Roswell Fanatics

Hi all!

Hope you're having a great weekend so far! So sorry for not updating yesterday. I was a bit exhausted.

Big hug,
Jo

Ashley (Morning Dreamgirl)

I love this chapter.

Aww, thanks

Helen (Roswelllostcause)

Now I just hope that this rebellion isn't going to try and use the two of them the way Command was. But it is good to know that Max and Liz only have to help on their terms.

Yes, they've been used "enough"

Find Command yet...?

Thank you so much for the feedback!


Carolyn (keepsmiling7)

Liz is smart, realizing that keeping Max close will be their best protection.

Yes, she is

Thank you for the feedback!


mela3

To be the primary weapon in a war is great undertaking and an enormous stress for a couple of teens

It really is

It is interesting that the rebellion needs the assistance of a human.

Well, it's more that they need the assistance of a (special) connection right now. But throughout their time on Earth, the aliens have been using humans to strengthen their army.

Thank you so much for the feedback!


L-J-L 76

So Max and Liz are a weapon huh.

In a manner of speaking, yes

Thank you for the feedback!


Eve (begonia9508)

She is a really strong girl! After the rapes from Sergeant, it is a wonder she can accept sex, even with Max!

Actually, Liz was never raped. The connection she shares with Max protected her. Sergeant did give her memory flashes of how he raped her mother, but he never raped Liz. Sexually, Liz has only been with Max.

So Max is right; if the half aliens want to pressure her, they should both leave...

Max is through taking bullshit from the others. He doesn't want people to continue controlling his life.

Nice week-end!

Thank you! You too

Thank you for the feedback!


From SEVENTY-FIVE:

My crying softened with the feeling, letting myself sink into the sensation. Allowed it to quiet my toxic thoughts. Max's hands had been replaced by his lips and he was placing soft kisses over the top of my breasts, across the front of my shoulders, up my neck.

"I'll keep you safe," he whispered, tears in his voice. "I promise you, that I'll keep you safe." He pulled back, took my hand and tightly entwined our fingers. "You won't have to do anything you're not prepared for. I'll see to it. They need us, so they'll have to wait. We're in charge. It's on our conditions."

"I can't do this, Max," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't think I can do this."

"Shhh," he hushed, brushing my lips, wet from my tears, with his. "There's no pressure, okay? No matter what anyone tries to tell you, there's no pressure. If you decide that you would rather run away, they'll just have to figure this out on their own."

I looked up at him hopefully and whimpered, "Really?"

He smiled at me softly. "Really."

SEVENTY-SIX

Max had created a sanctuary for me. A place to heal. A place to start feeling safe again. To try and forget the shadows lurking behind corners. To regain my belief in the goodness of people - human and alien. He wouldn't admit to arranging it, but I knew he was pulling the strings.

It was right up his alley, being the control freak that he was. Obsessed with protecting not only my life, but also my well-being. I sometimes heard whispers of his plans through the connection, even when he was trying his best to hide them, which strengthened my suspicions to his involvement in my 'care'.

He kept a lot of things hidden from me during that time. I was not to attend any meetings with the rebellion. Max forbid any of the members - except for his father, of course - to see me. He refused to let me be pressured into something before I was ready. He didn't want to even give them the chance to play on my sympathies, to guilt me into taking steps I was not ready for yet.

So he kept them from me, something I was actually very grateful for. That particular part of my current situation still frightened me. Aliens with powers. Aliens who wanted power. I still did not trust them. Even if they were fighting for a freer society, for a more humane society. Where humans were not used and hurt in order to advance their race.

I couldn't ignore the fact that they were still aliens and I had experienced the darkest sides of their race.

Max made sure that my days were filled. I didn't realize it until later why he was doing that. At first, it was exhausting. I was begging him for naps, for some quiet time to read, sleep or just be by myself. We had quite a lot of heated arguments about it, to be honest. But he usually won in the end. I was too tired to fight him. I didn't want to fight with him. After a while I was happy that he hadn't given in just to be nice to me. Or given in just because he could see that I was upset; even pleading with him with tears running down my cheeks.

He had already figured out that with my days filled, I had no chance to think. The preoccupation kept my obsessive thoughts away. It kept my ghosts at bay and hushed the memories. With one activity picking up straight after the other, I never had to be alone, rarely had to be surprised and flinch in momentary fear. Never had to be paralyzed by silence.

Max and I would take long walks together. We were 'hiding out' in a large house that had previously served as a hostel. Which meant that there were a lot of bedrooms, a large kitchen, a common room, a pool table, and several bathrooms. Behind the house was a big garden, with trails that led into the desert. Max had had an argument with his father about our walks as well. Mr. Evans hadn't considered it wise for us to walk off on our own like that, unprotected, and Max had responded by looking at his father like Mr. Evans lacked a suitable number of active brain cells.

We had survived capture at the hands of some cold-hearted vicious aliens, but we wouldn't survive a walk in the desert?

Apparently, Max had won that argument (as well) since we were still taking the walks, talking about everything between heaven and earth while our joined hands swung comfortably between our bodies.

At first, the walks had tired me out quickly. My muscles had atrophied with my banishment from freedom, my lack of food had contributed to an overall weakness, and my breathing easily got heavy and strained. But every day I grew stronger, more in tune with my own body again. It helped to exercise (even if the exercise only consisted of slow walking). The fresh air and the naturally repetitive movement of my body helped me connect my mind to my body.

In the evening, my dad and I played cards or watched movies. Sometimes we would cook together (a secret passion of my father's; the reason he had started up a restaurant) and I would smile behind my father's back as he experimented with ingredients, adding odd spices in weird combinations. Oddly enough, it always turned out tasting really good.

Alex and I would have long talks about our childhood. At first it had been excruciatingly painful to talk about my mom, but (with my permission) Alex had lead me through the emotions, taking off the edge with the magical help of his ability, and gradually I stumbled upon the need to talk about my mom.

I thirsted for whatever stories Alex might have about her. Stories of events that I had never witnessed; instances when Alex had met my mother without me being around. It was amazing to see her through Alex's eyes. Hear the admiration in his voice as he described her and laugh along with him when he retold some clumsy thing that my mom had done. She'd always had a tendency to get herself into the funniest situations.

Later on, I started talking to my dad about mom as well. He needed just as much healing as me, which bled into the conversations making them loaded with grief and anger. Anger about how she had been treated - without our knowledge - and grief about the beautiful person we had lost far too soon. But it felt good to talk about it. Even though we cried a lot, we also laughed a lot.

I'm not so sure that Max had planned for Isabel to bring yoga mats to the house, but that's what she did. At first, she only instructed me. I was a bit against it at first, but she told me that yoga would help me focus. Help me connect with myself and ground me to the earth. It would calm me down and give me tools to get out of stressful situations, when my mind might work against me and lock me up in an unwanted thinking pattern.

Like my anxiety attacks.

Hence, I started doing yoga sessions with Isabel. In the beginning, it frustrated me. I would look at Isabel's long legs, her feminine curves and the natural grace to her movements - when she moved from one pose to the next - and I would feel like a clumsy elephant next to her. My joints felt stiff, my back ached... I couldn't even reach my toes.

I cried a lot during those first sessions. I screamed a lot. Every day I told her that I wouldn't do it again. I couldn't understand how yoga could be peaceful. All it did was make me upset.

But Isabel was just as stubborn as her brother. Somehow she got me to continue, and slowly my body started to soften. The fear that was tightening my back, the grief I held in my joints, started to be released. I understood then why it had made me really upset at the beginning. The movements had wanted me to appreciate my body, to like my body. But I wasn't prepared for that. In the self-hating position I had been in, it was hard to get my mind to reroute, to let go.

While I did yoga, Max did push-ups, crunches, pull-ups, jumped up and down off chairs. Usually in the same room. Usually at the same time.

Isabel put up with it for about three days before she exploded on him. He just looked at her calmly as she jumped out of her cross-legged position of 'relaxation' and screamed at him to "Go somewhere else!" and "Can't you see that we are relaxing here?!" and so on.

Max didn't say a word in response. He raised a silent eyebrow at his twin-sister, before throwing me a wink, and left to take a shower.

The next day he sat down on the floor with his phone, scrolling through it while Isabel and I rolled out our yoga mats. But even though he was always looking down at his phone every time I looked over at him, I could feel his eyes caressing my legs and his warm gaze burning on my behind. I could feel the heat through the connection and hear his oh-so-not-pure thoughts in my mind.

Apparently, some yoga poses left very little to the imagination.

It didn't take long before lights were flickering and Isabel was ready to explode (again). She glared angrily at Max, telling him to join or disappear. No ogling of Liz while she was doing yoga.

So he grabbed one of the five yoga mats Isabel had purchased and rolled it out next to me.

I hadn't laughed that much in a very very long time.

Isabel and Max should put on their own show.

Isabel, who had been immensely patient with me through my crying fits and my screaming at the skies, had absolutely no patience for her brother.

While Max groaned and complained, falling over to the left and right as the poses demanded more balance than he possessed, Isabel huffed and puffed, brutally pressing Max's back in this and that direction when he wasn't doing the poses correctly, and frustratedly pulling at her hair when he couldn't get the most basic movements right.

There was absolutely nothing relaxing about that first yoga session with Max. My stomach was hurting from all the laughter while Isabel looked exhausted. At the end of it, Max caught his sister around the waist and pulled the back of her resisting body against his front, and pressed a kiss to her cheek while she cried for him to let her go with loud disgusted sounds.

All through it, I let the connection vibrate between Max and I. I let his feelings - the good and the bad - wash over me and fuel my feelings of normalcy.

At night, Max and I slept very tightly entangled with each other. At first, Max had let me be, limiting his touches to kisses, and no kissing below my shoulders. I could feel the desire burn through him, but the longing to feel truly connected to me was possibly even stronger. To connect on a deeply emotional level.

We were already working towards that level of emotional connection, but we were both acutely aware that the deepest level of our connection was only reached through sex.

I couldn't hide my own desires from him, and I didn't want to. I knew that it was important that he felt needed too.

Loving him, needing him was not the problem. My body wanted him on a very fundamental and primal level. But my mind wasn't ready. My mind still associated intimate touches with acts of assault. Of violence. With humiliation and shame.

But with every passing night, Max took it one step further. We both knew that there was a risk that I might stay afraid forever and neither one of us wanted that. So even if it was terrifying, I let him slowly take control of the situation. I put my fear into his hands. Just like I had willingly trusted him with my life not too long ago.

He would gradually move over my body. Touching my neck (where the memory of Sean's fingers were imprinted) one night and my breasts (which Sean had squeezed roughly and coldly) the next.

Max would brush his hands very lightly over the previously abused areas and use his healing abilities to infuse heat into the skin, trying to transform the phantom memory from coldness into warmth. Gradually, to my surprise, I felt it working. I felt the chill ease. I stopped flinching when he would come too close to those areas.

Of course, the reaction wasn't gone when Isabel would accidentally touch my neck during a yoga pose, making me jump, or when my dad had hugged me from the behind one time, his arm squeezing into my middle, spreading confining feelings of anxiety and fear into me.

With Max, in the darkness of our bedroom, I was prepared. I was expecting it. It was still a long way to go before I would stop reacting to it when startled outside of our nightly private cocoon.

The connection made us share memories. Made us see the torture our lover had gone through. We cried through the torture. Together. Max promised death to just about anyone that had ever laid a finger on me and with the memories of our nightmares haunting me throughout the days, I would chew my nails to the pulp to stop myself from screaming at the pain they had put Max through.

The nightmares weren't gone. Instead we shared them. Our nightmares blended together and we usually found ourselves fighting the evils of our dreams together. Which made it easier. It was still frightening to watch my mother in a pool of blood in a white bathroom, but it was much easier when Max was there, holding my hand, suggesting that I could take the opportunity to talk to my mother instead. To soothe her pain. Because even if it wasn't real and I wasn't really there with my mom, it would give me some peace of mind to feel that I had been able to do something. Not just passively watch while she writhed in pain.

When Command would give Max visions of a catatonic version of me, tied to a chair, with bleeding wounds all over my naked body, covering the paleness of my skin in dark red, and Sean would slowly drag the edge of a knife up the inside of my thigh, I would find blankets to cover up the dream version of me and push Sean away from dream-me and into Max's angry arms.

In our dreams, in our nightmares, we were a team. They left us exhausted, cried out and shaking, but we grew stronger with every one of them.

My loved ones would still occasionally find me locked in the bathroom, hiding from the world, trembling with fears. Max would be notified, ignore my lock of the door, and carry me out of there.

He always succeeded in bringing me back from that dark place. It went better and better with each time and eventually I stopped feeling the need to run into the bathroom to hide.

When I had started to get something of a routine in my current living situation, I finally got my period. I hadn't taken any notice of its absence until I was hit with its reminding presence, but I was pretty sure it was way overdue. One could blame it on the stress placed on my body (not eating, the fear, the torture) being responsible for postponing that normal regular incident. But I had a feeling it might have been the connection holding it back. I couldn't really figure out why it would do so, but I was glad that my period had stayed away during my captivity. When I hadn't had any access to getting clean. When I had already been feeling horrible.

I didn't dare to consider all the different ways Sean would have used it to degrade me. Making me feel even dirtier and unclean by refusing me sanitary products and showers.

Max had become aware of the reoccurrence of the less pleasant part of my monthly cycle before I had. We had been asleep, it being in the middle of the night, as he had been woken up by a dull ache in the lower part of his abdomen. He had traced the pain to me and before I was even awake, he had scanned my body and found the root of the 'problem'.

Even though he had been gentle in his approach to my body, I had awoken with a start (my nerves still too easily triggered) when he had pushed his hands underneath my bare form and lifted me off the mattress. My abrupt shove into wakefulness had made me instantly aware of that familiar feeling of the repetitive contractions of my uterus.

The sudden embarrassment and mortification had made me painfully wide-awake, because I had already been made aware of the wetness between my legs which immediately had made me wonder if I had bled all over the bed.

It was funny, really. Max had seen every inch of me. His lips had tasted every detail of my body. His fingers had touched me everywhere. But the idea of me bleeding in the same bed as him - bleeding menstrual blood - fueled me with deep mortification.

I had begged him to put me down, afraid that I would get blood on the arm he had in the crook of my knees. Instead his grip on me had tightened and he had told me something along the lines of how I shouldn't ever have to be in pain, while he had grabbed a blanket off the base of the bed and used it to cover up my half-naked body (I had only been wearing panties. White panties, of course).

He had carried me out of the room, out into the dark hallway, and into one of the bathrooms that had a bathtub. He had positioned me on the toilet seat, wrapped in the blanket (I had been careful to not sit directly on the blanket in case I bled all over it), while he drew me a bath. I had begged him to leave. He was well-aware of my embarrassment at that point and had (to my flushed indignation) pushed his hand through the opening of the blanket at the front of my abdomen, pressed his warm hand against the lower part of my abdomen and removed my cramps within two seconds, before he had put a light kiss to my lips with a whispered "I love you" before leaving me as I had requested.

I never found out if I had bled on the sheets. When I had returned, sanitary product in place, feeling refreshed and free of pain, the sheets had had a fresh and clean smell, and Max had beckoned me into his arms with a soft half-smile. Like so many nights before, he had curled up around my back and found my hand in front of my chest. But on that night, he had placed our hands against my lower abdomen. And throughout the night, before I had a chance to recognize the cramping starting up again, Max had sent calming energy into my uterus, giving me one of the most pain free period nights of my life.

Max was making it easy for me to forget the outside world. To forget that we still had to fight. That Command was on the loose. That Max and I needed to work on our connection.

The only time it shone through was when Mr. Evans came by. It was easy to see his impatience with the situation when he saw me in child's pose on a yoga mat and Max trying to do the same on his own mat.

But he let us be.

Diane would come by every day and cook for us. It was almost like I was part of a big family. Max, Alex, my dad, Isabel, Diane, Mr. Evans and I. The only one missing was Maria.

I thought about her a lot. Wondered what she was doing. Wondered what she was thinking. I wondered how they were managing to cover up how not just me, but all of the people surrounding me, were 'missing'. I hadn't had the energy to ask anyone about it yet, afraid that I wouldn't like the reason and hence immediately want to see Maria. Afraid that by doing so, I would jeopardize not only my own life but Maria's and everyone else's as well.

We had to stay hidden.

Nevertheless, even if Max's plan was to keep us hidden until I was strong enough to face the world - face the evil aliens - time was biting at our heels. Our time in our cocoon consisting of a makeshift family was running out and we were all very aware of it.

Even Max couldn't hide this from me.


TBC...

Yay for more! *laughs*

It's okay - we were getting spoiled with updates every day. Can't last forever I suppose.

Max is so sweet and caring! I had laugh at the though of Max doing yoga.Though I have to admit that I would be very much like Max falling on my face trying to do yoga. My body has not moved like that since I was like seven. Nearly 30 years ago! Liz really does need this time to heal. But i got a feeling that she won't have time to fully heal before this heat up for them.




Helen

The snipper team has Command in their sights. Just waiting on the green light and the innocences to get out of the way!

Roswelllostcause wrote:Max is so sweet and caring! I had laugh at the though of Max doing yoga.Though I have to admit that I would be very much like Max falling on my face trying to do yoga. My body has not moved like that since I was like seven. Nearly 30 years ago! Liz really does need this time to heal. But i got a feeling that she won't have time to fully heal before this heat up for them.




Helen

The snipper team has Command in their sights. Just waiting on the green light and the innocences to get out of the way!

All I can say is I agree with Helen.

From:
L-J-L 76

He is trying so hard to get her better. How is he doing?

Ashley (Morning Dreamgirl) - Thank you


Helen (Roswelllostcause)

Though I have to admit that I would be very much like Max falling on my face trying to do yoga. My body has not moved like that since I was like seven.

Liz still needs time. Even though it's getting better, she has some way to go. And Max does too. Even though he chooses to ignore it right now.

The snipper team has Command in their sights. Just waiting on the green light and the innocences to get out of the way!

Really? Great work! *thumbs up*

Thank you for the feedback!


L-J-L 76 - Thank you


Natalie36

He is trying so hard to get her better. How is he doing?

You know, this really moved me. That you see Max. Because he's probably not doing great. He's been through a lot as well. But he's avoiding to deal with it by focusing on Liz and her "problems". It's easier that way.

Thank you for the feedback!


From SEVENTY-SIX:

Max was making it easy for me to forget the outside world. To forget that we still had to fight. That Command was on the loose. That Max and I needed to work on our connection.

The only time it shone through was when Mr. Evans came by. It was easy to see his impatience with the situation when he saw me in child's pose on a yoga mat and Max trying to do the same on his own mat.

But he let us be.

Diane would come by every day and cook for us. It was almost like I was part of a big family. Max, Alex, my dad, Isabel, Diane, Mr. Evans and I. The only one missing was Maria.

I thought about her a lot. Wondered what she was doing. Wondered what she was thinking. I wondered how they were managing to cover up how not just me, but all of the people surrounding me, were 'missing'. I hadn't had the energy to ask anyone about it yet, afraid that I wouldn't like the reason and hence immediately want to see Maria. Afraid that by doing so, I would jeopardize not only my own life but Maria's and everyone else's as well.

We had to stay hidden.

Nevertheless, even if Max's plan was to keep us hidden until I was strong enough to face the world - face the evil aliens - time was biting at our heels. Our time in our cocoon consisting of a makeshift family was running out and we were all very aware of it.

Even Max couldn't hide this from me.


SEVENTY-SEVEN

I saw it through Max's eyes, through his memories. I felt it through his body as if it was a part of me. The kicks, the beatings, the coldness, the electric shocks, the fire. They had done everything possible to break him. While I had been subjected to Sean and his father - two taunting aliens with a short temper - Max had usually been subjected to Command.

Apparently, Command didn't mind getting his hands dirty.

Or maybe it was just that no other alien could handle Max.

Because even when it was excruciating - even when blood blurred his vision, attacks with energy almost stopped his heart (over and over again), and his skin was ripped open with an order from Command's ruthless mind - Max kept on fighting. His inclination to be sarcastic mocking towards his assailer did diminish as his body desperately wanted to surrender, but his mind never gave in.

Just like with me, they assigned the bulk of the blows to his psyche. After analyzing his responses to various mental stressors, they had reached the conclusion that anything concerning me would deeply upset him.

Hence, his love for me became their greatest weapon.

But it also became their biggest miscalculation.

Because the more insinuations they made about my condition at their hands - the more scenarios they painted of me being injured and tormented - the stronger Max's determination to get to me grew. The more focused he was to get through the torture. The more tenacious he was to not give up or give in. If he gave up, I was lost. Maybe forever. Without him, without the connection, I wouldn't be able to protect myself.

As I shared the memories of his experiences I wondered how he had managed to not go insane. As Command calmly stood in front of him and I felt my lip throb with Max's pain, the unhealed open wound on the back of my thigh burn, and my inability to breathe deeply due to a number of broken ribs. I felt Max's fear of what was to come while simultaneously feeling strong. Almost as if I - he - wanted Command to 'bring it on'. To prove that not even the leader of their society, the strongest member of their civilization on Earth, could break him.

By then Command had changed tactics. He had incorporated visions into his torture of Max. Command had constructed them with cold precision, making them frighteningly realistic, practically impossible to set apart from real experiences and perceived memories.

Through Max's nightmare I got the full HD-experience of Command's cruel imagination.

Me - writhing and screaming in pain after an argument with Sean, where I had refused to obey.

Me - being slowly burnt by short energy bursts, screaming, in direct response to Max refusing to break the bond.

Me - in a near catatonic state, lying lifelessly on a bed, while Sean continuously pulled energy from me.

The messages of the visions were clear: submit or Liz gets hurt.

And if Max and I were somehow communicating through the connection: make Liz understand that she has to give in, or she'll be far worse off in their 'care'.

Me - falling to my knees, my head clenched between my hands, before completely collapsing on the ground, my eyes staring lifelessly in front of me as death claimed me.

Max and I had started to learn how to take control of our nightmares, to make them ours, to overcome them. But this one - his nightmare of seeing me dead - left me paralyzed. Max's fear and panic, his guilt and remorse (over having ever laid a hand on me and thus having contributed to putting me in this position) was deafening. His helplessness over the situation, his loss of control and lack of power had made him scream. Had made him attempt to pull his mangled body towards Command with the intention of killing him. Even with the odds stacked against him.

He had been crying in the harrowing replay of his memory and was still crying as his terror ripped both of us out of the shared nightmare.

My heart was beating violently against the inside of my ribcage and my body was covered in sweat as my eyes flew open.

With my breathing harsh in my ears, mingling with his strained intakes of air, I shifted frightened eyes towards his hunched over back, the connection vibrating with an overload of emotions.

With a shaking hand, I touched the glistening skin of his back, touching the tips of my fingers to the muscles covering his shoulder blades.

He jolted at my touch, but didn't look back at me to verify that it was me. He knew where he was. He knew that he was back in bed. With me.

It didn't make the nightmare any less real though.

The adrenaline coursing through me was making my body feel like jelly and I struggled to pull myself up into seated position. His poorly restrained sobs, hitching at the top of his sharp inhalations, echoed eerily off the walls of our small room.

Heat was coming off his body in waves and I immersed myself in it as I pressed my breasts against his back, hugging the insides of my thighs to the outsides of his hips while wrapping my arms around his upper body and resting my cheek on the trembling area just between his shoulder blades.

I could feel his heart beat strongly, with panicky agitation, against my left hand as I gently molded my palms to his chest. Pushing up slightly, tears running down my feverish cheeks, I said gently into his ear, "Breathe."

A shudder moved through him, making his breathing halt, as he lifted his hands to wrap them around mine.

"Breathe," I repeated, my voice suffused with love, fear and tears.

His next breath was a heart-wrenching sob and my tears slid down his sweaty back as I pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, my arms loosening around him. To give him space. Space to breathe.

Images of me - of me laughing, of me crying, of me dancing with Maria and goofing around with Alex, of me being upset, of me hugging my father - were drenching the connection. Every emotion I might have ever experienced seemed to be stored in Max's memories. Documented from him watching me. For a much longer time than I had ever realized. The image of my face was so loud across our bond that it obliterated anything else and made my chest want to explode with undefinable feelings, so strong that I lost my own breath and started to float backwards away from him with the sudden weakness to my body.

But he stopped me, his fingers tightening around my damp hands, and his voice was breaking as he croaked, "Stay with me."

I bit my bottom lip as the sadness enveloped me and I started crying in earnest, large tears cascading down my cheeks as I pressed myself back up against him and whispered, "Always."

It was as if my heart couldn't handle the love he was sending me, instead spilling over out into my fingertips, making them tingle almost painfully.

I loved him so much. The clichéd phrase 'love you so much it hurts' took on a whole new meaning as I was faced with not knowing how to handle what I felt for him and the bottomless love he felt for me. On top of that, the knowledge of those 'people' having used that beautiful and pure love against us was forcing to break me apart at the seams.

While floating in the sea of our feelings, I had unconsciously been kissing his back, placing soft salty kisses along the curves of his shoulder blades, down the straight line of his spine, up over his tense shoulders and brushing the pointed ends of his collarbones.

It was not until he turned in the circle of my arms that I realized I had been doing it. That I had been trying to get the love out of me (to prevent myself from disintegrating from the inside out) through the adoration of his skin.

I glimpsed the pain in his expressive eyes before he melted our lips together, my body sighing in soft surrender against his. I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness of his distress against his scalp, while the moisture of his tears brushed my nose as I changed the angle of his kisses.

He was gentle, tender, and slow. Feeling every detail of my lips, drowning in the sensations as he memorized the softness of my lips. His hands were everywhere; brushing up my arms, over my shoulders, down over my breasts, up along my spine. The touch was fleeting, with barely any pressure, but the heat from his fingertips was enough to set my body on fire.

I gasped with the realization, pulled back, and looked down at his hands. My eyes verified what I had already suspected. The glow. It was back. Following Max's fingers like a beautiful sensual flame.

With my head bent and my mouth open in reverence, he started kissing my neck instead, and we made the mutual silent decision to move to a horizontal position. The mattress was soft against my bare back as Max lowered me down, his mouth moving back to mine, his kissing ignited with the passion from the glow shining in random trails across my body.

I moaned and dragged my fingers down the back of his upper body, my fingers pressing into his taut muscles, seeking the closeness only his body could bring me.

It was I who pulled his boxers down, causing his body to freeze and his eyes to search my face.

It was I who removed my own panties, leaving our bodies completely naked and intimately close.

It was only I who could make that decision and take that step.

Max had left it up to me, considering the scars Sean had made in my mind. Considering the invisible scars he had made on my body.

But there was no longer any question about me being 'ready', or that this was something called for by the desperation of the situation. It was not even necessarily a response to the overload of our emotions or the need for comfort to drown our traumatizing memories.

It was just meant to be. Max and I were not meant to be separated. We were meant to be connected in every way possible. Both mentally and physically. I had a feeling that the glow itself was pointing to us being open again, to us being accessible to our love and the expression of it.

He slowly rolled onto his back, bringing me with him, changing our positions. I let myself sink into my feelings for him and allowed myself to fully let him in. Something that had been difficult for me to do since what had happened during the days in captivity.

His gratitude about me submitting to the power of the connection was indescribable. It exploded out through my body, lit up my mind, and heated my soul. I felt his every emotion as I moved my hands over his body, slid my lips across his skin, and threaded my fingers through his hair.

I could feel him resigning control of his body to me, handing it over without needing to ask. Which was in sharp contrast to his resistance to letting me take charge when we had made love at the house in Hondo (which felt like forever ago).

This time I didn't even have to ask.

Images of me were still playing in his mind and naturally overriding the fake visions Command's sick 'imagination' had come up with as Max let my touches calm his breaths and slow down his heart.

I was drawing on his abdomen, amazed by the glow that followed my finger like a warm tail, adoring every hill and dip of the lines of his muscles. They were even more defined now, with the absence of almost any fatty tissue combined with the relentlessness he put into exercise.

Beneath the weight of my soft body was the warm and breathing body of a warrior. The body of a protector. But surrounding all that hardness, the tough and well-chiseled exterior, was only heat. Heat from love. Heat from passion.

The heat was building. The passion was overwhelming. The love was exploding. Just as his body had been calmed down into my acceptance of our connection, it was slowly building us back up into wild heartbeats and breathy gasps as the natural physical desire between us began to dominate.

I had already giving him the green light by removing our underwear. Still, his hesitancy over my decision was clear. It would destroy him if us having sex would awaken memories of Sean and his treatment of me. The calmness in my mind, the willingness of my body, convinced him to go with his heart. To tune into our bodies and let them connect.

I didn't think it was possible for Max to be any gentler or softer than the first time we had made love. But he was. It was a different type of softness this time. While last time had been about making me feel comfortable with my own nudity in front of him, about him touching me, about him loving me, this time his gentleness stemmed from him erasing unwanted touches and terrifying memories. He would never use any alien methods of erasing on me (not after that one time), rather he simply relied on the love through the connection, on making me feel desirable and cherished.

Still, there was nothing careful about our bodies coming together. We sank into each other on instinct, driven by not only a primal lust, but mostly a need to bind us together.

He was interlacing our fingers, flushing our sweaty palms together, as he moved inside of me. His breath was hot against my face, against my mouth, as he placed occasionally kisses on my mouth, on my cheeks, brushing against the droplets of perspiration on my forehead, while I was acutely aware of the hairs on his legs as they brushed against my inner thighs.

My whimpers arched my chest up against his, pushing our bodies together, over and over again. My hands were tugging at the hair at the base of his neck, my toes restlessly caressing the sides of his shins as I sought out his mouth, felt his tongue dance against mine and the power coil and swirl inside my being.

The ultimate feeling of pleasure curled up inside the center of my body, my feet pressed into the outsides of his hips and our lips separated as my head fell backwards with the hoarse cry of his name tumbling from my lips.

I almost expected us to be levitating by then. I probably wouldn't have been very surprised if we had been. I felt light as a feather, enveloped in warmth with soft tingles making my soul prickle with unconditional love.

It took me a while to return to reality. To feel the solidity of the bed against my back. To feel the perspiration on my skin, to feel his weight on top of me and to realize that he was motionless, watching me as I opened my eyes.

"You're amazing," he whispered, his eyes spilling everything that was throbbing through the connection.

A smile lit my face and I asked breathlessly, "What? No jab at my stamina?"

His eyes twinkled with his own smile and he moved every so slightly against me - inside of me - causing my breathing to pause with a gasp.

"I have no complaints," he said and leaned down to kiss me deeply.

I melted into his kiss, my body igniting with restored energy and my body signaled for him to start moving again. But as he did, something from the deepest corners of my rationality hit me and I tensed.

He immediately mimicked my tension, my screaming thoughts impossible to miss.

Protection.

He cautiously lowered himself from his elbows and down to flush my body against his with a restrained breath.

He knew that I was not panicking about the need for physical protection, which had - to be honest - been at the front of our minds lately. But rather I was starting to panic about the absence of protection against a pregnancy. A pregnancy at 16. In the middle of a rebellion. With our lives at stake.

Our eyes locked and he placed a slow kiss on my lips. "It's okay. I haven't-"

But it still didn't comfort me much. I had heard a thing or two about pre-ejaculation and its possibilities (albeit slim) at creating a child. Even with the unsuccessful attempts the Sergeant had made at making my mother pregnant, something was telling me that it would not be impossible for me to have a child with Max. Almost as if the connection would make it happen, if it 'wanted to'.

My heart was pounding in my chest, cold sweat mingling with the drying sweat of our love on my skin. "But what if-"

There was a concerned twitch to his right eye, his eyes roaming my mind and face, before he pulled back and away from me. I knew from my insight into his thoughts that he had just been worried that I never wanted to have children with him, but that my mind had (unconsciously) quickly abolished that idea. Now he was trying to regain rational thinking instead of being pulled into the emotional one.

"We can't get pregnant," I whispered, sitting up and looking at him as he moved his legs over the edge of the bed and dragged his fingers through his hair.

"I know, Lizzie," he answered softly.

My breathing was slowly returning to normal as I read the guilt in his mind. For not thinking. For not taking control of the situation. For being ruled by his emotions, by his fear of losing me, by his need to make sure that I was there; alive and whole.

I was grasping for my common sense, ignoring the nagging addition of a supernatural bond that could affect what I knew about nature (and might increase the likelihood of a pregnancy), and crawled up to him to wrap my arms around his shoulders and place a kiss against his neck.

"It's not your fault." My voice was muffled against his neck. "I'm sorry. I just got a bit freaked out. Of course nothing has happened. I just-"

"-don't like to lose control," Max filled in, echoing both of our thoughts. How alike we were in many aspects. How much safer we felt when we had a plan; a plan that enabled us to exert control over our lives and our surroundings. How it gave us a sense of security.

"Yeah," I mumbled and tightened my grip on him. "Max..."

"Mmm." He was subdued, deep in his analysis of his own body, trying to figure out if he had let it go too far, if he had jeopardized our future in some way, if he had added another life to our connection.

"That was amazing."

His thoughts stopped, his body stilled for a second before he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me. "Liz, I-"

"I've missed you so much," I cut him off. He needed to know how much it had meant to me. How much it had meant to me to take that step with him again. To let him back in.

I swallowed, feeling a twinge of nervousness to bring it up. "It was something different this time... You know, when I..."

"I could see it," he said in contemplation and turned around to move back up on the bed. I shifted to make room for him.

He moved up on his knees and looked at me intently. So intently that I found myself flushing.

"I could see it on your face. And I could feel it move through you. As if something was released. As if you let go."

I nodded quietly. "Exactly."

He leaned in, our noses touching, as he added with a soft smile. "And it had nothing to do with some creation of a baby."

I swallowed. "You sure?"

There was nothing but honesty on his face, not a single trace of hesitation. "Yes."

My exhalation was loud and filled with relief. "Okay."

He gently caught my chin between his thumb and index finger, asking, "Are you okay? With everything? With the whole-"

"Sex thing?" I filled in with a shy smile.

His mouth twitched in a smile. "Yeah."

His hand slid away from my chin, spreading goosebumps as it slid down my throat, as I leaned in to kiss him. My lips were still attached to his as I answered, "I'm more than okay."

"Good," he replied. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

"Oh?" I smiled, pulling back slightly to be able to look into his eyes. "You're not 'done' with me?"

He laughed softly. "You didn't really think that I would leave you alone after what you just experienced, after what we just experienced?"

The blush heated my cheeks and I slowly shook my head in negative. "I guess not."

He searched my eyes, his face turning introspective and filled with veiled expressions at his hushed confession. "I can't get enough of you. I fear I'm addicted to you, Ms. Parker."

I crawled up on his lap, feeling the effects of what the proximity of that new position did to his body as I replied slowly, "I'm all yours, Evans. All night long." I slowly licked my lips, guiding his gaze towards my mouth. "And every night there after. Forever."

He didn't reply in words. His emotional reply was enough.


TBC...

Does Liz realize how lucky she is to have Max protecting her and keeping her safe from the outside world??
She'd have lots of gals willing to change places with her!
Thanks,
Carolyn

Another fantastic part!

She is a winner, with Max! Who wouldn't have such a guy... especially when cramps prevent you from sleep! I too belong to the group of women with this painful problem and it stopped after my son's birth, when I was 34 years old!

So years of pains, one a monthg!

Anyway I love your update! Thanks EVE

Wish I was as lucky as Liz to find a guy like Max. He is the sweetest kindist guy ever! All he wants is to keep her safe.


Helen

Damn Command got away! Oh well let the hunt go on!

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. You left me speechless. Glad Max and Liz are connecting again.


From:
L-J-L 76