Wacky Amy.........I love that.
Sure hope Max can figure out what is wrong with Liz.
Thanks
Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) COMPLETE 5/5/17 + A/N 5/5/19
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keepsmiling7
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 2649
- Joined: Thu Jun 28, 2007 9:34 pm
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max and liz believer
- Obsessed Roswellian
- Posts: 821
- Joined: Sat Sep 28, 2002 10:45 am
- Location: Sweden
- Contact:
FIFTEEN
dreamon - Hmm… Interesting theory. Thank you for the feedback!
saori_1902 - Thank you
Eve (begonia9508)
I'm pretty sure they can go on and on lying to her, but Liz will probably try her best to unveil those lies
Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - Thank you for the feedback!
Roswelllostcause - Thank you for the feedback!
AlysLuv
Haha - laughed right out as I read this
Thank you for the feedback!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Thank you for the feedback!
From FOURTEEN:
I braced myself against the plastered white wall and took a deep breath. But even when I closed my eyes tightly shut, my surroundings kept on spinning. I was acutely aware of the burning pain over my back and up my neck, of the pounding in my left arm and the small blisters that had been on my face when I had woken up this morning.
I had snuck out of the house before Maria or Amy had woken. I didn’t want them to see me like this. Didn’t want them to ask any questions that I couldn’t answer.
Which is how I found myself standing outside of the Evans’ residence at seven in the morning.
It took a monumental effort to raise my arm and press the door bell. I had the small energy to pray that it wouldn’t be Mr. Evans answering the door.
The door flung open and I was struck by how much like himself he looked. As though he had never been burnt at all.
His eyes widened in horrified worry as he saw me. “Liz?”
I struggled to put a light smile on my lips. “I think you did something wrong when you fixed me.”
FIFTEEN
His mouth fell open as he took in my condition, and he breathed a “Fuck” before grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.
I stumbled, my legs not operating the way they used to.
“Let’s go to my room,” Max said hurriedly, dragging me along.
At first I had thought that it was the grief that was draining me. I’ve heard of people sleeping ridiculous amounts of hours in the midst of depression and sorrow. I’d also heard of losing your appetite and your ability to function.
But when the wounds from the fire started to reappear across my body, I suspected something different was going on.
“Liz?” he asked softly as I stumbled again.
He was looking at me intensely and I tried to meet his gaze through the black spots dancing before my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I answered, the lie so transparent that I could as well be wearing a large neon sign with the words ‘I’m actually broken’ above my head.
His hand tightened around my upper arm and he searched my face. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I answered, trying to brush his worry away. Of course I could walk. I’d made it this far, hadn’t I?
I had, in fact, managed to drive the car to his house.
He didn’t need to know that I had reversed into a bin and brushed along a hedge on the way, while bordering on a blackout.
He considered my sparsely worded answer for about four seconds, before tugging sharply on my elbow, making my body collide with his.
As my legs folded underneath me in response to the abrupt movement, his arms folded around my waist and my legs turned, if possible, even less functional as they buckled as his hard body aligned with my weakened one. He pressed me up against his chest, so close that I could feel his heartbeat against my breast.
It was beating hard. Fast.
I inhaled a shaky breath as he said quietly, “Come here.”
I looked up into those amber eyes of his and had time to contemplate his two-worded command for one second before he bent and moved his left arm into the hooks of my knees. Before I really knew how it had happened, Max Evans was carrying me.
Let’s linger on that for a moment, shall we?
Max Evans, playboy extraordinaire and mystification personified, was carrying me.
I was too weak to react properly. My body wanted to feel elation at the feeling of him so close to me, at the sensation of my body being pressed into his, while my brain wanted to distance itself from his proximity and outright shiver at the situation.
To best describe it; I was confused. Due to my deteriorating condition since the fire, coupled with trying to get over my mother’s death, I didn’t have the energy to mull too much over whether Max was one of the good guys. I hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to decide if I should run and hide from him, call in the law enforcement, or trust him.
Obviously, on some level I did trust him. I wouldn’t be at his house right now, in my heightened state of vulnerability, if I didn’t.
Max brought me up the stairs to the second floor and my lips accidentally brushed against his throat.
He pushed one of the doors at the beginning of the landing open with his foot and I closed my eyes as his scent enveloped me.
I had almost slipped away into the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness as he gently placed me on his large and unmade bed. Apparently my unscheduled visit was so early in the morning that the cleaning staff hadn’t made his bed yet.
Naturally, I assumed that Max Evans had people making his bed for him.
The intimacy of the wrinkled bed sheets surrounding me and the smell of him from the pillow pressed against the back of my head coupled with the morning attire of sweatpants and a white T-shirt he was wearing, tempted me to sleep. To drift away.
“Stay with me,” he mumbled and my eyes snapped open.
He was seated next to me, his right hip against my left, looking at me as if I was about to vanish into thin air any second.
I felt myself falling into those eyes of sadness and forced myself to break away from his hold, letting my curiosity master the fatigue as I glanced around the room. A strong sense of déjà vu hit me with full blast as I took in his room.
Had I been here before?
No. I frowned. No, the Halloween party was the first time I was at Max’s house and I was only downstairs for that one.
“Is this your room?” I asked, mostly in an attempt to smother the loaded silence (and to help me stay conscious). Of course it was his room.
“Tell me what happened,” Max interrupted, an impatient sharpness to his voice. “Start from the beginning.”
I blinked. “Well… You did something to me, but you are probably more equipped at accounting for whatever hell that was than me.” My words were slurred. So tired. I was so tired.
He frowned, but apparently let it slide. “After. When you got to Maria’s.”
“My mom’s dead,” I stated, with more grief than I had intended. I really didn’t have the energy to answer any of his questions.
His eyes softened and he silently brought his hand up to the side of my face, gently touching a strand of my hair between his fingers before cradling my cheek against his palm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and he looked so sad that I had to look away, the barely suppressed grief over my mother’s absence suffocating me. I tried to inhale, but my lungs felt like they would explode. My body wanted to sob and cry hysterically.
His thumb pressed into the softness of my cheek and he gently commanded me, “Breathe.”
“I can’t,” I pressed out, controlling my emotions by squeezing my fists tightly.
His hand moved from my cheek to the top of my chest, his fingertips touching my exposed collarbone above the hem of my shirt and his palm came to rest on the upper part of my breast. The touch wasn’t really making it easier for me to breathe. As he leaned in, his lips two inches from mine, I thought my chest was going to explode for real.
Closer now, he repeated, “Breathe.”
And the pressure was instantly released from my chest, my grief downgraded from frantic to semi-manageable.
I looked up at the golden flecks in his brown eyes and asked, fearfully, “What did you do?”
He took a deep breath and leaned back, removing his scorching touch from my chest. Giving me space. The air in the room felt ice-cold in the absence of his touch.
“Your mom couldn’t be saved,” he said slowly, avoiding my eyes.
I managed to raise up on my elbows, trying to get closer to him. I couldn’t hide the anger and hurt in my voice as I asked, “What do you mean?”
“When I got to you…” he swallowed and I could see his Adam’s apple bop. “She was already dead.”
“You saw her?” I asked, my voice breaking with restrained tears.
He nodded, but didn’t offer any more explanation than that.
“Did you try?” I started sobbing. “Did you try and save her?”
We both knew what I meant. Had Max even attempted to save my mom the way he had saved me, when he erased my injuries?
“Liz,” he whispered regretfully.
I didn’t need him to tell me. The answer was clearly written across his face. But he told me anyway, “She was already dead.”
“Are you sure? What if it wasn’t too late?” my voice wrenched out of my chest as the grief and the need to blame someone for what had happened escalated. “What if she was still alive and you,” I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, balling it up in my hands in frustrated despair, “you just left her there to die.”
He looked like I had hit him. He appeared deeply hurt by my poorly veiled accusation.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said between tight lips. “I would never do that.”
“She could have been alive,” I whispered as the truth hit me. Max’s ability (whatever hell it was) would have been magical if he had just saved my mom.
My head was swimming, unconsciousness knocking at the entrance to my mind, demanding entry. The crying was quickly draining me, laboring my breathing, making my heartbeat fainter.
He looked at me with trepidation and grabbed my upper arms just as my eyes closed.
“Calm down, Liz,” he said, almost sternly.
“You should have just let me die,” I mumbled, the words trembling.
“No,” he said and there was a finality to his objection that took the edge off the anticipated panic attack.
My body was intently wound up while simultaneously fading in fatigue. I didn’t know if I should cry or throw up. My heart felt like it was breaking into millions of pieces. My skin was heating up; I imagined my skin cracking from the heat.
I slowly licked my parched lips; that simple act hurt.
“Where does it hurt?” his voice asked.
My eyelids were too heavy; impossible to lift.
“Everywhere,” I mumbled.
“Does ‘everywhere’ mean the places you were burnt?” he continued.
I managed an unimpressive nod. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as the desert. “My back. My arm. My face. My leg.”
The heat intensified with my emotions and a scream was building inside of me. There was just so much pain one could stand, as my physical pain was now coupled with the emotional. I let go of Max’s shirt, which apparently I was still holding onto, and took a hold of the bottom hem of my own shirt, pulling it upwards with a sharp tug.
“Too warm,” I gasped. “I’m too warm.”
His hands were cool on mine as he tried to stop my movements. The air hit my skin and I felt a momentary relief before the pain intensified on the left side of my body.
“Jesus,” Max mumbled and I was afraid to open my eyes to see what had put that terror in his voice. What was he seeing?
His hands left the back of mine and moved to splay out over my exposed stomach. My whole body sighed in relief. There was something about his touch…
“Open your eyes,” he requested quietly, his voice sounding distant, as if his attention was divided. “I need you to open your eyes. Just like before.”
So I did. With the last ounce of energy in my body, I pried them open, wondering how long I would be able to keep them open.
I wished that I hadn’t. His eyes were flicking to my stomach and, against my better judgment, I followed his gaze to my exposed abdomen and saw my skin grow blisters at a frightening speed, fluid stretch the interior of the lesions, before the pressure got too high and the blisters basically ruptured.
My skin was exploding.
Max looked away from my tarnished stomach and forced my eyes to connect with his. Even though my skin was rupturing, he didn’t remove his hands, instead fluttering them across the uneven skin, chilling my skin in their trail.
In the midst of everything falling apart, I was, on a purely vulnerable and adolescent level, relieved that he hadn’t left me. That he hadn’t given up on me just because I was probably the grossest thing he’d ever seen.
“Don’t blink,” he commanded and our gazes interlocked.
I couldn’t blink. Couldn’t look away.
”Max.”
“Sgt. Carter,” I acknowledged and nodded my head respectfully. I avoided to meet his eyes. He didn’t approve of that.
“Sit down, son,” Sean Carter’s father said and pointed to one of the antique massive oak chairs surrounding the large solid oak table.
“Thank you, sir.” I tried to hide my nervousness as I pulled out the chair and sank down. Being summoned for a meeting with the sergeant was rarely a good thing.
Sgt. Carter didn’t sit down, looming over me with his presence. He sucked all the air out of a room. Not many things scared me, but Sean’s father operated on an extreme level of intimidation.
“My son had some interesting information about a party. A party at your house this weekend.”
I tried to not display any feelings on my face, but couldn’t stop my jaw from clenching.
“Yes, sir. It was a Halloween party. We have it every year.”
“Hmm,” Sgt. Carter said in fake contemplation, rubbing his chin as he walked up to the window and gazed out. With his back to me, he asked, “Anything you want to tell me about the party? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“No, sir,” I denied and focused on calming my breath. He could smell fear.
There was a pause. The large clock on the wall ticked. And tocked.
“Don’t lie to me, son.”
His voice was low and menacing, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up.
I swallowed. Sweat was breaking out on my forehead. Agitation was dampening my palms. I rubbed them discreetly against my jeans. “Well. Come to think of it. Isabel hurt herself.”
He still had his back to me. “Badly?”
“She was bleeding quite profusely, sir.”
“And did you do something about it?”
“I healed her, sir.”
“Did anyone see you?”
A chill raced through me and caught my heart in a vice-like grip. He knew.
“I took care of it,” I said quietly, keeping the tempting trembles out of my voice.
The second the last syllable left my lips, I was propelled out of the chair (it clattered to the floor behind me with a loud thud) and my back violently struck the wall. I heard something crack, pain vibrating from my ribcage, and gravity brutally ripped me to the floor.
“You have to be more careful, son,” Sgt. Carter said darkly, his voice getting closer as I laid on the floor in pain, trying to pull myself and my dignity upwards.
His hand whipped across my face and pain exploded through my nose and across my cheek. I tasted blood in my mouth before another hit was aimed at my abdomen.
I gasped, “No…”
“Shh,” he hushed, holding onto my gaze.
I wondered if he could see what I saw when his memories flashed through my mind. If he revisited the traumatizing feelings he had experienced when being physically abused by Sean Carter’s dad.
At the same time as I could feel a whisper of what Max had gone through while being beat up, I could feel energy return to my body. And I was pretty sure Max was the battery that was feeding me that power.
My hand instinctually and tightly wrapped around his wrist and my voice was dry as I cracked a whisper of, “Stop.”
If he was the battery that was charging me, he would be drained.
Instead of him pulling back at my quiet plea, my mind was assaulted by another vision.
”So. Are you gonna ask Liz Parker to the party?”
I pulled the sweater over my head, which messed up my hair. “Maybe.”
“She won’t say ‘yes’, you know.”
I raised a disinterested eyebrow, “And how do you know?”
My sister leaned against the doorway to my room, plucking with the silver necklace around her neck, before answering casually, “Because she’s afraid of you, of course.”
A grin spread across my lips and I shook my head as I moved to find my cell phone. “I know.”
It was not like I enjoyed that Liz Parker was afraid of me. I just found it ironic that the only girl I’ve ever been interested in, avoided me at all costs.
My eyes widened as Max’s honest thoughts echoed through my head.
The only girl I’ve ever been interested in…
I could almost feel life being breathed into my pale cheeks, energy brightening my eyes, vitality strengthening my body and my very essence awakening my muddled brain.
My breath hitched as the heightened awareness that came with renewed health registered the movements of his hands over my body. The pads of his fingers brushed along the bottom of my ribcage, over my ribs, grazing the base of my bra and pushed between my back and the mattress.
He was tracing my injuries like a painter would make pastels flow across the canvas.
I was heating up again, but for a completely different reason.
No boy had ever touched me like this.
The feeling was acutely intimate and personal. Max’s eyes looking into mine the whole time made the experience even more intense.
He was leaning over me, his waist brushing against my pelvis, and I could feel the shudder that rocked his body vibrate from his bones to mine. Out of my peripheral vision I could dimly trace the sweat droplets along his hairline, the wrinkle of strain marking his forehead and the increasing exertion in his eyes.
I felt another vision (or whatever I should call it) come on as he removed his hands from my back and traced them up my arms, mending the fracture that was starting to reappear, breaking the bones in my left arm. The previous fracture from the burning roof beam that had fallen on me.
But instead of letting his memories flow into my mind in another walk down Max’s Memory Lane, I used my healed arms to push at him and forced my eyes to blink and release myself from his grip.
He inhaled sharply, as if released from a spell, and leaned on me, breathing heavily.
I was at a loss at what to do. Was he about to pass out again? Should I help him move?
Should I just stay there and revel in the feel of his weight on top of me?
“Why did you do that?” he whispered, his voice listless as his strained breaths caressed my exposed shoulder, where my shirt had fallen down.
I forcefully pushed the sensation out of my mind.
Instead I said, “You were doing too much,” my voice stronger than his now. “You passed out last time, you know.”
“I know,” he mumbled and raised his head to look at me. “I’m not done.”
“I don’t care,” I answered, goosebumps forming as I flicked my eyes to his lips. So close to mine. “You need a break.”
“Liz…” he said disapprovingly, weakened.
“Max,” I countered.
He clenched his jaw and pulled himself off me. A trembling breath left me along with the sudden loss of his weight.
Sitting up next to me, back into his ‘starting position’, he reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”
TBC...
saori_1902 - Thank you
Eve (begonia9508)
Just to clarify: Liz felt the burns while sitting at Maria's kitchen counter, as if she had just burnt herself. In a way they came out of nowhere. She felt relief once she put her hands in water (just like you would when having burnt your hand on a hot stove, etc.)I can't believe that the burns were there and she didn't even felt it, until she puts her hands in water!
I'm pretty sure they can go on and on lying to her, but Liz will probably try her best to unveil those lies
Thank you for the feedback!L-J-L 76 - Thank you for the feedback!
Roswelllostcause - Thank you for the feedback!
AlysLuv
Holy smokes! No pun intended.
Haha - laughed right out as I read this
Seems to be the question of the day…What's so special about her anyways?
Thank you for the feedback!Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Thank you for the feedback!
From FOURTEEN:
I braced myself against the plastered white wall and took a deep breath. But even when I closed my eyes tightly shut, my surroundings kept on spinning. I was acutely aware of the burning pain over my back and up my neck, of the pounding in my left arm and the small blisters that had been on my face when I had woken up this morning.
I had snuck out of the house before Maria or Amy had woken. I didn’t want them to see me like this. Didn’t want them to ask any questions that I couldn’t answer.
Which is how I found myself standing outside of the Evans’ residence at seven in the morning.
It took a monumental effort to raise my arm and press the door bell. I had the small energy to pray that it wouldn’t be Mr. Evans answering the door.
The door flung open and I was struck by how much like himself he looked. As though he had never been burnt at all.
His eyes widened in horrified worry as he saw me. “Liz?”
I struggled to put a light smile on my lips. “I think you did something wrong when you fixed me.”
____________________________________
His mouth fell open as he took in my condition, and he breathed a “Fuck” before grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.
I stumbled, my legs not operating the way they used to.
“Let’s go to my room,” Max said hurriedly, dragging me along.
At first I had thought that it was the grief that was draining me. I’ve heard of people sleeping ridiculous amounts of hours in the midst of depression and sorrow. I’d also heard of losing your appetite and your ability to function.
But when the wounds from the fire started to reappear across my body, I suspected something different was going on.
“Liz?” he asked softly as I stumbled again.
He was looking at me intensely and I tried to meet his gaze through the black spots dancing before my eyes.
“I’m fine,” I answered, the lie so transparent that I could as well be wearing a large neon sign with the words ‘I’m actually broken’ above my head.
His hand tightened around my upper arm and he searched my face. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I answered, trying to brush his worry away. Of course I could walk. I’d made it this far, hadn’t I?
I had, in fact, managed to drive the car to his house.
He didn’t need to know that I had reversed into a bin and brushed along a hedge on the way, while bordering on a blackout.
He considered my sparsely worded answer for about four seconds, before tugging sharply on my elbow, making my body collide with his.
As my legs folded underneath me in response to the abrupt movement, his arms folded around my waist and my legs turned, if possible, even less functional as they buckled as his hard body aligned with my weakened one. He pressed me up against his chest, so close that I could feel his heartbeat against my breast.
It was beating hard. Fast.
I inhaled a shaky breath as he said quietly, “Come here.”
I looked up into those amber eyes of his and had time to contemplate his two-worded command for one second before he bent and moved his left arm into the hooks of my knees. Before I really knew how it had happened, Max Evans was carrying me.
Let’s linger on that for a moment, shall we?
Max Evans, playboy extraordinaire and mystification personified, was carrying me.
I was too weak to react properly. My body wanted to feel elation at the feeling of him so close to me, at the sensation of my body being pressed into his, while my brain wanted to distance itself from his proximity and outright shiver at the situation.
To best describe it; I was confused. Due to my deteriorating condition since the fire, coupled with trying to get over my mother’s death, I didn’t have the energy to mull too much over whether Max was one of the good guys. I hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to decide if I should run and hide from him, call in the law enforcement, or trust him.
Obviously, on some level I did trust him. I wouldn’t be at his house right now, in my heightened state of vulnerability, if I didn’t.
Max brought me up the stairs to the second floor and my lips accidentally brushed against his throat.
He pushed one of the doors at the beginning of the landing open with his foot and I closed my eyes as his scent enveloped me.
I had almost slipped away into the beckoning darkness of unconsciousness as he gently placed me on his large and unmade bed. Apparently my unscheduled visit was so early in the morning that the cleaning staff hadn’t made his bed yet.
Naturally, I assumed that Max Evans had people making his bed for him.
The intimacy of the wrinkled bed sheets surrounding me and the smell of him from the pillow pressed against the back of my head coupled with the morning attire of sweatpants and a white T-shirt he was wearing, tempted me to sleep. To drift away.
“Stay with me,” he mumbled and my eyes snapped open.
He was seated next to me, his right hip against my left, looking at me as if I was about to vanish into thin air any second.
I felt myself falling into those eyes of sadness and forced myself to break away from his hold, letting my curiosity master the fatigue as I glanced around the room. A strong sense of déjà vu hit me with full blast as I took in his room.
Had I been here before?
No. I frowned. No, the Halloween party was the first time I was at Max’s house and I was only downstairs for that one.
“Is this your room?” I asked, mostly in an attempt to smother the loaded silence (and to help me stay conscious). Of course it was his room.
“Tell me what happened,” Max interrupted, an impatient sharpness to his voice. “Start from the beginning.”
I blinked. “Well… You did something to me, but you are probably more equipped at accounting for whatever hell that was than me.” My words were slurred. So tired. I was so tired.
He frowned, but apparently let it slide. “After. When you got to Maria’s.”
“My mom’s dead,” I stated, with more grief than I had intended. I really didn’t have the energy to answer any of his questions.
His eyes softened and he silently brought his hand up to the side of my face, gently touching a strand of my hair between his fingers before cradling my cheek against his palm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and he looked so sad that I had to look away, the barely suppressed grief over my mother’s absence suffocating me. I tried to inhale, but my lungs felt like they would explode. My body wanted to sob and cry hysterically.
His thumb pressed into the softness of my cheek and he gently commanded me, “Breathe.”
“I can’t,” I pressed out, controlling my emotions by squeezing my fists tightly.
His hand moved from my cheek to the top of my chest, his fingertips touching my exposed collarbone above the hem of my shirt and his palm came to rest on the upper part of my breast. The touch wasn’t really making it easier for me to breathe. As he leaned in, his lips two inches from mine, I thought my chest was going to explode for real.
Closer now, he repeated, “Breathe.”
And the pressure was instantly released from my chest, my grief downgraded from frantic to semi-manageable.
I looked up at the golden flecks in his brown eyes and asked, fearfully, “What did you do?”
He took a deep breath and leaned back, removing his scorching touch from my chest. Giving me space. The air in the room felt ice-cold in the absence of his touch.
“Your mom couldn’t be saved,” he said slowly, avoiding my eyes.
I managed to raise up on my elbows, trying to get closer to him. I couldn’t hide the anger and hurt in my voice as I asked, “What do you mean?”
“When I got to you…” he swallowed and I could see his Adam’s apple bop. “She was already dead.”
“You saw her?” I asked, my voice breaking with restrained tears.
He nodded, but didn’t offer any more explanation than that.
“Did you try?” I started sobbing. “Did you try and save her?”
We both knew what I meant. Had Max even attempted to save my mom the way he had saved me, when he erased my injuries?
“Liz,” he whispered regretfully.
I didn’t need him to tell me. The answer was clearly written across his face. But he told me anyway, “She was already dead.”
“Are you sure? What if it wasn’t too late?” my voice wrenched out of my chest as the grief and the need to blame someone for what had happened escalated. “What if she was still alive and you,” I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, balling it up in my hands in frustrated despair, “you just left her there to die.”
He looked like I had hit him. He appeared deeply hurt by my poorly veiled accusation.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said between tight lips. “I would never do that.”
“She could have been alive,” I whispered as the truth hit me. Max’s ability (whatever hell it was) would have been magical if he had just saved my mom.
My head was swimming, unconsciousness knocking at the entrance to my mind, demanding entry. The crying was quickly draining me, laboring my breathing, making my heartbeat fainter.
He looked at me with trepidation and grabbed my upper arms just as my eyes closed.
“Calm down, Liz,” he said, almost sternly.
“You should have just let me die,” I mumbled, the words trembling.
“No,” he said and there was a finality to his objection that took the edge off the anticipated panic attack.
My body was intently wound up while simultaneously fading in fatigue. I didn’t know if I should cry or throw up. My heart felt like it was breaking into millions of pieces. My skin was heating up; I imagined my skin cracking from the heat.
I slowly licked my parched lips; that simple act hurt.
“Where does it hurt?” his voice asked.
My eyelids were too heavy; impossible to lift.
“Everywhere,” I mumbled.
“Does ‘everywhere’ mean the places you were burnt?” he continued.
I managed an unimpressive nod. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was as dry as the desert. “My back. My arm. My face. My leg.”
The heat intensified with my emotions and a scream was building inside of me. There was just so much pain one could stand, as my physical pain was now coupled with the emotional. I let go of Max’s shirt, which apparently I was still holding onto, and took a hold of the bottom hem of my own shirt, pulling it upwards with a sharp tug.
“Too warm,” I gasped. “I’m too warm.”
His hands were cool on mine as he tried to stop my movements. The air hit my skin and I felt a momentary relief before the pain intensified on the left side of my body.
“Jesus,” Max mumbled and I was afraid to open my eyes to see what had put that terror in his voice. What was he seeing?
His hands left the back of mine and moved to splay out over my exposed stomach. My whole body sighed in relief. There was something about his touch…
“Open your eyes,” he requested quietly, his voice sounding distant, as if his attention was divided. “I need you to open your eyes. Just like before.”
So I did. With the last ounce of energy in my body, I pried them open, wondering how long I would be able to keep them open.
I wished that I hadn’t. His eyes were flicking to my stomach and, against my better judgment, I followed his gaze to my exposed abdomen and saw my skin grow blisters at a frightening speed, fluid stretch the interior of the lesions, before the pressure got too high and the blisters basically ruptured.
My skin was exploding.
Max looked away from my tarnished stomach and forced my eyes to connect with his. Even though my skin was rupturing, he didn’t remove his hands, instead fluttering them across the uneven skin, chilling my skin in their trail.
In the midst of everything falling apart, I was, on a purely vulnerable and adolescent level, relieved that he hadn’t left me. That he hadn’t given up on me just because I was probably the grossest thing he’d ever seen.
“Don’t blink,” he commanded and our gazes interlocked.
I couldn’t blink. Couldn’t look away.
”Max.”
“Sgt. Carter,” I acknowledged and nodded my head respectfully. I avoided to meet his eyes. He didn’t approve of that.
“Sit down, son,” Sean Carter’s father said and pointed to one of the antique massive oak chairs surrounding the large solid oak table.
“Thank you, sir.” I tried to hide my nervousness as I pulled out the chair and sank down. Being summoned for a meeting with the sergeant was rarely a good thing.
Sgt. Carter didn’t sit down, looming over me with his presence. He sucked all the air out of a room. Not many things scared me, but Sean’s father operated on an extreme level of intimidation.
“My son had some interesting information about a party. A party at your house this weekend.”
I tried to not display any feelings on my face, but couldn’t stop my jaw from clenching.
“Yes, sir. It was a Halloween party. We have it every year.”
“Hmm,” Sgt. Carter said in fake contemplation, rubbing his chin as he walked up to the window and gazed out. With his back to me, he asked, “Anything you want to tell me about the party? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“No, sir,” I denied and focused on calming my breath. He could smell fear.
There was a pause. The large clock on the wall ticked. And tocked.
“Don’t lie to me, son.”
His voice was low and menacing, causing the hairs on my arms to stand up.
I swallowed. Sweat was breaking out on my forehead. Agitation was dampening my palms. I rubbed them discreetly against my jeans. “Well. Come to think of it. Isabel hurt herself.”
He still had his back to me. “Badly?”
“She was bleeding quite profusely, sir.”
“And did you do something about it?”
“I healed her, sir.”
“Did anyone see you?”
A chill raced through me and caught my heart in a vice-like grip. He knew.
“I took care of it,” I said quietly, keeping the tempting trembles out of my voice.
The second the last syllable left my lips, I was propelled out of the chair (it clattered to the floor behind me with a loud thud) and my back violently struck the wall. I heard something crack, pain vibrating from my ribcage, and gravity brutally ripped me to the floor.
“You have to be more careful, son,” Sgt. Carter said darkly, his voice getting closer as I laid on the floor in pain, trying to pull myself and my dignity upwards.
His hand whipped across my face and pain exploded through my nose and across my cheek. I tasted blood in my mouth before another hit was aimed at my abdomen.
I gasped, “No…”
“Shh,” he hushed, holding onto my gaze.
I wondered if he could see what I saw when his memories flashed through my mind. If he revisited the traumatizing feelings he had experienced when being physically abused by Sean Carter’s dad.
At the same time as I could feel a whisper of what Max had gone through while being beat up, I could feel energy return to my body. And I was pretty sure Max was the battery that was feeding me that power.
My hand instinctually and tightly wrapped around his wrist and my voice was dry as I cracked a whisper of, “Stop.”
If he was the battery that was charging me, he would be drained.
Instead of him pulling back at my quiet plea, my mind was assaulted by another vision.
”So. Are you gonna ask Liz Parker to the party?”
I pulled the sweater over my head, which messed up my hair. “Maybe.”
“She won’t say ‘yes’, you know.”
I raised a disinterested eyebrow, “And how do you know?”
My sister leaned against the doorway to my room, plucking with the silver necklace around her neck, before answering casually, “Because she’s afraid of you, of course.”
A grin spread across my lips and I shook my head as I moved to find my cell phone. “I know.”
It was not like I enjoyed that Liz Parker was afraid of me. I just found it ironic that the only girl I’ve ever been interested in, avoided me at all costs.
My eyes widened as Max’s honest thoughts echoed through my head.
The only girl I’ve ever been interested in…
I could almost feel life being breathed into my pale cheeks, energy brightening my eyes, vitality strengthening my body and my very essence awakening my muddled brain.
My breath hitched as the heightened awareness that came with renewed health registered the movements of his hands over my body. The pads of his fingers brushed along the bottom of my ribcage, over my ribs, grazing the base of my bra and pushed between my back and the mattress.
He was tracing my injuries like a painter would make pastels flow across the canvas.
I was heating up again, but for a completely different reason.
No boy had ever touched me like this.
The feeling was acutely intimate and personal. Max’s eyes looking into mine the whole time made the experience even more intense.
He was leaning over me, his waist brushing against my pelvis, and I could feel the shudder that rocked his body vibrate from his bones to mine. Out of my peripheral vision I could dimly trace the sweat droplets along his hairline, the wrinkle of strain marking his forehead and the increasing exertion in his eyes.
I felt another vision (or whatever I should call it) come on as he removed his hands from my back and traced them up my arms, mending the fracture that was starting to reappear, breaking the bones in my left arm. The previous fracture from the burning roof beam that had fallen on me.
But instead of letting his memories flow into my mind in another walk down Max’s Memory Lane, I used my healed arms to push at him and forced my eyes to blink and release myself from his grip.
He inhaled sharply, as if released from a spell, and leaned on me, breathing heavily.
I was at a loss at what to do. Was he about to pass out again? Should I help him move?
Should I just stay there and revel in the feel of his weight on top of me?
“Why did you do that?” he whispered, his voice listless as his strained breaths caressed my exposed shoulder, where my shirt had fallen down.
I forcefully pushed the sensation out of my mind.
Instead I said, “You were doing too much,” my voice stronger than his now. “You passed out last time, you know.”
“I know,” he mumbled and raised his head to look at me. “I’m not done.”
“I don’t care,” I answered, goosebumps forming as I flicked my eyes to his lips. So close to mine. “You need a break.”
“Liz…” he said disapprovingly, weakened.
“Max,” I countered.
He clenched his jaw and pulled himself off me. A trembling breath left me along with the sudden loss of his weight.
Sitting up next to me, back into his ‘starting position’, he reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”
TBC...
Last edited by max and liz believer on Sun Jul 02, 2017 6:15 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Roswelllostcause
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1992
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Motown
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
Wow! Liz has just gotten an eye full of Max's life! But she was right to stop him when she did. But I still got the feeling that the Evans family knows something about what bus really going on.
Check out my Author page for a list of my fics!
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
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keepsmiling7
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 2649
- Joined: Thu Jun 28, 2007 9:34 pm
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
Interesting encounter between Liz and Max.......
Don't know what to think about Sgt. Carter.
Thanks for the new part
Don't know what to think about Sgt. Carter.
Thanks for the new part
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
Great Chapter!!!! Please please please please please please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max and Liz. Wow that was interesting what was going on between Max and Liz. I'm glad Liz pushed Max away. I know Max needs to finish healing Liz but Liz was right Max didn't need to pass out again. I don't know what to think of Carter yet. Will Max and Liz a little before Max finishes healing Liz? What will Max and Liz talk about? Will Max finish healing Liz? Will Liz ask Max about what she saw? Will Max tell the truth or lie? Will Liz believe him or catch him? Will Max and Liz start talking more? Will Max and Liz fall for each other? Will Max and Liz kiss? Will Max tell Liz the truth about him, Isabel and Michael? Will Liz believe Max? Will Liz walk away from Max? Will Max and Liz admit their feeling to each other? So sorry for the questions I was just wondering. Please please please please please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max and Liz.
From:
L-J-L 76
From:
L-J-L 76
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begonia9508
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1125
- Joined: Sat Nov 17, 2001 2:37 am
- Location: Somewhere lost in chocolat Land
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
Really interesting part!
So, reading it, I came to realize that quite all Roswell people are aliens... or at least, a lot more than in the show anyway...
But until now, I don't really get what's the problem is, between Liz and all, these people!
and who is and isn't... alien that's it!
EVE
So, reading it, I came to realize that quite all Roswell people are aliens... or at least, a lot more than in the show anyway...
But until now, I don't really get what's the problem is, between Liz and all, these people!
and who is and isn't... alien that's it! EVE
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
I love the heat between them lol. I love my puns lol. Anyways. I'm glad she made it to Max. His memories are interesting. So the government is involved in watching the aliens. How does Liz play into it though. Max has watched her from afar. He has feelings for her and Iz knows it. But no one can know their secret or they are in trouble. But what about Liz? Who is she? And does Max know? Love it.
Re: Unbreakable (AU, M/L, ADULT) Ch 15, 7/4/15, p. 12
Please come back and post more really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max and Liz. So please come back and post more really soon?
From:
L-J-L 76
From:
L-J-L 76
-
max and liz believer
- Obsessed Roswellian
- Posts: 821
- Joined: Sat Sep 28, 2002 10:45 am
- Location: Sweden
- Contact:
SIXTEEN
Roswelllostcause - The Evans family surely knows a lot more than Liz about what's going on… Thank you for the feedback!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Yeah, Sgt. Carter is… well, he'll be featured in future chapters so you can make up your mind about him then. Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - It was probably a good thing that Liz pushed Max away, yes. Max has a tendency to not stop until it's too late… Thank you for the feedback and thank you for the bump!
Natalie36 - Thank you!
Eve (begonia9508) - It seems as if I've confused you Don't worry, it'll all be explain… eventually. But keep going with your theories 
Thank you for the feedback!
AlysLuv I love your puns too
Thank you so much for the speculations and feedback!
From FIFTEEN:
But instead of letting his memories flow into my mind in another walk down Max’s Memory Lane, I used my healed arms to push at him and forced my eyes to blink and release myself from his grip.
He inhaled sharply, as if released from a spell, and leaned on me, breathing heavily.
I was at a loss at what to do. Was he about to pass out again? Should I help him move?
Should I just stay there and revel in the feel of his weight on top of me?
“Why did you do that?” he whispered, his voice listless as his strained breaths caressed my exposed shoulder, where my shirt had fallen down.
I forcefully pushed the sensation out of my mind.
Instead I said, “You were doing too much,” my voice stronger than his now. “You passed out last time, you know.”
“I know,” he mumbled and raised his head to look at me. “I’m not done.”
“I don’t care,” I answered, goosebumps forming as I flicked my eyes to his lips. So close to mine. “You need a break.”
“Liz…” he said disapprovingly, weakened.
“Max,” I countered.
He clenched his jaw and pulled himself off me. A trembling breath left me along with the sudden loss of his weight.
Sitting up next to me, back into his ‘starting position’, he reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”
SIXTEEN
He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in a fascinating way. I stared, bewitched, as I slowly move into a seated position.
“How long has it been like this?” he asked breathlessly, rubbing his hands over his face, and my captivation with the beauty of Max Evans was (temporarily) broken.
“Since the fire,” I mumbled.
His head snapped to mine and there were strong disbelief and incomprehension marking his features. “But I healed you.”
I worried my bottom lip. “So… you really can, can you? You can heal?”
He looked away and ground out, “Yeah, I’m like the fucking Christmas miracle.”
I briefly pondered the bitterness to his voice (I would’ve been ecstatic if I could heal, but evidently Max wasn’t), before flinging a follow-up question at him, “How?”
He glanced at me and shrugged casually, before looking away and answering vaguely, “A gift from God? I don’t know.”
Something about his answer rubbed me the wrong way.
“So why doesn’t anyone know about it? Why aren’t you - or your parents - making money off this?” I’ve met his father; he probably wouldn’t be above making money off his son. “People would pilgrimage to be healed by you. They would probably pay a lot for it too.”
He rose from the chair, irritation saturating his hasty movements. I noticed how he swayed before regaining his balance; still weak from healing me.
Wow. The concept was too big for me to grasp. Still, my painless body was proof enough.
“I guess I don’t want to feel like a freak, okay?” He walked over to the window, his back towards me. “And my parents are not bad people. They wouldn’t do that.”
“Really?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Max seemed to remove all of my filters.
He sighed, his shoulders straight and tense. “Which is why you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Yeah, you already told me that,” I said with a hint of impatience.
I let my legs cross in a more comfortable position on his bed and asked, “What about the visions?”
He sighed and turned around, looking more like the more well-known version of Max Evans than he had since I fought to remain standing outside the front door to his house. “What visions?”
“When you…” my hands flew in the air to search for the most suitable description, “…healed me, I see things. Things from your perspective. I’m guessing they’re your memories.”
Max blanched. No, that would be an understatement. All color rapidly drained from his face, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened in horror.
“What…” a strangled whisper, “What do you mean?”
“I saw who hurt you that night. It was Sean Carter’s father, wasn’t it?”
I was observing his reactions; categorizing and putting them away for later. There was something more going on here. Not that I was an expert on people with the power to heal, but from all the ‘Praise Jesus’ and ‘Hallelujahs’ I’ve watched in response to seemingly gifted people putting their hands on damaged persons and fixing them, I’ve never heard anything about the cured getting private information or images from their healer.
He stared at me. His hands were shaking as they hung limply along his sides. His breathing was uneven and with his hair still standing in all directions, he looked like a madman about to explode.
The state of pending disaster lasted for about five seconds before something flowed through him, transforming him. The change perfectly described the phrase ‘pull yourself together’. He straightened, lifted his chest and regained control over his face.
“Liz,” he practically drawled and I was instantly put on edge, bracing myself for what he might say. “You were in a really bad condition. That obviously messed with your head. Made you… I don’t know,” he shrugged and almost grinned, “see things.”
I could feel my whole body tightening. I was certain, from his reaction, that my sudden gift of the sight was probably news even to Max. But I was equally certain that he knew my visions were real. Not some hallucinations.
“You healed me when I was younger. You were in my bedroom with your father, taking my blood.”
Max didn’t move a muscle.
“What did you do with my blood, Max? Why were you doing that?”
He huffed. “Liz, listen to yourself. I was in your room? Taking your blood? Now…why would I do that?”
I looked at him straight-on, refusing to blink. “Because there’s something else going on here. Maybe you needed my blood for experimentation. Maybe you drink human blood-“
He laughed at this and I felt a hurtful darkness spread in my body. I interrupted him with a bite, “This is serious!”
“Okay,” Max agreed, stilling his laughter and walking closer to the bed - closer to me. “Tell me. What exactly am I?”
“I don’t know!” I cried in frustration, hitting his bed spread with my fists. “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?”
His scrutinizing eyes caressed my face and he sighed, sinking down on the edge of the bed. Looking down at his hands, he offered quietly, “I can heal, Liz. That’s it. Whatever you experienced while I did that, I… I can’t explain. The brain does odd things to you when you’re badly injured.” He looked up at me, catching my doubting look. “You know, like how they say that Near Death Experiences are due to the brain shutting down. Impulses. The same with walking towards a white light.”
“I’ve never heard of the side effect of being able to see into someone’s memory,” I objected.
“How do you know that you did?” he implored seriously. “The mind can conjure up the most amazing stories.”
Yeah, Max Evans was the only one that could actually confirm that what I had seen had really happened. Listening to him trying to talk his way out of my experiences with rationality, I quickly realized that I couldn’t count on him to corroborate the information.
As my frustration grew, I got an increasing need to forcibly pull the truth out of him. “Because there were details. A lot of details that just made sense once I saw them.”
He looked down at his hands again. “Sean Carter’s dad did not beat me.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and challenged, “Then who did?”
He took a deep breath. “I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some guy jumped me out of the blue; I never got the chance to see his face.”
“Some guy just jumped you? Unprovoked?” I asked dubiously.
He nodded and opened his mouth to respond. A knock at the door interrupted what he was about to say.
“Max?”
I chilled at the voice on the other side of the door, unconsciously pressing my fingers into the bedspread and tightening them around the material.
Max’s whole body went rigid and he glanced briefly at the closed door before looking back at me and putting a finger in front of his mouth in the implied universal gesture of ‘Be quiet’.
But whatever plan Max had come up with at the drop of a hat was immediately squashed as the door opened, before Max even had the chance to rise from the bed.
Mr. Evans was impressive and intimidating in stature, filling out the larger part of the doorway as the door flung open.
His eyebrows rose as he caught sight of me on his son’s bed, but other than that his face was blank.
I could only assume that he hadn’t expected to see me in Max’s room, but there was no surprise on his face as he calmly stated, “Ms. Parker.”
I felt the sudden need to explain my presence. How must this look? I was in his son’s bedroom with the door closed, on his bed.
Considering the early hour of the day, Max’s father could easily be tempted to jump to the conclusion that I had snuck into Max’s room already during the night and spent the last couple of hours in Max’s company.
I opened my mouth to explain, without having an explanation ready, “I-“, but Max beat me to it.
“Liz needed my help catching up on some school work.” Max didn’t look at me. “She’s missed a lot of stuff. Since her mother’s passing…”
“Right,” Mr. Evans said as Max trailed off, his eyes never for a second straying from my face. “I heard.” An empathetic smile graced his lips. “My condolences, Liz.”
I swallowed. There was something quite unpleasant about him using my first name. It was really disconcerting when he referred to me as ‘Ms. Parker’ as well, but I was very certain that I didn’t want him to call me by my nickname ever again.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“She was just leaving,” Max said and looked at me.
I trembled at the intensity behind the pointed look he gave me as he added, “Weren’t you, Liz?”
For a second, I was unable to move. Time seemed frozen as I felt the eyes of the older and younger Evans trained on me.
“Yeah,” I whispered and cleared my throat to repeat with more force, “Yeah,” as I scrambled off the bed.
“I’ll show you out,” Mr. Evans offered.
“That’s okay, Dad,” Max objected, lining up next to my hesitant shape. “I’ll take her.”
“Shouldn’t you get ready for school, son?” Mr. Evans said and gave Max - what could only be described as - a commanding look. Leaving no room for objections.
I could tell that he hesitated, unusually unsure of himself, but after merely a second of silence he looked at me and said with conflicted eyes, “Uhm… I’ll talk to you later?”
He was going to leave me with his father. My heart sank to the bottom of my feet, where it proceeded to shake with cold fear.
But he wouldn't do that if he thought his dad would hurt me, would he?
Would he?
He searched my face and I was pretty sure that my fear was plainly visible in my expression.
“Come along, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Evans interrupted the locking of our eyes. “Let’s leave my son to make himself a bit more…presentable.”
“Sure,” I mumbled and walked towards the door. Max’s eyes were burning into my the back of my neck.
Mr. Evans reached out and closed the door behind us, before grabbing me by the elbow.
I inhaled sharply at the intrusive contact and the tight harshness of his hold. He was pulling me along the corridor before I had a chance to get my bearings back together.
“Let go of me,” I hissed under my breath, glaring up at his profile. I was, more than ever before, acutely aware of my petite height of 5’2. Mr. Evans presence was oppressive.
Instead of releasing his hold, Mr. Evans said calmly, “We both know that my son wasn’t telling the truth in there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said between clenched teeth, tugging futilely at my arm to free it.
Mr. Evans pulled me down the stairs, his pace rapid and forceful, almost making me trip on the stairs.
Maybe his hold on my elbow would at least prevent me from falling down the stairs…
When we reached the bottom landing, he let go of my elbow and stopped. I reflectively pulled my elbow close to my body, rubbing at the soreness with my other hand.
“You hurt me,” I accused, meeting his eyes. He might intimidate me, but he couldn’t stop me from speaking my mind.
“What was the reason behind your visit?” Mr. Evans asked, ignoring my previous non-reply and my accusation at his insensitivity.
I searched his blank eyes, my thoughts running a mile a minute. What would be the smartest road of action here? Should I collaborate Max’s lie? Even though his father had already seen through it?
I had a distinct feeling I couldn’t tell him the truth. I don’t really know why, but I was pretty sure that Max’s dad wasn’t in on the whole Max-having-healed-me thingy. And I really didn’t feel like pissing Mr. Evans off more than necessary.
I settled for telling him a new lie. A better lie.
“I wanted to ask him what he was doing outside of my house the night of the fire,” I said, marking my voice with frustration while I crossed my arms tightly across my chest. “Something started that fire and-“
Mr. Evans looked almost amused as he raised a curious eyebrow, and interrupted me with, “And you think my son started the fire?”
“Your son-,” I spit out, pouring every ounce of acting skills into protecting the secret Max and I had come to share, “-if you haven’t noticed, is a very weird guy. At least at school. No offense, since he’s your son and all.”
Mr. Evans seemed even more amused. “Go on.”
“The fire occurred really early on a Sunday morning,” I continued, hoping that Mr. Evans’ amusement was fueled by my depiction of his son and not because he might not be believing me. “What would he be doing there?”
Mr. Evans reflected my stance by crossing his own arms across his chest. “Max likes to take really early runs. He’s something of - what do you kids call it,” he smiled, “- a health nut.”
Good.
I refrained from taking a deep breath of relief. Philip Evans seemed to believe me. Instead of interrogating me, he had switched to protecting and covering for his son. Which could only mean that he believed I was here to put Max on the spot and nothing else.
I swallowed. My throat was dry.
“Still odd,” I mumbled, dropping my eyes.
“Maybe you’ll do best at staying away from him then,” Mr. Evans pointed out and I looked up at him. His calculating eyes were observing me intently.
“Yeah,” I said and added with acid, “I would appreciate it if you would tell him to stay away from me too.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Evans agreed and opened the front door. With a pointed gesture towards the opening, he nodded, “Goodbye, Ms. Parker.”
My mouth twitched in what could’ve been a smile. It wasn’t.
“Bye,” I murmured and walked out the door of the large mansion.
The door slammed closed behind me and relief rushed over me with such intensity that I had to concentrate to not crumble to the ground.
Max Evans had healed me. Again.
Sean Carter’s dad had beaten Max.
But the most mind-blowing and slightly frightening was; Max Evans was interested in me.
TBC...
Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Yeah, Sgt. Carter is… well, he'll be featured in future chapters so you can make up your mind about him then. Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - It was probably a good thing that Liz pushed Max away, yes. Max has a tendency to not stop until it's too late… Thank you for the feedback and thank you for the bump!
Natalie36 - Thank you!
Eve (begonia9508) - It seems as if I've confused you
Don't worry, it'll all be explain… eventually. But keep going with your theories Thank you for the feedback!AlysLuv
HahaI love the heat between them lol. I love my puns lol.
I love your puns too
Perhaps…So the government is involved in watching the aliens.
Thank you so much for the speculations and feedback!
From FIFTEEN:
But instead of letting his memories flow into my mind in another walk down Max’s Memory Lane, I used my healed arms to push at him and forced my eyes to blink and release myself from his grip.
He inhaled sharply, as if released from a spell, and leaned on me, breathing heavily.
I was at a loss at what to do. Was he about to pass out again? Should I help him move?
Should I just stay there and revel in the feel of his weight on top of me?
“Why did you do that?” he whispered, his voice listless as his strained breaths caressed my exposed shoulder, where my shirt had fallen down.
I forcefully pushed the sensation out of my mind.
Instead I said, “You were doing too much,” my voice stronger than his now. “You passed out last time, you know.”
“I know,” he mumbled and raised his head to look at me. “I’m not done.”
“I don’t care,” I answered, goosebumps forming as I flicked my eyes to his lips. So close to mine. “You need a break.”
“Liz…” he said disapprovingly, weakened.
“Max,” I countered.
He clenched his jaw and pulled himself off me. A trembling breath left me along with the sudden loss of his weight.
Sitting up next to me, back into his ‘starting position’, he reluctantly agreed, “Fine.”
____________________________________
He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up in a fascinating way. I stared, bewitched, as I slowly move into a seated position.
“How long has it been like this?” he asked breathlessly, rubbing his hands over his face, and my captivation with the beauty of Max Evans was (temporarily) broken.
“Since the fire,” I mumbled.
His head snapped to mine and there were strong disbelief and incomprehension marking his features. “But I healed you.”
I worried my bottom lip. “So… you really can, can you? You can heal?”
He looked away and ground out, “Yeah, I’m like the fucking Christmas miracle.”
I briefly pondered the bitterness to his voice (I would’ve been ecstatic if I could heal, but evidently Max wasn’t), before flinging a follow-up question at him, “How?”
He glanced at me and shrugged casually, before looking away and answering vaguely, “A gift from God? I don’t know.”
Something about his answer rubbed me the wrong way.
“So why doesn’t anyone know about it? Why aren’t you - or your parents - making money off this?” I’ve met his father; he probably wouldn’t be above making money off his son. “People would pilgrimage to be healed by you. They would probably pay a lot for it too.”
He rose from the chair, irritation saturating his hasty movements. I noticed how he swayed before regaining his balance; still weak from healing me.
Wow. The concept was too big for me to grasp. Still, my painless body was proof enough.
“I guess I don’t want to feel like a freak, okay?” He walked over to the window, his back towards me. “And my parents are not bad people. They wouldn’t do that.”
“Really?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Max seemed to remove all of my filters.
He sighed, his shoulders straight and tense. “Which is why you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Yeah, you already told me that,” I said with a hint of impatience.
I let my legs cross in a more comfortable position on his bed and asked, “What about the visions?”
He sighed and turned around, looking more like the more well-known version of Max Evans than he had since I fought to remain standing outside the front door to his house. “What visions?”
“When you…” my hands flew in the air to search for the most suitable description, “…healed me, I see things. Things from your perspective. I’m guessing they’re your memories.”
Max blanched. No, that would be an understatement. All color rapidly drained from his face, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened in horror.
“What…” a strangled whisper, “What do you mean?”
“I saw who hurt you that night. It was Sean Carter’s father, wasn’t it?”
I was observing his reactions; categorizing and putting them away for later. There was something more going on here. Not that I was an expert on people with the power to heal, but from all the ‘Praise Jesus’ and ‘Hallelujahs’ I’ve watched in response to seemingly gifted people putting their hands on damaged persons and fixing them, I’ve never heard anything about the cured getting private information or images from their healer.
He stared at me. His hands were shaking as they hung limply along his sides. His breathing was uneven and with his hair still standing in all directions, he looked like a madman about to explode.
The state of pending disaster lasted for about five seconds before something flowed through him, transforming him. The change perfectly described the phrase ‘pull yourself together’. He straightened, lifted his chest and regained control over his face.
“Liz,” he practically drawled and I was instantly put on edge, bracing myself for what he might say. “You were in a really bad condition. That obviously messed with your head. Made you… I don’t know,” he shrugged and almost grinned, “see things.”
I could feel my whole body tightening. I was certain, from his reaction, that my sudden gift of the sight was probably news even to Max. But I was equally certain that he knew my visions were real. Not some hallucinations.
“You healed me when I was younger. You were in my bedroom with your father, taking my blood.”
Max didn’t move a muscle.
“What did you do with my blood, Max? Why were you doing that?”
He huffed. “Liz, listen to yourself. I was in your room? Taking your blood? Now…why would I do that?”
I looked at him straight-on, refusing to blink. “Because there’s something else going on here. Maybe you needed my blood for experimentation. Maybe you drink human blood-“
He laughed at this and I felt a hurtful darkness spread in my body. I interrupted him with a bite, “This is serious!”
“Okay,” Max agreed, stilling his laughter and walking closer to the bed - closer to me. “Tell me. What exactly am I?”
“I don’t know!” I cried in frustration, hitting his bed spread with my fists. “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?”
His scrutinizing eyes caressed my face and he sighed, sinking down on the edge of the bed. Looking down at his hands, he offered quietly, “I can heal, Liz. That’s it. Whatever you experienced while I did that, I… I can’t explain. The brain does odd things to you when you’re badly injured.” He looked up at me, catching my doubting look. “You know, like how they say that Near Death Experiences are due to the brain shutting down. Impulses. The same with walking towards a white light.”
“I’ve never heard of the side effect of being able to see into someone’s memory,” I objected.
“How do you know that you did?” he implored seriously. “The mind can conjure up the most amazing stories.”
Yeah, Max Evans was the only one that could actually confirm that what I had seen had really happened. Listening to him trying to talk his way out of my experiences with rationality, I quickly realized that I couldn’t count on him to corroborate the information.
As my frustration grew, I got an increasing need to forcibly pull the truth out of him. “Because there were details. A lot of details that just made sense once I saw them.”
He looked down at his hands again. “Sean Carter’s dad did not beat me.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and challenged, “Then who did?”
He took a deep breath. “I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Some guy jumped me out of the blue; I never got the chance to see his face.”
“Some guy just jumped you? Unprovoked?” I asked dubiously.
He nodded and opened his mouth to respond. A knock at the door interrupted what he was about to say.
“Max?”
I chilled at the voice on the other side of the door, unconsciously pressing my fingers into the bedspread and tightening them around the material.
Max’s whole body went rigid and he glanced briefly at the closed door before looking back at me and putting a finger in front of his mouth in the implied universal gesture of ‘Be quiet’.
But whatever plan Max had come up with at the drop of a hat was immediately squashed as the door opened, before Max even had the chance to rise from the bed.
Mr. Evans was impressive and intimidating in stature, filling out the larger part of the doorway as the door flung open.
His eyebrows rose as he caught sight of me on his son’s bed, but other than that his face was blank.
I could only assume that he hadn’t expected to see me in Max’s room, but there was no surprise on his face as he calmly stated, “Ms. Parker.”
I felt the sudden need to explain my presence. How must this look? I was in his son’s bedroom with the door closed, on his bed.
Considering the early hour of the day, Max’s father could easily be tempted to jump to the conclusion that I had snuck into Max’s room already during the night and spent the last couple of hours in Max’s company.
I opened my mouth to explain, without having an explanation ready, “I-“, but Max beat me to it.
“Liz needed my help catching up on some school work.” Max didn’t look at me. “She’s missed a lot of stuff. Since her mother’s passing…”
“Right,” Mr. Evans said as Max trailed off, his eyes never for a second straying from my face. “I heard.” An empathetic smile graced his lips. “My condolences, Liz.”
I swallowed. There was something quite unpleasant about him using my first name. It was really disconcerting when he referred to me as ‘Ms. Parker’ as well, but I was very certain that I didn’t want him to call me by my nickname ever again.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“She was just leaving,” Max said and looked at me.
I trembled at the intensity behind the pointed look he gave me as he added, “Weren’t you, Liz?”
For a second, I was unable to move. Time seemed frozen as I felt the eyes of the older and younger Evans trained on me.
“Yeah,” I whispered and cleared my throat to repeat with more force, “Yeah,” as I scrambled off the bed.
“I’ll show you out,” Mr. Evans offered.
“That’s okay, Dad,” Max objected, lining up next to my hesitant shape. “I’ll take her.”
“Shouldn’t you get ready for school, son?” Mr. Evans said and gave Max - what could only be described as - a commanding look. Leaving no room for objections.
I could tell that he hesitated, unusually unsure of himself, but after merely a second of silence he looked at me and said with conflicted eyes, “Uhm… I’ll talk to you later?”
He was going to leave me with his father. My heart sank to the bottom of my feet, where it proceeded to shake with cold fear.
But he wouldn't do that if he thought his dad would hurt me, would he?
Would he?
He searched my face and I was pretty sure that my fear was plainly visible in my expression.
“Come along, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Evans interrupted the locking of our eyes. “Let’s leave my son to make himself a bit more…presentable.”
“Sure,” I mumbled and walked towards the door. Max’s eyes were burning into my the back of my neck.
Mr. Evans reached out and closed the door behind us, before grabbing me by the elbow.
I inhaled sharply at the intrusive contact and the tight harshness of his hold. He was pulling me along the corridor before I had a chance to get my bearings back together.
“Let go of me,” I hissed under my breath, glaring up at his profile. I was, more than ever before, acutely aware of my petite height of 5’2. Mr. Evans presence was oppressive.
Instead of releasing his hold, Mr. Evans said calmly, “We both know that my son wasn’t telling the truth in there.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said between clenched teeth, tugging futilely at my arm to free it.
Mr. Evans pulled me down the stairs, his pace rapid and forceful, almost making me trip on the stairs.
Maybe his hold on my elbow would at least prevent me from falling down the stairs…
When we reached the bottom landing, he let go of my elbow and stopped. I reflectively pulled my elbow close to my body, rubbing at the soreness with my other hand.
“You hurt me,” I accused, meeting his eyes. He might intimidate me, but he couldn’t stop me from speaking my mind.
“What was the reason behind your visit?” Mr. Evans asked, ignoring my previous non-reply and my accusation at his insensitivity.
I searched his blank eyes, my thoughts running a mile a minute. What would be the smartest road of action here? Should I collaborate Max’s lie? Even though his father had already seen through it?
I had a distinct feeling I couldn’t tell him the truth. I don’t really know why, but I was pretty sure that Max’s dad wasn’t in on the whole Max-having-healed-me thingy. And I really didn’t feel like pissing Mr. Evans off more than necessary.
I settled for telling him a new lie. A better lie.
“I wanted to ask him what he was doing outside of my house the night of the fire,” I said, marking my voice with frustration while I crossed my arms tightly across my chest. “Something started that fire and-“
Mr. Evans looked almost amused as he raised a curious eyebrow, and interrupted me with, “And you think my son started the fire?”
“Your son-,” I spit out, pouring every ounce of acting skills into protecting the secret Max and I had come to share, “-if you haven’t noticed, is a very weird guy. At least at school. No offense, since he’s your son and all.”
Mr. Evans seemed even more amused. “Go on.”
“The fire occurred really early on a Sunday morning,” I continued, hoping that Mr. Evans’ amusement was fueled by my depiction of his son and not because he might not be believing me. “What would he be doing there?”
Mr. Evans reflected my stance by crossing his own arms across his chest. “Max likes to take really early runs. He’s something of - what do you kids call it,” he smiled, “- a health nut.”
Good.
I refrained from taking a deep breath of relief. Philip Evans seemed to believe me. Instead of interrogating me, he had switched to protecting and covering for his son. Which could only mean that he believed I was here to put Max on the spot and nothing else.
I swallowed. My throat was dry.
“Still odd,” I mumbled, dropping my eyes.
“Maybe you’ll do best at staying away from him then,” Mr. Evans pointed out and I looked up at him. His calculating eyes were observing me intently.
“Yeah,” I said and added with acid, “I would appreciate it if you would tell him to stay away from me too.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Parker,” Mr. Evans agreed and opened the front door. With a pointed gesture towards the opening, he nodded, “Goodbye, Ms. Parker.”
My mouth twitched in what could’ve been a smile. It wasn’t.
“Bye,” I murmured and walked out the door of the large mansion.
The door slammed closed behind me and relief rushed over me with such intensity that I had to concentrate to not crumble to the ground.
Max Evans had healed me. Again.
Sean Carter’s dad had beaten Max.
But the most mind-blowing and slightly frightening was; Max Evans was interested in me.
TBC...
Last edited by max and liz believer on Sun Jul 02, 2017 6:18 am, edited 2 times in total.