Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 11 3/29/15 p.
Posted: Sun Mar 29, 2015 1:58 pm
oh i can't wait for them to meet but so not liking the tess
Great part!
Roswell Fanatics
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Lethal Whispers (ML, MATURE) 10/29/15 COMPLETE
Page 7 of 42
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 11 3/29/15 p.
Posted: Sun Mar 29, 2015 3:05 pm
Aislin? mmm..
Great part!
Great part!
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 11 3/29/15 p.
Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2015 5:49 am
I hope that Max and Liz meet in the next part!
Chapter 12
Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2015 2:08 pm
Hello everyone!
It's time for another update. First, though:
Natalie (Natalie36) - I'm very much with you on every point
saori_1902 - Thank you!
dreamon - Unfortunately, they won't meet in this chapter - but the next one…
CHAPTER 12
Michael
He had found the article about her in the abandoned newspaper on the kitchen table in his fourth foster home. The headline had read; NINE-YEAR-OLD GIRL MIRACULOUSLY BEATS INCURABLE CANCER. But it had been the photo of that nine-year-old, not the sensational heading, which had pulled him in.
Her hair had been really short, similar to an army cut, but her brave and proud smile had transfixed him. He had cut the article out and placed it under his pillow. He would pull it out every night before going to sleep, reading the article over and over again.
The doctors had given Maria DeLuca a maximum of five weeks left to live and the girls’ parents were distraught.
“We were prepared to lose her, any day,” Amy DeLuca accounts. “I couldn’t sleep; I was constantly checking on her to see if she was breathing.”
The parents paint a picture of how, in a way, they had already lost their little girl.
“Her personality had changed,” Robert DeLuca explains. “Weird things were coming out of her mouth.”
Personality changes can be a devastating symptom of brain tumors. The girl also suffered seizures in the final stages of the disease, eventually being almost completely paralyzed on the left side of her body.
The article went on to describe what the parents had to go through, how their daughter’s illness eventually had ruined their relationship but how they had stayed together for the sake of Maria. The punch line came at the last third of the article, as the reporter narrated the remarkable story of how Maria woke up one day with the paralysis gone and her personality seemingly restored to that of a healthy nine-year-old.
The article finished off with how specialists were left speechless without being able to offer a plausible explanation to account for the girl’s full recovery. It was not up to the doctors to put the Miracle-stamp on the case, but the reporter wasn’t afraid to use that label. Maria DeLuca lived because of a miracle.
It wasn’t even necessarily the inexplicable nature of the girl’s changed destiny, but rather the short sentence in the middle of the article that had captured Michael’s interest.
It was shortly after the farewell visit of one of Maria’s classmates that Maria had ostensibly recovered.
At the time of the article, Michael Guerin (at the time: Michael Dwight) had just started to realize that he was not like other children. If he thought about something hard enough and added some anger, it would blow up. Like a small bomb. He had managed to make lamps explode as well as pillows and even scrunched up a bully’s bicycle like it was made of paper.
So upon the discovery of the article, Michael had been certain that Maria DeLuca’s recovery wasn’t miraculous. There was someone out there, just like him, that had helped this girl. Because even though he had never told anyone, he remembered waking up in a chamber filled with goo, pulling an organic tube of some kind out of his throat, pushing out through a membrane to end up naked on the floor of a desert cave, like a newborn foal. Before leaving the cave, he had seen two other chambers, which had been empty. He had been the last one out, but not the only one.
This had given Michael hope. In a world he didn’t understand and where he felt utterly different, the sign of someone like him out there was a relief. Right then, Maria DeLuca had been his only clue.
It would be years before he could follow up on that trail. Stuck in the foster care system, he eventually ended up in a foster home that he quite liked, at the age of fifteen. The young mother seemed to understand him and he found himself in the unfamiliar situation of not wanting to disappoint her. So he cleaned up, became a good kid, started to get good grades at school. About eleven months after he had moved in and five months after he had taken their surname, Guerin, the mother got stomach cancer. The cancer was malignant and quick. With the fading news article still under his pillow, Michael attempted to save the woman he had grown to love, but whatever had helped Maria DeLuca was not part of Michael’s repertoire.
Instead, he had to watch the only person he had ever acknowledge as family die.
He had never been very close to the husband. The husband spent a lot of time at work and Michael were never able to really get to know him. After the loss of his wife, the man fell into a pattern of drinking which he had been a slave to for many years before meeting his wife. He lost his job, he became abusive towards Michael, and Michael began spending nights away from home. Michael was getting older and had no interest in going back to the orphanage at that point. Being unemployed, the husband required the monetary contribution the state provided for letting Michael stay with them to support his drinking habits. So he let Michael stay.
It was with the help of a teacher that Michael got the support and information on how to apply for emancipation. The state granted him a right to his own life just shortly after his seventeenth birthday. Just two days after that, Michael had moved to Boston, the article about Maria DeLuca in the back of his pocket.
He turned over in their double bed and put his arm in the dip of her waist, pulling her back up against his chest. A soft moan of satisfaction left her lips and he kissed her temple.
He had greatly disliked (hate is a very strong word) Maria DeLuca when he had first met her. She had been very different from the soft-looking happy girl in the photo in the newspaper that had etched itself onto the retina of his memory. After their first meeting, he would have been happy never to see her again (and the feeling was mutual), but his ulterior motive of finding Maria’s possible savior had forced him to stick around.
Maria would have said that it was meant to be. According to Michael, there was no way it was meant to be. Nothing that was ‘meant to be’ could be so frustratingly difficult.
During the ‘Introduction to Maria DeLuca’-phase, Michael was sure he was being tested - or punished - for something. Maria was everything about the human race that Michael had tried so hard to avoid. She was challenging, loud and physical (really, did she have to touch him all the time?). Her whole being brimmed with emotions and, God, did they overflow over and over again. Michael often questioned her self-control. Did she really have any? She could yell at him one second and cry in happiness the next. There was no question why she had gone by the nickname of Hurricane DeLuca in her high school.
But slowly, through the ups and downs, through the yelling, the fighting and the crying, through the laughter, the hugs and the smiles, Michael had started to stumble and eventually fall. And when he fell, he fell hard.
Now, almost six years later, he couldn’t remember a life when he hadn’t loved Maria DeLuca. Even though they fought about every third hour and made up every fourth hour of every single day, he would fiercely protect her with his life. Even though she continuously challenged his thoughts, his remarks and his ideas, her intelligence and the same emotional whirl that had once annoyed him, kept him alive.
The mobile phone on his nightstand vibrated and Maria moaned again. This time in annoyance.
“Leave us alone,” she mumbled.
Michael unhinged his arm from Maria’s waist, rolled over on his back and pressed the ‘Answer’-button. “Speak.”
“Hi,” no introduction was needed, he would recognize Isabel’s voice anywhere.
“Hey,” he replied. He still hadn’t forgiven her for bringing a stranger along on their shopping trip, even though said stranger had assisted in finding him a very good anniversary present which had earned him a very nice night with his beloved.
“Let me speak, okay?” Isabel requested. Apparently she could tell that Michael was still a bit miffed about the Tess-incident.
“You have the floor,” Michael sighed.
“I’m sorry for bringing Tess,” Michael remained silent, so Isabel continued, “But she was in desperate need for company and I thought she could help with the gift. And she did, didn’t she? Did Maria like it?”
“Don’t do that,” Michael said. “Don’t try to turn this into a positive thing.” Even though the gift had been genius.
“Right,” Isabel breathed. “Sorry. I guess, I just wanted to ask you about Tess.”
Michael sighed and the left side of the bed moved as Maria rolled onto her stomach, curling up along his left side. Her full lips placed a morning kiss on his jawbone and he managed a smile in her direction before returning his attention to Isabel. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you know about her?”
Michael twirl a strand of Maria’s long blond hair between his fingers and his replies were chipped. “Not much.”
“Was she a friend of yours?”
Michael snorted. “Hardly.”
“Why the cold shoulder yesterday? She was just trying to be friends.”
“I don’t trust her,” Michael felt Maria’s eyes on him as he continued, “She was the Great Manipulator at the orphanage. She could make people do anything for her.”
“That was a long time ago; you were kids. Most people do a lot of things they are not proud of when they’re kids.”
“Sure,” Michael said. “I just don’t trust her. She was playing you.”
Maria was tracing his pectorals with her index finger and Michael knew that she was listening intently to his side of the conversation. Maybe she could even hear Isabel on the other side of the line.
Isabel laughed. “No, she wasn’t. I’m not stupid, Michael.”
“I’m not saying you are,” Michael said simply, seriously, “I’m just saying that she’s really good at what she does.”
There was a a pause, and Michael suspected he might have hurt her feelings. But it was the truth and Michael was usually, if not always, telling it like it was.
“And you don’t think it was a coincidence that she came to see me?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“But she knows my boss, it’s not that odd that our paths would cross.”
“Maybe knowing your boss is a coincidence, but hooking up with you… I’m not so sure that’s all it’s set out to be.”
“So what do you think she’s after? If she’s ‘conspiring’, as you’re trying to claim?”
She was making fun of him, thinking he was being dramatic.
Michael sighed, getting annoyed that he was never taken seriously. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s an agent, trying to fish for information.”
“She didn’t ask a single conspicuous questi-“
“Of course she didn’t,” Michael snapped, “I told you; she’s smart. She wouldn’t show her cards that early in the process.”
“Oh come on,” Isabel said, catching onto his annoyance. “You think everything is a conspiracy. Maybe not everyone that is trying to be friends with us is out to get us. Maybe no one knows about us. Maybe no one suspects us. Shouldn’t someone have locked us up by now, if that was the case?”
“Maybe that’s what Ms. Harding is about to do,” Michael’s tone was acidic.
“Oh shut up,” Isabel sighed, obviously fed up with the conversation. “For future reference, I would like you to respect my friends, okay? Don’t treat them like shit. You have no idea how embarrassed I was at your behavior.”
“Come on, Iz-“ Michael tried. He was feeling the regret creeping up on him. He had been pissed at her that day, sure, and he had been looking for some type of pay-back, but he never meant to hurt her.
“Next time, keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Isabel…” But the line had been disconnected.
Michael sighed in frustration and placed the phone back on the night stand.
“Wow, that went well,” Maria voiced.
Michael looked down at his girlfriend, tensing at the fight he was almost certain would come. Girls always had each other’s backs and even if he had been unsure that Maria had heard Isabel’s normal speaking voice on the other side of the line, he was certain that Isabel’s yelling voice hadn’t gone undetected. And there was no way Maria was siding with Michael on this.
“Don’t start,” Michael sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Michael,” Maria said softly, beckoning his attention. When she had it, she continued, “This obviously doesn’t concern me-“
“Right,” Michael concurred and watched Maria’s eyes narrow in mild annoyance at being interrupted.
“But… even though I trust your instincts implicitly, you should really try and treat your sister better.”
“She’s not my sister,” Michael mumbled stubbornly.
Maria gave him a look spelling Really? Are you really going down that road?
“I know,” Michael agreed, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I’m an ass-“
“Michael, no,” Maria said gently, scooting up his naked body, ignoring the shivers that raced through her own at the friction, and lined up her face with his. “You’re not an ass. You’re just stubborn as hell.”
“I’m trying to protect her,” Michael said defensively.
Maria captured his lower lip between her teeth and gently tugged on it, before answering, noting his eyes turn darker, “I know. But try and be a bit more smooth about it.”
“This Theresa- Tess Harding. She’s not a nice person,” Michael objected. “What I really wanted to do was to forbid Isabel from ever talking to her again. Not doing that was me being a nice guy.”
Maria laughed lightly. “You big lovable idiot.”
If it hadn’t been for the pure love in her voice, he might have been insulted. Instead he kissed the lips that were now very close to his. “I love you.”
His sincere tone cooled her laughter. “I love you too.”
Catching her lips with his, he used his arms to pull her up the full length of his body, positioned so that she was straddling his waist. Her hair flowed down around her face, the ends tickling his chest as she looked down at him.
“Can we stop talking about Isabel now?” Michael asked.
“Sure,” Maria smiled and leaned down to start a trail of kisses down the center of his chest.
“Thank you,” Michael murmured.
TBC.. on Sunday - with a dreamer meeting
It's time for another update. First, though:
Natalie (Natalie36) - I'm very much with you on every point
saori_1902 - Thank you!
dreamon - Unfortunately, they won't meet in this chapter - but the next one…
CHAPTER 12
Michael
He had found the article about her in the abandoned newspaper on the kitchen table in his fourth foster home. The headline had read; NINE-YEAR-OLD GIRL MIRACULOUSLY BEATS INCURABLE CANCER. But it had been the photo of that nine-year-old, not the sensational heading, which had pulled him in.
Her hair had been really short, similar to an army cut, but her brave and proud smile had transfixed him. He had cut the article out and placed it under his pillow. He would pull it out every night before going to sleep, reading the article over and over again.
The doctors had given Maria DeLuca a maximum of five weeks left to live and the girls’ parents were distraught.
“We were prepared to lose her, any day,” Amy DeLuca accounts. “I couldn’t sleep; I was constantly checking on her to see if she was breathing.”
The parents paint a picture of how, in a way, they had already lost their little girl.
“Her personality had changed,” Robert DeLuca explains. “Weird things were coming out of her mouth.”
Personality changes can be a devastating symptom of brain tumors. The girl also suffered seizures in the final stages of the disease, eventually being almost completely paralyzed on the left side of her body.
The article went on to describe what the parents had to go through, how their daughter’s illness eventually had ruined their relationship but how they had stayed together for the sake of Maria. The punch line came at the last third of the article, as the reporter narrated the remarkable story of how Maria woke up one day with the paralysis gone and her personality seemingly restored to that of a healthy nine-year-old.
The article finished off with how specialists were left speechless without being able to offer a plausible explanation to account for the girl’s full recovery. It was not up to the doctors to put the Miracle-stamp on the case, but the reporter wasn’t afraid to use that label. Maria DeLuca lived because of a miracle.
It wasn’t even necessarily the inexplicable nature of the girl’s changed destiny, but rather the short sentence in the middle of the article that had captured Michael’s interest.
It was shortly after the farewell visit of one of Maria’s classmates that Maria had ostensibly recovered.
At the time of the article, Michael Guerin (at the time: Michael Dwight) had just started to realize that he was not like other children. If he thought about something hard enough and added some anger, it would blow up. Like a small bomb. He had managed to make lamps explode as well as pillows and even scrunched up a bully’s bicycle like it was made of paper.
So upon the discovery of the article, Michael had been certain that Maria DeLuca’s recovery wasn’t miraculous. There was someone out there, just like him, that had helped this girl. Because even though he had never told anyone, he remembered waking up in a chamber filled with goo, pulling an organic tube of some kind out of his throat, pushing out through a membrane to end up naked on the floor of a desert cave, like a newborn foal. Before leaving the cave, he had seen two other chambers, which had been empty. He had been the last one out, but not the only one.
This had given Michael hope. In a world he didn’t understand and where he felt utterly different, the sign of someone like him out there was a relief. Right then, Maria DeLuca had been his only clue.
It would be years before he could follow up on that trail. Stuck in the foster care system, he eventually ended up in a foster home that he quite liked, at the age of fifteen. The young mother seemed to understand him and he found himself in the unfamiliar situation of not wanting to disappoint her. So he cleaned up, became a good kid, started to get good grades at school. About eleven months after he had moved in and five months after he had taken their surname, Guerin, the mother got stomach cancer. The cancer was malignant and quick. With the fading news article still under his pillow, Michael attempted to save the woman he had grown to love, but whatever had helped Maria DeLuca was not part of Michael’s repertoire.
Instead, he had to watch the only person he had ever acknowledge as family die.
He had never been very close to the husband. The husband spent a lot of time at work and Michael were never able to really get to know him. After the loss of his wife, the man fell into a pattern of drinking which he had been a slave to for many years before meeting his wife. He lost his job, he became abusive towards Michael, and Michael began spending nights away from home. Michael was getting older and had no interest in going back to the orphanage at that point. Being unemployed, the husband required the monetary contribution the state provided for letting Michael stay with them to support his drinking habits. So he let Michael stay.
It was with the help of a teacher that Michael got the support and information on how to apply for emancipation. The state granted him a right to his own life just shortly after his seventeenth birthday. Just two days after that, Michael had moved to Boston, the article about Maria DeLuca in the back of his pocket.
He turned over in their double bed and put his arm in the dip of her waist, pulling her back up against his chest. A soft moan of satisfaction left her lips and he kissed her temple.
He had greatly disliked (hate is a very strong word) Maria DeLuca when he had first met her. She had been very different from the soft-looking happy girl in the photo in the newspaper that had etched itself onto the retina of his memory. After their first meeting, he would have been happy never to see her again (and the feeling was mutual), but his ulterior motive of finding Maria’s possible savior had forced him to stick around.
Maria would have said that it was meant to be. According to Michael, there was no way it was meant to be. Nothing that was ‘meant to be’ could be so frustratingly difficult.
During the ‘Introduction to Maria DeLuca’-phase, Michael was sure he was being tested - or punished - for something. Maria was everything about the human race that Michael had tried so hard to avoid. She was challenging, loud and physical (really, did she have to touch him all the time?). Her whole being brimmed with emotions and, God, did they overflow over and over again. Michael often questioned her self-control. Did she really have any? She could yell at him one second and cry in happiness the next. There was no question why she had gone by the nickname of Hurricane DeLuca in her high school.
But slowly, through the ups and downs, through the yelling, the fighting and the crying, through the laughter, the hugs and the smiles, Michael had started to stumble and eventually fall. And when he fell, he fell hard.
Now, almost six years later, he couldn’t remember a life when he hadn’t loved Maria DeLuca. Even though they fought about every third hour and made up every fourth hour of every single day, he would fiercely protect her with his life. Even though she continuously challenged his thoughts, his remarks and his ideas, her intelligence and the same emotional whirl that had once annoyed him, kept him alive.
The mobile phone on his nightstand vibrated and Maria moaned again. This time in annoyance.
“Leave us alone,” she mumbled.
Michael unhinged his arm from Maria’s waist, rolled over on his back and pressed the ‘Answer’-button. “Speak.”
“Hi,” no introduction was needed, he would recognize Isabel’s voice anywhere.
“Hey,” he replied. He still hadn’t forgiven her for bringing a stranger along on their shopping trip, even though said stranger had assisted in finding him a very good anniversary present which had earned him a very nice night with his beloved.
“Let me speak, okay?” Isabel requested. Apparently she could tell that Michael was still a bit miffed about the Tess-incident.
“You have the floor,” Michael sighed.
“I’m sorry for bringing Tess,” Michael remained silent, so Isabel continued, “But she was in desperate need for company and I thought she could help with the gift. And she did, didn’t she? Did Maria like it?”
“Don’t do that,” Michael said. “Don’t try to turn this into a positive thing.” Even though the gift had been genius.
“Right,” Isabel breathed. “Sorry. I guess, I just wanted to ask you about Tess.”
Michael sighed and the left side of the bed moved as Maria rolled onto her stomach, curling up along his left side. Her full lips placed a morning kiss on his jawbone and he managed a smile in her direction before returning his attention to Isabel. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you know about her?”
Michael twirl a strand of Maria’s long blond hair between his fingers and his replies were chipped. “Not much.”
“Was she a friend of yours?”
Michael snorted. “Hardly.”
“Why the cold shoulder yesterday? She was just trying to be friends.”
“I don’t trust her,” Michael felt Maria’s eyes on him as he continued, “She was the Great Manipulator at the orphanage. She could make people do anything for her.”
“That was a long time ago; you were kids. Most people do a lot of things they are not proud of when they’re kids.”
“Sure,” Michael said. “I just don’t trust her. She was playing you.”
Maria was tracing his pectorals with her index finger and Michael knew that she was listening intently to his side of the conversation. Maybe she could even hear Isabel on the other side of the line.
Isabel laughed. “No, she wasn’t. I’m not stupid, Michael.”
“I’m not saying you are,” Michael said simply, seriously, “I’m just saying that she’s really good at what she does.”
There was a a pause, and Michael suspected he might have hurt her feelings. But it was the truth and Michael was usually, if not always, telling it like it was.
“And you don’t think it was a coincidence that she came to see me?”
“I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“But she knows my boss, it’s not that odd that our paths would cross.”
“Maybe knowing your boss is a coincidence, but hooking up with you… I’m not so sure that’s all it’s set out to be.”
“So what do you think she’s after? If she’s ‘conspiring’, as you’re trying to claim?”
She was making fun of him, thinking he was being dramatic.
Michael sighed, getting annoyed that he was never taken seriously. “I have no idea. Maybe she’s an agent, trying to fish for information.”
“She didn’t ask a single conspicuous questi-“
“Of course she didn’t,” Michael snapped, “I told you; she’s smart. She wouldn’t show her cards that early in the process.”
“Oh come on,” Isabel said, catching onto his annoyance. “You think everything is a conspiracy. Maybe not everyone that is trying to be friends with us is out to get us. Maybe no one knows about us. Maybe no one suspects us. Shouldn’t someone have locked us up by now, if that was the case?”
“Maybe that’s what Ms. Harding is about to do,” Michael’s tone was acidic.
“Oh shut up,” Isabel sighed, obviously fed up with the conversation. “For future reference, I would like you to respect my friends, okay? Don’t treat them like shit. You have no idea how embarrassed I was at your behavior.”
“Come on, Iz-“ Michael tried. He was feeling the regret creeping up on him. He had been pissed at her that day, sure, and he had been looking for some type of pay-back, but he never meant to hurt her.
“Next time, keep your opinions to yourself!”
“Isabel…” But the line had been disconnected.
Michael sighed in frustration and placed the phone back on the night stand.
“Wow, that went well,” Maria voiced.
Michael looked down at his girlfriend, tensing at the fight he was almost certain would come. Girls always had each other’s backs and even if he had been unsure that Maria had heard Isabel’s normal speaking voice on the other side of the line, he was certain that Isabel’s yelling voice hadn’t gone undetected. And there was no way Maria was siding with Michael on this.
“Don’t start,” Michael sighed, looking up at the ceiling.
“Michael,” Maria said softly, beckoning his attention. When she had it, she continued, “This obviously doesn’t concern me-“
“Right,” Michael concurred and watched Maria’s eyes narrow in mild annoyance at being interrupted.
“But… even though I trust your instincts implicitly, you should really try and treat your sister better.”
“She’s not my sister,” Michael mumbled stubbornly.
Maria gave him a look spelling Really? Are you really going down that road?
“I know,” Michael agreed, kissing the top of her head. “I know. I’m an ass-“
“Michael, no,” Maria said gently, scooting up his naked body, ignoring the shivers that raced through her own at the friction, and lined up her face with his. “You’re not an ass. You’re just stubborn as hell.”
“I’m trying to protect her,” Michael said defensively.
Maria captured his lower lip between her teeth and gently tugged on it, before answering, noting his eyes turn darker, “I know. But try and be a bit more smooth about it.”
“This Theresa- Tess Harding. She’s not a nice person,” Michael objected. “What I really wanted to do was to forbid Isabel from ever talking to her again. Not doing that was me being a nice guy.”
Maria laughed lightly. “You big lovable idiot.”
If it hadn’t been for the pure love in her voice, he might have been insulted. Instead he kissed the lips that were now very close to his. “I love you.”
His sincere tone cooled her laughter. “I love you too.”
Catching her lips with his, he used his arms to pull her up the full length of his body, positioned so that she was straddling his waist. Her hair flowed down around her face, the ends tickling his chest as she looked down at him.
“Can we stop talking about Isabel now?” Michael asked.
“Sure,” Maria smiled and leaned down to start a trail of kisses down the center of his chest.
“Thank you,” Michael murmured.
TBC.. on Sunday - with a dreamer meeting
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 12 4/1/15 p. 7
Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2015 3:16 pm
Great part! Cant wait for the next chapter 
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 12 4/1/15 p. 7
Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2015 4:17 pm
Great parts! Michael is so right not to trust Tess! Love that Isabel wants to setup Max and Liz to meet!
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 12 4/1/15 p. 7
Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2015 9:22 am
Two fantastics parts!
And Isabel shouldn't be so as stubborn as a mule, when Michael has suspicions against Tess! If must be a reason why he felt this way about Tess...
Isabel obviously wants absolutely to make friends but as alien, she should be a little bit more suspicious
about who spontaneously try to make contact with obviously excuses...
Thanks and waiting for more! EVE
And Isabel shouldn't be so as stubborn as a mule, when Michael has suspicions against Tess! If must be a reason why he felt this way about Tess...
Isabel obviously wants absolutely to make friends but as alien, she should be a little bit more suspicious
about who spontaneously try to make contact with obviously excuses...
Thanks and waiting for more! EVE
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 12 4/1/15 p. 7
Posted: Thu Apr 02, 2015 10:29 am
Very interesting background on Maria.
Sure looking for the next dreamer part....
Thanks,
Carolyn
Sure looking for the next dreamer part....
Thanks,
Carolyn
Re: Lethal Whispers (ML, some MM, MATURE), Ch 12 4/1/15 p. 7
Posted: Fri Apr 03, 2015 5:30 am
Thanks for another great part, and I can't wait to see the dreamer meeting!!!
Chapter 13
Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 1:04 am
saori_1902 - Thank you!
Roswelllostcause - Yes, Isabel is good to have around - sometimes Thank you for the feedback!
Eve (begonia9508) - Interesting thoughts. Isabel is very lonely in that male-dominated trio of theirs and she's always trying to find a friend. She wouldn't just go blabbering out their secrets though. She's a lot smarter than that. Thank you for the feedback!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Thank you!
dreamon
Finally, Max and Liz are going to be in the same room…
CHAPTER 13
Alex
“You look like crap,” Alex informed bluntly, before he could stop himself, when Liz opened the front door in response to his knock.
She smiled weakly. “Jeez, Alex. Thanks. You really know how to charm a woman. No wonder you’re still single…”
Alex gripped his left pectoral, imitating the instant pain in his heart, “Ouch.” But he sobered up quickly. “But seriously, Lizzie, are you sick?”
Even as the question left his mouth he found the question implausible. Liz had never been sick a day in her life. Well, at least not during the time he had known her. Which was odd in itself, but Alex had just put it down to good genes.
Liz’s response was in line with his own thinking. “Me? Sick? Nah.”
She felt thin in his arms as he hugged her. Alex was no big guy, having been nicknamed Scarecrow Al growing up, but suddenly he felt as if his arms would break her fragile frame.
“You’ve lost weight,” he noted.
“I guess the diet eventually worked,” Liz joked.
Alex wouldn’t let her talk her way out of this. “What’s wrong?”
Before Liz could answer, Alex was struck with the memory of their previous conversation, on the eve of her second day at her new job. “Has he done something to you?”
His voice was appalled, frightened, as he grabbed her upper arm to stop her from fleeing to the kitchen.
“Who?” she questioned, her voice giving nothing away.
“That that…guy you were working with.” Alex could feel white anger tearing through his chest. If that man had so much as laid a finger on her…
She gently removed his hand from her arm, shaking her head. “No. Relax, Alex. I’m just sleeping badly.”
Alex wouldn’t let it go. “Because of him, right?” He shook his head in anger. “I knew he would find ways of messing with your head.”
“Calm down, Alex,” Liz pleaded, looking at him strangely. Maybe because she had never seen Alex angry.
“You would tell me, right?” Alex looked at her sharply. “You would tell me if he hurt you in any way.”
“Of course I would,” Liz said and forced herself to smile. “Alex, it’s okay. He hasn’t hurt me. He’s still acting a bit strange, but I guess that’s who he is. At least according to his assistant, Isabel.”
“Then what? Why are you not sleeping…or eating from the looks of it?”
“Bad dreams,” Liz answered evasively. Her night terrors had stopped before she met Alex, so she’d never found a reason to tell him about them, even though she had shared a lot of things with her best friend over the years.
“Can I get you anything?” Liz asked, hiding behind the role of the hostess.
Alex sighed. Maybe he was not going to get any more information out of her than that. “You got beer?”
“Sure,” Liz replied lightly and headed for the kitchen.
“I feel like we should go out to eat.” He almost had the urge to manually force food down her throat, to make sure that she was eating. He knew that eating disorders was a big thing for a lot of girls, but he never would have put Liz in that category. Firstly, she seemed to be able to eat just about anything without putting on weight and secondly, she had never made any comments about her weight. Come to think of it, the comment about the diet finally working for her at the door just then had probably been the first time Liz had talked about her weight with Alex.
To Alex’s surprise, Liz agreed. “Okay. What do you feel like?”
What contained the most calories? “Pizza?” His friend needed some fattening food.
Liz handed him a cold beer. “Okay. Let me just change into something different.”
Alex watched her head for her bedroom, the sweatpants barely being hold up by her tiny bottom, the Harvard University hoodie almost drowning her. Whatever had happened to his friend in the last two weeks had transformed her.
She hadn’t really felt like going. The nightmares were now a constant in her life and she had resorted to trying to avoid falling asleep. The body usually gave up a couple of hours past midnight, giving her about an hour of troubled sleep. Sometimes tendrils of the dreams managed to enter her REM-sleep just before the alarm sounded.
So when Isabel Evans had reminded her that the office party was this week, Liz had started to protest. Of course she couldn’t go. She could barely stay on her feet. She was so tired that she felt faint and kept stumbling when she walked. She was extremely aware of the whispers around her at work. They probably thought she had a drinking problem.
She knew that she looked horrible (the look on Alex face the other night had confirmed that), but with the lack of sleep came the nausea, preventing her from being able to keep anything down. At the moment, she was surviving on strawberry yoghurt, apparently the only thing that would remain in her stomach and didn’t tell the vomiting center in her brain to ‘Go!’.
But Isabel had been adamant. Of course she had to go. Apparently, Isabel was bringing her brother and she really wanted them to meet. Liz had tried to suggest that she’d meet Isabel and her brother one-on-one later on instead, but Isabel had said something about her brother being very busy. Isabel bringing her brother had on the other hand presented Liz with the idea that she could bring plus ones. So she had asked Alex to come. At least then, she would have a familiar face around and someone to blame when she wanted to leave early (Alex having to get up early or something).
This had, naturally, been too good to be true. Alex had other plans. After apologizing profusely and suggesting that he would cancel his plans to go with her, Liz had waved his words away assuring him that she was a big girl and could do this on her own.
Which presented her with the next problem. None of her dresses fit. She hadn’t fully realized how much weight she had lost until Alex basically had tried to jam a slice of pineapple pizza (she hated warm fruit on top of food) down her throat. Looking at the normally snuggly fitted little black dress looking baggy around her center, she had the evidence slapped in her face.
I’m booking a therapy session in the morning.
She couldn’t go on like this. The therapy must have helped last time (although she had no idea how), since the night terrors had stopped. She obviously had to resume the sessions.
Opting for a red blouse with a black skirt, and a tight belt at her waist to hold everything up, she was only five minutes behind schedule as she strapped her feet into a pair of black Mary Jane’s.
This was going to be a long night. Max looked around the crowded room, recognizing a total of zero people. This was going to be great (insert sarcasm here).
“Don’t pout,” Isabel said behind him.
“What am I doing here, Isabel?” Max asked, unintentionally sounding like a five-year-old boy that hadn’t gotten candy at the store like he wanted to.
“You’re meeting my friends and maybe making some of your own at the same time,” Isabel explained, for the umpteenth time.
“I have friends. I don’t need any more friends.”
Isabel rolled her eyes at him. “Except for the obvious fact that you need an attitude adjustment, you also need a life. And the friends you have right now are not providing you with the life you need. You need to get away from that life, okay? You need a normal human life.”
She probably had a point, but the ever persistent headache that had been heckling him for the last two weeks was slowly wearing him down to a point where it was impossible for him to think rationally let alone plan for an alternate future. The music and the constant buzz of a magnitude of conversations didn’t really have the most soothing effect on his aching head.
“Besides,” Isabel interjected. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Max groaned. Introducing his sister: Queen of Matchmaking. For some unknown reason she had taken it upon herself to fix Max’s non-existent love life. By now, Isabel had probably introduced him to at least fifty percent of Boston’s finest eligible females. Sure, some had been really nice and he had gone on a couple of dates. But considering what he was going through at the moment, finding a potential girlfriend was not at the top of his priority list. But what else could he do? He was already here, he might as well try to enjoy himself before his brain exploded. Which seemed to be the final goal of the relentless throbbing of his head.
“There she is,” Isabel said, pulling on Max’s sleeve, causing him to stumble after his eager sister.
“Liz,” Isabel said to the back of a petite girl.
The woman turned around and Max felt his grip on reality falter. He vaguely noticed the small smile on the woman whose face he recognized oh so well, before he swayed on his feet.
“Liz, this is my br-“ Isabel’s words died on her lips as her eyes turned to her brother, who looked ready to pass out.
“Are you okay?” The concerned voice belonged to the brunette woman. It was the same voice. Exactly the same voice. Max struggled to breathe. He tried to find the mental manual for ‘How to get air into lungs’, but was pulling up short.
“Max?” Isabel repeated, but the question reached Max as though from a distance and she appeared to be blurring around the edges.
“Put your head between your knees,” the girl’s voice instructed.
“Yeah,” Isabel said and Max could hear the very sharp fear in her voice. “Yeah, do that.”
Max vaguely felt Isabel’s hand at the back of his neck, forcing his head downwards. He had to grab the edge of a nearby table to prevent his helpful sister from making him fall on his face.
Then he felt someone else on his other side, supporting his weight. “Try to take deep breaths.”
I don’t know how, Max thought frantically. He was going to pass out.
“Calm down and breathe,” the girl’s voice was suddenly very clear, very much in stereo, right next to his ear. It was soft, calm and reassuring and he felt the constricting muscles of his throat loosen and he sharply inhaled. Air had never tasted so good.
“There you go,” the voice continued, “Slow, deep breaths.”
He got the fuzzy feeling of mimicking the Lamaze technique for giving birth, before his skipping heart (having been scared into slight arrhythmia by the lack of oxygen) started to slow down to a regular beat.
“Max? Are you okay?”
His sister was worried. Hell, he was worried. He was pretty sure that he would see the girl from his dreams - from the vision - standing next to him when he would straighten up and open his eyes. How could that be? You knew she was real. You knew it. Yeah, sure. But he had never anticipated her to just walk straight into his life, on introduction by his sister nonetheless.
“He had a seizure not too long ago.” Isabel was probably addressing the girl now, her words hurried - frantic even.
“Maybe we should get him to lie down,” the girl answered.
That voice. It was like honey to his ears. He couldn’t wait for his breathing to slow any more, he had to see her. Had to make sure that she was really there.
Straightening up, he felt his sister’s grip on his arm tightening. “Max, are you sure-“
“I’m okay,” he replied, breathless.
“Take it easy,” the girl’s honeyed voice cautioned.
His body unfolded into its full height and his eyes came to rest on the girl. And the world tilted slightly again. She was beautiful. Even prettier than in his dreams, if that was possible. Compared to his dreams, he could finally look at her up-close, in full detail. And it was exquisite. Her eyes were a dark brown and there was a small furrow of concern between her eyes, which did nothing to retract from her flawless pale skin. Her cheeks were flushed, from heat or the incident he couldn’t tell. Her hair was free around her shoulders, normally straight but wavy on this evening. The dark brown of her hair was accentuating her eyes and as he could do nothing but stare at her, those eyes seemed to gaze into him, from something deeper than… He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He was surprised when he was able to speak, “I’m sorry.”
The girl hadn’t looked away, even though he knew that the amount of time spent staring at her had reached ridiculously impolite proportions. There was warmth in her eyes and a real concern for this man that she had just met. He noticed her full pink lips move, as if she was about to say something, but stopped herself.
“Why are you apologizing?” Isabel questioned beside him. He had forgotten that she was there.
“I’m sorry,” Max repeated. He was apologizing for the staring and tried to will his eyes to look away. But he couldn’t. He was stuck in those dark brown pools of her eyes.
“Do you need to sit down?” the girl asked. Her voice was soft, melodic, and he felt his heart stumble. He slowly shook his head and swallowed. His mouth was very dry and his heart appeared to have jumped from its functional position in his rib cage to his throat. Throbbing in its constrained space in the rhythm of da-dub.
“I think you should sit down,” Isabel said and her tone was sharp. She was taking control of the situation, prepared to order her little brother around for the sake of his own well-being.
The familiarity of his sister’s command momentarily snapped him back to his body and he managed to tear his eyes away. “Maybe I should.”
Isabel exhaled, relieved. “Good. Here, come with me. There’s an office back here.”
He was very aware of the fact that the girl was following. He was hyperaware of her presence, even envisioning the sound of her breaths (short and erratic), the pressure of her blood flowing through her veins and arteries (smooth but hurried) and the temperature of her skin (warm, almost feverish). But of course, he was only imagining. His mind was playing tricks on him.
Inside the office, Isabel pushed him down in an office chair on wheels, her hands fussing over his forehead, down the sides his throat, doing all the things a worried mother would do to check on her ill child.
Max’s attention was on the small woman standing quietly in the shadow of the doorway. Now, as she was watching from the shadows he couldn’t help but notice how thin her skin looked, almost translucent, and the faint bruises under her eyes, as if her nights had been as fruitless in giving her sleep as his had.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Max implored softly.
He noticed her hesitantly bite her bottom lip, a motion that made his knees feel weak. Thank God he was already seated.
“It’s Liz,” the girl stepped closer. Hesitation in her every step, as if he was a wild scared animal and any sudden movements would make him run.
“You’re warm,” Isabel murmured. “Too warm.”
Max caught her fretting hands and held them in his as he met his sister’s worrying eyes head-on. “I’m fine, Iz.”
“Maybe you’re running a fever.”
Max lowered his voice, making it less likely that the third person in the room heard him. “Not that likely, is it?”
“Well, a lot of unlikely things have happened recently,” Isabel snapped, her voice a tad louder than normal speaking volume. She caught Max’s stern look of ‘Think before you speak’ and added in a quick mumble, “Sorry.”
“I’m fine now, Iz. I don’t know what happened.”
“You looked like you were going to faint,” Liz offered.
Max gave her a soft smile. “I think I was.” He held her eyes for a second too long again. But you stopped me.
Isabel gave a short laugh, making Max look at her. He imagined he could still feel the girl’s gaze burning into the side of his face. Isabel tied off her laughter with a hint of embarrassment, “That was one hell of an introduction, wasn’t it?”
He looked at her again and saw her small smile, her eyes not leaving his face.
She can’t look away either.
There was a frown on confusion between her eyes, where there before had been concern, and Max forced himself to break the eye-dialogue, suddenly feeling slightly wary. It truly was as if she could see straight into him and he couldn’t help the familiar feeling of anxiety brush his heart at the secrets he harbored. Even though he knew that it was ridiculous. It was not like she could read his mind.
“I hope it’s a good sign,” Isabel said, her voice still contained a slight tremble.
Max blinked and tried to will his enchantment with Liz away and focus on his sister. Liz’s look made his skin feel like it was burning and he realized that he needed to collect himself; breathe. Regretfully, he turned to Liz and asked softly, “Liz, could I please have a moment with my sister?”
Liz first looked surprised and then ashamed as if she suddenly realized that she might be intruding on a family moment. “Sure, sorry. Of course.”
“Just a second,” Max clarified, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.
Liz nodded. “I’ll be outside.”
As Liz closed the door behind her, Isabel looked at Max inquisitively. “Why..?”
Max realized that his hands were rolled into tight fists and as he let them unroll, the words came out with his next exhale, “It’s her, Iz.”
“Yes, that’s Elizabeth Parker. The girl I was telling you about.”
Isabel wasn’t getting it. Max shook his head, frustrated, and pulled the wrinkled paper with Maria’s drawing out of his back pocket. “No, it’s her.” He held the drawing up to Isabel, the drawing that looked suspiciously a lot like Elizabeth Parker. “The girl from my vision. The brunette from my dreams.”
Isabel stared at the drawing before backing away so suddenly that she hit the desk behind her, causing the desk lamp to fall to the floor. But she didn’t appear to notice. “What?!”
Max watched Isabel’s pupils dilate and make her light brown eyes seem black and he added, “You said you recognized her. Maybe that’s why.”
“I dreamwalked you,” Isabel exhaled, “When your dreams started years ago. I saw her.”
Max nodded slowly. “Exactly.”
“But how could…This is… Oh my God,” Isabel sank down on the desk behind her. “How is this possible? She’s right there. The girl you thought has been calling on you.”
Max shook his head, doubtful. “She can’t be. She didn’t recognize me. Not the way I recognized her.”
“But in a way she did,” Isabel said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“She saw photos of you in my apartment and there was something about how she reacted. Like she knew you, even though she didn’t admit to it. I don’t think she could figure it out herself, so she probably wasn’t too keen on talking it out with me - someone she had just met.”
“She’s alright then,” Max said slowly. “Whatever I saw in the vision; either it hasn’t happened or it won’t. It might just’ve been a conjuring of my own imagination.”
“Maybe,” Isabel nodded, exhaling. “Jesus. This is weird. Even by our standards.”
Max nodded and looked to the door out of which Liz had disappeared. As he tried to grasp the fact that he had just found the girl he had unconsciously been looking for over the last 20 years, he realized that his headache was gone. Evaporated.
TBC… On Wednesday
Roswelllostcause - Yes, Isabel is good to have around - sometimes
Thank you for the feedback!Eve (begonia9508) - Interesting thoughts. Isabel is very lonely in that male-dominated trio of theirs and she's always trying to find a friend. She wouldn't just go blabbering out their secrets though. She's a lot smarter than that. Thank you for the feedback!
Carolyn (keepsmiling7) - Thank you!
dreamon
It's coming right updreamon wrote:Thanks for another great part, and I can't wait to see the dreamer meeting!!!
Finally, Max and Liz are going to be in the same room…
CHAPTER 13
Alex
“You look like crap,” Alex informed bluntly, before he could stop himself, when Liz opened the front door in response to his knock.
She smiled weakly. “Jeez, Alex. Thanks. You really know how to charm a woman. No wonder you’re still single…”
Alex gripped his left pectoral, imitating the instant pain in his heart, “Ouch.” But he sobered up quickly. “But seriously, Lizzie, are you sick?”
Even as the question left his mouth he found the question implausible. Liz had never been sick a day in her life. Well, at least not during the time he had known her. Which was odd in itself, but Alex had just put it down to good genes.
Liz’s response was in line with his own thinking. “Me? Sick? Nah.”
She felt thin in his arms as he hugged her. Alex was no big guy, having been nicknamed Scarecrow Al growing up, but suddenly he felt as if his arms would break her fragile frame.
“You’ve lost weight,” he noted.
“I guess the diet eventually worked,” Liz joked.
Alex wouldn’t let her talk her way out of this. “What’s wrong?”
Before Liz could answer, Alex was struck with the memory of their previous conversation, on the eve of her second day at her new job. “Has he done something to you?”
His voice was appalled, frightened, as he grabbed her upper arm to stop her from fleeing to the kitchen.
“Who?” she questioned, her voice giving nothing away.
“That that…guy you were working with.” Alex could feel white anger tearing through his chest. If that man had so much as laid a finger on her…
She gently removed his hand from her arm, shaking her head. “No. Relax, Alex. I’m just sleeping badly.”
Alex wouldn’t let it go. “Because of him, right?” He shook his head in anger. “I knew he would find ways of messing with your head.”
“Calm down, Alex,” Liz pleaded, looking at him strangely. Maybe because she had never seen Alex angry.
“You would tell me, right?” Alex looked at her sharply. “You would tell me if he hurt you in any way.”
“Of course I would,” Liz said and forced herself to smile. “Alex, it’s okay. He hasn’t hurt me. He’s still acting a bit strange, but I guess that’s who he is. At least according to his assistant, Isabel.”
“Then what? Why are you not sleeping…or eating from the looks of it?”
“Bad dreams,” Liz answered evasively. Her night terrors had stopped before she met Alex, so she’d never found a reason to tell him about them, even though she had shared a lot of things with her best friend over the years.
“Can I get you anything?” Liz asked, hiding behind the role of the hostess.
Alex sighed. Maybe he was not going to get any more information out of her than that. “You got beer?”
“Sure,” Liz replied lightly and headed for the kitchen.
“I feel like we should go out to eat.” He almost had the urge to manually force food down her throat, to make sure that she was eating. He knew that eating disorders was a big thing for a lot of girls, but he never would have put Liz in that category. Firstly, she seemed to be able to eat just about anything without putting on weight and secondly, she had never made any comments about her weight. Come to think of it, the comment about the diet finally working for her at the door just then had probably been the first time Liz had talked about her weight with Alex.
To Alex’s surprise, Liz agreed. “Okay. What do you feel like?”
What contained the most calories? “Pizza?” His friend needed some fattening food.
Liz handed him a cold beer. “Okay. Let me just change into something different.”
Alex watched her head for her bedroom, the sweatpants barely being hold up by her tiny bottom, the Harvard University hoodie almost drowning her. Whatever had happened to his friend in the last two weeks had transformed her.
*****
LizShe hadn’t really felt like going. The nightmares were now a constant in her life and she had resorted to trying to avoid falling asleep. The body usually gave up a couple of hours past midnight, giving her about an hour of troubled sleep. Sometimes tendrils of the dreams managed to enter her REM-sleep just before the alarm sounded.
So when Isabel Evans had reminded her that the office party was this week, Liz had started to protest. Of course she couldn’t go. She could barely stay on her feet. She was so tired that she felt faint and kept stumbling when she walked. She was extremely aware of the whispers around her at work. They probably thought she had a drinking problem.
She knew that she looked horrible (the look on Alex face the other night had confirmed that), but with the lack of sleep came the nausea, preventing her from being able to keep anything down. At the moment, she was surviving on strawberry yoghurt, apparently the only thing that would remain in her stomach and didn’t tell the vomiting center in her brain to ‘Go!’.
But Isabel had been adamant. Of course she had to go. Apparently, Isabel was bringing her brother and she really wanted them to meet. Liz had tried to suggest that she’d meet Isabel and her brother one-on-one later on instead, but Isabel had said something about her brother being very busy. Isabel bringing her brother had on the other hand presented Liz with the idea that she could bring plus ones. So she had asked Alex to come. At least then, she would have a familiar face around and someone to blame when she wanted to leave early (Alex having to get up early or something).
This had, naturally, been too good to be true. Alex had other plans. After apologizing profusely and suggesting that he would cancel his plans to go with her, Liz had waved his words away assuring him that she was a big girl and could do this on her own.
Which presented her with the next problem. None of her dresses fit. She hadn’t fully realized how much weight she had lost until Alex basically had tried to jam a slice of pineapple pizza (she hated warm fruit on top of food) down her throat. Looking at the normally snuggly fitted little black dress looking baggy around her center, she had the evidence slapped in her face.
I’m booking a therapy session in the morning.
She couldn’t go on like this. The therapy must have helped last time (although she had no idea how), since the night terrors had stopped. She obviously had to resume the sessions.
Opting for a red blouse with a black skirt, and a tight belt at her waist to hold everything up, she was only five minutes behind schedule as she strapped her feet into a pair of black Mary Jane’s.
*****
MaxThis was going to be a long night. Max looked around the crowded room, recognizing a total of zero people. This was going to be great (insert sarcasm here).
“Don’t pout,” Isabel said behind him.
“What am I doing here, Isabel?” Max asked, unintentionally sounding like a five-year-old boy that hadn’t gotten candy at the store like he wanted to.
“You’re meeting my friends and maybe making some of your own at the same time,” Isabel explained, for the umpteenth time.
“I have friends. I don’t need any more friends.”
Isabel rolled her eyes at him. “Except for the obvious fact that you need an attitude adjustment, you also need a life. And the friends you have right now are not providing you with the life you need. You need to get away from that life, okay? You need a normal human life.”
She probably had a point, but the ever persistent headache that had been heckling him for the last two weeks was slowly wearing him down to a point where it was impossible for him to think rationally let alone plan for an alternate future. The music and the constant buzz of a magnitude of conversations didn’t really have the most soothing effect on his aching head.
“Besides,” Isabel interjected. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Max groaned. Introducing his sister: Queen of Matchmaking. For some unknown reason she had taken it upon herself to fix Max’s non-existent love life. By now, Isabel had probably introduced him to at least fifty percent of Boston’s finest eligible females. Sure, some had been really nice and he had gone on a couple of dates. But considering what he was going through at the moment, finding a potential girlfriend was not at the top of his priority list. But what else could he do? He was already here, he might as well try to enjoy himself before his brain exploded. Which seemed to be the final goal of the relentless throbbing of his head.
“There she is,” Isabel said, pulling on Max’s sleeve, causing him to stumble after his eager sister.
“Liz,” Isabel said to the back of a petite girl.
The woman turned around and Max felt his grip on reality falter. He vaguely noticed the small smile on the woman whose face he recognized oh so well, before he swayed on his feet.
“Liz, this is my br-“ Isabel’s words died on her lips as her eyes turned to her brother, who looked ready to pass out.
“Are you okay?” The concerned voice belonged to the brunette woman. It was the same voice. Exactly the same voice. Max struggled to breathe. He tried to find the mental manual for ‘How to get air into lungs’, but was pulling up short.
“Max?” Isabel repeated, but the question reached Max as though from a distance and she appeared to be blurring around the edges.
“Put your head between your knees,” the girl’s voice instructed.
“Yeah,” Isabel said and Max could hear the very sharp fear in her voice. “Yeah, do that.”
Max vaguely felt Isabel’s hand at the back of his neck, forcing his head downwards. He had to grab the edge of a nearby table to prevent his helpful sister from making him fall on his face.
Then he felt someone else on his other side, supporting his weight. “Try to take deep breaths.”
I don’t know how, Max thought frantically. He was going to pass out.
“Calm down and breathe,” the girl’s voice was suddenly very clear, very much in stereo, right next to his ear. It was soft, calm and reassuring and he felt the constricting muscles of his throat loosen and he sharply inhaled. Air had never tasted so good.
“There you go,” the voice continued, “Slow, deep breaths.”
He got the fuzzy feeling of mimicking the Lamaze technique for giving birth, before his skipping heart (having been scared into slight arrhythmia by the lack of oxygen) started to slow down to a regular beat.
“Max? Are you okay?”
His sister was worried. Hell, he was worried. He was pretty sure that he would see the girl from his dreams - from the vision - standing next to him when he would straighten up and open his eyes. How could that be? You knew she was real. You knew it. Yeah, sure. But he had never anticipated her to just walk straight into his life, on introduction by his sister nonetheless.
“He had a seizure not too long ago.” Isabel was probably addressing the girl now, her words hurried - frantic even.
“Maybe we should get him to lie down,” the girl answered.
That voice. It was like honey to his ears. He couldn’t wait for his breathing to slow any more, he had to see her. Had to make sure that she was really there.
Straightening up, he felt his sister’s grip on his arm tightening. “Max, are you sure-“
“I’m okay,” he replied, breathless.
“Take it easy,” the girl’s honeyed voice cautioned.
His body unfolded into its full height and his eyes came to rest on the girl. And the world tilted slightly again. She was beautiful. Even prettier than in his dreams, if that was possible. Compared to his dreams, he could finally look at her up-close, in full detail. And it was exquisite. Her eyes were a dark brown and there was a small furrow of concern between her eyes, which did nothing to retract from her flawless pale skin. Her cheeks were flushed, from heat or the incident he couldn’t tell. Her hair was free around her shoulders, normally straight but wavy on this evening. The dark brown of her hair was accentuating her eyes and as he could do nothing but stare at her, those eyes seemed to gaze into him, from something deeper than… He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He was surprised when he was able to speak, “I’m sorry.”
The girl hadn’t looked away, even though he knew that the amount of time spent staring at her had reached ridiculously impolite proportions. There was warmth in her eyes and a real concern for this man that she had just met. He noticed her full pink lips move, as if she was about to say something, but stopped herself.
“Why are you apologizing?” Isabel questioned beside him. He had forgotten that she was there.
“I’m sorry,” Max repeated. He was apologizing for the staring and tried to will his eyes to look away. But he couldn’t. He was stuck in those dark brown pools of her eyes.
“Do you need to sit down?” the girl asked. Her voice was soft, melodic, and he felt his heart stumble. He slowly shook his head and swallowed. His mouth was very dry and his heart appeared to have jumped from its functional position in his rib cage to his throat. Throbbing in its constrained space in the rhythm of da-dub.
“I think you should sit down,” Isabel said and her tone was sharp. She was taking control of the situation, prepared to order her little brother around for the sake of his own well-being.
The familiarity of his sister’s command momentarily snapped him back to his body and he managed to tear his eyes away. “Maybe I should.”
Isabel exhaled, relieved. “Good. Here, come with me. There’s an office back here.”
He was very aware of the fact that the girl was following. He was hyperaware of her presence, even envisioning the sound of her breaths (short and erratic), the pressure of her blood flowing through her veins and arteries (smooth but hurried) and the temperature of her skin (warm, almost feverish). But of course, he was only imagining. His mind was playing tricks on him.
Inside the office, Isabel pushed him down in an office chair on wheels, her hands fussing over his forehead, down the sides his throat, doing all the things a worried mother would do to check on her ill child.
Max’s attention was on the small woman standing quietly in the shadow of the doorway. Now, as she was watching from the shadows he couldn’t help but notice how thin her skin looked, almost translucent, and the faint bruises under her eyes, as if her nights had been as fruitless in giving her sleep as his had.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Max implored softly.
He noticed her hesitantly bite her bottom lip, a motion that made his knees feel weak. Thank God he was already seated.
“It’s Liz,” the girl stepped closer. Hesitation in her every step, as if he was a wild scared animal and any sudden movements would make him run.
“You’re warm,” Isabel murmured. “Too warm.”
Max caught her fretting hands and held them in his as he met his sister’s worrying eyes head-on. “I’m fine, Iz.”
“Maybe you’re running a fever.”
Max lowered his voice, making it less likely that the third person in the room heard him. “Not that likely, is it?”
“Well, a lot of unlikely things have happened recently,” Isabel snapped, her voice a tad louder than normal speaking volume. She caught Max’s stern look of ‘Think before you speak’ and added in a quick mumble, “Sorry.”
“I’m fine now, Iz. I don’t know what happened.”
“You looked like you were going to faint,” Liz offered.
Max gave her a soft smile. “I think I was.” He held her eyes for a second too long again. But you stopped me.
Isabel gave a short laugh, making Max look at her. He imagined he could still feel the girl’s gaze burning into the side of his face. Isabel tied off her laughter with a hint of embarrassment, “That was one hell of an introduction, wasn’t it?”
He looked at her again and saw her small smile, her eyes not leaving his face.
She can’t look away either.
There was a frown on confusion between her eyes, where there before had been concern, and Max forced himself to break the eye-dialogue, suddenly feeling slightly wary. It truly was as if she could see straight into him and he couldn’t help the familiar feeling of anxiety brush his heart at the secrets he harbored. Even though he knew that it was ridiculous. It was not like she could read his mind.
“I hope it’s a good sign,” Isabel said, her voice still contained a slight tremble.
Max blinked and tried to will his enchantment with Liz away and focus on his sister. Liz’s look made his skin feel like it was burning and he realized that he needed to collect himself; breathe. Regretfully, he turned to Liz and asked softly, “Liz, could I please have a moment with my sister?”
Liz first looked surprised and then ashamed as if she suddenly realized that she might be intruding on a family moment. “Sure, sorry. Of course.”
“Just a second,” Max clarified, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.
Liz nodded. “I’ll be outside.”
As Liz closed the door behind her, Isabel looked at Max inquisitively. “Why..?”
Max realized that his hands were rolled into tight fists and as he let them unroll, the words came out with his next exhale, “It’s her, Iz.”
“Yes, that’s Elizabeth Parker. The girl I was telling you about.”
Isabel wasn’t getting it. Max shook his head, frustrated, and pulled the wrinkled paper with Maria’s drawing out of his back pocket. “No, it’s her.” He held the drawing up to Isabel, the drawing that looked suspiciously a lot like Elizabeth Parker. “The girl from my vision. The brunette from my dreams.”
Isabel stared at the drawing before backing away so suddenly that she hit the desk behind her, causing the desk lamp to fall to the floor. But she didn’t appear to notice. “What?!”
Max watched Isabel’s pupils dilate and make her light brown eyes seem black and he added, “You said you recognized her. Maybe that’s why.”
“I dreamwalked you,” Isabel exhaled, “When your dreams started years ago. I saw her.”
Max nodded slowly. “Exactly.”
“But how could…This is… Oh my God,” Isabel sank down on the desk behind her. “How is this possible? She’s right there. The girl you thought has been calling on you.”
Max shook his head, doubtful. “She can’t be. She didn’t recognize me. Not the way I recognized her.”
“But in a way she did,” Isabel said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“She saw photos of you in my apartment and there was something about how she reacted. Like she knew you, even though she didn’t admit to it. I don’t think she could figure it out herself, so she probably wasn’t too keen on talking it out with me - someone she had just met.”
“She’s alright then,” Max said slowly. “Whatever I saw in the vision; either it hasn’t happened or it won’t. It might just’ve been a conjuring of my own imagination.”
“Maybe,” Isabel nodded, exhaling. “Jesus. This is weird. Even by our standards.”
Max nodded and looked to the door out of which Liz had disappeared. As he tried to grasp the fact that he had just found the girl he had unconsciously been looking for over the last 20 years, he realized that his headache was gone. Evaporated.
TBC… On Wednesday