Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 40
The gang sat around the back room of the Crashdown trying to sort out the events of the day before. Liz sat on one of the lower steps that led upstairs to her apartment. Max sat right behind her, one step up, letting her lean back between his legs, surrounding her protectively.
Michael leaned his shoulder against a wall, looking relaxed but inside he was tense and ready to react if the need should arise.
Alex sat on the old couch with his arm in a sling, eating up the attention he was getting from Maria on his right and Isabel on his left. He might have broken his arm months ago if he knew this was what it took to get Isabel’s attention.
Kyle wore a hole in the floor, pacing back and forth in agitation. He wasn’t having a good morning. In fact, the last few weeks had been pretty shitty for him.
Ava watched them all from across the room.
“Why? Why me?” Kyle demanded. He threw the metal page from the Destiny Book down on the floor in the middle of the room. They all stared at it, the ‘Wanted Poster’ that showed the clear images of Liz Parker . . . and Kyle Valenti.
“What do you and Liz have in common?” Michael asked, trying to come up with a reasonable answer as to why both their images were on the page of an alien book.
“I don’t know,” Kyle snarked. “We’re human!”
Liz felt Max tense up behind her. She ventured a glance over her shoulder and saw his jaw clenching tightly. It didn’t take much to imagine why. Something weird was happening and he felt responsible. Kyle’s attitude wasn’t helping.
“You used to date,” Maria offered.
“It can’t be that,” Liz shot that idea down. “That was over a long time ago. It’s got to be something new. His picture wasn’t there before.”
“That thing’s from an alien book,” Kyle pointed at the metal page on the floor. “You guys are alien,” his gaze swept over the aliens in the room. “One and one makes four,” he said pointedly.
“Kyle,” Liz sighed in exasperation. She knew he was upset, and he had every right to be, but his attitude was just making everything worse. “Maria and Alex know about all this, and they’re not on that page. It’s something else.”
“Kyle,” Max sat stiffly on the stairs, disliking the thoughts that were suddenly filling his mind. He swallowed hard and asked, “What did you mean Friday night when you said I ruined you?”
“What?” Kyle spun around and faced him. “What does that –”
“You came here from Ben Baker’s party and you said I ruined you. You were drunk, but . . . you said you only had one sip.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about –” and then the insinuation became clear. He turned around, shaking his head, muttering, “Shit.”
Liz turned around to face Max. “You can’t think –”
“What is the one unique thing you and Kyle have in common with me?” Max cut off her protest.
“Max –”
“I healed you,” Max said, not letting it go. “I changed you when I healed you.” He grabbed her hands and held them out so everyone could see. “Last night your hands were glowing, Liz. And yesterday, somehow you predicted Alex’s accident.”
“We don’t know that,” Liz denied it. It couldn’t be true if she didn’t believe it.
“Liz, I was there!” his voice rose. “It was dark out. There was broken glass on the highway. Alex’s blood was everywhere. Everything you described in your vision was an accident that hadn’t happened yet.”
Liz stared at him incredulously. “Are you saying you think I saw the future?”
“I don’t know,” Max struggled to make sense of it. “You didn’t want Alex to go yesterday, like you knew something was gonna happen. Your hands were glowing last night, in a decidedly inhuman way. Kyle had one sip and he was drunk on his ass. What’s that remind you of?”
“Are you sa – saying . . .” Kyle stuttered. “You made me an alien?”
“No!” Max shot back and then sagged in uncertainty. “Maybe. I don’t know. The healing . . . maybe . . . I’m sorry . . .”
“Max, don’t be sorry!” Liz scolded him. “If it wasn’t for you we’d be dead.” She looked at Kyle pointedly and said, “Both of us.”
Kyle bit back a fiery retort, knowing she was right. Max Evans might have screwed up his life big time, but if it wasn’t for the alien, he’d be dead. He took a calming breath and said, “You’re right.”
Liz felt the stiffness in Max’s muscles relax a bit. The tension in the room eased slightly.
“What about me?” Alex asked. When everyone looked at him he added, “Max healed me too.”
“Maybe it takes time,” Max tried to sort it out. “I healed Liz last fall, but her hands didn’t start glowing until last night. Kyle got shot a month ago. Do you feel any . . . different?” he asked, looking directly at Alex.
Alex wasn’t sure how to answer that. Considering the fact that Isabel was sitting next to him, her leg touching his leg, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, her attention focused on him, all those things made him feel very different, but not in the way Max was asking.
“I don’t think so,” Alex answered. If it was true, if Max had changed him, what would those changes be? Would he be able to levitate objects? Change molecular structure? Display superhuman strength? That would be so . . . cool!
Isabel picked the metal page up off the floor and looked at it closely. “We’ll have to watch this, to see if it changes again.” She looked at Alex and then at all the others in the room before settling on Max. “If it does, then we’ll know that you’re right.”
“What about the book?” Michael spoke up.
“We need to find it,” Max said the obvious. “Maybe it got ejected from the car in the accident. Michael, you and I should go look for it. We’ll check the accident scene, and if it’s not there, we’ll search the car again. Maybe we just overlooked it in the dark last night.”
“Okay,” Michael agreed.
With a course of action decided Max rose to his feet, ready to begin. He focused on his sister and said, “Isabel, you stay with Liz.”
“Max –” Liz started to protest.
“Just do this for me Liz,” Max pleaded. “I don’t want you alone right now. Please?”
“Okay,” she surrendered, letting him have his way for now.
He smiled at her, grateful that she was indulging him. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. With his arm around her shoulders he turned to ‘Tess’ and said, “Stay with Kyle until we get back.”
“My own private bodyguard?” Kyle looked at her with a resigned smile.
Ava felt the weight of seven pairs of eyes staring at her. She’d been quiet through the entire meeting, listening to everything they said. They were a diverse group of people, but the thing that struck her the most was how they worked together. With Zan, it was always following his orders. He controlled everything. No one was allowed to do anything without his permission. Here, Max was clearly the leader of the group, but everyone had a voice, and no one was afraid of him.
Ava smiled at Kyle and then turned to Max, vowing, “I’ll guard him with my life.”
* * * * *
Zan looked at his naked reflection in the bathroom mirror seeing his familiar visage staring back at him. His long hair fell unevenly around his rugged face. His full lips, slightly parted, showed no a hint of a smile. His cheeks and chiseled jaw carried nearly a weeks worth of stubbled growth. The color of his eyes held no warmth.
His attention dropped from the mirror to the four square symbol on his muscular arm. He waved his hand over it and the tattoo disappeared. He systematically removed each marking, from his right shoulder, his left hip, his right forearm, the small of his back. His gaze moved to his left pec, to the swirling symbol of his home world, and decided that one could stay. For now.
His attention returned to his face and he stepped closer to the mirror, concentrating on his image.
Time to make a change.
His hand swiped over his cheeks and chin removing the hair that had grown since his last ‘shave’. Whiskers turned to dust and fell away. A second wave of his hand changed the texture of his skin giving him a more youthful, boyish appearance. Weathered skin turned soft. Smooth. Crease lines disappeared.
Satisfied with the changes so far, he picked up the scissors from the edge of the bathroom counter and made the first cut, in the old fashioned human way. A clump of dark hair fell to the floor. It wasn’t long before the floor was covered with it, and the image of a new man emerged.
The face in the mirror now appeared softer, younger, with short hair and smooth cheeks. His full lips curved in a smile. Only the eyes remained the same. Cold as a winter night.
Zan slipped on a pair of jeans, and then a shirt, looking at himself closely while he buttoned up the front. He tested out different colors, blue and burgundy and black, before deciding to stick with white. He left the tails of the shirt hanging loose. That’s the way Max dressed.
Zan raked a hand through his short hair and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.
Time to play.
* * * * *
Max crouched down, inspecting the tire marks on the pavement, the blackened lines that told a story about what happened on this stretch of road last night. Slivers of glass still sparkled on the roadway, some still clinging to bits and pieces of a tattered beer label. Max slowly rose to his feet with a frown darkening his face, his stance clearly showing his confusion.
“What?” Michael asked, trying to extricate himself from the brambles near the spot of last nights point of impact.
“This is where Alex went off the road,” Max pointed at the skid marks and then looked over into the left hand lane.
“Yeah?” Michael made his way through the scrub grass to join him, rubbing a scratch on his upper arm.
“Alex said a semi came around this curve and crossed over into his lane. He swerved to avoid it. You can see it,” Max pointed at the road.
“So?” Michael prodded.
Max looked Michael straight in the eye and asked, “So why is there only one set of tire marks? Alex said he heard the air brakes before the semi swerved back into its own lane and kept going. Shouldn’t there be a second set of tire marks here too?”
“What are you suggesting?” Michael felt a surge of apprehension.
“I don’t know,” Max swept his gaze over the landscape. Something didn’t feel right. “Let’s find the goddamn book and get back to town.”
* * * * *
Isabel toyed with the sandwich on the plate in front of her wondering when Max and Michael were going to get back. They’d been gone for awhile now and she was getting bored. Liz was keeping busy waiting on customers, but Isabel had nothing to do except sit here. Next time Michael could stay back playing protector and she’d go where the action was.
The front bells chimed announcing a new Crashdown customer and one quick look had Isabel relaxing, leaning back in the seat. Finally! Max came striding across the restaurant and slid into the seat across from her.
“Hey Isabel,” he greeted her. “How’s it goin’?”
“Did you find it?” she asked. “Is everything safe now?”
“Everything’s great,” he replied, with his grin widening.
“Where is it?” Isabel gave him the once over. He obviously wasn’t carrying it. His jeans and short sleeve shirt didn’t leave any hiding room to conceal an alien book.
“Michael’s got it,” he answered. “Over at his place. Everything’s safe.”
“Thank God,” Isabel relaxed.
“You gonna eat that?” he stared at the sandwich on her plate.
“No. Go ahead,” Isabel pushed the plate toward her brother.
“Thanks,” he grabbed the sandwich and shoved it in his mouth. “Yo ca go na,” he said around the food.
“What?” Isabel smirked at him. Max didn’t usually talk with a mouth full of food.
He swallowed and gave her his most charming grin. “I said, you can go if you want. I’ll stay here with Liz. Where is she anyway?”
“She’s in the back. She’ll be right out.” Isabel watched her brother shovel the last of the food into his mouth and she cocked her head, asking, “Is everything okay?”
Liz pushed through the swinging door into the café and his gaze shifted, locking onto the dark haired girl. Her face lit up when she saw him.
“Couldn’t be better,” he answered, ignoring Isabel now.
Liz stopped at the soda dispenser and filled a cup, then walked over to his booth and set it in front of him. “Did you just get back?”
“Just now,” he smiled up at her.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Isabel rose to her feet. She looked down at Max and asked, “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight? Mom’s going to want to know.”
“Nah,” he looked Liz up and down. “I’m gonna be busy.”
Isabel rolled her eyes at her brother’s blatant behavior and then said goodbye to Liz. She left the restaurant and Liz stepped closer to the table. “You look like you’re in a good mood. I take it that means you found the book?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You could say that. It’s all safe and sound.”
“In that case,” she looked down at his empty plate. “Can I tempt you with anything else? Martian Mudd pie? Stargate cheesecake? Moonbeam ice cream?”
“Are you on the menu?” he took his hand off the table and ran it up the back of her leg, inching above the hem of her uniform. He pulled her down onto his lap, smiling at the surprised look on her face. “Let’s go somewhere,” he nuzzled her ear. “Somewhere private . . .”
Liz looked up at his handsome face with her smile slowly disappearing. A sense of déjà vu crowded in on her, making it hard for her to breathe. Had they had this conversation before?
“C’mon,” he rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. His hand slipped into hers and he headed toward the back room.
“Max –” she tugged on his hand trying to get him to slow down. Her shift wasn’t over yet.
As he pushed through the swinging door Liz felt his hand tightening around hers, turning rougher, stronger, dominating. She gasped when he swung her around and pressed her against the wall. A sense of foreboding filled her, knowing this had happened before, in a dream . . . or a vision.
“Here’s good enough,” his lips swept down to kiss her.
Liz tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. His tongue demanded entrance into her mouth, his arm tightened painfully around her hips, his body pressed her hard against the wall. A flash filled her mind, just like in her vision, full of blackness and discordant sounds, sending fear slashing down her spine.
She pushed him away, struggling to breathe, staring at his familiar face, yet seeing someone different. His features were just the same, his angular nose, his chiseled jaw, the birthmark above his upper lip, but there was something about his eyes. Something not quite . . . human.
“Max . . .?”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said in a voice that sounded soft and melodic, just like Max.
His sensual smile gave her goosebumps, but they weren’t the good kind. A chill ran down her spine. Had she seen him before? A memory rose to the surface, of long hair and leather, tattoos and shades, hiding his inhuman eyes from the world.
“Who are you?” Liz let the words slip out.
The smile disappeared from his face. His cold eyes penetrated her, trying to look into her soul.
“Who are you?” his voice hardened. “Why are you so important? Why are you in my dreams?”
“I’m not,” Liz whispered. “I’m no one.”
“You haunt me. You make me see things. Feel things.” His voice turned harsher and he yanked her hard against his chest. “Things I don’t wanna feel!”
“Let me go,” her voice came out as a plaintive cry. “Please let me go.”
Zan stepped back but he didn’t relax his grip on her arm. “You’re coming with me.” He turned toward the door that led into the back alley, dragging Liz with him.
“No. NO!” her voice rose sharply in pitch. She fought against his arm, trying to break free. “LET GO OF ME!”
He swung around to face her with his mouth just inches from hers. He stared into her eyes, issuing a chilling edict. “You come with me, or everyone in that restaurant dies. Your choice.”
“No. You can’t. You wouldn’t –”
But he would, and she knew it. She could see it in his eyes. How could anyone with a face like Max’s have such inhuman eyes?
“Shall I start with the cook?” his cold gaze held her transfixed, making her shiver. “I don’t even have to touch him. I can do it from here.”
His eyes never left hers as he lifted his hand and pointed his palm toward the kitchen doorway. Inside the far room Liz heard Jose’s startled cry of pain.
“NO! DON’T! I’ll come with you!” She swallowed hard, knowing she had no other choice.
“Good,” he lowered his arm. “Wise decision.”
His hand clamped around her upper arm, dragging her out of the restaurant to the back alley and his waiting car. He pushed her into the stolen Camero and then climbed in behind the wheel, knowing exactly where he was going to take her.
To the one place Max Evans would never follow.
TBC . . .
Aftermath (ML / Adult) (Complete)
Moderators: Itzstacie, Forum Moderators
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 41
Liz sat as close to the door as she could, not wanting to be any where near the man driving the car. The man with Max’s face. He drove through the New Mexico countryside toward some unknown destination, taking her to a place she feared would be hell on earth. She wasn’t wrong.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying his face and his movements, trying to see who or what was hiding under his skin. She finally got up her courage and broke the silence that hung in the car.
Liz looked at his profile and asked, “Are you a shapeshifter?”
Zan turned his head to look at her, surprised by her question, but he didn’t let it show. He returned his gaze to the front.
“No.”
She thought about that for a minute and then asked, “Are you mindwarping me? Is that why you look like Max?”
He shot her another look, narrowing his eyes. He reached into the console between the seats and removed a pack of cigarettes. He went about the task of lighting one, then leaned back with his left elbow out the car window, blowing out the satisfying smoke, concentrating on the road ahead of him. Her presence beside him was unsettling.
He felt her eyes on him, watching him, trying to see inside him. He looked at her sideways, noticing how she looked away. He could feel her fear, which gave him power over her, and power was something Zan craved. It was what he was, who he was, what he would always be. He was the Man in Charge. No human girl could bring him to his knees.
Liz felt his scrutiny but she wouldn’t let it daunt her. When he didn’t answer her question, she asked another. “What do you really look like?”
He stared straight down the road and answered, “This is what I really look like.”
She took that in, mulling it over in her mind. If he was telling her the truth, and he wasn’t a shapeshifter and she wasn’t being mindwarped, then what other possibilities could explain him looking just like Max? The image of a woman in white flashed through her head, with the words she’d spoken taking on new meaning.
“Your essence was duplicated and cloned . . .”
Duplicated and cloned . . .
Duplicated . . .
Things started to click in her mind, possibilities and certainties flowing into one. She looked straight at him, seeing the tiny mole above his upper lip, putting things together. “You were the biker in the Crashdown. You were watching me.”
He turned to her, looking her up and down in a predatory fashion, lingering on her curves. When his eyes met hers again, his lips turned upwards, giving her a wicked smile. “Been watchin’ ya for awhile.”
Liz darted a look at the cigarette between his fingers feeling the color draining from her face. He’d been on her balcony. It was his cigarette butt she found. The flash of Alex’s accident was because he was the one who caused it. The chill running down her back turned to ice. She forced herself to keep asking questions, even though she wanted more than anything to huddle in a corner and pretend none of this was happening. Knowledge was power. If she could conquer her fear and learn as much as she could, it just might save her life.
“Are you a hybrid then?”
Zan looked her over again. She sure was one for the questions. He could think of a way or two to shut her up, though. His lips began to curve into a leer, but then it disappeared just as fast when the memory of a dream surfaced in his mind.
“What are you doing here, Max?”
The way her eyes raked over his face, his body, made his blood boil. He could hardly breathe from wanting her so. He tried to hide it.
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
“Besides that.”
Her sultry retort made his stomach rumble.
She walked in front of him, so close, close enough he could smell her hair, her scent, the essence that surrounded her. He lost all control, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, giving in to overwhelming desires. His hand fisted around the cloth of her uniform, holding her close so she couldn’t get away. His mouth ravaged hers; hers ravaged his back, while steam billowed around them. He picked her up, knocking the strawberries to the floor, setting her on the counter so he could slide between her thighs. His mouth tore away from hers and attacked her throat, feeling her moans vibrating against his lips, the sensual sound humming in his ears –
Zan jolted out of the memory flash feeling unsettled and confused. The dream wasn’t his. The emotions were all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He sat up straight and tossed his half smoked cigarette out the window. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, turning nearly white with tension.
Liz watched him as they drove in silence down the deserted highway. His failure to answer her last question led her to believe she’d hit on the truth. He was a hybrid, just like Max. A mirror image, but only in looks. The Max sitting in the car with her was an alien with no soul.
She gathered her courage and asked another question. “Do you have a name?”
He didn’t acknowledge her for a minute, but when he did, it was to say a simple, “Yes.”
“You have a name,” Liz said, as a statement this time, not a question.
“Yes,” he flashed a cold smile and returned his attention to the road.
After a minute she asked him another question. She could be just as persistent as he could be evasive. “What is your name?”
After a long pause, he looked at her once more and said, “Zan. My designation is Zan.”
“Your designation?” Liz arched an eyebrow. “What are you? Fresh out of Star Trek?”
Zan cocked his head and frowned. “Star Trek?”
“The TV show? For like the last billion years?”
“We don’t watch TV,” Zan dismissed it. TV was fodder for human cattle.
“We?” Liz latched onto his slip. There were more like him?
Zan glanced over at her, looking her up and down. She was grilling him for information, but he wasn’t going to bite. “I said ‘We’.”
“How many is ‘we’?”
“How many do you think?” he smirked. She didn’t have a clue how many members were in his u –
“Four. There’s four of you, aren’t there?” Liz said with certainty.
Zan looked her over again, not enjoying the game anymore. His face hardened, his mouth set in a grim line, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was smart. Maybe too smart.
Conversation time was over.
* * * * *
Max opened the doors of the Crashdown and walked inside. His gaze swept over the patrons, looking for Liz, but she wasn’t in sight. Neither was Isabel. Michael bumped into him from behind when Max stopped right in front of him.
“Road hog,” Michael grumbled and moved around him.
“She’s not here,” Max felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t feel Liz anywhere.
“Maybe they’re upstairs.”
“But she’s supposed to be working.” Max moved into the restaurant just as Maria pushed through the swinging door on the other side of the room. He joined her in the middle and asked, “Where’s Liz?”
“I thought she was with you,” Maria answered.
“Me? I just got back.”
“Agnes said she went with you. She was so pissed she called me in, saying if I didn’t cover Liz’s shift then she was gonna walk out too, and no one would be here. And then there was that whole thing with Jose.”
“What thing with Jose?” Michael towered over her.
“I don’t know. They took him away in an ambulance before I got here.”
“Where’s Isabel?” Max demanded.
“She left when you came back,” Maria gaped at him. Why was he biting her head off?
“I just now came back!”
“No, when you came back earlier,” Maria insisted.
“I didn’t come back earlier!” Max felt panic taking hold. The bells behind him chimed and he whirled around to see Isabel entering the Crashdown. He pounced on her, demanding, “Where’s Liz?”
“With you,” she shot back. Was that any kind of greeting?
“I haven’t seen her since I left her with you this morning!”
“What’s going on Max?” Maria asked the question they were all wondering.
“I don’t know,” came his tortured reply.
* * * * *
“Why me?”
Zan shifted on the car seat, making the leather groan beneath him. Warm summer air whipped through the car from his open window, ruffling his short hair and sending her long tresses flying around her face. She smoothed her hair back with her hand.
Her question was one he wondered himself. Why her? Why Liz Parker? His targets were usually world leaders or high ranking military officers, easy to understand their importance on a global scale. So why had this girl been targeted for elimination?
“You must have the wrong person,” Liz tried to reason with him. “I’m just a girl in high school. I can’t be a threat to your race.”
“I don’t have a race,” Zan countered, with his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. “I’m a soldier. I follow orders.”
“Well your orders have to be wrong!”
Zan turned his cold eyes on her. “That’s not my decision to make.”
A road sign came into view sending a shiver of dread to her very soul. The car slowed moments later, confirming her worst suspicions. Zan turned off the highway taking a secondary road to their final destination. Eagle Rock Military Installation loomed in the distance, abandoned, empty, dead.
As dead as she would be when Zan was done with her.
* * * * *
“So it’s down to me and Mario Sanchez. Whoever scores highest on the last target is gonna be state champion.” Kyle cocked his head slightly and asked, “Is this boring?”
“No,” Ava reassured him. “Not at all!” She liked listening to Kyle talk about himself. It showed her a kind of life she’d never been close to before. A human kind of life.
“So I take aim,” Kyle continued his story and reached for the door handle of the Crashdown. He held it open to let her walk in first. “I squeeze off the first round –”
Before Ava could even get a foot inside the door Max was suddenly in her face, grabbing her by the arm, staring at her with the kind of fearful intensity she’d only seen in one other person. At that moment, looking into his angry eyes, she could have sworn she was looking at Zan.
“Where is she!” Max demanded, squeezing her arm hard, almost dragging her off her feet.
“Max, not here,” Michael growled, pulling on his arm to make him let go. He looked around the café, seeing all the faces staring at them.
“What the fuck are ya doing Evans?” Kyle knocked his hand away.
“She had something to do with this,” Max pointed a menacing finger toward her. “Just like before!” His eyes focused on her again and he shouted in her face, “I trusted you! I trusted you!”
“Let’s go in the back,” Michael kept his voice low and controlled. He grabbed Max to keep him from lunging at Tess again and pushed him across the room.
“What the hell was that all about?” Kyle stared after them. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Max lose it that badly before, which could only mean one thing. Something had happened to Liz.
* * * * *
They entered a long corridor with strategically placed doors and parallel corridors every fifty feet or so. The walls looked drab. Colorless. Unattractive and unwelcoming. The military didn’t place a high value on interior decorating.
Zan kept a hand on her arm as he led Liz deeper into the abandoned facility, moving down the seemingly endless corridor, until they turned a corner and she saw it. The ID checkpoint Max had told her about. Beyond this point was a place she’d never been, but it was vividly etched into her brain. What she’d seen in the flashes from Max had been all too horrifyingly real. Zan was taking her to the White Room.
“No,” Liz involuntarily breathed out the word and dug her heels into the ground. “No! I won’t go in there!”
“That’s not your decision –” Zan started to say but Liz’s panic was taking over. He yanked her toward him, trying to overpower her, but at such close range she had no trouble hitting her target. She kneed him in the groin. Hard. Zan went down like a rock.
Liz took off running, listening to him curse and groan behind her. He clambered back to his feet with his running footsteps joining hers, echoing through the halls as he chased after her. Her only chance for survival was to find a corridor that led to the outside, or a room she could hide in until . . .
Until what? She ran blindly with no answer to that question. Until Max came for her? But Max didn’t know she was here. No one did. She was on her own, with no hope of rescue.
She screamed when his fingers brushed against the skin of her arm and she bolted down an intersecting corridor. She glanced behind her long enough to see him lose his balance and fall the other way. His growl of frustration echoing through the halls terrified her. She turned forward again, seeing an EXIT sign at the very end of the hall hanging above the doorway, taunting her with the all too slim possibility of safety.
Zan scrambled to his feet and chased after his lively adversary. He hadn’t expected her to run, but he wasn’t displeased that she did. The girl was turning into a worthy opponent; intelligent, quick, spunky. It would be a shame to have to kill her, but he could have a little fun first. He chased her down the hallway, his long legs cutting the distance between them quickly. When he was close enough he tackled her to the floor.
Liz felt the air knocked out of her lungs and she went down hard. She fought for all she was worth, scratching at his face and trying to poke at his eyes but he was too strong. He straddled her hips and pinned her arms above her head.
“Well that was fun,” Zan breathed hotly into her face.
“Let me go!” Liz squirmed under him. “Let me go!”
“As soon as I’m through with you,” Zan leered at her. He backhanded her across the face to stun her, and then slipped his fingers between the front snaps of her dress and tore the uniform open.
Liz closed her eyes praying that this was only a dream, that it wasn’t really happening, but knowing that it was all too terrifyingly real. As she felt her uniform tear apart, she tried to close her mind off from what was going to happen next. Zan might have Max’s face, and Max’s body, but he could never be Max. The monster that was about to rape her wasn’t anything like Max.
Zan froze, staring down at the girl beneath him. Her bra turned from plain white to polka dot right in front of his eyes. The pristine flesh below her ribs turned red as blood welled up from a bullet wound and pooled on her stomach. His hand hovered just above her while words from a dream echoed through his head.
“Liz. LIZ! You have to look at me. You have to look at me . . .”
Zan swallowed hard, panting heavily. The emotions from his dream flooded through him, the panic, the fear, the resolve to do whatever it took to save her. His dream hand covered the wound, healing the injury inside her, leaving a part of himself behind when he pulled his hand away.
“You’re all right now. You’re all right.” He backed away from her, bumping into a cart behind him. “You broke the bottle when you fell. Spilled ketchup on yourself. Don’t say anything. Please . . .”
Zan reeled backwards, away from Liz. She scrambled to sit up, clutching the edges of her uniform together, trying to cover herself. Zan stared at her stomach, her uniform, seeing no trace of phantom blood now. Only in his dream had there been blood, and the emotions of a boy bound to save her. His eyes lifted to her face to ask the question that was haunting him.
“What are you doing to me?”
TBC . . .
Author note: The holidays are going to severly cut into my writing time for the next few weeks, which may result in less frequent postings. I'll do my best, but I just wanted to give you a warning.
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 41
Liz sat as close to the door as she could, not wanting to be any where near the man driving the car. The man with Max’s face. He drove through the New Mexico countryside toward some unknown destination, taking her to a place she feared would be hell on earth. She wasn’t wrong.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying his face and his movements, trying to see who or what was hiding under his skin. She finally got up her courage and broke the silence that hung in the car.
Liz looked at his profile and asked, “Are you a shapeshifter?”
Zan turned his head to look at her, surprised by her question, but he didn’t let it show. He returned his gaze to the front.
“No.”
She thought about that for a minute and then asked, “Are you mindwarping me? Is that why you look like Max?”
He shot her another look, narrowing his eyes. He reached into the console between the seats and removed a pack of cigarettes. He went about the task of lighting one, then leaned back with his left elbow out the car window, blowing out the satisfying smoke, concentrating on the road ahead of him. Her presence beside him was unsettling.
He felt her eyes on him, watching him, trying to see inside him. He looked at her sideways, noticing how she looked away. He could feel her fear, which gave him power over her, and power was something Zan craved. It was what he was, who he was, what he would always be. He was the Man in Charge. No human girl could bring him to his knees.
Liz felt his scrutiny but she wouldn’t let it daunt her. When he didn’t answer her question, she asked another. “What do you really look like?”
He stared straight down the road and answered, “This is what I really look like.”
She took that in, mulling it over in her mind. If he was telling her the truth, and he wasn’t a shapeshifter and she wasn’t being mindwarped, then what other possibilities could explain him looking just like Max? The image of a woman in white flashed through her head, with the words she’d spoken taking on new meaning.
“Your essence was duplicated and cloned . . .”
Duplicated and cloned . . .
Duplicated . . .
Things started to click in her mind, possibilities and certainties flowing into one. She looked straight at him, seeing the tiny mole above his upper lip, putting things together. “You were the biker in the Crashdown. You were watching me.”
He turned to her, looking her up and down in a predatory fashion, lingering on her curves. When his eyes met hers again, his lips turned upwards, giving her a wicked smile. “Been watchin’ ya for awhile.”
Liz darted a look at the cigarette between his fingers feeling the color draining from her face. He’d been on her balcony. It was his cigarette butt she found. The flash of Alex’s accident was because he was the one who caused it. The chill running down her back turned to ice. She forced herself to keep asking questions, even though she wanted more than anything to huddle in a corner and pretend none of this was happening. Knowledge was power. If she could conquer her fear and learn as much as she could, it just might save her life.
“Are you a hybrid then?”
Zan looked her over again. She sure was one for the questions. He could think of a way or two to shut her up, though. His lips began to curve into a leer, but then it disappeared just as fast when the memory of a dream surfaced in his mind.
“What are you doing here, Max?”
The way her eyes raked over his face, his body, made his blood boil. He could hardly breathe from wanting her so. He tried to hide it.
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
“Besides that.”
Her sultry retort made his stomach rumble.
She walked in front of him, so close, close enough he could smell her hair, her scent, the essence that surrounded her. He lost all control, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, giving in to overwhelming desires. His hand fisted around the cloth of her uniform, holding her close so she couldn’t get away. His mouth ravaged hers; hers ravaged his back, while steam billowed around them. He picked her up, knocking the strawberries to the floor, setting her on the counter so he could slide between her thighs. His mouth tore away from hers and attacked her throat, feeling her moans vibrating against his lips, the sensual sound humming in his ears –
Zan jolted out of the memory flash feeling unsettled and confused. The dream wasn’t his. The emotions were all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He sat up straight and tossed his half smoked cigarette out the window. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, turning nearly white with tension.
Liz watched him as they drove in silence down the deserted highway. His failure to answer her last question led her to believe she’d hit on the truth. He was a hybrid, just like Max. A mirror image, but only in looks. The Max sitting in the car with her was an alien with no soul.
She gathered her courage and asked another question. “Do you have a name?”
He didn’t acknowledge her for a minute, but when he did, it was to say a simple, “Yes.”
“You have a name,” Liz said, as a statement this time, not a question.
“Yes,” he flashed a cold smile and returned his attention to the road.
After a minute she asked him another question. She could be just as persistent as he could be evasive. “What is your name?”
After a long pause, he looked at her once more and said, “Zan. My designation is Zan.”
“Your designation?” Liz arched an eyebrow. “What are you? Fresh out of Star Trek?”
Zan cocked his head and frowned. “Star Trek?”
“The TV show? For like the last billion years?”
“We don’t watch TV,” Zan dismissed it. TV was fodder for human cattle.
“We?” Liz latched onto his slip. There were more like him?
Zan glanced over at her, looking her up and down. She was grilling him for information, but he wasn’t going to bite. “I said ‘We’.”
“How many is ‘we’?”
“How many do you think?” he smirked. She didn’t have a clue how many members were in his u –
“Four. There’s four of you, aren’t there?” Liz said with certainty.
Zan looked her over again, not enjoying the game anymore. His face hardened, his mouth set in a grim line, his hands tightened on the steering wheel. She was smart. Maybe too smart.
Conversation time was over.
* * * * *
Max opened the doors of the Crashdown and walked inside. His gaze swept over the patrons, looking for Liz, but she wasn’t in sight. Neither was Isabel. Michael bumped into him from behind when Max stopped right in front of him.
“Road hog,” Michael grumbled and moved around him.
“She’s not here,” Max felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t feel Liz anywhere.
“Maybe they’re upstairs.”
“But she’s supposed to be working.” Max moved into the restaurant just as Maria pushed through the swinging door on the other side of the room. He joined her in the middle and asked, “Where’s Liz?”
“I thought she was with you,” Maria answered.
“Me? I just got back.”
“Agnes said she went with you. She was so pissed she called me in, saying if I didn’t cover Liz’s shift then she was gonna walk out too, and no one would be here. And then there was that whole thing with Jose.”
“What thing with Jose?” Michael towered over her.
“I don’t know. They took him away in an ambulance before I got here.”
“Where’s Isabel?” Max demanded.
“She left when you came back,” Maria gaped at him. Why was he biting her head off?
“I just now came back!”
“No, when you came back earlier,” Maria insisted.
“I didn’t come back earlier!” Max felt panic taking hold. The bells behind him chimed and he whirled around to see Isabel entering the Crashdown. He pounced on her, demanding, “Where’s Liz?”
“With you,” she shot back. Was that any kind of greeting?
“I haven’t seen her since I left her with you this morning!”
“What’s going on Max?” Maria asked the question they were all wondering.
“I don’t know,” came his tortured reply.
* * * * *
“Why me?”
Zan shifted on the car seat, making the leather groan beneath him. Warm summer air whipped through the car from his open window, ruffling his short hair and sending her long tresses flying around her face. She smoothed her hair back with her hand.
Her question was one he wondered himself. Why her? Why Liz Parker? His targets were usually world leaders or high ranking military officers, easy to understand their importance on a global scale. So why had this girl been targeted for elimination?
“You must have the wrong person,” Liz tried to reason with him. “I’m just a girl in high school. I can’t be a threat to your race.”
“I don’t have a race,” Zan countered, with his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. “I’m a soldier. I follow orders.”
“Well your orders have to be wrong!”
Zan turned his cold eyes on her. “That’s not my decision to make.”
A road sign came into view sending a shiver of dread to her very soul. The car slowed moments later, confirming her worst suspicions. Zan turned off the highway taking a secondary road to their final destination. Eagle Rock Military Installation loomed in the distance, abandoned, empty, dead.
As dead as she would be when Zan was done with her.
* * * * *
“So it’s down to me and Mario Sanchez. Whoever scores highest on the last target is gonna be state champion.” Kyle cocked his head slightly and asked, “Is this boring?”
“No,” Ava reassured him. “Not at all!” She liked listening to Kyle talk about himself. It showed her a kind of life she’d never been close to before. A human kind of life.
“So I take aim,” Kyle continued his story and reached for the door handle of the Crashdown. He held it open to let her walk in first. “I squeeze off the first round –”
Before Ava could even get a foot inside the door Max was suddenly in her face, grabbing her by the arm, staring at her with the kind of fearful intensity she’d only seen in one other person. At that moment, looking into his angry eyes, she could have sworn she was looking at Zan.
“Where is she!” Max demanded, squeezing her arm hard, almost dragging her off her feet.
“Max, not here,” Michael growled, pulling on his arm to make him let go. He looked around the café, seeing all the faces staring at them.
“What the fuck are ya doing Evans?” Kyle knocked his hand away.
“She had something to do with this,” Max pointed a menacing finger toward her. “Just like before!” His eyes focused on her again and he shouted in her face, “I trusted you! I trusted you!”
“Let’s go in the back,” Michael kept his voice low and controlled. He grabbed Max to keep him from lunging at Tess again and pushed him across the room.
“What the hell was that all about?” Kyle stared after them. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Max lose it that badly before, which could only mean one thing. Something had happened to Liz.
* * * * *
They entered a long corridor with strategically placed doors and parallel corridors every fifty feet or so. The walls looked drab. Colorless. Unattractive and unwelcoming. The military didn’t place a high value on interior decorating.
Zan kept a hand on her arm as he led Liz deeper into the abandoned facility, moving down the seemingly endless corridor, until they turned a corner and she saw it. The ID checkpoint Max had told her about. Beyond this point was a place she’d never been, but it was vividly etched into her brain. What she’d seen in the flashes from Max had been all too horrifyingly real. Zan was taking her to the White Room.
“No,” Liz involuntarily breathed out the word and dug her heels into the ground. “No! I won’t go in there!”
“That’s not your decision –” Zan started to say but Liz’s panic was taking over. He yanked her toward him, trying to overpower her, but at such close range she had no trouble hitting her target. She kneed him in the groin. Hard. Zan went down like a rock.
Liz took off running, listening to him curse and groan behind her. He clambered back to his feet with his running footsteps joining hers, echoing through the halls as he chased after her. Her only chance for survival was to find a corridor that led to the outside, or a room she could hide in until . . .
Until what? She ran blindly with no answer to that question. Until Max came for her? But Max didn’t know she was here. No one did. She was on her own, with no hope of rescue.
She screamed when his fingers brushed against the skin of her arm and she bolted down an intersecting corridor. She glanced behind her long enough to see him lose his balance and fall the other way. His growl of frustration echoing through the halls terrified her. She turned forward again, seeing an EXIT sign at the very end of the hall hanging above the doorway, taunting her with the all too slim possibility of safety.
Zan scrambled to his feet and chased after his lively adversary. He hadn’t expected her to run, but he wasn’t displeased that she did. The girl was turning into a worthy opponent; intelligent, quick, spunky. It would be a shame to have to kill her, but he could have a little fun first. He chased her down the hallway, his long legs cutting the distance between them quickly. When he was close enough he tackled her to the floor.
Liz felt the air knocked out of her lungs and she went down hard. She fought for all she was worth, scratching at his face and trying to poke at his eyes but he was too strong. He straddled her hips and pinned her arms above her head.
“Well that was fun,” Zan breathed hotly into her face.
“Let me go!” Liz squirmed under him. “Let me go!”
“As soon as I’m through with you,” Zan leered at her. He backhanded her across the face to stun her, and then slipped his fingers between the front snaps of her dress and tore the uniform open.
Liz closed her eyes praying that this was only a dream, that it wasn’t really happening, but knowing that it was all too terrifyingly real. As she felt her uniform tear apart, she tried to close her mind off from what was going to happen next. Zan might have Max’s face, and Max’s body, but he could never be Max. The monster that was about to rape her wasn’t anything like Max.
Zan froze, staring down at the girl beneath him. Her bra turned from plain white to polka dot right in front of his eyes. The pristine flesh below her ribs turned red as blood welled up from a bullet wound and pooled on her stomach. His hand hovered just above her while words from a dream echoed through his head.
“Liz. LIZ! You have to look at me. You have to look at me . . .”
Zan swallowed hard, panting heavily. The emotions from his dream flooded through him, the panic, the fear, the resolve to do whatever it took to save her. His dream hand covered the wound, healing the injury inside her, leaving a part of himself behind when he pulled his hand away.
“You’re all right now. You’re all right.” He backed away from her, bumping into a cart behind him. “You broke the bottle when you fell. Spilled ketchup on yourself. Don’t say anything. Please . . .”
Zan reeled backwards, away from Liz. She scrambled to sit up, clutching the edges of her uniform together, trying to cover herself. Zan stared at her stomach, her uniform, seeing no trace of phantom blood now. Only in his dream had there been blood, and the emotions of a boy bound to save her. His eyes lifted to her face to ask the question that was haunting him.
“What are you doing to me?”
TBC . . .
Author note: The holidays are going to severly cut into my writing time for the next few weeks, which may result in less frequent postings. I'll do my best, but I just wanted to give you a warning.
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Aftermath Part 42
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 42
Ava felt the heat of their stares as soon as she entered the backroom. Kyle moved around her, with his wary eyes lacking the warmth he’d shown her earlier. Maria stood in the middle of the room, still wearing her uniform, glaring at her with open hostility. Isabel sat on the arm of the couch, with a mixture of guilt and fear on her face. Michael looked ready to kill, if need be. Max didn’t look like he would give him the chance. He was all too ready to do it himself.
“How did you do it?” Max demanded, staring right at her. “Did you mindwarp all of us into just thinking you disintegrated Nasedo in Kyle’s room? Was it all just an elaborate plan to throw us off?”
“I don’t know –”
“WHERE’S LIZ?!” Max shouted at her.
“I . . .” Ava swallowed hard. “I don’t . . . I thought Liz was supposed to stay with Isabel.”
“God!” Isabel covered her face with her hands, drowning in guilt.
“That was before your shapeshifter came in here looking like me and took her away!” Max shouted, ready to lunge at her again. “Where’d they go? WHERE DID HE TAKE HER?”
It all suddenly became perfectly clear to Ava. Zan had made his move. He’d cleaned himself up, walked into the Crashdown pretending to be Max, and walked out with Liz. Was the girl still alive somewhere, or had Zan finished his assignment already? The way he’d been acting since this assignment started, she was certain Liz had to be alive, but the question was where? And now that Zan had her, what kind of shape was she in? Ava had a strong feeling Zan intended to linger over this assignment, drawing out his pleasure, and the victim’s excruciating pain.
“TELL ME!” Max shouted again, losing it. He’d failed Liz completely. Failed to protect her. Failed to look out for her. Failed to keep her safe. “I swear to God, if Nasedo –”
“It wasn’t a shapeshifter,” Ava said in a small voice.
“I saw him,” Isabel spoke up. “It looked just like Max.”
“It was Max,” Ava started to explain, and then cowered back against the wall when Max threw himself at her. Michael had to hold him back. His anger, his rage, reminded her more and more of Zan, but his eyes were still all Max. The depth of emotion she saw there couldn’t be duplicated.
“Not you, but a version of you,” Ava hurried the words out. “Not a shapeshifter, but a duplicate. A clone.”
“What are you talking about!?” Isabel shouted.
“We were duplicated from the same genetic material. You. Me. All of us have a genetic double,” Ava told them.
“A double?” Michael glared at her. What kind of crap was she trying to pull?
Ava swept her eyes over the five people in the room, knowing it was time to choose a side. She could mindwarp them all right now and sneak back to Zan, or she could tell this group everything she knew. She’d lived the last ten years under Zan’s tyrannical rule, following each and every order he made, under constant threat of violence, or pain, or death. This group was no match for him, they were weak, and inexperienced, and lacked the knowledge to effectively challenge a man like Zan. They were doomed to failure to even try. Even so, her choice wasn’t hard to make.
“They made two sets of us,” Ava began to tell their story. “The primaries and the back-ups. They sent us here for a purpose. A mission. One phase of that mission Max’s duplicate is now completing. To find Liz. To . . .”
“To kill her,” Maria finished, shivering inside.
“Is she . . .?” Max couldn’t say it out loud. His legs trembled at the thought that she might be –
“She’s not dead yet,” Ava said, shaking her head.
“How do you know?” Michael asked.
“Because . . .” Ava stumbled, not sure how to finish. “Because he . . . Zan . . . he wants her first.”
* * * * *
Zan watched Liz through the concealed window, tracking her movements, studying his captive prey. She walked around the stark room, slowly running her hands over the white walls, searching for a way out. Her panic was palpable, rolling off her in waves, the scent of her fear strong enough to actually penetrate the glass. Yet beneath that surface layer of fear he felt something else, something he couldn’t name.
Her movements were methodical and precise, hinting at the level of her intelligence. Perhaps this was why she’d been chosen. Did her intelligence pose an unusual risk? And why did it matter to him? He’d never cared why they were selected before, never questioned his assignments, never failed to eliminate his targets. What was it about her that made his reaction to her so different?
“Who are you, Liz Parker?”
She paused in front of the viewing panel with her dark eyes staring right at him, and for a moment he could have sworn she could see him, even though he knew the wall on her side was solid white.
Liz lifted her hand, pressing it flat against the wall.
Zan lifted his hand to touch hers, separated from her by the glass.
* * * * *
“Zan,” Max let the name spill from his lips. “My double. He has Liz.”
Max stayed on the far side of the room, as far away from Tess as he could get. He was afraid if he stood any closer to her he would tear her apart, and that wouldn’t help save Liz. He had to keep his emotions in check, bury them under his iron control, keep the panic at bay. Liz’s life depended on it.
“Yes,” Ava nodded.
“You’ve been working with him?” his voice rose in pitch.
“I –” Ava struggled to answer but Max didn’t give her a chance.
“Where is she?” he demanded, shaking inside. “WHERE DID HE TAKE HER?”
“I don’t know,” Ava answered truthfully. “Zan didn’t tell me –”
Isabel shot to her feet from the couch. “How could you? We took you in. We gave you a home! I thought you were different. I thought you had changed! But you’re still the same conniving bitch that came into town to screw up our lives! God, Tess! How could –”
“I’m not Tess.”
The room fell silent, all of its occupants staring in shock at the blonde haired girl. She sank into an old vinyl chair left abandoned near the wall, a torn and tattered castoff from the diner.
“If you’re not Tess,” Michael asked, tense and coiled, “then who are you?”
Max watched her closely, seeing her blonde hair, her blue eyes, the way she sat on the old chair. He could see it now, the subtle differences. Her eyes looked wary, instead of challenging like Tess’s. Her body language was protective instead of aggressive. Tess had never had a problem using her body to attract attention. This girl tried to hide, tried to avoid being noticed. When had she replaced Tess? And where was Tess now?
“My name is Ava,” she kept her eyes lowered. “Designation Audio-Visual Assault Specialist. My skillsets are deception and subterfuge.”
“Decept –” Max started to repeat what she said, but the words stuck in his throat.
“I can make you see things that aren’t there,” Ava admitted. “I can make you hear things that aren’t real.”
The back door burst open filling the room with uniformed police officers brandishing weapons. Michael jumped into action, firing a bolt of energy at one of them while Max threw out his hand trying to protect the humans.
“It’s not real,” Ava said, dropping the mindwarp. The police officers disappeared. “I just make you think it is.”
Max stared in shock at the wall of green energy shimmering in front of him. He flexed his fingers and the shield collapsed, flowing back into his hand. Where the hell had that come from?
“Max, what did you just do?” Maria stared at his hand. Everyone else was looking at him too. Ava was the only one who didn’t look surprised by his new power.
“I don’t know,” Max flexed his fingers again. Looking up, he zeroed in on Ava, wanting more answers. He’d experiment with this new power later. “Zan’s my double. You’re Tess’s. What about Isabel? She has a double, too?”
“Lonnie,” Ava told them, feeling the attention shift back to her. “Logistics Officer and Navigational Engineer. Her specialty is night reconnaissance.”
“Dreamwalks,” Isabel whispered, wrapping her arms around herself to stave off the chill coursing through her. If her double’s abilities were like hers, then deep down, how much was she like her double?
“Yes,” Ava nodded. “She can walk through dreams to assess the enemy’s location. Movements. Weaknesses.”
“Who else?” Michael asked this time. Ava’s answer didn’t surprise him.
“Rath. He’s in charge of armaments and tactical planning.”
“Is that what his name stands for?” Michael asked, catching on to the acronyms.
“No,” Ava shook her head. “He just likes the name. He thinks it makes him sound mean.”
Max stared at Ava with his head spinning. If this wasn’t so deadly serious, he might have laughed. An alien with a bad ass attitude. But it wasn’t funny. Not when Liz’s life was at stake.
“And Zan?” he asked.
“Our Unit designation is Zulu Alpha November. Zan is the leader of our Unit. He carries the name.”
“Why do you use Earth military code?” Michael asked.
“All of our training incorporates Earth military practices. We live it, breathe it, so that we know the enemy.”
“You mean us?” Isabel hurled the word at her.
“No,” Ava looked at the three aliens in the room; Max, Michael, and Isabel. “Not you. You were never meant to be the enemy. You were made to be like us.”
“No,” Isabel sank down onto the couch, not wanting to hear this. She wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t have been bred for that.
“I don’t know why you’re so human,” Ava clenched her hands together as she spoke. “We weren’t made to be that way. We were genetically engineered to be soldiers, without emotions. Zan says that you’re defective. That . . . I’m defective.”
“You feel them, don’t you?” Max asked, watching her closely. “Emotions.”
Ava slowly nodded her head. “I don’t know why.”
“I do,” Max said.
* * * * *
Liz sat huddled on the floor of the White Room with her knees drawn up to her chest. She vividly remembered the flashes she’d gotten from Max, of him pounding on these walls, trying to find a way out, only there wasn’t one. She was trapped here, with a predator who wanted to kill her. What was he waiting for? Why hadn’t he done it already? How long was he going to leave her locked inside these white walls?
She rocked back and forth trying to think, trying to devise a way to escape, to warn the others. Only one idea came to mind, Isabel and her dreamwalking ability, but she was too keyed up to fall asleep, and as things stood now, she might be dead by nightfall. She was sure Zan had no intention of letting her live.
The click of a doorknob turning drove her to her feet, pressing her back into the white wall behind her, moving far away as a hidden doorway appeared. Her stomach churned when Zan stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. In his hands he carried a change of clothing. Something green and something white.
“Put this on,” Zan tossed the bundle in her direction.
“No,” Liz batted it aside, refusing his demands.
The green scrubs and white lab coat fell to the floor in a heap. Zan clenched his jaw, a visual display of his anger. She was openly defying him. That wasn’t tolerated. He took a step towards her, she moved an equal distance away, sliding her hand along the wall. Zan scooped the pile of clothing off the floor and advanced toward her, backing her into the corner.
“I said, put this on,” his eyes burned into hers.
“I said no,” Liz didn’t back down.
“Do you know what I can do to you?” Zan towered over her.
“Yes,” she answered, without a waver in her voice. “You can kill me, probably with just the power of your mind. You can torture me. You can rape me, and I won’t be able to stop you.”
“Then why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Liz stared up at him, feeling his eyes burning into hers. She wasn’t sure where she got the courage to remain standing.
“I’m terrified of you.”
“Then put these on!” Zan shoved the clothes at her again.
“No,” she refused to take them.
Zan stood there staring at her, waging an internal battle. He could crush the life out of her right now, right this second, without batting an eye. He could turn her inferior little human brain to mush. He could cause the kind of physical pain that would leave her begging him to end it. But . . . how could he do any of those things when she looked at him with those big dark eyes, those eyes that loved him in his dreams. Those eyes that made him –
No! That wasn’t right. He didn’t love anyone. He didn’t know what the word meant. It was only in his dreams that emotions filled his soul. It was only when he was asleep, and the dreams invaded him . . . or . . . when he touched her . . . or . . . when he was close to her –
No, this wasn’t right! He was never meant to feel. He was never meant to be human!
“Fine!” Zan dropped the pile of clothing on the floor at her feet. “Have it your way.”
His hand shot out and grabbed the material of her uniform, holding it tightly in his grip. His hand glowed with alien energy, spreading in waves over the fabric, turning the cloth to ash. Her uniform fell into a pile of dust at her feet, leaving her standing nearly naked in just her undergarments.
He stared at her with his jaw clenching and his nostrils flaring, and then he abruptly turned away. Liz quickly scooped the scrubs and lab coat off the floor and held the clothing in front of her, trying to cover herself.
“Please. Let me go.”
“No,” Zan said gruffly, striding across the room.
“This is wrong! I’m no threat to you! For the love of God, please let me go!”
“No!” Zan refused to listen. She was his assigned target. He would complete his assigned task! He reached the door, using his powers to fling it open.
“Are you gonna kill me?” Liz asked in a tiny voice, afraid to hear his answer.
Zan froze in the doorway, staring out into the stark hallway, seeing nothing except the image of her dark eyes floating in front of him. Without turning around to look at her, he said the only thing he could.
“I don’t know.”
The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Liz alone in a sea of white.
TBC . . .
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 42
Ava felt the heat of their stares as soon as she entered the backroom. Kyle moved around her, with his wary eyes lacking the warmth he’d shown her earlier. Maria stood in the middle of the room, still wearing her uniform, glaring at her with open hostility. Isabel sat on the arm of the couch, with a mixture of guilt and fear on her face. Michael looked ready to kill, if need be. Max didn’t look like he would give him the chance. He was all too ready to do it himself.
“How did you do it?” Max demanded, staring right at her. “Did you mindwarp all of us into just thinking you disintegrated Nasedo in Kyle’s room? Was it all just an elaborate plan to throw us off?”
“I don’t know –”
“WHERE’S LIZ?!” Max shouted at her.
“I . . .” Ava swallowed hard. “I don’t . . . I thought Liz was supposed to stay with Isabel.”
“God!” Isabel covered her face with her hands, drowning in guilt.
“That was before your shapeshifter came in here looking like me and took her away!” Max shouted, ready to lunge at her again. “Where’d they go? WHERE DID HE TAKE HER?”
It all suddenly became perfectly clear to Ava. Zan had made his move. He’d cleaned himself up, walked into the Crashdown pretending to be Max, and walked out with Liz. Was the girl still alive somewhere, or had Zan finished his assignment already? The way he’d been acting since this assignment started, she was certain Liz had to be alive, but the question was where? And now that Zan had her, what kind of shape was she in? Ava had a strong feeling Zan intended to linger over this assignment, drawing out his pleasure, and the victim’s excruciating pain.
“TELL ME!” Max shouted again, losing it. He’d failed Liz completely. Failed to protect her. Failed to look out for her. Failed to keep her safe. “I swear to God, if Nasedo –”
“It wasn’t a shapeshifter,” Ava said in a small voice.
“I saw him,” Isabel spoke up. “It looked just like Max.”
“It was Max,” Ava started to explain, and then cowered back against the wall when Max threw himself at her. Michael had to hold him back. His anger, his rage, reminded her more and more of Zan, but his eyes were still all Max. The depth of emotion she saw there couldn’t be duplicated.
“Not you, but a version of you,” Ava hurried the words out. “Not a shapeshifter, but a duplicate. A clone.”
“What are you talking about!?” Isabel shouted.
“We were duplicated from the same genetic material. You. Me. All of us have a genetic double,” Ava told them.
“A double?” Michael glared at her. What kind of crap was she trying to pull?
Ava swept her eyes over the five people in the room, knowing it was time to choose a side. She could mindwarp them all right now and sneak back to Zan, or she could tell this group everything she knew. She’d lived the last ten years under Zan’s tyrannical rule, following each and every order he made, under constant threat of violence, or pain, or death. This group was no match for him, they were weak, and inexperienced, and lacked the knowledge to effectively challenge a man like Zan. They were doomed to failure to even try. Even so, her choice wasn’t hard to make.
“They made two sets of us,” Ava began to tell their story. “The primaries and the back-ups. They sent us here for a purpose. A mission. One phase of that mission Max’s duplicate is now completing. To find Liz. To . . .”
“To kill her,” Maria finished, shivering inside.
“Is she . . .?” Max couldn’t say it out loud. His legs trembled at the thought that she might be –
“She’s not dead yet,” Ava said, shaking her head.
“How do you know?” Michael asked.
“Because . . .” Ava stumbled, not sure how to finish. “Because he . . . Zan . . . he wants her first.”
* * * * *
Zan watched Liz through the concealed window, tracking her movements, studying his captive prey. She walked around the stark room, slowly running her hands over the white walls, searching for a way out. Her panic was palpable, rolling off her in waves, the scent of her fear strong enough to actually penetrate the glass. Yet beneath that surface layer of fear he felt something else, something he couldn’t name.
Her movements were methodical and precise, hinting at the level of her intelligence. Perhaps this was why she’d been chosen. Did her intelligence pose an unusual risk? And why did it matter to him? He’d never cared why they were selected before, never questioned his assignments, never failed to eliminate his targets. What was it about her that made his reaction to her so different?
“Who are you, Liz Parker?”
She paused in front of the viewing panel with her dark eyes staring right at him, and for a moment he could have sworn she could see him, even though he knew the wall on her side was solid white.
Liz lifted her hand, pressing it flat against the wall.
Zan lifted his hand to touch hers, separated from her by the glass.
* * * * *
“Zan,” Max let the name spill from his lips. “My double. He has Liz.”
Max stayed on the far side of the room, as far away from Tess as he could get. He was afraid if he stood any closer to her he would tear her apart, and that wouldn’t help save Liz. He had to keep his emotions in check, bury them under his iron control, keep the panic at bay. Liz’s life depended on it.
“Yes,” Ava nodded.
“You’ve been working with him?” his voice rose in pitch.
“I –” Ava struggled to answer but Max didn’t give her a chance.
“Where is she?” he demanded, shaking inside. “WHERE DID HE TAKE HER?”
“I don’t know,” Ava answered truthfully. “Zan didn’t tell me –”
Isabel shot to her feet from the couch. “How could you? We took you in. We gave you a home! I thought you were different. I thought you had changed! But you’re still the same conniving bitch that came into town to screw up our lives! God, Tess! How could –”
“I’m not Tess.”
The room fell silent, all of its occupants staring in shock at the blonde haired girl. She sank into an old vinyl chair left abandoned near the wall, a torn and tattered castoff from the diner.
“If you’re not Tess,” Michael asked, tense and coiled, “then who are you?”
Max watched her closely, seeing her blonde hair, her blue eyes, the way she sat on the old chair. He could see it now, the subtle differences. Her eyes looked wary, instead of challenging like Tess’s. Her body language was protective instead of aggressive. Tess had never had a problem using her body to attract attention. This girl tried to hide, tried to avoid being noticed. When had she replaced Tess? And where was Tess now?
“My name is Ava,” she kept her eyes lowered. “Designation Audio-Visual Assault Specialist. My skillsets are deception and subterfuge.”
“Decept –” Max started to repeat what she said, but the words stuck in his throat.
“I can make you see things that aren’t there,” Ava admitted. “I can make you hear things that aren’t real.”
The back door burst open filling the room with uniformed police officers brandishing weapons. Michael jumped into action, firing a bolt of energy at one of them while Max threw out his hand trying to protect the humans.
“It’s not real,” Ava said, dropping the mindwarp. The police officers disappeared. “I just make you think it is.”
Max stared in shock at the wall of green energy shimmering in front of him. He flexed his fingers and the shield collapsed, flowing back into his hand. Where the hell had that come from?
“Max, what did you just do?” Maria stared at his hand. Everyone else was looking at him too. Ava was the only one who didn’t look surprised by his new power.
“I don’t know,” Max flexed his fingers again. Looking up, he zeroed in on Ava, wanting more answers. He’d experiment with this new power later. “Zan’s my double. You’re Tess’s. What about Isabel? She has a double, too?”
“Lonnie,” Ava told them, feeling the attention shift back to her. “Logistics Officer and Navigational Engineer. Her specialty is night reconnaissance.”
“Dreamwalks,” Isabel whispered, wrapping her arms around herself to stave off the chill coursing through her. If her double’s abilities were like hers, then deep down, how much was she like her double?
“Yes,” Ava nodded. “She can walk through dreams to assess the enemy’s location. Movements. Weaknesses.”
“Who else?” Michael asked this time. Ava’s answer didn’t surprise him.
“Rath. He’s in charge of armaments and tactical planning.”
“Is that what his name stands for?” Michael asked, catching on to the acronyms.
“No,” Ava shook her head. “He just likes the name. He thinks it makes him sound mean.”
Max stared at Ava with his head spinning. If this wasn’t so deadly serious, he might have laughed. An alien with a bad ass attitude. But it wasn’t funny. Not when Liz’s life was at stake.
“And Zan?” he asked.
“Our Unit designation is Zulu Alpha November. Zan is the leader of our Unit. He carries the name.”
“Why do you use Earth military code?” Michael asked.
“All of our training incorporates Earth military practices. We live it, breathe it, so that we know the enemy.”
“You mean us?” Isabel hurled the word at her.
“No,” Ava looked at the three aliens in the room; Max, Michael, and Isabel. “Not you. You were never meant to be the enemy. You were made to be like us.”
“No,” Isabel sank down onto the couch, not wanting to hear this. She wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t have been bred for that.
“I don’t know why you’re so human,” Ava clenched her hands together as she spoke. “We weren’t made to be that way. We were genetically engineered to be soldiers, without emotions. Zan says that you’re defective. That . . . I’m defective.”
“You feel them, don’t you?” Max asked, watching her closely. “Emotions.”
Ava slowly nodded her head. “I don’t know why.”
“I do,” Max said.
* * * * *
Liz sat huddled on the floor of the White Room with her knees drawn up to her chest. She vividly remembered the flashes she’d gotten from Max, of him pounding on these walls, trying to find a way out, only there wasn’t one. She was trapped here, with a predator who wanted to kill her. What was he waiting for? Why hadn’t he done it already? How long was he going to leave her locked inside these white walls?
She rocked back and forth trying to think, trying to devise a way to escape, to warn the others. Only one idea came to mind, Isabel and her dreamwalking ability, but she was too keyed up to fall asleep, and as things stood now, she might be dead by nightfall. She was sure Zan had no intention of letting her live.
The click of a doorknob turning drove her to her feet, pressing her back into the white wall behind her, moving far away as a hidden doorway appeared. Her stomach churned when Zan stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. In his hands he carried a change of clothing. Something green and something white.
“Put this on,” Zan tossed the bundle in her direction.
“No,” Liz batted it aside, refusing his demands.
The green scrubs and white lab coat fell to the floor in a heap. Zan clenched his jaw, a visual display of his anger. She was openly defying him. That wasn’t tolerated. He took a step towards her, she moved an equal distance away, sliding her hand along the wall. Zan scooped the pile of clothing off the floor and advanced toward her, backing her into the corner.
“I said, put this on,” his eyes burned into hers.
“I said no,” Liz didn’t back down.
“Do you know what I can do to you?” Zan towered over her.
“Yes,” she answered, without a waver in her voice. “You can kill me, probably with just the power of your mind. You can torture me. You can rape me, and I won’t be able to stop you.”
“Then why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Liz stared up at him, feeling his eyes burning into hers. She wasn’t sure where she got the courage to remain standing.
“I’m terrified of you.”
“Then put these on!” Zan shoved the clothes at her again.
“No,” she refused to take them.
Zan stood there staring at her, waging an internal battle. He could crush the life out of her right now, right this second, without batting an eye. He could turn her inferior little human brain to mush. He could cause the kind of physical pain that would leave her begging him to end it. But . . . how could he do any of those things when she looked at him with those big dark eyes, those eyes that loved him in his dreams. Those eyes that made him –
No! That wasn’t right. He didn’t love anyone. He didn’t know what the word meant. It was only in his dreams that emotions filled his soul. It was only when he was asleep, and the dreams invaded him . . . or . . . when he touched her . . . or . . . when he was close to her –
No, this wasn’t right! He was never meant to feel. He was never meant to be human!
“Fine!” Zan dropped the pile of clothing on the floor at her feet. “Have it your way.”
His hand shot out and grabbed the material of her uniform, holding it tightly in his grip. His hand glowed with alien energy, spreading in waves over the fabric, turning the cloth to ash. Her uniform fell into a pile of dust at her feet, leaving her standing nearly naked in just her undergarments.
He stared at her with his jaw clenching and his nostrils flaring, and then he abruptly turned away. Liz quickly scooped the scrubs and lab coat off the floor and held the clothing in front of her, trying to cover herself.
“Please. Let me go.”
“No,” Zan said gruffly, striding across the room.
“This is wrong! I’m no threat to you! For the love of God, please let me go!”
“No!” Zan refused to listen. She was his assigned target. He would complete his assigned task! He reached the door, using his powers to fling it open.
“Are you gonna kill me?” Liz asked in a tiny voice, afraid to hear his answer.
Zan froze in the doorway, staring out into the stark hallway, seeing nothing except the image of her dark eyes floating in front of him. Without turning around to look at her, he said the only thing he could.
“I don’t know.”
The door slammed closed behind him, leaving Liz alone in a sea of white.
TBC . . .
-
Breathless
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- Posts: 254
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Aftermath Part 43
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Author note: Thanks for all your patience waiting for a new part. The holidays are sure hectic, and don't leave much writing time. Also, given where we are in this story, I knew this part was probably best saved until after Christmas. Does everyone remember where we were at?
Max and company have just found out Tess is actually Ava. Liz, meanwhile, is locked away in the White Room, held prisioner by Zan.
On with the story . . .
Aftermath
Part 43
Max paced the backroom of the Crashdown, trying to put his thoughts into words, with five sets of eyes watching him. His mind buzzed with everything he’d heard, all the possibilities and realities crashing around inside his head. He had to figure this out if he was to have a prayer of saving Liz. He paused, pulling his hand away from his mouth, and looked straight at Ava.
“So let me see if I understand this. There are two sets of us. Zan’s group and mine.” When Ava nodded Max continued. “Zan’s group has spent the last ten years carrying out the ‘mission’. Assassinating the targets you were assigned.”
“Yes,” Ava nodded, lowering her head.
“Just like the message,” Isabel blurted out. “From the orb Michael and I activated.”
“You have an orb?” Ava’s head shot back up.
“We have two,” Max told her.
“And the message?”
“We got two different messages. One,” he raked his hand back through his hair, clearly disturbed by it. “The one recovered from the crash said . . . that . . . it described –”
“It told us we were killers,” Isabel finished for him. “Just like you.”
Ava cringed at the term, but Isabel was right. That was her life, moving from one killing assignment to another. “And the other message?”
“Liz and I found that orb in the desert,” Max said. “We . . . Liz kept getting flashes that led us to it. Then, once we found it,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “then things calmed down.”
“Calmed down?”
Kyle shook his head at Ava, snorting, “You don’t wanna know.”
The tension in the room eased for a moment with knowing smiles passing between everyone but Max and Ava. Ava didn’t understand the joke. Max was too upset to think anything was funny.
“When we activated the orb, the message said we were sent here to protect Liz,” Max said, sagging inwardly, reminded of his failure.
“Have you gotten any incoming messages since you activated them?” Ava asked.
“No,” Max shook his head. “But, they’re hidden. We don’t exactly carry them around. I can go get them if you think they might help us find Liz. I can show you –”
“No!” Ava blurted out. “When you activate an orb, it sends out a beacon. That’s probably what gave away your location. Zan got a message that an unidentified orb was activated in this sector, near a primary target –”
“Oh Jesus,” Max sank down onto the couch, clutching his head between his hands. “We brought you here. We activated the orbs and brought you here. If – if we’d left them alone, Liz would still be safe. God!”
“Max, don’t do this to yourself,” Isabel rubbed her hand over his back, trying to comfort him, but his guilt was too strong to be soothed.
Michael cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Max’s meltdown. He looked at Ava and asked, “You said something about incoming messages. Is that how they work?”
“They transmit data,” Ava nodded. “Zan gets all his assignments from the orb. They transmit all the information to him that way.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Michael asked. He wanted to know exactly who the enemy was, what their weaknesses were, and how to find them.
“I don’t know,” Ava answered. “Zan controls it all. It’s keyed to his biological signature. The rest of us can’t activate it. It’s how he keeps the others in line.”
“Because they’re as cut-throat as he is?” Michael asked. Max shot him a pained look but Michael stoically ignored it. This was no time for treading lightly. Liz was being held by an alien monster without a heart. Pretending it wasn’t true wasn’t going to help.
“Yes,” Ava answered. “They . . . enjoy their work.”
“But you don’t,” Kyle spoke up, watching Ava closely. Her blue eyes showed the same kind of emotion he’d seen in Tess recently.
“No,” Ava’s voice came out soft. Broken. “I – I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Why is she so different from them?” Maria asked, looking toward Max for the answer.
“Because she should have been one of us.”
* * * * *
“Let’s go,” Rath reached for the motel room door, impatient to get out. He’d been cooped up here for too long.
“It’s not time yet,” Lonnie argued.
“So what?” Rath shot back. “Zan ain’t here to bitch at us for leavin’ early. I can’t stand another minute in this fuckin’ place.”
“Fine!” Lonnie rose from the couch. “But you’re takin’ the flack if he –”
Her words cut off when a familiar noise intruded, the steady beep that indicated a message coming in.
“That’s priority status,” Rath said, reacting to the strident sound.
“We better tell Zan,” Lonnie said, reaching for the orb.
* * * * *
Zan stood in front of the viewing panel watching the girl in the other room. Liz sat in a corner with her legs drawn up to her chest and her head resting on her knees, hiding her eyes from him. He reached out with his mind, probing her thoughts . . .
Harsh breaths. Panic. His fists pounding on the white walls.
“They have Max. They have Max.”
Trapped. His secret exposed. His worse nightmare coming true.
“You’ve made a mistake.”
Sitting at a table. Watching a clock. Each second longer than the last.
“Bring him back to me.”
Fear. Panic. Pain. So much pain. Vocal chords raw from screaming.
Zan pulled out of her mind with a start, surprised and confused by what he’d seen, what he’d felt. How was it possible for her mind to have another’s memories? To reflect his double’s emotions?
“You’re connected to him,” Zan leaned forward, whispering against the glass. “But you’re human . . .”
His breath hitched when she lifted her head and her dark eyes looked right at him. An unfamiliar palpitation assailed his heart, but he wouldn’t admit it had anything to do with the tear he saw trickling down her cheek.
Fighting against the things he didn’t want to think about, he lifted his glowing hand to the glass and said, “Sleep. Go to sleep now.”
In the White Room, Liz’s eyelids grew heavy, leaving her unguarded and vulnerable.
* * * * *
“Tess never fit in,” Max told the group. “I thought I overreacted to her because she tried to come between me and Liz, but really, she never fit in with any of us.”
“Except with me,” Kyle said, faltering. “She – I saw a side of her you guys never noticed. Granted, she was cold and calculating when she first came to town, but after she moved in with me and my dad, I think she changed. I don’t think it was all an act.”
“Where is she now?” Isabel asked, feeling a stab of guilt that she hadn’t asked about Tess before, reinforcing her fear that deep inside, she was just as heartless as the others.
“Zan . . . has her,” Ava answered. “He owns her now.”
Isabel shuddered, guessing what that meant. She looked at her brother, seeing the tortured look on his face.
“And now that he has Liz?” Maria asked in a trembling voice. “Does he own her too –”
“I need some air,” Max shot to his feet and backed out of the room, not wanting to hear the answer to that question. He couldn’t stand the thought of the monster Ava described being anywhere near Liz. Owning her. Using her. Killing her. He had to stop Zan, even if it meant turning into a killing monster just like him to do it.
“Max –” Isabel called after him.
“Let him go,” Michael advised. “If he’s not back in a few minutes I’ll go get him.”
* * * * *
Zan stood over Liz, watching her sleep in a cramped position on the floor. Her chest gently rose and fell with each breath, her body dressed in the green scrubs he had given her. The white lab coat lay under her cheek, rolled up to serve as a pillow.
He knelt down beside her, brushing her silken hair back from her face, studying her. She looked uncomfortable.
He stood and gave the room a cursory look before crossing over to the nearest white wall. He pressed his hand against it, changing the color, adding texture, altering the appearance. A sweep of his hand added a window, made a set of drapes by altering the molecular structure of the wall, created a bed and a dresser and a desk. When he was done, he stood inside a replica of Liz Parker’s bedroom, right down to the brown teddy bear on her bed.
He returned to the sleeping figure on the floor and picked her up, careful not to wake her. She felt featherlite in his arms as he walked across the room to the bed, and when she nuzzled into his shoulder it caused another rush of unsettling emotions, a rumble in his stomach he couldn’t understand. Until she mumbled a name that wasn’t his.
“Max . . .”
The hackles on his neck rose, the alpha male in him objecting to her voicing another man’s name, but he forced it back. Reacting to it conflicted with his plans right now. He used his powers to turn back the sheets on the bed and gently set her down. His fingers brushed along her cheek, down her throat, until he touched the collar of the green scrubs. Seconds later the top disappeared. Moments later the pants did too.
His hand hovered above the white cotton of her bra, trembling with want, but remembering what happened earlier. How the white had turned to polka dot. He knelt down beside the bed, moving his hand lower instead, touching the flawless skin below her ribs. The skin that had once been torn and rended by a bullet. He shook as another flash hit him.
“Liz. LIZ. You have to look at me. You have to look at me.”
His face, hovering over her, absorbing the pain, repairing the flesh, dissolving the bullet.
Zan pulled his hand back, staring at her pristine flesh before lifting his eyes to her sleeping face. “He healed you. You were shot and he healed you.”
Liz stirred, then sighed, curling in on herself to stave off the cold.
Zan rose to his feet, lifting his hands to the buttons on his shirt, unfastening each one with slow premeditation, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.
“When I break his bond, you’ll come to me. Willingly. And then you’ll be mine.”
His shirt slid off his shoulders, down his arms, over the tense muscles, the tan flesh, the pulsing veins in his forearms, sliding free of his hands, falling to the floor at his feet.
* * * * *
Max wandered down the heat baked alley behind the Crashdown, knowing he should go back, but needing a moment to think without the others watching him. It wasn’t unusual to feel the focus of their attention, to feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to make a choice, or to challenge his decisions. But this time, the stakes were too high. Liz’s survival depended on him, but he had no idea how to save her, or even where to start. Ava, the only link he had to Zan, didn’t know where he’d taken her.
“You okay?”
Max whirled around at the sound, the deep voice that belonged to the imposing figure leaning against the Crashdown’s exterior brick wall.
“Michael,” Max relaxed, letting out a deep breath.
“Isabel sent me out here. She’s worried about you.”
“I’m okay,” Max brushed it off. “Liz is the one we need to worry about.”
“Right,” Michael pushed off and walked in Max’s direction. “Maybe we should go back inside –”
A familiar car sped down the alley coming to a screeching stop just inches from Max. Isabel stuck her head out of the Jetta and shouted, “Max! Michael! Tess just thought of something. Where Liz might be! Hurry! Get in!”
“WHAT?” Max blurted out, the shock of it leaving him momentarily immobile. Seconds later he got his butt in gear and raced for the car. “WHERE?!”
Michael jumped into the passenger seat next to Isabel, Max yanked open the back door and scrambled into the backseat. Isabel floored the accelerator, spewing loose gravel from beneath the tires.
“What did she say?” Max leaned over the front seat, grilling his sister. He never should have left the restaurant. He should have stayed there and grilled Av –
Wait.
Max felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. Why did Isabel say Tess thought of something? Tess wasn’t with them.
“There’s a place out in the desert,” Isabel’s image looked at him in the rear view mirror. When Max turned around to look out the back window, she flashed her front seat companion a wicked smile. He held out his hand, bumping fists, smiling right back.
“Where in the desert?” Max faced forward again, keeping his tone even. A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead, but it wasn’t because he was warm. The air conditioner was on full force, keeping the summer heat at bay . . . but . . . the Jetta’s air conditioner didn’t work. Maria complained about it all the time.
“She gave me directions,” the girl driving the Jetta said before fishtailing around a corner. “Hold on!”
Max braced his arm against the door, knowing that Isabel had never driven this way in her life. As the car righted and picked up speed, Max doubted Isabel was even capable of making a maneuver like that. That took skill, and years of practice at making fast getaways. But Isabel got her drivers license barely a year ago, and their mom’s car wasn’t exactly a speed demon.
Max shifted his eyes over to Michael, eyeing him cautiously, noting the same shirt, the same pants, the same shoes he was wearing earlier . . . except . . . the scratch on his arm was gone. The scratch Michael had gotten in the bushes at Alex’s crash site this morning. The scratch Max hadn’t healed.
His hand slowly lowered to the door handle, gripping it with his sweaty palm. He tried to swallow down his dry throat, but all his spit was gone. The color had drained from his face, knowing who was sitting in the front seat. There was only one way to confirm it, though. Max took in a deep breath trying to still his pounding heart, before venturing a name.
“Rath.”
“Yeah?” Rath turned his head to look over his shoulder.
Max pulled up on the handle with all his might, wrenching the door open, seeing the pavement and the shoulder of the road flashing by before he flung himself out of the speeding car. Getting captured or killed by Zan’s compatriots wasn’t going to help Liz. They’d come after him for a reason, and he had to get away before their plan worked.
Max impacted hard, feeling the pavement tear at his shirt, gravel and dirt imbedding into his skin. He rolled end over end, trying to protect his head, feeling blinding pain in his shoulders, back, and legs.
“YOU IDIOT!” Lonnie hit Rath across the chest and slammed on the brakes. The car slid to a sideways stop. Her eyes darted to the rear view mirror, seeing the unmoving figure lying in the dirt on the side of the road.
“You fuck this up and Zan’s gonna kill you,” Lonnie nearly spit in Rath’s face. “Now go get him and you better pray he ain’t dead!”
Max shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He pushed himself up, with every muscle in his body protesting loudly. Beneath his hands, the pavement felt hot and rough, and pebbles poked painfully into his palms. Blood trickled through the dirt on his face from a cut on his forehead. His right sleeve lay in tatters, covered with streaks of blood. The pain in his chest hinted of at least one broken rib, maybe more. He coughed out a spray of blood, hoping it was from his severely bitten tongue, and not from internal bleeding. He pushed to his feet, knowing his only chance for survival was to run. Rath and Lonnie were killers. Murderers. Without an ounce of humanity between them.
“That wasn’t very smart!” Rath shouted out at the figure staggering down the road. “You might have killed yourself, and denied me the pleasure.” What he wouldn’t give to watch Zan die, even if it was only his double.
Max swayed on his feet with his vision swimming in and out of focus. The gravel under his heels crunched as he tried to turn away from the figure advancing toward him. If he could find a car to flag down, or a truck, anything to get away from the murderer stalking him.
Rath lifted his arm, smiling an evil grin.
A blast hit Max in the ribs, knocking him right off his feet, hurtling him through the air. He came down hard on his back, feeling the wind rush out of his lungs and the gravel tear into his flesh. For a moment he thought he’d breathed his last breath, his lungs refused to work and his vision darkened, until the spasm passed and his lungs filled with a gasp, delaying the inevitable.
“Stay down and I’ll let you live,” Rath called out, adding with a smirk, “for now.”
Max slowly rolled over onto his side, using every bit of his strength to push up on all fours. He lifted his head just in time to see Rath hurl another blast his way. Instinctively, he raised his hand trying to deflect it, releasing a surge of power. The green barrier formed between him and his attacker.
“That shield ain’t gonna help ya,” Rath advanced on him, hurling another blast his way. The shield wavered and weakened on impact. Max didn’t have time to assess this new found power before the shield failed, and left him defenseless. Rath came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his hair and jerking his head backwards.
“What do you want?” Max gasped, coughing up blood, holding his arm against his damaged ribs.
“You,” Rath snorted, laughing in his face.
Lonnie pulled the Jetta to a stop beside them. “Put him in the back.”
Rough hands were the last thing Max was consciously aware of, dragging him across the road and then lifting him up like a rag doll. He landed on the back seat, wincing in pain, before sinking into the dark depths of oblivion.
TBC . . .
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Author note: Thanks for all your patience waiting for a new part. The holidays are sure hectic, and don't leave much writing time. Also, given where we are in this story, I knew this part was probably best saved until after Christmas. Does everyone remember where we were at?
Max and company have just found out Tess is actually Ava. Liz, meanwhile, is locked away in the White Room, held prisioner by Zan.
On with the story . . .
Aftermath
Part 43
Max paced the backroom of the Crashdown, trying to put his thoughts into words, with five sets of eyes watching him. His mind buzzed with everything he’d heard, all the possibilities and realities crashing around inside his head. He had to figure this out if he was to have a prayer of saving Liz. He paused, pulling his hand away from his mouth, and looked straight at Ava.
“So let me see if I understand this. There are two sets of us. Zan’s group and mine.” When Ava nodded Max continued. “Zan’s group has spent the last ten years carrying out the ‘mission’. Assassinating the targets you were assigned.”
“Yes,” Ava nodded, lowering her head.
“Just like the message,” Isabel blurted out. “From the orb Michael and I activated.”
“You have an orb?” Ava’s head shot back up.
“We have two,” Max told her.
“And the message?”
“We got two different messages. One,” he raked his hand back through his hair, clearly disturbed by it. “The one recovered from the crash said . . . that . . . it described –”
“It told us we were killers,” Isabel finished for him. “Just like you.”
Ava cringed at the term, but Isabel was right. That was her life, moving from one killing assignment to another. “And the other message?”
“Liz and I found that orb in the desert,” Max said. “We . . . Liz kept getting flashes that led us to it. Then, once we found it,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “then things calmed down.”
“Calmed down?”
Kyle shook his head at Ava, snorting, “You don’t wanna know.”
The tension in the room eased for a moment with knowing smiles passing between everyone but Max and Ava. Ava didn’t understand the joke. Max was too upset to think anything was funny.
“When we activated the orb, the message said we were sent here to protect Liz,” Max said, sagging inwardly, reminded of his failure.
“Have you gotten any incoming messages since you activated them?” Ava asked.
“No,” Max shook his head. “But, they’re hidden. We don’t exactly carry them around. I can go get them if you think they might help us find Liz. I can show you –”
“No!” Ava blurted out. “When you activate an orb, it sends out a beacon. That’s probably what gave away your location. Zan got a message that an unidentified orb was activated in this sector, near a primary target –”
“Oh Jesus,” Max sank down onto the couch, clutching his head between his hands. “We brought you here. We activated the orbs and brought you here. If – if we’d left them alone, Liz would still be safe. God!”
“Max, don’t do this to yourself,” Isabel rubbed her hand over his back, trying to comfort him, but his guilt was too strong to be soothed.
Michael cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Max’s meltdown. He looked at Ava and asked, “You said something about incoming messages. Is that how they work?”
“They transmit data,” Ava nodded. “Zan gets all his assignments from the orb. They transmit all the information to him that way.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Michael asked. He wanted to know exactly who the enemy was, what their weaknesses were, and how to find them.
“I don’t know,” Ava answered. “Zan controls it all. It’s keyed to his biological signature. The rest of us can’t activate it. It’s how he keeps the others in line.”
“Because they’re as cut-throat as he is?” Michael asked. Max shot him a pained look but Michael stoically ignored it. This was no time for treading lightly. Liz was being held by an alien monster without a heart. Pretending it wasn’t true wasn’t going to help.
“Yes,” Ava answered. “They . . . enjoy their work.”
“But you don’t,” Kyle spoke up, watching Ava closely. Her blue eyes showed the same kind of emotion he’d seen in Tess recently.
“No,” Ava’s voice came out soft. Broken. “I – I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“Why is she so different from them?” Maria asked, looking toward Max for the answer.
“Because she should have been one of us.”
* * * * *
“Let’s go,” Rath reached for the motel room door, impatient to get out. He’d been cooped up here for too long.
“It’s not time yet,” Lonnie argued.
“So what?” Rath shot back. “Zan ain’t here to bitch at us for leavin’ early. I can’t stand another minute in this fuckin’ place.”
“Fine!” Lonnie rose from the couch. “But you’re takin’ the flack if he –”
Her words cut off when a familiar noise intruded, the steady beep that indicated a message coming in.
“That’s priority status,” Rath said, reacting to the strident sound.
“We better tell Zan,” Lonnie said, reaching for the orb.
* * * * *
Zan stood in front of the viewing panel watching the girl in the other room. Liz sat in a corner with her legs drawn up to her chest and her head resting on her knees, hiding her eyes from him. He reached out with his mind, probing her thoughts . . .
Harsh breaths. Panic. His fists pounding on the white walls.
“They have Max. They have Max.”
Trapped. His secret exposed. His worse nightmare coming true.
“You’ve made a mistake.”
Sitting at a table. Watching a clock. Each second longer than the last.
“Bring him back to me.”
Fear. Panic. Pain. So much pain. Vocal chords raw from screaming.
Zan pulled out of her mind with a start, surprised and confused by what he’d seen, what he’d felt. How was it possible for her mind to have another’s memories? To reflect his double’s emotions?
“You’re connected to him,” Zan leaned forward, whispering against the glass. “But you’re human . . .”
His breath hitched when she lifted her head and her dark eyes looked right at him. An unfamiliar palpitation assailed his heart, but he wouldn’t admit it had anything to do with the tear he saw trickling down her cheek.
Fighting against the things he didn’t want to think about, he lifted his glowing hand to the glass and said, “Sleep. Go to sleep now.”
In the White Room, Liz’s eyelids grew heavy, leaving her unguarded and vulnerable.
* * * * *
“Tess never fit in,” Max told the group. “I thought I overreacted to her because she tried to come between me and Liz, but really, she never fit in with any of us.”
“Except with me,” Kyle said, faltering. “She – I saw a side of her you guys never noticed. Granted, she was cold and calculating when she first came to town, but after she moved in with me and my dad, I think she changed. I don’t think it was all an act.”
“Where is she now?” Isabel asked, feeling a stab of guilt that she hadn’t asked about Tess before, reinforcing her fear that deep inside, she was just as heartless as the others.
“Zan . . . has her,” Ava answered. “He owns her now.”
Isabel shuddered, guessing what that meant. She looked at her brother, seeing the tortured look on his face.
“And now that he has Liz?” Maria asked in a trembling voice. “Does he own her too –”
“I need some air,” Max shot to his feet and backed out of the room, not wanting to hear the answer to that question. He couldn’t stand the thought of the monster Ava described being anywhere near Liz. Owning her. Using her. Killing her. He had to stop Zan, even if it meant turning into a killing monster just like him to do it.
“Max –” Isabel called after him.
“Let him go,” Michael advised. “If he’s not back in a few minutes I’ll go get him.”
* * * * *
Zan stood over Liz, watching her sleep in a cramped position on the floor. Her chest gently rose and fell with each breath, her body dressed in the green scrubs he had given her. The white lab coat lay under her cheek, rolled up to serve as a pillow.
He knelt down beside her, brushing her silken hair back from her face, studying her. She looked uncomfortable.
He stood and gave the room a cursory look before crossing over to the nearest white wall. He pressed his hand against it, changing the color, adding texture, altering the appearance. A sweep of his hand added a window, made a set of drapes by altering the molecular structure of the wall, created a bed and a dresser and a desk. When he was done, he stood inside a replica of Liz Parker’s bedroom, right down to the brown teddy bear on her bed.
He returned to the sleeping figure on the floor and picked her up, careful not to wake her. She felt featherlite in his arms as he walked across the room to the bed, and when she nuzzled into his shoulder it caused another rush of unsettling emotions, a rumble in his stomach he couldn’t understand. Until she mumbled a name that wasn’t his.
“Max . . .”
The hackles on his neck rose, the alpha male in him objecting to her voicing another man’s name, but he forced it back. Reacting to it conflicted with his plans right now. He used his powers to turn back the sheets on the bed and gently set her down. His fingers brushed along her cheek, down her throat, until he touched the collar of the green scrubs. Seconds later the top disappeared. Moments later the pants did too.
His hand hovered above the white cotton of her bra, trembling with want, but remembering what happened earlier. How the white had turned to polka dot. He knelt down beside the bed, moving his hand lower instead, touching the flawless skin below her ribs. The skin that had once been torn and rended by a bullet. He shook as another flash hit him.
“Liz. LIZ. You have to look at me. You have to look at me.”
His face, hovering over her, absorbing the pain, repairing the flesh, dissolving the bullet.
Zan pulled his hand back, staring at her pristine flesh before lifting his eyes to her sleeping face. “He healed you. You were shot and he healed you.”
Liz stirred, then sighed, curling in on herself to stave off the cold.
Zan rose to his feet, lifting his hands to the buttons on his shirt, unfastening each one with slow premeditation, keeping his eyes fixed on her face.
“When I break his bond, you’ll come to me. Willingly. And then you’ll be mine.”
His shirt slid off his shoulders, down his arms, over the tense muscles, the tan flesh, the pulsing veins in his forearms, sliding free of his hands, falling to the floor at his feet.
* * * * *
Max wandered down the heat baked alley behind the Crashdown, knowing he should go back, but needing a moment to think without the others watching him. It wasn’t unusual to feel the focus of their attention, to feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to make a choice, or to challenge his decisions. But this time, the stakes were too high. Liz’s survival depended on him, but he had no idea how to save her, or even where to start. Ava, the only link he had to Zan, didn’t know where he’d taken her.
“You okay?”
Max whirled around at the sound, the deep voice that belonged to the imposing figure leaning against the Crashdown’s exterior brick wall.
“Michael,” Max relaxed, letting out a deep breath.
“Isabel sent me out here. She’s worried about you.”
“I’m okay,” Max brushed it off. “Liz is the one we need to worry about.”
“Right,” Michael pushed off and walked in Max’s direction. “Maybe we should go back inside –”
A familiar car sped down the alley coming to a screeching stop just inches from Max. Isabel stuck her head out of the Jetta and shouted, “Max! Michael! Tess just thought of something. Where Liz might be! Hurry! Get in!”
“WHAT?” Max blurted out, the shock of it leaving him momentarily immobile. Seconds later he got his butt in gear and raced for the car. “WHERE?!”
Michael jumped into the passenger seat next to Isabel, Max yanked open the back door and scrambled into the backseat. Isabel floored the accelerator, spewing loose gravel from beneath the tires.
“What did she say?” Max leaned over the front seat, grilling his sister. He never should have left the restaurant. He should have stayed there and grilled Av –
Wait.
Max felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. Why did Isabel say Tess thought of something? Tess wasn’t with them.
“There’s a place out in the desert,” Isabel’s image looked at him in the rear view mirror. When Max turned around to look out the back window, she flashed her front seat companion a wicked smile. He held out his hand, bumping fists, smiling right back.
“Where in the desert?” Max faced forward again, keeping his tone even. A bead of sweat popped out on his forehead, but it wasn’t because he was warm. The air conditioner was on full force, keeping the summer heat at bay . . . but . . . the Jetta’s air conditioner didn’t work. Maria complained about it all the time.
“She gave me directions,” the girl driving the Jetta said before fishtailing around a corner. “Hold on!”
Max braced his arm against the door, knowing that Isabel had never driven this way in her life. As the car righted and picked up speed, Max doubted Isabel was even capable of making a maneuver like that. That took skill, and years of practice at making fast getaways. But Isabel got her drivers license barely a year ago, and their mom’s car wasn’t exactly a speed demon.
Max shifted his eyes over to Michael, eyeing him cautiously, noting the same shirt, the same pants, the same shoes he was wearing earlier . . . except . . . the scratch on his arm was gone. The scratch Michael had gotten in the bushes at Alex’s crash site this morning. The scratch Max hadn’t healed.
His hand slowly lowered to the door handle, gripping it with his sweaty palm. He tried to swallow down his dry throat, but all his spit was gone. The color had drained from his face, knowing who was sitting in the front seat. There was only one way to confirm it, though. Max took in a deep breath trying to still his pounding heart, before venturing a name.
“Rath.”
“Yeah?” Rath turned his head to look over his shoulder.
Max pulled up on the handle with all his might, wrenching the door open, seeing the pavement and the shoulder of the road flashing by before he flung himself out of the speeding car. Getting captured or killed by Zan’s compatriots wasn’t going to help Liz. They’d come after him for a reason, and he had to get away before their plan worked.
Max impacted hard, feeling the pavement tear at his shirt, gravel and dirt imbedding into his skin. He rolled end over end, trying to protect his head, feeling blinding pain in his shoulders, back, and legs.
“YOU IDIOT!” Lonnie hit Rath across the chest and slammed on the brakes. The car slid to a sideways stop. Her eyes darted to the rear view mirror, seeing the unmoving figure lying in the dirt on the side of the road.
“You fuck this up and Zan’s gonna kill you,” Lonnie nearly spit in Rath’s face. “Now go get him and you better pray he ain’t dead!”
Max shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. He pushed himself up, with every muscle in his body protesting loudly. Beneath his hands, the pavement felt hot and rough, and pebbles poked painfully into his palms. Blood trickled through the dirt on his face from a cut on his forehead. His right sleeve lay in tatters, covered with streaks of blood. The pain in his chest hinted of at least one broken rib, maybe more. He coughed out a spray of blood, hoping it was from his severely bitten tongue, and not from internal bleeding. He pushed to his feet, knowing his only chance for survival was to run. Rath and Lonnie were killers. Murderers. Without an ounce of humanity between them.
“That wasn’t very smart!” Rath shouted out at the figure staggering down the road. “You might have killed yourself, and denied me the pleasure.” What he wouldn’t give to watch Zan die, even if it was only his double.
Max swayed on his feet with his vision swimming in and out of focus. The gravel under his heels crunched as he tried to turn away from the figure advancing toward him. If he could find a car to flag down, or a truck, anything to get away from the murderer stalking him.
Rath lifted his arm, smiling an evil grin.
A blast hit Max in the ribs, knocking him right off his feet, hurtling him through the air. He came down hard on his back, feeling the wind rush out of his lungs and the gravel tear into his flesh. For a moment he thought he’d breathed his last breath, his lungs refused to work and his vision darkened, until the spasm passed and his lungs filled with a gasp, delaying the inevitable.
“Stay down and I’ll let you live,” Rath called out, adding with a smirk, “for now.”
Max slowly rolled over onto his side, using every bit of his strength to push up on all fours. He lifted his head just in time to see Rath hurl another blast his way. Instinctively, he raised his hand trying to deflect it, releasing a surge of power. The green barrier formed between him and his attacker.
“That shield ain’t gonna help ya,” Rath advanced on him, hurling another blast his way. The shield wavered and weakened on impact. Max didn’t have time to assess this new found power before the shield failed, and left him defenseless. Rath came to a stop in front of him, grabbing his hair and jerking his head backwards.
“What do you want?” Max gasped, coughing up blood, holding his arm against his damaged ribs.
“You,” Rath snorted, laughing in his face.
Lonnie pulled the Jetta to a stop beside them. “Put him in the back.”
Rough hands were the last thing Max was consciously aware of, dragging him across the road and then lifting him up like a rag doll. He landed on the back seat, wincing in pain, before sinking into the dark depths of oblivion.
TBC . . .
Last edited by Breathless on Sat Jan 03, 2004 12:08 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Breathless
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Aftermath Part 44
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 44
Liz slowly rose up from sleep, struggling to escape her dark and terrifying dreams. She bolted awake with a cry on her lips, chased by some lingering nightmare into her waking world, a monster that couldn’t be held at bay.
“No!” she cried out, bolting up in bed. Near panic seized her as she wildly peered into the shadows that filled her bedroom, certain that the monster had followed her.
“Hey,” a deep voice sounded behind her, soft and melodic. “Are you okay?”
Liz whirled around with a gasp, grabbing at the blankets.
“Liz? What’s wrong?” he sat up fully, showing her his face.
“Max.”
Even in the dark she could see his chiseled features, the straight lines of his nose, the familiar curve of his jaw, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. His short hair stuck out in places, tousled from sleep.
“Liz, what is it?” his voice grew heavy with concern.
“I . . .” she clutched the blanket to her chest, unable to escape the fear that seized her.
“Did you have another bad dream?” Max stroked his thumb over her cheek, a gesture that normally relaxed her.
“Dream?” she croaked out, chilled to the bone.
“You’ve been having bad dreams all night,” he spoke gently, leaning toward her to brush his lips against her forehead. “You wanna tell me about it?”
A sense of déjà vu filled her, almost drowning her. In a panic she pushed him away.
“Liz?”
“Where did you get that?” She pointed a trembling hand at the heart shaped tattoo on his bare chest.
“I put it there,” he frowned, touching it with his fingertips. “A little while ago. Before we went to sleep.”
“No . . . this isn’t right . . .”
Liz looked around wildly at her familiar bedroom, sensing something wrong, but everything looked . . . normal.
“C’mere,” Max wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to the bed. “Tell me about the dream.”
She lay stiffly at his side, trying to focus her mind. The groggy remnants of sleep still lingered, making her mind feel fuzzy and unfocused. His hand stroked through her hair, helping to soothe her tension.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said, breathing deeply. His scent filled her senses, alluring and familiar. His warmth helped chase off the chill. When he kissed her forehead she leaned into his lips, melting into him.
“Start at the beginning,” his soft voice urged. He shifted position, moving his lips down her cheek, past her chin, nestling into her throat. His breath against her skin made her burn inside. His hand on her throat held her down. “Think back to the beginning,” he urged. “Show me how we met.”
Her muddled mind thought the request odd, but she followed his instructions. His voice sounded so hypnotic, how could she refuse? She opened her mind, showing him what he wanted to see.
The interior of the Crashdown. A small boy with melancholy eyes sitting in a booth with his family. A young girl playing waitress next to her father, pretending to write their order on an order pad.
“More,” he said, kissing her shoulder, hooking his fingers under the strap of her bra. “Show me how we really met.”
She knew what he wanted. She heard the deeper meaning echoing inside her head. His hand touched her stomach, just below her ribs, sending a shiver right through her. His mind filled with her memories of the now familiar scene.
A gunshot. A flash of pain. His body hovering above hers with a mixture of agony and ecstasy on his face. His hand covered with her blood. Stumbling away from her. His frightened face looking back at her from the doorway.
“And then . . .” he urged, gently pushing at her mind. His lips moved up the column of her throat, to her mouth, smothering her lips with his own. ‘More. Show me more.’
The Crashdown. Empty. At night. She lets him in, frightened, but drawn to him.
“Did you, like, read my mind or something?!”
“No! I – I don’t read minds! When I healed you, I made this – this – I don’t know, this connection. And I got this rush of images –”
His deepening kiss demanded her attention. His tongue forced its way between her lips. His knee pushed between her legs. ‘More. Give me more. Show me what I wanna see.’
“I had to know if – if what I saw was really from you, or if it was just my imagination, which . . . it definitely – definitely could’ve been. Except . . . I’ve never been in the girls locker room. And now that I see it, and . . . well, it – it is the same room . . . I know I didn’t make it up.”
“This is really horrible.”
“No, Liz, it’s incredible.”
“This is not incredible.”
“Wait. Please. Listen. Please? The main thing is . . . I didn’t just see what you saw. I felt – what you felt – when you saw me. And I never thought anyone could really ever feel that way about me.”
Zan tore his lips away from Liz to stare down into her face. Is that what it felt like to be – in love? The awkward uncertainty? The constriction in his chest just talking to her? The rumble in his stomach just looking at her? And Liz, there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him. Unconditionally. Even then.
Despite knowing what he was.
Because of what he was.
“Show me all of it,” Zan demanded. “Show me everything.”
His lips crashed down against hers again, sinking deeper into her thoughts. He couldn’t stop until he knew it all.
White walls. Torture. Pain. So much pain.
Escape. Flight. A kiss on a bridge. A leap of faith.
Wet. Cold. So cold. Trembling from the cold.
“I wish I could go back, Liz. Back to when things were normal.”
“Me too. I just wish that I could have stopped you from saving my life that day in the Crashdown.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Max, the day that you saved my life, your life just . . . ended.”
“No. That was the day my life began. Liz, when I was in that room, and they did – what they did to me – you’re what kept me alive. The thought of you. The way your eyes look into mine. Your smile. The touch of your skin. Your lips.
“Knowing you has made me – human. Whether I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my destiny is the same. It’s you. I wanna be with you, Liz. I love you.”
Zan pulled away from the intensity of the memory flash, tearing his lips away from Liz. He now knew Max Evans’ biggest weakness . . . but . . . was it his weakness as well?
Would her eyes look at him the way they were looking at him right now if he wasn’t controlling her mind? Would her lips kiss his with this much passion? Would her hands claw at his back like this if she knew who he really was?
Her hand touched the waistband of his jeans at the same instant his concentration wavered, breaking her out of her mental fog. Suddenly, something about Max felt . . . off.
She looked up at him and asked, “When did you get dressed?”
“Dressed?” he arched an eyebrow.
“Your pants. You weren’t wearing pants when we fell asleep. We made love in the bathroom and then you carried me out here and we made love again. Your pants were still on the bathroom floor.”
“I put ‘em on after you fell asleep, in case I had to leave quickly,” Zan said as cover. “I’ll take ‘em off.”
His hand grabbed at the button and tore the zipper open, giving him some much needed room.
“Wait,” Liz pushed at his chest, touching his heart shaped tattoo. A flash suddenly filled her mind, of a swirling alien design, and the long haired man that owned it. She pushed Zan off her and scrambled off the bed, putting distance between them. She lifted the strap of her bra back onto her shoulder, and then paused, realizing what she’d just done.
But . . . she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Or panties. They’d fallen asleep, naked in each other’s arms. Or at least they had on the night this really happened.
Zan turned on the bedside lamp. “Liz? What’s wrong?”
Her mind cleared of the last vestiges of his control, seeing things more clearly now. Other inconsistencies surfaced. “This is all a lie . . .”
“Liz. It’s me. Max. Come sit down,” he held his arms out for her to join him on the bed, wanting her to come willingly. “C’mere.”
“No . . .”
Zan forced his anger back. Nobody told him ‘No’. Not even her.
“You’re not Max,” Liz pointed a shaking finger at him. “This isn’t my room!”
“Liz, don’t be ridic –”
“NO!” she looked down at his chest, seeing the evidence painted there. “You are NOT Max!”
“Liz,” he said in a placating tone, like he was talking to a child. “Come back to bed –”
“All the proof I need is right there!” she pointed at his chest. If she touched him again, she knew what she’d see.
Zan looked down at the heart shaped tattoo on his chest, the exact tattoo he’d seen in her memory flashes. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same heart Max tattooed on his chest, like a brand for Liz to witness.
“What are you talk–” Zan started to say but Liz cut him off.
“Your tattoo doesn’t look like that at all! Yours is a swirling design, of the galaxy you came from.”
Zan felt a chill shoot through him. How could she know that? How could she know things about him? She made him feel uncertain, and uncertainty made him feel weak, and weakness made him angry. And things weren’t pretty when Zan felt angry.
“That’s enough!” Zan growled, tearing the blankets away and rising from the bed. If she didn’t want it the easy way, then he’d give it to her the hard way.
“You aren’t Max!” Liz shouted, backing away from him as he neared her. “You might look like him, and you might sound like him, but you can never be him!”
Zan towered over her, using his physical presence to try to frighten her. He dropped all pretenses. “I can fuck you anytime –”
Liz slapped him hard, across the face. So hard the echo of it careened around the room.
Defiantly, she stared up at him and declared, “Max would never speak to me that way. Never! You’re nothing but an imposter, substandard and second-rate!”
When his eyes flared she knew she’d gone too far. She didn’t know all his buttons yet, but she knew she’d just pushed too many. She was in big trouble now.
* * * * *
“Hey guys,” Alex sauntered into the backroom of the diner. “How’s it goin’? Did you find . . .” He stopped in the middle of the room, taking in the long faces and stressed body language of his friends. “What’s wrong? Why’s everyone looking like their best friend just died?” He pointed at his arm, saying, “Just broken, guys. I’m still alive –”
“It’s Liz,” Isabel said from the couch.
“Liz?” Alex’s eyes went wide, jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“She’s missing,” Maria hurried to tell him. “They’ve got her.”
“They?”
“Long story,” Kyle groused. “You can’t take the morning off around here. The alien abyss never stops turning.”
“Sit down, Alex,” Maria led him over to the couch like a mother hen.
“I’m gonna go get Max,” Michael said, moving toward the back door. He’d given his friend enough time to pull himself back together.
He pushed through the door into the alley while the others filled Alex in on the latest events. As Michael stepped outside he had to grudgingly admit Kyle was right. The alien abyss did keep swallowing them whole. Would they ever come out on top? But how could they? They were in the dark almost all the time. How were a bunch of teenagers who didn’t know a damn thing supposed to save the world?
“Max?” Michael called out, looking left, and then right, certain that he wouldn’t have gone too far. Not with Liz’s life at stake. “MAX! Come on!”
The alley stayed eerily silent.
A bad feeling began to gnaw at Michael’s gut, the alien abyss crowding in on him again. He searched the alley carefully and then went around to the front of the restaurant where he noticed the jeep still occupied the same space where Max had parked it earlier, when they came back from inspecting Alex’s crash. It hadn’t been moved since.
“MAX!” he called out again, for once not caring that he was drawing attention to himself. People turned to stare at him, then went on their way. Starting to frown, Michael walked around to the back again, to check the alley one more time. Upon closer examination, he noticed a few discarded candy wrappers left carelessly on the ground and he bent over to pick one up, noticing it was the same type of mint the Crashdown handed out. Except, these mints were from the Tumbleweed Motel.
Clutching the wrapper in his hand, Michael scanned the alley once more, before going back inside the restaurant.
“Where’s Max?” Isabel rose to her feet when she saw Michael. The look on his face made her stomach twist.
Michael let out a worried breath and said, “I don’t know. He’s not there.”
“Where’d you get that?” Ava asked, slowly rising to her feet with her eyes fixed on the wrapper Michael still held clutched in his hand.
“Out – out in the alley,” Michael hitched his thumb toward the back door. Why was she so freaked? It was just a goddamn candy wrapper.
“Rath,” her frightened eyes slowly lifted to Michael’s. “Rath and Lonnie. They’ve got Max.”
* * * * *
“I wish he’d make up his fuckin’ mind,” Rath grumbled, dumping Max’s unconscious body on the floor of the control room. “One minute we’re only supposed ta watch him, and the next he says ta bring him here. Zan ain’t never been like this befor’, changin’ his mind and actin’ all crazy and shit.”
He scowled at Max’s inert body, and then kicked him in the ribs, deriving great pleasure out of the act.
“What’re we supposed ta do with him now? Put him in a nice padded cell?”
Lonnie pushed past Rath’s smirking face. “Let’s find Zan first.”
She moved to a bank of monitors, each one focused on a different area of the facility. She tapped her long red fingernail against one of them and smiled, “It looks like he’s having some fun.”
* * * * *
Zan backhanded Liz across the face, sending her to her knees. No one raised a hand to him and lived to tell about it. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back up, ready to hit her again. No one called him substandard or second-rate and lived to say another word. He could make her tongue disappear. He could seal her mouth closed so she could never speak again. He could –
Liz lifted her head, looking up at him through the strands of disheveled hair that covered her face. She slowly wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood that trickled there.
Zan stood frozen in place, cornered by her tear-filled eyes. His rage turned into something else, making him feel things he didn’t like to feel. His stomach churned in an unfamiliar fashion. The tempo of his heart rate changed, skipping beats in direct proportion to his deepening guilt. His lungs heaved, but not from exertion. When he spoke, his voice came out broken.
“Liz . . .”
The taste of blood in her mouth was forgotten as she looked into his eyes. The kind of eyes that gave away emotion. Like windows to his soul. Like Max’s eyes. For a brief moment she could see him there, before a door slammed closed and the coldness returned.
Zan turned his back to her, struggling to control his breathing. He shot his hand out, sending a bolt of power toward the bed, making it burst into flame before turning in on itself, consuming it like a black hole. A flick of his hand made the dresser fly across the room, turning to dust as it hit the far wall. Another wild fling of his hand made the desk and the curtains ignite. Fire swept up the wall and then flamed out.
Without a word Zan stormed across the room. He threw the door open with a flick of his wrist, pausing long enough to slam his left hand against the wall on his way out. The stark white spread out from his palm, spreading up and over the walls, the ceiling, covering the window. Liz collapsed down onto the floor, once more captive in an empty world of white.
“Zan,” she called out softly, wrapping her arms around her shivering body.
Zan stopped in the doorway, standing like a statue with his back to her.
“I’m cold.”
His hand lifted to the door, gripping the edge almost hard enough to crush the metal it was made of. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with each harsh breath he struggled with, then he stepped out into the hall and slammed the door closed behind him.
TBC . . .
Author note: Due to my hectic work schedule, the next update will probably be in 2 weeks. Sorry to leave you all hanging that long, but at the stage we’re at in the story right now, there is no easy place to leave off.
Second Author note: For those of you looking for the final chapters of Maxeo and Lizziet, which were apparently lost in the recent purge, I've reposted them over on the award thread. You can find it here (if I'm doing this right!):
Maxeo and Lizziet
And here's the links to:
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Thanks mareli and Kara for the coding help!!
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 44
Liz slowly rose up from sleep, struggling to escape her dark and terrifying dreams. She bolted awake with a cry on her lips, chased by some lingering nightmare into her waking world, a monster that couldn’t be held at bay.
“No!” she cried out, bolting up in bed. Near panic seized her as she wildly peered into the shadows that filled her bedroom, certain that the monster had followed her.
“Hey,” a deep voice sounded behind her, soft and melodic. “Are you okay?”
Liz whirled around with a gasp, grabbing at the blankets.
“Liz? What’s wrong?” he sat up fully, showing her his face.
“Max.”
Even in the dark she could see his chiseled features, the straight lines of his nose, the familiar curve of his jaw, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. His short hair stuck out in places, tousled from sleep.
“Liz, what is it?” his voice grew heavy with concern.
“I . . .” she clutched the blanket to her chest, unable to escape the fear that seized her.
“Did you have another bad dream?” Max stroked his thumb over her cheek, a gesture that normally relaxed her.
“Dream?” she croaked out, chilled to the bone.
“You’ve been having bad dreams all night,” he spoke gently, leaning toward her to brush his lips against her forehead. “You wanna tell me about it?”
A sense of déjà vu filled her, almost drowning her. In a panic she pushed him away.
“Liz?”
“Where did you get that?” She pointed a trembling hand at the heart shaped tattoo on his bare chest.
“I put it there,” he frowned, touching it with his fingertips. “A little while ago. Before we went to sleep.”
“No . . . this isn’t right . . .”
Liz looked around wildly at her familiar bedroom, sensing something wrong, but everything looked . . . normal.
“C’mere,” Max wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to the bed. “Tell me about the dream.”
She lay stiffly at his side, trying to focus her mind. The groggy remnants of sleep still lingered, making her mind feel fuzzy and unfocused. His hand stroked through her hair, helping to soothe her tension.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said, breathing deeply. His scent filled her senses, alluring and familiar. His warmth helped chase off the chill. When he kissed her forehead she leaned into his lips, melting into him.
“Start at the beginning,” his soft voice urged. He shifted position, moving his lips down her cheek, past her chin, nestling into her throat. His breath against her skin made her burn inside. His hand on her throat held her down. “Think back to the beginning,” he urged. “Show me how we met.”
Her muddled mind thought the request odd, but she followed his instructions. His voice sounded so hypnotic, how could she refuse? She opened her mind, showing him what he wanted to see.
The interior of the Crashdown. A small boy with melancholy eyes sitting in a booth with his family. A young girl playing waitress next to her father, pretending to write their order on an order pad.
“More,” he said, kissing her shoulder, hooking his fingers under the strap of her bra. “Show me how we really met.”
She knew what he wanted. She heard the deeper meaning echoing inside her head. His hand touched her stomach, just below her ribs, sending a shiver right through her. His mind filled with her memories of the now familiar scene.
A gunshot. A flash of pain. His body hovering above hers with a mixture of agony and ecstasy on his face. His hand covered with her blood. Stumbling away from her. His frightened face looking back at her from the doorway.
“And then . . .” he urged, gently pushing at her mind. His lips moved up the column of her throat, to her mouth, smothering her lips with his own. ‘More. Show me more.’
The Crashdown. Empty. At night. She lets him in, frightened, but drawn to him.
“Did you, like, read my mind or something?!”
“No! I – I don’t read minds! When I healed you, I made this – this – I don’t know, this connection. And I got this rush of images –”
His deepening kiss demanded her attention. His tongue forced its way between her lips. His knee pushed between her legs. ‘More. Give me more. Show me what I wanna see.’
“I had to know if – if what I saw was really from you, or if it was just my imagination, which . . . it definitely – definitely could’ve been. Except . . . I’ve never been in the girls locker room. And now that I see it, and . . . well, it – it is the same room . . . I know I didn’t make it up.”
“This is really horrible.”
“No, Liz, it’s incredible.”
“This is not incredible.”
“Wait. Please. Listen. Please? The main thing is . . . I didn’t just see what you saw. I felt – what you felt – when you saw me. And I never thought anyone could really ever feel that way about me.”
Zan tore his lips away from Liz to stare down into her face. Is that what it felt like to be – in love? The awkward uncertainty? The constriction in his chest just talking to her? The rumble in his stomach just looking at her? And Liz, there was no doubt in his mind that she loved him. Unconditionally. Even then.
Despite knowing what he was.
Because of what he was.
“Show me all of it,” Zan demanded. “Show me everything.”
His lips crashed down against hers again, sinking deeper into her thoughts. He couldn’t stop until he knew it all.
White walls. Torture. Pain. So much pain.
Escape. Flight. A kiss on a bridge. A leap of faith.
Wet. Cold. So cold. Trembling from the cold.
“I wish I could go back, Liz. Back to when things were normal.”
“Me too. I just wish that I could have stopped you from saving my life that day in the Crashdown.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Max, the day that you saved my life, your life just . . . ended.”
“No. That was the day my life began. Liz, when I was in that room, and they did – what they did to me – you’re what kept me alive. The thought of you. The way your eyes look into mine. Your smile. The touch of your skin. Your lips.
“Knowing you has made me – human. Whether I die tomorrow or fifty years from now, my destiny is the same. It’s you. I wanna be with you, Liz. I love you.”
Zan pulled away from the intensity of the memory flash, tearing his lips away from Liz. He now knew Max Evans’ biggest weakness . . . but . . . was it his weakness as well?
Would her eyes look at him the way they were looking at him right now if he wasn’t controlling her mind? Would her lips kiss his with this much passion? Would her hands claw at his back like this if she knew who he really was?
Her hand touched the waistband of his jeans at the same instant his concentration wavered, breaking her out of her mental fog. Suddenly, something about Max felt . . . off.
She looked up at him and asked, “When did you get dressed?”
“Dressed?” he arched an eyebrow.
“Your pants. You weren’t wearing pants when we fell asleep. We made love in the bathroom and then you carried me out here and we made love again. Your pants were still on the bathroom floor.”
“I put ‘em on after you fell asleep, in case I had to leave quickly,” Zan said as cover. “I’ll take ‘em off.”
His hand grabbed at the button and tore the zipper open, giving him some much needed room.
“Wait,” Liz pushed at his chest, touching his heart shaped tattoo. A flash suddenly filled her mind, of a swirling alien design, and the long haired man that owned it. She pushed Zan off her and scrambled off the bed, putting distance between them. She lifted the strap of her bra back onto her shoulder, and then paused, realizing what she’d just done.
But . . . she hadn’t been wearing a bra. Or panties. They’d fallen asleep, naked in each other’s arms. Or at least they had on the night this really happened.
Zan turned on the bedside lamp. “Liz? What’s wrong?”
Her mind cleared of the last vestiges of his control, seeing things more clearly now. Other inconsistencies surfaced. “This is all a lie . . .”
“Liz. It’s me. Max. Come sit down,” he held his arms out for her to join him on the bed, wanting her to come willingly. “C’mere.”
“No . . .”
Zan forced his anger back. Nobody told him ‘No’. Not even her.
“You’re not Max,” Liz pointed a shaking finger at him. “This isn’t my room!”
“Liz, don’t be ridic –”
“NO!” she looked down at his chest, seeing the evidence painted there. “You are NOT Max!”
“Liz,” he said in a placating tone, like he was talking to a child. “Come back to bed –”
“All the proof I need is right there!” she pointed at his chest. If she touched him again, she knew what she’d see.
Zan looked down at the heart shaped tattoo on his chest, the exact tattoo he’d seen in her memory flashes. There was no doubt in his mind it was the same heart Max tattooed on his chest, like a brand for Liz to witness.
“What are you talk–” Zan started to say but Liz cut him off.
“Your tattoo doesn’t look like that at all! Yours is a swirling design, of the galaxy you came from.”
Zan felt a chill shoot through him. How could she know that? How could she know things about him? She made him feel uncertain, and uncertainty made him feel weak, and weakness made him angry. And things weren’t pretty when Zan felt angry.
“That’s enough!” Zan growled, tearing the blankets away and rising from the bed. If she didn’t want it the easy way, then he’d give it to her the hard way.
“You aren’t Max!” Liz shouted, backing away from him as he neared her. “You might look like him, and you might sound like him, but you can never be him!”
Zan towered over her, using his physical presence to try to frighten her. He dropped all pretenses. “I can fuck you anytime –”
Liz slapped him hard, across the face. So hard the echo of it careened around the room.
Defiantly, she stared up at him and declared, “Max would never speak to me that way. Never! You’re nothing but an imposter, substandard and second-rate!”
When his eyes flared she knew she’d gone too far. She didn’t know all his buttons yet, but she knew she’d just pushed too many. She was in big trouble now.
* * * * *
“Hey guys,” Alex sauntered into the backroom of the diner. “How’s it goin’? Did you find . . .” He stopped in the middle of the room, taking in the long faces and stressed body language of his friends. “What’s wrong? Why’s everyone looking like their best friend just died?” He pointed at his arm, saying, “Just broken, guys. I’m still alive –”
“It’s Liz,” Isabel said from the couch.
“Liz?” Alex’s eyes went wide, jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“She’s missing,” Maria hurried to tell him. “They’ve got her.”
“They?”
“Long story,” Kyle groused. “You can’t take the morning off around here. The alien abyss never stops turning.”
“Sit down, Alex,” Maria led him over to the couch like a mother hen.
“I’m gonna go get Max,” Michael said, moving toward the back door. He’d given his friend enough time to pull himself back together.
He pushed through the door into the alley while the others filled Alex in on the latest events. As Michael stepped outside he had to grudgingly admit Kyle was right. The alien abyss did keep swallowing them whole. Would they ever come out on top? But how could they? They were in the dark almost all the time. How were a bunch of teenagers who didn’t know a damn thing supposed to save the world?
“Max?” Michael called out, looking left, and then right, certain that he wouldn’t have gone too far. Not with Liz’s life at stake. “MAX! Come on!”
The alley stayed eerily silent.
A bad feeling began to gnaw at Michael’s gut, the alien abyss crowding in on him again. He searched the alley carefully and then went around to the front of the restaurant where he noticed the jeep still occupied the same space where Max had parked it earlier, when they came back from inspecting Alex’s crash. It hadn’t been moved since.
“MAX!” he called out again, for once not caring that he was drawing attention to himself. People turned to stare at him, then went on their way. Starting to frown, Michael walked around to the back again, to check the alley one more time. Upon closer examination, he noticed a few discarded candy wrappers left carelessly on the ground and he bent over to pick one up, noticing it was the same type of mint the Crashdown handed out. Except, these mints were from the Tumbleweed Motel.
Clutching the wrapper in his hand, Michael scanned the alley once more, before going back inside the restaurant.
“Where’s Max?” Isabel rose to her feet when she saw Michael. The look on his face made her stomach twist.
Michael let out a worried breath and said, “I don’t know. He’s not there.”
“Where’d you get that?” Ava asked, slowly rising to her feet with her eyes fixed on the wrapper Michael still held clutched in his hand.
“Out – out in the alley,” Michael hitched his thumb toward the back door. Why was she so freaked? It was just a goddamn candy wrapper.
“Rath,” her frightened eyes slowly lifted to Michael’s. “Rath and Lonnie. They’ve got Max.”
* * * * *
“I wish he’d make up his fuckin’ mind,” Rath grumbled, dumping Max’s unconscious body on the floor of the control room. “One minute we’re only supposed ta watch him, and the next he says ta bring him here. Zan ain’t never been like this befor’, changin’ his mind and actin’ all crazy and shit.”
He scowled at Max’s inert body, and then kicked him in the ribs, deriving great pleasure out of the act.
“What’re we supposed ta do with him now? Put him in a nice padded cell?”
Lonnie pushed past Rath’s smirking face. “Let’s find Zan first.”
She moved to a bank of monitors, each one focused on a different area of the facility. She tapped her long red fingernail against one of them and smiled, “It looks like he’s having some fun.”
* * * * *
Zan backhanded Liz across the face, sending her to her knees. No one raised a hand to him and lived to tell about it. He grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back up, ready to hit her again. No one called him substandard or second-rate and lived to say another word. He could make her tongue disappear. He could seal her mouth closed so she could never speak again. He could –
Liz lifted her head, looking up at him through the strands of disheveled hair that covered her face. She slowly wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood that trickled there.
Zan stood frozen in place, cornered by her tear-filled eyes. His rage turned into something else, making him feel things he didn’t like to feel. His stomach churned in an unfamiliar fashion. The tempo of his heart rate changed, skipping beats in direct proportion to his deepening guilt. His lungs heaved, but not from exertion. When he spoke, his voice came out broken.
“Liz . . .”
The taste of blood in her mouth was forgotten as she looked into his eyes. The kind of eyes that gave away emotion. Like windows to his soul. Like Max’s eyes. For a brief moment she could see him there, before a door slammed closed and the coldness returned.
Zan turned his back to her, struggling to control his breathing. He shot his hand out, sending a bolt of power toward the bed, making it burst into flame before turning in on itself, consuming it like a black hole. A flick of his hand made the dresser fly across the room, turning to dust as it hit the far wall. Another wild fling of his hand made the desk and the curtains ignite. Fire swept up the wall and then flamed out.
Without a word Zan stormed across the room. He threw the door open with a flick of his wrist, pausing long enough to slam his left hand against the wall on his way out. The stark white spread out from his palm, spreading up and over the walls, the ceiling, covering the window. Liz collapsed down onto the floor, once more captive in an empty world of white.
“Zan,” she called out softly, wrapping her arms around her shivering body.
Zan stopped in the doorway, standing like a statue with his back to her.
“I’m cold.”
His hand lifted to the door, gripping the edge almost hard enough to crush the metal it was made of. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with each harsh breath he struggled with, then he stepped out into the hall and slammed the door closed behind him.
TBC . . .
Author note: Due to my hectic work schedule, the next update will probably be in 2 weeks. Sorry to leave you all hanging that long, but at the stage we’re at in the story right now, there is no easy place to leave off.
Second Author note: For those of you looking for the final chapters of Maxeo and Lizziet, which were apparently lost in the recent purge, I've reposted them over on the award thread. You can find it here (if I'm doing this right!):
Maxeo and Lizziet
And here's the links to:
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Thanks mareli and Kara for the coding help!!
Last edited by Breathless on Sun Jan 04, 2004 4:42 pm, edited 8 times in total.
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Aftermath Part 45
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Author note: Thanks for your patience, everyone. I know it’s been a couple weeks since I updated, so here’s a little recap of where we left off . . .
Those alien bad asses Lonnie and Rath did some really horrible things to our poor Max, leaving him all bloodied and bruised – and unconscious.
Zan tried to convince Liz he was Max, but that didn’t work out too well for him. Liz saw through his disguise, which really pissed him off. Disturbed him, too. Put him off kilter. When he hit her, his reaction to it was totally unexpected, and caused a mini meltdown.
Michael and the gang caught a clue and now realize Lonnie and Rath have Max, but the question is where did they take him?
From Part 44 . . .
Without a word Zan stormed across the room. He threw the door open with a flick of his wrist, pausing long enough to slam his left hand against the wall on his way out. The stark white spread out from his palm, spreading up and over the walls, the ceiling, covering the window. Liz collapsed down onto the floor, once more captive in an empty world of white.
“Zan,” she called out softly, wrapping her arms around her shivering body.
Zan stopped in the doorway, standing like a statue with his back to her.
“I’m cold.”
His hand lifted to the door, gripping the edge almost hard enough to crush the metal it was made of. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with each harsh breath he struggled with, then he stepped out into the hall and slammed the door closed behind him.
Aftermath
Part 45
Tess walked cautiously across the control room, keeping a wary eye on her ‘fearless leader’. She’d had issues with Max’s leadership abilities from the moment she arrived in Roswell, but now, after what she’d been through, what she wouldn’t give to live under his benevolent rule again. If she’d known then what she knew now, she would have eagerly settled for Max’s friendship, but it was too late for that now. Her sins were coming back to haunt her.
Zan stood stiffly in front of the view panel, bare chested, staring at the girl on the other side. Staring at Liz. His jaw clenched repeatedly, showing the level of his agitation, with his hands fisted at his sides.
Tess approached him trying not to make a sound. If she interrupted him, he might hurt her for disturbing him. But if she didn’t give him what he requested, he might hurt her for making him wait. There was no way to know which infraction would be worse.
Seeing the way his attention remained riveted on Liz inside the White Room made Tess shudder, knowing what it meant. There was a time when she thought she hated Liz for blinding Max to his destiny, but Tess only had sympathy for her now. She wouldn’t wish Zan on anyone. Knowing she dared not wait any longer, she forced herself to move forward.
“You wanted this?” Tess approached the viewing panel, holding out a shirt for him, one that he had ordered her to get. When he didn’t move, when his harsh gaze remained fixed on the girl on the other side of that panel, she backed up, deciding it would be better to just set the shirt down and leave before he noticed her.
Before she could take a step back, his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He yanked Tess close, finally tearing his eyes away from Liz to look at her.
“Get her something to wear,” his hot breath drifted over Tess’s face. “Don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.”
“Y – you,” she stuttered, feeling his eyes burning into hers. “You want me to . . .?”
“Go,” he growled, pushing her harshly toward the door. He grabbed the shirt as she stumbled back, then turned away from her once again, slipping it on as he stared through the viewing panel.
Tess stumbled out into the hallway, rubbing her bruised arm. She thought briefly about running away, after all, Zan seemed completely oblivious to anything except Liz now, it might be her only chance, but when she neared the door that led to freedom, the pain began to flare inside her head. He’d done something to her; put something in her head, and every time she tried to leave it brought her excruciating pain.
Dutifully, she went to the supply closet and retrieved a pair of scrubs, following Zan’s instructions.
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, as much to shield her exposure as to try to keep warm, though she knew the chill that stabbed through her wasn’t caused by the cold.
Unless you counted the cold eyes she could feel staring at her, from somewhere beyond those white panels. Watching her every move. She knew it. She sensed it. She felt it. The only thing she didn’t know was why? Why had he brought her here? Why had he put her in this room? Why hadn’t he killed her yet?
Why, for that brief moment in time, had he looked so much like Max?
* * * * *
Lonnie waltzed into the control room, watching Zan closely to gauge his current mood. It was easy to see how she’d given him the name Cujo over the years. He was a mad dog, just waiting for an excuse to explode.
“Did you get him?” Zan asked without taking his eyes off the viewing panel.
“Yeah,” Lonnie smirked. “We got him. He put up a bit of a fight, but he’ll live.”
Zan turned his cold gaze on Lonnie, making her squirm. “Why’d he fight?”
“He knew who we were,” Lonnie admitted. “He called Rath by name.”
Zan let that sink in, trying to determine what it meant. Had Max Evans always known about them? Or had Ava become compromised and spilled her guts? He’d soon find out, no matter what it took to get the answers.
“Where is he?”
Lonnie activated one of the security panels showing Max’s bruised and battered unconscious body sprawled on the floor of a white padded cell. Sarcastically, she sneered, “We made him nice and comfortable, waiting your instructions.”
“Get a gurney out of the med lab,” Zan ordered. “Take it to his room and strap him down.”
The easy way or the hard way, it didn’t matter to Zan. He wanted answers, and Max Evans was gonna give ‘em to him.
Lonnie reached into a pocket of her cargo pants, pulling out the silver orb. The design in the middle pulsated in a rainbow of colors. She held it out to Zan, saying, “Incoming message. High priority.”
Zan eyed the glowing orb, then dismissed it. “Just put it down.”
Lonnie’s mouth fell open in surprise when he turned his back to it and returned his attention to the view panel. Zan had never ignored an incoming message before. He was usually eager to get a new assignment, to focus on a new target. Why hadn’t he killed this girl yet, and gotten it over with already?
“You ain’t gonna activate it?”
Zan turned from the window, locking his hard gaze on Lonnie. Her challenge to his authority was unacceptable. He moved with deadly grace across the floor again, until he was standing toe to toe with her. His hand shot into her hair, fisting around the dark curls, pulling hard, yanking her head back to expose her throat.
“I’ll listen to it when I’m fuckin’ ready to listen to it,” Zan growled in her face. “Got it? Or do I need to be more explicit?”
“I got it,” Lonnie closed her eyes, holding in a cry of pain. She played the part of submissive underling, biding her time.
“That’s better,” Zan loosened his grip, sending a brief surge of healing power into her scalp to ease the pain. He took the orb out of her hand and turned her around, steering her toward the door. “Now go take care of the boy. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When Lonnie was gone Zan looked at the orb in his hand, weighing his options. The swirling patterns indicated the message was high priority, but he wasn’t ready for any interference here. This wasn’t just an ordinary assignment, and Liz Parker wasn’t just an ordinary target. She knew things that a human shouldn’t know. He sensed things inside her that shouldn’t be there. Things that a certain half-breed alien might be able to tell him about.
Zan put the orb down on a filing cabinet and left the room, headed for a little heart to heart with his alter ego. Zan wanted some answers, and Max Evans was going to give them to him, one way or another.
* * * * *
Liz heard the click of the doorknob turning and shot upwards, determined to face her executioner standing on her own two feet. She pressed her back against the wall, hands flat against the panels, eyes glued to the door as it slowly opened. When she saw who entered the room she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She should have known.
“Tess,” Liz said with contempt dripping from her tongue.
Tess kept her head lowered as she closed the door. She wasn’t supposed to look at Liz, or talk to her, or god forbid, get close enough to touch her. She glanced up, almost losing her composure when she saw the angry red mark on Liz’s cheek. Apparently, Liz wasn’t taking her imprisonment lying down. She glanced at the white wall where she was sure Zan was still watching, then lowered her head again and crossed the room to give Liz the clothes, as instructed.
“So was this the plan?” Liz stood stiffly in just her panties and bra, tense with rage. She felt the energy sparking in her hands and hid them behind her back. “Play nice and then show your true colors?”
Liz remembered back to the spring, when Tess first came to town, and the night Ed Harding forced her to eat dinner at their house. Tess had played the part of the ‘poor little new girl in town’ to a T, but she couldn’t hide the coldness in her ice blue eyes. Even then, Liz knew there was something not right about her –
When Tess looked up again the silent tirade died in Liz’s mind. Those blue eyes weren’t cold anymore. They were red and swollen and bruised and held a level of torment that couldn’t be faked. Having experienced it herself, Liz could easily guess who Tess’s tormenter was.
“Tess?” Liz said, softer this time.
“He won’t let me talk to you,” Tess whispered fast, keeping her head down. She held out the clothes for Liz to take. “Take them. Please. Before he gets mad.”
Liz glanced over at the far wall, the one she’d felt him hiding behind, but she couldn’t feel him now. She looked back at Tess, whispering, “He’s not watching.”
Tess’s head shot up, startled past her fear. “How . . .?”
“I can’t feel him now,” Liz told her.
“You can . . .?” Tess let the question hang, not sure how to ask it. When Liz nodded, Tess lifted her hand to touch Liz’s cheek, her eyes filling with sympathetic tears.
“Did he . . .?”
“Yeah,” Liz nodded, lifting her hand to touch the dark bruise forming on Tess’s arm. “You too?”
“Liz!” Tess grabbed Liz’s hand, trying to shield it from sight. Green sparks flickered under the skin.
Liz shrugged, offering a slight smile. “Apparently, Max made me a little green around the gills.”
“Don’t let him know!” Tess clutched at her hand, darting a quick look at the wall behind them. “Hide it. Don’t let him see.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Liz glanced over at the far wall again. “I think he can get inside my mind. He – Max is no match for him. He’s so strong, and Max has spent his whole life trying to hide what he is. He hasn’t developed his powers, not like Zan.” Just saying his name made a chill go down her spine.
“I might be able to help you,” Tess offered. “That is . . . if you trust me.”
Liz stared at Tess, internally debating the $64,000 question. Could she trust Tess? She’d never trusted her before, and Tess hadn’t presented any certifiable reason why she should start trusting her now. Except . . . there was something she saw in those blue eyes that had never been there before. Something that told Liz Tess had finally learned that life was important. Human life. Alien life. All life. No matter where it came from.
“How?” Liz asked, putting her life in her archenemy’s hands.
* * * * *
Zan sat with his arms folded over the back of a wooden chair and his chin resting on his hands, staring into the face of his mirror image. Max Evans lay on the gurney, eyes closed, secured by more than just earthly restraints. His eyelids fluttered, on the verge of consciousness, fighting to return to the world. Zan patiently waited.
The boy was a mess, no doubt about that, with blood streaking through the dirt on his face, and his shirt in tatters. Zan reached out and touched Max’s forehead, healing the cut. He left his hand there, pushing with his mind to make a connection, but in his unconscious state, the boy’s thoughts were hidden from him.
Zan moved his hand lower, hovering it just over the boy’s face, then his throat, then his chest before coming to a stop, sensing the damage inside. Broken ribs. Ruptured spleen. A lung dangerously close to collapsing. Nothing immediately life threatening, but definitely debilitating. Obviously, Zan smiled, Lonnie and Rath had had a little fun with him.
“What secrets do you hide?” Zan asked. His smile slowly faded, deciding it wouldn’t be good to let the boy die before he learned those secrets. He let his hand linger, hovering in the air, building up the power it would take to heal the injuries. When his hand dropped down to touch Max’s chest, Zan got another flash, an echo of the not too distant past . . .
White light, shining in his eyes.
The glint of steel, piercing his skin.
White hot pain, from sternum to navel.
A cry of agony. A whisper of despair.
Only one name to cling to, to save his sanity.
Zan lifted his hand from Max’s chest, saying aloud the name that echoed between them. The name that bound them together. The name that formed their connection.
“Liz.”
* * * * *
Rath closed his eyes, concentrating on the orb in his hand, willing it to tell its secrets. The pulsating light flashed between his fingers, mocking his attempt, reminding him of all his past efforts, all wasted. The orb wouldn’t recognize him as leader.
Anger burned inside him, resentment that had built up over the years of being cowed by Zan. He hurled the orb across the control room, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction when it impacted one of the security monitors and shattered the screen into pieces.
“I told ya,” Lonnie grumbled, showing her irritation. She stomped across the room to retrieve the orb and dropped it on the desk in front of him, its unearthly metal not even scratched. “It ain’t gonna recognize you as long as Zan’s still alive. Besides, what makes ya think you’re next in line? ”
“I’m second in command!” Rath shot back.
“Oh, get off that kick!” Lonnie sneered at him. “You’re good at what you do, but you ain’t no Einstein. Bein’ the leader takes brains, and yours are in short supply –”
Rath bolted to his feet, seething with anger. He held out his hand, ready to blast her across the room. “I’ve HAD it with you talkin’ to me like that!”
His outburst took her by surprise, but she adjusted quickly, turning on the charm to placate him.
“Hey, Baby, you know I don’t mean nothin’ by it,” she ran her hand up his muscular arm, soothing his ruffled feathers. “’Sides, new leader ain’t our decision anyway. When Zan’s gone, they’ll decide who gets to be new leader,” she said, pointing upward.
“Yeah,” Rath grumbled, distracted by her wandering hand. “But I’m still second.”
“O’ course you are,” Lonnie stroked his ego. She couldn’t have Rath go berserk on her, too. It was enough dealing with Zan right now. He was acting strange¸ becoming more and more unpredictable, and an unpredictable Zan was even more dangerous than normal.
They’d have to choose their time carefully.
* * * * *
Max slowly returned to consciousness, moaning as he tried to turn his head, feeling a heaviness throughout his body. He attempted to lift his hand to rub away the sleep from his eyes, but his arm wouldn’t move. Neither would his legs. He fought to lift his heavy eyelids, but the effort was enormous.
He swallowed down his parched throat, tasting the coppery residue of blood. With it, a memory swept to the surface, crashing over him with a start –
Jumping from a moving car. A Michael look-alike stalking him. A blast knocking him off his feet. On his knees, at the mercy of a nightmare from hell.
Max popped his eyes open, only to fall headlong into another nightmare. A pair of amber colored eyes stared right back at him, like an image from a mirror maze, an identical reflection to test his sanity.
“So you’re finally awake,” his doppelganger sat up, lifting his chin from his hands. “I was becoming restless.”
“Who are you?” Max croaked out through his dry lips. He tried to sit up but a constriction around his chest kept him in place. A quick look confirmed the straps holding him down, bringing recent nightmares back to life. The white walls closed in around him.
“I’m your savior,” Zan grinned. “I’m here to set your world right. And then you’ll do the same for mine.”
“Savior?” Max whispered. Did his duplicate think he was God? He winced at a sudden presence trying to burrow into his subconscious, like a leech burrowing into his brain. He fought against it, trying to hold it back.
Zan lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected such strong resistance. He knew Max should possess all the abilities he himself had, but according to the information he’d coerced out of Tess, the Roswell group’s lack of training had left their powers sorely inadequate. Or so Tess said. He’d have to punish her if he found out she was lying. He rose to his feet, moving the chair out of the way, appearing deceptively calm.
“We’re the same, you and I,” Zan said, walking in a slow circle around the gurney.
Max tracked his double’s movements using only his eyes, keeping his inner thoughts hidden. He wasn’t anything like Zan. Zan was a monster. An alien killing machine. Without remorse or regret.
“We were both created from the same DNA. Split from the same cells. We came from the same pod sack, identical,” Zan leaned over and touched Max’s upper lip, “right down to the freckle.”
Max jerked his head away, not wanting Zan to touch him.
“It’s true,” Zan continued circling the table. “You’re my double, same fingers, same toes.” He leaned close to Max’s ear and whispered, “Same heart shaped tattoo on our chests.”
Zan straightened with a smirk on his face, while the blood drained from Max’s, grasping the implication of what Zan meant.
“Nice touch,” Zan drove it home. “Did it make her wet when you seared her name into your flesh?”
A growl of rage tore from Max’s throat. Blinding red rage. Fury and fear battled for dominance, fury that Zan had Liz, fear of what he’d done to her.
“WHERE IS SHE?” Max fought against his restraints. “WHERE IS SHE!”
“Close,” Zan continued to slowly circle Max, like a wolf circling its prey. “Very close. If you’re good, and cooperate, I might even let you see her.”
“If you touched her, I swear to God I’ll –”
“You’ll what?” Zan smirked. “Turn into a killer – like me? So we’re not so different after all?”
Max stared at Zan with his jaw clenching. He had to be smarter than this. He couldn’t fall into his traps by letting Zan feed into his emotions, taunting him and coercing gut level responses. If he did, Zan would win, and their lives would be over.
“What do you want from me?” Max asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Answers,” Zan pulled the chair close to the bed again, straddling it backwards. His arms draped over the backrest, giving him a relaxed and confident air. “I want answers.”
“What kind of answers?” Max asked, to keep him talking.
Zan reached under the chair and came up with a familiar metal object. He turned the book to face Max, showing him the swirling design embossed on the cover. “Do you know what this is?”
“Where’d you get that?” Max narrowed his eyes, staring at the book. The last person he’d seen in possession of it was Alex. When he went to Las Cruces. Before he . . . died.
“Do you know how to read it?” Zan asked, leafing through the pages.
“You did it,” Max’s breathing turned harsh. Labored. “You caused Alex’s accident. Why? He never did anything to you!”
Zan slowly lifted his eyes, piercing Max with his penetrating gaze, cold amber chilling Max to the bone. The tone of his voice made Max shiver.
“It served its purpose.”
Max struggled not to react, to remain as deadly calm as Zan, but he couldn’t hide his humanity. His face contorted; horrified by the monster he was looking at.
Zan ignored the look, lowering his gaze back to the symbols carved in the metal pages. He continued his dialogue, unaffected by Alex’s fate.
“Tess calls this your ‘Destiny’ book. I guess that’s a good enough name.”
Max fought to control his breathing, forcing back the memory of Alex’s broken and bloodied body. He concentrated on what Zan was saying, and what it might mean. Did Zan know how to read it? Did Tess? Had she been playing him all this time?
“Tess told me you don’t remember anything,” Zan said smoothly. “I didn’t believe her. I punished her for lying, but now that I see you, I know that she was telling the truth. You don’t know anything. I bet you don’t even know about your name.”
“My . . . name . . .?”
A memory flash hit Max, something he hadn’t thought about in years. Of himself as a young boy in the orphanage, sitting at an oversized table writing letters on a drawing tablet with an indigo blue crayon, each stroke bold and straight.
M . . . A . . . X.
MAX.
Mike. Alpha. X-Ray.
Name, rank, and serial number.
“No,” Max whispered.
“Yes,” Zan smiled.
TBC . . .
Author note: Real life continues to be hectic, allowing me less time than normal to write. I like to post on a schedule, like a regular weekly installment of the show, but since I don’t earn a living at this, my REAL job comes first. IF the next part is ready in time, I’ll post it next weekend, otherwise, look for it in 2 weeks.
One more item. I love your feedback, just like all the other writers out there. Your comments keep me inspired, and keep me writing. Without you, I might have given up Roswell a long time ago. But – this Board has size problems, and “bumps” are a part of that problem. I appreciate the friendly bump on posting day to help me find the thread, but keep in mind excessive bumps add to the volume of the board.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Author note: Thanks for your patience, everyone. I know it’s been a couple weeks since I updated, so here’s a little recap of where we left off . . .
Those alien bad asses Lonnie and Rath did some really horrible things to our poor Max, leaving him all bloodied and bruised – and unconscious.
Zan tried to convince Liz he was Max, but that didn’t work out too well for him. Liz saw through his disguise, which really pissed him off. Disturbed him, too. Put him off kilter. When he hit her, his reaction to it was totally unexpected, and caused a mini meltdown.
Michael and the gang caught a clue and now realize Lonnie and Rath have Max, but the question is where did they take him?
From Part 44 . . .
Without a word Zan stormed across the room. He threw the door open with a flick of his wrist, pausing long enough to slam his left hand against the wall on his way out. The stark white spread out from his palm, spreading up and over the walls, the ceiling, covering the window. Liz collapsed down onto the floor, once more captive in an empty world of white.
“Zan,” she called out softly, wrapping her arms around her shivering body.
Zan stopped in the doorway, standing like a statue with his back to her.
“I’m cold.”
His hand lifted to the door, gripping the edge almost hard enough to crush the metal it was made of. She could see his shoulders rise and fall with each harsh breath he struggled with, then he stepped out into the hall and slammed the door closed behind him.
Aftermath
Part 45
Tess walked cautiously across the control room, keeping a wary eye on her ‘fearless leader’. She’d had issues with Max’s leadership abilities from the moment she arrived in Roswell, but now, after what she’d been through, what she wouldn’t give to live under his benevolent rule again. If she’d known then what she knew now, she would have eagerly settled for Max’s friendship, but it was too late for that now. Her sins were coming back to haunt her.
Zan stood stiffly in front of the view panel, bare chested, staring at the girl on the other side. Staring at Liz. His jaw clenched repeatedly, showing the level of his agitation, with his hands fisted at his sides.
Tess approached him trying not to make a sound. If she interrupted him, he might hurt her for disturbing him. But if she didn’t give him what he requested, he might hurt her for making him wait. There was no way to know which infraction would be worse.
Seeing the way his attention remained riveted on Liz inside the White Room made Tess shudder, knowing what it meant. There was a time when she thought she hated Liz for blinding Max to his destiny, but Tess only had sympathy for her now. She wouldn’t wish Zan on anyone. Knowing she dared not wait any longer, she forced herself to move forward.
“You wanted this?” Tess approached the viewing panel, holding out a shirt for him, one that he had ordered her to get. When he didn’t move, when his harsh gaze remained fixed on the girl on the other side of that panel, she backed up, deciding it would be better to just set the shirt down and leave before he noticed her.
Before she could take a step back, his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. He yanked Tess close, finally tearing his eyes away from Liz to look at her.
“Get her something to wear,” his hot breath drifted over Tess’s face. “Don’t touch her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her.”
“Y – you,” she stuttered, feeling his eyes burning into hers. “You want me to . . .?”
“Go,” he growled, pushing her harshly toward the door. He grabbed the shirt as she stumbled back, then turned away from her once again, slipping it on as he stared through the viewing panel.
Tess stumbled out into the hallway, rubbing her bruised arm. She thought briefly about running away, after all, Zan seemed completely oblivious to anything except Liz now, it might be her only chance, but when she neared the door that led to freedom, the pain began to flare inside her head. He’d done something to her; put something in her head, and every time she tried to leave it brought her excruciating pain.
Dutifully, she went to the supply closet and retrieved a pair of scrubs, following Zan’s instructions.
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, as much to shield her exposure as to try to keep warm, though she knew the chill that stabbed through her wasn’t caused by the cold.
Unless you counted the cold eyes she could feel staring at her, from somewhere beyond those white panels. Watching her every move. She knew it. She sensed it. She felt it. The only thing she didn’t know was why? Why had he brought her here? Why had he put her in this room? Why hadn’t he killed her yet?
Why, for that brief moment in time, had he looked so much like Max?
* * * * *
Lonnie waltzed into the control room, watching Zan closely to gauge his current mood. It was easy to see how she’d given him the name Cujo over the years. He was a mad dog, just waiting for an excuse to explode.
“Did you get him?” Zan asked without taking his eyes off the viewing panel.
“Yeah,” Lonnie smirked. “We got him. He put up a bit of a fight, but he’ll live.”
Zan turned his cold gaze on Lonnie, making her squirm. “Why’d he fight?”
“He knew who we were,” Lonnie admitted. “He called Rath by name.”
Zan let that sink in, trying to determine what it meant. Had Max Evans always known about them? Or had Ava become compromised and spilled her guts? He’d soon find out, no matter what it took to get the answers.
“Where is he?”
Lonnie activated one of the security panels showing Max’s bruised and battered unconscious body sprawled on the floor of a white padded cell. Sarcastically, she sneered, “We made him nice and comfortable, waiting your instructions.”
“Get a gurney out of the med lab,” Zan ordered. “Take it to his room and strap him down.”
The easy way or the hard way, it didn’t matter to Zan. He wanted answers, and Max Evans was gonna give ‘em to him.
Lonnie reached into a pocket of her cargo pants, pulling out the silver orb. The design in the middle pulsated in a rainbow of colors. She held it out to Zan, saying, “Incoming message. High priority.”
Zan eyed the glowing orb, then dismissed it. “Just put it down.”
Lonnie’s mouth fell open in surprise when he turned his back to it and returned his attention to the view panel. Zan had never ignored an incoming message before. He was usually eager to get a new assignment, to focus on a new target. Why hadn’t he killed this girl yet, and gotten it over with already?
“You ain’t gonna activate it?”
Zan turned from the window, locking his hard gaze on Lonnie. Her challenge to his authority was unacceptable. He moved with deadly grace across the floor again, until he was standing toe to toe with her. His hand shot into her hair, fisting around the dark curls, pulling hard, yanking her head back to expose her throat.
“I’ll listen to it when I’m fuckin’ ready to listen to it,” Zan growled in her face. “Got it? Or do I need to be more explicit?”
“I got it,” Lonnie closed her eyes, holding in a cry of pain. She played the part of submissive underling, biding her time.
“That’s better,” Zan loosened his grip, sending a brief surge of healing power into her scalp to ease the pain. He took the orb out of her hand and turned her around, steering her toward the door. “Now go take care of the boy. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When Lonnie was gone Zan looked at the orb in his hand, weighing his options. The swirling patterns indicated the message was high priority, but he wasn’t ready for any interference here. This wasn’t just an ordinary assignment, and Liz Parker wasn’t just an ordinary target. She knew things that a human shouldn’t know. He sensed things inside her that shouldn’t be there. Things that a certain half-breed alien might be able to tell him about.
Zan put the orb down on a filing cabinet and left the room, headed for a little heart to heart with his alter ego. Zan wanted some answers, and Max Evans was going to give them to him, one way or another.
* * * * *
Liz heard the click of the doorknob turning and shot upwards, determined to face her executioner standing on her own two feet. She pressed her back against the wall, hands flat against the panels, eyes glued to the door as it slowly opened. When she saw who entered the room she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She should have known.
“Tess,” Liz said with contempt dripping from her tongue.
Tess kept her head lowered as she closed the door. She wasn’t supposed to look at Liz, or talk to her, or god forbid, get close enough to touch her. She glanced up, almost losing her composure when she saw the angry red mark on Liz’s cheek. Apparently, Liz wasn’t taking her imprisonment lying down. She glanced at the white wall where she was sure Zan was still watching, then lowered her head again and crossed the room to give Liz the clothes, as instructed.
“So was this the plan?” Liz stood stiffly in just her panties and bra, tense with rage. She felt the energy sparking in her hands and hid them behind her back. “Play nice and then show your true colors?”
Liz remembered back to the spring, when Tess first came to town, and the night Ed Harding forced her to eat dinner at their house. Tess had played the part of the ‘poor little new girl in town’ to a T, but she couldn’t hide the coldness in her ice blue eyes. Even then, Liz knew there was something not right about her –
When Tess looked up again the silent tirade died in Liz’s mind. Those blue eyes weren’t cold anymore. They were red and swollen and bruised and held a level of torment that couldn’t be faked. Having experienced it herself, Liz could easily guess who Tess’s tormenter was.
“Tess?” Liz said, softer this time.
“He won’t let me talk to you,” Tess whispered fast, keeping her head down. She held out the clothes for Liz to take. “Take them. Please. Before he gets mad.”
Liz glanced over at the far wall, the one she’d felt him hiding behind, but she couldn’t feel him now. She looked back at Tess, whispering, “He’s not watching.”
Tess’s head shot up, startled past her fear. “How . . .?”
“I can’t feel him now,” Liz told her.
“You can . . .?” Tess let the question hang, not sure how to ask it. When Liz nodded, Tess lifted her hand to touch Liz’s cheek, her eyes filling with sympathetic tears.
“Did he . . .?”
“Yeah,” Liz nodded, lifting her hand to touch the dark bruise forming on Tess’s arm. “You too?”
“Liz!” Tess grabbed Liz’s hand, trying to shield it from sight. Green sparks flickered under the skin.
Liz shrugged, offering a slight smile. “Apparently, Max made me a little green around the gills.”
“Don’t let him know!” Tess clutched at her hand, darting a quick look at the wall behind them. “Hide it. Don’t let him see.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Liz glanced over at the far wall again. “I think he can get inside my mind. He – Max is no match for him. He’s so strong, and Max has spent his whole life trying to hide what he is. He hasn’t developed his powers, not like Zan.” Just saying his name made a chill go down her spine.
“I might be able to help you,” Tess offered. “That is . . . if you trust me.”
Liz stared at Tess, internally debating the $64,000 question. Could she trust Tess? She’d never trusted her before, and Tess hadn’t presented any certifiable reason why she should start trusting her now. Except . . . there was something she saw in those blue eyes that had never been there before. Something that told Liz Tess had finally learned that life was important. Human life. Alien life. All life. No matter where it came from.
“How?” Liz asked, putting her life in her archenemy’s hands.
* * * * *
Zan sat with his arms folded over the back of a wooden chair and his chin resting on his hands, staring into the face of his mirror image. Max Evans lay on the gurney, eyes closed, secured by more than just earthly restraints. His eyelids fluttered, on the verge of consciousness, fighting to return to the world. Zan patiently waited.
The boy was a mess, no doubt about that, with blood streaking through the dirt on his face, and his shirt in tatters. Zan reached out and touched Max’s forehead, healing the cut. He left his hand there, pushing with his mind to make a connection, but in his unconscious state, the boy’s thoughts were hidden from him.
Zan moved his hand lower, hovering it just over the boy’s face, then his throat, then his chest before coming to a stop, sensing the damage inside. Broken ribs. Ruptured spleen. A lung dangerously close to collapsing. Nothing immediately life threatening, but definitely debilitating. Obviously, Zan smiled, Lonnie and Rath had had a little fun with him.
“What secrets do you hide?” Zan asked. His smile slowly faded, deciding it wouldn’t be good to let the boy die before he learned those secrets. He let his hand linger, hovering in the air, building up the power it would take to heal the injuries. When his hand dropped down to touch Max’s chest, Zan got another flash, an echo of the not too distant past . . .
White light, shining in his eyes.
The glint of steel, piercing his skin.
White hot pain, from sternum to navel.
A cry of agony. A whisper of despair.
Only one name to cling to, to save his sanity.
Zan lifted his hand from Max’s chest, saying aloud the name that echoed between them. The name that bound them together. The name that formed their connection.
“Liz.”
* * * * *
Rath closed his eyes, concentrating on the orb in his hand, willing it to tell its secrets. The pulsating light flashed between his fingers, mocking his attempt, reminding him of all his past efforts, all wasted. The orb wouldn’t recognize him as leader.
Anger burned inside him, resentment that had built up over the years of being cowed by Zan. He hurled the orb across the control room, feeling an immense sense of satisfaction when it impacted one of the security monitors and shattered the screen into pieces.
“I told ya,” Lonnie grumbled, showing her irritation. She stomped across the room to retrieve the orb and dropped it on the desk in front of him, its unearthly metal not even scratched. “It ain’t gonna recognize you as long as Zan’s still alive. Besides, what makes ya think you’re next in line? ”
“I’m second in command!” Rath shot back.
“Oh, get off that kick!” Lonnie sneered at him. “You’re good at what you do, but you ain’t no Einstein. Bein’ the leader takes brains, and yours are in short supply –”
Rath bolted to his feet, seething with anger. He held out his hand, ready to blast her across the room. “I’ve HAD it with you talkin’ to me like that!”
His outburst took her by surprise, but she adjusted quickly, turning on the charm to placate him.
“Hey, Baby, you know I don’t mean nothin’ by it,” she ran her hand up his muscular arm, soothing his ruffled feathers. “’Sides, new leader ain’t our decision anyway. When Zan’s gone, they’ll decide who gets to be new leader,” she said, pointing upward.
“Yeah,” Rath grumbled, distracted by her wandering hand. “But I’m still second.”
“O’ course you are,” Lonnie stroked his ego. She couldn’t have Rath go berserk on her, too. It was enough dealing with Zan right now. He was acting strange¸ becoming more and more unpredictable, and an unpredictable Zan was even more dangerous than normal.
They’d have to choose their time carefully.
* * * * *
Max slowly returned to consciousness, moaning as he tried to turn his head, feeling a heaviness throughout his body. He attempted to lift his hand to rub away the sleep from his eyes, but his arm wouldn’t move. Neither would his legs. He fought to lift his heavy eyelids, but the effort was enormous.
He swallowed down his parched throat, tasting the coppery residue of blood. With it, a memory swept to the surface, crashing over him with a start –
Jumping from a moving car. A Michael look-alike stalking him. A blast knocking him off his feet. On his knees, at the mercy of a nightmare from hell.
Max popped his eyes open, only to fall headlong into another nightmare. A pair of amber colored eyes stared right back at him, like an image from a mirror maze, an identical reflection to test his sanity.
“So you’re finally awake,” his doppelganger sat up, lifting his chin from his hands. “I was becoming restless.”
“Who are you?” Max croaked out through his dry lips. He tried to sit up but a constriction around his chest kept him in place. A quick look confirmed the straps holding him down, bringing recent nightmares back to life. The white walls closed in around him.
“I’m your savior,” Zan grinned. “I’m here to set your world right. And then you’ll do the same for mine.”
“Savior?” Max whispered. Did his duplicate think he was God? He winced at a sudden presence trying to burrow into his subconscious, like a leech burrowing into his brain. He fought against it, trying to hold it back.
Zan lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn’t expected such strong resistance. He knew Max should possess all the abilities he himself had, but according to the information he’d coerced out of Tess, the Roswell group’s lack of training had left their powers sorely inadequate. Or so Tess said. He’d have to punish her if he found out she was lying. He rose to his feet, moving the chair out of the way, appearing deceptively calm.
“We’re the same, you and I,” Zan said, walking in a slow circle around the gurney.
Max tracked his double’s movements using only his eyes, keeping his inner thoughts hidden. He wasn’t anything like Zan. Zan was a monster. An alien killing machine. Without remorse or regret.
“We were both created from the same DNA. Split from the same cells. We came from the same pod sack, identical,” Zan leaned over and touched Max’s upper lip, “right down to the freckle.”
Max jerked his head away, not wanting Zan to touch him.
“It’s true,” Zan continued circling the table. “You’re my double, same fingers, same toes.” He leaned close to Max’s ear and whispered, “Same heart shaped tattoo on our chests.”
Zan straightened with a smirk on his face, while the blood drained from Max’s, grasping the implication of what Zan meant.
“Nice touch,” Zan drove it home. “Did it make her wet when you seared her name into your flesh?”
A growl of rage tore from Max’s throat. Blinding red rage. Fury and fear battled for dominance, fury that Zan had Liz, fear of what he’d done to her.
“WHERE IS SHE?” Max fought against his restraints. “WHERE IS SHE!”
“Close,” Zan continued to slowly circle Max, like a wolf circling its prey. “Very close. If you’re good, and cooperate, I might even let you see her.”
“If you touched her, I swear to God I’ll –”
“You’ll what?” Zan smirked. “Turn into a killer – like me? So we’re not so different after all?”
Max stared at Zan with his jaw clenching. He had to be smarter than this. He couldn’t fall into his traps by letting Zan feed into his emotions, taunting him and coercing gut level responses. If he did, Zan would win, and their lives would be over.
“What do you want from me?” Max asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Answers,” Zan pulled the chair close to the bed again, straddling it backwards. His arms draped over the backrest, giving him a relaxed and confident air. “I want answers.”
“What kind of answers?” Max asked, to keep him talking.
Zan reached under the chair and came up with a familiar metal object. He turned the book to face Max, showing him the swirling design embossed on the cover. “Do you know what this is?”
“Where’d you get that?” Max narrowed his eyes, staring at the book. The last person he’d seen in possession of it was Alex. When he went to Las Cruces. Before he . . . died.
“Do you know how to read it?” Zan asked, leafing through the pages.
“You did it,” Max’s breathing turned harsh. Labored. “You caused Alex’s accident. Why? He never did anything to you!”
Zan slowly lifted his eyes, piercing Max with his penetrating gaze, cold amber chilling Max to the bone. The tone of his voice made Max shiver.
“It served its purpose.”
Max struggled not to react, to remain as deadly calm as Zan, but he couldn’t hide his humanity. His face contorted; horrified by the monster he was looking at.
Zan ignored the look, lowering his gaze back to the symbols carved in the metal pages. He continued his dialogue, unaffected by Alex’s fate.
“Tess calls this your ‘Destiny’ book. I guess that’s a good enough name.”
Max fought to control his breathing, forcing back the memory of Alex’s broken and bloodied body. He concentrated on what Zan was saying, and what it might mean. Did Zan know how to read it? Did Tess? Had she been playing him all this time?
“Tess told me you don’t remember anything,” Zan said smoothly. “I didn’t believe her. I punished her for lying, but now that I see you, I know that she was telling the truth. You don’t know anything. I bet you don’t even know about your name.”
“My . . . name . . .?”
A memory flash hit Max, something he hadn’t thought about in years. Of himself as a young boy in the orphanage, sitting at an oversized table writing letters on a drawing tablet with an indigo blue crayon, each stroke bold and straight.
M . . . A . . . X.
MAX.
Mike. Alpha. X-Ray.
Name, rank, and serial number.
“No,” Max whispered.
“Yes,” Zan smiled.
TBC . . .
Author note: Real life continues to be hectic, allowing me less time than normal to write. I like to post on a schedule, like a regular weekly installment of the show, but since I don’t earn a living at this, my REAL job comes first. IF the next part is ready in time, I’ll post it next weekend, otherwise, look for it in 2 weeks.
One more item. I love your feedback, just like all the other writers out there. Your comments keep me inspired, and keep me writing. Without you, I might have given up Roswell a long time ago. But – this Board has size problems, and “bumps” are a part of that problem. I appreciate the friendly bump on posting day to help me find the thread, but keep in mind excessive bumps add to the volume of the board.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Aftermath Part 46
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 46
Michael crouched behind the dumpster watching for any sign of movement coming from room 21 of the Tumbleweed Motel. He winced uncomfortably, feeling the first twinges of a cramp forming in his thigh, warning him to shift position soon, or suffer the consequences. He stretched out his leg, trying to get some blood circulating again. An elbow suddenly slamming into his side made him wince in a whole new way.
“Don’t move!”
“What was that for?!” Michael growled at Maria, crouching on the ground beside him.
“What if they see you?” Maria whispered harshly.
“We’ve been hidin’ behind this trash pile for over an hour!” Michael’s irritation grew. “And we haven’t seen a goddamn thing! I bet the damn room is empty!”
“Michael, hush!” Isabel scolded. She was tired of waiting, too, but Michael’s grumbling wasn’t helping.
“No, I think he’s right,” Ava tried to quiet them, but she didn’t know the group dynamic that well.
“Right?” Maria blurted out. “Michael’s never right!”
“I resent that!” Michael shot back.
“Stop fighting!” Isabel hissed, resisting the temptation to gag them both. They were acting like children while Max’s life might be at stake.
“I should go in,” Ava decided. “If they ask me what I’m doing here, I’ll just tell them I’m reporting in. If I see Max, I’ll get a signal to you.”
“I’m going with you,” Michael insisted, pushing up to his full height.
“No,” Ava shook her head. “That’s not –”
“It’s not open for discussion,” Michael stared down at the small blonde.
“Okay,” Ava capitulated. “But stay out of sight until I’m in the room and see who’s there. I’ll signal you from the window if it’s okay for you to come in. Let’s go.”
“Michael,” Maria caught his hand as he started to follow Ava. “Don’t be a hero. Don’t . . .” her voice trailed off.
“I won’t,” he stared back at her, squeezing her hand.
* * * * *
Max stared up at the ceiling wishing he could block out what he was hearing. He’d always wanted to know the truth about himself, as much as Michael had, but he’d never imagined the truth could be something as horrible as this.
“Your designation is MAX. Backup unit to ZAN. Me,” Zan pointed at his own chest. “Your compliment is four. Tess, your Tactical Engineer and Surveillance Specialist, Isabel; Intelligence/Strategic Analysis/Bio-warfare/Espionage and Linguistics. I imagine she’s multi-tasking,” he smirked. “She was engineered that way. And then there’s Michael,” Zan paused, shaking his head. “Your Michael must be as dense as my Rath. Your second has his own designation, yet he goes by yours.”
Michael. Mike. As in Mike Alpha X-Ray. No. Max didn’t want to believe it. None of it. It couldn’t be.
“I don’t believe you.”
Zan looked down at Max, strapped to the gurney. His defiance didn’t alter the facts. “It’s true. You know it’s true.”
“No, it’s not,” Max refuted it. “I’m not like you.”
“You are, and you know it,” Zan’s lips curved upwards. “You almost completed the mission once already. Remember?”
“No,” Max whispered with the blood draining out of his face. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t really happening. He wasn’t a cold blooded killer . . . was he?
* * * * *
Ava hesitated outside the door of room 21, afraid of what she would find inside. Would Zan be there? Lonnie or Rath? The latter two rarely went anywhere without each other, unless it was under Zan’s orders.
While it was true that she was afraid of Zan, in some ways her fear of Lonnie and Rath went even deeper. Zan might have used, and even abused her over the years, but he had protected her as well. Lonnie and Rath would have killed her years ago if they’d been in charge.
There’d been a time once, in the beginning, when Zan hadn’t been so cold. He’d even let her have a kitten once, a scrawny little thing she’d found living in the sewers. She’d brought it back to the rat hole they called home, and he let her keep it. He said he liked the way it made her smile. But then the time came to move on, and Lonnie snapped its neck while Rath forced her to watch.
Zan yelled at her for crying over a mangy cat, but later that night, she’d heard the screams echoing in the tunnels. Zan made Rath and Lonnie pay for making her cry.
“Ava!” Michael hissed from around the corner, trying to keep it down to a loud whisper. “What are you doing?”
The sound of Michael’s voice jerked her back from her memories, reminding her of where she was, and why. Her hand tightened on the door knob, feeling her stomach clench as she pushed it open, and stepped into the motel room.
* * * * *
Zan sat in the chair turning the metal pages of the Destiny book, letting his fingers trace over the alien symbols. His eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched, knowing he was missing something. Something that might make sense out of all this. He lifted the book showing Max the cover, ordering, “Tell me what you know about this.”
“You tell me,” Max countered. He was at a disadvantage, being the one strapped down and unable to move, but he wasn’t going to give away anything if he could help it.
“Yours looks like a primer,” Zan told him, leafing through the pages again. He turned the book showing Max the page with his fully grown image carved in the metal.
“See? Boy,” Zan pointed at Max’s image. “That’d be you.” His finger moved to the female image standing beside Max. “Girl. She looks like Tess.” His finger moved again, dropping lower to touch the female’s swollen abdomen. “Baby. Oh, how cute. It’s a sex manual. I guess they didn’t think you could figure it out on your own.”
Max clenched his jaw, knowing Zan was trying to bait him, but he refused to bite.
“My Mission book looks the same on the outside,” Zan continued, flipping back to the front of the book. But the inside was different. Very different. He wanted to know why.
“Do you know where you’re from?” Zan asked, changing tactics. His penetrating eyes turned from the book to meet Max’s, forcing him to answer.
“No.”
“You – we – came from a planet called Antar. Do you remember it?”
Max shook his head slightly. Would Zan be able to tell him the secrets of his past? Could he believe anything Zan had to say?
“Antar was weak,” Zan’s lips turned downward in a sneer, sending a chill through Max. “When the Skins came, they barely offered any resistance. Antar was a society of scientists, without an army to protect them. The Skins enslaved the planet within days. Hours, really. We control Antar now.”
“We?” Max questioned. ‘We’ as in ‘Skins’? “You just said ‘we’ came from Antar.”
“True. But I owe my allegiance to the Skins.”
“Why?” Max asked, growing bolder.
“Antarian scientists might have created me, but the Skins gave me purpose. Us,” Zan said, correcting himself. “They gave us purpose.”
“No, not ‘us’,” Max said, refuting it. “I owe nothing to the ‘Skins’. I’m part human. I side with them.”
“Humans are weak. They might have more fight in ‘em, but Earth will fall, just like Antar did. They can’t stand up to us.”
“Not US! I’m not one of YOU!”
“Yes, you are,” Zan rose to his feet, towering over Max. “And I can prove it to you.”
* * * * *
Michael inched forward, straining to hear what was happening in the motel room, but only silence reached him. When a figure appeared in the doorway he was so on edge he almost lunged for it, until he saw who it was. Ava waved him forward, and then disappeared back inside.
He turned around and motioned for Isabel and Maria to stay put, but they were already bearing down on him.
“What are you doing?!” Michael demanded in a harsh whisper.
“Ava waved us to come –” Maria started but Michael cut her off.
“She waved me to join her!” Michael growled. “Not you! You’re supposed to stay back there where it’s safe!”
“Safe? SAFE?” Maria’s voice rose an octave.
“Stop fighting!” Isabel hissed, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them.
Ava stood in the motel room doorway, shaking her head back and forth. How had they survived all this time? They were practically walking around with neon flashing signs on their foreheads blazing ‘Alien here – Come and get me!’
“If Rath or Lonnie were here,” Ava spoke loudly, drawing their attention, “You’d all be dead by now.”
Silence filled the air as Ava’s statement sank in. Michael looked chagrined, Maria horrified, and Isabel just plain scared. None of them were even remotely capable of taking on a band of murdering aliens.
“If you want to live, you better come with me,” Ava motioned for them to join her in the room.
Kyle turned to Alex and whispered from their hiding place behind a large white van. “She sounds just like the Terminator! I’m sticking with her!”
“Kyle!” Alex watched him rise to his feet and jog over to Ava. Moments later the five of them filed into the motel room, leaving Alex alone outside. He looked around at the deserted parking lot, feeling over-exposed, an easy target. He tucked his broken arm close to his chest and hurried after the others. There was safety in numbers, or at least he hoped there was.
* * * * *
Zan loomed over Max, pressing the palm of his hand against the boy’s forehead. Max fought to block his probing mind, but Zan wasn’t trying to see inside him this time. No, this time Zan was sending.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship?” Zan asked. “How we got here?”
Hurtling through space. Flying past a red giant.
“Why we were sent here?” Zan continued.
Plummeting to Earth. Soldiers in uniform running through the desert.
“What our Mission was? Is?”
“No,” Max struggled, trying to escape Zan’s control. “No!”
“No?” Zan pushed harder. “Liz saw it inside you, didn’t she? She told you about the crash. She led you to your orb. She unlocked the memories that were hidden inside of you. Why? Why her? Why is she so important to you?”
To us.
“STOP!” Max cried out, reeling from the pain inside his head. The force of Max’s mental resistance caused Zan to stagger back.
“Why?” Zan stared at Max. “Why did you save Liz Parker’s life?”
The answer came unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside Max, uttered before he was even consciously aware of the words he was saying. Though it didn’t alter the truth of them, or lessen their impact.
Four simple little words that held such deeper meaning, spoken without any hesitation.
“It was my Destiny.”
TBC . . .
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 46
Michael crouched behind the dumpster watching for any sign of movement coming from room 21 of the Tumbleweed Motel. He winced uncomfortably, feeling the first twinges of a cramp forming in his thigh, warning him to shift position soon, or suffer the consequences. He stretched out his leg, trying to get some blood circulating again. An elbow suddenly slamming into his side made him wince in a whole new way.
“Don’t move!”
“What was that for?!” Michael growled at Maria, crouching on the ground beside him.
“What if they see you?” Maria whispered harshly.
“We’ve been hidin’ behind this trash pile for over an hour!” Michael’s irritation grew. “And we haven’t seen a goddamn thing! I bet the damn room is empty!”
“Michael, hush!” Isabel scolded. She was tired of waiting, too, but Michael’s grumbling wasn’t helping.
“No, I think he’s right,” Ava tried to quiet them, but she didn’t know the group dynamic that well.
“Right?” Maria blurted out. “Michael’s never right!”
“I resent that!” Michael shot back.
“Stop fighting!” Isabel hissed, resisting the temptation to gag them both. They were acting like children while Max’s life might be at stake.
“I should go in,” Ava decided. “If they ask me what I’m doing here, I’ll just tell them I’m reporting in. If I see Max, I’ll get a signal to you.”
“I’m going with you,” Michael insisted, pushing up to his full height.
“No,” Ava shook her head. “That’s not –”
“It’s not open for discussion,” Michael stared down at the small blonde.
“Okay,” Ava capitulated. “But stay out of sight until I’m in the room and see who’s there. I’ll signal you from the window if it’s okay for you to come in. Let’s go.”
“Michael,” Maria caught his hand as he started to follow Ava. “Don’t be a hero. Don’t . . .” her voice trailed off.
“I won’t,” he stared back at her, squeezing her hand.
* * * * *
Max stared up at the ceiling wishing he could block out what he was hearing. He’d always wanted to know the truth about himself, as much as Michael had, but he’d never imagined the truth could be something as horrible as this.
“Your designation is MAX. Backup unit to ZAN. Me,” Zan pointed at his own chest. “Your compliment is four. Tess, your Tactical Engineer and Surveillance Specialist, Isabel; Intelligence/Strategic Analysis/Bio-warfare/Espionage and Linguistics. I imagine she’s multi-tasking,” he smirked. “She was engineered that way. And then there’s Michael,” Zan paused, shaking his head. “Your Michael must be as dense as my Rath. Your second has his own designation, yet he goes by yours.”
Michael. Mike. As in Mike Alpha X-Ray. No. Max didn’t want to believe it. None of it. It couldn’t be.
“I don’t believe you.”
Zan looked down at Max, strapped to the gurney. His defiance didn’t alter the facts. “It’s true. You know it’s true.”
“No, it’s not,” Max refuted it. “I’m not like you.”
“You are, and you know it,” Zan’s lips curved upwards. “You almost completed the mission once already. Remember?”
“No,” Max whispered with the blood draining out of his face. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t really happening. He wasn’t a cold blooded killer . . . was he?
* * * * *
Ava hesitated outside the door of room 21, afraid of what she would find inside. Would Zan be there? Lonnie or Rath? The latter two rarely went anywhere without each other, unless it was under Zan’s orders.
While it was true that she was afraid of Zan, in some ways her fear of Lonnie and Rath went even deeper. Zan might have used, and even abused her over the years, but he had protected her as well. Lonnie and Rath would have killed her years ago if they’d been in charge.
There’d been a time once, in the beginning, when Zan hadn’t been so cold. He’d even let her have a kitten once, a scrawny little thing she’d found living in the sewers. She’d brought it back to the rat hole they called home, and he let her keep it. He said he liked the way it made her smile. But then the time came to move on, and Lonnie snapped its neck while Rath forced her to watch.
Zan yelled at her for crying over a mangy cat, but later that night, she’d heard the screams echoing in the tunnels. Zan made Rath and Lonnie pay for making her cry.
“Ava!” Michael hissed from around the corner, trying to keep it down to a loud whisper. “What are you doing?”
The sound of Michael’s voice jerked her back from her memories, reminding her of where she was, and why. Her hand tightened on the door knob, feeling her stomach clench as she pushed it open, and stepped into the motel room.
* * * * *
Zan sat in the chair turning the metal pages of the Destiny book, letting his fingers trace over the alien symbols. His eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched, knowing he was missing something. Something that might make sense out of all this. He lifted the book showing Max the cover, ordering, “Tell me what you know about this.”
“You tell me,” Max countered. He was at a disadvantage, being the one strapped down and unable to move, but he wasn’t going to give away anything if he could help it.
“Yours looks like a primer,” Zan told him, leafing through the pages again. He turned the book showing Max the page with his fully grown image carved in the metal.
“See? Boy,” Zan pointed at Max’s image. “That’d be you.” His finger moved to the female image standing beside Max. “Girl. She looks like Tess.” His finger moved again, dropping lower to touch the female’s swollen abdomen. “Baby. Oh, how cute. It’s a sex manual. I guess they didn’t think you could figure it out on your own.”
Max clenched his jaw, knowing Zan was trying to bait him, but he refused to bite.
“My Mission book looks the same on the outside,” Zan continued, flipping back to the front of the book. But the inside was different. Very different. He wanted to know why.
“Do you know where you’re from?” Zan asked, changing tactics. His penetrating eyes turned from the book to meet Max’s, forcing him to answer.
“No.”
“You – we – came from a planet called Antar. Do you remember it?”
Max shook his head slightly. Would Zan be able to tell him the secrets of his past? Could he believe anything Zan had to say?
“Antar was weak,” Zan’s lips turned downward in a sneer, sending a chill through Max. “When the Skins came, they barely offered any resistance. Antar was a society of scientists, without an army to protect them. The Skins enslaved the planet within days. Hours, really. We control Antar now.”
“We?” Max questioned. ‘We’ as in ‘Skins’? “You just said ‘we’ came from Antar.”
“True. But I owe my allegiance to the Skins.”
“Why?” Max asked, growing bolder.
“Antarian scientists might have created me, but the Skins gave me purpose. Us,” Zan said, correcting himself. “They gave us purpose.”
“No, not ‘us’,” Max said, refuting it. “I owe nothing to the ‘Skins’. I’m part human. I side with them.”
“Humans are weak. They might have more fight in ‘em, but Earth will fall, just like Antar did. They can’t stand up to us.”
“Not US! I’m not one of YOU!”
“Yes, you are,” Zan rose to his feet, towering over Max. “And I can prove it to you.”
* * * * *
Michael inched forward, straining to hear what was happening in the motel room, but only silence reached him. When a figure appeared in the doorway he was so on edge he almost lunged for it, until he saw who it was. Ava waved him forward, and then disappeared back inside.
He turned around and motioned for Isabel and Maria to stay put, but they were already bearing down on him.
“What are you doing?!” Michael demanded in a harsh whisper.
“Ava waved us to come –” Maria started but Michael cut her off.
“She waved me to join her!” Michael growled. “Not you! You’re supposed to stay back there where it’s safe!”
“Safe? SAFE?” Maria’s voice rose an octave.
“Stop fighting!” Isabel hissed, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them.
Ava stood in the motel room doorway, shaking her head back and forth. How had they survived all this time? They were practically walking around with neon flashing signs on their foreheads blazing ‘Alien here – Come and get me!’
“If Rath or Lonnie were here,” Ava spoke loudly, drawing their attention, “You’d all be dead by now.”
Silence filled the air as Ava’s statement sank in. Michael looked chagrined, Maria horrified, and Isabel just plain scared. None of them were even remotely capable of taking on a band of murdering aliens.
“If you want to live, you better come with me,” Ava motioned for them to join her in the room.
Kyle turned to Alex and whispered from their hiding place behind a large white van. “She sounds just like the Terminator! I’m sticking with her!”
“Kyle!” Alex watched him rise to his feet and jog over to Ava. Moments later the five of them filed into the motel room, leaving Alex alone outside. He looked around at the deserted parking lot, feeling over-exposed, an easy target. He tucked his broken arm close to his chest and hurried after the others. There was safety in numbers, or at least he hoped there was.
* * * * *
Zan loomed over Max, pressing the palm of his hand against the boy’s forehead. Max fought to block his probing mind, but Zan wasn’t trying to see inside him this time. No, this time Zan was sending.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship?” Zan asked. “How we got here?”
Hurtling through space. Flying past a red giant.
“Why we were sent here?” Zan continued.
Plummeting to Earth. Soldiers in uniform running through the desert.
“What our Mission was? Is?”
“No,” Max struggled, trying to escape Zan’s control. “No!”
“No?” Zan pushed harder. “Liz saw it inside you, didn’t she? She told you about the crash. She led you to your orb. She unlocked the memories that were hidden inside of you. Why? Why her? Why is she so important to you?”
To us.
“STOP!” Max cried out, reeling from the pain inside his head. The force of Max’s mental resistance caused Zan to stagger back.
“Why?” Zan stared at Max. “Why did you save Liz Parker’s life?”
The answer came unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside Max, uttered before he was even consciously aware of the words he was saying. Though it didn’t alter the truth of them, or lessen their impact.
Four simple little words that held such deeper meaning, spoken without any hesitation.
“It was my Destiny.”
TBC . . .
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
-
Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Aftermath Part 47
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
From part 46 . . .
Zan loomed over Max, pressing the palm of his hand against the boy’s forehead. Max fought to block his probing mind, but Zan wasn’t trying to see inside him this time. No, this time Zan was sending.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship?” Zan asked. “How we got here?”
Hurtling through space. Flying past a red giant.
“Why we were sent here?” Zan continued.
Plummeting to Earth. Soldiers in uniform running through the desert.
“What our Mission was? Is?”
“No,” Max struggled, trying to escape Zan’s control. “No!”
“No?” Zan pushed harder. “Liz saw it inside you, didn’t she? She told you about the crash. She led you to your orb. She unlocked the memories that were hidden inside of you. Why? Why her? Why is she so important to you?”
To us.
“STOP!” Max cried out, reeling from the pain inside his head. The force of Max’s mental resistance caused Zan to stagger back.
“Why?” Zan stared at Max. “Why did you save Liz Parker’s life?”
The answer came unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside Max, uttered before he was even consciously aware of the words he was saying. Though it didn’t alter the truth of them, or lessen their impact.
Four simple little words that held such deeper meaning, spoken without any hesitation.
“It was my Destiny.”
Aftermath
Part 47
Destiny.
Zan heard the word but he didn’t believe in it. There was only the Mission, his only purpose for being.
Without the Mission, what was he?
Neither human, nor Antarian, nor Skin.
The Mission gave him a reason for existing. The Granilith protocol set his course, the foundation for his life. Without it, he’d be . . . nothing.
Max lay on the gurney, strapped down and helpless, watching Zan pace around the room. His gestures were familiar, the way his hand rubbed over his chin, the way his fingers pulled at his lower lip, almost like watching himself in a mirror.
“No,” Zan muttered, shaking his head. “No.” His hawk-like gaze returned to Max, zeroing in on his prey. “Your destiny is the same as mine. Someone altered your design, but I’ll bring you back to us. Our Mission will succeed.”
Max paled as Zan bore down on him, mouth set, jaw tense, face twisted with deadly purpose. Zan slapped his hand hard against Max’s forehead, holding him down, while his eyes pushed to find a way in. Max fought against it, but this time in a losing battle. He was too weak, and Zan was too strong.
When their eyes locked, faces just inches apart, Zan commanded, “Remember.”
Floating. Warmth all around him. Liquid on his skin.
Movement beyond the membrane. Voices shouting.
Fighting. Explosions. Fire.
Falling. Impacting hard. Saved by the protective cushion of his pod.
“Show me more,” Zan ordered, pushing harder. His eyes dilated, forging a deeper connection with his captive. “Show me everything!”
Desert landscape flashing by. Bright sun giving way to darkening shadows.
A face rising above him; pale skin, large black eyes, or maybe just the moon.
Safe. Hidden. In a blanket of darkness, learning how to see.
Her face. Her smile. Her hand reaching out to him, his hand reaching back.
Tearing through the membrane, his waiting was over.
Time to find her. Time to keep her safe.
Zan broke off the connection stumbling backwards, nearly overwhelmed by it. Not so much by what he’d seen, but more by what he’d felt. The devotion to duty was familiar to him; he lived and breathed it with every mission, but the intended outcome was completely different. Preserving life instead of taking it.
Max sagged on table, his head lolling to the side, exhausted by Zan’s rape of his memories, and drowning in the nightmares he had seen. Zan’s connection had been a two-way street, taking from Max, but also opening a window into Zan’s soul as well. What he’d seen there had been frightening, a vision of what he might have been, or what he might become?
* * * * *
“It’s empty,” Michael looked around the motel room, relieved, yet disappointed at the same time. Relieved that they were safe, that there was no imminent threat of injury or death, but letdown, with no avenue to release his anger and suppressed rage. His body hummed with pent up power, needing an outlet.
“They were here last night,” Ava said, moving around the motel room. In the kitchen she paused at the sink, inspecting the dirty dishes. “They haven’t been gone long. They ate breakfast here.”
“They?” Isabel said, sweeping her eyes over the rundown furnishings, trying to find some evidence that her brother might have been here.
“Lonnie and Rath,” Ava clarified, noticing how Isabel fought to keep her emotions in check. “I’m sorry. Max hasn’t been here.”
“How do you know?” Isabel touched an end table, then the furniture, trying to get a sense of him. A flash, or a residual emotion. What she got instead was the image of Rath and Lonnie copulating on the couch. She pulled her hand away as if she’d just been burned.
“I can’t feel him here,” Ava said, looking around.
“Then where did they take him?” Michael demanded.
Ava turned to face him, feeling the intense scrutiny from everyone in the room. She wanted to give them better news, something to hang on to, something to fight for, but she couldn’t lie. She looked at their imploring faces, forcing an admission.
“I don’t know.”
* * * * *
Zan regrouped crouching in a corner of the white cell, trying to regain control of his breathing, willing his heart rate to return to normal.
But could he ever be normal again?
Normal had ended for him last fall, when the dreams began, the dreams Zan now knew were real. Memories from someone else, transmitted over distance, through a long dormant connection that had suddenly flared to life. As leaders, they were linked together, engineered to communicate telepathically, a skill essential in battle. That link had been closed, until that night.
“I’ve never tried this before, but maybe I can make the connection go the other way . . .”
Opening a connection to Liz had opened a link to Zan as well, on the periphery, unnoticed on a conscious level, manifesting in Zan’s dreams. Those dreams had become a part of him, Max’s memories now Zan’s memories as well.
“You can’t talk to anyone about this. Not your parents. Not Maria. No one. You don’t understand what will happen if you do.
Now my life is in your hands . . .”
Zan reeled from the irony of it. Liz Parker holding Max Evans’s life in her hands, when it was actually the other way around. Or was it? Was Liz Parker in control here, and the rest of them merely players?
Zan pushed up from the floor, thigh muscles straining against the fabric of his jeans. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, determined to take his life back. Liz Parker didn’t control him. Max Evans might have fallen victim to her, but he knew how to fix that.
* * * * *
Rath sat in front of the monitors in the control room, switching from one camera to another, monitoring the activity in the facility, or rather, the lack of it. Empty halls, silent and dead. Deserted offices buried in a layer of dust. Abandoned spider webs in the corners, even the bugs didn’t want to be in this place.
Lonnie sat in one of the wooden chairs, boot clad feet propped up on a metal desk, changing the color of her fingernails. Red to purple to blue, every color under the sun possible, with just a touch of her fingertip.
Rath pressed a switch, changing to the next camera angle, and then the next, and the next, on and on, seeing nothing but institutional colored walls. Lonnie let out a sigh and leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m bored,” she moaned.
“Get me somethin’ ta eat,” Rath switched to another camera angle.
“Get it yourself!” Lonnie sat up, slamming the front legs of the chair back to the floor with a thud. She turned her empty coffee cup into a rock and threw it at him.
“What the fuck!” Rath whirled around and glared at her, rubbing the back of his head.
“What’s he doin’?” she sat forward, noticing activity on the monitor now.
“Who?” Rath turned back to the screen.
Zan’s image moved toward the boy strapped down to the gurney. His hand touched Max’s forehead again, making the boy’s face contort in a painful scream.
“Why’s he get to have all the fun?” Rath grumbled.
“Rank hath its privileges,” Lonnie goaded.
She rose to her feet and joined Rath at the monitoring station, watching Max’s torture play out on the screen. Glancing up at Lonnie’s approach, Rath’s attention was diverted by a commotion playing out on the viewing panel into Liz Parker’s containment room. He pushed back his chair and moved toward the wall, enthralled by what he was seeing.
“Shit!” he grinned, motioning Lonnie over. “We got us a catfight goin’ on!”
Lonnie joined Rath, turning up the volume control so they could hear what they were watching.
“Trust you?” Liz raised her voice, pushing Tess away from her. “Why should I trust you?! You’ve done nothing but screw up my life since you got here! You tried to take Max away from me, but it didn’t work. He doesn’t want you!”
“I don’t want him either!” Tess shot back. “Not anymore! I’ve got a real man now. Not a boy!” She pushed Liz back, shoving her against the white padded walls.
Liz’s shoulder hit the wall hard, but she shook it off and lunged toward Tess. Her fingers yanked at the blonde curls, pulling hard, making Tess scream in rage and pain.
“Wow,” Rath leered at the two girls fighting, the dark haired one wearing only a pair of panties and a bra. “Looks like Tess is finally showin’ a little backbone. Who woudda thought?”
“Oh, good one!” Lonnie whooped it up when Tess slapped Liz hard across the face, hearing the sound of it echoing from the speakers below the viewing panel. “Maybe Zan was right about her being one of us. I ain’t never seen Ava act like that!”
In her White Room, Liz sat quietly on the floor, wearing a pair of green surgical scrubs, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She dared not move, lest she disturb her companion sitting beside her.
Tess sat on Liz’s left on the padded floor, eyes closed, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, sending the images to the two people they knew were in the other room. She hoped Liz was right, that the plan they concocted would work, because if it didn’t she’d be dead within minutes, killed for being a traitor.
“Oh, she nailed her!” Lonnie goggled at the fake images on the screen. “Hit ‘er again! Hit ‘er again!”
“Blood! I see blood!” Rath sang. “Score another point for Tess!”
“Fuck!” Lonnie sobered when she saw the door open and an angry Zan storm into the containment room. “Is he gonna stop all the fun?”
“Shit!” Rath’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What the fuck’s he doing?”
On the view panel, Tess showed Rath and Lonnie what she wanted them to see. Zan breaking up the fight. Zan shoving Tess aside and pulling Liz into his arms. Zan checking Liz for injuries, healing her cuts and abrasions. Zan helping Liz dress in the scrubs, brushing back her hair, caressing the skin of her face.
“What’s wrong with him!?” Rath growled. “She’s the fuckin’ target! What’s he healing her for? Since when does he heal one of the marks?”
“This is crazy,” Lonnie gaped at the sight. “He’s gone crazy.”
Tess let the scene play out, doing her part to plant the seeds of doubt that might be their only hope for survival. She’d seen the cracks in Zan’s carefully constructed Unit, the underlying tensions, the power play waiting to happen. The A team might be powerful and strong, with advanced alien abilities, but at their core the only thing holding them together was Zan’s iron control.
Without that, Zan’s carefully constructed world would fall apart.
* * * * *
“Do you see it?” Zan spoke into Max’s ear, prickling Max’s skin with his hot breath. “Do you feel it? The power? The rush?”
Max twisted on the table, arching against the restraints that held him down – and the visions Zan was sending him. Ten years of missions successfully completed, all playing out in his mind in horrifying color.
Death.
Blood.
So many broken bodies.
“Feel the strength. The thrill. You can have it all.”
“No,” Max whispered, closing his eyes to block it out, but the images were inside his mind.
“You can have the world.”
“No!” Max cried. “Stop!”
“It’s a part of you. What you were meant to be. Embrace it.”
His finger on a trigger, slowly squeezing off a round.
A knife, arcing through the air. A geyser of blood.
A car, careening off a cliff, bursting into flame.
A body, falling from a window, impacting on the ground.
“Don’t,” Max weakened under the assault. “Please . . .”
Zan sent him more images, doing far more damage than Pierce had ever dreamed of. The memory of physical pain diminished over time, wounds healed, scars faded, but the trauma Zan was inflicting went far deeper than that. Psychological damage, testing Max’s deepest fears.
Visions played out in Max’s mind, of a man with his face doing unthinkable things, a monster behind a human façade, smiling to the world while he plotted to destroy it. Max reached out blindly with his mind, searching for the only thing that could save his sanity.
* * * * *
Liz sat quietly on the floor, eyes closed, thinking of Max. She wondered where he was, if he knew she was missing, if he might be looking for her. Was it too soon for him to realize something was wrong? She’d only been gone a few hours, even though it felt more like days, months, even years.
Was it just this morning that she’d woken, feeling safe and protected in Max’s arms? She could still feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, his strong arm around her waist, the brush of his hand against her stomach, the curve of his body snuggled close to hers. His scent filled her senses, his presence so strong she could literally feel him, and then she heard his agonized cry. She gasped, startled by how real it sounded.
“Max,” his name escaped from her throat. Where was he? Was what she just heard real? What would make him cry out like that?
Tess’s concentration wavered when Liz spoke, almost breaking their cover. A stab of fear went down her spine hearing Liz say his name.
“Max,” Liz said again, feeling his fleeting presence, his spirit, brushing against her soul. She opened her mind, the way he’d taught her to that night in the Crashdown, reaching for the connection. Their bond, cemented by their physical union, called to each other, drawing them together.
‘Max.’
Her mind felt along the thread of their connection. Physically, her body remained in place, on the floor of her white room, sitting next to Tess, but her essence latched on to the thread that linked them together. She felt the rush as her spirit moved through space, from one white room to another.
Max took in an involuntary breath when her familiar features took on substance and form in the air not 10 feet away from him. Her image remained sketchy, lacking depth or corporeality, but there was no doubting who she was.
Zan felt her presence in the room before he saw her. He raised his head, shocked beyond words by the sight of her. How was it possible?
Her mouth moved, silently forming a word that raised Zan’s ire, a name that wasn’t his. The hackles rose at the back of his neck, seeing the way she looked at Max, and didn’t even notice him.
“Liz,” Max whispered.
“No,” Zan back pedaled, staring at Liz. “This isn’t possible.” Only sheer willpower, something he had cultivated over many years, kept him from sinking to the floor. He fought the urge to pay homage to her, and instead used his surging power to fling the door open to Max’s padded cell.
Within the confines of her prison, Liz popped her eyes open. “He’s coming.”
Zan stormed through the halls, walking faster and faster, until he was running, boots pounding on the concrete floors. Had she escaped her confinement? Was she lost to him? Had Lonnie and Rath somehow let her go? If they had, there would be no escaping his wrath. They would die a thousand deaths, each one more agonizing than the last.
“He’s coming!” Liz rose to her feet, pressing her hands back against the padded walls. Her trembling legs barely supported her, feeling his presence growing closer and closer, racing towards her.
“Where?” Tess whispered, struggling to keep the warp in effect. “Is he coming here? The Control room? WHERE?”
“I don’t know,” Liz panicked. “I don’t know!”
Zan slid around the final corner, breathing heavy, heart racing.
“Finish the warp! Finish the warp!” Liz cried. “He’ll be here in a minute. No, not a minute! He’s here now! Now!”
The hidden doorway burst open revealing a highly agitated Zan filling the doorframe. His haunted eyes burned into Liz, lungs heaving, muscles tense, hands fisted at his sides. Frustration warred with relief inside him; she was here, she was still under his control – but she wasn’t his.
Her eyes widened as Zan advanced on her. She took a step back, sliding along the padded wall.
Tess watched, relieved to see Zan’s attention riveted solely on Liz, and slowly released the mindwarp. In the control room, make believe seamlessly blended into reality, with Lonnie and Rath none the wiser.
Zan towered over Liz, staring down into her upturned face, trying to look inside her. Who was she? What was she? How could she be here and there at the same time? His duty called him, whispering to him what her fate should be, yet at the same time he wanted her, like a drug that he just had to have. His hand shot into her hair, pulling her face upwards, roughly covering her mouth with his.
His body thrummed with the need to possess her, to control her, to take her.
To caress her.
To adore her.
To love her.
He peeled his lips away, panting with need, looking into the depths of her bottomless eyes.
“Mine,” he whispered against her lips.
Liz stared up into the raw emotion on his face, seeing the need, the violence, the passion. She slowly shook her head, her voice a soft whisper in response.
“No.”
“Zan,” Tess touched his shoulder, trying to break the tension.
He whirled on Tess, noticing her for the first time. Visibly shaking, he stepped back from Liz, releasing his hold on her. Looking back and forth between the two, he finally focused on Tess and ordered, “Out!”
Tess stood frozen in place, afraid to move. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. Which one of them was he going to make submit to his attentions?
“I said OUT!” Zan growled, grabbing Tess’s upper arm. He dragged her to the still open door, ready to shove her into the hallway, when he paused, turning back to look at Liz. An internal battle raged inside him, still hearing Liz’s voice echoing in his head.
NO.
He couldn’t have her.
NO.
He could never love her.
NO.
She would never love him.
His tension spiraled out of control, his body screaming in need of relief, but she frightened him with how desperately he wanted her. Rational thought left him whenever he was near her.
He slammed the door to her prison closed, leaving Liz alone and quaking. She slid down the white wall, crumpling to the white floor, with a cry of despair escaping her lips.
Yet her overriding thoughts weren’t of herself, but of Max, imprisoned somewhere inside these walls, in much more dire condition than she was. She’d seen his torn and bloodied clothing, the dirt and blood on his face, the desperation in his eyes.
When had they captured him?
What were they going to do to him?
Why hadn’t Tess told her Max was here?
TBC . . .
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Echoes of Tomorrow
I'll have to repost Dying Embers since it seems to have been lost in the prunning.
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
From part 46 . . .
Zan loomed over Max, pressing the palm of his hand against the boy’s forehead. Max fought to block his probing mind, but Zan wasn’t trying to see inside him this time. No, this time Zan was sending.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship?” Zan asked. “How we got here?”
Hurtling through space. Flying past a red giant.
“Why we were sent here?” Zan continued.
Plummeting to Earth. Soldiers in uniform running through the desert.
“What our Mission was? Is?”
“No,” Max struggled, trying to escape Zan’s control. “No!”
“No?” Zan pushed harder. “Liz saw it inside you, didn’t she? She told you about the crash. She led you to your orb. She unlocked the memories that were hidden inside of you. Why? Why her? Why is she so important to you?”
To us.
“STOP!” Max cried out, reeling from the pain inside his head. The force of Max’s mental resistance caused Zan to stagger back.
“Why?” Zan stared at Max. “Why did you save Liz Parker’s life?”
The answer came unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside Max, uttered before he was even consciously aware of the words he was saying. Though it didn’t alter the truth of them, or lessen their impact.
Four simple little words that held such deeper meaning, spoken without any hesitation.
“It was my Destiny.”
Aftermath
Part 47
Destiny.
Zan heard the word but he didn’t believe in it. There was only the Mission, his only purpose for being.
Without the Mission, what was he?
Neither human, nor Antarian, nor Skin.
The Mission gave him a reason for existing. The Granilith protocol set his course, the foundation for his life. Without it, he’d be . . . nothing.
Max lay on the gurney, strapped down and helpless, watching Zan pace around the room. His gestures were familiar, the way his hand rubbed over his chin, the way his fingers pulled at his lower lip, almost like watching himself in a mirror.
“No,” Zan muttered, shaking his head. “No.” His hawk-like gaze returned to Max, zeroing in on his prey. “Your destiny is the same as mine. Someone altered your design, but I’ll bring you back to us. Our Mission will succeed.”
Max paled as Zan bore down on him, mouth set, jaw tense, face twisted with deadly purpose. Zan slapped his hand hard against Max’s forehead, holding him down, while his eyes pushed to find a way in. Max fought against it, but this time in a losing battle. He was too weak, and Zan was too strong.
When their eyes locked, faces just inches apart, Zan commanded, “Remember.”
Floating. Warmth all around him. Liquid on his skin.
Movement beyond the membrane. Voices shouting.
Fighting. Explosions. Fire.
Falling. Impacting hard. Saved by the protective cushion of his pod.
“Show me more,” Zan ordered, pushing harder. His eyes dilated, forging a deeper connection with his captive. “Show me everything!”
Desert landscape flashing by. Bright sun giving way to darkening shadows.
A face rising above him; pale skin, large black eyes, or maybe just the moon.
Safe. Hidden. In a blanket of darkness, learning how to see.
Her face. Her smile. Her hand reaching out to him, his hand reaching back.
Tearing through the membrane, his waiting was over.
Time to find her. Time to keep her safe.
Zan broke off the connection stumbling backwards, nearly overwhelmed by it. Not so much by what he’d seen, but more by what he’d felt. The devotion to duty was familiar to him; he lived and breathed it with every mission, but the intended outcome was completely different. Preserving life instead of taking it.
Max sagged on table, his head lolling to the side, exhausted by Zan’s rape of his memories, and drowning in the nightmares he had seen. Zan’s connection had been a two-way street, taking from Max, but also opening a window into Zan’s soul as well. What he’d seen there had been frightening, a vision of what he might have been, or what he might become?
* * * * *
“It’s empty,” Michael looked around the motel room, relieved, yet disappointed at the same time. Relieved that they were safe, that there was no imminent threat of injury or death, but letdown, with no avenue to release his anger and suppressed rage. His body hummed with pent up power, needing an outlet.
“They were here last night,” Ava said, moving around the motel room. In the kitchen she paused at the sink, inspecting the dirty dishes. “They haven’t been gone long. They ate breakfast here.”
“They?” Isabel said, sweeping her eyes over the rundown furnishings, trying to find some evidence that her brother might have been here.
“Lonnie and Rath,” Ava clarified, noticing how Isabel fought to keep her emotions in check. “I’m sorry. Max hasn’t been here.”
“How do you know?” Isabel touched an end table, then the furniture, trying to get a sense of him. A flash, or a residual emotion. What she got instead was the image of Rath and Lonnie copulating on the couch. She pulled her hand away as if she’d just been burned.
“I can’t feel him here,” Ava said, looking around.
“Then where did they take him?” Michael demanded.
Ava turned to face him, feeling the intense scrutiny from everyone in the room. She wanted to give them better news, something to hang on to, something to fight for, but she couldn’t lie. She looked at their imploring faces, forcing an admission.
“I don’t know.”
* * * * *
Zan regrouped crouching in a corner of the white cell, trying to regain control of his breathing, willing his heart rate to return to normal.
But could he ever be normal again?
Normal had ended for him last fall, when the dreams began, the dreams Zan now knew were real. Memories from someone else, transmitted over distance, through a long dormant connection that had suddenly flared to life. As leaders, they were linked together, engineered to communicate telepathically, a skill essential in battle. That link had been closed, until that night.
“I’ve never tried this before, but maybe I can make the connection go the other way . . .”
Opening a connection to Liz had opened a link to Zan as well, on the periphery, unnoticed on a conscious level, manifesting in Zan’s dreams. Those dreams had become a part of him, Max’s memories now Zan’s memories as well.
“You can’t talk to anyone about this. Not your parents. Not Maria. No one. You don’t understand what will happen if you do.
Now my life is in your hands . . .”
Zan reeled from the irony of it. Liz Parker holding Max Evans’s life in her hands, when it was actually the other way around. Or was it? Was Liz Parker in control here, and the rest of them merely players?
Zan pushed up from the floor, thigh muscles straining against the fabric of his jeans. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, determined to take his life back. Liz Parker didn’t control him. Max Evans might have fallen victim to her, but he knew how to fix that.
* * * * *
Rath sat in front of the monitors in the control room, switching from one camera to another, monitoring the activity in the facility, or rather, the lack of it. Empty halls, silent and dead. Deserted offices buried in a layer of dust. Abandoned spider webs in the corners, even the bugs didn’t want to be in this place.
Lonnie sat in one of the wooden chairs, boot clad feet propped up on a metal desk, changing the color of her fingernails. Red to purple to blue, every color under the sun possible, with just a touch of her fingertip.
Rath pressed a switch, changing to the next camera angle, and then the next, and the next, on and on, seeing nothing but institutional colored walls. Lonnie let out a sigh and leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling.
“I’m bored,” she moaned.
“Get me somethin’ ta eat,” Rath switched to another camera angle.
“Get it yourself!” Lonnie sat up, slamming the front legs of the chair back to the floor with a thud. She turned her empty coffee cup into a rock and threw it at him.
“What the fuck!” Rath whirled around and glared at her, rubbing the back of his head.
“What’s he doin’?” she sat forward, noticing activity on the monitor now.
“Who?” Rath turned back to the screen.
Zan’s image moved toward the boy strapped down to the gurney. His hand touched Max’s forehead again, making the boy’s face contort in a painful scream.
“Why’s he get to have all the fun?” Rath grumbled.
“Rank hath its privileges,” Lonnie goaded.
She rose to her feet and joined Rath at the monitoring station, watching Max’s torture play out on the screen. Glancing up at Lonnie’s approach, Rath’s attention was diverted by a commotion playing out on the viewing panel into Liz Parker’s containment room. He pushed back his chair and moved toward the wall, enthralled by what he was seeing.
“Shit!” he grinned, motioning Lonnie over. “We got us a catfight goin’ on!”
Lonnie joined Rath, turning up the volume control so they could hear what they were watching.
“Trust you?” Liz raised her voice, pushing Tess away from her. “Why should I trust you?! You’ve done nothing but screw up my life since you got here! You tried to take Max away from me, but it didn’t work. He doesn’t want you!”
“I don’t want him either!” Tess shot back. “Not anymore! I’ve got a real man now. Not a boy!” She pushed Liz back, shoving her against the white padded walls.
Liz’s shoulder hit the wall hard, but she shook it off and lunged toward Tess. Her fingers yanked at the blonde curls, pulling hard, making Tess scream in rage and pain.
“Wow,” Rath leered at the two girls fighting, the dark haired one wearing only a pair of panties and a bra. “Looks like Tess is finally showin’ a little backbone. Who woudda thought?”
“Oh, good one!” Lonnie whooped it up when Tess slapped Liz hard across the face, hearing the sound of it echoing from the speakers below the viewing panel. “Maybe Zan was right about her being one of us. I ain’t never seen Ava act like that!”
In her White Room, Liz sat quietly on the floor, wearing a pair of green surgical scrubs, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She dared not move, lest she disturb her companion sitting beside her.
Tess sat on Liz’s left on the padded floor, eyes closed, eyebrows knitted together in concentration, sending the images to the two people they knew were in the other room. She hoped Liz was right, that the plan they concocted would work, because if it didn’t she’d be dead within minutes, killed for being a traitor.
“Oh, she nailed her!” Lonnie goggled at the fake images on the screen. “Hit ‘er again! Hit ‘er again!”
“Blood! I see blood!” Rath sang. “Score another point for Tess!”
“Fuck!” Lonnie sobered when she saw the door open and an angry Zan storm into the containment room. “Is he gonna stop all the fun?”
“Shit!” Rath’s mouth fell open in surprise. “What the fuck’s he doing?”
On the view panel, Tess showed Rath and Lonnie what she wanted them to see. Zan breaking up the fight. Zan shoving Tess aside and pulling Liz into his arms. Zan checking Liz for injuries, healing her cuts and abrasions. Zan helping Liz dress in the scrubs, brushing back her hair, caressing the skin of her face.
“What’s wrong with him!?” Rath growled. “She’s the fuckin’ target! What’s he healing her for? Since when does he heal one of the marks?”
“This is crazy,” Lonnie gaped at the sight. “He’s gone crazy.”
Tess let the scene play out, doing her part to plant the seeds of doubt that might be their only hope for survival. She’d seen the cracks in Zan’s carefully constructed Unit, the underlying tensions, the power play waiting to happen. The A team might be powerful and strong, with advanced alien abilities, but at their core the only thing holding them together was Zan’s iron control.
Without that, Zan’s carefully constructed world would fall apart.
* * * * *
“Do you see it?” Zan spoke into Max’s ear, prickling Max’s skin with his hot breath. “Do you feel it? The power? The rush?”
Max twisted on the table, arching against the restraints that held him down – and the visions Zan was sending him. Ten years of missions successfully completed, all playing out in his mind in horrifying color.
Death.
Blood.
So many broken bodies.
“Feel the strength. The thrill. You can have it all.”
“No,” Max whispered, closing his eyes to block it out, but the images were inside his mind.
“You can have the world.”
“No!” Max cried. “Stop!”
“It’s a part of you. What you were meant to be. Embrace it.”
His finger on a trigger, slowly squeezing off a round.
A knife, arcing through the air. A geyser of blood.
A car, careening off a cliff, bursting into flame.
A body, falling from a window, impacting on the ground.
“Don’t,” Max weakened under the assault. “Please . . .”
Zan sent him more images, doing far more damage than Pierce had ever dreamed of. The memory of physical pain diminished over time, wounds healed, scars faded, but the trauma Zan was inflicting went far deeper than that. Psychological damage, testing Max’s deepest fears.
Visions played out in Max’s mind, of a man with his face doing unthinkable things, a monster behind a human façade, smiling to the world while he plotted to destroy it. Max reached out blindly with his mind, searching for the only thing that could save his sanity.
* * * * *
Liz sat quietly on the floor, eyes closed, thinking of Max. She wondered where he was, if he knew she was missing, if he might be looking for her. Was it too soon for him to realize something was wrong? She’d only been gone a few hours, even though it felt more like days, months, even years.
Was it just this morning that she’d woken, feeling safe and protected in Max’s arms? She could still feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, his strong arm around her waist, the brush of his hand against her stomach, the curve of his body snuggled close to hers. His scent filled her senses, his presence so strong she could literally feel him, and then she heard his agonized cry. She gasped, startled by how real it sounded.
“Max,” his name escaped from her throat. Where was he? Was what she just heard real? What would make him cry out like that?
Tess’s concentration wavered when Liz spoke, almost breaking their cover. A stab of fear went down her spine hearing Liz say his name.
“Max,” Liz said again, feeling his fleeting presence, his spirit, brushing against her soul. She opened her mind, the way he’d taught her to that night in the Crashdown, reaching for the connection. Their bond, cemented by their physical union, called to each other, drawing them together.
‘Max.’
Her mind felt along the thread of their connection. Physically, her body remained in place, on the floor of her white room, sitting next to Tess, but her essence latched on to the thread that linked them together. She felt the rush as her spirit moved through space, from one white room to another.
Max took in an involuntary breath when her familiar features took on substance and form in the air not 10 feet away from him. Her image remained sketchy, lacking depth or corporeality, but there was no doubting who she was.
Zan felt her presence in the room before he saw her. He raised his head, shocked beyond words by the sight of her. How was it possible?
Her mouth moved, silently forming a word that raised Zan’s ire, a name that wasn’t his. The hackles rose at the back of his neck, seeing the way she looked at Max, and didn’t even notice him.
“Liz,” Max whispered.
“No,” Zan back pedaled, staring at Liz. “This isn’t possible.” Only sheer willpower, something he had cultivated over many years, kept him from sinking to the floor. He fought the urge to pay homage to her, and instead used his surging power to fling the door open to Max’s padded cell.
Within the confines of her prison, Liz popped her eyes open. “He’s coming.”
Zan stormed through the halls, walking faster and faster, until he was running, boots pounding on the concrete floors. Had she escaped her confinement? Was she lost to him? Had Lonnie and Rath somehow let her go? If they had, there would be no escaping his wrath. They would die a thousand deaths, each one more agonizing than the last.
“He’s coming!” Liz rose to her feet, pressing her hands back against the padded walls. Her trembling legs barely supported her, feeling his presence growing closer and closer, racing towards her.
“Where?” Tess whispered, struggling to keep the warp in effect. “Is he coming here? The Control room? WHERE?”
“I don’t know,” Liz panicked. “I don’t know!”
Zan slid around the final corner, breathing heavy, heart racing.
“Finish the warp! Finish the warp!” Liz cried. “He’ll be here in a minute. No, not a minute! He’s here now! Now!”
The hidden doorway burst open revealing a highly agitated Zan filling the doorframe. His haunted eyes burned into Liz, lungs heaving, muscles tense, hands fisted at his sides. Frustration warred with relief inside him; she was here, she was still under his control – but she wasn’t his.
Her eyes widened as Zan advanced on her. She took a step back, sliding along the padded wall.
Tess watched, relieved to see Zan’s attention riveted solely on Liz, and slowly released the mindwarp. In the control room, make believe seamlessly blended into reality, with Lonnie and Rath none the wiser.
Zan towered over Liz, staring down into her upturned face, trying to look inside her. Who was she? What was she? How could she be here and there at the same time? His duty called him, whispering to him what her fate should be, yet at the same time he wanted her, like a drug that he just had to have. His hand shot into her hair, pulling her face upwards, roughly covering her mouth with his.
His body thrummed with the need to possess her, to control her, to take her.
To caress her.
To adore her.
To love her.
He peeled his lips away, panting with need, looking into the depths of her bottomless eyes.
“Mine,” he whispered against her lips.
Liz stared up into the raw emotion on his face, seeing the need, the violence, the passion. She slowly shook her head, her voice a soft whisper in response.
“No.”
“Zan,” Tess touched his shoulder, trying to break the tension.
He whirled on Tess, noticing her for the first time. Visibly shaking, he stepped back from Liz, releasing his hold on her. Looking back and forth between the two, he finally focused on Tess and ordered, “Out!”
Tess stood frozen in place, afraid to move. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. Which one of them was he going to make submit to his attentions?
“I said OUT!” Zan growled, grabbing Tess’s upper arm. He dragged her to the still open door, ready to shove her into the hallway, when he paused, turning back to look at Liz. An internal battle raged inside him, still hearing Liz’s voice echoing in his head.
NO.
He couldn’t have her.
NO.
He could never love her.
NO.
She would never love him.
His tension spiraled out of control, his body screaming in need of relief, but she frightened him with how desperately he wanted her. Rational thought left him whenever he was near her.
He slammed the door to her prison closed, leaving Liz alone and quaking. She slid down the white wall, crumpling to the white floor, with a cry of despair escaping her lips.
Yet her overriding thoughts weren’t of herself, but of Max, imprisoned somewhere inside these walls, in much more dire condition than she was. She’d seen his torn and bloodied clothing, the dirt and blood on his face, the desperation in his eyes.
When had they captured him?
What were they going to do to him?
Why hadn’t Tess told her Max was here?
TBC . . .
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Echoes of Tomorrow
I'll have to repost Dying Embers since it seems to have been lost in the prunning.
Last edited by Breathless on Thu Feb 05, 2004 12:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Breathless
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- Posts: 254
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Aftermath Part 48
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 48
Max flexed his arms, trying to work free of his restraints, but only succeeded in abrading the skin on his wrists. His attempt to use his powers had proven just as useless; the canvas straps that held him down had been reinforced with a little alien enhancement, something he couldn’t break free of.
He twisted his head trying to see behind him, in the direction Zan had disappeared. For a moment he had dared to hope for escape, hearing his doppelganger’s rapidly diminishing footsteps fade into the distance, but then the door soundlessly swung closed, locking Max in his silent prison. Whatever was happening beyond those walls now, no sound reached him here.
In a fit of panic and rage, Max thrashed on the gurney, kicking against his leg restraints, arching up his chest, but the bonds tightened, holding him in place. A growl of frustration tore from his throat, feeling tense and distraught, knowing Zan was probably with Liz right now, doing god knows what to her. Her image had disappeared as soon as Zan raced off after her, but that brief moment of fear Max had seen in her eyes when she knew Zan was coming was indelibly inked in his mind.
“Liz,” he choked out her name with his head falling back against the gurney, exhausted by his fruitless efforts to free himself. Breathing heavily, he felt the white walls closing in on him. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories, but they were always there, lurking in the background, waiting to rise up and drown him.
“Good morning, Max.”
Max jerked at the sound of the voice, a nightmare from his past coming back to haunt him. He squirmed, looking around the room, but no one was there.
“You’ve made a mistake.”
His breath caught in his throat, hearing the echo of his own voice in his head. His hands began to tremble.
“I’m Max Evans. I live at 6025 Murray Lane. You can call my parents.”
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What’s the name of your home planet?”
Max jerked to the left, then the right, hearing Pierce’s voice all around him, even though he knew it was only a memory. His stomach churned, rolled, ready to be sick.
“Go away!”
“All right. The hard way.”
Max gasped, feeling reality and memory blending together, fighting against invisible ghosts. He arched up against the restraint across his chest, shouting at the ceiling, feeling phantom hands holding him down.
“Why are you doing this to me!”
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor of her room with her back against the wall, still shaking. She raked her hair back from her face, curling her fingers around the strands in a fist, pulling it taut. The reality of her situation slammed into her, the nightmare of where she was, and the very real possibility that she would never leave this place alive. Her one best hope for rescue was being held captive, just like her.
She leaned her head back against the wall letting out a long breath, racking her brain trying to think of something – anything – that would get them out of here. She’d seen the panic on Max’s face, the torment in his eyes, the fear closing in on him. What was happening to him now? Had Zan gone back to torture him more?
“WE HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU!” Liz shouted at the white walls, even though she could sense Zan wasn’t watching. “LET US GO,” she cried out, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please let us go.”
Covering her face with her hands she felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, the hitch in her chest of overwhelming emotions. For a moment she almost gave in to them, almost lost herself in the hopeless despair, but then his face swam in front of her eyes, reminding her to fight. Max needed help, and right now, she was the only one who could give it to him.
Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She wasn’t sure if she could do it again, but she had to try, no matter what it did to her. She reached out with her mind, feeling for his presence again, praying she could find him.
“Max,” she whispered, opening herself to their connection, telling herself not to think about it, just to feel it, like a sixth sense. Now was not the time to analyze the science of it. There’d be time for that later, if they made it out of here alive.
Her energy, her power reached for his . . .
* * * * *
Isabel opened her eyes and looked at the five faces staring at her, all waiting for her answer. It killed her, watching the hope fade out of their eyes as she slowly shook her head.
“Nothing?” Maria said in disbelief.
“I can feel him,” Isabel rose from the old couch in the motel room, “but he won’t let me in. It’s like there’s a wall I can’t get past.”
“What about Liz?” Alex asked. “Did you try Liz?”
“I can’t feel her,” Isabel paced the room. “I’m not connected to her like I am to Max. I can’t reach her when she’s awake.” At least that’s what she hoped it was, and not something more insidious.
“Great!” Michael turned away from the others, feeling his frustrations mounting. He was supposed to protect Max. And Liz. And look at where it got them. Delivered right into the hands of the enemy.
“This isn’t your fault,” Maria walked up behind him, trying to reassure him.
“We’ve got nothing!” Michael whirled on her, releasing his frustrations in an unfocused burst of energy. An overhead light bulb exploded into a thousand pieces.
“Whoa,” Kyle ducked, sticking his hand out to keep from getting pelted with shards of glass. When nothing happened he slowly lowered his arm and raised his head, wondering why everyone was staring at him. “What? What are ya lookin’ at?”
“Kyle?” Maria’s mouth hung open. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do that!” Kyle protested, pointing a finger at Michael. “Anger Management is his issue, not mine–”
“Not that,” Isabel cut him off. “That!”
“What?” he looked toward the ceiling where she was pointing, and then it was his turn to have his mouth drop open. “Wow. Who did that?”
The glass shards from the shattered light bulb hung frozen in the air, twinkling like a thousand stars.
“You did that,” Ava stared at Kyle in surprise.
“No I didn’t,” Kyle shook his head. No no no. That was like, so – impossible. No. Uh uh. Negative.
“Yes you did,” Alex told him.
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Isabel insisted.
“No – I – oh god,” his knees started shaking. What did he do? His quivering legs gave way and he collapsed onto the couch.
“Kyle, are you alright?” Maria hurried over to him.
“Get me a mirror,” his hand clamped down on her arm, starting to panic. “Where’s a mirror!”
“Right there,” Alex pointed at one bolted to the motel room wall.
Kyle raced over to it and stared at his image, touching his face with his hand. Finally he said, “I still look human.”
“You are human,” Michael scoffed at him.
“Then how did I do that!” he shot his hand out, pointing toward the ceiling.
“You better take the whammy off,” Alex reached up with his good arm, plucking one of the shards out of the air. “Before somebody sees it.”
Kyle felt them all staring at him again, making the blood rush out of his face. “Don’t look at me! I can’t – I’m not –”
“You’re the one who did it,” Michael reminded him.
“But I don’t know how to undo it!” He was ready to bolt, but where was there to go? He couldn’t run away from himself.
“Kyle –”
He jumped when he felt Isabel’s hand on his arm. He back pedaled away from her.
“We can help you,” Isabel tried to calm him.
“Help me?” Kyle gawked at her. “Haven’t you done enough? You turned me into a frickin’ mutant! I’m an X-man!”
As soon as he said it he regretted it. The look on Isabel’s face couldn’t have been worse if he’d slapped her. It wasn’t her fault. It was Max’s. If their illustrious leader was here right now he’d kick his ass. But he wasn’t here. Because he was – damn. Shit. He couldn’t be mad at Max either, considering.
“Look,” Kyle forced himself to take a deep breath. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak. It’s . . . just . . .”
Ava watched the group close ranks, pulling together to support one of their own. As Kyle relaxed, Maria ruffled his hair. Alex punched him on the arm. Michael praised him on his power, and Isabel smiled, and then laughed when Kyle commented on developing a better one, like “invisibility in the girl’s locker room”.
Watching them, Ava envied them their unity. At their core, despite their bickering and inexperience, their friendship and love for one another held them together. They didn’t stand a chance against Zan, but she’d stay with them to the very end.
* * * * *
“What the fuck’s he doin’?” Rath scowled at the security monitor, watching Max shout at invisible ghosts.
“Maybe it’s genetic,” Lonnie folded her arms over her ample chest. “Zan’s gone fuckin’ nuts. Looks like he has too.”
Concentrating on Max, neither one of them noticed a glowing light coming from Liz’s containment room.
* * * * *
“Daniel Summers. The man who brought me into this unit. The man whose job I now have. Did you kill him, too? Or was it one of the others?”
“What others?”
Max fought against the voices in his head. Things he didn’t know before warred with things that were now rising to the surface, things that his fragile mind didn’t want to grasp.
Like . . . The Others.
“Stop!” Max cried out, shouting at his inner demons.
‘Max . . .’
A whimper escaped his throat, but this time it was caused by a good feeling, not the terror that had been overtaking him. He twisted his head, desperately looking for her, sighing when he found her. The air shimmered all around her, glowing like an angel sent from Heaven.
“Liz . . .”
She came closer, floating like a spectral image hovering over him. He looked up at her face, glowing from some internal source he couldn’t fathom. Her lips parted, but the sound that reached him was only a whisper in his mind.
‘Are you okay?’
“Yeah,” he said, denying the obvious.
‘Liar,’ she smiled down at him. He always tried to shelter her.
* * * * *
In the control room, Rath and Lonnie continued to watch.
“What the hell’s he smilin’ about?” Rath growled. “Shouting one minute and grinnin’ like a loon the next.”
Lonnie turned away from the monitor and headed for the door. “Let’s go fuck with him.”
“What about Zan?”
Lonnie shrugged, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. “Zan’s busy.”
A slow smile spread across Rath’s face, warming to the idea. Nothing like a little game to chase away the boredom. “Whadda ya wanna do to him?”
Lonnie’s eyes flicked over to the monitor showing Max’s prone body lying flat on the gurney. “Poor baby needs a bath.”
* * * * *
“Are you really real? I mean,” Max faltered, looking up into Liz’s glowing face. “Am . . . am I just making you up?”
‘It’s me,’ she nodded, cupping his face with her hands, but Max couldn’t feel it. Her essence might be here, but her body wasn’t. The real Liz was somewhere else, as captive as he was. Still, her presence here was comforting, a healing balm to his shattered soul, helping him hold it together.
‘What did he do to you?’ Liz asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Save yourself, Liz,” Max pleaded with her. “Find a way out of here.”
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Not without you.’
“I can’t help you, Liz,” Max looked up at her, begging her to listen. “I want to, but . . .”
His voice trailed off, both of them knowing what he meant. His powers weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t escape Zan, but if Liz could get away from him somehow, maybe she stood a decent chance.
“Do you know . . . how you . . .?” his eyes swept over her, marveling at her presence here. If she could reach outside her body, maybe she could contact Isabel, or Michael, or even Valenti.
‘We’re connected,’ she said, with her smile lighting her face. ‘I close my eyes and I can feel you. My molecules know how to find yours.’
His tense features softened, letting the horror of their situation fall to the background while he basked in her presence. For a moment her hand almost felt real, the warmth of it touching his skin, solid and alive, not just an astral projection, and then reality crashed back on them.
The door to his padded cell burst open allowing entrance to two soulless creatures bred in the blackness of space. Lonnie and Rath waltzed in, like two cats about to play.
‘Go!’, Max’s mind reached out to Liz, instinctively using their connection to communicate. He mentally pushed her away, not wanting her to see what they were going to do to him.
‘Max!’ Liz cried out, trying to hold on to him, but the strain was too great. She felt the energy waning. The room began to spin and then she was snapped back into her body, in the emptiness of her own white room.
“Well, well, well,” Lonnie sauntered over to the gurney holding Zan’s double in place. “Look who’s awake.”
Max felt Lonnie’s hand touch his head, her thumb brush over his eyebrow, her blood red fingernail scrape down his cheek, making his spine shiver in revulsion. Her face might look like Isabel’s, but that’s where the similarity ended. His sister might appear cold on the outside, but it was a just a cover to hide her insecurities. Inside, Isabel was just like everyone else; wanting to be loved and accepted. This creature, Lonnie, wasn’t even remotely human.
“Cat got yer tongue?” Rath loomed over him, his rabid grin reeking of malevolence.
Max swallowed, feeling his stomach tighten, sensing something bad was coming. “What do you want?” Even he could hear how weak he sounded.
“You look uncomfortable,” Lonnie purred, trailing her finger down his throat. Her smile widened, feeling the rapid pulse under his skin. Aw, poor baby was scared.
“He’s a mess,” Rath agreed, pressing his hands flat against the side of the gurney. His palms began to glow. “We should clean him up. Make him look presentable.”
Max looked from Lonnie on his right, to Rath on his left, both hovering over him like Satan’s evil minions. His breathing escalated, his flight instinct trying to take hold, but for him there was no escape. Lonnie pressed her hand to his chest just as the gurney changed beneath him, the molecules of the padded surface altering into a new chemical component, solid turning to liquid.
A scream barely escaped his throat before his body plunged into cold water, feeling ice against his skin and water invading his mouth, choking on a last gasp of air before it engulfed him. His arms and legs flailed out, kicking at the sides of what was now a metal tub, grabbing for something to hold on to, to pull himself above the surface, but their hands were holding him down.
His screams gurgled, muffled by the water, sounding hollow in his ears, past and present blending together. He clawed and thrashed against the monsters holding him down, but they were stronger, just like the men in white before. His head broke the surface long enough to gasp a breath of life sustaining air, and then he was under again, living out his nightmares.
* * * * *
Liz slumped onto the floor of her padded cell, shaking from the fear she’d felt inside him before Max pushed her out of his mind. She knew what he was trying to do, shield her from the horror of what was happening to him, but it only left her feeling more helpless than before.
Rising to her feet, her fear turned into anger. Her bare feet raced across the padded floor leaving brief indentations of her footprints behind her. She hurled herself at the sealed door, shouting words that no one could hear. No one was listening.
“ZAN!” she cried his name, pounding her fists against the soft walls. “I’ll do whatever you want! Whatever you say! Anything!” she sobbed, sliding down the wall, collapsing into a heap on the ground.
“Zan,” she whispered. “Please . . . If there’s one shred of humanity inside you, please don’t hurt him.”
* * * * *
Zan stood at the window in his temporary quarters, naked skin glistening in the dwindling sunlight. He looked out over the forlorn desert landscape, empty, barren, dead; even the birds didn’t fly through the air here. Dried up tumbleweed rolled listlessly with the breeze, without purpose, without destination, as lifeless as he felt.
Tess watched him from her position on the military cot, trying to cover herself with a rough olive green blanket, biting back a cry of pain when she moved. His assault had been relentless, overpowering, taking what he wanted, what he needed, what he demanded. The skin on her face burned from where his hand had held her down, covering her eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her. She knew the face he wanted to see wasn’t hers.
But she’d seen enough, looking up at him through the slits of his fingers, seeing his face contort with the effort, the strain of trying to feel something, anything, besides his unsatisfied desire for something he couldn’t have.
Had this really been what she once thought she wanted? A tough, ruthless leader who cowed to no one? Who made unwavering decisions, with authority and strength? Had she really been that blind?
She flinched when he moved, afraid he was going to come at her again, but he stayed in place, not turning from the window. She watched him raise his right hand, appearing to touch somewhere on his naked chest, but with his back to her she couldn’t see where. She wondered what he was doing.
Zan removed his right hand from the tattoo on his chest, revealing the resurrected swirling symbol of his homeworld. He moved his left hand to his right arm, feeling the warmth penetrate his skin as he restored the four square to his bicep, then another symbol to his forearm, before moving on to his hip. He replaced each tattoo that he’d previously removed, on his left arm, his shoulder, the small of his back, not even needing to see what he was doing. His skin knew how the tattoos felt. The swirls and lines.
The symbols of who he was, and what he was. Reminders of why he was here.
Tess watched the sunlight dance on his golden skin, shining with a sheen of sweat, muscles flexing with restless energy underneath the surface. He lowered his head and paused, with his hand pressed flat against his lower abdomen, below the indentation of his navel.
A minute of silence passed, and then another and another, before Tess got up the courage to ask, “Can I go?”
His head half turned, eyes cast downward, not lifting them to meet hers. She saw him draw in a breath to speak, and then pause, searching for the words, finally settling on a simple command.
“Go.”
She dressed quickly, throwing on just enough to cover herself, then grabbing the rest. On her way out she paused at the door, throwing a look at him over her shoulder, catching his reflection in the window. His eyes, that she once thought so cold and remote, now burned with emotion.
Loss and regret colored his face, things she’d hadn’t seen there before. And something else as well, something that gave her pause. She didn’t know how to respond to it. He’d hurt her. Used her. Caused her immense pain. But the look on his face.
Such utter loneliness.
For a brief moment she felt a pang of empathy for him, and then she opened the door and fled the room.
Zan heard the door close, leaving him alone in his isolation. He looked down at his abdomen, to the white rose tattoo he’d just engraved there, seared into his skin so he’d never forget Her. His finger touched his newly adorned flesh, tracing the curves of the petals, down the slim green stem to the thorns. His finger lingered, adding a droplet of blood to the design, a symbol of his wounds.
When he was done, he looked toward the door knowing it was time; he’d lingered here too long already. A mission needed completion. A message was waiting to tell him the next.
He dressed slowly with unnatural reserve, the first time in his life procrastinating, delaying the inevitable.
His Duty called, time to fulfill his obligations.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Echoes of Tomorrow
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 48
Max flexed his arms, trying to work free of his restraints, but only succeeded in abrading the skin on his wrists. His attempt to use his powers had proven just as useless; the canvas straps that held him down had been reinforced with a little alien enhancement, something he couldn’t break free of.
He twisted his head trying to see behind him, in the direction Zan had disappeared. For a moment he had dared to hope for escape, hearing his doppelganger’s rapidly diminishing footsteps fade into the distance, but then the door soundlessly swung closed, locking Max in his silent prison. Whatever was happening beyond those walls now, no sound reached him here.
In a fit of panic and rage, Max thrashed on the gurney, kicking against his leg restraints, arching up his chest, but the bonds tightened, holding him in place. A growl of frustration tore from his throat, feeling tense and distraught, knowing Zan was probably with Liz right now, doing god knows what to her. Her image had disappeared as soon as Zan raced off after her, but that brief moment of fear Max had seen in her eyes when she knew Zan was coming was indelibly inked in his mind.
“Liz,” he choked out her name with his head falling back against the gurney, exhausted by his fruitless efforts to free himself. Breathing heavily, he felt the white walls closing in on him. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories, but they were always there, lurking in the background, waiting to rise up and drown him.
“Good morning, Max.”
Max jerked at the sound of the voice, a nightmare from his past coming back to haunt him. He squirmed, looking around the room, but no one was there.
“You’ve made a mistake.”
His breath caught in his throat, hearing the echo of his own voice in his head. His hands began to tremble.
“I’m Max Evans. I live at 6025 Murray Lane. You can call my parents.”
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What’s the name of your home planet?”
Max jerked to the left, then the right, hearing Pierce’s voice all around him, even though he knew it was only a memory. His stomach churned, rolled, ready to be sick.
“Go away!”
“All right. The hard way.”
Max gasped, feeling reality and memory blending together, fighting against invisible ghosts. He arched up against the restraint across his chest, shouting at the ceiling, feeling phantom hands holding him down.
“Why are you doing this to me!”
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor of her room with her back against the wall, still shaking. She raked her hair back from her face, curling her fingers around the strands in a fist, pulling it taut. The reality of her situation slammed into her, the nightmare of where she was, and the very real possibility that she would never leave this place alive. Her one best hope for rescue was being held captive, just like her.
She leaned her head back against the wall letting out a long breath, racking her brain trying to think of something – anything – that would get them out of here. She’d seen the panic on Max’s face, the torment in his eyes, the fear closing in on him. What was happening to him now? Had Zan gone back to torture him more?
“WE HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU!” Liz shouted at the white walls, even though she could sense Zan wasn’t watching. “LET US GO,” she cried out, and then her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please let us go.”
Covering her face with her hands she felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes, the hitch in her chest of overwhelming emotions. For a moment she almost gave in to them, almost lost herself in the hopeless despair, but then his face swam in front of her eyes, reminding her to fight. Max needed help, and right now, she was the only one who could give it to him.
Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She wasn’t sure if she could do it again, but she had to try, no matter what it did to her. She reached out with her mind, feeling for his presence again, praying she could find him.
“Max,” she whispered, opening herself to their connection, telling herself not to think about it, just to feel it, like a sixth sense. Now was not the time to analyze the science of it. There’d be time for that later, if they made it out of here alive.
Her energy, her power reached for his . . .
* * * * *
Isabel opened her eyes and looked at the five faces staring at her, all waiting for her answer. It killed her, watching the hope fade out of their eyes as she slowly shook her head.
“Nothing?” Maria said in disbelief.
“I can feel him,” Isabel rose from the old couch in the motel room, “but he won’t let me in. It’s like there’s a wall I can’t get past.”
“What about Liz?” Alex asked. “Did you try Liz?”
“I can’t feel her,” Isabel paced the room. “I’m not connected to her like I am to Max. I can’t reach her when she’s awake.” At least that’s what she hoped it was, and not something more insidious.
“Great!” Michael turned away from the others, feeling his frustrations mounting. He was supposed to protect Max. And Liz. And look at where it got them. Delivered right into the hands of the enemy.
“This isn’t your fault,” Maria walked up behind him, trying to reassure him.
“We’ve got nothing!” Michael whirled on her, releasing his frustrations in an unfocused burst of energy. An overhead light bulb exploded into a thousand pieces.
“Whoa,” Kyle ducked, sticking his hand out to keep from getting pelted with shards of glass. When nothing happened he slowly lowered his arm and raised his head, wondering why everyone was staring at him. “What? What are ya lookin’ at?”
“Kyle?” Maria’s mouth hung open. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do that!” Kyle protested, pointing a finger at Michael. “Anger Management is his issue, not mine–”
“Not that,” Isabel cut him off. “That!”
“What?” he looked toward the ceiling where she was pointing, and then it was his turn to have his mouth drop open. “Wow. Who did that?”
The glass shards from the shattered light bulb hung frozen in the air, twinkling like a thousand stars.
“You did that,” Ava stared at Kyle in surprise.
“No I didn’t,” Kyle shook his head. No no no. That was like, so – impossible. No. Uh uh. Negative.
“Yes you did,” Alex told him.
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Isabel insisted.
“No – I – oh god,” his knees started shaking. What did he do? His quivering legs gave way and he collapsed onto the couch.
“Kyle, are you alright?” Maria hurried over to him.
“Get me a mirror,” his hand clamped down on her arm, starting to panic. “Where’s a mirror!”
“Right there,” Alex pointed at one bolted to the motel room wall.
Kyle raced over to it and stared at his image, touching his face with his hand. Finally he said, “I still look human.”
“You are human,” Michael scoffed at him.
“Then how did I do that!” he shot his hand out, pointing toward the ceiling.
“You better take the whammy off,” Alex reached up with his good arm, plucking one of the shards out of the air. “Before somebody sees it.”
Kyle felt them all staring at him again, making the blood rush out of his face. “Don’t look at me! I can’t – I’m not –”
“You’re the one who did it,” Michael reminded him.
“But I don’t know how to undo it!” He was ready to bolt, but where was there to go? He couldn’t run away from himself.
“Kyle –”
He jumped when he felt Isabel’s hand on his arm. He back pedaled away from her.
“We can help you,” Isabel tried to calm him.
“Help me?” Kyle gawked at her. “Haven’t you done enough? You turned me into a frickin’ mutant! I’m an X-man!”
As soon as he said it he regretted it. The look on Isabel’s face couldn’t have been worse if he’d slapped her. It wasn’t her fault. It was Max’s. If their illustrious leader was here right now he’d kick his ass. But he wasn’t here. Because he was – damn. Shit. He couldn’t be mad at Max either, considering.
“Look,” Kyle forced himself to take a deep breath. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak. It’s . . . just . . .”
Ava watched the group close ranks, pulling together to support one of their own. As Kyle relaxed, Maria ruffled his hair. Alex punched him on the arm. Michael praised him on his power, and Isabel smiled, and then laughed when Kyle commented on developing a better one, like “invisibility in the girl’s locker room”.
Watching them, Ava envied them their unity. At their core, despite their bickering and inexperience, their friendship and love for one another held them together. They didn’t stand a chance against Zan, but she’d stay with them to the very end.
* * * * *
“What the fuck’s he doin’?” Rath scowled at the security monitor, watching Max shout at invisible ghosts.
“Maybe it’s genetic,” Lonnie folded her arms over her ample chest. “Zan’s gone fuckin’ nuts. Looks like he has too.”
Concentrating on Max, neither one of them noticed a glowing light coming from Liz’s containment room.
* * * * *
“Daniel Summers. The man who brought me into this unit. The man whose job I now have. Did you kill him, too? Or was it one of the others?”
“What others?”
Max fought against the voices in his head. Things he didn’t know before warred with things that were now rising to the surface, things that his fragile mind didn’t want to grasp.
Like . . . The Others.
“Stop!” Max cried out, shouting at his inner demons.
‘Max . . .’
A whimper escaped his throat, but this time it was caused by a good feeling, not the terror that had been overtaking him. He twisted his head, desperately looking for her, sighing when he found her. The air shimmered all around her, glowing like an angel sent from Heaven.
“Liz . . .”
She came closer, floating like a spectral image hovering over him. He looked up at her face, glowing from some internal source he couldn’t fathom. Her lips parted, but the sound that reached him was only a whisper in his mind.
‘Are you okay?’
“Yeah,” he said, denying the obvious.
‘Liar,’ she smiled down at him. He always tried to shelter her.
* * * * *
In the control room, Rath and Lonnie continued to watch.
“What the hell’s he smilin’ about?” Rath growled. “Shouting one minute and grinnin’ like a loon the next.”
Lonnie turned away from the monitor and headed for the door. “Let’s go fuck with him.”
“What about Zan?”
Lonnie shrugged, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. “Zan’s busy.”
A slow smile spread across Rath’s face, warming to the idea. Nothing like a little game to chase away the boredom. “Whadda ya wanna do to him?”
Lonnie’s eyes flicked over to the monitor showing Max’s prone body lying flat on the gurney. “Poor baby needs a bath.”
* * * * *
“Are you really real? I mean,” Max faltered, looking up into Liz’s glowing face. “Am . . . am I just making you up?”
‘It’s me,’ she nodded, cupping his face with her hands, but Max couldn’t feel it. Her essence might be here, but her body wasn’t. The real Liz was somewhere else, as captive as he was. Still, her presence here was comforting, a healing balm to his shattered soul, helping him hold it together.
‘What did he do to you?’ Liz asked.
“Don’t worry about me. Save yourself, Liz,” Max pleaded with her. “Find a way out of here.”
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Not without you.’
“I can’t help you, Liz,” Max looked up at her, begging her to listen. “I want to, but . . .”
His voice trailed off, both of them knowing what he meant. His powers weren’t strong enough. He couldn’t escape Zan, but if Liz could get away from him somehow, maybe she stood a decent chance.
“Do you know . . . how you . . .?” his eyes swept over her, marveling at her presence here. If she could reach outside her body, maybe she could contact Isabel, or Michael, or even Valenti.
‘We’re connected,’ she said, with her smile lighting her face. ‘I close my eyes and I can feel you. My molecules know how to find yours.’
His tense features softened, letting the horror of their situation fall to the background while he basked in her presence. For a moment her hand almost felt real, the warmth of it touching his skin, solid and alive, not just an astral projection, and then reality crashed back on them.
The door to his padded cell burst open allowing entrance to two soulless creatures bred in the blackness of space. Lonnie and Rath waltzed in, like two cats about to play.
‘Go!’, Max’s mind reached out to Liz, instinctively using their connection to communicate. He mentally pushed her away, not wanting her to see what they were going to do to him.
‘Max!’ Liz cried out, trying to hold on to him, but the strain was too great. She felt the energy waning. The room began to spin and then she was snapped back into her body, in the emptiness of her own white room.
“Well, well, well,” Lonnie sauntered over to the gurney holding Zan’s double in place. “Look who’s awake.”
Max felt Lonnie’s hand touch his head, her thumb brush over his eyebrow, her blood red fingernail scrape down his cheek, making his spine shiver in revulsion. Her face might look like Isabel’s, but that’s where the similarity ended. His sister might appear cold on the outside, but it was a just a cover to hide her insecurities. Inside, Isabel was just like everyone else; wanting to be loved and accepted. This creature, Lonnie, wasn’t even remotely human.
“Cat got yer tongue?” Rath loomed over him, his rabid grin reeking of malevolence.
Max swallowed, feeling his stomach tighten, sensing something bad was coming. “What do you want?” Even he could hear how weak he sounded.
“You look uncomfortable,” Lonnie purred, trailing her finger down his throat. Her smile widened, feeling the rapid pulse under his skin. Aw, poor baby was scared.
“He’s a mess,” Rath agreed, pressing his hands flat against the side of the gurney. His palms began to glow. “We should clean him up. Make him look presentable.”
Max looked from Lonnie on his right, to Rath on his left, both hovering over him like Satan’s evil minions. His breathing escalated, his flight instinct trying to take hold, but for him there was no escape. Lonnie pressed her hand to his chest just as the gurney changed beneath him, the molecules of the padded surface altering into a new chemical component, solid turning to liquid.
A scream barely escaped his throat before his body plunged into cold water, feeling ice against his skin and water invading his mouth, choking on a last gasp of air before it engulfed him. His arms and legs flailed out, kicking at the sides of what was now a metal tub, grabbing for something to hold on to, to pull himself above the surface, but their hands were holding him down.
His screams gurgled, muffled by the water, sounding hollow in his ears, past and present blending together. He clawed and thrashed against the monsters holding him down, but they were stronger, just like the men in white before. His head broke the surface long enough to gasp a breath of life sustaining air, and then he was under again, living out his nightmares.
* * * * *
Liz slumped onto the floor of her padded cell, shaking from the fear she’d felt inside him before Max pushed her out of his mind. She knew what he was trying to do, shield her from the horror of what was happening to him, but it only left her feeling more helpless than before.
Rising to her feet, her fear turned into anger. Her bare feet raced across the padded floor leaving brief indentations of her footprints behind her. She hurled herself at the sealed door, shouting words that no one could hear. No one was listening.
“ZAN!” she cried his name, pounding her fists against the soft walls. “I’ll do whatever you want! Whatever you say! Anything!” she sobbed, sliding down the wall, collapsing into a heap on the ground.
“Zan,” she whispered. “Please . . . If there’s one shred of humanity inside you, please don’t hurt him.”
* * * * *
Zan stood at the window in his temporary quarters, naked skin glistening in the dwindling sunlight. He looked out over the forlorn desert landscape, empty, barren, dead; even the birds didn’t fly through the air here. Dried up tumbleweed rolled listlessly with the breeze, without purpose, without destination, as lifeless as he felt.
Tess watched him from her position on the military cot, trying to cover herself with a rough olive green blanket, biting back a cry of pain when she moved. His assault had been relentless, overpowering, taking what he wanted, what he needed, what he demanded. The skin on her face burned from where his hand had held her down, covering her eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her. She knew the face he wanted to see wasn’t hers.
But she’d seen enough, looking up at him through the slits of his fingers, seeing his face contort with the effort, the strain of trying to feel something, anything, besides his unsatisfied desire for something he couldn’t have.
Had this really been what she once thought she wanted? A tough, ruthless leader who cowed to no one? Who made unwavering decisions, with authority and strength? Had she really been that blind?
She flinched when he moved, afraid he was going to come at her again, but he stayed in place, not turning from the window. She watched him raise his right hand, appearing to touch somewhere on his naked chest, but with his back to her she couldn’t see where. She wondered what he was doing.
Zan removed his right hand from the tattoo on his chest, revealing the resurrected swirling symbol of his homeworld. He moved his left hand to his right arm, feeling the warmth penetrate his skin as he restored the four square to his bicep, then another symbol to his forearm, before moving on to his hip. He replaced each tattoo that he’d previously removed, on his left arm, his shoulder, the small of his back, not even needing to see what he was doing. His skin knew how the tattoos felt. The swirls and lines.
The symbols of who he was, and what he was. Reminders of why he was here.
Tess watched the sunlight dance on his golden skin, shining with a sheen of sweat, muscles flexing with restless energy underneath the surface. He lowered his head and paused, with his hand pressed flat against his lower abdomen, below the indentation of his navel.
A minute of silence passed, and then another and another, before Tess got up the courage to ask, “Can I go?”
His head half turned, eyes cast downward, not lifting them to meet hers. She saw him draw in a breath to speak, and then pause, searching for the words, finally settling on a simple command.
“Go.”
She dressed quickly, throwing on just enough to cover herself, then grabbing the rest. On her way out she paused at the door, throwing a look at him over her shoulder, catching his reflection in the window. His eyes, that she once thought so cold and remote, now burned with emotion.
Loss and regret colored his face, things she’d hadn’t seen there before. And something else as well, something that gave her pause. She didn’t know how to respond to it. He’d hurt her. Used her. Caused her immense pain. But the look on his face.
Such utter loneliness.
For a brief moment she felt a pang of empathy for him, and then she opened the door and fled the room.
Zan heard the door close, leaving him alone in his isolation. He looked down at his abdomen, to the white rose tattoo he’d just engraved there, seared into his skin so he’d never forget Her. His finger touched his newly adorned flesh, tracing the curves of the petals, down the slim green stem to the thorns. His finger lingered, adding a droplet of blood to the design, a symbol of his wounds.
When he was done, he looked toward the door knowing it was time; he’d lingered here too long already. A mission needed completion. A message was waiting to tell him the next.
He dressed slowly with unnatural reserve, the first time in his life procrastinating, delaying the inevitable.
His Duty called, time to fulfill his obligations.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Echoes of Tomorrow
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Breathless
- Addicted Roswellian
- Posts: 254
- Joined: Tue Oct 09, 2001 4:58 pm
- Location: Somewhere in ficland
Author: Debbi aka Breathless
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 49
The echo of heavy footsteps clomping through the hallways mingled with the sound of derisive laughter, two miscreants celebrating the pain they had inflicted on their captive prey.
“Did ya hear him squeal when he hit the water?” Rath snorted. “What a lightweight! He ain’t got no balls at all. I couldda squished him like a bug.”
“Hard t’ believe him and Zan come from the same batch,” Lonnie jeered. “Oh! Stop! Don’t! Don’t!” she mimicked a terrified Max, flailing her arms around in the air. “How pathetic!”
“Maxie boy musta gone soft living with humans. Fucking ruined him. Zan should jus’ finish him off and be done with it.”
“In due time,” Lonnie turned a wicked eye on her partner in crime.
“Whadda ya mean by that?” Rath demanded, in typical slow witted fashion.
Lonnie came to a stop and let out an exasperated sigh. “Whadda ya think it means? The longer it takes him to complete this assignment, the worse it looks for him. He ain’t got no excuse for delayin’. When we take Zan out, we can say it was for the good o’ the mission. We gotta time this right –”
“I’m telling ya,” Rath cut her off, “that girl’s got him so fucked up, the time is now, while he’s distract–”
The soft click of a door closing caused Rath to spin around. Tess hastened to straighten her clothes, ignoring Rath’s lewd appraisal of her body.
Rath advanced on her slowly, smirking, “Well, if it ain’t Miss Kitty. Been in any good cat fights lately?”
“Screw you,” Tess pushed past him, regaining some of her haughty attitude. This guy wasn’t Zan. He wasn’t even close. She wasn’t going to be victimized by this two-bit thug.
“Say what?” Rath took a menacing step toward her, surprised and angered by her scathing look.
“Can’t you hear?” Tess shot back. “Are you deaf and dumb?”
“I’ll fuckin’ break your neck,” Rath lunged at her. Tess defended herself, hurling a bolt of energy in his direction. Rath blocked it, deflecting the energy toward the wall, blowing out a section of concrete and turning the gray wall black.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on!”
Rath, Lonnie, and Tess all turned to see Zan’s menacing presence commanding the hallway. He stood dressed head to toe in black leather; leather boots, leather pants molded to his skin, leather vest exposing the muscles of his chest. His face looked older now. Strained. A man marked by years of violence.
Rath noticed the change; the body language, the tattoos on his arms, the smoldering anger in his eyes. He shot a look toward Tess, and said, “Kitty here’s got claws.”
Zan surveyed the scene, Lonnie and Rath grouped together like usual, Tess standing defiantly a few feet away. She was starting to show a little spunk, the underlying fire that would have made her his equal if she’d been with him from the start. Would she be enough to sustain him now, without the one he wanted?
“Leave her alone,” Zan ordered, looking directly at Rath.
“The bitch pitched a blast at me–”
“I said, leave her alone!”
Rath glared at Zan, with his jaw clenching in rage. Lonnie stepped in to defuse the scene.
“Boys, boys. Let’s play nice.”
Rath backed down, knowing he couldn’t win a face to face confrontation with Zan. But one of these days –
“Go into town,” Zan ordered, moving down the hall toward the control room. “Bring back supplies. Food.”
“How much food?” Lonnie asked, falling in step behind him. Rath followed along reluctantly. “How long we gonna be here?”
“Awhile,” Zan answered vaguely. He felt her eyes on his back, silently questioning him, fueling his sense of irritation. He entered the control room, fighting the instant urge to go to the viewing panel, to feast his eyes on Her. Growing agitated, he focused on Lonnie and growled, “A day. A week. However long it takes!”
“Okay,” Lonnie capitulated. She knew when and where to pick her fights, and right now wasn’t one of them.
“Check on the others,” Zan continued dictating his orders. “Michael and Isabel. I want to know what they’re doing. Come back tomorrow with a full report.”
“What about her?” Rath glowered at Tess as she followed them into the room.
Tess felt the tension in the air, the challenge Rath was eager to pursue, the effort Lonnie exerted to hold him in line. The chinks in their armor were showing. She moved to Zan’s side, aligning with him, using herself as a wedge to widen the growing rift between them.
“She stays with me,” Zan mandated. His stance exuded authority, strength, a man quick to force his will, demanding compliance, yet underneath Tess felt something else as well. Protection. For her. Underneath his brutal exterior, quelled but not extinguished, lived a spark of something else.
Rath felt the heat of Zan’s stare, remembering all too vividly the pain that gaze could inflict. He yielded to Zan’s dominance, dismissing Tess for now.
“C’mon, Baby, let’s go,” Lonnie steered Rath out of the room, knowing when to push and when not to, and this was definitely not a time to push the boundaries with Zan. She could see it in the fevered intensity of his eyes.
When they were gone, Zan let out a sullen breath and moved away from Tess. His attention focused on the security monitors, and the lone tenant, sequestered in his prison.
* * * * *
Max crouched naked in the corner of his white room, knees drawn up to his chest, wet hair slicked back by hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. He covered his ears, trying to keep out the sounds of his nightmares.
“Tell me about the crash, Max.”
“What about the orb? The communicator?”
“Don’t make me kill you.”
He rocked back and forth, shivering from exhaustion and fear. His body hurt everywhere, bruised and battered from Rath’s and Lonnie’s assault, yet the physical injuries were minor compared to the torment going on in his head.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship? How we got here?”
“Why we were sent here?”
“What our Mission was? Is?”
Liz.
The Mission.
One of them sent to kill her. The other to protect her.
Which one was he?
* * * * *
“Philip!” Diane called out, setting four plates around the table. “Dinner’s ready!”
She went to the oven and removed the steaming Frittata, using a pair of pot holders so she wouldn’t get burned.
“Where’re the kids?” Philip asked, entering the room. He leaned over her shoulder to inhale the fragrant aroma, hoping it tasted as good.
“I haven’t seen them all day,” Diane set the hot dish on a trivet in the middle of the table. “Max was gone when I got up this morning, and Isabel raced off to meet him at the Crashdown for breakfast.” Looking up at her husband, she asked, “Don’t they seem to spend an awful lot of time there?”
Philip thought she looked a little wounded, and rushed to reassure her. “I don’t think the time they spend in the Crashdown has anything to do with the food.”
“What do you mean?”
Philip smiled at her puzzled face and kissed her on the forehead before taking a seat at the table.
“Max goes there for the scenery.”
“The scene – you mean . . . are you talking about . . .?”
She dropped into the chair across from him, folding a napkin across her lap.
“Liz Parker,” Philip nodded, dishing out the Frittata. He took a first bite and then quickly washed it down with a drink of cold milk. It was no wonder their kids used Tabasco sauce on everything.
“Max and Liz?” Diane gaped at him. “But I thought they were just biology partners.”
“Biology partners,” Philip pushed his food around on his plate. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Philip!” Diane looked shocked. “But he’s just seventeen.”
Philip reached over and covered her hand with his.
“Don’t you remember being seventeen?”
“Philip, you have to talk to him,” Diane rose to her feet, headed toward the phone.
With her back turned, Philip scraped his Frittata back into the dish.
* * * * *
“Mom, yes, I know, but,” Isabel spoke into her cell phone, trying to get a word in edgewise. “I’m sorry, we should have called . . . I know, yes . . . no, we love your cooking . . .”
Isabel wandered around the back room of the Crashdown, raking her hand back through her long hair. She might have been hiding secrets from her parents for years, but she still hated lying to them.
“No, Max isn’t here right now.” She shot a look at Michael, standing by the kitchen doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “He’s out with Michael . . . Doing? I don’t know. Doing guy stuff.”
Kyle tossed a ball toward the ceiling and then held his hand out, trying to make it freeze in the air. It reached its zenith and then fell toward the floor, gravity taking hold.
“Shit. Why can’t I do it now?” he grumbled, reaching for the red ball before it rolled away.
Alex grabbed it first and pitched it at his head. “Maybe you’re a one hit wonder.”
“Funny, Whitman,” Kyle caught the ball in mid air. “Just wait ‘til you start glowing.”
Isabel shushed them with an irritated look before turning back to the phone. “Liz? No, he’s not with Liz. Liz is,” she looked around wildly, trying to think of a believable lie. “Liz is here with us . . . Here? Um, we’re at the Crashdown . . . Who’s we? Me, and Liz, and Maria . . . you mean Tess?” She focused on Ava, sitting quietly in a chair across the room. “Tess is here, too . . . look, Mom, I’m going to stay here tonight . . . right,” she rolled her eyes, “a slumber party . . . Max? I think he’s staying at Michael’s . . . Here? No, he’s not coming here . . . Max and Liz? What about Max and Liz . . . Mom!” her mouth dropped open. “Max isn’t . . . Okay. Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay. Bye.”
Isabel disconnected her cell phone and collapsed onto the steps that led to the upstairs apartment.
“What a time for my mother to start worrying about Max’s sex life! GOD!”
* * * * *
Max shivered in a corner of his cell unable to get warm. The feel of the ice on his skin still lingered, the water in his mouth, his nose, choking him, drowning him, killing him. He could still feel their hands holding him down, long after they were gone.
“No!” he pushed up from the floor, forcing back the nightmare. He needed to be strong. To have faith. Michael and Isabel would come for him. Or Valenti. The Sheriff would come with his gun drawn and kill the monsters that were torturing him. And then they’d rescue Liz and be free . . . except, no one knew where they were.
He swung around and slammed his clenched fist against the white padded wall, shouting out his frustrations. “Isabel!”
Why hadn’t she come to him? She did it before, when Pierce held him captive here. But Pierce was human, and Zan wasn’t. Maybe Zan’s superior skills prevented Isabel from getting through. And if she couldn’t find him, how would they ever know he was here?
He turned around and slumped against the wall, shoulders sagging in defeat. His powers couldn’t get him out of here. Who would come for him next? Zan, with more torture of the mind, or Lonnie and Rath, slowly killing him and enjoying every minute? Who –
He bolted upright at the sound of an almost inaudible whoosh, from a sudden change in air pressure caused as the door slowly swung open. Someone was coming.
Trapped like an animal in a cage, exposed and helpless, he waited to see who it was.
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. Frustration gripped her, sensing Zan in the other room, preventing her from reaching out for Max again. She was afraid that he would know, somehow feel their connection forming, and then take it out on Max. She couldn’t risk that.
Her scientific mind wondered if her apparent connection to Zan was because, at least physiologically, he was identical to Max. The same blood flowed through his veins. The same DNA in his genes. The same brainwave patterns?
She wondered if Zan would be able to sense it if she tried to reach someone else, like Isabel or Michael. She thought about trying it now, but decided it would be better to wait, until she couldn’t feel Zan near anymore. She sensed it would be too dangerous to try it when he was so close.
“Hold on Max,” Liz whispered. “Don’t give up. We’ll get out of this. I promise.”
* * * * *
“Hey.”
Isabel startled at the voice, inhaling sharply and then letting out a long breath when she saw who it was. “Alex.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, climbing out the window onto Liz’s balcony. He’d been here a thousand times before, with Liz, and often with Maria, but never alone with Isabel. He wasn’t surprised to find her here, though; it was a good place to escape to when you needed to think.
“Yeah,” Isabel pulled her invisible cloak around her, but this time it wouldn’t work. She was practiced and skilled at hiding her emotions, but tonight she couldn’t hold them back. “No,” she sagged. “I’m not alright.”
“Isabel,” Alex stepped closer. He felt awkward, especially with his broken arm in a sling, but Isabel needed a friend, and he would do anything he could for her.
“You know,” Isabel said, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stave off the night chill. The waning moon hung in the air above them, casting them in its ghostly glow. “I always envied you.”
“Me?” Alex quirked an eyebrow. Geek central? Who would envy him?
“All of you,” Isabel turned to face him. “You. Liz. Maria. Max has been in love with Liz for years, so you’ve been on our radar. I’ve watched you. You’re like this team that can’t be separated.”
“The Three Musketeers,” Alex joked. “Kind of like you and Max and Michael.”
Isabel cocked her head and thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Me, Max, and Michael. You, Liz and Maria.” After a pause she murmured, “Two more and we’ll be whole.”
“What?” Alex cocked his head.
“What?” Isabel looked around. Why was Alex staring at her like that?
“What you just said. ‘Two more and we’ll be whole’. What does that mean?”
“I said that?” Isabel raked a shaky hand back through her hair.
“Yes,” Alex moved closer to her.
“I guess it just . . . came out.” Like buried memories, rising to the surface.
Alex studied Isabel’s face, her stance. Gone was the Ice Princess, the aloof Elle McPherson of the sophomore class. Before him stood a frightened girl, as human as he was. He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and turned to lead her to the window. “Let’s go back inside.”
* * * * *
Max held his breath as the door inched open, like a harbinger of doom. Who stood on the other side? Or what? Human or alien? Monster or Man?
He could charge the door; make a run for it, but what if there was an army on the other side? Getting himself killed wouldn’t help Liz, but staying trapped inside this cell wouldn’t either. His fractured psyche wavered between hiding in a corner and running for freedom.
He saw the hand first. Small. Female. Holding something green. Scrubs, he realized, feeling his stomach lurch. Green scrubs.
His body stood tense, rigid, pressing his back against the white wall behind him as she slipped soundlessly into the room. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Which one was she? Tess or Ava? Friend or foe? He faced her cupping his genitals with his hands to hide his exposure.
“Zan sent me,” she said, moving closer. Max moved a step back along the wall.
The sound of her voice told him nothing. Neither who she was, nor what she was here to do. She lifted her hand to hold the scrubs out to him, making him shrink back even further.
“You’re cold. Put these on so you don’t freeze.”
Her words, the tone of her voice gave him a brief flash of hope. Lonnie and Rath had no compassion when they spoke. But she was different.
“Ava?”
As he said the name he felt the flutter in his mind, the telltale signal he now recognized as the beginning of a mindwarp. It flashed over him quickly, a scene in the Crashdown, eating and laughing with friends. Another quick flash showed the eight of them all crammed in the eraser room together, her way of telling him who she really was.
“Tess?”
An almost imperceptible nod confirmed it. She darted a quick look at the ceiling in the far corner of the room, giving away nothing on her face. Max followed the look, seeing a camera revealed for an instant, and then it was gone, fading back into the white.
“Take these,” Tess tossed the scrubs to him. She wasn’t allowed to get too close. She turned back to the doorway, giving him privacy to dress.
“Wait!” Max called out as he scrambled into the scrub pants and pulled them up over his hips.
Tess stopped, keeping her back to the camera. “I can’t stay. He won’t let me.”
“Please,” Max took a step toward her, clutching the scrub top in his hand. “Liz? Can you tell me about Liz?”
Tess shook her head and uttered, “No.”
At the same time she sent him an image; of Liz in a cell exactly like this one, alive and appearing unhurt. The vision showed her sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, wearing a pair of scrubs just like his.
The flash ended too quickly, but it gave Max the reassurance he desperately needed. Zan hadn’t hurt Liz. At least not yet, if he could believe what Tess was showing him.
“Tess–”
She whirled around to face him, letting her eyes flick to the hidden camera once again. “I can’t talk to you.”
She backed out the door without saying another word, leaving Max locked in his white world. But as she left she sent him a final vision, an image for him to hold on to, of a golden sun warming his skin, green grass soft beneath his feet, walking hand in hand with Liz under a glorious blue sky. A vision of freedom.
For the first time since his arrival here he had a reason to hope.
Author note: Friday I’ll be leaving on a business trip, so no update next weekend. I’ll be back in two weeks with the next update.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past
Category: Max and Liz, CC/UC
Rating: PG 13 to NC 17
The mythology of this story is different than the show. Max and company (Zan and his cohorts too) did NOT live previous lives. Max was never a KING. Tess was never his WIFE. Isabel wasn’t a PRINCESS.
From Sexual Healing:
“What are you doing here, Max?”
“Well, I have orders from my planet. To take over the Earth.”
Aftermath
Part 49
The echo of heavy footsteps clomping through the hallways mingled with the sound of derisive laughter, two miscreants celebrating the pain they had inflicted on their captive prey.
“Did ya hear him squeal when he hit the water?” Rath snorted. “What a lightweight! He ain’t got no balls at all. I couldda squished him like a bug.”
“Hard t’ believe him and Zan come from the same batch,” Lonnie jeered. “Oh! Stop! Don’t! Don’t!” she mimicked a terrified Max, flailing her arms around in the air. “How pathetic!”
“Maxie boy musta gone soft living with humans. Fucking ruined him. Zan should jus’ finish him off and be done with it.”
“In due time,” Lonnie turned a wicked eye on her partner in crime.
“Whadda ya mean by that?” Rath demanded, in typical slow witted fashion.
Lonnie came to a stop and let out an exasperated sigh. “Whadda ya think it means? The longer it takes him to complete this assignment, the worse it looks for him. He ain’t got no excuse for delayin’. When we take Zan out, we can say it was for the good o’ the mission. We gotta time this right –”
“I’m telling ya,” Rath cut her off, “that girl’s got him so fucked up, the time is now, while he’s distract–”
The soft click of a door closing caused Rath to spin around. Tess hastened to straighten her clothes, ignoring Rath’s lewd appraisal of her body.
Rath advanced on her slowly, smirking, “Well, if it ain’t Miss Kitty. Been in any good cat fights lately?”
“Screw you,” Tess pushed past him, regaining some of her haughty attitude. This guy wasn’t Zan. He wasn’t even close. She wasn’t going to be victimized by this two-bit thug.
“Say what?” Rath took a menacing step toward her, surprised and angered by her scathing look.
“Can’t you hear?” Tess shot back. “Are you deaf and dumb?”
“I’ll fuckin’ break your neck,” Rath lunged at her. Tess defended herself, hurling a bolt of energy in his direction. Rath blocked it, deflecting the energy toward the wall, blowing out a section of concrete and turning the gray wall black.
“What the fuck’s goin’ on!”
Rath, Lonnie, and Tess all turned to see Zan’s menacing presence commanding the hallway. He stood dressed head to toe in black leather; leather boots, leather pants molded to his skin, leather vest exposing the muscles of his chest. His face looked older now. Strained. A man marked by years of violence.
Rath noticed the change; the body language, the tattoos on his arms, the smoldering anger in his eyes. He shot a look toward Tess, and said, “Kitty here’s got claws.”
Zan surveyed the scene, Lonnie and Rath grouped together like usual, Tess standing defiantly a few feet away. She was starting to show a little spunk, the underlying fire that would have made her his equal if she’d been with him from the start. Would she be enough to sustain him now, without the one he wanted?
“Leave her alone,” Zan ordered, looking directly at Rath.
“The bitch pitched a blast at me–”
“I said, leave her alone!”
Rath glared at Zan, with his jaw clenching in rage. Lonnie stepped in to defuse the scene.
“Boys, boys. Let’s play nice.”
Rath backed down, knowing he couldn’t win a face to face confrontation with Zan. But one of these days –
“Go into town,” Zan ordered, moving down the hall toward the control room. “Bring back supplies. Food.”
“How much food?” Lonnie asked, falling in step behind him. Rath followed along reluctantly. “How long we gonna be here?”
“Awhile,” Zan answered vaguely. He felt her eyes on his back, silently questioning him, fueling his sense of irritation. He entered the control room, fighting the instant urge to go to the viewing panel, to feast his eyes on Her. Growing agitated, he focused on Lonnie and growled, “A day. A week. However long it takes!”
“Okay,” Lonnie capitulated. She knew when and where to pick her fights, and right now wasn’t one of them.
“Check on the others,” Zan continued dictating his orders. “Michael and Isabel. I want to know what they’re doing. Come back tomorrow with a full report.”
“What about her?” Rath glowered at Tess as she followed them into the room.
Tess felt the tension in the air, the challenge Rath was eager to pursue, the effort Lonnie exerted to hold him in line. The chinks in their armor were showing. She moved to Zan’s side, aligning with him, using herself as a wedge to widen the growing rift between them.
“She stays with me,” Zan mandated. His stance exuded authority, strength, a man quick to force his will, demanding compliance, yet underneath Tess felt something else as well. Protection. For her. Underneath his brutal exterior, quelled but not extinguished, lived a spark of something else.
Rath felt the heat of Zan’s stare, remembering all too vividly the pain that gaze could inflict. He yielded to Zan’s dominance, dismissing Tess for now.
“C’mon, Baby, let’s go,” Lonnie steered Rath out of the room, knowing when to push and when not to, and this was definitely not a time to push the boundaries with Zan. She could see it in the fevered intensity of his eyes.
When they were gone, Zan let out a sullen breath and moved away from Tess. His attention focused on the security monitors, and the lone tenant, sequestered in his prison.
* * * * *
Max crouched naked in the corner of his white room, knees drawn up to his chest, wet hair slicked back by hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. He covered his ears, trying to keep out the sounds of his nightmares.
“Tell me about the crash, Max.”
“What about the orb? The communicator?”
“Don’t make me kill you.”
He rocked back and forth, shivering from exhaustion and fear. His body hurt everywhere, bruised and battered from Rath’s and Lonnie’s assault, yet the physical injuries were minor compared to the torment going on in his head.
“Do you remember what we saw on the ship? How we got here?”
“Why we were sent here?”
“What our Mission was? Is?”
Liz.
The Mission.
One of them sent to kill her. The other to protect her.
Which one was he?
* * * * *
“Philip!” Diane called out, setting four plates around the table. “Dinner’s ready!”
She went to the oven and removed the steaming Frittata, using a pair of pot holders so she wouldn’t get burned.
“Where’re the kids?” Philip asked, entering the room. He leaned over her shoulder to inhale the fragrant aroma, hoping it tasted as good.
“I haven’t seen them all day,” Diane set the hot dish on a trivet in the middle of the table. “Max was gone when I got up this morning, and Isabel raced off to meet him at the Crashdown for breakfast.” Looking up at her husband, she asked, “Don’t they seem to spend an awful lot of time there?”
Philip thought she looked a little wounded, and rushed to reassure her. “I don’t think the time they spend in the Crashdown has anything to do with the food.”
“What do you mean?”
Philip smiled at her puzzled face and kissed her on the forehead before taking a seat at the table.
“Max goes there for the scenery.”
“The scene – you mean . . . are you talking about . . .?”
She dropped into the chair across from him, folding a napkin across her lap.
“Liz Parker,” Philip nodded, dishing out the Frittata. He took a first bite and then quickly washed it down with a drink of cold milk. It was no wonder their kids used Tabasco sauce on everything.
“Max and Liz?” Diane gaped at him. “But I thought they were just biology partners.”
“Biology partners,” Philip pushed his food around on his plate. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Philip!” Diane looked shocked. “But he’s just seventeen.”
Philip reached over and covered her hand with his.
“Don’t you remember being seventeen?”
“Philip, you have to talk to him,” Diane rose to her feet, headed toward the phone.
With her back turned, Philip scraped his Frittata back into the dish.
* * * * *
“Mom, yes, I know, but,” Isabel spoke into her cell phone, trying to get a word in edgewise. “I’m sorry, we should have called . . . I know, yes . . . no, we love your cooking . . .”
Isabel wandered around the back room of the Crashdown, raking her hand back through her long hair. She might have been hiding secrets from her parents for years, but she still hated lying to them.
“No, Max isn’t here right now.” She shot a look at Michael, standing by the kitchen doorway with his arms folded across his chest. “He’s out with Michael . . . Doing? I don’t know. Doing guy stuff.”
Kyle tossed a ball toward the ceiling and then held his hand out, trying to make it freeze in the air. It reached its zenith and then fell toward the floor, gravity taking hold.
“Shit. Why can’t I do it now?” he grumbled, reaching for the red ball before it rolled away.
Alex grabbed it first and pitched it at his head. “Maybe you’re a one hit wonder.”
“Funny, Whitman,” Kyle caught the ball in mid air. “Just wait ‘til you start glowing.”
Isabel shushed them with an irritated look before turning back to the phone. “Liz? No, he’s not with Liz. Liz is,” she looked around wildly, trying to think of a believable lie. “Liz is here with us . . . Here? Um, we’re at the Crashdown . . . Who’s we? Me, and Liz, and Maria . . . you mean Tess?” She focused on Ava, sitting quietly in a chair across the room. “Tess is here, too . . . look, Mom, I’m going to stay here tonight . . . right,” she rolled her eyes, “a slumber party . . . Max? I think he’s staying at Michael’s . . . Here? No, he’s not coming here . . . Max and Liz? What about Max and Liz . . . Mom!” her mouth dropped open. “Max isn’t . . . Okay. Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay. Bye.”
Isabel disconnected her cell phone and collapsed onto the steps that led to the upstairs apartment.
“What a time for my mother to start worrying about Max’s sex life! GOD!”
* * * * *
Max shivered in a corner of his cell unable to get warm. The feel of the ice on his skin still lingered, the water in his mouth, his nose, choking him, drowning him, killing him. He could still feel their hands holding him down, long after they were gone.
“No!” he pushed up from the floor, forcing back the nightmare. He needed to be strong. To have faith. Michael and Isabel would come for him. Or Valenti. The Sheriff would come with his gun drawn and kill the monsters that were torturing him. And then they’d rescue Liz and be free . . . except, no one knew where they were.
He swung around and slammed his clenched fist against the white padded wall, shouting out his frustrations. “Isabel!”
Why hadn’t she come to him? She did it before, when Pierce held him captive here. But Pierce was human, and Zan wasn’t. Maybe Zan’s superior skills prevented Isabel from getting through. And if she couldn’t find him, how would they ever know he was here?
He turned around and slumped against the wall, shoulders sagging in defeat. His powers couldn’t get him out of here. Who would come for him next? Zan, with more torture of the mind, or Lonnie and Rath, slowly killing him and enjoying every minute? Who –
He bolted upright at the sound of an almost inaudible whoosh, from a sudden change in air pressure caused as the door slowly swung open. Someone was coming.
Trapped like an animal in a cage, exposed and helpless, he waited to see who it was.
* * * * *
Liz sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees. Frustration gripped her, sensing Zan in the other room, preventing her from reaching out for Max again. She was afraid that he would know, somehow feel their connection forming, and then take it out on Max. She couldn’t risk that.
Her scientific mind wondered if her apparent connection to Zan was because, at least physiologically, he was identical to Max. The same blood flowed through his veins. The same DNA in his genes. The same brainwave patterns?
She wondered if Zan would be able to sense it if she tried to reach someone else, like Isabel or Michael. She thought about trying it now, but decided it would be better to wait, until she couldn’t feel Zan near anymore. She sensed it would be too dangerous to try it when he was so close.
“Hold on Max,” Liz whispered. “Don’t give up. We’ll get out of this. I promise.”
* * * * *
“Hey.”
Isabel startled at the voice, inhaling sharply and then letting out a long breath when she saw who it was. “Alex.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, climbing out the window onto Liz’s balcony. He’d been here a thousand times before, with Liz, and often with Maria, but never alone with Isabel. He wasn’t surprised to find her here, though; it was a good place to escape to when you needed to think.
“Yeah,” Isabel pulled her invisible cloak around her, but this time it wouldn’t work. She was practiced and skilled at hiding her emotions, but tonight she couldn’t hold them back. “No,” she sagged. “I’m not alright.”
“Isabel,” Alex stepped closer. He felt awkward, especially with his broken arm in a sling, but Isabel needed a friend, and he would do anything he could for her.
“You know,” Isabel said, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to stave off the night chill. The waning moon hung in the air above them, casting them in its ghostly glow. “I always envied you.”
“Me?” Alex quirked an eyebrow. Geek central? Who would envy him?
“All of you,” Isabel turned to face him. “You. Liz. Maria. Max has been in love with Liz for years, so you’ve been on our radar. I’ve watched you. You’re like this team that can’t be separated.”
“The Three Musketeers,” Alex joked. “Kind of like you and Max and Michael.”
Isabel cocked her head and thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Me, Max, and Michael. You, Liz and Maria.” After a pause she murmured, “Two more and we’ll be whole.”
“What?” Alex cocked his head.
“What?” Isabel looked around. Why was Alex staring at her like that?
“What you just said. ‘Two more and we’ll be whole’. What does that mean?”
“I said that?” Isabel raked a shaky hand back through her hair.
“Yes,” Alex moved closer to her.
“I guess it just . . . came out.” Like buried memories, rising to the surface.
Alex studied Isabel’s face, her stance. Gone was the Ice Princess, the aloof Elle McPherson of the sophomore class. Before him stood a frightened girl, as human as he was. He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and turned to lead her to the window. “Let’s go back inside.”
* * * * *
Max held his breath as the door inched open, like a harbinger of doom. Who stood on the other side? Or what? Human or alien? Monster or Man?
He could charge the door; make a run for it, but what if there was an army on the other side? Getting himself killed wouldn’t help Liz, but staying trapped inside this cell wouldn’t either. His fractured psyche wavered between hiding in a corner and running for freedom.
He saw the hand first. Small. Female. Holding something green. Scrubs, he realized, feeling his stomach lurch. Green scrubs.
His body stood tense, rigid, pressing his back against the white wall behind him as she slipped soundlessly into the room. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Which one was she? Tess or Ava? Friend or foe? He faced her cupping his genitals with his hands to hide his exposure.
“Zan sent me,” she said, moving closer. Max moved a step back along the wall.
The sound of her voice told him nothing. Neither who she was, nor what she was here to do. She lifted her hand to hold the scrubs out to him, making him shrink back even further.
“You’re cold. Put these on so you don’t freeze.”
Her words, the tone of her voice gave him a brief flash of hope. Lonnie and Rath had no compassion when they spoke. But she was different.
“Ava?”
As he said the name he felt the flutter in his mind, the telltale signal he now recognized as the beginning of a mindwarp. It flashed over him quickly, a scene in the Crashdown, eating and laughing with friends. Another quick flash showed the eight of them all crammed in the eraser room together, her way of telling him who she really was.
“Tess?”
An almost imperceptible nod confirmed it. She darted a quick look at the ceiling in the far corner of the room, giving away nothing on her face. Max followed the look, seeing a camera revealed for an instant, and then it was gone, fading back into the white.
“Take these,” Tess tossed the scrubs to him. She wasn’t allowed to get too close. She turned back to the doorway, giving him privacy to dress.
“Wait!” Max called out as he scrambled into the scrub pants and pulled them up over his hips.
Tess stopped, keeping her back to the camera. “I can’t stay. He won’t let me.”
“Please,” Max took a step toward her, clutching the scrub top in his hand. “Liz? Can you tell me about Liz?”
Tess shook her head and uttered, “No.”
At the same time she sent him an image; of Liz in a cell exactly like this one, alive and appearing unhurt. The vision showed her sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, wearing a pair of scrubs just like his.
The flash ended too quickly, but it gave Max the reassurance he desperately needed. Zan hadn’t hurt Liz. At least not yet, if he could believe what Tess was showing him.
“Tess–”
She whirled around to face him, letting her eyes flick to the hidden camera once again. “I can’t talk to you.”
She backed out the door without saying another word, leaving Max locked in his white world. But as she left she sent him a final vision, an image for him to hold on to, of a golden sun warming his skin, green grass soft beneath his feet, walking hand in hand with Liz under a glorious blue sky. A vision of freedom.
For the first time since his arrival here he had a reason to hope.
Author note: Friday I’ll be leaving on a business trip, so no update next weekend. I’ll be back in two weeks with the next update.
Here’s the links to a few of my other stories:
Maxeo and Lizziet
Captive Hearts
A Walk in the Park
Downfall
Pieces of the Past