He Lays in the Reins [AN/?] ML, MATURE *JULY 16*

[azure_horizon]

Title: He Lays in the Reins
Summary: Because that’s what friends do, right?
Characters: TeamLiz, TeamMax, plus some OC’s
Pairing: Liz/Max, Michael/Maria, Liz/OC, Max/OC
Rating: Uh... R-NC17
Disclaimer: I no be owning none of these characters. Except maybe the OC's They belong to the Roswell PTB (Katims et al)

Notes: So, I know I have yet to update Linger but I was in much need of a Max/Liz scene of love and Linger isn’t there yet :p

Part One

Early March, 2006

He felt numb, sitting in the chair opposite her and he didn’t even want to try and comprehend what it was that she was going through. When she’d burst through the doors to the accident and emergency, he’d been the first to stand – the first to try and comfort her but she had shrugged him off (it had stung, he would admit it) and demanded answers. They didn’t have any; the doctors hadn’t given them any. She’d stomped and fumed and they had both tried to calm her but there had been no way to console her.

Then the doctors had come out, their faces grim and she’d slumped into her seat and didn’t say anything. She still hadn’t said anything let alone moved. He’d tried to talk to her but she had just stared at a spot on the floor to something he knew he wouldn’t see if he looked. Neither of them had tried to approach her after that; she sat there, silent and immovable, a huge shield around her that warned everyone to keep the fuck away.

Maria had come in but Liz hadn’t budged – hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. Maria didn’t take it to heart; she knew Liz. Just like we all did.

Jeff hadn’t made it; they were still waiting on news about Nancy but, the doctor had told them, the prognosis wasn’t good. It was just a waiting game now, willing the seconds to tick by but wishing that time would turn back. Beside him, Kyle shifted and Maria tucked closer to Alex but he stayed calm, ready to move to her when she finally broke down. He’d rather listen to her rant and rave and stomp her feet than the silence. It was excruciating, it was painful to watch. As the minutes ticked by, he could see her draw further into herself – preparing herself.

Four hours passed, five and on the sixth the doctor came to them, a nurse by his side. His face was grimmer than before and Maria let out a shriek, curling further into Alex, bubbling. Liz didn’t move; didn’t acknowledge what the doctor had said. They all nodded, and the doctor wanted to know if they could harvest their organs. Only Liz could decide but when the doctor turned to her, she didn’t even blink.

Greg took the sheets from the doctor with a tight, tired smile and held them in front of Liz, breaking through her invisible barrier. Her eyes focussed only long enough to take in the white sheets, the pen. She nodded curtly, not blinking, before zoning out again. She didn’t sign but the doctors had what they nodded. The doctor – an older, gentle faced man – placed his hand on her shoulder and she flinched under his touch; his eyes crinkled at the edges and he pursed his lips but didn’t linger.

Greg moved to sit beside her but her whole body tensed and he caught Maria’s eye and she shook her head. Just give her time. Greg nodded, feeling hopeless and useless, sitting back beside Kyle. He’d never thought – not once – that he’d be sitting amicably beside Liz’s ex, both of them grieving for her pain. Ever since Greg and Liz had started dating, Kyle had been around her and while Liz claimed they were just friends Greg wasn’t as naive as Liz seemed to be when it came to Kyle. They didn’t say anything to one another but as soon as they had walked in the doors of the ER they’d made a silent agreement that they would let it the fuck go – for Liz. For now.

Greg slouched further into the seat, waiting. Waiting for Liz to react. Waiting for the tears to come. Waiting for the chance to get close to her. Waiting to take her home. It didn’t come but they still waited. One hour turned into two and Alex and Maria left, whispering words to Liz that they all knew she wouldn’t hear.

And then there were three.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” Kyle said as he rose slowly and Greg winced when he heard a pop come from his knees. “Want some?” Greg nodded and told him how he liked it. “Don’t fucking move,” Kyle said harshly from the doorway and Greg rolled his eyes, knowing that their truce wouldn’t last long after all of this.

Once the door was closed, Greg tried again.

“Bella?” He said quietly, hoping that now they were alone she would look at him. She didn’t and he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her in some way but he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. But he would stay here for her, for when she needed him and she would – at some point. Kyle came back ten minutes later and sat beside him, sliding the warm coffee into his hands, the unasked question in his eyes. “No,” Greg said quietly.

Another group of people came into the room, tears streaming, talk quick and loud and restless. Liz didn’t even blink. She didn’t seem to be breathing and if he didn’t know for sure that she was flesh and blood he would be convinced she was carved out of stone. He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes and settled in.

Another hour passed and just as the fourth was winding to its end, Liz straightened up, her breath hitching in her throat and her head turned almost imperceptibly towards the door. He sat up – as did Kyle – and prayed that this was it, that she was finally reacting. But she remained frozen in her new position, almost anticipatory and Greg frowned.

The door burst open and Liz flew to her feet before she even turned around. In a flurry of activity, arms appeared around her back and the distinct sound of her sob broke through moments later. Greg stood up, ready to react – negatively, of course – when Max’s eyes rose to meet his. He felt his heart beat slow slightly before Max tucked his head into Liz’s neck, ducking down his tall frame to do it. Her sobs were painful, reverberating around the room but Max’s solemn words seemed to filter over the din. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg saw Kyle stand and clench his fist, scowling at the new arrival. Greg was just grateful someone had managed to get a reaction from her.

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart,” Max said, soothingly. He pulled back from their embrace and cupped her head between his hands, smoothing over her hair. It was an intimate gesture but Greg couldn’t bring himself to be jealous; Liz needed someone. “I saw the Volvo out front, do you have the keys?” Liz nodded and Max smiled, nodding as he wrapped an arm around her waist while reaching behind her for her purse. “I’m going to take you home, okay?”

Liz nodded and Greg heard the first word out of her mouth for over nine hours.

“Okay.”

Then they were gone and Greg sat back down heavily, staring at his hands before dropping his head into his upturned palms. Kyle stood above him, his fists still clenched but Greg just didn’t have it in him to say anything to him.

Kyle broke the silence just a few seconds later.

“What the hell just happened?”

--

The ride in the car was quiet but Max kept his hand in Liz’s the whole time. The Volvo sped along the slick Boston streets easily, the wipers slicing through the thick slush that fell from the sky before it had a chance to gather on the windshield. He turned to her every few minutes to make sure she was still breathing, she was so quiet. She would catch his eye and another tear would slip over and he’d smile sadly, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a kiss there before turning back to the road.

They didn’t need another car crash tonight.

At his rarely used apartment, he slid into the underground parking lot and killed the engine. Neither of them made any move to get out of the car and Max was both grateful and worried. He remembered how Liz had gotten when her grandma Claudia had died, back in high school; he knew this was so much worse than that. Both of her parents, dead.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip.

He couldn’t imagine that pain; wasn’t sure he really wanted to but he knew that if she asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to try and take it from her.

“You were filming,” she said suddenly, her voice almost flat and he turned to her, expressionless before he watched her glance down his body to the tight shirt underneath the short grey jacket and to the tight black jeans. It wasn’t that he didn’t normally dress well; he just didn’t normally dress this well. Add to the fact he probably had made up melting off his face from his four hour flight. He simply smiled and reached out to touch her face.

“I’ll always come for you.”

She closed her eyes and bit her lip and when he opened her eyes, they were endless depths of black. He had to bite back a groan, settling for a quick smirk instead.

“You always do.” Her voice was thick and doing very, very bad things to him in his tight trousers. He shifted and she licked her lips, her eyes raking over him again. “Max...” She said lowly, almost pleading – desperate almost. She turned away from him, to look at the grey wall in front of the car and he tugged on her hand until she turned to look at him.

“What, sweetheart?”

She licked her lips and Max stared into her eyes as she blinked up to him slowly, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, the fluorescent lights making it seem dull. Or that could be the fact she spent the last who knows how many hours in a hospital room waiting for word on whether or not her parents would live.

“Make me stop thinking.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and she moved with him, sliding over his waist as he slid the seat back as far as it would go. Her lips were on his, soft, slow and sensual and his hands lingered on her waist before he reached up to her hair, wrapping his fingers in it as he pushed her further into him. She sucked his bottom lip in between her lips and he moaned, his body reacting to her instantly.

“I don’t want to think tonight, Max,” she said breathily as his lips slid over her neck, his hands tugging her head further back to give him better access. She moaned, a strangled sound escaping her throat and he smirked against her skin as she jerked her hips into his. He ghosted his hands against the sides of her breasts and when she pushed her body further into his he could feel her hard nipples through the layers of their clothing. He growled at the contact and slid his tongue into her mouth. Her thin, trembling fingers found the buttons on his shirt and she took her time unbuttoning them, her nails grazing his skin, causing him to hiss.

“What about-“ He began but it was a half-protestation at best, as his fingers continued to tease her skin, and she cut him off with her lips on his and acquiesced. It had never mattered before; this is what they did, right? Friends, helping each other out?

He didn’t linger on it much longer as she made a high-pitched keening sound as his lips latched onto the spot just below her ear. She arched into him, causing much desired friction. He gripped her hips, guiding her motions and she bit down on his collar bone. Fuck, she was hot.

He reached for the edge of her mid length skirt and skimmed his hands up when suddenly he came into contact with skin. He stopped, pulling back from her and met her eyes before looking down as his fingers continued to fiddle at the bridge between nylon and skin. He was sure he looked ridiculous, his eyes wide, mouth open but he reached down to her skin and pulled it up almost coming right there and then at the sight of her pull ups. She wore this shit to work?

For the love of all that is holy...

He growled and he smiled down to him, pulling his lips back to hers. His fingers rose higher on her thighs and he knew before he even touched her that she was ready for him; she was so fucking warm and wet that he could feel how much she wanted him from inches away. He traced his finger of the lace of her panties and she squirmed. He grinned against her lips, loving the way she arched her body further into his. He used his free hand to pull her up against his body while his other hand slid her panties aside.

“Fuck...” he murmured as his knuckles grazed her wet warmth and his eyes fluttered shut. He felt her move and his fingers followed, his index finger sliding into her easily and they both hissed. He felt something at his lips and he opened his mouth, moaning loudly when he felt her nipple against his tongue. He lavished it and bit down, adding another finger into her.

“Oh God, Max...” Her hands were on his zipper and she was yanking and pulling and suddenly her hands were on him and oh fuck she was amazingly good at this. He arched under her as she arched into him, perfect synchronisation. He bit the lip that was between his teeth, soothing it instantly with his tongue. She moaned above him before drawing herself up and he quickly moved his fingers aside when she lined his cock up with her slick entrance. She opened her eyes and he stared into them as she slid down on him.

Holy mother of...

She moved slowly, leaning her head back as she bobbed above him and he slung an arm loosely around her waist; she needed no guidance from him.

He would never admit it to anyone if they asked – like they ever would – but they finished quickly, she coming down on him so hard and fast that he couldn’t help but follow her in her desperate plea to be free from the pain.

As they lay panting, the windows of the car steamed over, Max ran his hands up and down her back as she pressed her face into his neck, breathing her warm scent over his shoulder. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivered.

She pulled back from him at that, her eyes focussing on his chest. He slid his hands up and over her shoulder, up her neck and she shuddered. He cradled her head in his hands, like he had at the hospital and pulled her forehead down to rest on his. She met his eyes and the tears leaked over again.

“My parents are dead.”

Max nodded, biting his lip. He moved his thumb up and down across her cheek and she took a breath, trying to compose herself.

“They are, sweetheart.” She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face, clinging to her eyelashes and he wanted to kick himself for finding beauty in her pain. He didn’t wipe the tears away straight away, focussing instead of tucking her back into her clothes before turning his attention to himself. She leaned against his shoulder again and cried, heaving sobs racking her body and he crushed her to him. “I got you,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “I got you.” He rested his cheek against her temple, stroking her hair and back and legs sporadically, wishing their close contact could draw her pain into him.

Innumerable minutes later she pulled back, stroking her fingers down his cheek and smiled tentatively, her eyes still watery and he placed a chaste kiss on her chin.

“I don’t want to have to think tonight, Max.”

He manoeuvred them out of the car and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her head buried in the crook of his neck. He ignored the stares of the night watchman and the guy in the elevator; they should be used to scenes like this by now. He stroked her back, his fingers trailing up and down her spine and he concentrated on the numbers rolling above the door to stop the tears spilling over.

In his apartment, she refused to part with him and he led her to his bedroom, laying her on her side on his mattress. She sniffed when he moved away from her, reaching out to him.

“Don’t go,” she said and her voice broke. He stopped, turning back to her and touched her face with his fingers. “I don’t want anyone else to leave me,” she murmured and Max dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. He watched her as she watched him, running his thumb across her hairline. He smiled slowly, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m going to go get us both a drink then I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded reluctantly and he smiled, standing up. As he left, her sobs broke through the silence of the apartment and he staggered against the wall at the sound, barely managing to pull himself together enough to pull two bottles of water from the fridge. They’d known one another almost all of their lives, despite the fact they only really became good friends in senior year. He knew her; he knew her family and it killed him that she was in pain, that they were dead.

He stopped in the doorway, watching as she curled in on herself, her arms around her stomach and she sobbed painfully.

“I don’t want to think anymore tonight, Max,” she said weakly and he nodded, conceding.

He moved to the bed, setting the bottles on the side table and moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her body and tucked her into him.

This is what they did.

[azure_horizon]

Thanks for your kind reviews, folks It's still murky, the details of their relationship. But time only time will tell

Part Two

Max hated that he’d been brought back to Roswell for this. He hadn’t set foot in Roswell for almost five years and now that he had, he felt the small town atmosphere clog up his airways more efficiently than Hollywood’s smog ever could. He glanced over to Liz as she leaned against the window of Max’s rented Toyota – no need to get all flashy to drive around Roswell – staring out at the world they had left behind when they left for college eight years ago. The desert flashed by and the light reflected off of cars out in the hills but Max paid it little mind.

“Have you got a lot to take care of here?” Max asked as the long roads turned into winding suburban lanes and Max took the familiar twists and turns with ease.

“I don’t know. Mom and dad seemed to have things set in order, your dad took care of pretty much everything.”

Max’s father was the town lawyer and Max wasn’t surprised to learn that Liz’s family had gone to his dad for their legal advice. Call it conceited but Max knew his dad was the best the town had to offer. But still, it was odd to think of his dad taking care of Liz’s family’s business. He sighed and looked over to her.

“You going to stay around here for a while?”

She shrugged again and looked over to Max, smiling tightly as her eyes glimmered in the light with unshed tears. He smiled tentatively at her then turned back to the road in front of them.

“I don’t... There’s no one here for me to stick around for.” She shrugged and Max felt a pang. He reached over his hand and squeezed her fingers. She smiled again, the gesture not reaching her eyes before she withdrew her hand and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s hot as hell here,” she murmured as she lifted her hair off her neck and Max turned to her with a half grin.

“That’s Roswell for you.”

Liz rolled her eyes.

“I think I prefer Boston’s winters to this heat, it’s ridiculous.” Max turned to her lifted an amused eyebrow but she rolled her eyes and looked away, swatting his leg lightly. “Maybe not,” she said after a moment and Max caught the tone of her voice. He looked over to her and her eyes were focussed on her hands. “Maybe I should stay here,” she said but Max didn’t respond. “I don’t think I’ll be able to drive in the ice again after... what happened,” she continued and Max let out a sigh.

“Yeah,” he murmured, not knowing what else to say to comfort his friend. They pulled into Max’s parents’ street and saw it lined with cars, groups of people milling around the lawns, all in black. It seemed like the whole town had turned out for the Parker’s memorial service and when Max chanced a glance to Liz once again, he could see she shared the same dismal sentiments as him. No wonder they’d gotten out of there as soon as they could. He pulled up as close to his parent’s house as he could, sliding in behind a beat up Chevy and killed the engine. People turned to the car, some lifting their hands to their mouths when they realised who was in the car and others simply looked away. Max was grateful to those who did. He looked over to Liz. “You ready?”

She didn’t respond with words but opened the door and stepped out. Even from the driver seat Max could feel the searing, dry heat hit him. He sat in the car for a moment, debating whether or not this was a good idea. He hadn’t been home for five years for a very good reason. Ever since he’d started acting and became somewhat more famous than Roswell had ever thought he would, it had been weird to come home to his family. He could see swarms of people around Liz and he closed his eyes. She needed him; wasn’t that why he was here? He sighed as he opened his door, drawing in a breath that scorched his throat and nose and closed his eyes as they dried out instantly. He’d never get used to this heat again. Sure, California was warm but it was nothing compared to this.

A few people stared at him as he strode towards his former home and he nodded to a few familiar faces, stopping to speak to a few and exchange condolences. He’d lost sight of Liz as soon as he exited the car so he made towards the front door of his house, relishing in the slightly cooler temperatures of the inside of his childhood home. The hallways and rooms were at full capacity and Max decided to forego the lounge area and made his way to the overcrowded kitchen, searching for a cool drink.

“Well if it isn’t Maxwell Evans, deciding to drag his sorry ass home after all these years,” a voice said from behind him as he stood in front of the fridge. He ignored Kyle – just like he had at the hospital – and reached in and pulled out a bottle of water. “What, too good to say hi?”

Max turned around and smiled to Kyle, deciding not to get into this at Liz’s parent’s funeral. If anything, it would give her another reason to despise Kyle but Max wasn’t in the mood to draw anymore attention to himself than his presence already offered.

“Kyle,” he said by way of greeting and dismissal but Kyle simply rolled his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Evans, what are you doing here?”

Max’s eyes slid passed his shoulders and settled on Liz. From his peripheral vision, he could see Kyle turn to see what he was looking at before his eyes snapped back to Max’s, his stance suddenly defensive.

“Liz asked me to be here.”

Max turned back to Kyle when Liz disappeared into another group of people and Kyle glared at him.

“Since when are you and Liz friends?”

Max let out a short, low laugh and rolled his eyes before brushing by Kyle as he spied his mother on the other side of the room. He didn’t need to answer Kyle’s questions; he was nothing to Max, always had been.

“Mom,” Max said in greeting as he wrapped his arms around his mother’s slight frame. Diane Evans was slight, with big blond hair that seemed to never be tame in the Roswell heat and as Max dipped his cheek to press against it, he remembered why dry air and hair didn’t get on well. Still, he loved his adoptive mother and when she lamented over how long it had been since she had seen him, he instantly felt guilty for staying away for too long. “You all right?” He asked of his mother when he saw her red rimmed eyes. The Parker’s and Evans’ had been friendly, Max knew.

“I just spoke with Liz,” Diane elaborated as her chin wobbled again and Max pulled her in for another hug. “She’s such a strong girl,” she continued and Max nodded.

“She sure is,” he murmured as his eyes sought of the topic of their conversation. She was in the lounge, surrounded by pawing grievers but she looked relatively comfortable. Kyle was hovering in her vicinity, ready to pounce should Liz falter and Max rolled his eyes. Kyle was relentless, always had been.

“Jeff and Nancy were such good people,” Diane murmured, shaking her head and Max smiled tightly, looking down to his mom. He’d really only really gotten to know Liz in senior year and hadn’t had the chance to formally meet her parents. Sure, he’d ate at the Crash and saw them there all the time and they knew who he was but there had never been a reason for a formal introduction. But they’d raised Liz and they’d raised her well; that was enough for him. “I forget sometimes that you and Liz are friends,” his mom continued and Max smiled down to her.

“Yeah but we have been out of this town for years now, mom,” Max replied, smiling again. He really had missed his mother.

“Kyle told me she went out to Los Angeles with you,” his mother continued as they moved around the room, Diane removing covers from plates (and plates and plates) of food, smiling amiably to others as they hovered around the different rooms.

Max shrugged.

“She didn’t want to be alone and wouldn’t let me stay with her in Cambridge,” he lifted a cool sausage roll and popped it in his mouth, wincing at the taste. “It did her good to get some sun for a couple of days.”

Diane tutted.

“She could have come here.”

Max rolled his eyes and nudged her in the side and pointed to Liz trying to squeeze out of a group of older men, all red faced and friendly.

“Those vultures wouldn’t have left her alone. She didn’t need that.” Diane conceded with a nod and Max watched as Liz was cornered by Kyle. He smirked sympathetically over to her but she didn’t see him.

“Are you here for long?” Diane looked hopeful and again Max winced.

“I’m in the middle of filming, mom,” he said lowly, hoping no one else around would hear. A few heads turned infinitesimally towards them and he lowered his voice again. “I have to get back tomorrow night,” he informed her and watched as her face fell.

She was silent for a few minutes before she turned away from him, even as she gripped his forearm between her dainty hands.

“It’s good that you’re here for your friend,” she said and moved off. Max couldn’t help but feel that his mother was jealous.

--

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Max said as he cradled the bottle of beer in his fist, his feet dangling in the air. He turned back to the balcony, to where Liz lay curled up on one of the loungers she’d pulled out of the house. They’d finally made it to the CrashDown and Liz had refused to go in the front door, insisting they climb the ladders that led to the balcony outside of her old room. He remembered doing just that once or twice in senior year but he’d never thought for a second he’d ever do it again. Max knew Liz wasn’t dealing with her parents death; she had left the estate in his dad’s hands, had escaped away from the Cambridge news reports by following him to L.A., and had avoided going into the main part of her parents flat above the Crash. It pained him to witness, but he also understood.

This was just how she dealt with this.

“I guess,” she mumbled and tucked the blanket higher up on her shoulder. He swung his body around and hunched forward, snorting when she glared at him. “Don’t move so fast when you’re sitting on the edge of a thirty foot drop,” she muttered, closing her eyes when he smiled back at her. “I don’t want your manager suing me for damages.”

“I do stunt jumps from higher than this,” he informs her lightly and she smiles in response. She looks exhausted; dark circles formed under her eyes days ago and had only gotten darker as she’d refused to sleep. She’d barely eaten and he hated to think of when last had a shower that was longer than three minutes; her hair, though clean, was matted from lack of styling and her face was blotchy from the sun.

Still, she was beautiful. He didn’t think she knew how not to be. It was part of the reason why he couldn’t ever say no to her.

“Max?” He looked up to her and made a soft noise in the back of his throat to let her know he’d heard her. “Do you remember the first time you were up here?”

Did he ever? The images and sensations had been seared in his brain for all eternity; he’d taken her up against the wall, hard and fast just like she’d begged him to. Her grandmother had just died and, like the other night, she hadn’t wanted to think. Lost in the memory, he could still feel her walls clamping down around him, the feel of the bricks on the wall biting into his palm as he thrust into her harder and harder. Her back had bled from the scratches and he’d helped clean her up afterwards, guiltily, but she’d assured him then that it had been worth it. And oh God, how could he contradict that when he’d had what had been the best orgasm of his life at that point.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” she said, amused and Max smiled.

“Yeah, I have a vague recollection,” he teased and hopped off the small wall, walking towards her. He sat on the lounge chair opposite her and reached out with his hand and brushed the strands of hair from her face. She peered up at him from her lounging position, her fingers gripping the top of the blanket like it was life force. “Why?”

She stared up at him for a long time, her darkening eyes making Max’s groin tighten in anticipation. She gulped and Max mirrored the motion, watching as her eyes fell to his lips.

“Care to re-enact it, since your memory of that night seems to be fading?”

An hour later, Max was patching up the long scratches on her back, reliving the fresh images of the best orgasm he’d ever had.

[azure_horizon]

When all your plans are made out lying on the floor
and all your dreams are turning into nothing more
When all your hope has left you know you're not alone

High School

Liz’s timetable had been a blessing this semester; while she didn’t have the same classes as Maria – the science types and the artsy types tend not to make the same choices – she did have the same lunch period as her and Alex. The only downside of that, however, was that she had the same lunch period as Kyle Valenti. Which was why she was expertly crouching her way along the wall to the door of the biology lab in an attempt to avoid him. She had told Maria at the time that it would be a bad idea for her to go out with one date – even a ‘pity date’, as Maria had called it – with him. It hadn’t been good, she hadn’t had fun but she was pretty sure it was enough to stave off any lingering desire to date any of the boys in her school year, ever.

She let out a relieved sigh when the door clicked shut behind her and she watched from the darkened room as Kyle Valenti sauntered on past, the look of confusion fixed on his face. With a sigh, she thumped her head against the wall and slid down it until her backpack hit the floor. She dropped her head into her upturned palms and shook her head. What age was she? Twelve? Since when was it appropriate to hide from people in the bio lab?

She groaned and shook her head some more, wondering why she insisted on doing this to herself but a low chortle of laughter broke her out of her reverie. She snapped her head up, pushing off the floor so fast she almost tripped over thin air and whipped her head around until she saw the source of the noise.

“That’s what you get for going on a date with Kyle Valenti.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. Max Evans: a jock but not usually a jerk was propped up against the workbench at the back, swinging back on his chair so it rested on two legs.

“What are you doing in here?” She half-snapped at him. Despite the fact that she and Max had had pretty much the same classes since they first started going to school, they weren’t exactly what was commonly called friends. They acknowledged one another’s presence every now and again and sometimes when they were paired up in AP Biology, they would hold a conversation about the school rumour mill. The school rumour mill had obviously been talking about her and Kyle going out the previous weekend.

“Lunch hall’s too crowded,” he responded and she couldn’t help but detect the despondent tone of his voice. She took a step towards him and caught sight of the crutches leaning against the table he was swinging from. He caught her staring and he shrugged, though she could sense the disappointment leaking from him in waves, even through the darkness. “That’s the end to my sports career,” he said numbly and Liz winced.

“I heard about that this morning...” She began but trailed off and met his gaze. “I didn’t realise it was you, though.” He shrugged again and Liz winced. She’d heard about the absolute disaster that had been the game on Saturday night; the injury that would no doubt end the player’s football career. She hadn’t thought much about it at the time, other than a passing thought of sympathy for whoever it was and she wasn’t entirely sure why it was bothering her now that she hadn’t paid better attention. “What happened?”

He sniffed and Liz looked up again to meet his eyes but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Defensive end who didn’t know his own strength,” he went on with a wince and Liz nodded, wincing with him. She moved closer to him, stopping at the bench in front of him and pushed herself up onto the table top, resting her feet on one of the stools. He eyed her sceptically and Liz wondered if maybe she should just leave but he kept talking, so she stayed. “Cruciate ligament tear,” he went on and Liz looked to his legs wondering where the cruciate ligament was. “My knee,” he said and she could hear the amusement in his voice. She looked up, smiling sheepishly but he simply shrugged and looked away. “It’s nice not having someone console me when I tell them.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“I’m glad my naivety amuses you, Max,” she said with a half smile.

There was a long pause and Liz wondered if maybe now was her time to leave. She shifted slightly and Max looked up to her again, a small frown on his face.

“I thought you would know that, though,” he said with a shrug and Liz pushed back onto the bench, frowning down at him. “You want to do biology, right?”

Liz let out a laugh at that and shook her head.

“Bio research, not medicine.”

She thought she saw a flush on his cheeks but in the darkness she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh.” The silence stretched on and Liz thought again about leaving but was strangely reluctant to go. She had thought the silences would be awkward and she was pleasantly surprised when they weren’t; not like Friday night with Kyle. She shuddered and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Max, who chuckled. “Since it’s stiflingly hot in here, I can only gather that you’re thinking about Friday night and since it was a shudder rather than a shiver, I guess it’s safe to assume that you’ll not be seeing Kyle again?”

Liz frowned over to Max with a scowl, which seemed to amuse him and she found herself letting out a breathy resemblance of a laugh.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. He’s not exactly...” She trailed off and motioned with her hands, hoping that Max would pick up on what she was leaving unsaid. When he snorted, she knew he did.

“I could have told you that. The guy is as dull as the gray paint on the wall over there,” he said with a nod towards the poster covered wall and Liz tried to hide her amusement.

“Do you need anything?” She said as she hopped down onto the floor again, feeling the phone in her pocket vibrating. She needn’t check it, she knew it would be Maria wondering where she was. “Or are you going to hide out in here until someone discovers your hiding hole?”

Max’s grin didn’t reach his eyes but Liz didn’t dwell on it.

“It’s just easier in here right now.” Liz frowned at him. “I don’t know how many times I’ve been asked ‘what are you going to do now?’.” He huffed and Liz felt that pang of sympathy again. “Like I have the answer to that after three days.”

“You could always go into modelling.”

She flushed as soon as the words were out and Max barked out a laugh, while he quietly shook his head.

“Too shy.”

Liz snorted.

“Right.”

He raised an eyebrow at her tone and Liz tried to soften it with a smile. She walked back over to the door and picked up her bag, rummaging through it as she set it on the desk. She pulled out the small lunch box she’d picked up at her locker and pulled out the roll that she’d made earlier in the day. She walked to the back of the room, Max’s eyes following her every movement, and laid the sandwich on the table in front of him. She heard the dull thud as his chair settled back on four legs.

“Liz what...”

“Just take it,” she said as she began walking away. She stopped when she felt his hand on her wrist and she felt her pulse pick up the pace at the contact. She looked to their hands for a moment then up to his face, to his small grateful smile and she felt her shoulders relax slightly.

“Thank you,” he said softly, quietly and Liz couldn’t stop the smile that took over her lips.

“It’s no bother.”

When she left the room, lunch period was almost over.

[azure_horizon]

Part Four

“You know, Liz,” Maria said as they sat on stools in the Crash Down and Liz turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a good thing I have a subscription to E! Daily.”

Liz swallowed the scoop of ice cream she’d deposited on her tongue as she frowned at Maria, trying to fend off the sudden brain freeze.

“What do you mean?” She asked and looked away from Maria’s pointed glare. She knew something had been bugging Maria all day; her best friend, while being by her side all day, had barely spoken ten full sentences to her other than to make sure she was okay. Liz noticed it was worse when Max was around.

“Otherwise I might not have ever found out that you were in LA with Max.”

Liz paled.

“What?”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted Maria to know where she was; in fact, Liz was sure she remembered calling her best friend and leaving a voicemail but that, at that moment in time, seemed irrelevant. She had known that going to LA with Max Evans had been a risky move; Liz couldn’t remember picking up a magazine in the last two years that didn’t have a story or picture of Max in it. His life was chronicled in the glossy pages of the trashy magazines Liz had had to stop reading when Max’s face graced just about every page. And a part of her had known that her visit would most likely be printed – in words or with a picture – because after all, walking out of LAX with Max’s hoodie sweatshirt on and the Max Evans’ arm wrapped around her shoulders was a photo op not to be missed the rabid bulldogs that were the LA paparazzi.

“There was a full spread article about the ‘unknown’ who was hanging around on and off set with Max Evans.” Liz paled. She hated how insignificant that made her feel; Liz had to remind herself that she was working on her doctorate and she was far from insignificant. “A couple of other magazine ran the story yesterday; a few even managed to get sources close to the actor to confirm that you two are just good friends.”

Liz sighed. Maria didn’t like Max; she never had, not even in high school. She looked at Max and saw “jock”, much like the rest of the student body. She lumped him in with Christian and Kyle and all the other guys who had ended up playing the game both on and off the field. It hadn’t mattered to Maria that Max didn’t sleep with half the student body the way Kyle ended up doing, or that he didn’t play football for the last two years of school, or that he was actually a decent guy. He had always been – and most likely always would be – Max Evans; jock, jerk and brother to resident ice queen, Isabel Evans.

“Maria...” Liz started but Maria cut her off and Liz closed her eyes, letting hurricane DeLuca run her course.

“I mean, who the hell are these sources?” She scoffed, the ice cream in front of her long forgotten. “I mean, Max Evans doesn’t have friends. And what does he think he’s doing anyway? Just because you slept with him in high school after your grandmother died doesn’t mean he can swoop in and try for a repeat performance.”

Liz scoffed at that, feeling the sting at the back of her eyes and the pang of inferiority Maria’s words once again conjured up.

“You really think that is why Max is here?” Liz lifted her eyebrow. “With all the women chasing him down in LA, you think he came here for a mercy fuck?” Liz snorted. “He doesn’t need to come to me after my parents died to get laid, Maria.”

Maria paled slightly and her eyes tightened almost imperceptibly at the mention of Liz’s parents’ deaths. But Liz didn’t dwell on either thought; she had successfully avoided really thinking about it all day, which was a feat considering the amount of condolences she had received at the small gathering. She only hoped her resolve lasted throughout the funeral the next day.

“I’m not saying he needs to; he just likes the knowledge that... that he has can use your... your need for companionship, to feel something other than pain to his advantage.”

Liz knew Maria didn’t know how close to the truth she actually was. For all that Maria knew, she knew very little. Liz had only told her she’d slept with Max that one time back when her grandmother had died and that was only because Maria had found half the empty condom wrapper underneath the chair on the balcony the next day. Yes, Max and Liz came together in times of need but neither of them used one another.

It didn’t feel like that, anyway.

“And why would you even go to LA with him? Since when are you guys friends? What about Greg?” Liz did roll her eyes at that last one.

She and Greg had been friends longer than they had dated; in the six months of their ‘relationship’ they’d gone out a total of seven times, never gotten beyond gentle patting and Liz knew he’d been with other women.

“Maria...”

“No, Liz. I won’t let him come in here and try and sweep you off your feet when you’re at your most vulnerable.”

“Maria, he’s not trying to whisk me off my feet.” Maria tutted and shook her head. “You won’t believe it when I tell you that Max and I have been good friends since senior year. You didn’t believe it then and you won’t believe it now.”

“You never see him! How can you class that as being a good friend?”

Liz narrowed her eyes at Maria. She may still class Maria as one of her oldest and best friends, but they had grown apart over the years, despite their attempts to remain close. There were parts of Liz’s life – rather large, Max Evans-oriented parts to be precise – that Maria didn’t know about and she was pretty sure the same thing could be said about Maria’s life. While Liz had gone to Boston, Maria had stayed in New Mexico.

“Proximity hasn’t been a major contender in our friendship,” Liz stated, gesticulating between herself and Maria, “has it, Maria? Why can’t that be the same as with Max?” Maria looked hurt by the comparison but Liz simply rolled her eyes, reaching out to grasp Maria’s hand in hers. “I know you’re just looking out for me, Maria and while I don’t appreciate my picture being all over the internet, going to LA – getting away from Boston – was what I needed. Max knew that and I knew what I was getting into when I went there with him, okay?” Maria moved to speak again but Liz cut her off. “I’m not getting involved with him, Maria. Not like that.”

Liz could see the debate on Maria’s face and watched as the warring emotions battled for victory. Maria had never been particularly good at hiding her emotions.

“Okay.” She opened her arms and Liz moved into the space created, letting Maria wrap her up in her thin arms for a moment. “I just... I love you.”

Liz nodded. “I know you do. I love you too.” She sighed and drew back from her, glancing around the room for the clock. It was later than she had thought and she knew she needed to go back to the Crash. A rather large part of her really didn’t want to; it was the same part of her that had run off to LA, making sure she avoided all of the news reports about the accident. She took a breath and shook her head; she really didn’t want to think about that. “I better get back.”

Maria looked up sharply, glancing to the clock Liz had just looked at.

“You can stay here, if you want.”

Liz swallowed the lump in her throat. Maria was making it very easy for Liz to run away from her problems and she was more than a little tempted to take her up on her offer. It would do her good to spend some time with her friends the night before her parents’ funeral. It would also be best that she actually face the fact that her parents were dead.

“No,” she said quietly, ignoring the way her voice cracked. “I... have to go.”

She felt Maria’s hand on her wrist but she didn’t look up; instead, she blinked and the tears slipped down her cheeks. She swiped at them angrily and sniffed.

“Let me drive you.”

Liz simply nodded and followed Maria out to the car.

[azure_horizon]

A/N: Just a short update for this fic because I’m tired and the format I was going to take for this was confusing my wee brain. More soon, though

Part Five

2001

Michael shook his head and snorted. Michael wondered if they were even aware of what the hell was going on and it was amusing to watch. It had been weird to witness it to begin with; Max was just... not the kind of person to talk to people outside of a very small group. He may be a jock but he was an okay kind of guy but then, Michael may be biased since he pretty much grew up with him. But, that was besides the point: Max may be a jock and he may be popular but he was never actually overly ‘friendly’ with any of the student population apart from Isabel and Michael.

And Michael wasn’t sure when it was that it all started exactly and he wondered if they even knew – if Max knew – what he was doing. Smirking, Michael clasped his hands behind his head and watched the almost non-existent exchange between his best friend and the girl Michael used to sit next to in English. She had been moving to join the end of the lunch line when her foot had slipped out from under her. Max had been by her in an instant, one hand on her elbow the other on her back as he steadied her. He hadn’t said anything to her and Liz didn’t stop talking to the crazy chick she was friends with and that is what it was that had gotten Michael’s attention.

Liz hadn’t even turned to acknowledge that someone had been touching her and she was normally a very gracious person so Michael was sure she wasn’t just being rude. Had she known it was Max? And if so, how? Because, from the angle and Max’s approach, there was no way she could have seen him. But she must have, right?

Max sat down across from him and Michael dropped his hands from behind his head and looked to his best friend.

“What was that?” He asked and Max looked up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Michael simply nodded in the direction of the lunch line and Max’s frown deepened.

“What?” He asked.

“The Parker girl; you just stopped her from falling on her ass and she didn’t even look at you man.”

Max’s frown deepened even more as he turned his body slightly back towards the lunch line and looked over his shoulder, probably scanning for Liz’s body.

“I didn’t even notice.”

“You didn’t notice that she totally blew you off?”

Max’s eyebrows twitched and he didn’t meet Michael’s eyes. Michael frowned.

“I didn’t realise I had...”

Michael furrowed his brow. How could he not know he’d touched someone to stop them from falling the hell over? Now, it’s not that Max wasn’t a nice guy but he just generally didn’t really touch anyone outside of sport and he just... touched Liz Parker and didn’t realise.

Michael assessed Max as he sat, his brow still furrowed, picking away at his sandwich – a Galaxy sub from the Crash (what the hell?) – but not actually eating any of it. His body was still angled back towards the lunch line and he looked seriously uncomfortable. Michael shook his head and picked up his apple, biting into it with a loud crunch.

Just then, Liz walked by the table, behind Max and Michael saw his friends’ shoulder twitch as his head tilted in her direction and Michael suddenly realised that Max had a heightened awareness of Liz Parker’s location. But why...

He caught Max’s eye and Max quickly looked down and Michael’s mouth dropped open slightly.

Oh.

Oh.

“You and the Parker girl?”

Max snapped his head back up and glared at Michael.

“Shut up, Michael.”

Well, shit.

[azure_horizon]

A/N: I'm trying something new with this one... Trying a couple of different formats. I chose the movies at random, based on year so... Yeah. Hence the 'huh' factor of that Let me know what you think.

Max Evans – Heart Throb and Hollywood Hero
But the question is “Is Max Evans really single?” Diana Lane finds out
August, 2003

It’s well known that Max Evans is Hollywood’s new ‘It’ boy, appearing in leading roles in last year’s ‘Insomnia’ and currently touring with Johnny Depp to promote the highly successful summer blockbuster ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’. But after almost two years in the industry, does anyone really know Max Evans?

In a quiet cafe in L.A., with the late afternoon sun melting his eyes into pools of honey, it’s no wonder there are hoards of women screaming for him just outside the doors.

“It’s still a lot of weird for me,” he says as he blushes, trying to talk over the sound of the large crowd outside. “I mean... I didn’t... It’s weird.”

He’s cute too, apparently, because when I push him a little further to explain he simply shakes his head and smiles, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, his blush deepening. As we’re about to continue – he’s on a tight schedule, with a flight departing LAX in less than four hours – there’s a loud thud against the window and we both turn to see a young woman pushing a sign up to the window reading “Max, will you marry me?”

He laughs again and shakes his head, lifting his eyebrows in a quick gesture of incredulity and I laugh with him. It’s easy to forget, then, that he’s not even twenty years old yet. Certainly at his age, marriage is the last thing on his mind. Right?

“I may not be ready to get married.” A curious answer but he simply smiles cryptically and narrows his eyes slightly. “I’ve already found the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

I was certain I heard a few hundred thousand hearts breaking all across that globe and I’m sorry to bring it to you ladies that it seems Max Evans is taken. Who is she? I hear you ask. Where has she been these last two years?

“She’s been hiding in my closet,” he laughs and takes a sip of his diet coke before shaking his head. “No, I’m kidding, she’s not. I’m not some kind of... She’s not tied up in my closet.” Well hello fantasy. “She doesn’t know she’s got to put up with me for that length of time yet,” he says with a smile that is almost sad but he quickly clears his expression and takes another drink. He shrugs again and I smile. I'm afraid to tell you, ladies, that he is so far gone with his mystery girl it's a miracle we've not found out about her before now. Which really begs the question, where has she been? How has she been able to stay away from him these past two years?

Or is she actually hiding out in his apartment?

“No,” he laughs again. “My manager will kill me for that one. And so will she, come to think of it. If she reads this, which she probably won’t.” He looks embarrassed for a moment and I almost want to put him out of his misery but the fact that Max Evans talked himself into a hole in front of me makes me feel more than a little privileged. “I mean... she doesn’t read magazines. Especially when they’re about me.” Oh? “Yeah, she just... doesn’t.”

After filming in both the Caribbean and LA, Max Evans looks good. He’s been working out, he says. “My manager hired me a PT because of my knee, rather than have me running around doing God knows what to it.” His manager, Nicholas, is more than aware of the injury Max received playing football at school. It’s hard to say one is happy someone else got an injury but I’m pretty sure there are many young women out there who would agree with me when I say I’m glad Max came to the west coast to go into acting, rather than to some college somewhere to play football where we wouldn’t have heard of him for another couple of years. Because we all know Max would have been successful.

“Well, you know, I don’t really like to think of it that way. I wanted to play but now I can’t. So I’m doing this instead and... I’m enjoying myself. It’s hectic and I miss my friends from home but, you know... This, despite its weirdness, is pretty awesome.”

Home, in case there’s anyone wondering, is Roswell New Mexico. Yes, that Roswell.

“Yeah, they’re still coming in their droves searching for... whatever it is they’re looking for.” He shrugs and shakes his head, half grinning. “But no, I’ve never seen anything to make me believe. If the truth is out there, it’s certainly not in Roswell.”

He’s got jokes, too. His lady – wherever she is – certainly is lucky.

His cell rings – or rather, vibrates across the table – and he moves away to answer it while the screaming outside intensifies as he stands. It’s quite a sight to behold, really, and I feel sorry for Max’s bodyguards; the ones he had to hire after some particularly over eager teenagers tried to run off with him at the PotC premiere.

“My mom,” he elaborates when he returns, smiling wryly as he pockets the phone.

“Max?” he turns to the tall woman beside him and she smiles tightly. “Time’s up.”

He’s almost as surprised as I am and when I check my watch, sure enough, time is up.

“Promise me you won’t print the stuff about me and Michael, huh?” He says with a wink and I grin. Who could resist that, hm? Certainly not I.

When he leaves – through a side entrance, so as to avoid the crowds out front – the room seems strangely empty. The man has a way with people that I’m almost certain he’s unaware of. He’s dangerous, in that respect, and it’s only when I read through my notes that I realise why no one knows much about Max Evans. He answers questions without actually... answering the questions.

So ladies, my advice is this: if you get the opportunity to spend two hours with Max Evans in a coffee shop just outside downtown LA, make sure to use it wisely.

[azure_horizon]

Boston, September 2004

Liz sighed and leaned back in the booth she and a couple of her college classmates had managed to nab before the crowds really started arriving. They were close to the make shift stage so she could hear the sounds of the band setting up and she smiled. It had become a habit for her and her friends to come to this bar every Thursday night for Band Night, bonding over beer and the new sounds from some of the bands. It also started another trend, once Max had found out her Thursday night ritual and she wondered what song he had managed to convince the band to play, this time.

She laughed out loud when Kyle – not in her class, but her friend from school – plunked down beside her with a tankard of cheap beer. There was no head and very few bubbles but he was drunk enough to think it worth the four dollars he paid for it. She snorted and reached for her own bottle of Heineken and took a long pull.

“Have you written your pastiche for our Modernism class?” Red asked and Liz looked over to her and nodded. “Damn, I’m so far behind,” Red murmured and Liz smiled to her over the top of her bottle.

“I wrote mine after watching a world war one documentary on the history channel with my dad last weekend.” Red, and a few others, quirked their eyebrows in her direction and she could pretty much feel Kyle’s eye roll and she playfully elbowed him in the side. She snickered when he choked in his beer and turned back to her classmates. “I based it on that poem by McCrae... In Flanders Field.”

Greg eyed her with amusement but didn’t say anything and Liz stuck her tongue out at him. His date for the evening – a girl who was in their tutorial – tucked herself under his arm and Greg attended to her.

“How long was it?”

Liz shrugged and took another drink of beer.

“I’m struggling with the analysis of it, though. I mean, I know what I intended, so how can I be expected to be objective on whether or not I was successful at it?” She grumbled and the table murmured in agreement, except Kyle, who slurped noisily on his beer. Liz rolled her eyes.

“I was thinking we could send it to each other and we’d send back our thoughts on what makes it a modernist piece.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

They all looked at one another and shrugged.

“They didn’t tell us we couldn’t...” Liz stated, meeting the eyes of her class mates who were snickering at a loophole to what seemed like an impossible situation. “I mean, it will help us with our analysis skills anyway...”

Greg laughed and gave her the thumbs up.

“You had me at ‘I was thinking’,” Serena smirked and Liz smiled gleefully. This assignment, while not overly difficult, had been proving to be the hardest yet. How could the tutors expect them to objectively analyse their own work? It just wasn’t fair.

“I’ll just need to write mine...” Red grumbled but they all smiled and laughed it off. The assignment wasn’t due in for another ten days, anyway. They had plenty of time.

“Ohhh,” Serena said fondly as the band on stage began strumming their guitars. “I love this song!”

Before Kyle could protest, Serena had dragged him into the middle of the room – it wasn’t quite a dance floor – and the table was laughing again. Liz had learned a few months ago that Serena had a bit of a crush on Kyle, who’d become a permanent fixture in their little group since Liz bumped into him again almost a year ago now.

“I hear Max Evans is supposed to be in a new movie with Leonardo DiCaprio,” Red said as she checked her cell phone for the tenth time that evening.

In the interest of her personal life, Liz had never told the people around the table that she was a good friend of Max Evans. Not that she doubted them, at all, but she didn’t want to have to question whether or not they were friends with her just because she knew someone famous. It was also kind of her little secret that she liked to hold over them, something she could keep of Max to herself. Too often, his personal life was splashed across magazine covers and newspapers. She liked to think she was his best kept secret, as he was hers.

“That would be cool,” Greg commented and nodded but Liz stayed mute.

--

Liz couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips as the song started. Part of the game was her having to guess which song he’d picked because it could be any of them. He purposely varied the bands and the style of music but Liz had yet to get one wrong. Grabbing her phone, she pulled up a text message and typed in the reason he had chosen that particular song:

You know me, you don’t mind waiting
You just can’t show me but God I’m praying
That you’ll find me, that you’ll see me
That you’ll run and never tire...

She remembered the conversation they’d had almost two years ago about this song. He’d asked her to tell her the most romantic song she knew and explain why it was so. She’d thought about all the different possibilities – from Whitney Houston to Kenny Rogers – but that verse kept repeating itself over and over in her mind.

”Because when you love someone... really love someone... It doesn’t matter.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

“Anything. Nothing matters; not time, not distance... You just... And it’s not just about sexual desire either,” she tried to explain but the words failed her. “It’s just about this... desire to be with someone, to just know that they exist. To know that they’re there for you.”

“Sounds kind of like us.”

She made a soft sound in her throat but dismissed his comment.

She always did.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

Liz was startled from her memory by Red’s outburst. Though outburst wasn’t quite the term for it; in fact, she seemed to have frozen, her gaze locked on something behind Liz’s head and Liz shot a confused look over the table to her.

“What’s wrong?”

Red’s jaw slackened but she didn’t turn to Liz. She just kept staring.

“I... I can’t believe it. Speak of the devil and he shall appear but holy shit, Liz!”

Liz huffed but refused to turn around. Red’s mouth opened and closed, the motion repeating again and again and Liz kept staring at her until she felt a warm breath on her neck that sent shivers down her spine. Her nipples hardened instantly and her breath stuttered out of her in stunted blows while goosebumps prickled on her arms.

“With no secrets, no obsessions...” The voice was like velvet caressing her ear and she felt heat pool simultaneously in her groin and her cheeks and she slowly turned her head to him, her eyes wide and disbelieving. “Desire...” Before she knew what was happening, Liz’s arms were wrapped around his neck and he was pulling her from her seat to draw her closer to him. She didn’t quite squeal but she came quite close, and she giggled, pulling herself tighter against him. She felt him nuzzle his nose into her neck and she heard his loud inhale and she grinned, returning the gesture. “I missed you,” he murmured as he tightened his hold on her momentarily before pulling back from her slightly to look down to her, his arms still about her waist.

“What are you doing here, Max?” She asked incredulously, grinning up at him all the while. He simply smiled and lowered his head to brush a kiss against the side of her mouth. She expelled a breath of air at that but smacked him when he chuckled smugly against her skin. “You should have told me you were coming!”

“And miss this adorable look on your face? No way,” he said lightly, finally pulling away from her. Liz scowled up to him and swatted at him again before turning back to the table.

She froze instantly as she was met with eight pairs of identically incredulous eyes. The blush returned, full force and Liz cleared her throat, glaring over her shoulder at Max as he snickered lightly behind her.

“Guys... this is Max Evans.”

Red was the first to snap out of her stupor and she turned her fiery look on Liz.

“I think we know who he is, Liz!”

Liz bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at the tone of Red’s voice. The eyes widened once again when Max slid his arm around Liz’s waist and pulled her into his lap as he dropped onto the bench he’d yanked her from. Liz wanted to feel even a little remorseful but when Max’s fingers played with the exposed skin on her hipbones, remorse was the last thing she thought about feeling.

“I guess this explains why you don’t talk about him,” Em murmured, still stupefied and Liz snickered slightly.

“You mean to tell me Liz doesn’t talk about me?” Max asked, pouting up to Liz but she ignored the petted lip and rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!” Red grumbled again, her eyes glued to Max’s face and Liz felt uncomfortableness grow at her continued staring. It was for that reason that she didn’t tell people about him, or why they didn’t visit one another except when they met up in Roswell; it was just too damn uncomfortable for her to have people watching her every move.

“Evans!”

Liz turned at Kyle’s exuberant greeting and raised her eyebrow. Max and Kyle didn’t exactly get on so Kyle’s enthusiasm was... surprising.

“You know him, too?” Red accused and Kyle shrugged, smiling sloppily over the table at her as he simultaneously tried to pull Serena onto his lap.

Drunk, of course, Liz laughed and shook her head.

“Of course I do. We went to school together, duh!”

“You... you...!”

Kyle shrugged again and Liz turned to Red.

“Roswell is a small place. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Red gaped and Liz began to feel sorry for her. Until, that was, Max’s knuckles grazed her stomach and she all but rolled her eyes at the jolt of electricity that shot through her at the contact.

“You’re the girl from the interview!”

Liz blanched slightly. The Interview. She’d heard about The Interview. In fact, Max had called to tell her about The Interview with Diana Lane last year. It had been the talk of her tutorial group for weeks – just who was Max’s mysterious girl? There was a part of Liz, though she would never admit it, who wanted to know just as much (if not more) than the girls in her group. But she had never quite plucked up the courage to ask him about it.

Max made a small sound of contemplation behind her and she turned slightly to look at him, snorting lightly when his fingers dug into her hips at the motion. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.

“I don’t know, Liz... Are you the girl I’m going to spend the rest of my life with?”

Liz smirked.

“You know you couldn’t handle me for that long, Max.”

He laughed lightly, the sound jovial and Liz forgot for a moment that there were other people in the room when he looked at her like that; all intense and beautiful and playful. She shuddered slightly and he smirked but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be annoyed at his reaction; if his power over her stroked his ego, then more power to him.

“I can’t handle not touching you the way I want to right now, that’s all I know for sure,” he murmured a few minutes later when quasi-normal conversation had resumed around the table.

They were back at her apartment in no time.

[azure_horizon]

A/N: Another of these 'different' styles. This also gives a tid-bit of what to expect from the plot

Part Eight

Feb 2005

Even Liz hadn’t been able to ignore the pictures splashed across magazines, internet sites and ET, so when she heard the song, she’d waited until the end of the night to send him the lyrics.

While she told herself she shouldn’t have been surprised, that she’d tried to school herself so that when images like that did inevitably make it to the press, she would be prepared and it wouldn’t hurt. But seeing the buxom blond with blue eyes and a ‘killer rack’ by Max’s side as they waited for entrance to some LA club had little splinters of Liz’s heart scratching at her insides.

But then the end of the night rolled around and no other song would do, she sighed and tried to squash down the happy tingling the splinters caused, she grabbed her phone and text him.

Word is there’s a new girl in town... but I just say I want you, exactly like I used to.

Within seconds he’d responded:

Took you long enough to figure it out. I know a place where we can get away.

--

September 2002

Maria, visiting for a few weeks in an attempt to escape the clutches of her recently engaged hair brained mother, eyed Liz over the rim of her glass as Liz tapped idly at her phone, waiting for the moment she would need to use it.

She hadn’t heard from Max for twenty eight days, other than the songs on Thursdays and while she knew it was ridiculous and clingy and needy, all she wanted was to hear his voice. She’d had a crappy month, with test after test and piles and piles of reading to do and all she wanted was to hear the sound of his voice in her ear, reminding her that it was all worth it.

As the night was drawing nearer its close, she began to feel panic settle in. While it was true that they had never set this routine to paper, it had been going on for years and the thought that he might miss it was... startlingly painful.

A few drinks later and the bands began to gather up their gear and Liz closed her eyes in pain. He had forgotten.

Just then her phone buzzed and she looked down, seeing his name flash with a message alert and she avoided Maria’s gaze as she flicked the buttons and opened the message.

And it's almost like a corny movie scene
But I'm out of frame and the lighting's bad
And the music has no theme
And we're all so strong when nothing's wrong
And the world is at our feet
But how small we are when our love is far away
And all you need is you

¬-

December 2006

I can’t breathe until you’re resting here with me

-

July 2002

He set her body alight and he wasn’t even there. She smirked.

You get me closer to God... my whole existence is flawed.

She could almost imagine he was there beside her.

¬-

January 2005

Even when they’d been fighting, he kept it up. Sometimes the songs were melancholy, sometimes angry, sometimes hurtful.

She wasn’t sure what to make of tonight’s.

And it may not make any sense now that we’re apart but I’m going to stop pretending that I didn’t break your heart...

-

February 2009

I count your eyelashes, secretly
And with every one, whisper ‘I love you’

[azure_horizon]

June 2006

“What are you going to do?” Maria asks as Liz folds another shirt into the small suitcase she’d brought with her.

Liz shrugs and doesn’t look up. She’s not sure what she should say, anyway. That she’s afraid? That she’s terrified that she’s alone? That while she knows her parents are gone, she doesn’t really understand it? That her heart refuses to accept that they are gone?

The deadline for her dissertation had come and gone the week before but Liz hasn’t left Roswell since she came back with Max more than two months ago. The University had called but she’d declined their offer of an extension and now she isn’t sure what she wants to do. Her doctorate had been her life for the past two years and... she didn’t even have that anymore.

Max was back in LA and she hadn’t spoken to him since the pictures of him with Tessa Harding had been released, two days after he’d left her in Roswell. He had tried to call her but she had switched her cell off and left it off since she last spoke to the university. She didn’t want to talk to him; she couldn’t then and she still can’t now. She had finally been ready to accept that what they had between them was something more than what she had been trying to pretend it had been for years and years. And what happens? She gets her heart broken, just like she knew she would.

Could she explain any of this to Maria?

She’s not sure she would, even if she could.

“Are you just going to go back to Boston and sit in an empty apartment like you have been while you’ve been here?” Maria huffs as she walks around the room and Liz tries her utmost to ignore her. “Your parents wouldn’t have wanted this for you Liz.”

She spins on Maria then and throws a couple of tee shirts at her, screaming words she can’t even understand. It’s only when she drops her head into her hands that she realises that tears are streaming down her face and she sobs. Not just any sobs either; deep, hacking sobs that vibrate through her chest and make her throat burn. Tears burn her eyes and cool her cheeks as she drops to her knees – crying for the first time since the funeral.

“Damn you, Maria... Damn you.”

--

The apartment in Boston is bleak and feels empty as she looks around it. It’s the same as it had been when she left it months ago – the clothes strewn across her bed as she’d hunted for things to take. Her laptop sitting half closed on the desk. Books piled at the side of her bed remind her of the effort she’d put into something she took no effort in throwing away.

She closes the bathroom door with a click and meets her reflection in the mirror above the sink. It’s not a pleasant sight and she looks away before she can take a closer look at the dull features staring back at her. Stripping is a slow business but there’s nothing sensual to it; she just wants to be naked but her lethargic limbs can’t seem to keep up with her mind’s commands and she finds it takes her longer to get in the shower than she’d intended. The water is lukewarm as it hits her skin, the water heater taking its time to recover from its long winter of disuse but she stands under the spray like it’s a lifeline. She squirts some liquid body gel onto a sponge from a half empty bottle but can’t bring herself to go through the motions of cleaning herself. She drops the sponge and opts for shampoo instead, quickly rubbing it through before rinsing.

In her bed, the sheets are cool and the air around her tepid. It’s an odd mixture and she finds that, combined with the emptiness she feels, she has never felt so alone. She rolls onto her back and stretches her arm out to the side, glancing to the pillow beside hers. She knows that if she rolls over, she may still be able to smell him on the sheets. She decides that, in the morning, she’ll buy new sheets and toss the ones that smell like him.

It’s hard enough during the day; she needs the night as her ivory tower.

The clock in the lounge chimes quietly twice and she looks up to the blank ceiling, watching the shadows flicker across the design there. She sighs and sits up, tossing the sheets aside and her feet hit the cool floor sending a shiver up her legs.

When the cab pulls up to his apartment block, she pays the man but doesn’t return his smile. She checks the garage first and the Volvo is there, just where they had left it and she presses her hand against the cold metal as she walks by, her fingertips skimming across the silver paint with reverence.

She used to love that car.

Now she’s not so sure.

His bed isn’t much better than her own but at least here, she doesn’t have to imagine that she can smell him on the sheets. She knows she can.

--

She cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder as she flicks through the magazines in front of her. Maria is talking incessantly about something that Liz couldn’t care less about right now. She hums and haws in the right place and Maria doesn’t seem to notice her inattention. She knows it won’t last long but she hopes to use it for as long as possible.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet, Liz?”

Liz answers in the negative as she picks up a magazine sent to her via that university and she flicks through it as Maria tries to convince her to go back to school next year.

“Maria...” she starts and shifts on the seat, dislodging the magazine. It falls to the floor and she leans over to pick it up, her breath catching in her throat as she sees the advertisement there. She swallows and air rushes into her lungs as her eyes linger on the small advert in the literature magazine. “I have to go,” she says and hangs up, re-reading the words over and over again.

Could she? Is this what she needs?

She picks up her cell and dials the English department at the university, wondering if Paris really was the answer.

[azure_horizon]

This is another experimental piece. I hope you understand. It's kind of... literally what I would write if I was stuck on a plane. The bits in bold are quotes or lyrics... You know how these things just pop into your head.

Part Ten



Maria thinks I’m running away. And considering where I am, I guess I can now admit to myself that she was at least half right. The guy beside me is sound asleep, his head lolling from side to side and his snorts are really starting to irritate me. I should have taken Maria’s advice and went for first class but...

Figures, of course, that I’m writing this on the back pages of my copy of Dracula because it certainly feels like the life is being sucked out of me as the picture that haunted me months ago stares up at me from the dated magazine. I’ve tried to ignore it but still... here I am mutilating a book because of it. I wonder if I have a mild form of hypergraphia...

Words written on a page have often more emotion that those spoken. Certainly, they have more impact.

I can’t even distract myself by looking out the window because there is only darkness; the Atlantic is hidden from view and the magazines have been read and the movies just don’t hold my interest. I just want to write but I don’t even know what I want to write but just to be in motion... to try and write words out is just...

Cathartic.

Can I handle this? Do I have enough of a handle on my own emotions to be able to can it and concentrate on the emotions others have written for us? Can I write and talk and teach properly? And in a language that is not my own? The only upside is that the seminars are all English... they did choose English literature for a reason. God, how could I be so stupid? A two month crash course is not going to get me through living in Paris.

I’m panicking. Writing wasn’t supposed to panic me.

They will see us waving from such great heights...

I would hope that, of all the characters in Dracula, I would be Mina Murray. Max...

Dracula? Is that too harsh? He’s my Dracula right now?

They look good together, I have to admit. Much better than he and I ever did and I guess that is why I never let whatever the thing between us was go any further. People would look at us and wonder – what is he doing with her?

I don’t want to be known as Max Evans’ girlfriend. Or lover or...

I want to be known and Liz Parker. After everything I’ve been through, I think I deserve that at least. I’m not modest enough to think that my brain isn’t worth anything – I know it is. I need to make my own way first...

I can’t believe what it is they try and pass off as food on planes. It is disgusting. I don’t know how Max puts up with it with all of his flying.

I want to be with you, forever.

I hate that book so much that I actually think I enjoy it. There is absolutely nothing in it to write about and yet... it’s still amazing. When I had first read it, I thought Max was like Edward – the dashing hero, come to sweep me away. Something unattainable. I guess, in that respect, I was right. He was unattainable but he’s certainly no Edward Cullen. Sure he’s sullen and moody – at least, the boy from school certainly was – but he’d given up his hero complex a long time ago.

Then again, he did come for me at the hospital. He’s just.

Max Evans

An apparition, almost. Ridiculous. In moments like this I realise I’m just another Max Evans fan girl.

We’re landing in Heathrow and I know that as soon as I get to Paris I’ll regret tarnishing my book like this. A constant reminder of how ridiculous I am. I might just buy a new one and transfer the notes. Will it have the same meaning if I buy a French copy? It wouldn’t hurt to buy one anyway, I guess. The clouds are grey and thick with rain, despite being promised sun.

I only hope it’s better in Paris.

I don’t know what I was expecting but the dingy train – the RER B – from the airport to the centre of Paris reminds me too much of home so I don’t think I can

The Stade de France is massive! I think my interest in Rugby just sky rocketed. Stade Francais – with the pink flower on their shirts. At least the sun is shining. The metro isn’t as hard to figure out as people led me to believe. I like it. Lines and numbers. At least I can understand the voice telling me when the next stop is.

I always thought I’d be coming to Paris with Max – or someone I love, anyway. Not alone. Although alone I have more opportunities, I guess.

Today on the street
In the metro...
It’s a melancholy day