I struggled with this part, but finally got it to what I hope is a decent stopping point. The actual conversation with Cal is getting bumped to Part 60, which I hopefully will finalize and post
soon.
jbcna- Welcome. Did you mean to quote the chapter?
keepsmiling7- thanks again for your lovely comments. Though sorry it was an accidental quoted post of a prior chapter. BUT the resting and healing continues in this part.
clueless- your hopes are no longer dashed. I am back (FINALLY) with the new part.
I included references throughout the chapter that I think has enough detail to not include a previously for. But do ask if you want more reminders! Time really got away from me with this part.
Previously...
[From Part 56]
Max leaned towards one flower at the base of the tree. Hovering his hand over it, a golden shimmer glowed beneath his palm. Max closed his eyes for an extended beat, perhaps silently bidding Zan goodbye. As Max stepped back from the flower, Liz observed in wonder at how upright the flower now stood, its petals a brilliant shade of blue. And above it, carved into the trunk, were the words: “Z.E. was”.
[From Part 57]
Isabel gently gripped Max's hand.
I’m so sorry Max… He heard her soft voice echo in his mind.
Normally, he would resist the connection, immediately pushing her out. But Isabel quickly preempted that by bringing up the memory of him promising that he wouldn’t mentally block her again. With a humorless laugh, he relented to her presence. It had been years since they had communicated only through their linked hands.
Isabel was a warm comforting presence in his mind—a balm to heal his weary soul. The loss of his son had sunk so deep into him; leaving a gnawing ache in his heart. He felt lost. Her hand was a lifeline much like it had been back in 1989. He remembered how she had led them through the desert and reassured him that those bright lights in the road were not a bad thing. That it meant they were found.
[From Part 58]
With a disbelieving shake of her head, Amy held Max’s shoulders and placed a light kiss on his cheek. As she stepped back her eyes shining with emotion, she spoke, “If there’s anything I can do, you let me know.”
Max instantly began to decline the kind offer, but Amy forged on, “Even if it’s pie. You liked blackberry right?”
With a shy smile he nodded.
PART FIFTY-NINE
Max drifted in darkness long after the stars disappeared. His chest had initially tightened under the panicked assumption he was once more in the deprivation tank. But then he slowly realized he wasn’t cold. The darkness around him was not oppressive. Instead, it gently wrapped around him coaxing him to rest. Though his limbs did not feel restricted, there was a sense of deeply set tiredness weighing down his body.
He should feel ebullient knowing his family and friends were alive and physically unhurt. But in the darkness, all he could think about was what had been lost. A brief image of his son flashed before him. Until Tess had shown up with the baby she claimed was his, he had always pictured his son to have his dark hair and Tess’ blue eyes. That imagined version appeared before him giggling and eyes lit up with delight.
His son toddled towards him and as Max stretched out his arms to scoop him up, he realized the darkness had lifted revealing the flower dotted grass around the lake where he had said goodbye to Zan.
He was leaned against the tree he had carved, the disturbed bark around Zan’s initials digging into his back. His son ungainly moved through the grass. Once he was in reach, Max pulled the boy close to his chest.
Da..da
The soft call echoed around Max infusing him with foolish hope and devasting agony. Cradling Zan, he indulged in the dream choosing to gaze in wonder at his cherub face. Gurgling, Zan gave a half smile causing Max to laugh. But then Zan began to cough. The sound was delicate but the echoes around Max seemed to amplify its intensity. Soon the coughs became a series of desperate gasps. All the while, Max kept his hand on Zan’s chest willing it to glow and heal his son’s lungs.
But no glow came, and the cacophonic sounds stopped.
Clutching his limp son to his chest, Max rocked against the tree murmuring sorry over and over. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he refused to swipe them away. The loss still felt new and the pain raw. He placed a reverent kiss on Zan’s head uttering one more woefully inadequate apology.
Zan disappeared.
Frantically, he looked around for his child. But his panic soon turned to resignation as he noticed the setting around him begin to fade in colour. He tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see the return of his hellish existence.
We’re not done, Mr. Evans.
As the dreaded voice of his captor snarled in his ear, he could feel his head being roughly held back, his body immobilized in a frigid metal chair. Tiredly, he thought,
what more do they want from me?
Where are your ships hidden? Ms. Harding crashed one markedly different from the one we’ve studied for years… There must be more…
His head was roughly pushed forward as the agent demanded,
Answer me!
But Max had no answers. As the agent melded back into darkness, he idly wondered where
did Tess get the ship? With the army breathing down their necks, he hadn’t thought to ask. The memory from Xan indicated that she never made it past Earth’s atmosphere. Why else would their son not have made it?
The Granolith is no place for a child, an unborn one no less.
With a sigh, Max peered through the darkness expecting the blue light to appear.
Darkness remained.
Pressure built in Max’s chest as he anxiously wondered what the voice meant. “What do you mean? What happened to my son? I thought it was just a way home,” Max cried out.
It’s much more powerful than that.
Confused, Max began to ask what that meant, but then the darkness lifted to reveal the swirling energy of the granolith.
It embodies great potential and power but should only be wielded by its guardian. Used right it can bring prosperity, abused it can lead to disaster.
Max stared in awe as the granolith shifted into various scenarios showing a flourishing kingdom with bountiful food, miraculous healing, and impressive structures. Throughout he noticed a single figure standing in the center of it all—his past self, he surmised.
As the coloured energy receded into darkness, he called out, “You’re the guardian?”
As are you.
His stomach sank in realization. If he had gone with Tess, his son might have survived.
He never should have entered the Granolith.
The interjection stopped his usual downward spiral of guilt. Though he was still wary of his alien side, he appreciated being privy to some memories of his past life. Perhaps it would help him prepare for the coming war Cal warned him about.
Protect the Granolith.
It was a phrase Max had heard multiple times before. Not masking the irritation and bitterness in his tone, Max retorted, “What good will it actually do? All it’s done is brought betrayal and pain.”
Used wisely, it will bring success to you all.
Frustratedly, Max stated, “I followed the book… the manual Alex translated—”
The voice interrupted,
You don’t need the book. It doesn’t reveal everything. Only the guardi—
Max asked hotly, “And how do I figure out how to use it?”
In response, Max was suddenly blinded by blue light. Lifting his hand to shade his eyes, Max stared at his seal. He could feel it drawing him closer compelling him to reach his hand out to it.
Max woke up.
Disoriented, Max’s eyes roved his surroundings searching for what had woken him. His body was taut as he expected to find some intruder. He peered intently through the darkness of the room, the remnants of his dream scattered leaving his mind antsy and uncertain. He only heard the steady breaths of his friends and family sleeping around him. The soft sounds began to calm him down and he took a deep breath himself, his head sinking into his pillow. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted over to him. Curious, he slipped out of the bed and gingerly made his way out of the room.
Stepping into the living room he heard faint rustling from the kitchen. Barefoot, he silently entered the kitchen and was surprised to see his father seated at the counter, coffee in hand as he perused a newspaper. The scene was so familiar and yet felt out of place. It should have been their kitchen table, his mom making breakfast, while his father made remarks on the latest headlines. Max’s lips quavered for a moment as childhood memories sprang to mind. He quickly bit down on his lip to stop any outpour of emotion threatening to come out.
His father lifted his head as he took another sip.
“Max!” His father called out to him, his tone a mixture of warmth, surprise, and concern.
Max moved forward joining his father at the counter. “Couldn’t sleep?” Max queried.
“It’s after 6—force of habit,” his father said before taking another sip. Lowering his cup, he observed his son for a beat. “How was your sleep?” He asked the question cautiously, as if worried how Max would respond.
Max shrugged non-committedly. The images from his dream flickered in his mind causing his stomach to twist. Needing a distraction, he poured himself a cup of coffee.
The smell was incredible. As the dark liquid filled his cup, the memory of the last time he had coffee came to mind: the day he had given up Xan for adoption. His father had asked him if he was sure, and as much as it pained him, he knew he had to do it.
I’m a marked man… His frustration rang clearly in his sorrowful plea. It was incredibly unfair that he could never enjoy a normal life. He tried hiding away from the world. He tried helping whomever he could. Yet, he was deemed a monster… an abomination that needed to be destroyed.
And that is what the Unit had done— bit by bit they had removed his semblance of self— leaving him as an empty cracked shell. Anything he tried to hold onto would only slip through the cracks damning him to a hollow existence.
He felt a sudden weight on his arm. Turning to it he spied his father’s hand, a solid, comforting weight. Timidly, he looked up at his father noting the concerned frown on his face.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” his father gently suggested.
His lips quirked ever so slightly. Taking one more sip of coffee he remarked, “Didn’t I tell you? Aliens don’t need sleep.”
His father released a heavy sigh. “Even so, rest can do wonders,” he astutely commented.
Max stared into his cup for an extended moment debating whether to respond.
His silence prompted his father to take a different tack, “Something on your mind?”
Max took one more sip, slowly nodding as he lowered the cup. “I…” Max trailed off and shook his head unsure how to start.
He heard a stool scrape on the floor. Looking up he noticed his father now fully faced him.
“How did you handle the loss?” Max’s voice was strained, his grief over Zan weighing down his every word.
His father was quiet for a moment, pensively observing Max. Phillip’s voice was thick as he answered, “To be honest, I still haven’t.”
Max’s eyes were concerned and pained, but Phillip assured him, “Knowing you’re alive, safe, and
here helps. It’ll just take me awhile to believe it.”
Max gave his father a small smile thinking
I know the feeling.
“I can’t imagine what you went through, but you can talk to me about anything, Max.”
Biting his lip, Max jerkily nodded. He remained silent for an extended moment, mustering the strength to reveal the news. “I found out the baby I gave up wasn’t my son,” Max confided tautly.
Visibly taken aback, Phillip managed to refrain from speaking.
In a low voice, Max added, “It’s likely my son never made it.”
In a fluid movement, Phillip got up and pulled Max into a hug.
Though no tears actually came, Max shuddered against his father’s chest.
His father murmured, “I’m so sorry, son.”
A short sob tore out of Max’s throat.
Collecting himself, Max asked, “How do I…” move on wasn’t the word he wanted, but he didn’t know how to express the question.
Fortunately, his father understood. “It’ll never truly go, but if you focus on what you do have in life, it gets easier to accept that there was nothing you could do.”
Max’s eyes shone with palpable pain.
“But you can do things for those still living.” Phillip paused. “Starting with yourself,” he added sagely.
Max stayed silent while his emotions clamoured in his chest and mind.
“You’re not alone, Max. You don’t have to handle things by yourself.”
Max averted his eyes thinking about how he’d just be endangering everyone.
His father sighed.
“Take things slow, Max. Don’t decide anything hastily,” Phillip cautioned hoping it would stop Max from running away.
Max slowly nodded, reminding himself that there were still bigger things to prepare for. He could never live with himself if he left his family defenceless from Kivar and other alien enemies. At that thought, flashes from his dream reminded him that he needed to speak with Cal. He began to look towards the French windows seeing if Cal was outside.
“Want to sit outside?”
Turning back to his father, Max amicably agreed.
~~~~~
A few hours later
Sunlight danced upon Max’s face. His eyes fluttered open. Rubbing his eyes, he searched his surroundings in confusion. The pool sprawled out before him, its water glistening. To either side of him were more of the same comfy chaise lounges he was currently stretched out on. Glancing down, he noticed a throw covering him. Realizing he must have fallen asleep, he got up looking for his father. Approaching the house, he heard low chuckles.
Stepping through the open French windows he spied Jeff whipping up something in a bowl, his father once more sitting at the counter.
“Max! Come here for a sec,” Jeff called out to him.
Max shuffled towards to him, uncertainly.
Having noted Max’s hesitancy Jeff added, “it’s nothing bad, I promise.”
With a determined nod, Max walked up to Jeff.
Given one last flourish to his whisk, Jeff spooned out a dollop of what he had whipped up. “Try this.”
The content of the spoon was a light red whipped cream. Giving a small smile, Max took the proffered bite.
The cream was light, but as he licked more off the spoon, he realized what the red was from.
Tabasco sauce.
His breathing became shallow and his eyes started to sting from prickling tears.
He savoured the small spoonful, relishing the tabasco flavour dancing upon his tongue and revitalizing his taste buds. His eyes closed as he imagined being able to eat more of the spiced condiment. It had been so long since he was allowed.
“Happy to see you like it.”
His eyes snapped open.
Jeff stood in front of him gently watching him.
Max’s cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He averted his gaze and focused on where to place the spoon.
Ding!
“Oh perfect timing!” Jeff exclaimed. “Max have a seat. I made the whipped cream for you to enjoy with your pie.”
Max stared at Jeff in shock, his mouth hanging open. He felt a light tug on his arm. He turned to see his father gently pull him towards a chair. He followed in a daze, still amazed at what Mr. Parker had said.
Jeff cut a slice of the pie and placed it in front of him along with the bowl of whipped cream. “Amy made pies earlier, we decided to use the chiller so you could eat it sooner.”
Max looked at Jeff in awe as he breathily asked “You and Ms. Deluca made this… for me?”
Jeff’s heart ached at Max’s question. If it wasn’t clear before from Max’s spindly body, Max’s reaction to the whipped cream and pie made it irrefutable that the FBI had starved him. Jeff was even more amazed that Max had made it out alive. He shared a meaningful glance with Phillip before answering Max. His head tilted as he offered a kind compassionate smile. “Yeah, kid.”
Max returned a hesitant smile. He placed a huge dollop of the cream on the slice.
“Oh! Almost forgot,” Jeff suddenly exclaimed. He placed a Tabasco bottle in front of Max. “In case you want to add more.” He winked at Max, remembering how the boy had single-handedly finished crates of the condiment at the Crashdown.
Max gaped at the bottle astonished he was granted unrestricted access. Isabel had been keeping a bottle near him as he drank her instant shakes, but he never dared to take any. And now Jeff Parker was urging him to take more. He eyed the glass bottle before darting a glance back up at Jeff.
Did he really mean it?
Jeff nodded and gestured for him to go ahead. Though his hand shook as he picked up the bottle, he slipped into autopilot to begin splashing the liquid spice on his pie.
The vinegar scent of Tabasco tickled Max’s nose. He could feel his mouth water with anticipation of the treat before him. But as he picked up a spoon, he had a moment of doubt.
Did he dare?
“Go ahead,” his father coaxed.
Max dug the spoon into the pie. He heard the crackle of the crust as he broke through. His lips twitched upward at the sight of oozing blackberries on his plate. Collecting the berries and ensuring to include a good portion of the cream he lifted it to his mouth.
His eyes closed again as he enjoyed one of the most decadent bites he ever ate. The experience was sadly over too soon, and so he took another spoon.
He had nearly wolfed down the entire slice, before he heard his father chide, “Pace yourself, son. It’s all for you.”
Initially, Max balked at his lack of control, but then he registered his father’s final words. Facing his father, Max bashfully smiled.
Jeff cut Max another slice of the pie. His mouth full, Max beamed in appreciation.
Mere minutes later half the pie was eaten, and the Tabasco bottle was nearly emptied.
Isabel entered the room. Pausing for a moment, she took in the scene before her. Seeing her brother eating with unabashed enjoyment filled her with joy and relief.
He was going to be okay. As Isabel mentally repeated the affirmation, a dazzling smile stole upon her face.
“Morning everyone! Amy mentioned there were pies...”
Having just cut himself another slice, Max asked, “Would you like a slice?”
“I’ve been assured there’s enough for pretty much everyone to have a pie to themselves. But I will have some of this whipped cream…” Isabel dabbed a finger at the bowl by Max. Her eyes instantly lit up.
Turning to Jeff, “Mr. Parker, this is amazing!”
“Please call me Jeff. And I’m so glad you both like it.”
Smiling indulgently, Isabel took another swipe at the cream and remarked, “Absolutely alien approved.” She beamed at Max as he heartily dug into his pie.
At that point, the baker herself stepped into the kitchen. At the sight of Max enjoying the blackberry pie, she shared a grin with Jeff and Phillip.
Quickly swallowing the bite he had taken, Max softly thanked Amy for the pie as well.
“My pleasure, Max. Using this kitchen is a dream! I was able to bake all the pies I wanted in a third of the time it would take me back in Roswell.”
Having turned to Jeff and Phillip, Amy did not notice Max’s reaction to her next comment: “If I had continued access to these ovens and chillers, I wouldn’t mind living here at all.”
Despite Amy’s sunny tone, Max could only focus on the implied sacrifice in her statement. Because of him, she would have to leave her home and move here… all of them would. Max could only imagine the difficulty the Parkers and his parents would face with such a permanent move. Surreptitiously glancing at his father, he wondered about his father’s law firm. If they were all in hiding, he wouldn’t be able to stay in contact with his partners and clients.
“Ready for some coconut pie, Isabel? I remember you liked that one.” Amy joyfully offered as she reached into the fridge to bring out one of her coconut pies. The other was for a certain former Sheriff.
Isabel dutifully took the pie and joined Max at the table. As she sliced the sweet indulgence, she gestured at Max to offer him a slice of hers.
Max briefly met Isabel’s gaze as he refused the offer. Thinking about what would become of everyone’s lives had returned the tense knot to his stomach.
Isabel’s eyes narrowed at her brother’s bent head. But ultimately, she decided to let him be presuming exhaustion had started to take him over. She eagerly began to eat, her eyes closing as she revelled at the refreshing taste. Releasing a contented sigh, she thought, it had been far too long since she had such an indulgent meal. “This is incredible!”
Her exaggerated enjoyment caused Max to lightly laugh.
Isabel sharply turned her head. Max feigned a cough to hide the fact he had laughed at her. But instead of her patented icy glare, her eyes softened. She playfully admonished him with a soft push at his shoulder showing there was no heat behind it. The moment seemed so natural… almost
normal. For a moment Max felt he was back home in Roswell when his biggest worry was planning his visits to the Crashdown during Liz’s shift.
Quickly portioning out a bit, Isabel offered Max a spoon to try the coconut pie. Smelling the tropical sweetness his stomach once more growled with need and so he acquiesced. His eyes automatically closed as he savoured the sweet confection.
“mmm thanks. That was good,” he affirmed Isabel’s assessment. Her eyes danced with amusement and smugness at his response.
Phillip smiled, pleased at seeing his children safe, happy, and eating. With Jeff making more of the Tabasco-infused whipped cream, Phillip knew the kids were in good hands. Kissing the top of both of his children’s heads he murmured, “Be back in a bit.”
Max pensively watched his father head upstairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced such affection. Most of his life he had kept his parents at arm’s length afraid of what would happen if they knew the truth. And once they knew the truth it seemed his worst fears were realized. He was a
marked man who would only bring danger to their idyllic life. His place wasn’t with them. No… the Special Unit had kept him exactly where he deserved to be.
He listlessly played with his spoon.
Jeff put another bowl of the Tabasco-infused whipped cream. “There you go,” he cheerily said.
Blinking, Max refocused on the present. “Thank you,” he timidly replied.
Jeff smiled before joining Amy at the counter to talk shop, “You know, I think I may market this. I hear sweet and spicy combos are becoming a trend. Maybe even open a new restaurant.”
Max tuned them out as he licked a spoonful of the spicy whipped cream. He realized everyone’s parents already had contingency plans. Replaying his father’s earlier words in his head,
You’re not alone, Max. You don’t have to handle things by yourself.
Looking at his sister he received a heartwarming smile. He knew he could always depend on her and Michael when facing their formidable foes. And Liz… her control of her powers was amazing. Cal had mentioned he would help them all train to prepare.
But if he drew the army to just himself, would they all be spared such a life?
Kivar seeks to destroy all that you love before he finishes you. The first time he had them betray me. This time… it will be their lives.
Max bowed his head resigned.
“Hey, you okay?” Isabel placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah…” he trailed off unsure what to say.
Gesturing to his hand, Isabel asked permission to connect. Tiredly, Max nodded.
In moments, she knew all the sorrow and concerns weighing on his mind.
She blinked back tears and sniffed not wanting to draw Jeff and Amy’s attention.
In a quiet voice she assured Max, “We’re not going anywhere, Max.”
Gratitude and guilt swam in his eyes as he held her gaze.
Grasping his hand Isabel mentally sent the thought,
You’ll see Max. Give them the choice.
Max nodded solemnly. Before he could utter anything, everyone clamoured into the kitchen with choruses of “Mornings” and “I’m starving!”
Swiping his arm against his eyes, Max plastered a smile on his face. Upon seeing Liz, however, that smile became genuine,
A life without you is not a life I want, her heartfelt words echoed in his mind.
As she greeted him with a kiss, he had to agree.