Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) COMPLETE 5/5/17 + A/N 5/5/19

[max and liz believer]

I think this chapter is beautiful.

FB later. I'm supposed to be sleeping...

Yes you are! Go to bed, missy!

<3

[begonia9508]

Another great part!

Even if I understand Max's doubts and insecurities, one thing is clar to me; he acts like a human would do, comfronted to such a situation... he is afraid to be condamned to it - even if he really does not know what its means for him...

It is something new and that make him afraid, because he doesn't undersatand it NOW...

Maybe talking to his father again after a good night could help him deal with the situation... Liz aleady did, obviously... understand, that's it!

Thanks EVE

[L-J-L 76]

Great Chapter!!!! Please please please please please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next for Max and Liz. I agree with Morning dreamgirl about this being a beautiful chapter. Love how Max and Liz are together.


From:
L-J-L 76

[Roswelllostcause]

Max has been struggling his whole life. He is part of two worlds. Not that he has been let to truly be part of the human one. He wishes that he was fully human rather then half alien. Love how Liz is helping him accept who he really is.



Helen

[Natalie36]

brought a tear too my eye. so beautiful

[keepsmiling7]

Some day I hope Max realizes how Liz understands him......
And they are perfect for each other.
Thanks,
Carolyn

[Morning Dreamgirl]

Feedback Chapter 86

You know, I love the connection between the two of them but I also love how they know each other so well now that there are times when they don't necessarily need the connection. Like now. For Liz to know that he needs distance right now speaks how far they've come in their relationship. And in some ways his day has been worse than hers were when she was discovering the truth. Sure, she used the mystery and secrets to avoid mourning her mother. But she had a couple of weeks to go over the clues (even if she wasn't aware of what they all were at the time). And Max gave her information over a period of a few days. Plus he was able to tell when to pull back and when to give her more.

That's not really Philip's forte.

And given the day that Max has had - an early morning confrontation with Michael, discovering Liz's access to his powers, draining Liz, opening to Liz completely, possible pregnancy, dealing with Liz's semi-breakdown, learning his father had been keeping him away from Liz as a child (because he must have), fighting with Liz and the whole parim thing - it makes you wonder how much more he can take. Had he not already been tortured by Command and company I wonder if he would still be coping this well. He's stronger because of what he went through and I'm sure that's the one of the main reasons he hasn't broken down yet. :-/

I love the concern that Diane has for her son. Obviously she would as his mother but the fact that she still wants to protect him (even if it's from his father) is just so heartwarming. (Though maybe not the thing he needs most in the world right now.) I can almost see her going to search out her husband as soon a s Max and Liz left the room.

On the other hand it would be hard for her to let go of him. She's never been able to protect him. And now that's happening all over again even if he's not in captivity. It has to hurt her at least a little to know that the slip of a girl he fell in love with can at least protect him a little and she never could. (Obviously the main emotion would be happiness and security in knowing he has a strong bonded but there would still be that little bit of sorrow attached.)

Liz saying she would protect him from his mother was sweet but profound. He has someone who can - and wants - to protect him. Someone who understands what he's going through. Someone who's the same as him.

I imagine that Max hasn't felt that before. Even his father is more alien (in every way) than he ever was. And in some ways that was a good thing in comparison. It allowed his father to not feel to the same level as Max does. Thus (perhaps) less guilt. (As a side note I think that one of the reason Max feels so strongly is because he's a Parim and therefore has more energy or emotion to pull from.)

To finally have someone who not only understands him and feels things the same way, someone who shares his powers but is also different compared to her own community (a Gaea, a healer), they also share this incredibly rare thing that has really been only legend for years. In almost every way they're bonded soul mates. And for him to finally have that... It's just breath taking. You wrote it so well I could literally feel the energy come off the page when Max was trying to hold in his hope and happiness.

Everything else could be horrible and difficult and challenging. But for this one thing everything else was worth it. For them to be the same and have each other. It's a miracle really. Out of all the world Liz is in Roswell. Out of all the worlds his people could have gone to they went to Earth.

I'm just so overjoyed that Max finally has hope of being "normal" with someone. And the fact that Liz, in all the craziness, has a place that she can feel secure about and never have to wonder how she fits in to this new society... It's magically beautiful.

[L-J-L 76]

Please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to read what will happen next between Max and Liz.

From:
L-J-L 76

[max and liz believer]

Hi everyone!

I'm sooo sorry for making you wait. The reason being that I've (finally) met my own real-life Max and he's kinda... taking up all my time But I've finally finished chapter 87 for you. I hope it was worth the wait

xx


Ashley (Morning Dreamgirl)

For Liz to know that he needs distance right now speaks how far they've come in their relationship.

Max has been ahead of Liz for a long time when it comes to him understand her. He's watched her for so long and gotten to know her really well through the check-ups. Finally, Liz is catching up Which is a good thing for them both. Making them more equal.

And given the day that Max has had - an early morning confrontation with Michael, discovering Liz's access to his powers, draining Liz, opening to Liz completely, possible pregnancy, dealing with Liz's semi-breakdown, learning his father had been keeping him away from Liz as a child (because he must have), fighting with Liz and the whole parim thing - it makes you wonder how much more he can take. Had he not already been tortured by Command and company I wonder if he would still be coping this well. He's stronger because of what he went through and I'm sure that's the one of the main reasons he hasn't broken down yet. :-/

It's been one heck of "day"

To finally have someone who not only understands him and feels things the same way, someone who shares his powers but is also different compared to her own community (a Gaea, a healer), they also share this incredibly rare thing that has really been only legend for years. In almost every way they're bonded soul mates. And for him to finally have that... It's just breath taking. You wrote it so well I could literally feel the energy come off the page when Max was trying to hold in his hope and happiness.

I'm just so overjoyed that Max finally has hope of being "normal" with someone. And the fact that Liz, in all the craziness, has a place that she can feel secure about and never have to wonder how she fits in to this new society... It's magically beautiful.

Thank you If you're happy, I'm happy

Thank you so so much for the feedback, Ashley! <3


Eve (begonia9508)

Even if I understand Max's doubts and insecurities, one thing is clar to me; he acts like a human would do, comfronted to such a situation... he is afraid to be condamned to it - even if he really does not know what its means for him...

Max doesn't realize that he's more human than anyone else Thank you for noticing

Thank you so much for the feedback!


L-J-L 76 - Thank you so much. And thank you for the bump!


Helen (roswelllostcause)

Max has been struggling his whole life. He is part of two worlds

Yes

Thank you for the feedback!


Natalie36 - Thank you so much!


Carolyn (keepsmiling7)

Some day I hope Max realizes how Liz understands him......
And they are perfect for each other.

Me too... Thank you for the feedback!


From EIGHTY-SIX:

I knew how different he had always felt. How lonely it had made him. How he never felt like he could fit in anywhere. He was half. Half of one world and half of another. When all he wanted was to find a place where he could belong.

A place with me.

But he had gotten stuck on that we were different. That I should be with someone who was like myself. Human. And it was tearing at him that he could never accomplish that. However much he practiced his powers, however much he studied, however much he wished for it, he would never be completely human.

Now I was slowly watching how it hit him. Instead of being labelled with yet another definition of 'freak' (being a parim), he was starting to see what I was seeing. How, if we were both parims, that phenomenon would unite us. Would remove his alienation to the world, to me. He would find a place of belonging.

He was slowly breaking apart, slow trembles moving through him. This time, because of happiness he was trying to contain, because he didn't want to hope. Not until he knew for sure. That I was also a parim.

Before he could disintegrate in front of me, exposed in the hallway, I slid my hand down his chest and gathered his hand in mine.

"Let's go and cut your hair," I whispered to him gently.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded silently.

____________________________________

EIGHTY-SEVEN

”Sit.”

He gave me a rueful half-smile at my order as I pointed at the toilet seat and went to search out some scissors. I looked at him over my shoulder, my eyes silently lingering on his face. On his downcast eyes as he put the toilet lid down and took a seat. On the dejection in his frame. On the drenching repercussions of having been out in pouring rain, of how it accentuated his detachment.

Sensing he was about to look up, I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and refocused on the task of locating a pair of scissors. I’m not really sure why I was so certain that I would find scissors in this bathroom, but so far the bathroom had been stocked with just about everything.

”Do you actually know how to cut hair?” he asked to my back while I opened the door to the small cabinet above the sink, sifting through creams, toothbrushes, floss.

Slowly, I licked my lips, moving some of the articles around on the shelves to look behind them. A smile fluttered on my lips at the familiar tone in his voice. The know-it-all air that he usually surrounded himself with in public. To hide his big heart.

Teasingly, I asked, ”You’re not nervous, are you?”

His warm trust for me flooded the connection, forcing my eyes to momentarily close as my free hand gripped the edge of the porcelain sink to steady myself.

”Well…”

I loved the easy and light nuance to his voice. How it (albeit temporarily) erased any trace of the anguish in his soul.

”You trust me with a sharp razor close to your jugular vein, but not to cut your hair?” I asked incredulously in reference to when he had asked me to shave him upon our arrival at the hostel.

I closed the glass door to the cabinet as his playful amusement shot sharply across our connection, straight for my core, making a gasp of lust explode across my lips.

His voice was rich like hot thick smooth chocolate, dripping with his reciprocal to my desire, as he concluded slowly, ”Fair point well made, Ms. Parker.”

I could feel his eyes on my back, tracing down my neck, down my wet clothes. It had my skin explode in goosebumps. Had my insides quake with an indefinable need for his body. For him.

Instead of spinning around to cross the small distance between us, place myself on his lap and melt our lips together, I converted the longing into a strong shudder that had my body visibly shake, and forced my unsteady legs to carry me over to a tall white cabinet next to the shower stall.

My voice was breathy and weightless as I got out, ”I’ve cut my dad’s hair for ages.”

He was very aware of my reactions. Something that further intensified my feelings. His mimicking emotions, which heated and stroke their way through my being, were making it very difficult for me to remain standing.

Something was changing within him. His thoughts were not clear-cut to me on the matter, but I could sense a tentative acceptance. An acceptance of his true origin. An acceptance of what it could mean for us. Of how it could - would - unite us.

And - apparently - it was building some kind of energy between us. Making the air in the space between us tremble with heat. Power. Electricity.

The air itself was tickling the fine hairs on my arms, heating my damp skin, shortening my breaths and intensifying my heartbeats.

The intensity of our surroundings was made even stronger by us pretending it was not there. By me trying to continue with the mundane search for scissors while Max was seated in stillness on the toilet seat.

Which was ridiculous in and of itself, considering that we were both aware of each others emotions.

Max’s voice was, however, strained as he whispered, ”You have?”

Trembles were making my hand look like it was afflicted by some motor neuron disease as I struggled to open the door to the tall cabinet in front of me.

Swallowing, I answered slowly, ”Mom used to do it”, and in the midst of the churning and overpowering emotions filling the room, my mind drifted to my mother tending to my father’s hair. She had always had such steady hands. Right up to about two years ago, when her hands had started to shake so badly that she couldn’t control the sharp tool anymore. When her violent tremors initially would make her repeatedly drop the scissors, but how those same severe tremors eventually made her nick dad’s earlobe, making it the last time she would cut his hair.

I still remember how much he had bled from that small wound. I remembered with frightening clarity the redness of his blood as it had trickled down his neck like a scene out of some sick vampire movie.

My eyes unseeingly drifted across the exposed shelves, stocked with sanitary products, rolls of toilet paper, cleaning products, towels and anything else one might need in a bathroom, while my mind was watching the memory of the small early signs of my mother’s disintegration.

I jumped as he touched my arm, my dive into my memory had me unprepared for his advance. The barely there contact between the pads of his fingers and the damp fabric of my shirt still had the power to send a surge through my body.

”You don’t have to do this, you know,” he whispered behind me as I felt the air behind my back - between our bodies - ripple with heat.

For a moment I wasn’t sure what he was referring to. It would be obvious for him to be talking about me cutting his hair, but it could also be him reminding me that we didn’t have to go into battle if I didn’t want to. Bringing me back to a previous conversation, where he had - in not so many words - basically promised me to run away with me if I didn’t want to fight for their cause.

The paused breath in my lungs was making my chest ache as my eyes drifted upwards over the shelves and caught the reflection of light bouncing off a metal surface.

”How are you supposed to see the enemy with all that hair in the way?” I mumbled as I reached for the shiny object. Which turned out to be the scissors I had been looking for.

My restrained breath erupted into a sharp gasp as he slowly wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pressed my back up against his front. His proximity had my eyes drift closed and my hand pause mid-air, still reaching for the scissors.

His warm breath brushed against the fine hairs on the side of my neck as he whispered, ”I love you.”

I reached out and grabbed a hold of the shelf instead of the scissors, to steady myself as his emotions rushed through me, turning my body into a warm gooey mass.

”I love you,” I said with breathless emphasis.

My back instinctively relaxed against his front, melting into his body, as my fingers trembled with our combined emotions against the edge of the shelf holding the small wooden box with the scissors.


I’m not sure how long we stood like that. With his breath heating the naked area behind my right ear. With his chin pressing into the top of my shoulder. With his arms tight and comforting around my middle. With our feelings overriding any thoughts through the connection, making us float softly on a warm wave of the strength of our love.

But eventually I became aware of the passage of time as Diane’s worried face flashed in front of my mental eye, reminding me that she was waiting for us to return so that she could check in on her son.

Max reluctantly released his grip on my waist as the connection shared my empathy for Diane with him. He pressed a kiss to my throat, sending sparkles down my back and all the way to my toes, before he, with a tantalizing brush of his hands against my body separated himself - at least physically - from me.

I sneaked a glance at him over my shoulder, quickly turning to grab the scissors when my eyes happened to collide with his and his wink flushed my cheeks.

My gait was unsteady and I felt almost drunk as I made my way over to the toilet seat where he had obediently resumed his position.

Even with the memory of my mother accidentally cutting my father, I was not afraid to cut Max. I knew that it wouldn’t happen. He was safe in my hands.

The realization made me smile and his observation of my reflection had him mirror my soft smile, making his eyes heat with the warmth of gold. Slowly, I licked my lips as my eyes drifted to his. I was extremely aware of his body as I stepped in between his legs.

When he looked up at me through his drying bangs, a sharp protectiveness flooded me. Standing above him like this, looking down at him, put me in an unusual high position that only deepened my fierce need to keep him safe. I struggled against the desire curling in the pit of my stomach as he brushed large hands up the outsides of my thighs and cradled his palms around my hips, steading me in front of him.

”We…” I paused to clear my throat, feeling deliciously exposed while adored when he looked up at me like that. Intently. Tracing every blink of my eyes, while every breath was making my bottom lip tremble. ”We - you - should remove your shirt. Or all the small hairs will get stuck in it and it will…”

My voice slowed and trailed off as he wordlessly released my hips, grabbed a hold of the neckline of his shirt and guided it over his head. His eyes were on me the whole time, giving me only a ’break’ as the fabric of the shirt for an instant blocked his eyes from mine.

I stilled. The shirt landed on the tiled floor next to us. My eyes slowly traced down his exposed front. My tongue slowly moved between my lips to wet my suddenly dry lips. When would I ever get used to the sight of him? How beautiful he was?

And it was not just a superficial observation. I imagined that I could actually see his essence - his energy - being reflected in the contours of his body. In the well-defined lines of his muscles. In the warm bronzy hue of his skin. In the darkness of the occasional moles, of his dark brown nipples.

My breath stuttered, my grip on the scissors was suddenly painfully hard.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t make fun of my speechlessness. Didn’t tease me for my obvious lust for him. Didn’t point out that I should concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing instead of making goo-goo eyes at him.

Instead, his hands moved back up my hips, making me feel the pressure of his fingers into the softness of my flesh acutely.

There was a touch of nervousness to my voice as I breathed a resigned, ”Okay,” and tried to force myself out of my transfixed stupor.

His eyes were glued to my face as I combed my fingers through his hair, realizing that I would need to find a comb as well. Hence, it was with quite some reluctance that I left his presence to search out a comb from the cabinet.

Comb in hand, I quickly found myself back between his thighs, with him looking up at me and me running my fingers through his thick wet hair. His hands heated through the material of my pants as he kept his palms firmly pressed into the stability of my hip bones, his fingers a comforting presence.

We didn’t exchange many words as I concentrated on shortening the strands that had started to grow wild, freeing his ears from the overhanging hair and exposing his troubled forehead. But while our mouths were saying nothing, our minds were communicating plenty. I could hear him going over the facts about parims, considering what his father had shown us, revisiting memories from his childhood that previously hadn’t made sense, and slowly coming to grips with what the information could mean.

I couldn’t help but notice that he was careful to not think too much about the possibility of me being a parim too. In my attempt at calming him down over his freak-out about him being ’pure energy’, I had unintentionally planted a very strong hope in him that we actually were the same. His father had yet to confirm what had been hinted at in his memory; that I was a parim too. Until then, Max couldn’t let himself hope.

Even though it was perfectly clear that he was already (unconsciously) placing a lot of optimism into it.

”There,” I said softly, whispering my hand at the ends of his shortened bangs, making them align in soft points below his hairline, lingering at the top of his forehead.

His eyes held the intense glow of his sharp mind as he looked up at me and asked, ”All done?”

I bent forward and gently touched his lips to mine. His lips were warm and familiar, the coldness in his body from before having receded. I lingered, feeling the buzzing in my lips from the contact, letting it heat me from top to bottom.

With a reluctant sigh, I pulled back. ”I guess we should find some dry clothes and get some breakfast.”

My eyes drifted down his bare chest, my heart missing a beat at the sight, and I glanced back up in time to catch his knowing half-smile. He squeezed my hips teasingly before I pulled back and I was comforted by the knowledge that he was feeling much better. That he was more equipped to face his father and mother again. And the rest of the group.

He got to his feet and my head slowly dipped backwards to be able to keep my eyes on him as he came to tower over me.

His lips came to brush over mine again and an overwhelming feeling of love made my stomach churn as he whispered, his lips touching mine leisurely with every syllable, ”I’m crazy about you.”

My lips curled into a smile against his lips and I whispered back, ”I’m nuts about you.”

He lingered, his warmth heating my body, before he pulled back with a loud sigh. ”Time to face the music.”

I nodded, glancing at his bare chest. ”Maybe we should get some clothes first.”

His hand whisked lovingly over my cheek, the pad of his thumb moving over the soft hill of my cheekbone as his eyes burned into mine.

The energy from before - the heat - was simmering between us again. As if he was seeing me in a different light. As if it made him - if possible - love me even more.

His eyes were signaling love, while his emotions screamed desperate fear. I frowned at the emotion, cradling the back of his hand held against my cheek with my palm, hugging the back of his hand consolingly.

I unconsciously stepped closer to him. Close enough for his warm chest to touch the front of my damp sweater. ”What’s wrong?”

His voice was dripping with vulnerable as he breathed, ”Don’t leave me.” His plea shot painfully into the center of my essence and I swallowed slowly as he repeated, ”Please don’t leave me.”

My lungs had stopped functioning in the light of his vulnerability, which was so different from how he had, not even two hours ago, suggested that we should break the connection.

It confirmed for me what I had already suspected; that he would be just as unsuccessful at surviving without me as I would be without him. That he was absolutely terrified of losing me and had only suggested for us to break the connection out of love for me. To make me happy. Because he had momentarily believed that he was making me unhappy.

My arms around his shoulders were as strong and tight as they were sudden when I pressed my body up against his and buried my nose into the warm angle of his neck. I placed a lingering kiss against his skin before making that promise that we both knew we might not be able to keep (due to external factors) but that we both desperately needed to hear.

”I’ll never leave you. I won’t let you go. Ever.”

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me even closer, even tighter as I teetered on the tips of my toes and submerged myself in everything that was Max.

Time had a tendency to run away from us whenever we got lost in our own private world, enveloped by the connection, so by the time we finally got around to changing into dry clothes and walking into the kitchen, everyone else in the house was more or less finished with breakfast.

Instead, used plates had been pushed to the side, some arranged in piles, along with a mix of empty and half-empty glasses, to make room for a scattered collection of papers that were strewn across the table.

Max’s fingers around my hand squeezed tighter as we approached. He deliberately guided us towards two seats with unused plates, on the opposite side of where his father was standing, leaning over documents.

I was trying to catch the writing on some of the documents, to get a grasp on what they contained, but Mr. Evans’ body was obscuring the papers as he leaned forward, pointing towards one for as second before referring to yet another one. Next to him, listening closely, was Isabel. Making a quick sweep of the breakfast party, I realized that my father was also listening in. As was Diane.

But even though she was following whatever her husband was describing in a hushed even tone, she still looked up as her son passed her, throwing me a concerned look when Max didn’t acknowledge her.

I offered her a smile, trying to transmit some consolation through the gesture. Trying to communicate that Max was okay now.

I must have succeeded, because Diane held my eyes for two seconds more before she returned my smile, relaxed the tension in her body and refocused on her husband.

”They were last spotted here,” Mr. Evans said.

”What’s going on?” Max asked, glancing at me cautiously and reminding me of his need to keep me safe from these things. From ’meetings’.

I was about to inform him that we had agreed upon me attending more meetings, to let me be a larger part of my own reality and future, when my eyes fell on the name in the top left corner of the impressive blueprint.

Dulce Base

My heart struck a double beat.

Someone whispered in clear shock, ”Is that real?”, and it took me a second to realize that it had been me.

I had heard of Dulce Base. Everyone who lived in Roswell - heck, anyone that lived in New Mexico probably - knew of Dulce Base. The alleged underground government facilities, below the surface of the infamous rumored Area 51, where they supposedly held aliens and performed various experiments.

Max was right behind me, his warmth melting into my back as he leaned forward to look at the blueprint over my shoulder.

His mouth was close enough to my ear that I felt his lips against the shell as he answered, ”It’s real.”

Without looking at us, Mr. Evans said, ”This is where Command’s been hiding. We need to move in through this-” he pointed to the far end of the pictured lines representing hallways and rooms, ”-hallway. He’s been moving around Level 6-”

”’Nightmare Hall’,” Isabel mumbled, her whispered emotionless alternate name for Level 6 sending chills down my spine.

”How long have you known this?”

I looked over my shoulder at Max, stilled by his authoritative voice, by his annoyed demand for answers.

”Early this morning,” Mr. Evans replied and looked at his son with determined eyes.

In his mind, Max was going over the timeline, figuring out where he had been at the time this new information would have been discovered.

”Why didn’t Michael tell me?” Max demanded.

Michael. Was that why he had been moving around the hallways in the middle of the night? Basically tripping over me when I left the bathroom?

”He didn’t have enough information. He only told you what he knew at the time.”

I don’t know why I even attempted to search Mr. Evans’ expressionless face for answers. He was a closed book, as always.

Tuning in to my confusion, Max told me, Michael told me that we should stay in our rooms. That there was a new development. That things were going down soon.

I frowned. And you accepted that?

The Max I knew - the one with the need to control everything around him - would never let that just slide. He would go search for the person with the answers instead of taking orders from his protector.

You needed me.

His simple observation was enough to weaken my legs. It was not a big revelation in and of itself, but it symbolized that he was starting to find alternative ways to protect me. That he was giving up some of his control and learning to place some trust in others.

Of course, he could have chosen someone else to trust beside Michael, but that wasn’t really the issue right now.

”How are we doing this?” Max asked, guiding me to sit down at the empty chair next to the standing Philip Evans.

Max himself took a seat behind me, placing his hand on top of my thigh and giving it a gentle and comforting squeeze. His presence was all around me. The connection was fully open between us, acting as an express lane between our feelings and thoughts.

While Mr. Evans pointed out strategies, made up plans and moved from one blueprint to the other with practiced ease, I had no trouble following. Even though I had never been trained in military strategic endeavors and had - up until now - been shielded from this part of the alien world, it all made perfect sense to me. This was because of Max’s thoughts. Of me being able to eavesdrop on his observations and reflections of what his father was telling him.

To my surprise, I found myself not only intrigued by this game of war but also less afraid. The information, and letting me take part of the plans, gave me a sense of security. Sure, it was frightening to hear of plans that most likely would involve myself and which could very likely mean a lot of pain for me, but I realized that it was a lot better knowing than remaining in the dark.

Mr. Evans was just about to pull out a list of the members of the rebellion when the sound of grunts and the angry voices of one male and one female, along with shifting commotion, coming from the hallway, had Max reacting immediately. He flew to his feet, grabbed my shoulder and almost made me fall to the floor with his agitated and swift pull on my body to get me off my chair and behind him. I managed to remain on my feet as he wound his arm around my body behind him, using his hand against the small of my back to press my front to his back.

My heart was slamming hard in my chest. Was this it? Were they attacking? Was our time of pretend relaxation and recuperation over? Would their advantage of surprising us and catching us completely off guard be the end for us?

I moved slightly to be able to see around Max’s back, wanting to know what was going on. I was looking under his raised arm. The arm he had just used to blow things up with in the rain, now aimed at the doorless entrance to the small vestibule.

Distractedly, I noticed that everyone around the table was equally tense. Mr. Evans had moved to stand in front of a seated Diane, protecting her in a manner similar to how Max was protecting me. Isabel had her arm pointed in front of her - prepared to fire. The blood was rushing in my ears as I looked over my shoulder, at my father who was still seated, not protected by anyone.

Blinding fear struck straight through my heart as I instinctively started to pull away from Max to get to my father.

”No,” Max told me sharply, his arm tightening around my back, as I met the widened large eyes of my father as the seriousness of the situation slammed into him.

”Dad,” I cried hoarsely, wanting him to get to his feet and get behind us. But the fear seemed to have nailed him to the chair and before I had a chance to repeat my request for him to move, to attempt to break through the veil of shocked surprise around him, a voice I recognized as clearly as my own had my head snap back towards the hallway.

”Let go of me, you big oaf!”

There was as subtle momentary relaxation to Max’s stance as Michael and a livid blonde girl staggered into the common room.

They were just as wet from the rain as Max and I had been barely twenty minutes prior. Michael’s hair was hanging into his eyes and his skin glistened in the light as he visibly tightened his hold around the girl’s middle. She was practically bouncing off the ground, her struggles to get out of his hold violent. It was easy to see that Michael was having trouble restraining her.

Her. With her blonde long hair clumped with wetness and her clothes sticking to her small body.

My gasp echoed loudly in the room, having Michael avert his attention from the girl and look up to see all alien hands raised at him, expecting an enemy.

He tensed and was struggling to put his hands up in defense in front of him as he cried, ”Whoa, whoa!” His sudden need for multitasking had him struggling to keep the mobile girl restrained to his side.

”It’s just-” His attempt at reassuring us of his identity was abruptly interrupted by his own roar of pain as the blonde girl bit down on the back of one of his restraining hands, making him lose his grip on her long enough to let her escape.

Without wasting a single moment, she was twirling around towards the exit with the intention of escaping whatever building she had been brought to. Never once had she looked up at the crowd staring at her wide-eyed, her struggle with her captor having devoured all of her attention.

And now she was intending to get away.

Until my quiet question boomed through the room. ”Maria?”

Somehow, through the panic she must have been feeling, through her strong survival instinct, my voice managed to reach her.

She froze with her back to us and I saw a large tremble move through her before she slowly turned towards me.


TBC...

[Roswelllostcause]

So they have a good idea where Command is hiding out. That is good. Max and Liz are so good together. OK why is Maria there? Is she going to be let into the "I know an alien club" now?



Helen