.”

Perhaps it was because Darmon had recited all of those events from Max’s past, or perhaps it was because there was a slight urgency in the alien’s tone, or maybe simply because he’d used the word ‘please,’ Max let his guard down and climbed into the car.

Before he could start the car, however, Max caught a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror and quickly whirled around. In the back seat sat a very beautiful woman, also wearing a fine suit and a pair of sunglasses.

“Your majesty,” Darmon said without looking. “This is my life partner. This is Aubrey.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Eight

It was a dream. It had to be. Or maybe a hallucination – something alcoholic got mixed in with his Diet Coke earlier when he ate lunch? It either had to be a dream or a hallucination because there was absolutely no way that Max was speeding down I-95 with two aliens in his car.

The worst part was that neither of them spoke, rather simply sat passively while Max drove into the night. He’d been given no direction other than to start driving and now a good forty five minutes had passed. With each mile he put behind them, he felt Liz slipping away and that thought terrified him. What if these weren’t benevolent aliens and their whole intent was to separate Max and Liz? If that were the case, then Liz could be in some serious jeopardy at that very moment.

Max’s eyes shifted to the review mirror, to Darmon’s “life partner”. What did that mean? Were they spouses? Or just thrown into the Royal Guard with a life sentence to be serve together? Better yet – what were they? Skin? Antarian? Something entirely different?

“I want some answers,” Max finally demanded from behind the wheel.

Darmon’s head turned in his direction, but he remained silent.

“Take off the glasses,” Max ordered, impatience evident in his tone.

His actions slow and calm, Darmon reached up and pulled the Ray Bans away from his face. Max had expected to see a black void where the alien’s eyes were supposed to be, so he was startled to find that Darmon had normal-looking eyes, dark in color. He didn’t let that surprise show, though, as he shifted his sight to the rearview mirror.

“You too,” he ordered tersely.

With the same unhurried motion, Aubrey removed her shades as well. No black orbs there either – just a pair of stunning blue eyes.

“I want to know who you are,” Max said.

“We’re agents of the Royal Guard,” Darmon recited automatically. “I am Agent Darmon. That is Agent Aubrey, my life partner.”

A little flare of anger sparked in Max’s gut. “What the fuck is that?” He expected Darmon to recoil at his use of language, but the alien remained stoic.

“We are bound, much as you are bound to your life partner,” he explained.

Something crushed inside of Max’s chest. Liz. He’d been right – they knew about her. They probably knew where she was. They could harm her if they chose.

“So you’re married?” he asked, forcing himself to remain aggressive and unflappable. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Darmon gave a shrug of his shoulders. “If that’s the term you choose to use, majesty.”

“Stop calling me that!” Anxiety and anger caused Max’s words to burst forward unintentionally.

“As you wish,” Darmon replied, not unnerved in the slightest. “How would you prefer to be addressed?”

Max shot him a glance, felt his anger bubbling dangerously near the surface. Quickly glancing behind them so that he wouldn’t cause an accident, he jerked the wheel hard to the right and pulled the car into the breakdown lane. As he slammed the old Chevelle into park, he twisted in his seat to confront his visitors.

“I want to know something,” he hissed.

“As you wish,” Darmon replied calmly.

“I want to know how you knew about all of those things I did when I was a kid.”

“Because I’ve been watching you, protecting you.”

“How can you say that? How can you say that you were protecting me when the FBI hauled my ass off to some abandoned military base and experimented on me? You call that protection?”

“You did not require my assistance at that time,” Darmon replied levelly.

Max’s dark eyebrows shot up abruptly. “I didn’t? They almost killed me! While you did what – watched from the bushes?”

“Yes.”

At that, Max’s mouth dropped open, at a loss for words. He sputtered a couple of syllables, then said, “You were going to let them kill me?!”

“No.”

“You just said yes!”

“No, I said yes I was watching from the bushes. But no, they wouldn’t have killed you.”

“They were holding a scalpel to my chest!” Max cried. “What do you think they were going to do? Give me a boob job?”

Darmon blinked, perhaps not familiar with the procedure or the sarcasm. “You were protected, you did not need me.”

“I beg to differ! If you would have shown yourself a little sooner, maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last three years curled up in a fetal position reliving that freaking nightmare.”

“We only expose ourselves when the situation is dire.”

“That wasn’t dire?” Max snorted and shook his head. “If you’re supposed to be my protector, I want to negotiate a trade.”

His world upside down, his mind running in twenty directions at once, Max sat back angrily in his seat, his arms folded defensively across his chest. Darmon turned to face forward, his expression unchanged. After a few moments, Max’s brow furrowed.

“Why don’t you think that situation dire?” he asked.

Darmon turned to address him again. “Because you had the others with you.”

“The others?”

“Your second and your sister.”

Max thought about Michael many miles away with a new wife and baby. But Isabel was relatively close, living no more than twenty miles from the marine museum. He glanced at Darmon, decided to keep Isabel’s proximity to himself.

“Your sister is powerless,” Darmon said, as though he could read Max’s mind.

Max jumped slightly, startled at the comment. “What do you mean?”

“She’s pregnant,” he explained. “She’s lost her powers until she delivers the child.”

Dread sank into Max’s stomach, making his limbs feel heavy and weak. Was this true? Was Isabel defenseless? And if so, did she realize it yet?

“At Eagle Rock,” Darmon continued, “you had your second in command and your sister, both of whom were capable of aiding you. If they had failed, I would have intervened.”

“But now…” Max’s voice drifted off.

“Now your second is not readily available and your sister is powerless to protect you.”

Max swallowed hard. “Protect me from what?” The anger was gone from his tone, replaced with a hint of curiosity and fear.

“Your majesty, your life is in danger. We must get you to safety.”

Max slumped in his seat. He couldn’t be hearing this right- it had to be a nightmare. Had to. Because this couldn’t be happening to him.

“Who would be a threat to me?” he asked in defeat.

“The Skin faction,” Darmon replied.

“They’re dead,” Max said, though there was uncertainty in his tone.

“Not all of them.”

“What do they want? Why won’t they leave me alone?”

“They want the granolith.”

Max gave a short, hysterical laugh. “Tell them to look on Antar – I think that’s where Tess last parked it.”

Darmon’s face was still solemn. “They know it’s been destroyed. Because they feel like they’ve been cheated, they want the northern territory.”

“Canada?” Max asked without sarcasm this time.

Darmon blinked again – Max was quickly catching on that this was his reaction to confusion. “No, sir, the northern territory of Antar.”

Max threw a hand into the air. “Let them have it. I don’t care.”

At that Darmon turned in his seat to exchange an emotionless glance with the ever-silent Aubrey.

“If they take the northern territory, they will take the entire kingdom, sir,” Darmon explained to Max.

“I don’t care!” Max reiterated. “I live here now! I was born here! I don’t care about what happens up there!”

Darmon paused a beat. “If they take the kingdom, they will try to take over here.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“They will come here to earth to claim your rule.”

“I have no rule! I am NOT a king! Do you understand me? I’m Max Evans, marine museum tour guide!”

“You must meet with our allies,” Darmon said, ignoring his majesty’s outburst.

Max shook his head vehemently. “No. I’m not meeting with anyone. I’m not going anywhere.”

“We have to leave tomorrow. Aubrey and I will stay with you until we are safely on our way.”

“To where!”

“The Chinese Republic.”

“China?! I can’t go to China! I don’t even have a passport – and the last time I checked you can’t get one of those overnight!”

Darmon shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about that – we have all of the documentation you need.”

In his mind, Max imagined someone forging documents to get him a passport, all the while keeping him blissfully unaware of what they were doing. Or perhaps they fabricated one out of thin air. It chilled him to the bone to think about how many people like Agent Darmon were out there engineering things without his knowledge.

“I’m not going to China,” Max finally said.

“You must.”

“I can’t just pick up and leave. I have a wife to support. She’s going to school – she can’t work too.”

“She will be taken care of.”

Max shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. Look, I don’t care about what happens up there. They can all stay there and rot. Let them take the northern province or whatever the hell you call it. I’m more human than alien. I live here, not there. I have a wife, we want to have a family together.”

Darmon’s next words sent a shiver down his spine. “There is an assassination plot involving you, your majesty. Unless you come with us and let us protect you, it will be carried out soon.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Nine

“Assass-” the word caught in Max’s throat, refusing to make it all of the way to his lips. Assassination was a term used in conjunction with great men, martyred for their people. Men like the Kennedys and Anwar Sadat – not insignificant Max Evans from Roswell, NM.

“We have shelter nearby,” Darmon assured him. “We will be safe there for the night, until we leave for China.”

“I’m not going to China,” Max replied automatically, his tone not as vehement as it should have been – his mind was still back on murder plots. Spooked, he looked out of the car, realized that he’d stupidly left the canvas top down. JFK had been assassinated in a convertible…

“Who wants to kill me?” he asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

“The Skins, their allies.”

Max turned round eyes to his new friend. “Allies? They have allies?”

Darmon shrugged. “Of course. But you have allies as well.”

“I have no one,” Max said, shaking his head in denial. “I have Michael and Isabel – that’s it.”

“You will find, sir, that that isn’t the case.”

Max’s brow furrowed with worry. This was all happening too quickly. There was too much talk of assassinations and shelters and allies and China. He felt like he’d been plunged head first into a vat of worms, the crawly sensation slithering across his body. Unable to take it any longer, he pushed himself from the car and started walking – away from the Chevelle, away from the freeway, into the darkness.

After a few minutes, he fell to his butt in the grass, his hands going to his head. Why was this happening? Why now? Why when everything seemed so normal for a change? What had he done to deserve this? Around him, the crickets chirped, singing a song of the night, unaware of his inner turmoil.

“Sir.”

Max jerked his head up to find the massive Agent Darmon standing before him. Max hadn’t heard him approach, but after what he’d witnessed in the alley, that fact didn’t surprise him.

“We should get you to safety,” Darmon urged.

“Are you one of them?” Max asked, knowing that if his question was affirmed, then he was doomed.

“One of whom, sir?” Darmon asked, his booming voice resonating in the night.

“The assassins. Are you going to take me to some nearby shelter in order to kill me?”

The alien blinked, then squatted so that he was on Max’s level. Involuntarily, Max recoiled slightly, his protector invading his personal space. Darmon held out his hand.

“Take my hand,” he commanded.

Max looked at it, then back into the alien’s eyes, showing no reaction.

“I will not hurt you,” Darmon insisted. “Please take my hand.”

Tentative, Max reached out and clasped Darmon’s hand in his. Within moments, he was flooded with images of himself – sleeping blissfully unaware in his old bedroom at his parents’ house; traipsing foolishly through the woods with Michael and Isabel, having escaped a camping excursion in search of mysterious lights from the sky; getting lost in the affections of Liz Parker in the backseat of an old, uncomfortable Army Jeep that had since taken a fiery plunge off a cliff.

Oddly, though, Max could feel no emotions coming from his visitor. Usually, when he traded memories with others, he could feel what they felt at the time. From Darmon, he felt nothing. And he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

The images suddenly vanished and Max’s vision cleared; Darmon was still squatted before him.

“You’ve left yourself vulnerable many times,” he explained levelly, at which Max’s ears burned with shame. “I could have killed you before now.”

“But what if there was some reason to wait?” Max baited.

Darmon shrugged. “What reason could there be? If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“Maybe you’re waiting for the right moment, to make a statement.”

“I have no reason to make a statement. I care not about political gain. I am only here to protect you.”

Max looked anything but convinced.

Until the agent held out his hand, palm forward, and stopped a few feet from Max’s chest. Almost immediately, Max’s heart jerked, causing him to gasp involuntarily and try to recoil. As soon as the sensation started, it stopped, leaving Max frightened and shaking where he sat.

“I don’t even need to touch you. I could have killed you many times by now,” Darmon said patiently, then pushed himself to his feet. Then he held out his hand, which Max eyed warily. “I only wish to help you to your feet.”

Max swallowed hard, reached out cautiously; the huge alien pulled him to his feet without so much as a strain of muscle.

“You must trust me,” Darmon implored. “We will go to the shelter. Tomorrow we will go to China.”

With that, Darmon started walking back toward the freeway. After a few moments, Max trailed after him, his mind confused, his body trembling. This creature could have killed him countless times over the last fifteen years, and yet he hadn’t. He’d waited in the shadows, waiting for a viable threat – apparently the FBI didn’t qualify as one – waiting to serve his king.

So what terrible thing was awaiting Max that would flush this powerful being out of hiding? What was worth blowing his cover?

Assassination.

The word rang in Max’s head, a violent, brutal word packed with finality. In his head, he saw a bloody limousine, black and white autopsy photos, a new widow dressed in a pink wool suit and pillbox hat.

Liz.

“Wait,” Max called, his voice sounding foreign to him.

Darmon stopped and turned on his heel, no sense of curiosity in his eyes – he’d simply stopped on command.

“Before we go to this shelter,” Max said. “I need to go home.”

Darmon shook his head. “I must advise against that, your majesty. For your own safety.”

“Stop calling me that,” Max sighed, more than a little aggravated. “I want to go home first. I can’t leave without speaking to my wife.”

With a stab of shame, he remembered standing in an airplane hangar while Kal Langley tried to get the spaceship to fly. His phone had rung that night. It had been Liz. And Max had refused to pick it up. In one of the most embarrassingly selfish acts of his life, he’d almost disappeared without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t do it again.

Agent Aubrey appeared beside her partner, her face equally as passive. Of course, she said nothing.

“We can’t do that,” Darmon replied.

“We have to,” Max said, his voice strained. “I can’t leave without telling Liz where I’m going.”

“It’s best she doesn’t know.”

Max’s eyebrows shot straight upward. “What? I’m not flying halfway around the world without telling her –”

“For her own safety,” Darmon added.

Max withdrew. He got it – if Liz knew where he was, then someone could torture it out of her. Then again, someone could torture her thinking she knew when she really didn’t. Liz was in danger.

“We can’t just leave her here,” Max told his new acquaintances. “I’ll go with you to China, but Liz comes with us. So that we can watch out for her.”

“I promised you that she will be taken care of,” Darmon assured him. “That includes keeping her safe. For the time being, your enemies do not care about her. Or your heir. They will both be protected.”

Max fell still, a deer in the headlights. “I have no heir.”

Darmon and Aubrey exchanged an expressionless glance.

“You have a son,” Darmon clarified. “An heir to the throne of Antar.”

Max shook his head violently. No, this definitely wasn’t happening! He’d given up his son to protect him from this very scenario! This wasn’t happening!

“I have no one,” he said bitterly.

Darmon and Aubrey exchanged another glance.

“Surely you know you fathered a son?” Darmon tried a different approach.

Max fell mute, pleading the fifth.

“Regardless, your majesty, your son will also be protected.”

“Stop calling me that!” Max finally exploded. “I am not anyone’s majesty! I’m just Max Evans! I’ve agreed to your little China party, now do as I wish and let me see Liz before we go!”

Both aliens stood steadfast in their places, unmoved by his emotional display. Max’s chest heaved with rage, his eyes blazing as he looked from one to the other.

“Why are you just standing there?” he demanded. “If I’m your majesty, don’t you have to do what I command?”

Darmon shook his head. “Not if what you command is not in your best interest.”

Max stopped short. “What?” he cried.

“You cannot command us to do anything that would endanger you. Returning to your residence would be a definite danger to you.”

Max blinked several times, his anger abating only to be replaced by confusion. “Why did Kal Langley have to do everything I told him to?” he asked.

“I told you earlier, he wasn’t your protector. He was a lesser servant of Antar, as was the person who originally identified himself as your protector. Their order must take orders. Mine doesn’t have to.”

Bewilderment washed over Max’s face, his body slumping with defeat. There was no way out of this. He was stuck. He was going to China, with assassins on his heels, with Liz sitting home and worrying about his whereabouts.

“Can I call her?” he asked hopelessly.

“Best not to,” Darmon said. “Phone calls can be traced, even cell phones.”

“And I can’t go to her?”

Darmon shook his head.

Max pulled himself up, straightening his shoulders. “Then bring her to me.”

Aubrey and Darmon looked at one another, then Aubrey turned as if to retreat.

“Wait,” Max called, at which Aubrey stopped and turned toward him. Using a twisting action, he pulled his wedding band from his finger and handed it to her. “She’s not going to believe you. Show her this. Tell her I’m okay. Tell her that I’m waiting for her.”

tbc

[Midwest Max]

Part Ten

“I've just been thinking a lot lately, and...have you ever wanted to see Sweden?”

“Sweden?”

“I mean or anywhere. Peru, Nigeria, New Zealand...”

“Sure. But the closest I'm gonna get right now is the granilith chamber. Why?”

“Watching Alex this week, I just realized that it's our right to see the world, to live our dreams.”

That conversation played in Max’s mind over and over in a loop. It had been Liz’s dream, not his, to see the world. And now he was bound for China and she was about to be blind-sided with that fact.

Sanctuary turned out to be a remote summer cottage on the coast of Maine. Perched atop a cliff, it was nearly impossible for anyone to approach without being seen. The bungalow was decorated quaintly and with a pang Max thought that it would have been a place for a nice romantic getaway, not a place in which he could hope to protect his life.

Aubrey had been gone for over two hours and Max feared that something bad had happened, not just that Liz hadn’t believed her. He was afraid that Liz had somehow been injured, or that she’d run into the night to try to evade this new threat to their lives. If only he could call her…

Seated near the window, Agent Darmon turned toward Max, who was slumped against the wall beside the bed, his body weary, his soul crying. The alien looked out of the window again, then rose and went to sit before Max. When he took his seat, he sat Indian-style which for some reason amused Max. Maybe it was because Darmon was such a large creature and the posture was that of a kindergartener playing duck-duck-goose. Or maybe Max’s sanity had finally snapped.

“Sir,” Darmon said cautiously. He’d settled on “sir” instead of “your majesty”, which seemed to upset his king.

Max drew in a breath and sighed. “What is it?”

“I am under the impression that you do not trust me.”

Max lifted one dark eyebrow. “Do you blame me? I mean, if the roles were reversed, would you trust me?”

Darmon shrugged. “I have no reason to either trust or distrust you, sir. You and I have no history.”

Max blinked. Could his new protector be that naïve? “Just because I’ve never screwed you over, you’re willing to trust me?”

Darmon shook his head. “No. I am only saying that I have nothing on which to base trust or distrust.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “So do you trust me or not?”

“Neither.”

Max sighed and let his head fall backward to the wall, his eyes drifting toward the dark window. He was too tired for this game of alien charades.

“I will establish that at a later time,” Darmon explained patiently. “But you do not have that luxury.”

At what sounded like a thinly-veiled threat, Max lifted his head, attentive once again.

“Even though I understand it is difficult for you,” Darmon continued, “you have to know what my purpose is, that I am only here to protect you.”

Max raised his hands, palms-up. “How am I just supposed to do that? Blindly? You expect blind faith from me?”

Darmon shifted his considerable weight. “Perhaps if I explain my race to you?”

Max shrugged, feeling that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

“We do not come from your planet.”

A twinge of fear sparked under Max’s breastbone. From another planet. Part Skin, then?

“We do not come from any of the five planets in your solar system. We come from farther away than that.”

Now Max’s interest was piqued. “How did you get to Antar then?”

“My ancestors were slaves,” Darmon explained without self-pity, but Max still felt a jab of guilt. “We do not require food or sleep.”

“No shit?”

Darmon blinked, unfamiliar with that expression. Apparently he chose to ignore it. “We can work tirelessly, endlessly. We make good slave labor.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You have no need to apologize. You have done nothing to us. We were slaves long ago. Over time we evolved. We gained powers that your people do not possess.”

“Like what?”

“We can take other forms.”

“You can shapeshift?”

Darmon nodded. “Yes. We can do many things. We have excellent sensory abilities. In time, our unique abilities were recognized by the royal court and we came to be in the capacity we are in now. All of my kind perform this function.”

Max studied him closely. “How many of you are there?”

“A limited number,” Darmon replied, obviously avoiding the question. “But we have many lesser soldiers at our disposal. They will guard your family while you are gone.”

Max swallowed, his mind always on Liz, on where she was, if she was frightened…

“It is my duty to give my existence for you, your majesty,” Darmon said, forgetting he wasn’t to call his king that anymore.

“What?” Max asked, not sure he heard correctly.

“I will defend you until death,” Darmon reiterated, though his tone lacked any sense of bravado. “I hope that will instill in you some trust.”

Until death. This being whom he had just met a few hours before was vowing to die to protect him. What was more important, Max saw nothing but sincerity in the man’s eyes. In a small act of truce, he nodded, accepting that pledge.

Darmon didn’t really react, though Max thought perhaps he seemed a bit relieved.

A few minutes later, lights swept in a wide arc through the window of the cabin and Max’s heart lurched in his chest – he knew the sound of Liz’s car. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, but Darmon blocked his way, already offering protection.

“It’s Liz,” Max said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Darmon held up a hand for him to be silent, hesitated, tilted his head as if listening for something, then finally stepped out of Max’s way. For security’s sake, they’d left the lights turned off in the cottage and Max nearly tripped over some unseen obstacle as he raced for the door. He quickly righted himself, however, and soon he was pounding across the wooden porch and down the steps.

Aubrey was driving Liz’s car, which surprised him, but he didn’t have a chance to ponder the curiosity of that as he spied his wife climbing from the passenger seat.

“Liz!” he cried, racing across the grass that separated them.

Liz seemed weak, her knees wobbly as she looked around for the source of his voice. Then she spied him and she too started to run. Within moments, she was in his arms, clutching at his back desperately. Max could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off her as her heart raced madly against his chest. She was scared half to death.

“Shh,” he said against her ear, holding her tightly. “It’s okay. Shh, Liz. I’m here.”

“What is this, Max?” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “What’s going on?”

Max closed his eyes, breathed in her perfume and the scent of her hair, simply relieved to have a moment of reprieve from the madness. He squeezed her tighter until she finally wriggled away from him, though she didn’t travel far.

“Who are they?” she whispered hotly, jerked her chin over her shoulder. “Who is that woman? Why did she have your ring? Max, why are you doing this?”

Max’s eyes drifted over Liz’s shoulder, to Aubrey and Darmon, who had both turned their backs on the couple. Offering privacy? Or simply checking for threats? Regardless, Max was thankful that they weren’t looking, as he took Liz’s face between his hands and kissed her.

She tasted sweet, like his beautiful wife. His Liz. His love. And while he enjoyed the feel of her body against his, he opened the connection and showed her what had happened earlier that evening. There was too much to put into words – showing her seemed the simplest way to explain.

Then she was backing away from him, her mouth a perfect O, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Max’s lips tingled with the feel of her, even though he was already mourning her departure.

“Max, no,” she breathed, shaking her head slowly. He could see a hint of wetness in her eyes, though she’d yet to give in to it.

Max’s eyes shifted back to the protectors, then he reached for Liz’s arm. “Let’s take a walk,” he offered gently.

She stumbled along beside him, her arm limp beneath his hand, like the life had been sucked out of her. He remained silent until they’d rounded the cottage; the sound of the ocean crashing on the rocks below should drowned out their words, though he had a suspicion his new friends might be able to hear them anyway. Pulling to a stop, Max paused long enough to put his arms around her again; she was trembling and seemed no less frightened than when she’d gotten out of the car.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he told her quietly.

“Then don’t go with them,” Liz implored, pulling back from him. “Don’t get on a plane with them. Max, I don’t trust them!”

Looking down, he took her hands in his, caressed their soft backs with his thumbs. He’d always loved her hands, so small and delicate, as soft as velvet; he concentrated on remembering every detail, as though he was expecting to never be able to touch them again.

“Stay with me, Max,” Liz begged. “You can’t just get on a plane and go to China!”

He met her eyes, his full of regret.

“Oh my God,” she gasped in disbelief. “You’re really going, aren’t you?” Sickened, she took a couple of steps away from him, her hand going to her belly as if to fight off a bought of nausea.

“I can’t explain it,” he said softly, his heart breaking at the expression on her face. “I feel like I need to. I feel like this is important.”

In the bright moonlight, he saw a silent tear slide down her smooth cheek. “This is where it starts,” she whispered more to herself than to him.

“What?” he asked carefully. “What did you say?”

“And where it ends…” Her voice drifted off and she fell to the grass, her head buried in her hands. This time, her tears weren’t so silent as violent sobs wracked her body.

Max knelt before her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “Liz,” he said softly. “Liz, look at me.”

She lifted her head, her face so contorted with grief that Max was momentarily thrown.

“This is when I lose you,” she choked out between her tears.

He attempted a reassuring smile. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”

Liz shook her head vehemently, her dark locks swaying in the moonlight. “No, you’re not going to be. This is just the tip of the iceberg, Max. And I always knew that one day you’d leave me. I knew it and I still let myself fall in love with you anyway.”

There was something tightening in Max’s chest, a fist that had grabbed his heart and lungs and was twisting them into a useless ball, making it hard for him to breathe. He had to struggle against that sensation and the sudden stinging in his eyes in order to soothe her.

“I’m not leaving you,” he managed. “I couldn’t ever leave you, Liz. I love you too much. I’d die without you, Liz. I couldn’t draw another breath.”

With the heels of her hands, she wiped away the tears from her cheeks. “You really don’t see it, do you?” she asked, no accusation in her tone. “Once you get in, you’re not going to get out. This is what I’ve always feared, Max, that someday your alien side would take you away from me. That someday it would be more important than what we have.”

Reaching out, Max took her face between his hands again, his eyes serious as they met hers steadily. “Listen to me. Nothing is ever going to be more important than you are to me. Nothing.”

But that hadn’t always been true, had it? How many times in high school had he “broken up” with her so that he could pursue his alien destiny? How many times had he cast her aside whenever there was the slightest tidbit of information that may have led him to his son? As much as he might have wanted to believe it, Max knew in his heart that Liz had never really come first. In fact the only times he’d put her first was when he’d exposed his alien side in order to heal her, and during the past two years when the alien madness had slowed down. As soon as the alien crisis started again, he knew that he’d have to follow the path that had been laid out before him long before he was ever born.

And she knew it, too. He could see it in her dark eyes, in the hint of doubt he saw there.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he offered quietly.

Liz’s bottom lip quivered as she heard the affirmation that he was definitely going away. Unable to stop herself, she dropped her head to her hands again, her shoulders shaking with her silent tears.

Watching her grieve, a flash of anger raced through Max’s body, that old resentment that his destiny had been written for him, without his consult, regardless of what he’d wanted out of life. Bridging the gap between them, he crushed her body to his and simply held her while she cried. He’d never felt closer or more separated from her in his life. He felt like he was holding someone else’s wife, a widow who’d just received the news that her husband had perished, even though he was very much alive.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered against her ear. “I promise you, Liz. If it kills me, I’ll come back here.”

She nodded against his shoulder, her breath coming in short hiccups as her tears abated. He released her, but kept her close as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I need you to do a couple of things,” he said, to which she nodded in agreement. “Isabel has lost her powers because of the pregnancy. You need to tell her that, you need to make sure she understands.”

Liz looked surprised at that, but nodded her understanding.

“Contact Michael. Let him know what has happened.”

“Okay.”

“And I want…” His words cut off, truly unable to believe the words he was about to form. “I want you to stay near Kyle.” So he can spend his days looking at your underwear…or worse.

“Why?” she said, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

Max swallowed back his pride. “Because he can protect you. He can blast.”

“So can I –”

“Please, Liz. There’s safety in numbers. Please just go to him.”

She nodded silently.

Max’s strong exterior finally melted, a single wet tear slipping down his cheek. “Stay with me tonight,” he asked. “I’m scared, Liz. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. Please…stay with me.”

In reply, she pressed her lips to his and with aching souls, they fell to the grass together, feebly attempting to lose themselves in one another, to block out the madness and uncertainty around them.

tbc

**Used dialogue from We Are Family