Tuesday 2:20 AM Liz Parker’s room.
Liz Parker looked at the clock in frustration.
She had been in her bed for almost 12 hours and thought that she might have gotten at most two hours sleep. Her father had been in twice during that time, and her mother at least three times. They had made a nest of pillows in her bed to support her, but any serious movement seemed to cause her broken rib ends to grind together. Lying perfectly still didn’t work either. She’d get spasms in the left side of her chest even without trying to move that would force her to move, which would only make the pain worse. She was still tired, still hurting, and getting more and more frustrated.
Twice she had managed to get short naps, but each time the face of Garber had appeared in her dreams, and she had awakened with a start, sending her ribs into additional spasms of pain. She remembered him pulling her away from where she was sitting cradling Max’s head in her lap, kicking her in the ribs when she broke away and tried to crawl back. She remembered Garber smashing his fist into her face, and dragging her to the floor where he held both her wrists in one hand while he tore at her sweater, his nails raking across her chest as he tore her dress and bra away. She remembered the smell of his breath as he squeezed her breast cruelly, waiting to savor her terror at the pain he could cause her. She remembered herself struggling in his grasp, freeing one hand to rake it across his face and eyes, desperately trying to get away. She felt her terror at what she knew was coming and heard screaming that only later did she realize came from her. The fear suddenly consumed her…………
She awoke with a start, causing her rib fractures to grate painfully against one another yet again. She was shaking from the terror of the dream, the attack coming back vividly in her mind.
She sobbed several times, unable to control her emotions, the pain from her ribs flaring with each sob. She looked around her own dimly lit bedroom, seeking the solace of familiar things, and trying to tell herself that it was OK, that she and Max had survived and that Garber and McMillan were dead. But still she could not quiet the terror caused by the dream.
The Vault (M/L, Mature) (COMPLETE)
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
And then it was there. The whisper of a feeling calmed her mind. Max was near. She could visualize him walking in the alley beside the Crashdown, almost tell which rung he was climbing as he ascended the fire escape to her deck. She looked at her window and waited, knowing even before his face appeared that he was there.
Max felt the presence of Liz as he stepped across the deck. Looking in her window, he immediately met her waiting eyes. She was lying in her bed surrounded by pillows. In the dim light form her night light, he saw her smile, her face disfigured by a mottled purple bruise on her left cheek. He pulled at the window and when it resisted his hand went over the latch and with a soft glow it unlocked. He slipped quickly and quietly inside.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “My folks were given this stupid head trauma sheet, and have been checking on me hourly for the first 12 hours. This is the first I’ve had time enough to get here.”
Liz smiled and said, “I understand. I think my Mom has been in here every 2 hours or so since I went to bed, and my Dad checked a couple of times too. They’ve been so sweet, so attentive. I can’t convince them that I’m really OK.”
“I can understand their concern,” said Max. “You look like there was quite a fight, and you lost.”
“Considering the time in that vault that I spent nursing you back to health, Mr. Evans, I’d have thought you’d be more appreciative of me,” Liz replied with a grin.
“Oh, believe me I appreciate you. I just thought you’d like to actually get some sleep, rather than just tossing and turning with your injuries.”
“We already discussed this Max, I need to heal NORMALLY from my injuries, or people will be suspicious.”
“The agreement I seem to recall, is that once the x-rays and photos were taken for evidence, I could at least heal the stuff that wouldn’t show, so you might be able to take a deep breath sometime this month.”
“I have to admit that would be nice,” said Liz looking at him with a smile. “So what do we do first?”
“This will be sort of like when I healed you at the Crashdown, but not as involved. I’ll have to touch you over your rib fractures and make a connection.”
Liz pulled down the covers as Max moved toward her side. He noticed she was wearing boxers and a pajama top.
Max knew instantly, that he had given no real thought to what he was about to do.
When he had healed her bullet wound at the Crashdown two months previously, it had been almost automatic. They had been LAB PARTNERS twice, once in seventh grade, again now as sophomores. Although he had loved her since the third grade and she had confessed during their time in the vault that she had developed a crush on him over the entrails of a frog during seventh grade, neither had ever acted on their feelings, and when the bullet had hit her in the Crashdown it had just been his friend and lab partner Liz who was shot, yeah, he loved her, but he had never thought he could ever act upon that love, and certainly never thought it could be reciprocated. The secret kept him from ever becoming close to his classmates, and in his heart, he had believed that the facts of his secret would certainly keep any girl from ever becoming close to him. He was, as he had told Liz, different.
His actions in saving her had changed many things. After her initial surprise, Liz had been remarkably accepting of his different-ness, more than he would have ever believed. And yet, he still hadn’t believed that they could ever have a real relationship, and he had told her that in words that had hurt her, that had driven her away from him. And yet she had not stopped caring for him, or he for her, even though both tried. And the weekend at the bank had changed everything. Bizarre even by alien standards, both of them had almost died. He could not rid himself of the feeling that he WOULD have died, had not Liz called him back from where his head injury was taking him, and while he didn’t fully understand yet what had occurred it had formed a bond between them that was more than simple friendship.
It was a love that neither could any longer deny, sealed with long talks, shared dreams, and tender caresses and kisses, the latter clearly restrained by broken ribs, facial fractures, and the residue of his concussion.
When he had told her that he would come to heal her injuries, as soon as he could, once the forensic evidence had been gathered, he was thinking in alien terms, not human terms. Healing was what he did. It was done almost without thought, when needed. When he’d healed her in the Crashdown it had been that way, made different only by the frantic rush to contain the secret of his ancestry, once it became clear that he was “not of this earth”.
And he’d approached this night in much the same way, from the alien perspective. “How do I avoid discovery? What’s the soonest I can do this?
But as he looked at Liz he had an overwhelming realization that things were profoundly different now. He had, prior to this weekend, kissed a girl who was NOT a family member precisely three times. Once was in the fifth grade when he’d joined a spin-the-bottle game at Isabel’s suggestion in ignorance of the rules. That was Isabel’s idea of a joke. That probably shouldn’t count. The other two times, both had been Liz, after he’d healed her.
To say he was inexperienced in the art and science of boy-girl relationships was a major understatement. But Liz after this past weekend was undeniably his girlfriend. He was, at least according to the state department of social services, not yet seventeen.
But he realized suddenly that he had just climbed out his window at two o’clock in the morning, come over to his sixteen year-old girlfriend’s house, climbed up a fire escape to get to her room, unlocked and entered her window, and now was preparing to go put his hands on her body as she lay on her bed in her pajamas.
He was not sure which frightened him more, actually touching her, or that he’d been so incredibly stupid that he didn’t realize what the next 15 minutes would involve in HUMAN rather than alien terms. ‘Max,’ he thought to himself, ‘You are so in over your head right now.’
Max felt the presence of Liz as he stepped across the deck. Looking in her window, he immediately met her waiting eyes. She was lying in her bed surrounded by pillows. In the dim light form her night light, he saw her smile, her face disfigured by a mottled purple bruise on her left cheek. He pulled at the window and when it resisted his hand went over the latch and with a soft glow it unlocked. He slipped quickly and quietly inside.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “My folks were given this stupid head trauma sheet, and have been checking on me hourly for the first 12 hours. This is the first I’ve had time enough to get here.”
Liz smiled and said, “I understand. I think my Mom has been in here every 2 hours or so since I went to bed, and my Dad checked a couple of times too. They’ve been so sweet, so attentive. I can’t convince them that I’m really OK.”
“I can understand their concern,” said Max. “You look like there was quite a fight, and you lost.”
“Considering the time in that vault that I spent nursing you back to health, Mr. Evans, I’d have thought you’d be more appreciative of me,” Liz replied with a grin.
“Oh, believe me I appreciate you. I just thought you’d like to actually get some sleep, rather than just tossing and turning with your injuries.”
“We already discussed this Max, I need to heal NORMALLY from my injuries, or people will be suspicious.”
“The agreement I seem to recall, is that once the x-rays and photos were taken for evidence, I could at least heal the stuff that wouldn’t show, so you might be able to take a deep breath sometime this month.”
“I have to admit that would be nice,” said Liz looking at him with a smile. “So what do we do first?”
“This will be sort of like when I healed you at the Crashdown, but not as involved. I’ll have to touch you over your rib fractures and make a connection.”
Liz pulled down the covers as Max moved toward her side. He noticed she was wearing boxers and a pajama top.
Max knew instantly, that he had given no real thought to what he was about to do.
When he had healed her bullet wound at the Crashdown two months previously, it had been almost automatic. They had been LAB PARTNERS twice, once in seventh grade, again now as sophomores. Although he had loved her since the third grade and she had confessed during their time in the vault that she had developed a crush on him over the entrails of a frog during seventh grade, neither had ever acted on their feelings, and when the bullet had hit her in the Crashdown it had just been his friend and lab partner Liz who was shot, yeah, he loved her, but he had never thought he could ever act upon that love, and certainly never thought it could be reciprocated. The secret kept him from ever becoming close to his classmates, and in his heart, he had believed that the facts of his secret would certainly keep any girl from ever becoming close to him. He was, as he had told Liz, different.
His actions in saving her had changed many things. After her initial surprise, Liz had been remarkably accepting of his different-ness, more than he would have ever believed. And yet, he still hadn’t believed that they could ever have a real relationship, and he had told her that in words that had hurt her, that had driven her away from him. And yet she had not stopped caring for him, or he for her, even though both tried. And the weekend at the bank had changed everything. Bizarre even by alien standards, both of them had almost died. He could not rid himself of the feeling that he WOULD have died, had not Liz called him back from where his head injury was taking him, and while he didn’t fully understand yet what had occurred it had formed a bond between them that was more than simple friendship.
It was a love that neither could any longer deny, sealed with long talks, shared dreams, and tender caresses and kisses, the latter clearly restrained by broken ribs, facial fractures, and the residue of his concussion.
When he had told her that he would come to heal her injuries, as soon as he could, once the forensic evidence had been gathered, he was thinking in alien terms, not human terms. Healing was what he did. It was done almost without thought, when needed. When he’d healed her in the Crashdown it had been that way, made different only by the frantic rush to contain the secret of his ancestry, once it became clear that he was “not of this earth”.
And he’d approached this night in much the same way, from the alien perspective. “How do I avoid discovery? What’s the soonest I can do this?
But as he looked at Liz he had an overwhelming realization that things were profoundly different now. He had, prior to this weekend, kissed a girl who was NOT a family member precisely three times. Once was in the fifth grade when he’d joined a spin-the-bottle game at Isabel’s suggestion in ignorance of the rules. That was Isabel’s idea of a joke. That probably shouldn’t count. The other two times, both had been Liz, after he’d healed her.
To say he was inexperienced in the art and science of boy-girl relationships was a major understatement. But Liz after this past weekend was undeniably his girlfriend. He was, at least according to the state department of social services, not yet seventeen.
But he realized suddenly that he had just climbed out his window at two o’clock in the morning, come over to his sixteen year-old girlfriend’s house, climbed up a fire escape to get to her room, unlocked and entered her window, and now was preparing to go put his hands on her body as she lay on her bed in her pajamas.
He was not sure which frightened him more, actually touching her, or that he’d been so incredibly stupid that he didn’t realize what the next 15 minutes would involve in HUMAN rather than alien terms. ‘Max,’ he thought to himself, ‘You are so in over your head right now.’
As he approached Liz, Max hesitated as she raised her pajama top on the left to expose her lower ribs. ‘You can do this, Max,’ he told himself. He forced his mind to think in very mechanical terms, he was a healing machine, he fixed broken parts, he touched people for that purpose, and no other. He formed connections for that purpose, and for no other.
He reached out his hand toward Liz and was shocked when the connection formed before he even touched her. He felt the connection deepen as he touched her skin, but he locked his mind on to the mechanics of her injuries, his hand going to the fracture at her 9th rib, glowing briefly as the rib healed, and the bruising cleared from the skin above them. He mechanically moved his hand on to the next rib, carefully trying not to think of the skin he was touching.
As Max approached, Liz felt the connection form even before they touched. It amazed her that their minds could fuse so quickly, as if the weekend spent together had somehow changed them both, tuned them to one another.
She felt the warmth of Max’s hand, and an instant relief of both the sharp pain and nagging ache beneath it. He moved higher, feeling her pain through the connection, knowing the precise spot to place the healing warmth. But she noticed in the connection that his thoughts were tightly guarded, that he neither sought her thoughts nor allowed her to see his. The connection was stronger than ever between them, but it was as if they had suddenly become strangers, with Max unwilling to share his emotions, to share his friendship, to share his feelings of love for her.
She felt somehow hurt by Max’s actions. What, she thought, could have turned him against her, lost her the closeness he’d shared willingly in the vault? Fighting back tears, she guarded her own thoughts, allowing him to feel her areas of pain, but walling off her own feelings from him.
Max tried not to think of what he was doing as his hand went from rib to rib, following the trail of pain. He blocked from her his fear that she would be repelled if she felt the feelings her closeness, her sensuality, had caused in his body when he had seen her in her bed. He closed his eyes to deny himself the distraction of her beauty, squeezing from his mind any thought of emotion or physical attraction. Mechanically he followed the pain, moving his hand to the next area of damage.
Suddenly, he felt terror through the connection and opened his eyes to see Liz’s face a mask of shame and hatred. In disbelief, he saw his own hand on her left breast. He jumped back, breaking the connection. In shame and horror, he looked at her face once more, saying softly “Oh I’m so sorry,” and ran towards the window.
Liz had closed her eyes at the relief as the pain from the last rib fracture ceased. She was caught by surprise as Max touched her breast and the touch triggered within her a flash from her dream, the face of Garber, his cruelty, the inhumanity in his eyes as he had abused her body. Her mind recoiled in panic from the image.
The connection broke abruptly and her eyes opened to see Max pull away from her his face a mask of terror and shame. He turned and ran for the window, his lips whispering unheard words.
Max was running across the roof, nearly to the ladder when the connection lashed out at him, almost like a physical blow. ‘Stop Max!’ came Liz’s thoughts. ‘I need you’ ‘I need you here with me’ ‘I need you now’.
‘But I just hurt you….., I’d better leave,’ Max sent his thoughts into the connection.
‘Don’t leave Max’ ‘Come back and talk.’
He reached out his hand toward Liz and was shocked when the connection formed before he even touched her. He felt the connection deepen as he touched her skin, but he locked his mind on to the mechanics of her injuries, his hand going to the fracture at her 9th rib, glowing briefly as the rib healed, and the bruising cleared from the skin above them. He mechanically moved his hand on to the next rib, carefully trying not to think of the skin he was touching.
As Max approached, Liz felt the connection form even before they touched. It amazed her that their minds could fuse so quickly, as if the weekend spent together had somehow changed them both, tuned them to one another.
She felt the warmth of Max’s hand, and an instant relief of both the sharp pain and nagging ache beneath it. He moved higher, feeling her pain through the connection, knowing the precise spot to place the healing warmth. But she noticed in the connection that his thoughts were tightly guarded, that he neither sought her thoughts nor allowed her to see his. The connection was stronger than ever between them, but it was as if they had suddenly become strangers, with Max unwilling to share his emotions, to share his friendship, to share his feelings of love for her.
She felt somehow hurt by Max’s actions. What, she thought, could have turned him against her, lost her the closeness he’d shared willingly in the vault? Fighting back tears, she guarded her own thoughts, allowing him to feel her areas of pain, but walling off her own feelings from him.
Max tried not to think of what he was doing as his hand went from rib to rib, following the trail of pain. He blocked from her his fear that she would be repelled if she felt the feelings her closeness, her sensuality, had caused in his body when he had seen her in her bed. He closed his eyes to deny himself the distraction of her beauty, squeezing from his mind any thought of emotion or physical attraction. Mechanically he followed the pain, moving his hand to the next area of damage.
Suddenly, he felt terror through the connection and opened his eyes to see Liz’s face a mask of shame and hatred. In disbelief, he saw his own hand on her left breast. He jumped back, breaking the connection. In shame and horror, he looked at her face once more, saying softly “Oh I’m so sorry,” and ran towards the window.
Liz had closed her eyes at the relief as the pain from the last rib fracture ceased. She was caught by surprise as Max touched her breast and the touch triggered within her a flash from her dream, the face of Garber, his cruelty, the inhumanity in his eyes as he had abused her body. Her mind recoiled in panic from the image.
The connection broke abruptly and her eyes opened to see Max pull away from her his face a mask of terror and shame. He turned and ran for the window, his lips whispering unheard words.
Max was running across the roof, nearly to the ladder when the connection lashed out at him, almost like a physical blow. ‘Stop Max!’ came Liz’s thoughts. ‘I need you’ ‘I need you here with me’ ‘I need you now’.
‘But I just hurt you….., I’d better leave,’ Max sent his thoughts into the connection.
‘Don’t leave Max’ ‘Come back and talk.’
Liz was standing at the window as Max turned. She stepped back, pleading with her eyes for him to come back into the room. ‘Don’t hide from me Max,’ she thought through the connection. He stepped inside and she reached up to touch his face, and the connection flared even brighter at her touch. Max opened his mind to her, and felt the touch of her mind against his, triggering flashes of *Max seeing her lying on her bed, feeling that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, feeling his body long for her, his hands thirst to touch her, his arms ache to hold her* *Max’s fear that she would be repelled by his feelings, that his physical desire for her would feel to her a violation through the connection, no better than the assault she suffered in the vault* *Max’s terror and shame when he realized the reaction his touch had caused in her* *Max blocking his thoughts, denying her access to his sexual feelings for her. Denying to his own mind the reality of their closeness, healing her mechanically without thought, to screen from her his feelings* *Max’s terror that he had hurt her, insulted her, demeaned her by his touch* *Max’s grief as he thought she had feared him, despised him* *Max’s confusion that she had made a connection with him, across the roof, with no physical contact*
Max stood still, the tears running down his eyes, and looked at Liz. She looked up, shook her head sadly, and then embraced him, pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him deeply. ‘You are mine Max, my protector, my friend, my love’ ‘You would never hurt me’
Flashes came through the connection *the assault by Garber* *Liz holding Max’s head in her lap, stroking his hair with her right hand, her left arm dangling broken at her side* *Her talk with the stress counselor telling her she would have flashbacks of her assault, perhaps for years* *Her dreams of Garber that night, before Max’s arrival* *Fantasies she had of Max since the seventh grade, of intimate moments that had never really occurred, except in her dreams* *Her pain when he locked her out through their connection, denying her access to his thoughts*
Max looked at her in disbelief.
“We are both such fools, Max,” she said aloud. He felt her love pour out for him through the connection, and he saw her intention even before she stepped back and took his right hand in hers, looking up into his eyes, looking into his soul.
“Heal me, Max”, she whispered as she moved his hand to her waist, and raised it again under her T-shirt, past the once broken ribs, to press his hand with hers against the bruises and scratches left from Garber’s assault on her breast. His mouth opened in disbelief, and the blood drained from his face, his heart beating wildly. Within the connection Liz felt his feelings, his uncertainty, and she radiated back at him her trust, her love, her desire mirroring his own. She locked her eyes on his for long seconds as ripples of emotion went through Max’s mind. His palm glowed briefly and they felt together the smoothness where the deep scratches had been, the relief of the pain from the cruel bruises Garber had given her. They stared in one another’s eyes for a moment, and shared a tender kiss.
Finally Liz pulled back slightly. Max stared into her eyes in awe, feeling her trust, feeling her love. With a coquettish smile, she looked up at Max. “Right now, Mr. Max Evans, my parents agree with me that you are one of the finest people on this planet. I think, however, that if they come in to check on me and find me standing here at 3 AM in my pajamas with your hand,” turning her eyes down meaningfully towards her T-shirt, “around my breast, their goodwill toward you might evaporate pretty quickly. So if you are finished there, we might want to put this off until a more convenient time”
Max pulled his right hand back as if he’d been burned, looking at it in disbelief, as if he’d never seen it before.
Tuesday 3:30AM Max Evan’s bedroom
Max stared at the ceiling, shocked, dazed, amazed, astounded by the events of the night. He stared at the ceiling thinking of what had happened only an hour before. At 4:00 his father came in to check on him and he quickly said “You’re holding up four fingers, Dad. It’s 4:AM Tuesday morning, I’m in Roswell New Mexico. Really, I’m OK. You and Mom sleep in, I can honestly say that I’ve never felt better in my entire life than I do right now.” His father smiled at him, put his hand on Max’s shoulder, and went back to bed. Max quickly drifted off, dreaming of Liz. In his dream, she was asleep in her room and was dreaming of him. In the dream the two of them were back in the vault, lying beside one another on the floor of the talking of their hopes, their love, and their future together. In the dream, they were drifting off to sleep, her head on his shoulder. Her dream thoughts came suddenly into his mind ‘Goodnight Max.’ ‘I love you.’
4:10 AM Liz Parker’s bedroom
Liz slept peacefully, her lips in a gentle smile. Her cheek was still bruised and discolored, but it would fade quickly with the underlying fracture gone, a last gift from Max as he touched her face, kissed her gently and climbed down the ladder.
She was dreaming of Max. In the dream the two of them were back in the vault, lying beside one another talking of their hopes, their love, and their future together. In the dream, they were drifting off to sleep, her head on his shoulder. His dream thoughts came suddenly into her mind ‘Goodnight Liz.’ ‘I love you’
Max stood still, the tears running down his eyes, and looked at Liz. She looked up, shook her head sadly, and then embraced him, pulling his mouth to hers and kissing him deeply. ‘You are mine Max, my protector, my friend, my love’ ‘You would never hurt me’
Flashes came through the connection *the assault by Garber* *Liz holding Max’s head in her lap, stroking his hair with her right hand, her left arm dangling broken at her side* *Her talk with the stress counselor telling her she would have flashbacks of her assault, perhaps for years* *Her dreams of Garber that night, before Max’s arrival* *Fantasies she had of Max since the seventh grade, of intimate moments that had never really occurred, except in her dreams* *Her pain when he locked her out through their connection, denying her access to his thoughts*
Max looked at her in disbelief.
“We are both such fools, Max,” she said aloud. He felt her love pour out for him through the connection, and he saw her intention even before she stepped back and took his right hand in hers, looking up into his eyes, looking into his soul.
“Heal me, Max”, she whispered as she moved his hand to her waist, and raised it again under her T-shirt, past the once broken ribs, to press his hand with hers against the bruises and scratches left from Garber’s assault on her breast. His mouth opened in disbelief, and the blood drained from his face, his heart beating wildly. Within the connection Liz felt his feelings, his uncertainty, and she radiated back at him her trust, her love, her desire mirroring his own. She locked her eyes on his for long seconds as ripples of emotion went through Max’s mind. His palm glowed briefly and they felt together the smoothness where the deep scratches had been, the relief of the pain from the cruel bruises Garber had given her. They stared in one another’s eyes for a moment, and shared a tender kiss.
Finally Liz pulled back slightly. Max stared into her eyes in awe, feeling her trust, feeling her love. With a coquettish smile, she looked up at Max. “Right now, Mr. Max Evans, my parents agree with me that you are one of the finest people on this planet. I think, however, that if they come in to check on me and find me standing here at 3 AM in my pajamas with your hand,” turning her eyes down meaningfully towards her T-shirt, “around my breast, their goodwill toward you might evaporate pretty quickly. So if you are finished there, we might want to put this off until a more convenient time”
Max pulled his right hand back as if he’d been burned, looking at it in disbelief, as if he’d never seen it before.
Tuesday 3:30AM Max Evan’s bedroom
Max stared at the ceiling, shocked, dazed, amazed, astounded by the events of the night. He stared at the ceiling thinking of what had happened only an hour before. At 4:00 his father came in to check on him and he quickly said “You’re holding up four fingers, Dad. It’s 4:AM Tuesday morning, I’m in Roswell New Mexico. Really, I’m OK. You and Mom sleep in, I can honestly say that I’ve never felt better in my entire life than I do right now.” His father smiled at him, put his hand on Max’s shoulder, and went back to bed. Max quickly drifted off, dreaming of Liz. In his dream, she was asleep in her room and was dreaming of him. In the dream the two of them were back in the vault, lying beside one another on the floor of the talking of their hopes, their love, and their future together. In the dream, they were drifting off to sleep, her head on his shoulder. Her dream thoughts came suddenly into his mind ‘Goodnight Max.’ ‘I love you.’
4:10 AM Liz Parker’s bedroom
Liz slept peacefully, her lips in a gentle smile. Her cheek was still bruised and discolored, but it would fade quickly with the underlying fracture gone, a last gift from Max as he touched her face, kissed her gently and climbed down the ladder.
She was dreaming of Max. In the dream the two of them were back in the vault, lying beside one another talking of their hopes, their love, and their future together. In the dream, they were drifting off to sleep, her head on his shoulder. His dream thoughts came suddenly into her mind ‘Goodnight Liz.’ ‘I love you’
7:30 AM The Parker residence.
Nancy Parker walked quietly toward Liz’s room. Nancy had slept fitfully, grateful even for that after the preceding two nights when she hadn’t been able to sleep at all.
She felt so happy to have her baby back, but her heart had nearly broken seeing her tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable when she had checked her every few hours throughout the night. She had heard her talking, no….screaming, in her dreams a couple of times, and rushed to her room, arriving to see her open eyed and trembling, holding her ribs and crying.
The sexual assault counselor had talked to her for almost an hour while Liz had been photographed and examined in the ER. She knew from what the counselor had said that such nightmares were to be expected, but her heart still broke that this had happened to her little girl. She’d looked in the last time two hours ago, and Liz seemed to at last be at some kind of peace with her dreams. She’d almost seemed to be smiling then, and certainly was resting better. But there was no question Liz had been badly traumatized, her mother decided. She wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to kind of keep her away from the Evans boy, since his presence would certainly remind her of that terrifying weekend.
She and Jeff had kind of bonded with Diane and Philip Evans over the weekend, going from shared despair to shared relief and joy, but she scarcely knew their son. He knew he and Liz were schoolmates, casual friends, but not particularly close, and that he apparently was somewhat of an introvert. And while she would forever be grateful for what he did to rescue Liz, the thought of the intense young man bludgeoning two men to death with her daughter looking on horrified her terribly, all the while making her feel guilty for being horrified, knowing what would otherwise most certainly have happened to Liz.
The world was at times a terrifying and confusing place. That had been brought home to her with real certainty over the last three days. Right now her daughter needed shelter, needed protection. Her own feelings about Max were so strangely ambivalent, so complex, how much more emotional baggage must there be for her daughter, who’d endured the terror with him first hand. It’d probably be best to just not get together with the Evans’ for awhile, to let time pass, to let life be normal for Liz again, before having her see someone whose very presence would trigger her recall of her trauma.
Liz awakened from a dreamy sleep and stretched luxuriously. ‘Whoa, gotta be careful with that,’ she thought to herself. ‘I’m the girl who is supposed to have four broken ribs.’ She saw her face in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. ‘I don’t believe him.’ They’d agreed, she thought, that the bruising on her face needed to go away normally, and she’d consented to him mending the facial fracture mostly because he’d been so eager to do it, not that it caused her the sort of pain the ribs had. But already the swelling was gone, and the bruising was noticeably less than it had been the night before.
She went to her dresser and found it, a compact of blusher, and applied it heavily to disguise the lack of bruising, shaking her head softly. ‘Max, Max, ….,’ she thought, happily. ‘What am I going to do with you…..?’
As Nancy entered her daughter’s room, her heart leaped. Liz was at her dresser, applying heavy coats of blusher to conceal her battered face. Nancy winced as Liz brought the blusher over the area of her broken cheekbone. She crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Oh, Hi Mom.” Liz said, looking up guiltily.
“Liz, it really doesn’t look bad, and it’ll get better. The doctor says there really shouldn’t be any permanent damage at all!”
Liz’s eyes flickered uneasily. “Yeah, I know Mom. I guess I was just kind of self-conscious, that’s all.”
Nancy’s eyes watered as she fought back her tears. She had to be strong, she had to help her daughter get through this. “You dreamed of the vault this morning, didn’t you?”
Liz nodded her head gently, thinking of the dream of her and Max lying side by side, talking, touching, kissing, ..not like the first time, not limited in her dream by the injuries she no longer had. She looked at her mother with a little embarrassment, a blush rising to her cheeks rivaling that of the blusher in her hands. Looking up at her mother she spoke. “Yeah mom, how did you know?”
Nancy grabbed her daughter’s hands, wanting to hug her, but conscious of her rib fractures. She looked deep into her daughter’s eyes and promised, “Lizzie, you have to believe me. Those sorts of horrible thoughts will fade in time. You won’t have them forever.”
As Nancy kneeled and gently kissed her unbruised cheek, Liz looked past her at the clock in bewildered amusement and thought to herself, ‘It’s not even 8 AM and already two of the people I care most about in the whole world have TOTALLY misread me. It’s going to be an interesting day.’
After her mother left, she chose her clothes for the day, put on her robe, and went to take her shower. Halfway to the bathroom she stopped abruptly, then went back to her room.
Watching from the end of the hall, Nancy saw that she had gone back for the blusher. “Poor Lizzie,” she said softly to herself, wishing she could do something more to ease her daughter’s torment.
Nancy Parker walked quietly toward Liz’s room. Nancy had slept fitfully, grateful even for that after the preceding two nights when she hadn’t been able to sleep at all.
She felt so happy to have her baby back, but her heart had nearly broken seeing her tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable when she had checked her every few hours throughout the night. She had heard her talking, no….screaming, in her dreams a couple of times, and rushed to her room, arriving to see her open eyed and trembling, holding her ribs and crying.
The sexual assault counselor had talked to her for almost an hour while Liz had been photographed and examined in the ER. She knew from what the counselor had said that such nightmares were to be expected, but her heart still broke that this had happened to her little girl. She’d looked in the last time two hours ago, and Liz seemed to at last be at some kind of peace with her dreams. She’d almost seemed to be smiling then, and certainly was resting better. But there was no question Liz had been badly traumatized, her mother decided. She wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to kind of keep her away from the Evans boy, since his presence would certainly remind her of that terrifying weekend.
She and Jeff had kind of bonded with Diane and Philip Evans over the weekend, going from shared despair to shared relief and joy, but she scarcely knew their son. He knew he and Liz were schoolmates, casual friends, but not particularly close, and that he apparently was somewhat of an introvert. And while she would forever be grateful for what he did to rescue Liz, the thought of the intense young man bludgeoning two men to death with her daughter looking on horrified her terribly, all the while making her feel guilty for being horrified, knowing what would otherwise most certainly have happened to Liz.
The world was at times a terrifying and confusing place. That had been brought home to her with real certainty over the last three days. Right now her daughter needed shelter, needed protection. Her own feelings about Max were so strangely ambivalent, so complex, how much more emotional baggage must there be for her daughter, who’d endured the terror with him first hand. It’d probably be best to just not get together with the Evans’ for awhile, to let time pass, to let life be normal for Liz again, before having her see someone whose very presence would trigger her recall of her trauma.
Liz awakened from a dreamy sleep and stretched luxuriously. ‘Whoa, gotta be careful with that,’ she thought to herself. ‘I’m the girl who is supposed to have four broken ribs.’ She saw her face in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. ‘I don’t believe him.’ They’d agreed, she thought, that the bruising on her face needed to go away normally, and she’d consented to him mending the facial fracture mostly because he’d been so eager to do it, not that it caused her the sort of pain the ribs had. But already the swelling was gone, and the bruising was noticeably less than it had been the night before.
She went to her dresser and found it, a compact of blusher, and applied it heavily to disguise the lack of bruising, shaking her head softly. ‘Max, Max, ….,’ she thought, happily. ‘What am I going to do with you…..?’
As Nancy entered her daughter’s room, her heart leaped. Liz was at her dresser, applying heavy coats of blusher to conceal her battered face. Nancy winced as Liz brought the blusher over the area of her broken cheekbone. She crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.
“Oh, Hi Mom.” Liz said, looking up guiltily.
“Liz, it really doesn’t look bad, and it’ll get better. The doctor says there really shouldn’t be any permanent damage at all!”
Liz’s eyes flickered uneasily. “Yeah, I know Mom. I guess I was just kind of self-conscious, that’s all.”
Nancy’s eyes watered as she fought back her tears. She had to be strong, she had to help her daughter get through this. “You dreamed of the vault this morning, didn’t you?”
Liz nodded her head gently, thinking of the dream of her and Max lying side by side, talking, touching, kissing, ..not like the first time, not limited in her dream by the injuries she no longer had. She looked at her mother with a little embarrassment, a blush rising to her cheeks rivaling that of the blusher in her hands. Looking up at her mother she spoke. “Yeah mom, how did you know?”
Nancy grabbed her daughter’s hands, wanting to hug her, but conscious of her rib fractures. She looked deep into her daughter’s eyes and promised, “Lizzie, you have to believe me. Those sorts of horrible thoughts will fade in time. You won’t have them forever.”
As Nancy kneeled and gently kissed her unbruised cheek, Liz looked past her at the clock in bewildered amusement and thought to herself, ‘It’s not even 8 AM and already two of the people I care most about in the whole world have TOTALLY misread me. It’s going to be an interesting day.’
After her mother left, she chose her clothes for the day, put on her robe, and went to take her shower. Halfway to the bathroom she stopped abruptly, then went back to her room.
Watching from the end of the hall, Nancy saw that she had gone back for the blusher. “Poor Lizzie,” she said softly to herself, wishing she could do something more to ease her daughter’s torment.
8:00 AM, the Parker residence.
Maria had called the West Roswell High sophomore class counselor to tell her that she was NOT going to come to school today, that she had a friend who needed her emotional support, and that was going to be her priority.
Before she could even get wound up the counselor had interrupted her, saying that she knew Maria and Liz were best friends, that she was sure Liz needed her company, and that she thought that was more important than Maria coming to school that day. Maria shook her head as the counselor told her to tell Liz everyone at the school was thinking about her, and wanting only for her to get better. Newspaper blackout or not, Maria realized, Roswell was a small town. Everybody knew.
She’d gone to the Parkers and been met at the door by Mrs. Parker who had hugged her, then taken her into the living room.
Mrs. Parker said how glad she was Maria had come, and that she appreciated what a great friend Maria had always been to her daughter. She’d told her about her long talk with the sexual assault counselor, the terrifying dreams that Liz had, and ended up with the story of Liz’s preoccupation with her bruised face and the blusher.
Maria had known Liz, and through Liz known her parents for almost ten years. She knew that her parents sometimes underestimated the quiet strength in her best friend. Maria knew that she could be as determined and downright stubborn as anyone, almost rivaling that Guerin kid. But Maria also knew what she herself had gone through the last three days, and the emotional toll it had taken on her. And that really didn’t compare to what Liz had gone through, the violence, the injuries, the lack of sleep, even last night, and the assault.
And the Ewww factor of being locked in a vault with two dead bodies for almost two days she thought suddenly, although on further reflection she allowed as how they were probably much nicer company dead than they had been alive.
Maria sniffed heavily and frequently on her bottle of cyprus oil as Mrs. Parker talked to her, clutching the other bottle that she’d brought for Liz. They were best friends, Maria told herself. She’d help Liz get through this.
Maria knocked on Liz’s door and waited. There was no reply. She knocked again, and, when there was still no reply, pushed the door open and went in, saying “Liz…?”
She looked quickly around the room, saw the open window, and walked quickly to it. Liz was on her roof deck, sitting in a lounge chair in the sun in the cold morning air, her knees drawn up to her chest, looking out at the desert in the distance. Maria remembered reading in a magazine once that this was a “defensive” position, in body language.
Her heart went out to her friend who she saw shiver slightly, despite her sweater. Liz looked up, when she saw Maria at the window. She smiled up at her and came back inside, Maria wincing as she saw Liz crawl through the window. She noticed the patch of way too much blusher on her bruised cheek, and grabbed both of her hands, afraid to hug her.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” she asked.
“Well I’m still way behind on my sleep so don’t be upset if I nod off while we talk, but other than that I’m doing fine Maria.”
'Poor brave Liz,' thought Maria.
“I brought you something”, said Maria, holding up the gift bag. Before she could open it Maria said, “It’s cypress aromatherapy oil…., you know, for stress….” She said, taking a quick sniff from her own bottle. “Do….., do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not sure I do right now, Maria,” said Liz. “It was really so scary…..I’ve never known anything like it, said Liz, remembering the hours she had held in her lap the head of an unconscious Max, willing him to struggle back from the brink. I don’t think anything in my life has ever terrified me so much.”
“He’s gone now Liz. He’ll never touch you again.”, said Maria, watching as her friends eyes suddenly went wide in alarm. “He’ll never hurt anyone again, he’s dead.”
Catching her breath, Liz suddenly thought to herself, ‘Well that’s three for three today, on totally different frequencies. Maybe I ought to go back to bed until the world starts to make more sense.’
Maria had called the West Roswell High sophomore class counselor to tell her that she was NOT going to come to school today, that she had a friend who needed her emotional support, and that was going to be her priority.
Before she could even get wound up the counselor had interrupted her, saying that she knew Maria and Liz were best friends, that she was sure Liz needed her company, and that she thought that was more important than Maria coming to school that day. Maria shook her head as the counselor told her to tell Liz everyone at the school was thinking about her, and wanting only for her to get better. Newspaper blackout or not, Maria realized, Roswell was a small town. Everybody knew.
She’d gone to the Parkers and been met at the door by Mrs. Parker who had hugged her, then taken her into the living room.
Mrs. Parker said how glad she was Maria had come, and that she appreciated what a great friend Maria had always been to her daughter. She’d told her about her long talk with the sexual assault counselor, the terrifying dreams that Liz had, and ended up with the story of Liz’s preoccupation with her bruised face and the blusher.
Maria had known Liz, and through Liz known her parents for almost ten years. She knew that her parents sometimes underestimated the quiet strength in her best friend. Maria knew that she could be as determined and downright stubborn as anyone, almost rivaling that Guerin kid. But Maria also knew what she herself had gone through the last three days, and the emotional toll it had taken on her. And that really didn’t compare to what Liz had gone through, the violence, the injuries, the lack of sleep, even last night, and the assault.
And the Ewww factor of being locked in a vault with two dead bodies for almost two days she thought suddenly, although on further reflection she allowed as how they were probably much nicer company dead than they had been alive.
Maria sniffed heavily and frequently on her bottle of cyprus oil as Mrs. Parker talked to her, clutching the other bottle that she’d brought for Liz. They were best friends, Maria told herself. She’d help Liz get through this.
Maria knocked on Liz’s door and waited. There was no reply. She knocked again, and, when there was still no reply, pushed the door open and went in, saying “Liz…?”
She looked quickly around the room, saw the open window, and walked quickly to it. Liz was on her roof deck, sitting in a lounge chair in the sun in the cold morning air, her knees drawn up to her chest, looking out at the desert in the distance. Maria remembered reading in a magazine once that this was a “defensive” position, in body language.
Her heart went out to her friend who she saw shiver slightly, despite her sweater. Liz looked up, when she saw Maria at the window. She smiled up at her and came back inside, Maria wincing as she saw Liz crawl through the window. She noticed the patch of way too much blusher on her bruised cheek, and grabbed both of her hands, afraid to hug her.
“How are you doing, kiddo?” she asked.
“Well I’m still way behind on my sleep so don’t be upset if I nod off while we talk, but other than that I’m doing fine Maria.”
'Poor brave Liz,' thought Maria.
“I brought you something”, said Maria, holding up the gift bag. Before she could open it Maria said, “It’s cypress aromatherapy oil…., you know, for stress….” She said, taking a quick sniff from her own bottle. “Do….., do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not sure I do right now, Maria,” said Liz. “It was really so scary…..I’ve never known anything like it, said Liz, remembering the hours she had held in her lap the head of an unconscious Max, willing him to struggle back from the brink. I don’t think anything in my life has ever terrified me so much.”
“He’s gone now Liz. He’ll never touch you again.”, said Maria, watching as her friends eyes suddenly went wide in alarm. “He’ll never hurt anyone again, he’s dead.”
Catching her breath, Liz suddenly thought to herself, ‘Well that’s three for three today, on totally different frequencies. Maybe I ought to go back to bed until the world starts to make more sense.’
The sudden fear in Liz’s face overwhelmed Maria with compassion. She kissed her on the forehead and looked at the wall behind her as she blinked back the tears. “Don’t worry Liz, someday some guy will touch you and there won’t be any memories at all of that bastard Garber. You’ll just feel love, and caring, and respect, and tenderness…..
She pulled back to look down into Liz’s eyes, her soul filled with compassion for the emotional agony her friend was going through, she looked into Liz’s battered face, and saw…..Liz blushing fiercely, a strange half-smile on her lips…..
This is ... not right came the message in Maria’s brain. This is sooo.... not right, she thought, watching her friend looking away, looking with a combination look, part deep embarrassment, part cat that swallowed the canary.
Maria’s eyes dropped to the pullover sweater her friend was wearing. Her friend whose x-rays yesterday had shown four rib fractures…..
”I so DO NOT want to hear that Czechoslovakian medical personnel make house calls!” said Maria as she pushed gently on Liz, over one of her “broken” ribs. Liz started to giggle, and continued to blush. Shaking her head with a smile, Maria said “Talk, girlfriend. I need details.”
“Maria, it was just that, well he knew that I couldn’t sleep with those rib fractures. I tossed and turned with them all the time we were in the vault. I think I kept him awake griping about them.”
“Liz, we’ve been almost like sisters since second grade. Are you going to sit there and try to tell me that you believe you annoyed Max Evans by lying beside him in a dimly lit room for 30 hours. This is Maria you’re talking to here….”
Maria was starting to enjoy this. This was definitely NOT how she’d anticipated spending the morning “comforting” her friend.
“And last night….or was it this morning…??”
“Sort of this morning.”
“Right......, was this morning business or pleasure?”
“Mariiiia!” Liz squealed, happy but embarrassed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?” she asked smiling. “And what’s with the blusher fetish? You seem to be more than capable of blushing this morning, without cosmetics?”
“He kind of fixed my cheek fracture, but he overdid it on the bruise.”
“Overdid it?”
“It’s sort of half gone, so I’m covering up the part that’s missing.”
Maria grinned broadly, thinking that this just keeps getting better and better.
“I take it from the sweater, which you might not want to wear in public for a few weeks by the way, that the ribs got the laying on of hands treatment too?”
The blushing continued and Liz gently nodded her head, unwilling to trust herself to speak.
“So did he leave any calling cards? Some little iridescent handprints, perhaps? Or possibly a small, discrete, fluorescent tattoo, “Property of Max Evans”?”
“Mariiiiaa,” squealed Liz, both girls now laughing.
“So, I guess that would be it then,?” Maria asked. As she saw Liz blush furiously, she thought to herself, 'Oh boy, here it comes…….'
“Well, just some scratches and bruises. That’s all.” Liz said as innocently as possible.
“I take it that you can hide these missing bruises without using blusher?” Maria asked rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I suppose we should all be grateful you didn’t have a yeast infection that needed fixing this morning.”
Liz squealed, “Mariiiiaaa!” and commenced to beat her friend with a pillow.
She pulled back to look down into Liz’s eyes, her soul filled with compassion for the emotional agony her friend was going through, she looked into Liz’s battered face, and saw…..Liz blushing fiercely, a strange half-smile on her lips…..
This is ... not right came the message in Maria’s brain. This is sooo.... not right, she thought, watching her friend looking away, looking with a combination look, part deep embarrassment, part cat that swallowed the canary.
Maria’s eyes dropped to the pullover sweater her friend was wearing. Her friend whose x-rays yesterday had shown four rib fractures…..
”I so DO NOT want to hear that Czechoslovakian medical personnel make house calls!” said Maria as she pushed gently on Liz, over one of her “broken” ribs. Liz started to giggle, and continued to blush. Shaking her head with a smile, Maria said “Talk, girlfriend. I need details.”
“Maria, it was just that, well he knew that I couldn’t sleep with those rib fractures. I tossed and turned with them all the time we were in the vault. I think I kept him awake griping about them.”
“Liz, we’ve been almost like sisters since second grade. Are you going to sit there and try to tell me that you believe you annoyed Max Evans by lying beside him in a dimly lit room for 30 hours. This is Maria you’re talking to here….”
Maria was starting to enjoy this. This was definitely NOT how she’d anticipated spending the morning “comforting” her friend.
“And last night….or was it this morning…??”
“Sort of this morning.”
“Right......, was this morning business or pleasure?”
“Mariiiia!” Liz squealed, happy but embarrassed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?” she asked smiling. “And what’s with the blusher fetish? You seem to be more than capable of blushing this morning, without cosmetics?”
“He kind of fixed my cheek fracture, but he overdid it on the bruise.”
“Overdid it?”
“It’s sort of half gone, so I’m covering up the part that’s missing.”
Maria grinned broadly, thinking that this just keeps getting better and better.
“I take it from the sweater, which you might not want to wear in public for a few weeks by the way, that the ribs got the laying on of hands treatment too?”
The blushing continued and Liz gently nodded her head, unwilling to trust herself to speak.
“So did he leave any calling cards? Some little iridescent handprints, perhaps? Or possibly a small, discrete, fluorescent tattoo, “Property of Max Evans”?”
“Mariiiiaa,” squealed Liz, both girls now laughing.
“So, I guess that would be it then,?” Maria asked. As she saw Liz blush furiously, she thought to herself, 'Oh boy, here it comes…….'
“Well, just some scratches and bruises. That’s all.” Liz said as innocently as possible.
“I take it that you can hide these missing bruises without using blusher?” Maria asked rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I suppose we should all be grateful you didn’t have a yeast infection that needed fixing this morning.”
Liz squealed, “Mariiiiaaa!” and commenced to beat her friend with a pillow.
“Really Maria, it is SOO complicated,” said Liz between bites of her Strawberry Martian Sundae. “I know I’m kind of acting like I’ve been swept off my feet, and maybe I have. But it seems like so much of any relationship is developing trust with each other. Trust enough to let the other one see the real you, see past the person you try to show to the world, and then see if you are truly compatible. And then you see if you can trust someone enough to love them, taking slow steps, and seeing how they react.
So I have someone who I thought could never be more than a casual friend, risk everything to save my life. He then drops the Czechoslovakian bomb on me, trusting me with his entire existence which he has kept a secret from even his own parents for practically his entire life. And when I freak and can’t handle it, he lets me gaze into his soul, Maria, his very soul, and in the connection I find he has been bonkers over me since he stepped off the bus in the third grade. So where are we on the trust scale so far? Like twelve out of ten? Then he pushes me away because he didn’t know I’ve had a crush on him since the seventh grade, being all noble and refusing to “take advantage” of my gratitude for saving my life and afraid of getting me entangled in the whole Czechoslovakian business because it’s too dangerous. We can 'only be friends,' he says, because we are 'different.'”
Maria tried to keep a spoon of ice cream in her mouth, to avoid talking, watching her friend vent.
Liz went on. “So I wind up in trouble that doesn’t have anything to do with Czechoslovakia, not his fault, not his responsibility, and who comes in to take a bullet for me? Who gets up off of his death bed to blast two guys who are attacking me? That’s my Max.”
Maria smiled, quickly sliding another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, hearing the possessive tone in Liz’s voice. ‘Oh my, future-valedictorian, ultra-rational science-brain buddy Liz, has fallen just about as far in love as anyone can get.’
“I practically had to fight him off to KEEP him from healing me on the spot, and probably giving himself away to the Sheriff in the process, and then when he comes to my room in the middle of the night, he’s so embarrassed that I might learn that he actually finds my body attractive, that he’s like doing geometry proofs in his brain to keep from looking or feeling, even when he’s touching me. And when I flash about what that creep had tried to do, the guy he’d killed to protect me from, he thinks that I’m afraid he’s being a creep, and I almost have to tackle him to keep him from running off and committing suicide or something. And then he lets me see in to his soul AGAIN Maria, trying to straighten out what just happened. We are off-scale on the trust, here Maria."
“You know”, said Maria, putting down her spoon, “I think we were both really just blown away by the Czechoslovakian thing. We’ve known these three people since the third grade and they were…just kids. OK, a little more secretive than others, ….well, a LOT more secretive, as it turns out. But they were raised pretty much like you and me, at least the Evans’. I don’t imagine their parents cut them any more slack than ours did. Given his foster father, it’s probably amazing that Michael is as functional socially as he is.”
So I have someone who I thought could never be more than a casual friend, risk everything to save my life. He then drops the Czechoslovakian bomb on me, trusting me with his entire existence which he has kept a secret from even his own parents for practically his entire life. And when I freak and can’t handle it, he lets me gaze into his soul, Maria, his very soul, and in the connection I find he has been bonkers over me since he stepped off the bus in the third grade. So where are we on the trust scale so far? Like twelve out of ten? Then he pushes me away because he didn’t know I’ve had a crush on him since the seventh grade, being all noble and refusing to “take advantage” of my gratitude for saving my life and afraid of getting me entangled in the whole Czechoslovakian business because it’s too dangerous. We can 'only be friends,' he says, because we are 'different.'”
Maria tried to keep a spoon of ice cream in her mouth, to avoid talking, watching her friend vent.
Liz went on. “So I wind up in trouble that doesn’t have anything to do with Czechoslovakia, not his fault, not his responsibility, and who comes in to take a bullet for me? Who gets up off of his death bed to blast two guys who are attacking me? That’s my Max.”
Maria smiled, quickly sliding another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, hearing the possessive tone in Liz’s voice. ‘Oh my, future-valedictorian, ultra-rational science-brain buddy Liz, has fallen just about as far in love as anyone can get.’
“I practically had to fight him off to KEEP him from healing me on the spot, and probably giving himself away to the Sheriff in the process, and then when he comes to my room in the middle of the night, he’s so embarrassed that I might learn that he actually finds my body attractive, that he’s like doing geometry proofs in his brain to keep from looking or feeling, even when he’s touching me. And when I flash about what that creep had tried to do, the guy he’d killed to protect me from, he thinks that I’m afraid he’s being a creep, and I almost have to tackle him to keep him from running off and committing suicide or something. And then he lets me see in to his soul AGAIN Maria, trying to straighten out what just happened. We are off-scale on the trust, here Maria."
“You know”, said Maria, putting down her spoon, “I think we were both really just blown away by the Czechoslovakian thing. We’ve known these three people since the third grade and they were…just kids. OK, a little more secretive than others, ….well, a LOT more secretive, as it turns out. But they were raised pretty much like you and me, at least the Evans’. I don’t imagine their parents cut them any more slack than ours did. Given his foster father, it’s probably amazing that Michael is as functional socially as he is.”
Tuesday Morning 10:30 AM County Medical Examiner’s Office.
Sheriff Valenti wasn’t really sure why Doc Barson had called and asked him to drop by, but he since he had just done the autopsies of Garber and McMillan he assumed it had to do with the upcoming Coroner’s Inquest Jury. The Doc looked up from his desk as Jim came in the building, motioned him into a chair in his office and went over to pour a cup of coffee for him before closing the office door. He handed the sheriff the cup of coffee, and sat back down at his own desk. Valenti really couldn’t identify the look on the Doc’s face. He wasn’t looking really happy, but then Jim didn’t suppose that doing autopsies was a very happy business. He looked almost….satisfied though.
“So what’s going on, Doc?”
“Well Jim, I wanted to speak to you about some things that might be a little complication in the coroner’s inquest jury, maybe yes, maybe no. I’m not really sure. Then I wanted you to know that I’m about to break the law, the statute of the State of New Mexico having to do with confidentiality of autopsy reports, to be precise. And I want you to understand why.”
Valenti’s eyebrows went up. He’d known Doc Barson for the two years since he’d come down from Albuquerque to take the job. The Doc was about as straight a shooter and stickler for the letter of the law as anyone he’d ever known. What on earth was going on? Sometimes the best thing was just to let someone talk.
“Go on,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee and leaning back in the chair.
“First of all Jim, I’ve got some history with those two you brought in yesterday, dating back to when I was the junior Medical Examiner up in Albuquerque. I had to deal with their handiwork twice.
The first was a 17 year old woman that had been assaulted so severely she was catatonic. We had a new forensic specialist on that night. She’d been well trained, and checked out by her supervisor, but this was her first night to ever go to an ER by herself. She was so horrified by the state the woman was in that she got rattled, made one small error on the paperwork and slightly misplaced the evidence tape when she sealed the sample. They were innocent mistakes, and she admitted to them, swearing that the sample was nonetheless the one from the ER. And it wasn’t like the woman could have been carrying around a vial full of Garber’s semen that night, on the off-chance that she would be called in on a rape case. The sample still could have been admitted in evidence, hell it should have been admitted in evidence, but Garber’s lawyer convinced the judge otherwise, the sample was thrown out, and with nothing else to connect him to the crime, Garber walked.
The 17 year old woman I saw on the autopsy table about three weeks later, a bullet through the roof of her mouth.”
The Doc was shaking his head at the memory as Jim watched, tears flowing unashamedly down Barson’s cheeks. “Even her church didn’t hold it against her, she’s buried in hallowed ground. She’d been driven insane by what he’d done to her, she never really was rational again, right up to when she got hold of the gun. The forensic tech never really forgave herself. She eventually got back to work, but she knew that Garber was on the street because of a mistake she made, and she’s lived with that for two years now”
“The second case was a fourteen year old girl. She’d been missing for two weeks, it was all over the local news. The parents were of course devastated, the girl’s mother almost out of her mind.
McMillan and Garber were at some biker bar when it played on the local news on TV there. They both laughed and joked about the case but really didn’t say anything that would have passed muster for probable cause to do anything, but one bike gang member had his suspicions.
The girl’s grandfather was a deputy sheriff. He’d been around a long time, and everybody knew him. The funny thing was, he’d busted that biker a couple of times, it wasn’t even like they were even friends. But the biker went and told him that these two guys had been laughing about his granddaughter, that they made even the biker’s skin crawl, and the deputy looked them up, saw their priors, saw they were sex offenders. He told the detectives working on the case, but they really didn’t have probable cause to pick the guys up. The Sheriff ordered grandpa to stay away from the case, because he was too personally involved. But watching his daughter start to come apart emotionally, just not knowing what happened to her daughter, it eventually got too much for him.
He staked out McMillan’s house, followed him out of town and pulled him over out in the desert. He started to question him about the girl and McMillan made some sick comment that earned him a nightstick in the gut. The deputy then pulled out his service weapon, put it against McMillan’s crotch and gave him 10 seconds to tell where the girl was. McMillan peed his pants, but told where the body was. It was in the middle of nowhere, it would have never been found. I did the autopsy.
It was clear from the DNA that McMillan and Garber had…shared her, passed her back and forth for a few days, most likely. Then she was strangled. Of course, that didn’t matter to the court, all of the evidence was thrown out, because of the old man’s actions.
McMillan and Garber walked, but of course they would have anyway. Their lawyer wanted the deputy charged, but backed off later. I heard the whole damn biker gang threatened to take the lawyer out if he kept after the deputy, but that may have been just a rumor. In any event, the deputy was quickly retired early, the shyster lawyer got an injunction keeping the family away from Garber and McMillan, but the family at least knew what happened to the girl. They found a little bit of closure.”
Valenti shook his head in disgust. “So what does this have to do with you breaking the law?”
“Simple,” said the doctor. “I’m taking copies of the x-rays and autopsy photos up to Albuquerque when I go up there in two days, and I’m going to show them to that forensic tech, the retired deputy, and the girl’s parents too if they want to see them. I want them to know that there is justice in this world sometimes, even if it isn’t in the legal system.
Oh, I’m not going to do any of the things that statute was really designed to prevent, these pictures aren’t going to wind up in the National Enquirer, or shoved in front of some relative of Garber and McMillan.” But now that those two monsters are dead, I’m going to show their victims the pictures and tell them a story that’ll let them start to heal.”
Jim Valenti just shook his head slowly. What was in the perpetrators rap sheets had been more than enough to call into question why they’d ever been put in a halfway house, he’d have to agree with young Maria DeLuca on that. But to hear the rest of the story, the part that was true, but that wasn’t allowed to be in the official file, just sickened him.
What kind of society valued the rights of such monsters over the lives of kids, kids like the young Parker girl. He’d seen a lot of ugliness as a law enforcement officer, but he’d always believed his job was to protect the innocent. The system had certainly failed with these two.
“Doc, if you think those pictures and x-rays can do some good, I’m certainly not going to tell you not to use them. But you need to remember that the Evans kid is a minor, you can’t let his name get out that he beat these guys to death.”
Jim Valenti saw a strange look cross Barson’s face. ‘Oh-oh,’ he thought. 'What’s wrong here?’
“Doc?......What haven’t you told me?”
“Well Jim, I just don’t understand how the kid could have beat those two to death, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, Doc? He admitted to it! The other hostage swears to it. Are you saying they weren’t hit by the fire extinguisher?”
“Well no Jim, I’m not. There are marks on both bodies indicating they were hit several times with that fire extinguisher, and they were reasonably heavy blows which well might have killed the men, except for one thing.”
“What one thing?”
“They were already dead.”
"What...???"
“Jim, there wasn’t any bruising from the fire extinguisher injuries, and very little loss of blood. Both men’s hearts had stopped beating before they were hit with the fire extinguisher. They’d probably been dead for awhile, maybe several hours.”
Jim sat back in the chair and looked at the doctor in amazement. “So you are saying they didn’t die from blunt trauma, but from something else?”
“Oh Lord no Jim, these guys definitely died from blunt trauma, these guys died so quick their bodies don’t even give a hint on the outside as to how much blunt trauma they had.
Look at these x-rays. That’s a busted scapula there. That takes a severe impact. Same guy, busted pelvis and shattered femur. That takes huge forces. Both have multiple linear skull fractures. Multiple rib fractures. Multiple long bone fractures. And at autopsy, one had his liver broken literally in two, and both had ruptured spleens and fractured kidneys.”
“What could have done that, Doc?”
“I have no idea, Sheriff. Last body I saw that looked this busted up inside was a guy in Santa Fe who was drunk and tried to take a shortcut across a railroad trestle walking home from the bar. I’m not sure if it was the hit from the freight train that did most of the damage or the 70 foot fall into the arroyo, but he looked this bad…. well, almost this bad.”
“So you are saying that Max Evans didn’t do this?”
“Jim, I’m saying that I don’t know what could have done this. It’s like these guys were hit by an explosion, they were damn near pulverized. I just don’t know how that would have happened. I’m not going to call the kids liars, I wasn’t there. And to tell you the truth, I am so damn pleased with the outcome that I wouldn’t criticize anybody’s methods.”
“So what’s going in your report, Doc?”
“Death due to blunt trauma and a list of the injuries. A sort of Joe Friday, just-the-facts-m’am statement of the injuries that I found, not saying anything about how they happened because frankly I don’t have a clue what happened.
I’d have guessed there was some kind of explosion in that vault if two people hadn’t come out alive and pretty much unharmed. I’m pretty sure those two people know what really did happen, but if they want to tell some other story, I frankly just don’t care. Two monster’s needed killing. Two monsters died. If it was those two kids that did it or the Wrath of God that killed them, it makes no difference to me. If the boy wants to take credit for it, that’s fine with me too.
I’ve never had a day when I enjoyed doing two autopsies so much. These guys needed killing, and my only regret is that they were taken out so hard I doubt they even knew what hit them before they died.”
Sheriff Valenti wasn’t really sure why Doc Barson had called and asked him to drop by, but he since he had just done the autopsies of Garber and McMillan he assumed it had to do with the upcoming Coroner’s Inquest Jury. The Doc looked up from his desk as Jim came in the building, motioned him into a chair in his office and went over to pour a cup of coffee for him before closing the office door. He handed the sheriff the cup of coffee, and sat back down at his own desk. Valenti really couldn’t identify the look on the Doc’s face. He wasn’t looking really happy, but then Jim didn’t suppose that doing autopsies was a very happy business. He looked almost….satisfied though.
“So what’s going on, Doc?”
“Well Jim, I wanted to speak to you about some things that might be a little complication in the coroner’s inquest jury, maybe yes, maybe no. I’m not really sure. Then I wanted you to know that I’m about to break the law, the statute of the State of New Mexico having to do with confidentiality of autopsy reports, to be precise. And I want you to understand why.”
Valenti’s eyebrows went up. He’d known Doc Barson for the two years since he’d come down from Albuquerque to take the job. The Doc was about as straight a shooter and stickler for the letter of the law as anyone he’d ever known. What on earth was going on? Sometimes the best thing was just to let someone talk.
“Go on,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee and leaning back in the chair.
“First of all Jim, I’ve got some history with those two you brought in yesterday, dating back to when I was the junior Medical Examiner up in Albuquerque. I had to deal with their handiwork twice.
The first was a 17 year old woman that had been assaulted so severely she was catatonic. We had a new forensic specialist on that night. She’d been well trained, and checked out by her supervisor, but this was her first night to ever go to an ER by herself. She was so horrified by the state the woman was in that she got rattled, made one small error on the paperwork and slightly misplaced the evidence tape when she sealed the sample. They were innocent mistakes, and she admitted to them, swearing that the sample was nonetheless the one from the ER. And it wasn’t like the woman could have been carrying around a vial full of Garber’s semen that night, on the off-chance that she would be called in on a rape case. The sample still could have been admitted in evidence, hell it should have been admitted in evidence, but Garber’s lawyer convinced the judge otherwise, the sample was thrown out, and with nothing else to connect him to the crime, Garber walked.
The 17 year old woman I saw on the autopsy table about three weeks later, a bullet through the roof of her mouth.”
The Doc was shaking his head at the memory as Jim watched, tears flowing unashamedly down Barson’s cheeks. “Even her church didn’t hold it against her, she’s buried in hallowed ground. She’d been driven insane by what he’d done to her, she never really was rational again, right up to when she got hold of the gun. The forensic tech never really forgave herself. She eventually got back to work, but she knew that Garber was on the street because of a mistake she made, and she’s lived with that for two years now”
“The second case was a fourteen year old girl. She’d been missing for two weeks, it was all over the local news. The parents were of course devastated, the girl’s mother almost out of her mind.
McMillan and Garber were at some biker bar when it played on the local news on TV there. They both laughed and joked about the case but really didn’t say anything that would have passed muster for probable cause to do anything, but one bike gang member had his suspicions.
The girl’s grandfather was a deputy sheriff. He’d been around a long time, and everybody knew him. The funny thing was, he’d busted that biker a couple of times, it wasn’t even like they were even friends. But the biker went and told him that these two guys had been laughing about his granddaughter, that they made even the biker’s skin crawl, and the deputy looked them up, saw their priors, saw they were sex offenders. He told the detectives working on the case, but they really didn’t have probable cause to pick the guys up. The Sheriff ordered grandpa to stay away from the case, because he was too personally involved. But watching his daughter start to come apart emotionally, just not knowing what happened to her daughter, it eventually got too much for him.
He staked out McMillan’s house, followed him out of town and pulled him over out in the desert. He started to question him about the girl and McMillan made some sick comment that earned him a nightstick in the gut. The deputy then pulled out his service weapon, put it against McMillan’s crotch and gave him 10 seconds to tell where the girl was. McMillan peed his pants, but told where the body was. It was in the middle of nowhere, it would have never been found. I did the autopsy.
It was clear from the DNA that McMillan and Garber had…shared her, passed her back and forth for a few days, most likely. Then she was strangled. Of course, that didn’t matter to the court, all of the evidence was thrown out, because of the old man’s actions.
McMillan and Garber walked, but of course they would have anyway. Their lawyer wanted the deputy charged, but backed off later. I heard the whole damn biker gang threatened to take the lawyer out if he kept after the deputy, but that may have been just a rumor. In any event, the deputy was quickly retired early, the shyster lawyer got an injunction keeping the family away from Garber and McMillan, but the family at least knew what happened to the girl. They found a little bit of closure.”
Valenti shook his head in disgust. “So what does this have to do with you breaking the law?”
“Simple,” said the doctor. “I’m taking copies of the x-rays and autopsy photos up to Albuquerque when I go up there in two days, and I’m going to show them to that forensic tech, the retired deputy, and the girl’s parents too if they want to see them. I want them to know that there is justice in this world sometimes, even if it isn’t in the legal system.
Oh, I’m not going to do any of the things that statute was really designed to prevent, these pictures aren’t going to wind up in the National Enquirer, or shoved in front of some relative of Garber and McMillan.” But now that those two monsters are dead, I’m going to show their victims the pictures and tell them a story that’ll let them start to heal.”
Jim Valenti just shook his head slowly. What was in the perpetrators rap sheets had been more than enough to call into question why they’d ever been put in a halfway house, he’d have to agree with young Maria DeLuca on that. But to hear the rest of the story, the part that was true, but that wasn’t allowed to be in the official file, just sickened him.
What kind of society valued the rights of such monsters over the lives of kids, kids like the young Parker girl. He’d seen a lot of ugliness as a law enforcement officer, but he’d always believed his job was to protect the innocent. The system had certainly failed with these two.
“Doc, if you think those pictures and x-rays can do some good, I’m certainly not going to tell you not to use them. But you need to remember that the Evans kid is a minor, you can’t let his name get out that he beat these guys to death.”
Jim Valenti saw a strange look cross Barson’s face. ‘Oh-oh,’ he thought. 'What’s wrong here?’
“Doc?......What haven’t you told me?”
“Well Jim, I just don’t understand how the kid could have beat those two to death, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, Doc? He admitted to it! The other hostage swears to it. Are you saying they weren’t hit by the fire extinguisher?”
“Well no Jim, I’m not. There are marks on both bodies indicating they were hit several times with that fire extinguisher, and they were reasonably heavy blows which well might have killed the men, except for one thing.”
“What one thing?”
“They were already dead.”
"What...???"
“Jim, there wasn’t any bruising from the fire extinguisher injuries, and very little loss of blood. Both men’s hearts had stopped beating before they were hit with the fire extinguisher. They’d probably been dead for awhile, maybe several hours.”
Jim sat back in the chair and looked at the doctor in amazement. “So you are saying they didn’t die from blunt trauma, but from something else?”
“Oh Lord no Jim, these guys definitely died from blunt trauma, these guys died so quick their bodies don’t even give a hint on the outside as to how much blunt trauma they had.
Look at these x-rays. That’s a busted scapula there. That takes a severe impact. Same guy, busted pelvis and shattered femur. That takes huge forces. Both have multiple linear skull fractures. Multiple rib fractures. Multiple long bone fractures. And at autopsy, one had his liver broken literally in two, and both had ruptured spleens and fractured kidneys.”
“What could have done that, Doc?”
“I have no idea, Sheriff. Last body I saw that looked this busted up inside was a guy in Santa Fe who was drunk and tried to take a shortcut across a railroad trestle walking home from the bar. I’m not sure if it was the hit from the freight train that did most of the damage or the 70 foot fall into the arroyo, but he looked this bad…. well, almost this bad.”
“So you are saying that Max Evans didn’t do this?”
“Jim, I’m saying that I don’t know what could have done this. It’s like these guys were hit by an explosion, they were damn near pulverized. I just don’t know how that would have happened. I’m not going to call the kids liars, I wasn’t there. And to tell you the truth, I am so damn pleased with the outcome that I wouldn’t criticize anybody’s methods.”
“So what’s going in your report, Doc?”
“Death due to blunt trauma and a list of the injuries. A sort of Joe Friday, just-the-facts-m’am statement of the injuries that I found, not saying anything about how they happened because frankly I don’t have a clue what happened.
I’d have guessed there was some kind of explosion in that vault if two people hadn’t come out alive and pretty much unharmed. I’m pretty sure those two people know what really did happen, but if they want to tell some other story, I frankly just don’t care. Two monster’s needed killing. Two monsters died. If it was those two kids that did it or the Wrath of God that killed them, it makes no difference to me. If the boy wants to take credit for it, that’s fine with me too.
I’ve never had a day when I enjoyed doing two autopsies so much. These guys needed killing, and my only regret is that they were taken out so hard I doubt they even knew what hit them before they died.”
Tuesday Afternoon, 1:00 PM, Chaves County Prosecuting Attorney’s Office.
“Thanks for seeing me this soon, Arnold.”
“No problem, Jim. So what brings the Sheriff to my office, or is this a personal visit?”
“It’s about the autopsy report on the two from the bank, Arnold. Have you read it?”
“Well, yes I have, Jim. What about it?”
“Well Arnie, it’s about all the injuries to those guys. Now I know you’ve got to do your duty, and I’d never ask you not to, but…..well, these seem like pretty good kids, and there’s a lot on those two rapists that isn’t in the official record and…”
“Stop it right there, Sheriff!” the prosecuting attorney said.
“But….”
“No buts, Jim. You can’t possibly be asking me if I intend to take legal action against a 16 year old kid for using a little “excessive force” in stopping those two bastards from raping his girlfriend?
A 16 year old kid that was shot in the head by them? After they’d shot the bank president? After they’d busted the girl’s ribs and smashed in her face?
Jim, even if the kid had spent two days torturing them to death, even if I wanted to charge him, even if I could find a coroner’s jury crazy enough to rule it something other than justifiable homicide,........ I still wouldn’t charge the kid, because my opponent in the next general election, whoever he or she is, would crucify me for bringing charges against the kid.
And even if I were willing to commit political suicide by bringing those charges, do something so politically stupid that even my own wife would vote for my opponent, it still wouldn’t matter because even Philip Evans, a contract lawyer with no real criminal law experience, could convince the jury to acquit the kid in a heartbeat. Any more questions?”
Jim Valenti smiled broadly. “Just one Arnie, …can I buy you lunch?”
“Thanks for seeing me this soon, Arnold.”
“No problem, Jim. So what brings the Sheriff to my office, or is this a personal visit?”
“It’s about the autopsy report on the two from the bank, Arnold. Have you read it?”
“Well, yes I have, Jim. What about it?”
“Well Arnie, it’s about all the injuries to those guys. Now I know you’ve got to do your duty, and I’d never ask you not to, but…..well, these seem like pretty good kids, and there’s a lot on those two rapists that isn’t in the official record and…”
“Stop it right there, Sheriff!” the prosecuting attorney said.
“But….”
“No buts, Jim. You can’t possibly be asking me if I intend to take legal action against a 16 year old kid for using a little “excessive force” in stopping those two bastards from raping his girlfriend?
A 16 year old kid that was shot in the head by them? After they’d shot the bank president? After they’d busted the girl’s ribs and smashed in her face?
Jim, even if the kid had spent two days torturing them to death, even if I wanted to charge him, even if I could find a coroner’s jury crazy enough to rule it something other than justifiable homicide,........ I still wouldn’t charge the kid, because my opponent in the next general election, whoever he or she is, would crucify me for bringing charges against the kid.
And even if I were willing to commit political suicide by bringing those charges, do something so politically stupid that even my own wife would vote for my opponent, it still wouldn’t matter because even Philip Evans, a contract lawyer with no real criminal law experience, could convince the jury to acquit the kid in a heartbeat. Any more questions?”
Jim Valenti smiled broadly. “Just one Arnie, …can I buy you lunch?”