Even reading the part, I first not understood what you were talking about and thought that Liz was already into a dream... yet I am worrying about ehat Mr Evans would want for them!
Anyway, every part is a challenge and I adore that! Thanks EVE
Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) COMPLETE 5/5/17 + A/N 5/5/19
Moderators: Anniepoo98, Rowedog, ISLANDGIRL5, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, FSU/MSW-94, Hunter, Island Breeze, Forum Moderators
-
begonia9508
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1125
- Joined: Sat Nov 17, 2001 2:37 am
- Location: Somewhere lost in chocolat Land
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 70, 1/30/16, p. 59
Oh my! It is normal that Liz got confused with all, of what was happening!! With aliens who could change themselves in other people, in fraction of second, it is enough to get confused like hell!
Even reading the part, I first not understood what you were talking about and thought that Liz was already into a dream... yet I am worrying about ehat Mr Evans would want for them!
Anyway, every part is a challenge and I adore that! Thanks EVE
Even reading the part, I first not understood what you were talking about and thought that Liz was already into a dream... yet I am worrying about ehat Mr Evans would want for them!
Anyway, every part is a challenge and I adore that! Thanks EVE
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
-
max and liz believer
- Obsessed Roswellian
- Posts: 822
- Joined: Sat Sep 28, 2002 10:45 am
- Location: Sweden
- Contact:
SEVENTY-ONE
Helen (Roswelllostcause)
Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - Thank you for the feedback!
mela3
THANK you
fadedblue
Color me speechless.
How is it that you lurkers - when you once in a blue moon peek out from that secretive lurkdom - have a tendency to leave the most eloquent, thoughtful, heart-warming, caring, beautiful feedback? Of course, in response to those rare and amazing visits, I'm hit with this desperate wish for you to always pop by and say "hello", but being something of a lurker myself I understand the difficulties in crossing that threshold to actually write something. All in all, I'm extremely happy that you wrote me "something". Even if "something" doesn't quite cover it.
This
This
This
Do you know that you just read over 600 pages in 1 day 
Fast reader, you are.
Seriously, thank you so much for your kind (and amazing) words! And welcome to the story
Eve (begonia9508)
From SEVENTY:
We were touching upon his deepest fears again. Fears of being rejected. Fears of being feared - especially because of his origin. Especially because he loathed who he was. Where he came from. Even more now, considering what had happened. Considering what his race had just put me - us - through.
"Exactly," I replied, dropped my head and snuggled closer to him.
"I'll try," he whispered, brushing his hand through my hair.
In those thirteen seconds before Mr. Evans entered the room, things were as good as they could be (considering the situation). I was too occupied with the relief of being in Max's arms again, the relief of him being alive, that I didn't have any time to dwell on what I had been through.
All of that would soon come crashing down around me.
"Oh good, you're awake," Mr. Evans announced as a means of greeting as he stepped into the room.
I startled at the sudden voice, Max reflectively tightened his hold on me, and as the two traumatized teenagers that we were, our hearts flew off in adrenaline-spiked gallop rhythms before we realized that it was someone that could be trusted.
Mr. Evans had probably noticed our common flinch, because his voice was regretfully much softer and gentler as he added, "Let's get you up to speed."
SEVENTY-ONE
I was tracing the thumb of his knuckle with my index finger. Sliding it around the top of his nail, wondering if they were short because he had chewed on them or if they had cut his nails while he was unconscious. There was dirt underneath them. No. Not dirt. Blood. Most likely his own. He had his own dried blood underneath his fingernails.
I twisted our interlocked hands, turning the back of his hand more towards me so that my free hand could continue to trace and explore his skin. To move over the bumps of his blue veins, to lightly brush over the plastic object taped to his skin, avoiding the plastic line that supplied his blood with fluid. And nutrition. Apparently, Max's father had been feeding us intravenously while we had been unconscious.
Apparently we both looked horrible. Haggard and gaunt. Malnourished and weak.
Max gave my hand a squeeze and I could feel his eyes on the top of my head. But I had blocked him out of the connection. Apparently, I was able to do this now. Without much effort. Max hadn't asked me about it yet, even though I was very certain that he had noticed. That he was hurting from it. Which wasn't my intention. I just needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts.
Alex was seated on my other side, moving his eyes between Mr. Evans, the untouched soup in front of me and my face.
I guess my silence worried them.
Max's worry would be bulldozing me at the moment, if I hadn't been blocking him. I could tell, just from the way he sat really really close, from the tremors in his body, from the way his free hand was clenching and relaxing while resting on top of his thigh, and from the heat of his gaze.
He was paying about as much attention to this version of a debriefing we had ended up in as I was.
Mr. Evans was talking about Command. About a man named Dresden. About Mr. Guerin and Mr. Whitman. About the rupture of a society that had been in place since their arrival on Earth in 1947. About a community scattered and disorganized. About the change that had made this happen. Max and I. Our unusual bond. And me killing Sean and Steven.
About the rebellion that Max and I hadn't been too far off about in our speculations.
But I had stopped listening sometime after Mr. Evans had told me that they needed our help. They needed the strength of our bond. We needed to refine it, tap into its strength, and overthrow Command.
With that, the block in my mind had come naturally. Slammed down like black iron walls around my mind, cutting Max out. I hadn't been immune to his flinch as it had happened, or the way his hand had tightened around mine, or the fact that he was searching around my mind, gently tapping to get in. He didn't do it for long though, knowing what associations him trying to break into my mind might give me.
So he had, albeit unwillingly, allowed me to cut him out.
It was not really like it was an active choice. It must have been what my mind had needed. It was trying to protect itself. Because the block I had put up wasn't similar to the one Max used on me. His was usually one-way, preventing me from feeling him. While he could still read me perfectly fine. But my version was more like the one I had managed to do when Sean had assaulted me in the gym. Cutting off the bond at both ends.
But I knew that it was still there. I knew that I hadn't destroyed anything. I had learnt (the hard way) that not much could destroy this bond.
My thoughts moved uninhibited to Sean. To his blue eyes and his cold smile. To the feel of his hands around my throat as he had squeezed and squeezed-
I cleared my throat, effectively cutting off whatever Mr. Evans had been in the middle of saying, and got to my feet. "Excuse me."
Max tugged on my hand as I tried to release it. "Are you okay?"
I couldn't look into his eyes and see the worry that I could already hear in his voice. I knew that his eyes would affect me a great deal more than the tone of his voice. He was fairly good at controlling his voice. Not that good at controlling his eyes.
So my eyes were downcast as I mumbled, "I just need to go to the toilet."
"Okay," Mr. Evans said slowly. "We'll take a break then."
"No," I said quickly and looked at Max's father. He was looking at me very strangely and I briefly wondered what he was seeing.
Was I failing miserably at keeping my demons hidden?
"Don't mind me; Max will fill me in later," I whispered. It was not like I had heard much of it up until now anyway.
Max squeezed my hand before letting it go. "You need help?"
"I'll show you where it is," Alex offered and took my hand without preamble.
I bit back on the instinct to pull my hand away and fluttered a brief smile in his direction. I didn't actually know where the toilet was. "Sure. Thanks."
I let him lead me out of the room and out the hallway, Max's eyes heating down my back at my exit.
I was incredibly aware of Alex's gaze on my profile as he helped me down the corridor. "How are you holding up?"
A wave of annoyance ran through me. "You tell me."
His eyes left my face and his confession was quiet. "Actually, I can't read you."
That's because I've blocked myself off.
"How could you before?" I asked, stopping when he did, in front of a door.
He pushed the door open and reached around the doorframe to switch on the lights. The white bathroom reflected the white light, making it sting my eyes.
"I mean, neither Sean nor the Sergeant could break into my mind. At least not my emotional part. Not even Command could do that. So how could you? How could you help me earlier?" My voice had gone from bitter to soft, as my gratitude for how he had helped me earlier shone through and overrode my dark feelings.
He leaned against the doorframe and didn't acknowledge when I pulled my hand out of his. He kept his eyes locked with mine and said solemnly, almost sounding a bit sad. "I don't go through your mind. I go through your heart."
I frowned. Whatever did that mean? As far as biology had taught me, feelings were produced in the brain. It was only humans' romantic notions that insisted on describing how your heart was broken when a relationship ended or how you could be afflicted by a heavy heart.
Seeing the confusion on my face, Alex aimed to illustrate, "I can't really explain it. Feelings originate in the brain, but they resonate through your whole body. You can hold sorrow in your chest, your back gets tight from fear, you can even have phantom feelings in limbs that don't even exist anymore." He shrugged. "Yes, it all goes back and forth to the brain for processing, but your whole body sends out emotions. In waves."
"Like colors," I whispered, thinking of Max. Thinking of myself and what the connection had started to make me see.
Alex looked surprised. "Yeah. Exactly like that. And my ability translates them, makes me feel them. Makes me able to affect them. But I never go into your mind. Affecting your feelings on a 'bodily' level will still feed back into your mind, like a positive feedback loop. But your mind still has the option of 'putting its foot down' and shutting it off. If you, say, don't believe in that emotion."
It made me feel more positive about Alex's powers. To know that his powers essentially weren't messing with anyone's mind was a relief. It also explained why he had been so against telling me about himself, in the off-chance that I might react badly and he would have to attempt erasing my mind. He probably didn't have much experience with 'messing' with someone's mind.
I was so deep in thought, that I forgot to speak, so Alex continued, hesitantly, "But I can't feel you now. There's no..." he slowly licked his lips giving him time, maybe to choose his words carefully, "...colors around you."
"Yeah," I said sadly, without elaborating.
That felt about accurate. I had no colors anymore.
"Did something happen? Between you and Max? I could reach you this morning."
I sighed and shook my head to repudiate his questions. "It's just a bit too overwhelming. I just needed a break."
I realized that my answer probably gave him more questions than answers. For once, let the aliens wonder what the human did. What her powers are.
I took a step into the bathroom and produced a weak smile. "Thank you, Alex."
"I'll wait outside," he replied.
"You don't have-" I started, but he shook his head firmly.
"I'll wait outside."
I could see that he was being serious and that I probably wouldn't be able to persuade him to do otherwise. Not that I wanted to put any energy into that. There were tougher battles to save my energy for.
Instead, I nodded and closed the door.
My hands were shaking as I walked up to the toilet. The whiteness of the bathroom reminded me of another bathroom. Where I had tried to hide. Where I had been pushed up against a wall.
It was even similar to the bathroom in which I had seen my mother's blood stain the floor.
It was a struggle to pull my pants and panties down, my nerves were weakening my hands. I hid my face in my hands as I forced my body to relax enough on the toilet seat that I could actually empty my bladder.
Flushing, I stepped in front of the sink - and the mirror - and stilled. I met the dark eyes of a young woman. With protruding cheekbones and a darkness under the eyes that were making even her eyes seem to stick out. The hair was a matted mess, having gone past the oily phase and entered the tangled phase. If I leaned in closer, I could see brown-reddish flakes in parts of the hair.
Max had blood under his fingernails, I had blood in my hair.
I looked at the cracks in my lips, ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling the absence of a toothbrush, and saw the sharpness of my collarbones and the front of my shoulders jut out above the hem of the shirt.
I thought I would be all cried out by now, but still, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I cried for the girl that had died in that room. For her innocence. For her happiness.
I cried because I had been stupid. Standing in front of the mirror now, I quite clearly remembered standing in front of the mirror just three weeks earlier, before going on a date with Max. Before I had lost my virginity. I remember how I had been ashamed of my body then. How I had picked myself apart in light of my scrutiny and analyzed the different parts through the eyes of society.
Looking at me now, I wished that I could go back and talk some sense into that girl. Because she had been unaware of how beautiful she had been. She had been unaware even when she had later seen herself through his eyes. Even when he had seen her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had never let herself believe. Not really.
But I wondered what he saw now. I wondered if Max was as saddened and disgusted by my appearance as I was. I wondered if he missed that beautiful girl I had actually been not too long ago. If he regretted ever bonding with me considering how I had turned out.
Obviously, I had not succeeded in remaining that strong girl he had seen during the course of my upbringing. The one he had admired and respected. When push came to shove, I had crumbled.
The sobs I was holding back - the hollow deep sobs - pulled on the inside of my chest, and the feeling was painful. I was glad then that my mind had decided to utilize what it was learning from the connection and block Max. I was glad that he couldn't feel the wreck I had become.
I was ashamed of myself.
Was this how he felt? Max? Was this how it felt to loathe yourself?
I felt unclean. On so many levels. For so many different reasons.
I could still feel Sean's hands on me. Even the Sergeant's, as he dug his fingers into my thighs, and his closeness when he showed me exactly how he had raped my mother.
The panic was building, tightening my chest, and I frantically started to look around me. There was a shower stall in the corner of the bathroom and my eyes stopped there, looking at it longingly.
It didn't matter that the others at the 'meeting' might be waiting for me. I needed to take a shower.
So with a desperate semi-suppressed sob, I started pulling on doors to cabinets to find products. Anything that would make me clean. In the midst of my agony, I was almost ridiculously happy to find not only shampoo and conditioner, but also shaving cream and a razor.
I was inside the shower stall in seconds, turning the dials to hot and going back to my old habit of scolding myself. To feel. And this time, to become clean. Even if it meant that some layers of skin had to come off.
It felt glorious. The water - although too hot for my skin - soothed my body, flowed gently around the sharp corners of my bones and washed away several days of dirt. I lathered and washed my hair and then repeated. Seven times. I couldn't get clean enough. My arms were aching from the scrubbing, from repeatedly running my hands through my hair to get it clean. But I didn't notice.
Feeling better about my hair, I sank to the floor of the stall, my legs not holding me up any longer. I sat down and stretched both legs out in front of me, applying a generous amount of shaving gel and then commenced shaving my legs.
The task calmed my mind, made me focus on something. As if hypnotized, I angled my head to the side to be able to follow the movements of the razor as I moved it over the bumps and straight lines of my legs.
Until I cut myself. The blood - the very red and clear blood - made my breath hitch and I had to close my eyes at the sight. But closing my eyes made it worse. Behind closed eyelids were images of Max's chest - covered in blood. So I opened them again, took a deep breath, and switched to my other leg, ignoring the blood that was swirling into the drain. It eventually stopped and I could finish shaving the first leg. I finished off by shaving my armpits before I grabbed the shower gel and started rinsing through my whole body. I had found a bath sponge in one of the cabinets and I took full use of it.
My newly shaved skin didn't appreciate the combination of extremely hot water and the frantic rub of a sponge, breaking the external pinkish layer of my skin up into small bleeding wounds. But it didn't stop me. I needed to get clean.
I heard him calling me through the door a couple of times, but I didn't respond. I needed to get this done.
I guess that's why he finally entered the room and was suddenly standing outside the shower stall.
I screamed as the shadow fell over me, my heart in my throat. If the connection had been open, I would have known it was him, felt him approach, but there was no warning (except him calling my name repeatedly through the door, of course) that he would suddenly be standing there.
I inhaled sharply as he opened the door and I breathed, "Don't do that."
"I called for you," Max said slowly, his eyes trailing over my hunched up body. I curled in on myself even tighter, not wanting him to look at me.
"I'll be right out," I whispered. "Please leave."
There was obvious pain in his eyes and he barely got the words out. "What have you done? You've hurt yourself."
I dropped my eyes, staring at my pulled up knees. "I need to get clean."
He didn't say anything, but the unspoken words were burning through his gaze. The one that was still looking me over.
"I'll be right out," I repeated through tight lips. Would he stop staring at me?
I heard the rustling of clothes and looked up at him, seeing that he was pulling his shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?" I asked fearfully.
"I'm joining you," Max answered plainly.
No. No. He would touch me. He would see me.
He pushed his sweatpants down his legs. "I really need a shower too."
"Just give me a minute and it's all yours," I tried.
"No," he answered, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. Admonishment? Anger? Concern?
"Please, Max," I whispered, pleading with him. Didn't he get that he was making it worse?
I bit my lip as he pulled his boxers down and I could fully see the changes to his body. How thin he had become. The faint discoloration in different places on his body (why hadn't his father healed them? Maybe he didn't have had the energy to?) and the bones that were protruding in familiar places, like those on my own body.
He didn't let me look at him for long before he stepped into the shower, carefully stepping around my seated curled-up body. It was not a big shower stall.
"Do you have any shampoo?" he asked naturally. As if he wasn't standing over me all naked, reaching his hand down towards me.
I tried to find somewhere to place my gaze where he wasn't and nodded. "But it's for girls, I think. Coconut." Stating a detail that didn't really matter.
"Coconut is fine," he told me softly and accepted the bottle.
Even though I tried to look away, my eyes kept drifting towards him. Watching the muscles move underneath his skin with each scrub through his hair. Watching the V-shape of his back, the hairiness of the back of his thighs as he turned into the stream of the water, leaning against the wall with one hand pressed against it and his eyes closed.
He didn't wash his hair several times. Only twice. And I was a bit disappointed that he didn't. Not because I felt that he wasn't clean enough, but because it was nice to watch him do it. It was so normal, so routine. I thought about how many times he had done this in his lifetime. How he probably would have done it the exact same way every time after finding a routine that worked for him. This was a part of Max that I didn't get to see. The things he did several times a week - out of necessity.
"Shower gel?" he asked and I blushed when I noticed that he was looking at me, most likely having caught me staring at him.
"Yeah," I said and held the bottle up for him.
"Thanks," he mumbled and began to lather up his body.
A warmth was spreading out through my whole body watching him. It was not because of the temperature of the water - which Max had lowered when he stepped in by they way - nor was it necessarily a sexual thing. It was the warmth of normalcy, of belonging, of being trusted with seeing him like this. Because he had been hurt just like me. Vulnerable and exposed. Robbed of his dignity.
I briefly wondered if he was doing this for me, making a point out of showering with me, or if it had just been a matter of convenience.
"Do you have a razor?"
Yep. He had caught me staring again. This time he was smiling at me and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch in a smile that wanted to get out, but couldn't quite.
I nodded and fumbled for the razor which had traveled in the the stream of water and ended up somewhere under my pulled-up legs.
"Scoot over," his voice said over my head when I was feeling for the razor.
I looked up at him in surprise and found him taking a seat next to me on the floor of the stall, pushing the side of his lower body up against mine (there really wasn't a lot of space in there - especially not for two seated people) to gently move me to make room for him.
"Max..." I started to protest, not sure what I wanted to say or what I was objecting to.
"I need your help," he said, looking me straight in the eyes.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered, the expression in his eyes doing things to me. Adult things.
"Did you find it?" he asked, not looking away.
My eyes moved to his lips and I unconsciously licked my own as the water from the shower rained over us. I looked up into his eyes, watching water collect into big droplets on his eyelashes before they got too big and lost their grip.
"The razor," he clarified, pulling me back to reality.
"Yeah," I breathed, even though I hadn't found it yet, and quickly searched underneath me.
Finding it, I accidentally slid my finger along the sharp end, making a deep cut in the tip of my index finger.
"Ow." I snapped my hand away from the sharp object and put the finger in my mouth.
"Let me see," Max said quietly, already reaching for my hand.
I let him curl his fingers around the palm of my hand and gently pull my hand away from my mouth, my finger away from my lips. I watched him closely as he looked at my finger and suddenly it hit me how alone I felt without the connection. How much I, right now, had to rely on his actions and my own senses to get an idea of what he was feeling and thinking.
Because even though I could see the warmth with which he was touching my hand, I couldn't feel it.
He closed his hand over my finger, the small sting disappearing, his incredible warmth filled my finger and brushed against the top of my palm, before it was gone.
"Thank you," I mumbled, embarrassed about having hurt myself.
Before I had the chance to react, he had released my hand and was searching with his hand across the floor underneath my legs. "Let me get it."
My breath froze in anticipation as his arm repeatedly brushed against the back of my thighs with his search and my body was trembling when he pulled his hand back and triumphantly held the razor up in front of me.
"Now. Can you help me?"
"To shave?" I guessed hesitantly.
He nodded.
"You really trust me with that?" I grimaced. "I just cut myself on it just picking it up, and I also have a cut on my leg from-"
"Where?" he interrupted, already looking at me legs and running the hand that wasn't holding the razor up my shins, around the back to my calves.
I inhaled sharply. He had to stop doing that!
I grabbed a hold of his wrist, stopping his ministrations, and ignored the tingly feeling his self-conscious boyish grin created in me when he realized what he had done.
"Sorry."
"It'll heal, Max. It's one of the amazing functions of the human body."
"Yes," he whispered, making that one word loaded with double and triple meanings, before he held the razor up to me again. "I trust you with my life."
I hesitated for a second before giving in. My hand was shaking badly as I grabbed the razor from him, instantly making me regret that I had accepted. I was going to hurt him. I couldn't shave his face, shave down his neck, when shaking like this.
Max folded his hand over my shaking one and whispered, "Relax."
"I've never given anyone a shave before," I said as an excuse and he gave me a half grin before reaching for the shaving gel and lathering up his cheeks.
"There's always a first, Lizzie."
Not that I kept track, but that was the second time Max had called me by that nickname. The first time had been when he had been trying to get my attention to be able to form the connection with me. When I had wanted him to go back into a burning house and save my mom instead of saving me.
Maria was the one that usually called me 'Lizzie', but Sean had also used that nickname. Too many times. Coming out of his mouth, it had been taunting and cold. A way to make fun of me and make me feel like a little girl.
When Max said it, it was different. It rolled over his tongue like a caress. Like a sensual stroke of every syllable.
It made my heart beat an extra beat.
Because it made me think of all the firsts Max and I had already shared.
My cheeks felt incredibly hot when I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders as a show of confidence, and shifted my weight forward onto my knees.
He was watching me as I stared at his skin, trying to angle the razor correctly to not injure him. The first drag along his skin went without incident. So did the second. And the third.
Max angled his face to help me reach, not even looking nervous when he looked upwards, exposing his neck to me. My heart was thrumming hard in my chest the whole time, I was so afraid I would cut him.
Towards the end, my weak body started to notice the strain I was putting it through and I pressed my hand against his shoulder as my upper body wavered.
Without moving his head out of the 'shaving position', Max gently grabbed my waist with one of his hands, steadying me. The touch affected me deeply. On an emotional level. Fortunately, I could hide the tears that had formed in the stream of the water as I drew strength from his support and finished shaving him.
Without a single nick to his skin.
As I pulled back, he lowered his chin, bringing his eyes level with mine again. He caught the hand that was still gripping the razor painfully tight, made me release the shaving tool, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
I dropped my eyes, not wanting to feel. I didn't feel ready to let him in. To let him see who I had become. But he was making it really hard to resist. All I wanted to do was to blend with his warmth, his essence, his soul, and let him heal me. Mentally.
Still holding onto my hand, he uncurled my fingers and slowly placed a kiss to every five of my fingertips.
"You're skin is all wrinkly," he announced. "It's time to get out of the water."
I could already see that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So I let him help me to my feet and I remained standing next to him as he turned off the water. His hand holding tightly onto mine prevented me from stepping out of the stall without him.
Once we had exited - together - he found some big fluffy white towels under the sink and, quickly tying one over his hips, he unfolded the other one and held it up like a flag in front of me.
I was standing with my arms tightly wrapped across my chest, my skin glowing red from the temperature of the water and from the scrubbing, my legs bleeding and my body shivering from the air. I gratefully walked towards the towel and let Max wrap it around me, putting his arms around me and the towel once I was rolled up like a sausage.
My arms were captured in front of my chest, making the hug awkward, but Max didn't seem to mind. His body was warm as he circled his arms around me and put his nose very close in the crook of my neck.
The silence was loaded. Max's questions - the ones he probably wanted to ask, but didn't - were electrifying the space around us. Instead he remained silent and we breathed each other in, both smelling like coconut and lemongrass.
After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Do you think there's a toothbrush anywhere?"
"Oh God," he groaned against my skin. "We really need to find toothbrushes!"
This had me smiling. The first genuine smile in a really long time.
TBC...
Maybe...So we maybe getting some answers soon.
Thank you for the feedback!
L-J-L 76 - Thank you for the feedback!
mela3
Darn girl, you're making me blush.More, more! Great quality writing of characters with depth.
THANK you fadedblue
Color me speechless.
How is it that you lurkers - when you once in a blue moon peek out from that secretive lurkdom - have a tendency to leave the most eloquent, thoughtful, heart-warming, caring, beautiful feedback? Of course, in response to those rare and amazing visits, I'm hit with this desperate wish for you to always pop by and say "hello", but being something of a lurker myself I understand the difficulties in crossing that threshold to actually write something. All in all, I'm extremely happy that you wrote me "something". Even if "something" doesn't quite cover it.
This
made me laugh, because yes, it is a rabbit hole. I just never realizedI couldn't tell you what exactly made me click on your fic but enough curiosity was there to move the finger in place and well, I find myself hurled into the most marvelous rabbit hole EVER.
This
put the biggest, most ridiculous smile on my face and almost had me in tears. To be told that I'm a catalyst back to that amazing time of "Rosficdom" (which I truly truly miss) is... I have no words. Humbled. Flattered. Thank you. And I'm secretly so happy that I've managed to suck you in and hit your buttonsGirl, this fic gives me chills. Like, "have I just been transported back in time to the height of the Rosficdom?!" because this is the kind of amazingly written, twisty-turny, emotionally wrecking fics I remember from the heyday, the kind of story that turns the whole concept we love so elegantly on its head but stays so true to our characters that I just. Can't. Stop! And I'm not going to lie. It's been a longgggg time since I've been sucked into a deliciously dreamer centric fic, but ugh, you've tapped into my weakness, which happens to be a sexy, snarky high school Max paired with a mistrustful Liz, who soon realizes that hot playboy hunk isn't all he seems and is actually incredible, thoughtful, and amazing. And then they kick ass together and get into sci-fi-esque shenanigans within the context of an incredibly developed alternate mythology. I mean, your fic does WAY MORE than that, but you're hitting my buttons!
This
had me thinking; Oh God, she's a fast readerI'm not even going to attempt to leave any kind of meaningful feedback because I literally main lined your story in the course of a day and I'm just in fic junkie mode right now waiting for more
Do you know that you just read over 600 pages in 1 day Fast reader, you are.That warms my heart. So. Much. Thank you! And I hope that you stumble out of lurkdom more oftenBut know you have another huge fan over here
Seriously, thank you so much for your kind (and amazing) words! And welcome to the story
Eve (begonia9508)
*laughs* Yep, it's understandable, isn't it?Oh my! It is normal that Liz got confused with all, of what was happening!! With aliens who could change themselves in other people, in fraction of second, it is enough to get confused like hell!
Thank you, hunAnyway, every part is a challenge and I adore that! Thanks EVE
From SEVENTY:
We were touching upon his deepest fears again. Fears of being rejected. Fears of being feared - especially because of his origin. Especially because he loathed who he was. Where he came from. Even more now, considering what had happened. Considering what his race had just put me - us - through.
"Exactly," I replied, dropped my head and snuggled closer to him.
"I'll try," he whispered, brushing his hand through my hair.
In those thirteen seconds before Mr. Evans entered the room, things were as good as they could be (considering the situation). I was too occupied with the relief of being in Max's arms again, the relief of him being alive, that I didn't have any time to dwell on what I had been through.
All of that would soon come crashing down around me.
"Oh good, you're awake," Mr. Evans announced as a means of greeting as he stepped into the room.
I startled at the sudden voice, Max reflectively tightened his hold on me, and as the two traumatized teenagers that we were, our hearts flew off in adrenaline-spiked gallop rhythms before we realized that it was someone that could be trusted.
Mr. Evans had probably noticed our common flinch, because his voice was regretfully much softer and gentler as he added, "Let's get you up to speed."
____________________________________
I was tracing the thumb of his knuckle with my index finger. Sliding it around the top of his nail, wondering if they were short because he had chewed on them or if they had cut his nails while he was unconscious. There was dirt underneath them. No. Not dirt. Blood. Most likely his own. He had his own dried blood underneath his fingernails.
I twisted our interlocked hands, turning the back of his hand more towards me so that my free hand could continue to trace and explore his skin. To move over the bumps of his blue veins, to lightly brush over the plastic object taped to his skin, avoiding the plastic line that supplied his blood with fluid. And nutrition. Apparently, Max's father had been feeding us intravenously while we had been unconscious.
Apparently we both looked horrible. Haggard and gaunt. Malnourished and weak.
Max gave my hand a squeeze and I could feel his eyes on the top of my head. But I had blocked him out of the connection. Apparently, I was able to do this now. Without much effort. Max hadn't asked me about it yet, even though I was very certain that he had noticed. That he was hurting from it. Which wasn't my intention. I just needed to be alone. Alone with my thoughts.
Alex was seated on my other side, moving his eyes between Mr. Evans, the untouched soup in front of me and my face.
I guess my silence worried them.
Max's worry would be bulldozing me at the moment, if I hadn't been blocking him. I could tell, just from the way he sat really really close, from the tremors in his body, from the way his free hand was clenching and relaxing while resting on top of his thigh, and from the heat of his gaze.
He was paying about as much attention to this version of a debriefing we had ended up in as I was.
Mr. Evans was talking about Command. About a man named Dresden. About Mr. Guerin and Mr. Whitman. About the rupture of a society that had been in place since their arrival on Earth in 1947. About a community scattered and disorganized. About the change that had made this happen. Max and I. Our unusual bond. And me killing Sean and Steven.
About the rebellion that Max and I hadn't been too far off about in our speculations.
But I had stopped listening sometime after Mr. Evans had told me that they needed our help. They needed the strength of our bond. We needed to refine it, tap into its strength, and overthrow Command.
With that, the block in my mind had come naturally. Slammed down like black iron walls around my mind, cutting Max out. I hadn't been immune to his flinch as it had happened, or the way his hand had tightened around mine, or the fact that he was searching around my mind, gently tapping to get in. He didn't do it for long though, knowing what associations him trying to break into my mind might give me.
So he had, albeit unwillingly, allowed me to cut him out.
It was not really like it was an active choice. It must have been what my mind had needed. It was trying to protect itself. Because the block I had put up wasn't similar to the one Max used on me. His was usually one-way, preventing me from feeling him. While he could still read me perfectly fine. But my version was more like the one I had managed to do when Sean had assaulted me in the gym. Cutting off the bond at both ends.
But I knew that it was still there. I knew that I hadn't destroyed anything. I had learnt (the hard way) that not much could destroy this bond.
My thoughts moved uninhibited to Sean. To his blue eyes and his cold smile. To the feel of his hands around my throat as he had squeezed and squeezed-
I cleared my throat, effectively cutting off whatever Mr. Evans had been in the middle of saying, and got to my feet. "Excuse me."
Max tugged on my hand as I tried to release it. "Are you okay?"
I couldn't look into his eyes and see the worry that I could already hear in his voice. I knew that his eyes would affect me a great deal more than the tone of his voice. He was fairly good at controlling his voice. Not that good at controlling his eyes.
So my eyes were downcast as I mumbled, "I just need to go to the toilet."
"Okay," Mr. Evans said slowly. "We'll take a break then."
"No," I said quickly and looked at Max's father. He was looking at me very strangely and I briefly wondered what he was seeing.
Was I failing miserably at keeping my demons hidden?
"Don't mind me; Max will fill me in later," I whispered. It was not like I had heard much of it up until now anyway.
Max squeezed my hand before letting it go. "You need help?"
"I'll show you where it is," Alex offered and took my hand without preamble.
I bit back on the instinct to pull my hand away and fluttered a brief smile in his direction. I didn't actually know where the toilet was. "Sure. Thanks."
I let him lead me out of the room and out the hallway, Max's eyes heating down my back at my exit.
I was incredibly aware of Alex's gaze on my profile as he helped me down the corridor. "How are you holding up?"
A wave of annoyance ran through me. "You tell me."
His eyes left my face and his confession was quiet. "Actually, I can't read you."
That's because I've blocked myself off.
"How could you before?" I asked, stopping when he did, in front of a door.
He pushed the door open and reached around the doorframe to switch on the lights. The white bathroom reflected the white light, making it sting my eyes.
"I mean, neither Sean nor the Sergeant could break into my mind. At least not my emotional part. Not even Command could do that. So how could you? How could you help me earlier?" My voice had gone from bitter to soft, as my gratitude for how he had helped me earlier shone through and overrode my dark feelings.
He leaned against the doorframe and didn't acknowledge when I pulled my hand out of his. He kept his eyes locked with mine and said solemnly, almost sounding a bit sad. "I don't go through your mind. I go through your heart."
I frowned. Whatever did that mean? As far as biology had taught me, feelings were produced in the brain. It was only humans' romantic notions that insisted on describing how your heart was broken when a relationship ended or how you could be afflicted by a heavy heart.
Seeing the confusion on my face, Alex aimed to illustrate, "I can't really explain it. Feelings originate in the brain, but they resonate through your whole body. You can hold sorrow in your chest, your back gets tight from fear, you can even have phantom feelings in limbs that don't even exist anymore." He shrugged. "Yes, it all goes back and forth to the brain for processing, but your whole body sends out emotions. In waves."
"Like colors," I whispered, thinking of Max. Thinking of myself and what the connection had started to make me see.
Alex looked surprised. "Yeah. Exactly like that. And my ability translates them, makes me feel them. Makes me able to affect them. But I never go into your mind. Affecting your feelings on a 'bodily' level will still feed back into your mind, like a positive feedback loop. But your mind still has the option of 'putting its foot down' and shutting it off. If you, say, don't believe in that emotion."
It made me feel more positive about Alex's powers. To know that his powers essentially weren't messing with anyone's mind was a relief. It also explained why he had been so against telling me about himself, in the off-chance that I might react badly and he would have to attempt erasing my mind. He probably didn't have much experience with 'messing' with someone's mind.
I was so deep in thought, that I forgot to speak, so Alex continued, hesitantly, "But I can't feel you now. There's no..." he slowly licked his lips giving him time, maybe to choose his words carefully, "...colors around you."
"Yeah," I said sadly, without elaborating.
That felt about accurate. I had no colors anymore.
"Did something happen? Between you and Max? I could reach you this morning."
I sighed and shook my head to repudiate his questions. "It's just a bit too overwhelming. I just needed a break."
I realized that my answer probably gave him more questions than answers. For once, let the aliens wonder what the human did. What her powers are.
I took a step into the bathroom and produced a weak smile. "Thank you, Alex."
"I'll wait outside," he replied.
"You don't have-" I started, but he shook his head firmly.
"I'll wait outside."
I could see that he was being serious and that I probably wouldn't be able to persuade him to do otherwise. Not that I wanted to put any energy into that. There were tougher battles to save my energy for.
Instead, I nodded and closed the door.
My hands were shaking as I walked up to the toilet. The whiteness of the bathroom reminded me of another bathroom. Where I had tried to hide. Where I had been pushed up against a wall.
It was even similar to the bathroom in which I had seen my mother's blood stain the floor.
It was a struggle to pull my pants and panties down, my nerves were weakening my hands. I hid my face in my hands as I forced my body to relax enough on the toilet seat that I could actually empty my bladder.
Flushing, I stepped in front of the sink - and the mirror - and stilled. I met the dark eyes of a young woman. With protruding cheekbones and a darkness under the eyes that were making even her eyes seem to stick out. The hair was a matted mess, having gone past the oily phase and entered the tangled phase. If I leaned in closer, I could see brown-reddish flakes in parts of the hair.
Max had blood under his fingernails, I had blood in my hair.
I looked at the cracks in my lips, ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling the absence of a toothbrush, and saw the sharpness of my collarbones and the front of my shoulders jut out above the hem of the shirt.
I thought I would be all cried out by now, but still, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I cried for the girl that had died in that room. For her innocence. For her happiness.
I cried because I had been stupid. Standing in front of the mirror now, I quite clearly remembered standing in front of the mirror just three weeks earlier, before going on a date with Max. Before I had lost my virginity. I remember how I had been ashamed of my body then. How I had picked myself apart in light of my scrutiny and analyzed the different parts through the eyes of society.
Looking at me now, I wished that I could go back and talk some sense into that girl. Because she had been unaware of how beautiful she had been. She had been unaware even when she had later seen herself through his eyes. Even when he had seen her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had never let herself believe. Not really.
But I wondered what he saw now. I wondered if Max was as saddened and disgusted by my appearance as I was. I wondered if he missed that beautiful girl I had actually been not too long ago. If he regretted ever bonding with me considering how I had turned out.
Obviously, I had not succeeded in remaining that strong girl he had seen during the course of my upbringing. The one he had admired and respected. When push came to shove, I had crumbled.
The sobs I was holding back - the hollow deep sobs - pulled on the inside of my chest, and the feeling was painful. I was glad then that my mind had decided to utilize what it was learning from the connection and block Max. I was glad that he couldn't feel the wreck I had become.
I was ashamed of myself.
Was this how he felt? Max? Was this how it felt to loathe yourself?
I felt unclean. On so many levels. For so many different reasons.
I could still feel Sean's hands on me. Even the Sergeant's, as he dug his fingers into my thighs, and his closeness when he showed me exactly how he had raped my mother.
The panic was building, tightening my chest, and I frantically started to look around me. There was a shower stall in the corner of the bathroom and my eyes stopped there, looking at it longingly.
It didn't matter that the others at the 'meeting' might be waiting for me. I needed to take a shower.
So with a desperate semi-suppressed sob, I started pulling on doors to cabinets to find products. Anything that would make me clean. In the midst of my agony, I was almost ridiculously happy to find not only shampoo and conditioner, but also shaving cream and a razor.
I was inside the shower stall in seconds, turning the dials to hot and going back to my old habit of scolding myself. To feel. And this time, to become clean. Even if it meant that some layers of skin had to come off.
It felt glorious. The water - although too hot for my skin - soothed my body, flowed gently around the sharp corners of my bones and washed away several days of dirt. I lathered and washed my hair and then repeated. Seven times. I couldn't get clean enough. My arms were aching from the scrubbing, from repeatedly running my hands through my hair to get it clean. But I didn't notice.
Feeling better about my hair, I sank to the floor of the stall, my legs not holding me up any longer. I sat down and stretched both legs out in front of me, applying a generous amount of shaving gel and then commenced shaving my legs.
The task calmed my mind, made me focus on something. As if hypnotized, I angled my head to the side to be able to follow the movements of the razor as I moved it over the bumps and straight lines of my legs.
Until I cut myself. The blood - the very red and clear blood - made my breath hitch and I had to close my eyes at the sight. But closing my eyes made it worse. Behind closed eyelids were images of Max's chest - covered in blood. So I opened them again, took a deep breath, and switched to my other leg, ignoring the blood that was swirling into the drain. It eventually stopped and I could finish shaving the first leg. I finished off by shaving my armpits before I grabbed the shower gel and started rinsing through my whole body. I had found a bath sponge in one of the cabinets and I took full use of it.
My newly shaved skin didn't appreciate the combination of extremely hot water and the frantic rub of a sponge, breaking the external pinkish layer of my skin up into small bleeding wounds. But it didn't stop me. I needed to get clean.
I heard him calling me through the door a couple of times, but I didn't respond. I needed to get this done.
I guess that's why he finally entered the room and was suddenly standing outside the shower stall.
I screamed as the shadow fell over me, my heart in my throat. If the connection had been open, I would have known it was him, felt him approach, but there was no warning (except him calling my name repeatedly through the door, of course) that he would suddenly be standing there.
I inhaled sharply as he opened the door and I breathed, "Don't do that."
"I called for you," Max said slowly, his eyes trailing over my hunched up body. I curled in on myself even tighter, not wanting him to look at me.
"I'll be right out," I whispered. "Please leave."
There was obvious pain in his eyes and he barely got the words out. "What have you done? You've hurt yourself."
I dropped my eyes, staring at my pulled up knees. "I need to get clean."
He didn't say anything, but the unspoken words were burning through his gaze. The one that was still looking me over.
"I'll be right out," I repeated through tight lips. Would he stop staring at me?
I heard the rustling of clothes and looked up at him, seeing that he was pulling his shirt over his head.
"What are you doing?" I asked fearfully.
"I'm joining you," Max answered plainly.
No. No. He would touch me. He would see me.
He pushed his sweatpants down his legs. "I really need a shower too."
"Just give me a minute and it's all yours," I tried.
"No," he answered, giving me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. Admonishment? Anger? Concern?
"Please, Max," I whispered, pleading with him. Didn't he get that he was making it worse?
I bit my lip as he pulled his boxers down and I could fully see the changes to his body. How thin he had become. The faint discoloration in different places on his body (why hadn't his father healed them? Maybe he didn't have had the energy to?) and the bones that were protruding in familiar places, like those on my own body.
He didn't let me look at him for long before he stepped into the shower, carefully stepping around my seated curled-up body. It was not a big shower stall.
"Do you have any shampoo?" he asked naturally. As if he wasn't standing over me all naked, reaching his hand down towards me.
I tried to find somewhere to place my gaze where he wasn't and nodded. "But it's for girls, I think. Coconut." Stating a detail that didn't really matter.
"Coconut is fine," he told me softly and accepted the bottle.
Even though I tried to look away, my eyes kept drifting towards him. Watching the muscles move underneath his skin with each scrub through his hair. Watching the V-shape of his back, the hairiness of the back of his thighs as he turned into the stream of the water, leaning against the wall with one hand pressed against it and his eyes closed.
He didn't wash his hair several times. Only twice. And I was a bit disappointed that he didn't. Not because I felt that he wasn't clean enough, but because it was nice to watch him do it. It was so normal, so routine. I thought about how many times he had done this in his lifetime. How he probably would have done it the exact same way every time after finding a routine that worked for him. This was a part of Max that I didn't get to see. The things he did several times a week - out of necessity.
"Shower gel?" he asked and I blushed when I noticed that he was looking at me, most likely having caught me staring at him.
"Yeah," I said and held the bottle up for him.
"Thanks," he mumbled and began to lather up his body.
A warmth was spreading out through my whole body watching him. It was not because of the temperature of the water - which Max had lowered when he stepped in by they way - nor was it necessarily a sexual thing. It was the warmth of normalcy, of belonging, of being trusted with seeing him like this. Because he had been hurt just like me. Vulnerable and exposed. Robbed of his dignity.
I briefly wondered if he was doing this for me, making a point out of showering with me, or if it had just been a matter of convenience.
"Do you have a razor?"
Yep. He had caught me staring again. This time he was smiling at me and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch in a smile that wanted to get out, but couldn't quite.
I nodded and fumbled for the razor which had traveled in the the stream of water and ended up somewhere under my pulled-up legs.
"Scoot over," his voice said over my head when I was feeling for the razor.
I looked up at him in surprise and found him taking a seat next to me on the floor of the stall, pushing the side of his lower body up against mine (there really wasn't a lot of space in there - especially not for two seated people) to gently move me to make room for him.
"Max..." I started to protest, not sure what I wanted to say or what I was objecting to.
"I need your help," he said, looking me straight in the eyes.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered, the expression in his eyes doing things to me. Adult things.
"Did you find it?" he asked, not looking away.
My eyes moved to his lips and I unconsciously licked my own as the water from the shower rained over us. I looked up into his eyes, watching water collect into big droplets on his eyelashes before they got too big and lost their grip.
"The razor," he clarified, pulling me back to reality.
"Yeah," I breathed, even though I hadn't found it yet, and quickly searched underneath me.
Finding it, I accidentally slid my finger along the sharp end, making a deep cut in the tip of my index finger.
"Ow." I snapped my hand away from the sharp object and put the finger in my mouth.
"Let me see," Max said quietly, already reaching for my hand.
I let him curl his fingers around the palm of my hand and gently pull my hand away from my mouth, my finger away from my lips. I watched him closely as he looked at my finger and suddenly it hit me how alone I felt without the connection. How much I, right now, had to rely on his actions and my own senses to get an idea of what he was feeling and thinking.
Because even though I could see the warmth with which he was touching my hand, I couldn't feel it.
He closed his hand over my finger, the small sting disappearing, his incredible warmth filled my finger and brushed against the top of my palm, before it was gone.
"Thank you," I mumbled, embarrassed about having hurt myself.
Before I had the chance to react, he had released my hand and was searching with his hand across the floor underneath my legs. "Let me get it."
My breath froze in anticipation as his arm repeatedly brushed against the back of my thighs with his search and my body was trembling when he pulled his hand back and triumphantly held the razor up in front of me.
"Now. Can you help me?"
"To shave?" I guessed hesitantly.
He nodded.
"You really trust me with that?" I grimaced. "I just cut myself on it just picking it up, and I also have a cut on my leg from-"
"Where?" he interrupted, already looking at me legs and running the hand that wasn't holding the razor up my shins, around the back to my calves.
I inhaled sharply. He had to stop doing that!
I grabbed a hold of his wrist, stopping his ministrations, and ignored the tingly feeling his self-conscious boyish grin created in me when he realized what he had done.
"Sorry."
"It'll heal, Max. It's one of the amazing functions of the human body."
"Yes," he whispered, making that one word loaded with double and triple meanings, before he held the razor up to me again. "I trust you with my life."
I hesitated for a second before giving in. My hand was shaking badly as I grabbed the razor from him, instantly making me regret that I had accepted. I was going to hurt him. I couldn't shave his face, shave down his neck, when shaking like this.
Max folded his hand over my shaking one and whispered, "Relax."
"I've never given anyone a shave before," I said as an excuse and he gave me a half grin before reaching for the shaving gel and lathering up his cheeks.
"There's always a first, Lizzie."
Not that I kept track, but that was the second time Max had called me by that nickname. The first time had been when he had been trying to get my attention to be able to form the connection with me. When I had wanted him to go back into a burning house and save my mom instead of saving me.
Maria was the one that usually called me 'Lizzie', but Sean had also used that nickname. Too many times. Coming out of his mouth, it had been taunting and cold. A way to make fun of me and make me feel like a little girl.
When Max said it, it was different. It rolled over his tongue like a caress. Like a sensual stroke of every syllable.
It made my heart beat an extra beat.
Because it made me think of all the firsts Max and I had already shared.
My cheeks felt incredibly hot when I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders as a show of confidence, and shifted my weight forward onto my knees.
He was watching me as I stared at his skin, trying to angle the razor correctly to not injure him. The first drag along his skin went without incident. So did the second. And the third.
Max angled his face to help me reach, not even looking nervous when he looked upwards, exposing his neck to me. My heart was thrumming hard in my chest the whole time, I was so afraid I would cut him.
Towards the end, my weak body started to notice the strain I was putting it through and I pressed my hand against his shoulder as my upper body wavered.
Without moving his head out of the 'shaving position', Max gently grabbed my waist with one of his hands, steadying me. The touch affected me deeply. On an emotional level. Fortunately, I could hide the tears that had formed in the stream of the water as I drew strength from his support and finished shaving him.
Without a single nick to his skin.
As I pulled back, he lowered his chin, bringing his eyes level with mine again. He caught the hand that was still gripping the razor painfully tight, made me release the shaving tool, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
I dropped my eyes, not wanting to feel. I didn't feel ready to let him in. To let him see who I had become. But he was making it really hard to resist. All I wanted to do was to blend with his warmth, his essence, his soul, and let him heal me. Mentally.
Still holding onto my hand, he uncurled my fingers and slowly placed a kiss to every five of my fingertips.
"You're skin is all wrinkly," he announced. "It's time to get out of the water."
I could already see that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. So I let him help me to my feet and I remained standing next to him as he turned off the water. His hand holding tightly onto mine prevented me from stepping out of the stall without him.
Once we had exited - together - he found some big fluffy white towels under the sink and, quickly tying one over his hips, he unfolded the other one and held it up like a flag in front of me.
I was standing with my arms tightly wrapped across my chest, my skin glowing red from the temperature of the water and from the scrubbing, my legs bleeding and my body shivering from the air. I gratefully walked towards the towel and let Max wrap it around me, putting his arms around me and the towel once I was rolled up like a sausage.
My arms were captured in front of my chest, making the hug awkward, but Max didn't seem to mind. His body was warm as he circled his arms around me and put his nose very close in the crook of my neck.
The silence was loaded. Max's questions - the ones he probably wanted to ask, but didn't - were electrifying the space around us. Instead he remained silent and we breathed each other in, both smelling like coconut and lemongrass.
After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Do you think there's a toothbrush anywhere?"
"Oh God," he groaned against my skin. "We really need to find toothbrushes!"
This had me smiling. The first genuine smile in a really long time.
TBC...
Last edited by max and liz believer on Fri Jul 07, 2017 3:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Roswelllostcause
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1992
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Motown
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 70, 1/30/16, p. 59
Liz really needs to talk about what happened to her. She may not have been raped but she was assluted.
Helen
Thanks for reminding I got to run to the store for shampoo. Lol!
Helen
Thanks for reminding I got to run to the store for shampoo. Lol!
Check out my Author page for a list of my fics!
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 71, 1/31/16, p. 60
Great Chapter!!!! Please please please please please please please please please please please come back and post more really really really really soon? I can't wait to find out what will happen next for Max and Liz. Poor Max and Liz they have a lot to take in. Glad that Max and Liz are there for each other no matter what. Hopefully Max and Liz will tell each other what they have been going through. And hopefully Max and Liz will be able to get through everything they have been through together.
From:
L-J-L 76
From:
L-J-L 76
-
begonia9508
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1125
- Joined: Sat Nov 17, 2001 2:37 am
- Location: Somewhere lost in chocolat Land
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 71, 1/31/16, p. 60
Really great part again! Especially because I am happy that things are slowly getting better for Max and Liz! Once they discuss together about what Liz did and saved them, I am quite sure that everything will go better!
Wo wouldn't be schocked, after having gone through what she has? But in the end, she saved Max and her life...
THanks loved it! EVE
Wo wouldn't be schocked, after having gone through what she has? But in the end, she saved Max and her life...
THanks loved it! EVE
- Les jouissances de l'esprit sont faites pour calmer les orages du coeur!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
- On reconnaît le bonheur au bruit qu'il fait quand il s'en va!
- L'amour vous rend aveugle et le mariage vous redonne la vue!
-
max and liz believer
- Obsessed Roswellian
- Posts: 822
- Joined: Sat Sep 28, 2002 10:45 am
- Location: Sweden
- Contact:
SEVENTY-TWO
Helen (Roswelllostcause)
Thank you for the feedback!
Natalie36 - Thank you
L-J-L 76
Thank you for the feedback!
Eve (begonia9508)
Like you say, it's important for their recovery.
Thank you for the feedback!
From SEVENTY-ONE:
I was standing with my arms tightly wrapped across my chest, my skin glowing red from the temperature of the water and from the scrubbing, my legs bleeding and my body shivering from the air. I gratefully walked towards the towel and let Max wrap it around me, putting his arms around me and the towel once I was rolled up like a sausage.
My arms were captured in front of my chest, making the hug awkward, but Max didn't seem to mind. His body was warm as he circled his arms around me and put his nose very close in the crook of my neck.
The silence was loaded. Max's questions - the ones he probably wanted to ask, but didn't - were electrifying the space around us. Instead he remained silent and we breathed each other in, both smelling like coconut and lemongrass.
After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Do you think there's a toothbrush anywhere?"
"Oh God," he groaned against my skin. "We really need to find toothbrushes!"
This had me smiling. The first genuine smile in a really long time.
SEVENTY-TWO
I was waiting for Max to return. We had been moved to a room with a queen-sized bed, because the adults had quickly realized that we wouldn't be leaving each others' sides. Considering the plan that Max's father had informed us of, it seemed that it was in their interest to keep us close. To strengthen our connection.
I didn't even bother to consider the fact that they had let two 16-year-olds sleep in the same bed together, and that with the knowledge of what we had been up to before (to create the double bond). I guess these were extenuating circumstances. Or maybe they had realized that we would only feel safe and heal if we were close to each other. They never even attempted to separate us.
Of course, it would help if I wasn't blocking the connection. Which was what Max and his father where fighting about right now. I knew, because they were only next door, and they were not using their inside voices.
Mr. Evans was frustrated because Max had just told him that I was blocking the connection. He was wondering how Max could let that happen, if Max really didn't know how much a connection would help me in the current situation and that I needed it now more than ever. Max was yelling back, angry with his father because he clearly couldn't see how much I was hurting, how distant I was, how sharing a connection right now might overwhelm me and how he didn't want to push me.
I pulled the duvet over my head and pushed my hands over my ears as they started arguing about my eating habits. Or the lack thereof. How Max wanted me to have a free choice of what I wanted to eat and how that might help me get my appetite up, when Mr. Evans kept throwing medical facts about the need to slowly get a starved body used to food, through small amounts of easily digestible soups.
I began singing to myself (a desperate off-key noise) to drown out the noise further when my hands weren't enough and completely failed to hear someone enter my room.
But the person was careful enough to say my name repeatedly as she approached the bed and hence didn't scare me.
She pulled the duvet back, revealing my face as my hands slowly slid away from my ears. I registered Max's screamed objections through the wall against having me fight their fight, fight for their race, before I took in Diane's open face looking at me.
It was the first time she had come to visit. The first time I had seen her since she had begged me to take care of her son (something I had failed to do) on the eve of the meeting.
"Oh," she got out before she started crying.
Her tears pierced my heart and I felt myself crumbling in response to her maternal concern and love. No one had cried so openly for me before. Not even my father.
"You poor girl," she whispered and brushed a hand through my newly washed hair, tucking it gently behind my ear as she sank down on the bed.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, wiping at my tears as her own flowed unhindered down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."
I squeezed my lips tightly together, but couldn't avert my eyes from her.
"How are you?" she asked and I bit hard into my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming.
Because it felt like there was something inside of me that needed to get out. That needed to be loud and almost destructive. Rather than calm and accepting.
Instead I said nothing.
Her eyes turned hesitant, the same look a lot of people around me had been giving me lately. Unsure of how to treat me. Walking on eggshells. "Can I hug you?"
It felt better than I thought it would, that someone actually asked for permission. So I had no problem giving it. Nodding slowly, she gave me a soft smile before leaning over me and pulling me up into her embrace.
It felt very natural to wrap my arms around her and let her hold me close. Her smell was unfamiliar to me (somewhat flowery), her embrace equally so, but still there was something very recognizable about her touch. About her concern.
She pulled back and pulled a napkin out of the front pocket of her jeans, wiping her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. "Look at me. Making a mess out of myself."
"Welcome to the club," I said quietly, not a single trace of humor on my face.
She looked at me perplexed for a second, before a smile broke out over her lips. Chuckling softly to herself, she put the napkin away. "Thank you."
"Have you seen Max yet?" I found myself asking, still worrying about him. He was still my highest priority. I'm sure he was missing his mother. I'm sure she was missing him. He would probably love to see her.
She shook her head, hitching it towards the wall with a grimace, "I can hear that he's awake now, but he was asleep when I saw him last."
"Right," I said. "Don't you want to see him?"
"Actually," Diane smiled at me, "I want to talk to you. Is that okay?"
I briefly considered my alternate choice: blocking out the Evans men's argument about me. It was not a hard decision to make. Especially since I didn't mind spending time in Diane's company.
"Sure," I replied and to my surprise watched Diane climb onto the bed, move around me and sit down next to me. She crossed her legs in front of her, looking like she belonged, and gave me a relaxed smile.
"I want to be honest with you," Diane said, making me instantly on the alert.
What did that mean? What horrible news was she about to bring me?
"Can I be honest with you?" Diane asked.
I nodded, looking at her with wide frightened eyes.
"I want to tell you my story." There was a nervous tremble to her voice. "Because I want you to know that you're not alone, Liz. That you can always come to me if you have questions. About anything. Their abilities. Their emotions. The connection. Sex."
I blushed and dropped my eyes, but her words warmed me. I might never take her up on her offer, I might be too embarrassed to, but it meant a lot that she offered.
She didn't wait for me to say anything, instead filling the awkward moment with, "Our stories will differ, but fundamentally we're both humans brought into an alien society, an alien world. And sometimes you need someone to talk to. Someone that has shared the same experiences." She paused and gave me a weak smile. "There were times I really needed someone to talk to, but I could never confide in anyone. When I married Philip, I lost all of my human friends. We lost contact. I didn't know what to tell them any longer and it became too complicated. So I decided to just let them go."
I thought of Maria and my stomach twisted.
"I met Philip at the hospital." She stared off into the air, her eyes taking on a distant expression. "He was so handsome. Dark and mysterious. Many girls were charmed by him. But he was also distant. Difficult to get close to. He was a resident at the time and I was just volunteering."
She gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged, "You know, changing bed pans, taking out the trash, doing some administrative work. In my time I was called a candy striper." She shook her head, lost in memories. "I was so young. So naïve."
"I didn't know it at the time, but Philip had had his eyes on me for awhile. I never in a million years thought someone like him would be interested in me, so I barely dared to look at him. Whenever a doctor would walk into a room, I tried to keep to myself, not make any noise, trying not to disturb them."
I was hanging onto her every word, picturing the hospital environment she had worked in, picturing her red-and-white-striped uniform and a younger dark-haired Philip Evans.
Diane cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "One day he approached me. Asked if I wanted to help out with a study he was doing. Said he needed a sample of my blood."
A shiver ran down my spine, my mouth going dry.
Diane laughed embarrassed. "Of course I didn't say no. I was honored. Flattered." She sighed. "After that, he started courting me. We went on a couple of dates." She shook her head. "I couldn't believe my luck. That someone like him would want to date me."
I was wondering what Mr. Evans had wanted with her blood, but I couldn't interrupt. I was sure that Diane would tell me eventually.
"He was the first man I had sex with," Diane declared and my first feeling was not embarrassment at her honesty, but solidarity at the realization that I was not the only one to share my first sexual experience with an alien.
Diane glanced at me before looking down at her hands as she continued, "I didn't really have anything to compare it to, considering that I had no prior experience." She looked at me, searched my face momentarily. "I hope it's okay that I'm being this frank with you."
"It's..." I had to stop to clear my throat. I had listened to her so intently that I had forgotten how to speak. "It's okay."
What else should I say? That I was really grateful that she was sharing this with me? Because I was. But I wasn't courageous enough to admit it.
Diane smiled, "Okay," took a deep breath and continued, "The sex was...amazing. I had never felt anything like it. Philip wasn't overly attentive to me, but the feelings... It was as if I was feeling what he was feeling while I was experiencing it."
Heat crept up my neck and cheeks, and I had to turn my face away as her words resonate too intimately with my own experiences.
Her eyes brushed over my profile, but didn't comment on my reaction. "Of course, I didn't know anything about who he really was at that point. I didn't know that we had just formed a connection. I just thought that we had a real connection. You know, a real human connection. That we were in tune with each other." She took a deep breath. "I was already in love with him, but I fell even harder after that. I was convinced that he was the man for me. That we were soulmates. Shortly thereafter, I found out that I was pregnant."
"You..?" I gasped.
Diane looked embarrassed. "Yes. We had been a bit careless with protection, I'm afraid. But I understood later that it had been a completely deliberate decision on my husband's side. He's not the type of person that wouldn't keep track of something like that."
I thought of Max and all the condoms he had brought to the house in Hondo. The memory held a touch of bittersweetness. Of course Mr. Evans wouldn't forget protection. Of course it had been 'planned'. But for what reason?
Diane turned around in her seat to face me more fully and made sure to catch my eyes before she said, "I want you to understand that my husband is not a bad man. But it might seem that way from what I'm about to tell you." She grimaced. "Max has always had trouble swallowing that detail. He wasn't even supposed to know about it, but he overheard it during one of my and Philip's...'discussions'."
Right. I thought back to Max's reaction when I had asked if his mother had married his father voluntarily. How something had seemed off about his reply. Maybe I would finally find out the reason why.
"The ability that Philip has - the same ability that Max has inherited - is very rare. I'm sure you know of this by now."
I nodded quietly. Oh yes.
"Philip was under a lot of pressure to have a child with the healing trait. But it isn't just simply passed on to the child of a healer only because the father is a healer. The mother must be compatible. Have the right genetic code to produce that child."
My eyes widened in horror. No... It couldn't be. "You're a gaea?"
Diane gave me a sad smile, almost as if she had wished she was, just so that she could have shouldered that burden with me. "No, sweetheart."
"But...you...?" I was confused.
"It's just simple genetics. Like you have a higher chance of having a child with blue eyes if both you and your significant other have blue eyes."
"Right," I mumbled, both feeling comforted and disappointed that she wasn't like me. That she wasn't like my mom. I looked at her and whispered, "That's why he needed your blood?"
Diane nodded.
"Is that why he chose you?" I asked, a sad twinge in my heart. "Because of your blood?"
She looked away for a brief moment before meeting my sad eyes. "He would never admit to it out loud, but yes. I'm almost completely positive he did. I was not the only girl in his 'study'."
"But you were the only one he dated?"
"Yes," Diane nodded. "As far as I know. I was the one with the most compatible genetics. The one most likely to produce a child with the healing trait."
"And if you hadn't?" I asked, wondering if the answer to that question was the reason Max had reacted to, or if it had been because his father hadn't fallen in love, but instead had chosen his mother for purely genetic reasons.
Diane hesitated before she stated quietly, "He would have made sure that I aborted."
I felt myself go pale, the feelings about the alien race too close to the surface, too easily brought forward. The concept that there might be so much these aliens had already done to humans that I didn't know about made me weak with fear, and nausea rose in my throat.
This is what Max had been upset about. This is what he hadn't approved of.
"But you were pregnant with Max and Isabel, right?" I asked faintly. "And Max had the healing trait."
Diane nodded. She was looking at me closely, probably having noted my reaction. "And considering that he would let me go through with the pregnancy and what could happen during alien pregnancies, he had to tell me about his origins. Had to marry me."
I bit my lip. "And that wasn't something he wanted?" He had picked her out, after all. Like some genetic experiment.
"He was afraid I would run. Run with his children. Or even harm the fetuses. Want them out of me." She looked me straight in the eyes and added, "But I could never do that. Quite early on I formed a connection to them. That's what happens. You feel their presence in your mind, in your body. Sadly, it disappears once they are born."
I considered what she had said for a quiet moment before tentatively asking, "Do you love him?"
Diane nodded. "Yes. I always have. Even when he told me the truth. Even when he didn't seem to love me."
My heart ached for her and I couldn't help but compare her story to mine and Max's. How Max had gone against every alien protocol there was just because he had prioritized love. No wonder there was tension between him and his dad. Philip Evans hadn't been allowed to choose his partner out of love; he had been forced to choose a suitable genetic mate to ensure that his special trait was carried on. Potentially sacrificing his own happiness to ensure the success of the alien community.
"Does he love you now?" I hoped I wasn't overstepping any invisible borders by asking, but Diane didn't seem offended.
She offered me a soft smile. A secretive smile. "Yes. Very much. We have grown very close over the years. Philip has grown into himself. And I think our children has helped a lot. Just the fact that they are both very emotional, very emphatic. They have thrown him more curveballs and eye-openers than he ever could have anticipated. Maybe that's why he eventually started loving me for real. Because he gradually became more human."
I didn't want to ask what it was like to be with an alien. Because Mr. Evans was a pure alien, after all. To not have someone understand your emotions, to be unable to show emotions.
We heard the door slam next door, shaking the wall we were leaning our backs up against, before moments later Max walked through the door.
He was upset. Really upset. I could practically see it vibrate off his body.
But seeing his mother seated next to me on the bed briefly interrupted his distress. "Mom?"
Diane grew teary-eyed again, which warmed my heart. It was nice to see that someone other than me could cry so much. I felt a bit sorry for Max, though, when a softly sobbing Diane climbed off the bed and walked up to her son.
Poor Max was surrounded by crying women.
"Max," Diane whispered and put her arms around her son.
Max looked confused as he returned his mother's hug. He was looking at me over his mother's shoulder, silently asking me if everything was okay. I managed a small smile for him.
Max returned it before he pulled back and kissed his mother on the cheek. "What are you doing here, Mom?"
"I was talking to Liz," Diane answered and gave me a warm smile over her shoulder. "She needed to listen to something else than you and your father dictating her life."
Max flushed, looking both contrite and angry. "We weren't dict-"
"I'm not the one you need to convince," Diane interrupted and Max looked worried as he glanced at me.
"What have you been talking about?" he asked suspiciously.
"Life, love, sex," Diane answered good-naturedly and laughed as Max's face turned red.
I, too, found it quite amusing actually. The possibilities of what Diane and I might have discussed were endless. Enough to make Max nervous.
"I'm so happy to have you back," Diane said and pulled Max into another hug. I watched Max's face return to normal face color and his face relaxed. It was beautiful to watch, the love Max had for his mother.
"I'm happy to be back," Max said quietly, his statement heavy with unspoken confessions about his time in captivity.
"He was doing his best to help you, you know," Diane said, referring to Max's father.
Max took a deep breath, his eyes hardening as he pulled away from his mother. Apparently, her statement brought back the irritation he had been carrying while entering the room.
"When he should have been helping her," Max said, not looking at me but it was no secret who he was referring to.
"He couldn't get to her," Diane tried to meddle. "I'm sure he's told you that. He tried his best to keep you strong so that you could protect her."
"Well," Max said tightly. "He should have tried harder."
"Max..." Diane said slowly.
"No, Mom, you know what?" Max voice rose in biting anger. "Do you have any idea what almost happened to her? What they almost did? What they did do?"
Diane looked back at me worriedly, but I had already dropped my head, averted my eyes, and was slowly crawling back inside my mind.
"I..." Diane whispered at a loss of words.
"Exactly!" Max practically shouted and I squeezed my eyes closed at the sound. I didn't like when he yelled. I didn't like when he yelled at his mother.
"You don't know! Not even I know, because she won't let me in! They hurt her so much that she's cut me out!"
"Please stop," I whispered.
No one heard me.
"I'm really sorry about that, Max, but if you would just lis-"
"No," Max refuted. "No, I'm done listening. Now you listen to me. Dad wants to take her out on a battlefield. He wants to risk her life - again - for a cause that has only hurt her."
"I'm sure he doesn't mean it like-"
"Please stop," I said, louder this time, pressing my hands to my ears.
"She's in there somewhere, but I'm afraid of what will happen if we force her to fight. If they use us like that-"
"Stooop!" I screamed, effectively cutting off all heated discussions in the room.
I don't know how they reacted. Don't know if they were looking at each other or even if they exchanged any words. I heard nothing behind the hands pressed to my ears.
But not many seconds passed until I felt the bed dip next to me and his hands grab my upper arms, gently pulling me onto his lap. I deflated against him, my knees sliding to the sides of his hips and my face buried into his chest.
His hands were moving soothingly up and down my spine, threading through my hair, and back to my back again. In a slow pattern of regret.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry."
I wished for a time when he wouldn't have to be sorry anymore. When he wouldn't have to apologize to me.
TBC...
...and beaten and threatened... Yes, this is going to leave some scars and both of them have to talk about it. Eventually.Liz really needs to talk about what happened to her. She may not have been raped but she was assluted.
*laughs* OkayThanks for reminding I got to run to the store for shampoo. Lol!
Thank you for the feedback!
Natalie36 - Thank you
L-J-L 76
HopefullyAnd hopefully Max and Liz will be able to get through everything they have been through together.
Thank you for the feedback!
Eve (begonia9508)
They need to talkOnce they discuss together about what Liz did and saved them, I am quite sure that everything will go better!
Like you say, it's important for their recovery.Thank you for the feedback!
From SEVENTY-ONE:
I was standing with my arms tightly wrapped across my chest, my skin glowing red from the temperature of the water and from the scrubbing, my legs bleeding and my body shivering from the air. I gratefully walked towards the towel and let Max wrap it around me, putting his arms around me and the towel once I was rolled up like a sausage.
My arms were captured in front of my chest, making the hug awkward, but Max didn't seem to mind. His body was warm as he circled his arms around me and put his nose very close in the crook of my neck.
The silence was loaded. Max's questions - the ones he probably wanted to ask, but didn't - were electrifying the space around us. Instead he remained silent and we breathed each other in, both smelling like coconut and lemongrass.
After a few minutes, I mumbled, "Do you think there's a toothbrush anywhere?"
"Oh God," he groaned against my skin. "We really need to find toothbrushes!"
This had me smiling. The first genuine smile in a really long time.
____________________________________
I was waiting for Max to return. We had been moved to a room with a queen-sized bed, because the adults had quickly realized that we wouldn't be leaving each others' sides. Considering the plan that Max's father had informed us of, it seemed that it was in their interest to keep us close. To strengthen our connection.
I didn't even bother to consider the fact that they had let two 16-year-olds sleep in the same bed together, and that with the knowledge of what we had been up to before (to create the double bond). I guess these were extenuating circumstances. Or maybe they had realized that we would only feel safe and heal if we were close to each other. They never even attempted to separate us.
Of course, it would help if I wasn't blocking the connection. Which was what Max and his father where fighting about right now. I knew, because they were only next door, and they were not using their inside voices.
Mr. Evans was frustrated because Max had just told him that I was blocking the connection. He was wondering how Max could let that happen, if Max really didn't know how much a connection would help me in the current situation and that I needed it now more than ever. Max was yelling back, angry with his father because he clearly couldn't see how much I was hurting, how distant I was, how sharing a connection right now might overwhelm me and how he didn't want to push me.
I pulled the duvet over my head and pushed my hands over my ears as they started arguing about my eating habits. Or the lack thereof. How Max wanted me to have a free choice of what I wanted to eat and how that might help me get my appetite up, when Mr. Evans kept throwing medical facts about the need to slowly get a starved body used to food, through small amounts of easily digestible soups.
I began singing to myself (a desperate off-key noise) to drown out the noise further when my hands weren't enough and completely failed to hear someone enter my room.
But the person was careful enough to say my name repeatedly as she approached the bed and hence didn't scare me.
She pulled the duvet back, revealing my face as my hands slowly slid away from my ears. I registered Max's screamed objections through the wall against having me fight their fight, fight for their race, before I took in Diane's open face looking at me.
It was the first time she had come to visit. The first time I had seen her since she had begged me to take care of her son (something I had failed to do) on the eve of the meeting.
"Oh," she got out before she started crying.
Her tears pierced my heart and I felt myself crumbling in response to her maternal concern and love. No one had cried so openly for me before. Not even my father.
"You poor girl," she whispered and brushed a hand through my newly washed hair, tucking it gently behind my ear as she sank down on the bed.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, wiping at my tears as her own flowed unhindered down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."
I squeezed my lips tightly together, but couldn't avert my eyes from her.
"How are you?" she asked and I bit hard into my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming.
Because it felt like there was something inside of me that needed to get out. That needed to be loud and almost destructive. Rather than calm and accepting.
Instead I said nothing.
Her eyes turned hesitant, the same look a lot of people around me had been giving me lately. Unsure of how to treat me. Walking on eggshells. "Can I hug you?"
It felt better than I thought it would, that someone actually asked for permission. So I had no problem giving it. Nodding slowly, she gave me a soft smile before leaning over me and pulling me up into her embrace.
It felt very natural to wrap my arms around her and let her hold me close. Her smell was unfamiliar to me (somewhat flowery), her embrace equally so, but still there was something very recognizable about her touch. About her concern.
She pulled back and pulled a napkin out of the front pocket of her jeans, wiping her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. "Look at me. Making a mess out of myself."
"Welcome to the club," I said quietly, not a single trace of humor on my face.
She looked at me perplexed for a second, before a smile broke out over her lips. Chuckling softly to herself, she put the napkin away. "Thank you."
"Have you seen Max yet?" I found myself asking, still worrying about him. He was still my highest priority. I'm sure he was missing his mother. I'm sure she was missing him. He would probably love to see her.
She shook her head, hitching it towards the wall with a grimace, "I can hear that he's awake now, but he was asleep when I saw him last."
"Right," I said. "Don't you want to see him?"
"Actually," Diane smiled at me, "I want to talk to you. Is that okay?"
I briefly considered my alternate choice: blocking out the Evans men's argument about me. It was not a hard decision to make. Especially since I didn't mind spending time in Diane's company.
"Sure," I replied and to my surprise watched Diane climb onto the bed, move around me and sit down next to me. She crossed her legs in front of her, looking like she belonged, and gave me a relaxed smile.
"I want to be honest with you," Diane said, making me instantly on the alert.
What did that mean? What horrible news was she about to bring me?
"Can I be honest with you?" Diane asked.
I nodded, looking at her with wide frightened eyes.
"I want to tell you my story." There was a nervous tremble to her voice. "Because I want you to know that you're not alone, Liz. That you can always come to me if you have questions. About anything. Their abilities. Their emotions. The connection. Sex."
I blushed and dropped my eyes, but her words warmed me. I might never take her up on her offer, I might be too embarrassed to, but it meant a lot that she offered.
She didn't wait for me to say anything, instead filling the awkward moment with, "Our stories will differ, but fundamentally we're both humans brought into an alien society, an alien world. And sometimes you need someone to talk to. Someone that has shared the same experiences." She paused and gave me a weak smile. "There were times I really needed someone to talk to, but I could never confide in anyone. When I married Philip, I lost all of my human friends. We lost contact. I didn't know what to tell them any longer and it became too complicated. So I decided to just let them go."
I thought of Maria and my stomach twisted.
"I met Philip at the hospital." She stared off into the air, her eyes taking on a distant expression. "He was so handsome. Dark and mysterious. Many girls were charmed by him. But he was also distant. Difficult to get close to. He was a resident at the time and I was just volunteering."
She gave me a sheepish smile and shrugged, "You know, changing bed pans, taking out the trash, doing some administrative work. In my time I was called a candy striper." She shook her head, lost in memories. "I was so young. So naïve."
"I didn't know it at the time, but Philip had had his eyes on me for awhile. I never in a million years thought someone like him would be interested in me, so I barely dared to look at him. Whenever a doctor would walk into a room, I tried to keep to myself, not make any noise, trying not to disturb them."
I was hanging onto her every word, picturing the hospital environment she had worked in, picturing her red-and-white-striped uniform and a younger dark-haired Philip Evans.
Diane cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. "One day he approached me. Asked if I wanted to help out with a study he was doing. Said he needed a sample of my blood."
A shiver ran down my spine, my mouth going dry.
Diane laughed embarrassed. "Of course I didn't say no. I was honored. Flattered." She sighed. "After that, he started courting me. We went on a couple of dates." She shook her head. "I couldn't believe my luck. That someone like him would want to date me."
I was wondering what Mr. Evans had wanted with her blood, but I couldn't interrupt. I was sure that Diane would tell me eventually.
"He was the first man I had sex with," Diane declared and my first feeling was not embarrassment at her honesty, but solidarity at the realization that I was not the only one to share my first sexual experience with an alien.
Diane glanced at me before looking down at her hands as she continued, "I didn't really have anything to compare it to, considering that I had no prior experience." She looked at me, searched my face momentarily. "I hope it's okay that I'm being this frank with you."
"It's..." I had to stop to clear my throat. I had listened to her so intently that I had forgotten how to speak. "It's okay."
What else should I say? That I was really grateful that she was sharing this with me? Because I was. But I wasn't courageous enough to admit it.
Diane smiled, "Okay," took a deep breath and continued, "The sex was...amazing. I had never felt anything like it. Philip wasn't overly attentive to me, but the feelings... It was as if I was feeling what he was feeling while I was experiencing it."
Heat crept up my neck and cheeks, and I had to turn my face away as her words resonate too intimately with my own experiences.
Her eyes brushed over my profile, but didn't comment on my reaction. "Of course, I didn't know anything about who he really was at that point. I didn't know that we had just formed a connection. I just thought that we had a real connection. You know, a real human connection. That we were in tune with each other." She took a deep breath. "I was already in love with him, but I fell even harder after that. I was convinced that he was the man for me. That we were soulmates. Shortly thereafter, I found out that I was pregnant."
"You..?" I gasped.
Diane looked embarrassed. "Yes. We had been a bit careless with protection, I'm afraid. But I understood later that it had been a completely deliberate decision on my husband's side. He's not the type of person that wouldn't keep track of something like that."
I thought of Max and all the condoms he had brought to the house in Hondo. The memory held a touch of bittersweetness. Of course Mr. Evans wouldn't forget protection. Of course it had been 'planned'. But for what reason?
Diane turned around in her seat to face me more fully and made sure to catch my eyes before she said, "I want you to understand that my husband is not a bad man. But it might seem that way from what I'm about to tell you." She grimaced. "Max has always had trouble swallowing that detail. He wasn't even supposed to know about it, but he overheard it during one of my and Philip's...'discussions'."
Right. I thought back to Max's reaction when I had asked if his mother had married his father voluntarily. How something had seemed off about his reply. Maybe I would finally find out the reason why.
"The ability that Philip has - the same ability that Max has inherited - is very rare. I'm sure you know of this by now."
I nodded quietly. Oh yes.
"Philip was under a lot of pressure to have a child with the healing trait. But it isn't just simply passed on to the child of a healer only because the father is a healer. The mother must be compatible. Have the right genetic code to produce that child."
My eyes widened in horror. No... It couldn't be. "You're a gaea?"
Diane gave me a sad smile, almost as if she had wished she was, just so that she could have shouldered that burden with me. "No, sweetheart."
"But...you...?" I was confused.
"It's just simple genetics. Like you have a higher chance of having a child with blue eyes if both you and your significant other have blue eyes."
"Right," I mumbled, both feeling comforted and disappointed that she wasn't like me. That she wasn't like my mom. I looked at her and whispered, "That's why he needed your blood?"
Diane nodded.
"Is that why he chose you?" I asked, a sad twinge in my heart. "Because of your blood?"
She looked away for a brief moment before meeting my sad eyes. "He would never admit to it out loud, but yes. I'm almost completely positive he did. I was not the only girl in his 'study'."
"But you were the only one he dated?"
"Yes," Diane nodded. "As far as I know. I was the one with the most compatible genetics. The one most likely to produce a child with the healing trait."
"And if you hadn't?" I asked, wondering if the answer to that question was the reason Max had reacted to, or if it had been because his father hadn't fallen in love, but instead had chosen his mother for purely genetic reasons.
Diane hesitated before she stated quietly, "He would have made sure that I aborted."
I felt myself go pale, the feelings about the alien race too close to the surface, too easily brought forward. The concept that there might be so much these aliens had already done to humans that I didn't know about made me weak with fear, and nausea rose in my throat.
This is what Max had been upset about. This is what he hadn't approved of.
"But you were pregnant with Max and Isabel, right?" I asked faintly. "And Max had the healing trait."
Diane nodded. She was looking at me closely, probably having noted my reaction. "And considering that he would let me go through with the pregnancy and what could happen during alien pregnancies, he had to tell me about his origins. Had to marry me."
I bit my lip. "And that wasn't something he wanted?" He had picked her out, after all. Like some genetic experiment.
"He was afraid I would run. Run with his children. Or even harm the fetuses. Want them out of me." She looked me straight in the eyes and added, "But I could never do that. Quite early on I formed a connection to them. That's what happens. You feel their presence in your mind, in your body. Sadly, it disappears once they are born."
I considered what she had said for a quiet moment before tentatively asking, "Do you love him?"
Diane nodded. "Yes. I always have. Even when he told me the truth. Even when he didn't seem to love me."
My heart ached for her and I couldn't help but compare her story to mine and Max's. How Max had gone against every alien protocol there was just because he had prioritized love. No wonder there was tension between him and his dad. Philip Evans hadn't been allowed to choose his partner out of love; he had been forced to choose a suitable genetic mate to ensure that his special trait was carried on. Potentially sacrificing his own happiness to ensure the success of the alien community.
"Does he love you now?" I hoped I wasn't overstepping any invisible borders by asking, but Diane didn't seem offended.
She offered me a soft smile. A secretive smile. "Yes. Very much. We have grown very close over the years. Philip has grown into himself. And I think our children has helped a lot. Just the fact that they are both very emotional, very emphatic. They have thrown him more curveballs and eye-openers than he ever could have anticipated. Maybe that's why he eventually started loving me for real. Because he gradually became more human."
I didn't want to ask what it was like to be with an alien. Because Mr. Evans was a pure alien, after all. To not have someone understand your emotions, to be unable to show emotions.
We heard the door slam next door, shaking the wall we were leaning our backs up against, before moments later Max walked through the door.
He was upset. Really upset. I could practically see it vibrate off his body.
But seeing his mother seated next to me on the bed briefly interrupted his distress. "Mom?"
Diane grew teary-eyed again, which warmed my heart. It was nice to see that someone other than me could cry so much. I felt a bit sorry for Max, though, when a softly sobbing Diane climbed off the bed and walked up to her son.
Poor Max was surrounded by crying women.
"Max," Diane whispered and put her arms around her son.
Max looked confused as he returned his mother's hug. He was looking at me over his mother's shoulder, silently asking me if everything was okay. I managed a small smile for him.
Max returned it before he pulled back and kissed his mother on the cheek. "What are you doing here, Mom?"
"I was talking to Liz," Diane answered and gave me a warm smile over her shoulder. "She needed to listen to something else than you and your father dictating her life."
Max flushed, looking both contrite and angry. "We weren't dict-"
"I'm not the one you need to convince," Diane interrupted and Max looked worried as he glanced at me.
"What have you been talking about?" he asked suspiciously.
"Life, love, sex," Diane answered good-naturedly and laughed as Max's face turned red.
I, too, found it quite amusing actually. The possibilities of what Diane and I might have discussed were endless. Enough to make Max nervous.
"I'm so happy to have you back," Diane said and pulled Max into another hug. I watched Max's face return to normal face color and his face relaxed. It was beautiful to watch, the love Max had for his mother.
"I'm happy to be back," Max said quietly, his statement heavy with unspoken confessions about his time in captivity.
"He was doing his best to help you, you know," Diane said, referring to Max's father.
Max took a deep breath, his eyes hardening as he pulled away from his mother. Apparently, her statement brought back the irritation he had been carrying while entering the room.
"When he should have been helping her," Max said, not looking at me but it was no secret who he was referring to.
"He couldn't get to her," Diane tried to meddle. "I'm sure he's told you that. He tried his best to keep you strong so that you could protect her."
"Well," Max said tightly. "He should have tried harder."
"Max..." Diane said slowly.
"No, Mom, you know what?" Max voice rose in biting anger. "Do you have any idea what almost happened to her? What they almost did? What they did do?"
Diane looked back at me worriedly, but I had already dropped my head, averted my eyes, and was slowly crawling back inside my mind.
"I..." Diane whispered at a loss of words.
"Exactly!" Max practically shouted and I squeezed my eyes closed at the sound. I didn't like when he yelled. I didn't like when he yelled at his mother.
"You don't know! Not even I know, because she won't let me in! They hurt her so much that she's cut me out!"
"Please stop," I whispered.
No one heard me.
"I'm really sorry about that, Max, but if you would just lis-"
"No," Max refuted. "No, I'm done listening. Now you listen to me. Dad wants to take her out on a battlefield. He wants to risk her life - again - for a cause that has only hurt her."
"I'm sure he doesn't mean it like-"
"Please stop," I said, louder this time, pressing my hands to my ears.
"She's in there somewhere, but I'm afraid of what will happen if we force her to fight. If they use us like that-"
"Stooop!" I screamed, effectively cutting off all heated discussions in the room.
I don't know how they reacted. Don't know if they were looking at each other or even if they exchanged any words. I heard nothing behind the hands pressed to my ears.
But not many seconds passed until I felt the bed dip next to me and his hands grab my upper arms, gently pulling me onto his lap. I deflated against him, my knees sliding to the sides of his hips and my face buried into his chest.
His hands were moving soothingly up and down my spine, threading through my hair, and back to my back again. In a slow pattern of regret.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry."
I wished for a time when he wouldn't have to be sorry anymore. When he wouldn't have to apologize to me.
TBC...
Last edited by max and liz believer on Fri Jul 07, 2017 3:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
-
Morning Dreamgirl
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 368
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: United States
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 72, 2/1/16, p. 60
Gah! I'm so far behind on posting my FB!
You'll get a flurry of them soon enough.
I love Diane. She's amazing.
You'll get a flurry of them soon enough.
I love Diane. She's amazing.
-
Roswelllostcause
- Roswell Fanatic
- Posts: 1992
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Motown
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 72, 2/1/16, p. 60
Diane is such a wonderful and warm woman. Liz really needs to let someone in. Holding everything in is slowly eating her alive. I am far from an expert but to me it seems that she may have a case of Post traumatic stress disorder. Talking and letting someone in is the only thing that is going to help her. Maybe if Max hadn't come in when he did she might have gotten the courage to talk about it with Diane. It was very sweet of Diane to tell Liz her story. That they both not only fell in love with an alien. They also had their first time with an alien. They were both used by the aliens because of something in their genes.
Helen
Still have a team out tracking down Command, so I can send the snippers in!
Helen
Still have a team out tracking down Command, so I can send the snippers in!
Check out my Author page for a list of my fics!
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
http://www.roswellfanatics.net/viewtopi ... 1&t=155639
Re: Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie (AU M/L ADULT) Ch 72, 2/1/16, p. 60
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. Poor Liz she has to listen to both men argue over her. Love the way Diane cares so much about Liz. Love the story Diane told Liz.Poor Max he is trying to get his parents to understand what Liz has been through. But still it should be Liz's to decide what she wants to do. Hoping Liz will either talk to Max and Diane about what happened. Hopefully someone will be able to help Liz get through it.
From:
L-J-L 76
P.S - Please please someone will kill Command and the evil Aliens? And Please let Max and Liz have their happy ending together????
From:
L-J-L 76
P.S - Please please someone will kill Command and the evil Aliens? And Please let Max and Liz have their happy ending together????