





Round 4 Winner






Round 3 Winner






Zan

Zan
Aftermath
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Email: dao2027@aol.com
Category: Max and Liz
Rating: ADULT
Disclaimer: I don’t own Roswell, and have no association with one who does.
Author note: First off, apologies to DMartinez for any name similarities between her fic, Aftermath of War, and this one. No infringement on her title is intended. You can find hers on the UC/Slash board.
This story is rather dark and angsty, and parts of it may be hard to read for some of you. As the title says, it deals with the "Aftermath" of what Max was subjected to in the White Room. The show never really dealt with that, other than touching on it in ARCC.
The first four parts will track closely with Destiny, until the end of part four when we go off in "my" direction. Some of the dialogue and scenes will be the same, some will be VERY different!
We begin at the start of Destiny. Everything up to this point is the same as what you saw on the show. Michael and Valenti have broken Max out of the facility Pierce held him in. Max climbs in the car with Liz and they make their escape, with Michael and Valenti splitting the cars up and driving in different directions. Shots ring out and Liz loses control of the car.
Liz and Max flee into the night . . .
Aftermath
Part 1
They were running through the darkness, running for their lives, with their pursuers close behind. They could hear them in the near distance, growing closer as their own energy waned. The boy’s lungs burned from the exertion and his legs were ready to collapse. The girl’s sides ached and the cold night air could do nothing to ease the fire that burned in her throat. His arm was around her, holding her close, knowing it was only a matter of time before they were captured and he would be returned to the torture of the White Room.
Only this time, Max knew he wouldn’t be the only one. This time, they would have Liz too. He couldn’t let that happen.
Their footsteps echoed as they raced across the blacktop, and suddenly he was blinded by headlights. He squinted in the sudden brightness, but he didn’t need to be able to see to know who it was. The bad men were here. They’d been found. There was no escape behind them, no escape in front of them. Max looked wildly around, in a panic to protect Liz, and then they raced for the abutment. They climbed onto the stone wall and looked down into the forbidding water below, both knowing it was their only option, their only chance for survival.
Looking silently into each other’s eyes, they knew they had no other choice. They kissed, knowing their odds weren’t good, a kiss full of longing for what would probably never be, and then they looked down into the swirling water, and they jumped . . .
* * * * *
Liz trudged carefully over the rough terrain, trying to remember when her life had spiraled out of control. Was it the night at the carnival when Max had been captured by the FBI, or was it that rainy evening when she looked outside the Crashdown window and saw him with Tess? Or had it happened even before that, on one sunny day in the month of September, when the sound of a gunshot changed her entire world?
Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, she could feel his cold hand in hers. Max. Max Evans. The boy who had changed her life. The boy who had saved her life. The boy who had healed a bullet hole two inches below her ribs, with only the touch of his hand. And in the aftermath of that eventful day, she – Liz Parker, would never be the same.
How could she be, when the boy she’d know since childhood, the boy she’d dreamt about for years, the boy she knew would never give a science geek like her a second glance, risked everything to save her life. He’d bared his soul in doing so, and turned her world upside down. For it was at that moment when she first learned Max Evans wasn’t like any other teenage boy she knew.
How could he be, when he wasn’t even human.
“We've got to hide,” Liz looked around seeking some type of shelter. They had climbed out of the water minutes, maybe hours ago, and Max was exhausted. He stumbled along behind her, letting her lead the way, holding her hand tightly, as if he was afraid she would disappear. He fell again and she stopped to help him up, feeling how wet his clothes were from the river.
Pain wracked his body as his leaden feet stumbled over the rough ground. Physical pain. Psychological pain. Emotional pain. His body was exhausted from the torture the FBI had inflicted on him and his psyche had been pushed to the limits. But the worst part, the thing he’d agonized over for years, his worst nightmare, seemed to be coming true.
Liz Parker was in danger, and it was all because of him. The guilt of it was nearly more than he could bear.
Seeing an old abandoned delivery van ahead, Liz pulled on his hand, urging him along. “Come on, in here. Come on, Max. Come on. I think we'll be safe in here for a while. They don't know how far down river we got.”
She led him into the van and Max stumbled over to an old threadbare couch. He sat down heavily and she hovered over him, checking his condition, touching his cold face and brushing back his damp hair. Their eyes locked on each other and they were drawn together in a kiss. The horror of what they’d done to him flashed across her mind and Liz reeled back from him, staring at him in shock.
“Max . . .”
“Liz . . .” he uttered, wishing she hadn’t seen. It was a curse, this alien wizardry that allowed them to connect, for her to see the images he could project with his mind. A curse he couldn’t control.
“Oh my God, Max. What they did to you . . .”
“Don’t think about it, Liz,” his eyes looked up at her pleadingly. “It’s over.”
Her mind assessed everything she had seen in the flash and she numbly sat down next to him. His capture in the mirror maze. The torture he suffered in the White Room. The truth written on the pages of the Destiny Book. She had seen it all and the truth was stark and cold.
“So everything Nasedo told me was true,” Liz said, trying to be strong. “You and Tess were meant to be together.” She was crushed, devastated by the knowledge.
“Liz.” The pain he saw in her eyes, heard in her voice, was breaking his heart. He watched her as she rose to her feet, wanting to reach out to her, to make it all go away.
“I mean, it's your destiny, right?” She paced across the van, not able to look him in the eye, not wanting to see the awful truth there. He belonged with Tess. He was made to be with Tess. He was never meant to be with her.
“I wish I could go back, Liz,” Max trembled inside. “Back to when things were normal.”
“Me, too,” she was drowning under the guilt of what he was going through, because of her. “I just wish that I could have stopped you from saving my life that day in the Crashdown.”
“Don't say that,” Max pleaded, shaking at the prospect of a life without her.
“Max, the day that you saved my life, your life . . . just . . . ended.” She was grief stricken over the knowledge that in saving her, it had brought him only suffering.
“No,” Max avowed, “that was the day my life began.” Seeing the look on her face, he knew he had to make her understand. He couldn’t keep the truth bottled up any longer.
“Liz, when I was in that room, and they did . . . what they did to me . . . you're what kept me alive. The thought of you. The way your eyes look into mine. Your smile. The touch of your skin. Your lips. Knowing you has made me . . . human. Whether I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my destiny is the same. It's you. I want to be with you, Liz. I love you.”
Liz stared down at him, absorbing the words she had just heard. Did he really mean everything he said? Looking into his eyes, she knew the answer was yes. In wonder, her answering words came straight from her heart.
“I love you.”
She leaned close and their lips touched, their hands caressing the face of the other, both of them needing the reassurance that they were alive, and together. She felt his body shudder and she wasn’t sure if it was from chills caused by his wet clothes, or from remembering the torture he’d endured.
“Max,” she held him tightly with his head cradled under her chin. “You feel so cold. We need to get you warm.” She looked around the van for something, anything, that she could use and she spied a blanket in the corner. She retrieved it quickly and spread it around his shoulders but it wasn’t enough. His eyes looked so miserable and his lips had a bluish tint and all she could think of from the first aid class she had taken was body heat could stave off hypothermia.
“Max,” she said, peeling off her wet jacket and draping it over an old rickety chair, hoping it would dry by morning. “You need to get those wet things off before you go into shock. You can’t heal yourself, not in the condition you’re in. You need to . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked around for another way and realizing they had no options, she let the scientific side of her brain takeover. She reached for his shirt and his eyes grew wide as she began to pull it up and over his head.
“Liz . . .?” Max asked in a small voice, watching her as she methodically removed his shirt and looked for a place to put it so that it would dry. She found a box to drape it over and then his eyes grew even wider when she removed her own top and placed it next to his.
“Body heat, Max,” she said efficiently when she turned back to look at him. “We’re in the desert. It’s going to get cold tonight and if we stay in these wet things, we’re going to be in trouble. Especially you, as weak as you are right now. If we huddle together, under the dry blanket, our body heat should keep us warm.” She returned to him and knelt in front of him, noticing the way he was trying not to stare at her chest and then flushing in embarrassment when he saw that she saw what he was staring at. Cupping his cheeks with her hands she smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t take advantage of you.”
He gave her a self-conscious smile in return and her hand dropped to the button on the front of his khaki pants. She noticed how he swallowed hard, and as her fingers began to lower the zipper he noticed how she swallowed hard too.
“I’ll do that,” Max said hastily, having finally found his voice. He reached for the zipper and her hands fell away, turning her attention to his feet. She untied his shoes and slipped first one off and then the other, turning them upside down and watching a stream of water fall to the floor from each one. Shaking her head she set his shoes aside and then pulled off his socks, wringing the moisture out of them before laying them out to dry. Max lifted his hips and lowered his pants and then sat back down while Liz pulled them free.
He was clothed in only a pair of scrub pants now and Liz could see that they were also wet. “That has to come off too,” she pointed at the scrubs while rising to her feet. He looked down, remembering how earlier he had just slipped his pants on over the scrubs when he was in the car with Liz after escaping from the White Room. There hadn’t been time to change properly.
His attention returned to Liz, watching her search for a place to hang his pants to dry, and then the breath caught in his throat when he heard the sound of her own zipper lowering. His eyes were glued to her as she wiggled free, sliding them down her hips and slender legs until they pooled on the floor. She hung them next to his, side by side on hooks on the van wall, and the sight of her walking around in only her panties and bra burned into his brain. His gaze dropped to the floor when she turned around and the transparency of the material became apparent, and then she was kneeling in front of him once more, with one hand on his thigh.
A look of anguish spread across her face and her fingers hovered over his chest, just above a long and blood encrusted incision mark. “Oh God, Max. How could they do this to you? Dear God, are they monsters?”
“Yes,” came his choked one word reply. She looked up into his eyes, eyes that showed the horror that he had been through, and her heart cried for him.
A shiver wracked his body and Liz reminded him the wet scrubs had to go. She hooked her fingers in the waistband and said, “Lift up. I’ll help you.”
“No,” he said hastily and covered her hands with his. Shaking his head he drew her hands away. “I . . . they . . . can’t . . . there’s nothing underneath,” he finally admitted.
“Oh,” Liz said, slowly taking that in. She forced her scientific mindset to the front again and insisted, “It doesn’t matter. The pants have to come off. They’re soaking wet. Here,” she reached for the edge of the blanket. “Cover yourself with this and then take ‘em off.”
Max looked at her, embarrassed and uncomfortable and miserable and in pain, and yes, he couldn’t help it, looking at her wearing nothing but her underwear, he was a little bit aroused too. She was standing there in front of him in wet undergarments that had turned transparent, and she was telling him to take off his pants. If only this had happened under different circumstances.
She pulled the blanket over his lap and he did as he was told, removing the scrub pants and letting her take them from him. She crossed the van to find a place to drape them to dry and when she turned around she surveyed the old threadbare couch he was sitting on.
“Lay down and close your eyes, Max,” she instructed and after a short hesitation he did as she asked.
Liz hesitated for just a moment and then she saw another shudder course through his body and she quickly reacted. She removed her wet bra and panties, set them out to dry, and crossed back to him in quick strides, sliding under the blanket and pressing up against him. His teeth were chattering and she drew his head to her upper chest, wrapping her arms around his back and entwining her legs with his, trying to use her body heat to keep him warm. Her hand rubbed swiftly up and down his arms and then over his back and then his shoulders to create friction to warm his skin even more. Under her hands, she could sense how his body was filled with tension, and his muscles quivered skittishly as she touched him.
“It’s going to be all right, Max. We’re going to be all right,” she spoke soothingly to him, trying to chase away the terrors he’d been subjected to.
Max lay with his head against her chest, hearing the rapid beating of her heart, knowing his was racing just as fast. Tremors were shaking his body and it wasn’t just because he was cold. He’d been subjected to horrendous torture by Pierce, torture that the man had seemed to enjoy inflicting. The evidence was in the wound running down his chest where they had started to flay him open alive. It was inhuman what they had done to him.
He shuddered again and Liz pressed her body closer to his. “Shhhhhh,” she whispered soothingly. “Shhhhh. It’s over now. We’re safe.” Her hand was in constant motion, rubbing over his skin, stroking through his hair, brushing across his cheek.
He seemed to quiet a little and then she felt his breath on her chest as his pain wracked voice said, “It’s not over Liz. Pierce . . . he knows what I am. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants. And he wants . . . me.”
“We’ll figure out a way out of this, Max. We just need time, to think. When we meet up with the others, we’ll come up with something. Max,” she said, clutching him tightly to her. “If we have to, we’ll leave. We’ll run, however far away we have to go. I won’t let them get you, Max. I won’t.”
Max stilled in her arms and then he slowly raised his head. In the dim moonlight coming in through the window he looked into her eyes and asked, “You’d do that Liz? You’d come with me?”
Liz stared at him and wondered how he could even ask. “Of course I’d come with you, Max. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”
A range of emotions swept through him, relief and joy that she’d be willing to do that for him, and grief and sorrow that because of him she might have to, but the overriding emotion was love. His deep abiding love for her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, and that’s when he became fully conscious of the fact that they were both naked. As in no clothes on. Not a stitch.
Her breasts were pressing into his chest, her soft belly flush with his hard stomach, and his body’s reaction was swift. His cock swelled despite his weakened physical condition and pressed hard into her stomach. Her eyes widened in surprise and Max wasn’t sure what he should do. She said they were supposed to stay close together to keep warm, but he didn’t think she meant this close. Finally, feeling shame for not being able to control his body, he tried to swallow past his dry throat and said, “Sorry, I . . .”
“S’okay,” she said when she finally found her voice. “Ummm . . . I . . . I don’t know if that’s good or bad Max,” Liz tried to make light of his condition, to put him at ease. “To prevent shock, you’re suppose to keep the blood around your vital organs like your brain and your heart, not your . . .”
Her voice trailed off and she was thankful that he couldn’t see her pink cheeks in the meager light.
“Well,” Max tried to match her light tone. “I . . . I guess that depends on . . . which organs you consider vital.” Seeing the surprised look on her face, he hastily added, “Sorry. Not a good time to joke.”
Her pink cheeks took on a red glow and her eyes dropped from his. His lower lip twitched nervously, but she had nothing to fear from him. He knew he wasn’t capable of any physical activity, no matter how much he wanted to. When Max tried to shift away from her, her hand inadvertently brushed across the wound on his chest and she saw the pain flare in his eyes. He turned onto his back and as he did, his body shook again with another bone jarring shudder.
“Turn over Max,” Liz told him and there was no room for disagreement in her tone. “Turn your back toward me and curl up.” He silently turned away from her and he drew his legs up toward his chest. Liz scooted close to him, plastering her front to his back, making sure the blanket was tucked securely around them. He folded his arms in front of his chest and his legs pulled up in a fetal like position. Liz wrapped her arms around him and her body spooned against him, trying to use her heat to keep him warm.
She felt his hand close over hers, squeezing it like he was holding on to her for dear life, and then he drew it up to his lips where he kissed her fingertips gently. He trembled again and she could hear the ragged way he pulled air into his lungs. He quieted and then a minute later another shudder coursed through his body.
“Shhhhhh,” Liz tried to calm him. “Shhhhh. Go to sleep now. I’ll take care of you.”
Max closed his eyes, wondering how in the world he was suppose to sleep when he could feel her naked breasts against his back, her hip bones against his butt, her naked thigh draped over his leg. It was impossible for him to sleep, but her body was warm, and her voice did and so comforting, and his eyelids were so very, very heavy . . .
She felt his tremors begin to lessen and it wasn’t long before his deathlike grip on her hand began to relax. His breathing turned into the rhythmic sound that indicated sleep and Liz breathed out a sigh of relief. What he needed most right now was undisturbed rest, and she was going to watch over him and make sure he got it.
And here are the links to a few of my other stories:
Repost in progress:
A Special Kind of Love
Completed fics:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Echoes of Tomorrow
