Part Twenty One
It was someone else’s apartment. Some other Max had once lived here, a long time ago, before the world had gone to hell.
Max hovered near the doorway as he watched Liz move about the small space turning on lights, taking off her coat, stashing her purse under the kitchen counter like she always did. The apartment smelled familiar – a mixture of the homey touches Liz had instilled and the scent of old water pipes – but it felt entirely foreign to Max.
It had been nearly eight months since he’d left this place, off to his menial tour guide job. He tried really hard to remember that morning, what he was wearing, the route he’d taken to work. It had been hot, the end of July, and the morning air had felt a little oppressive. Of course, he’d been wearing clothes suitable for the museum, clothes that had long since been cast aside, in some country Max didn’t remember. And then he’d driven to work.
Where was his car? Where had the Chevelle gone after they’d left the cabin and Liz behind to embark on their journey to China? Max’s brow furrowed. He’d loved that heap of metal and only now, many months later, did he realize that it was missing. The thing that troubled him was that he had no memory of where he’d left it.
“I can make some coffee,” Liz was saying as she moved about the kitchen.
Max remained near the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. Why did he feel so uncomfortable here?
“Max?” Liz called, leaning around the kitchen door. “Would you like coffee?”
He shook his head.
She paused a moment, studied him silently, then crossed the small living room and put her arms around him.
And then Max felt like he was home again. They had been too rushed to get to Cape Cod to save Isabel’s baby to say hello properly. Until now, until he had Liz in his arms again, the world had seemed a little off. Now things seemed a little brighter as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. She smelled like roses and he nearly moaned in happiness.
“I didn’t get to wish you happy birthday,” she whispered against his ear, lingering, placing a questioning kiss against his cheek.
Max turned his head to capture her lips with his, but he held back a bit. After all, he still wasn’t sure what had catapulted him back to the past, back to the airport, in order to save little Jeremy – opening a connection with Liz might give her flashes of things he couldn’t explain.
“I missed you on your birthday,” she said against his throat, her hands falling to the snap of his jeans.
“I missed you, too,” he agreed, running one hand through her hair while gently stopping her from dropping his zipper with the other.
She looked up at him questioningly, but before he could devise an excuse for not hopping into bed with her, realization showed in her eyes. Realization and…something else. Victory? Why did it always seem like she was one step ahead of him?
“I’m very selfish,” she said with a giggle. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”
Yes, he was. The harried flight from Florida had been strenuous to say the least. Then having time reverse or whatever had happened hadn’t been a pleasant experience. On top of that, it had taken a very strong dose of his powers to heal the baby and his body was still feeling the effects of that.
Liz’s eyes softened and she reached up to touch his cheek. “You’re my hero,” she said. “Did you know that?”
He smiled in return, covered her hand with his.
“You are,” she confirmed, giving a nod of her head. “A man who can do what you can do and who can still remain humble, who will come from far away to help out those he loves. You’re a hero, Max.”
Max’s cheeks flushed. Though he enjoyed being complimented by the only woman he would ever love, sometimes too much attention still made him want to crawl behind the tree.
Liz slid her hand away from his face, down his chest, then down his arm until she clasped his hand in hers. “Come with me,” she said softly, giving him a little tug.
She led him to the bathroom, where she made him wait while she started to fill the tub with water. When she reached for her scented bath oil, he raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to protest. She popped off the cap and dumped some into the water. The scent of orange blossoms filled the air but was quickly gone as Liz waved her hand over the tub, leaving behind the oil but removing the girly aroma.
Turning toward him, she bit her bottom lip, then started working the buttons on his shirt. “It’s been a long time since I got to be with you without an alien posse around,” she said. “Let me pamper you tonight. Let things be what they used to be.”
At her words, Max felt a lump in his throat. The way they used to be. Because whether either of them wanted to admit it or not, their lives had changed irreversibly. The assassin had been caught and Agent Darmon was off doing whatever it was he did when not on active duty, but even without the alien presence, there was a definite feeling of change in the air.
Max’s shirt fell to the floor and Liz took a moment to touch his skin, but no so long as to send the message that she wanted anything more than to admire him. Then her hands worked the fly of his jeans and he helped her push them to the floor. With a smile, she took him by the hand and led him to the tub, where she turned off the water and gestured for him to climb in.
Sinking into the tub was close to the best feeling Max had ever had. The water was the perfect temperature and the oil caressed his aching muscles. He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling, not having realized how tired he truly was.
Liz dropped to her knees beside the tub and picked up the yellow bath sponge. Max watched her dip the sponge into the water and then gently caress his chest with it.
“Sometimes at night,” she said, “I would remember doing this with you. Do you remember?”
He gave a small smile and nodded.
“Remember that time we were in the tub at three in the morning and the old bitty downstairs complained because she could hear the water filling?” Liz asked with a giggle.
Max’s smile broadened at the thought.
Liz dipped the sponge and trailed it down his arm. “I would think about this, remembering every inch of you. And it would help.”
Max’s smile faded as he felt the loneliness in her voice. He understood that. After all, he’d spent the last eight months trying to remember every inch of her as well.
“Sit up,” she commanded gently and he did as he was told.
Behind him, he heard the sponge dip into the water, then felt the warmth slid across his shoulders, down his back.
“I didn’t forget anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not one freckle.”
Max looked over his shoulder, a thousand year’s worth of apologies in his eyes. “It’s over now, Liz. I’m home. We can be together.”
She stopped stroking his back and met his eyes. In hers, he saw doubt that cut him to the core. She didn’t pursue the subject, however, as she took his shoulder and eased him back against the tub. Before he was settled into his spot, however, he took her hand in his and offered her a smile of invitation. Her eyes softened and she stood to remove her clothes.
Soon she was sinking into the other end of the tub, his legs parting to allow her room. Once she’d settled, he used his toes to caress the smooth skin of her outer thigh.
“I miss this,” he said contentedly. “I missed you.”
“Me too,” she agreed, reclining against the tub, the ends of her dark hair trailing in the water.
Max watched her silently, then beneath the water waved his hand. Soon the smell of oranges filled the air and Liz lifted her head with a wry smile.
“For you,” he said, causing her to smile wider.
They fell into silence, two exhausted people, safe at home again. Max reheated the water a couple of times, took his time bathing Liz as she had bathed him, then climbed out of the tub when his fingertips became too wrinkled to function properly.
He toweled himself first, wrapping the towel around his waist. Then he reached into the tub and helped her to her feet. He was in no hurry as he went about drying her soft skin, allowing himself time to enjoy every inch of her. Using a little blast of his powers, he dried the ends of her hair, then wrapped her in a fluffy blue robe.
Together, they retreated to the bedroom, their bodies relaxed and tired, and climbed into bed together. Max rolled Liz onto her side and cradled her close to him, spooning her against his body. He squeezed her tightly, laid a grateful kiss against her neck.
“She’s so happy,” Liz said, her voice tired, her words slow.
Max settled against his pillow. “Isabel?”
Liz nodded.
“I know,” he replied. “He’s a beautiful baby.” One like they might have some day. He wanted to say that, but it seemed selfish to talk about their future babies while Isabel was still celebrating hers.
“She wouldn’t have him without you,” Liz continued.
Max remained silent, feeling a sudden shift in the conversation coming.
“She didn’t have him, did she?”
He couldn’t stop his bodily reaction to her comment –he jerked slightly, his body tightening as a little flare of panic started in his gut. In the dark, Liz pulled away from him and rolled over so that they were face to face. He saw no malice in her eyes, but he was sure she saw the fear in his.
“Why did you leave your bags at the airport?” she asked, no accusation in her tone.
“There wasn’t – there wasn’t time,” he stammered, wishing he was back in a nice tranquil bath instead of confronting the terrifying events of a few hours ago.
“How did you know that?”
Max swallowed, looked away, his heart starting to beat a little harder. But Liz touched his face and immediately he felt a slightly calmer.
“Can I tell you what I think?” she asked, her tone gentle. Max nodded. “I think you knew you didn’t have fifteen minutes to wait for your bags. I think you knew that because you’d already been to Cape Cod, hadn’t you?”
He swallowed a little harder, his panic flaring a little warmer.
“I don’t know how you did it,” she said in wonder. “But I have to warn you of this, Max. When you time travel, we all time travel. That’s the only explanation I can put to it, because I seem to have two memories of going to Isabel’s house today.”
tbc