To Have & To Hold (CC,M/L,ADULT) Pt 72 - AN 11/4/04 [WIP

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Pathos
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To Have & To Hold (CC,M/L,ADULT) Pt 72 - AN 11/4/04 [WIP

Post by Pathos »

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Title: To Have & To Hold
Author: Pathos
Rating: ADULT
Disclaimer: I don't own any, anything - it all belongs to people who don't deserve it.
Authors Note/Summary: This story has been stuck in my head since the finale so I finally decided to just write it down and get it out there. It's sort of my way of fixing some of the things that drove me nuts the last two years of the show. Starting with the fact that Max and Liz suddenly forgot how to have a conversation! (LOL)

I'm something of a technological quaker so I'm just gonna pray this works...Hope you like, let me know what you think...

Hey all -

Just a quick A/N before we get to the good stuff... :wink:

First of all - absolutely LOVING the new board. Thank God our PTB are better than the shows! :D

And secondly, I wanted to thank everyone for all the great FB after the last part. Didn't quite get to copy everything before the move so no individual replies this time but I wanted to let ya'll know that all your kind words and bumps and...gentle persuasion ( :) ) is truly appreciated.

The link for parts 1-59 is here: http://www.roswellfanatics.net/archive/ ... 63577.html

and as for Part 60...see below.

Enjoy and I'll see ya soon!

Pathos
Last edited by Pathos on Thu Nov 04, 2004 12:14 pm, edited 25 times in total.
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

*************Part 60****************

Max stood uneasily in the middle of the room looking from the pile of suitcases stacked in front of the toybox to his son, who stood hovering in the doorway. Liz had led Xan to the bedroom and then gently let go of his hand. He’d seemed somewhat surprised when he realized that she intended to leave him there. But Liz had softly reassured him that she would be right down the hall if he needed her, smiling a little as she teased Xan that she’d be done before he could miss her. Then she’d headed from the room, leaving the two of them alone. A move which, after a few minutes of silent contemplation, Max had come to believe was probably a mistake. And, as if to add to the sudden tension, he could hear Maria arguing softly with Michael about whether or not they should leave.

‘It’s rude to just leave without saying goodbye.’ Maria muttered dismissively.

‘I don’t think they’ll give a d…’

‘Shhh! And anyway, I haven’t seen Liz in over a week. She almost died, Michael. And besides they’re going to need help getting everything set up now that Xan’s here. Did you see the look in Max’s face…’

‘Maria…’


Max could hear the exasperation in Michael’s voice and the defeated sigh which announced his decision to let this particular argument go before it got started. Max echoed his sigh. How come no one seemed to care that he hadn’t seen Liz in over a week, he wondered moodily. She was his wife, after all. The sudden rise in Xan’s anxiety level brought him back to himself and he quickly refocused on his son.

Though Max had felt Xan’s sudden uneasiness the moment Liz had left his sight, it seemed to Max that Xan felt less like he was afraid and more like he was anxious, uncertain about what was expected of him. Thankfully, Max could also feel Liz soothing the little boy, reinforcing both the fact that he was safe and that she was there for him. Max was fairly certain that was about the only thing keeping Xan in the room. Watching Xan fidget in the doorway, Max figured he wouldn’t be completely calm until Liz was back in sight. Unfortunately, Max was beginning to feel like he wouldn’t be calm again until Liz was back in sight. He tried to ignore his own slight panic but he couldn’t seem to shake the realization that without Liz there as a bridge, he had no idea how to approach his own son. He felt like he’d suddenly been handed a pop quiz, written in a language he’d never seen, that was due in the next 15 seconds. He’d faced down men with guns and been less concerned about the possibility of failure.

Chewing his lower lip thoughtfully, Max stared down at his little boy. Xan stared back, eyes wide while he studied Max cautiously between glances down the hall at the closed bathroom door. The silence permeated the room, punctuating the uncomfortable staring contest and with a start, Max realized that they had inadvertently become locked in an odd imitation of a Mexican standoff. No wonder Xan was uncomfortable! “Ok, pal, let’s get you dressed.” Max said, quickly summoning what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Xan shrugged. “Kay.” He said, still backed firmly against the door frame.

“Yeah.” Max agreed with a nod, still unable to convince himself to move. Ok, Evans. This is ridiculous, he’s four. What’s he gonna do? Max was oddly grateful for the sudden, none to gentle, mental shove Liz sent through their connection when she felt Xan’s anxiety begin to rise even more. Taking a deep, calming breath Max reminded himself that Xan was four years old, a child, while he was a grown man. An adult. A mature adult…who had yet to take one step in the direction of his son. “Right. Ok, here’s the thing, pal. I’ve never helped a kid get dressed before.” From the look on Xan’s face, Max figured his son had no trouble believing that. Smiling to cover his nervousness, he continued. “So if I do anything…you know, wrong, just let me know and then, well, then we’ll fix it. Ok?”

Xan nodded slowly, wondering why Max was so nervous. Liz was never nervous. He looked out the door and down the hall, once again. From where he stood in the doorway he could see the closed bathroom door and hear the water running in the shower. Liz had said that if he needed to he could come get her, but he could feel that she wanted him to stay with Max. Biting his lip a little Xan turned back to watch him.

Max took another deep, bracing breath and forced another smile as he dropped the suitcase onto Xan’s bed. “Right. Ok, here goes.” Ok, how hard could this be? It’s not like he’d never seen clothes before. Hell, he got himself dressed every morning. Xan’s clothes were just…smaller. He opened the suitcase with a sharp click and blinked. “Jesus, did they buy out the entire store?” Max muttered, staring down at the myriad of neatly folded clothes.

Xan felt the tightness in his chest ease a bit with Max’s easy smile. Craning his neck around the tail of his plane bed, he tried to see which suitcase Max had opened. “I tink so.” Xan replied, taking an uncertain step away from the door.

Max smile became less forced as he noted his son’s progress from the corner of his eye. Maybe if he relaxed Xan would simply follow suit. “Let’s see what we’ve got here…” A few minutes later, Max’s brow was knit in confusion. He pulled out the remaining contents of the suitcase and dumped them on the bed. Sweaters? “I think a sweater is a little hot for the summer, pal, don’t you?”

“Uh huh.” Xan agreed, shuffling closer and watching the way Max dumped the clothes all over the bed, burying his jet which had been laying in the middle of it.

Max held up a sweater, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to size something against a child who was still halfway across the room. “And this looks a little big to me, too.” He murmured.

“I’m s’posed to gwow into ‘em.”

O-kay. Max shook his head a little bit at that response and then turned back to the row of unopened suitcases. “Makes sense, I guess.” He replied, grabbing two more cases and opening them on the bed.

Xan shrugged. “I guess.” He stepped closer, resting an elbow on the tail of his plane bed to peer curiously at the contents of the next two suitcases.

Max burrowed through the luggage he’d just opened. Sweatshirts, wool pants…sighing, he held a pair of the pants up against Xan’s body. “Same thing, huh?” He asked, feeling ridiculously pleased that Xan had moved to stand next to him. He glanced down at his son and felt his spirit lighten even more when he saw that the wariness was fading quickly from Xan’s features, leaving an open, if slightly shy expression in its place.

Xan nodded. “Uh huh.” He replied, answering Max’s question as he moved forward to help search through the huge case. He sighed his frustration. “Nothin’ to weawr in dewre.”

“You’re a poet and you don’t even know it.” Max quipped, reaching out to tickle Xan’s side gently. He grinned as his son giggled under the light pressure of his fingers.

“Wha’s dat mean?” Xan asked, still smiling as he and Max turned to look at the remaining suitcases.

Max shook his head somewhat self consciously. “Just something my father used to say.” He explained. “Actually, I never really understood why he said it, either.” Max added, bemused. It had always seemed like the oddest thing to say and he didn’t think he’d ever used it before in his life. With a quick mental shake he responded to Xan’s expectant expression. “Let’s see what else we’ve got…”

“Kay.”

Max let out a sigh once the cover of their latest case fell back. Winter coats, windbreakers, fall jackets… “Ok, do you think there are any clothes that actually fit you now?” He asked, holding up a coat that was obviously too big.

Xan nodded. “Dey’wre hewre somewhewre.” He looked up at Max. “I had to twy dem on.” Glancing at the clothes now stacked haphazardly on the bed he continued. “I had to twy dem all on.”

Max grinned at the disgust he heard in his son’s voice. “Everything?”

“Uh huh. Dey made me.” Xan muttered.

“Who made you?” Max asked, unable to stop his chuckle at the annoyed expression on Xan’s face.

“Liz an’ Mewr’dit..”

Max nodded his understanding. “I see. Well, we’re bound to get to summer stuff soon, right?”

“I hope so.” Xan agreed fervently.

“Me too.” Max replied absently, his eyes suddenly drawn to the open closet and the clothes that Xan had worn yesterday, resting neatly in his dirty laundry basket.

Xan followed Max’s gaze. “Dey’wre aweady found.” He pointed out.

“Yeah.” Max said, winking conspiratorially at Xan. Then he paused. “Think Liz would notice?”

Xan shoulders slumped in defeat. “Yeah.”

Max sighed. “Next…” He reached for the second to last suitcase and opened it quickly, refusing to get his hopes up. “Hey, I think we got something…” Max said, holding up a pair of sneakers.

Xan shook his head. “I got dose.” He pointed out, nodding at the pair of shoes resting under his bed. Seeing Max’s face fall he offered “But I could weawr dem anyway…”

Max shook his head. “That’s ok. Hey, look what we’ve got under the…what could you possibly need 6 pairs of sneakers for?”

Xan rolled his eyes. “I’m s’posed to go thwew dem like cwazy.” He paused to think for a second. “An’ I tink maybe I got to gwow…”

“Grow into some.” Max finished. “Right. But, look, here’s stuff you can wear now.”

Xan looked into the suitcase and grinned. “Yep.” He climbed onto the bed, unmindful of the clothes that slid off in his wake, and sorted through the jeans and t-shirts that were in the case. He picked out one of each and then he turned to Max, frowning. “I still need undewrweawr. And socks.”

Max sighed heavily. “You sure tried on a lot of stuff, pal.”

“Uh huh. I don’ tink I evewr gotta twy stuff on again.” Xan replied earnestly.

Max smiled. “What about when you get bigger?”

Xan looked at Max askance. Hadn’t he been paying attention? “I got stuff to gwow into. ‘Membewr?”

-------------------------------

Twenty minutes later Max found himself studying his son critically. “Ok. Underwear…”

“Check.” Xan piped up.

“Jeans, t-shirt…”

“Check, check.” Xan blurted before covering his mouth with both hands so that his laughter couldn’t get out. Max had said that this was serious, he wanted to make sure that everything was right so that Liz didn’t think he was an idiot. Of course, he’d said it with a smile so Xan figured he was teasing.

Max chuckled at Xan’s giggled response before smoothing his features once more into a serious expression. “You’ve got socks, your face is clean, we brushed your hair…” He paused to look at his son one last time. “I’d have to say…”

“I’m all dwessed.” Xan concluded happily.

“Yes you are.” Max smiled down at his son. “We make a pretty good team, don’t you think?” If Xan heard the slight wistfulness of the question, he didn’t show it. Instead he just nodded his easy agreement. Unwilling to lose their sudden rapport, Max glanced around the room, searching for something to keep them occupied. “Hey, what about showing me how you fly your plane now. You promised, remember?”

Xan nodded, but his brow furrowed as he searched the room. “Whewre is my plane?” He asked, his arms spread in a gesture of futility that encompassed the mess of clothes which covered the bed and surrounding portions of the floor.

Max turned to look at the toybox and then the shelf where the WW II biplane rested…nope, they hadn’t been smart enough to move it before they began to unpack the clothes. He turned back to stare, a little uneasily, at the mountain of clothes on the bed. “It was on the bed, wasn’t it?” He replied uncertainly.

“Wight!” Xan climbed up onto his plane bed, more clothing falling to the floor as he dug through the pile to find his jet. “Got it.” He announced triumphantly, pulling his plane from the pile and holding it up.

Max watched Xan slide from the bed in a cascade of more clothes. His son scowled in brief annoyance when he noticed the sock that had gotten tangled in his planes landing gear but then he simply freed it, and let it float to the ground. Where, Max decided outrageously, several hundred of its mates already resided.

“Watch dis.” Xan said, launching his plane easily into the air.

Max blinked. The ease with which Xan controlled the jet’s flight surprised him. He certainly hadn’t had that kind of control when he was Xan’s age. Of course, he mused silently, he’d never been Xan’s age.

Xan glanced uncertainly back at Max when silence was the only response to his show. He relaxed though when he realized that Max wasn’t angry or upset. Instead, he seemed genuinely impressed with his talent. Concentrating, he brought the plane to an easy, gliding standstill at his feet. “I coul’ do more at Mistewr Langley’s” Xan said “Cuz he had biggewr ceilin’s.”

Shaking himself out of his surprise, Max applauded lightly. “I bet you could. That’s really cool, Xan.” Suddenly inspired, he turned and reached for the biplane on the shelf behind them. “Let’s see how I do…”

“You’wre gonna twy?” Xan asked uncertainly

Max nodded. “I think I could do it.” He replied gently.

“Cuz you got magic hands?” Xan guessed, blinking in surprise when Max lifted the plane into the air and then lowered his hand. The plane drifted in mid air, wings teetering slightly. “You can make people bettewr and fly a plane?” Xan blurted.

Max hesitated for a moment and then nodded. That was one more explanation he’d have to figure out how to give. Later. “Uh huh. Now what…”

“Can Liz do odder stuff?” Xan asked, his voice surprising serious as he studied Max. Max didn’t seem to be upset about what he could do. And he knew Liz wasn’t upset about what she could do. And neither one of them were upset about what he could do…

“Um, yeah. She can do some other stuff.” Max replied lightly, almost holding his breath in the hope that Xan wasn’t about to ask ‘what’. How did you explain seeing the future to a four year old? Max’s brows rose in surprise when Xan nodded at him, his expression a mask of oddly adult contemplation.

“I wanna do odder stuff, too.” Xan announced cautiously. Now that he needed her, he could feel Liz’s presence more strongly than he had been over the last few minutes. She may as well have been right there, rubbing his back and telling him it was going to be ok. He relaxed more fully as he studied Max’s reaction to his decision. Max looked surprised but he didn’t look at all upset. Xan nodded again to show that he was serious. He was surrounded by people who could do what he did. And more. The sudden sense of belonging brought with it an emotion he couldn’t name, but it was warm and safe and that was all that mattered.

“Um, well, ok…” Good answer, Evans, Max chided himself. But how the hell had they gotten on this topic of conversation? He cleared his throat and pulled himself together at Xan’s expectant expression. Casually dropping a hand onto his son’s head, Max ruffled his hair affectionately. “You’ll be able to do more stuff when you get bigger.” He assured him.

Xan rolled his eyes. “Dat’s wha’ gwown ups always say.” He grumbled

Max nodded seriously, ignoring the urge to grin at Xan’s disgruntled expression. “I know, pal, but sometimes that’s the truth. Er…Ok, so now that it’s hovering…” he hinted, nodding at his plane and hoping to get Xan’s mind off this particular topic. It was a little soon for the ‘you’ll grow into you alien powers’ speech.

Xan blinked when he saw Max’s plane still hovering patiently in the air. “Oh…you jus’ gotta push it.” He instructed seriously, one hand moving through the air in illustration, while he held his jet securely in the other.

“Ok.” Relieved to be moving away from their previous topic, Max scrunched up his face in exaggerated concentration, pushing with his hand as Xan told him to, but holding the plane completely still with his power.

Xan giggled at the expression on Max’s face. “Nuh-uh.” He climbed up onto the bed, clutching his jet in one hand, and then stood up and reached for Max’s hand, trying to mold his fingers into the right position. “You gotta…just push it thwew da…” He sighed, uncertain how to explain exactly how he got his planes to fly. “Like dis.” He said, launching his jet into the air. “You can do it.” Xan encouraged when Max didn’t move to get his plane flying.

Wow. Max watched with more than a little parental pride as Xan once again launched his plane easily at the ceiling. Glancing at his son, who was looking expectantly from his face to the plane hovering over his hand, Max nodded his understanding. And promptly pushed his biplane into a gentle nose dive to land at Xan’s feet on the bed.

Xan laughed, bringing his own plane to rest next to the two winged one. “You need mowre woom.” He announced, once he’d gotten his giggles under control.

“Is that my problem?” Max asked, smiling at his son and glad that he’d opted to make Xan laugh rather than impress him with any flying prowess.

Xan nodded seriously. “Cuz you’wr a buginnewr.” He placed a hand on Max’s shoulder. “When I was little I needed lots a woom, too. But now…” Xan bent and lifted his plane into the air, circling it against the ceiling and then moving it into a graceful roll. He heard Max’s low whistle and when he glanced over at his face for his reaction, he felt his chest puff out a little with pride. Max looked even more impressed. He brought the plane in for a landing once again and then looked at Max. “You jus’ need pwactice.”

Max glanced around the room at the mess and then back to his son. “Why don’t we practice in the living room now and clean, later?” He asked, holding out his hand to help Xan down from the bed.

Xan studied the mess for a second and then smiled. He would much rather play than clean, he thought, and reached for Max’s hand, steadying himself as he jumped from the bed. “Kay.” He agreed, leaving his hand resting comfortably within Max’s strong one as they headed for the living room.

Max was happily surprised that Xan didn’t pull away as soon as his feet hit the floor. Another strong thread of contentment slid tightly around his heart when his son grasped his fingers even more tightly and began to pull him from the room for their first flying lesson. “Think I’ll be as good as you when we’re done practicing?” Max asked quietly.

“Maybe not as good as me.” Xan replied with childlike condescension. “But if you pwactice lots an’ lots…maybe you could be almos’ as good as me.”

Biting back his grin Max nodded with mock gravity. “Gotcha, pal. Lots and lots of practice.” He said, grabbing the biplane with his free hand. He glanced at Xan’s jet but he was unwilling to drop his son’s hand in order to grab that as well so he reached out with his power, pulling it along beside them as they headed into the hallway. He took a deep breath as a myriad of memories rose easily to his minds’ eye. He and Isabel walking hand in hand down a dark highway. The first time Liz had placed her hand so trustingly in his own, making a choice he still wasn’t sure he understood. Michael’s strong, desperate grip the only time he’d ever really reached out to him for safety. And now his son, the way Xan’s small hand was completely engulfed by his own. It was odd, Max mused silently, the strangely minute details of his life which he considered so significant. With a mental shake of his head he pulled himself back to the present.

And all hell broke loose.
Last edited by Pathos on Tue Feb 25, 2003 3:26 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

************Part 61*****************

“You’re kidding.” Michael said flatly. “Is she kidding?” He demanded of Kyle, his voice reverberating through the small living room, even though he wasn’t actually shouting. Yet. “You had better be fucking kidding.” He announced, returning to his original target.

Kyle shook his head in response to Michael’s question. “Nope.” He piped up helpfully. “She is definitely not kidding.”

“KYLE!” Maria and Isabel chorused loudly.

Max blinked. When the hell had Isabel gotten back?

“What?” Kyle mouthed innocently, heading for the kitchen, as much for the fact that he was starving as from the sudden instinct for self preservation that told him to get out of the girls’ way.

Michael ignored the byplay. “I can’t believe you thought you could do this without talking to the rest of us.” He said, pinning Isabel with an angry glare.

“It wasn’t a decision for the group!” Isabel cried, exasperated.

“It sure as hell was!” Michael replied. “This affects all of us, not just you.”

And furthermore, Max wondered, ignoring the argument in favor of following his original train of thought, what was Isabel doing in his apartment? And why wasn’t Kyle at work? He stared, vaguely dumbfounded as Kyle walked by him on his way to the kitchen and then searched through the fridge until he found the roast beef. Max looked at the clock above the stove and exhaled a long, put upon sigh. It was lunch. Why wouldn’t the world be in his apartment for lunch? He glanced down at his son, surprised when Xan dropped his hand and moved to stand behind him.

Xan peeked out from behind Max’s leg and stared, wide eyed at the chaos in the living room. He bit his lip, one hand fisting nervously in the denim of Max’s jeans. He was feeling more and more upset as he listened to the peace of the early afternoon being shattered by the shouting.

Isabel threw up her hands in dramatic frustration. “God, Michael! Will you just, for two seconds…”

“No.” Michael interrupted stubbornly, his tone offering no room for compromise.

Max dropped a comforting hand on Xan’s head. “Don’t worry pal, they’re always like this.” He muttered, shaking his head as he propped their two planes up against the wall.

Xan’s eyes widened further. “A’ways?” he whispered, pressing closer to the back of Max’s legs while looking behind them towards the still closed bathroom door. He chewed his bottom lip nervously. Why wasn’t Liz out yet?

Maria rolled her eyes. “Michael, if you just listen…”

“No.”

Kyle shook his head. “Shocking.” He muttered from the safety of the kitchen, before continuing to make his lunch.

“KYLE!”

“Hey!” Kyle countered, glaring right back at Maria and Isabel. “Quit yelling at me. I listened already.”

Max glared at the group gathered in his apartment, only barely restraining the impulse to shout out his own exasperation. But he knew how vulnerable Xan suddenly felt and he didn’t think adding to the noise level was a good idea. Yet. Choosing to ignore everyone else for the moment he squatted down next to Xan and focused on his son, pulling the little boy from behind him so that he stood cradled gently against his chest. “Hey, everything’s fine, Xan. I promise.” Max added for good measure. He rubbed slow circles against Xan’s back. “You’re safe and believe it or not, everyone here is a friend.”

Xan studied the people in the living room for another minute and then raised his worried eyes to Max’s own calm gaze. Relaxing slightly, Xan felt the tension in his chest ease slowly as he shuffled closer to the heat of Max’s body. He did feel a little safer, not so out in the open, now that Max’s arms surrounded him protectively. He glanced over at Michael, who was back to looking mean and the new girl, who hadn’t even looked at him, but who sounded very much like his Aunt Lori did when she was angry. “Weally?” He whispered. “Dey awre?”

Max offered his son a lopsided smile. “Yeah, Xan, they are. Very loud friends, but still…” Max moved to stand up, intending to figure out what was going on, but Xan pressed himself closer as the shouting began again, lifting his arms in an uncertain plea to be held.

“Look, can everyone just calm down for a second? Really, this is not a big deal…” Isabel pleaded, attempting to bring some reason to the conversation.

“Calm down?” Maria asked rhetorically, nodding her agreement with Kyles snort. Like that was gonna happen.

“Not a big deal?!” Michael exploded. “Where is he, in the car?”

“We left the windows cracked.” Kyle joked. He raised his hands in surrender when no one bothered shouting his name, choosing instead to turn and glare daggers in his direction. Considering that two out of the three people in the living room could probably make a man’s head explode simply by looking at him, Kyle decided that retreating gracefully was the way to go.

Max pulled Xan into his arms, standing slowly as he settled his son securely against his side. His mood, and his patience were vastly improved when Xan relaxed against him. Max rubbed his son’s back gently, feeling an amazing sense of accomplishment when he realized that Xan had actually accepted the comfort he offered and was calming down. “Why don’t we figure out what all the shoutings about, huh?” he suggested.

Xan nodded, feeling much more comfortable now that he was being held. He glanced over Max’s shoulder and saw that the bathroom door was still closed. Liz was coming, though. He could feel her soothing him, gently letting him know that he was safe with Max. He settled himself more comfortably in Max’s arms, resting an elbow lightly on his shoulder while he studied the people in the living room. “Kay.” Xan agreed softly.

“Not a big deal!” Michael muttered, glaring at Isabel. “I think it is a big deal and I can pretty much guarantee that Max is gonna think so, too.” He pointed out.

Max took a deep breath, guessing that was his cue. He cleared his throat, but that didn’t break the glaring contest between Michael and Isabel.

“Max might think it’s a big deal but at least he’ll listen.” Isabel snapped, not at all certain that was true. Having come this far she was suddenly doubting the wisdom of simply springing this on everybody.

“What am I listening to?” Max asked, though not loudly enough, since no one bothered to look at him.

Michael snorted. “Right. You remember your brother, don’t you? The King of Control?”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “Someone want to tell me that the hell is going on here?” He asked, loudly enough so that this time it was his voice that reverberated through the living room.

“Isabel’s got a surprise.” Kyle said, nodding with exaggerated innocence.

“She turned her phone on?” Max asked dryly.

Isabel rolled her eyes and turned to face her brother. “No, Max. Look, just give me a…chance to…explain…”

Max couldn’t completely hide the smile that tugged at his lips when Isabel fell silent, mouth agape at her first sight of Xan. “Explain what?” He prompted, choosing to ignore the almost comical expression of disbelief plastered across her face.

“Oh. My. God.” Isabel whispered, staring at the child Max held protectively in his arms. She had no idea what the hell had transpired in her absence, but what she did know, what she was absolutely certain of was that the little boy resting easily in her brother’s embrace was…his son. She hadn’t seen her nephew since he was a baby, but there was no mistaking those eyes. Or those ears. She forced herself to stop staring at the little boy and raised her eyes to her brothers’ solemn gaze. “Max…Oh my God…”

Max nodded. “I know.” He said gently. “Now, you were going to explain something…”

Michael rolled his eyes as Isabel remained silent, still staring at Xan. It was an honest reaction, but he’d be damned if he let it change the subject. He caught Max’s eye pointedly. “Jesse’s here.” He announced.

“What?!” Max burst out, looking from Isabel to Michael and then back to his sister.

Michael nodded his complete agreement with the indignant disbelief written across Max’s face. “Thank you!”

Isabel shook her head, her attention still focused on her nephew. This was unbelievable! “Oh my God!”

“You said that already.” Kyle pointed out helpfully.

“Kyle!” Maria hissed. “Not now.”

Max ignored everyone else, his narrowed gaze falling on his sister. “Jesse’s here? As in, here in Chicago?” he asked incredulously. When had they ever discussed that? When had Langley had time to make the arrangements? Hell, when had they decided to trust his brother in law, much less invite him on their everlasting road trip? Jesse hadn’t taken the news of ‘aliens among us’ particularly well. He’d still been mourning the loss of his normal life when they’d all left. And he sure as hell hadn’t fought Isabel too hard about coming with. Max had to wonder what had happened over the last week to bring Jesse back into what Maria still called, The Alien Abyss. “Isabel?”

“Oh, he’s here in Chicago, all right.” Kyle muttered.

Isabel ignored Kyle and waved a hand at Xan. “Max, what…how…that’s your…”

“I know who he is.” Max interrupted swiftly, warning his sister to silence with a sharp look. He didn’t want her blurting out that he was Xan’s father before he had a chance to tell him. “Can we get back to…”

“Well, how did he get here?” Isabel demanded indignantly. “I mean, if you were planning to do…whatever it is that you did, don’t you think I should have been let in on it?” she questioned, her voice shrill as visions of Amber Alerts sounding across the country suddenly flashed through her mind. What was he thinking? “Max, what did you do?”

Max stared, feeling the incredibly strong urge to laugh grapple with the competing urge to strangle his sister. He couldn’t believe that she was actually standing there, looking at him as if he’ddone something wrong. “You’d know what happened if you’d kept your cell phone on…like you were supposed to.” He pointed out. “Would it have killed you to lower yourself to following the rules that we all agreed on?”

Isabel gasped. “You are the last person to talk to me about following the rules, Max. Now what the hell happened?” She paused, glancing uncertainly around the apartment as if she were certain it was going to change shape on her at any moment. “I was only gone for like a week!”

Michael shook his head in exasperation. “The kid’s here. Deal with it. Can we get back to the problem…”

“Jesse is not a problem!” Isabel shouted.

“He sure as hell is!” Michael shouted back.

Max felt Xan press more closely against him as the yelling resumed. Ignoring his own desire to shout at his sister, Max turned to his son. “You doing ok there, Xan?”

Xan shrugged, plucking nervously at the neck of Max’s t-shirt as he stared at Michael and the other girl. “I don’ like da yellin’.” He whispered.

“You aint seen nothing yet, kid.” Kyle muttered, subsiding quickly when he saw the glare that Max sent in his direction.

“Kyle, drop it. Everybody else, calm down and lower your voices.” Max ordered, before looking back at Xan and lowering his own voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t like the yelling either.” He admitted.

“Max is right.” Isabel declared, turning her back on Michael as she faced her brother. “We can do this later, I want to meet my…that is, I um…” she caught her brothers warning glare and stammered to a halt before she said ‘nephew’. She threw a look at Max that said he’d be explaining all that later and then turned to Xan. “Hi. I’m Isabel.”

Xan stared at Isabel for a long moment and then looked up at Max uncertainly.

“It’s ok, Xan. Isabel is my sister. Do you want to say hi?” Max asked, nodding his encouragement.

“Hi Is’bel.” Xan whispered, offering a tentative smile when she grinned at him. He bit his lip and then ducked his head, shyly hiding his face against Max’s neck.

Isabel’s grin turned into a misty smile as she watched Max rub Xan’s back and whisper something soothing in his ear. She shook her head, vaguely amazed at the way Max gently coaxed his son’s face away from his neck and then dropped a light kiss on Xan’s forehead. There was a newfound contentment glowing in Max’s eyes, something Isabel had never seen before, but envied immediately. She wanted that same contentment for herself. With Jesse. And no matter what they said, she knew could never be wrong. “He’s beautiful.” Isabel whispered.

Max nodded, reaching up to tweak Xan’s nose when he saw his son studying them with furrowed brows, his worry over being the topic of such a serious conversation evident. No pressure, Max reminded himself. “Yeah.” He said lightly, as if he’d only just noticed. “He is pretty cute.”

Isabel laughed, watching as Xan wrinkled his nose at his father and leaned back in his arms, covering his nose and offering a good natured ‘Hey’ at the treatment. She jumped almost as much as Xan did when Michael cleared his throat angrily.

“Yeah, the rugrat’s adorable, but can we get back on track here? Remember Jesse?” Michael demanded of Max. “Remember his sudden reappearance in our lives?”

Max exhaled roughly, he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “Michael look, now isn’t the time…”

“Maxwell, now isn’t the time for you to go all pansey ass and indecisive on me! This isn’t something we can just deal with later.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, his temper sparking at Michael’s assessment. Pansey assed and indecisive? “Fine.” He ground out. “Let’s deal with this.”

“Yeah.” Kyle seconded. “We can only leave him in the car for so long before the ASPCA intervenes.”

“Kyle!” Isabel snapped, one hand moving restlessly to smooth her hair. “There’s nothing to deal with, this isn’t an issue!”

“Not an issue?” Michael exploded. “We don’t know if he’s a spy…”

“Michael!” Isabel shouted, outraged.

“Ok, that’s going a bit far, don’t you think?” Maria asked. “He’s her husband.”

Isabel nodded. “Thank you.” At least someone was on her side. Of course, it had been Maria’s idea to simply seize the day and go meet Jesse in Florida, in the first place.

Michael shook his head. “We don’t know what he’s been doing over the last few years, or who’s gotten to him, or what his motives are.” He pointed out coldly. “You don’t know anything about him because you didn’t go through the proper channels to…”

“Langley hardly qualifies as ‘channels’. And since when do you give a damn about proper channels?” Isabel asked from between clenched teeth. She’d known that Michael probably wouldn’t take this well, but this was ridiculous. “This is my husband we’re talking about.”

“And this kind of breach could get us all caught. You may not mind getting locked in a room somewhere while the government studies you like a rat, but what about the rest of us? I’m not particularly happy with that idea!”

Xan’s eyes widened. Why would Isabel want to get locked in a room?

“Everybody just shut up!” Max ordered, his voice carrying forcefully over the din the instant he felt his son start to tremble. He saw Isabel open her mouth but he cut her off with a curt shake of his head. “I’m serious.” He warned. Swallowing his anger, he gentled his voice and turned back to Xan, jostling him slightly. “Hey, pal…”

Xan stared up at Max, tears pooling in his wide, frightened eyes. “I don’ wanna get caught in a woom.” He whispered urgently.

“You won’t. Remember, I promised?” Max asked, nodding seriously and holding Xan’s fearful gaze with his own sincere one. “That’s not going to happen, Xan. You’re safe here.” He repeated, gently wiping the moisture from Xan’s lashes. “I promise, Xan, you’re safe now. I won’t ever let that happen.”

Xan nodded slowly. Max was serious. And warm. And strong. He’d even made Michael stop shouting.

Michael exhaled roughly, his gut twisting at the expression of fear on Xan’s face. He wanted to kick himself for having brought up the white room. “Max, I…”

“Don’t.” Max snapped. “Is it too much to ask…” he halted mid sentence when he felt Xan stiffen in his arms, his son’s panic increasing with every passing moment and rolling off of him in waves. “Xan?”

“Whewre’s Liz?” Xan demanded, staring over Max’s shoulder at the open bathroom door. She was supposed to be in the bathroom. He could feel her with him, trying to soothe him but it wasn’t enough. He looked at Max. “Whewre’d she go?”

“Easy, pal, she’s just getting dressed. She’s going to be out in just a couple minutes.” Max could feel Liz rushing to get herself together. She’d been relaxing for a while now, figuring that the best way for him to get used to dealing with Xan was simply to do it. And now he could feel her kicking herself for not at least getting dressed so that she could be there when Xan needed her. Sending his reassurance to Liz across their connection, Max rubbed Xan’s back. “I promise, Xan she’ll be…”

Xan’s wide amber eyes filled with tears and his lower lip trembled. “Nuh –uh.” He said, shaking his head desperately. “I wan’ Liz. I wan’ hewr now. Please?” He added, as an afterthought.

Max could feel Xan’s fear increasing steadily the longer he was denied and Max knew that there was no way Xan was going to accept comfort from anyone but Liz at the moment. “Ok, pal. Ok. Let’s go get Liz.” He turned and headed for the bedroom, ignoring the group of people staring after him. It was probably better that Xan go to Liz anyway, he mused, seething internally. Good parents didn’t murder their friends in front of their impressionable four year old children.

Isabel stared after her brother. “Ok, am I the only one who found that really…?” she shrugged, uncertain what exactly to call Xan’s sudden need for Liz.

“Freaky?” Maria asked. “Nope. But I look at it this way…” She smiled smugly at Michael, Kyle and Isabel who were all watching her curiously. “Somewhere in hell Tess is pulling the perfect blonde curls out of that fat head of hers, because her son loves Liz Parker. I’ve chosen to ignore the freakiness in favor of focusing on the poetic justice.”


*********************


Liz quickly smoothed her damp hair into a ponytail and then grabbed a tank top and yanked it over her head, pulling on a pair of jeans immediately afterward. She searched through the dresser drawer for socks, all the while cursing the fact that she’d chosen to relax in the peace of her bedroom instead of getting dressed. But, damn it! Today was supposed to be a lazy day. A day for everyone to simply enjoy their freedom. A day for Xan to relax and begin to realize that he was safe. Instead, she could feel him holding back tears and calling desperately for her through their connection. When she got her hands on the idiot that had screwed up her plan she was gonna… Her gaze flew to the bedroom door when it opened with a sharp click. She abandoned her search for socks and reached for Xan, catching him as he leaned from Max’s arms towards her. “What happened?” Liz asked Max, settling Xan against her as he wrapped his arms around her neck . She could feel Xan calming down now that he could see her, but his residual fear was still washing over her and she could feel her adrenaline pumping in response. She was beginning to feel a little wired, a situation not helped by the fact that her husband was furious and his sudden anger was also seeping through their connection to her. Liz shook her head helplessly. “Max, what…”

“You wewre s’psed ta be in da bathwoom.” Xan whispered, his head resting comfortably against Liz’s shoulder while he crushed a lock of hair from her ponytail between his fingers.

Liz nodded. “I’m sorry sweetie, I just came in here to get dressed. I was going be out in just a minute.”

“But I wanted you now.” Xan explained softly.

“Well, I’m here now so everything’s ok, right?” Liz relaxed when Xan nodded at her, his panic fading as he concentrated on tangling her hair around his fingers. She turned back to Max. “So, what happened?”

“Isabel’s home. She brought Jesse with her.” Max replied shortly.

Liz blinked. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Max replied, turning on his heel and heading for the door.

“Max, wait…what are you going to do?” Liz called, watching him storm from the room.

“I’m going to go deal with it!”

“Uh-oh.”

Liz stared down at Xan after his pronouncement, somewhat worried that Max’s temper might have frightened him. But Xan didn’t look afraid, instead it seemed almost as if he were waiting patiently for her reaction. Liz nodded. “Uh-oh is right, sweetie.” Then she smiled a little mischievously. “Good thing we get to stay in here, huh?”


*************************


Max pulled the door to his bedroom closed and headed toward the living room and the rest of the group. It occurred to him that he might want to calm down a little before facing them.

“He’s my husband, Michael!”

“He’s a liability!”

Max’s temper surged anew, and as he strode around the corner calming down was the last thing on his mind. “Damn it! Everyone just shut up!” He waited until everyone had turned to stare at him as if he’d lost his mind before continuing. “I don’t have time for this right now…”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Make the time.” He snapped. He understood that Max’s priority was his son, but the rest of the world didn’t just disappear because Xan was home. And this issue wasn’t simply going to go away.

“No.” Max watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as his coldly furious tone hit home with the group of people scattered throughout his living room. It shocked them into silence. For at least a second.

“No?” Isabel whispered in disbelief. “Max, you…we have to…” she stuttered to a halt, uncertain how to proceed when all Max did was stare at her.

“Damn it, Maxwell. You can’t just ignore this, you have to deal with it.”

“You deal with it.” Max bit out angrily.

Michael blinked. “What?”

Max shook his head, his own voice mocking him. I’m giving up the throne. Whatever! One of these days he’d have to figure out how to actually do that. “I’m delegating. You’re second, you deal with it.”

Isaebel shook her head. “Oh, no! Max he’ll…”

“Don’t kill him.” Max said to Michael. He turned back to Isabel. “Happy?”

“NO!”

Max shrugged. “Take it up with Michael, he’s in charge for the next 2 weeks.”

Kyle shook his head, looking from Max to Michael and then back. “He’s lost it.” He observed.

Max glared. “Out.” He ordered, pointing at the door. “For the next two weeks we’re off limits.”

Maria stared. Off limits? “Max, you can’t…”

“Just did.” Max contradicted implacably, stepping forward to herd them all towards the door. He relented enough to explain. “I need this time, guys. Xan needs it.”

Isabel backed toward the door, unwilling to let this stand as it was but completely uncertain about how to change her brothers mind. There was no way she was going to let Michael decide Jesse’s fate. “Max, I understand that.” She said reasonably. “But you have a responsibility. You can’t just…”

“How long has your phone been off?” Max snapped.

“That’s so completely different. You know that, Max.” Maria broke in. She wasn’t any happier about this than Isabel.

Max snorted. “It’s always different. Well, now it’s my turn. I’m taking a break from the Alien Abyss.” He announced, watching everyone back up as he shooed them out the door. “I don’t want to see any of you before the two weeks are up.” With that last pronouncement he grabbed Michael’s arm, pulling him to the side before shutting the door on three shocked faces.

Michael let out a low whistle. “It’s good to be King.” He muttered.

Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.” He scrubbed at his face tiredly. “Look, if this Jesse thing turns out to be…”

Michael nodded. “Real emergency, I’ll let you know.” He paused. “Look, you know I didn’t mean…I…just tell the rugrat I’m sorry.”

“I’ll let him know.” Max said quietly, his anger falling away now that freedom was just within his grasp.

“Thanks.” Michael glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the door. “You sure you don’t want me to just…

Max rolled his eyes. “Don’t kill him.”

“Spoilsport.” Michael joked. He looked over Max’s shoulder at Liz and Xan who were hovering at the end of the hallway watching the proceedings curiously. “Good luck.” He said softly.

“You too.” Max replied, nodding at the door, behind which, two irate women and an irreverent instigator awaited his best friend. “It’s not as much fun as it looks.”

Michael snorted. “Bye Liz, Bye Xan.”

“Bye Michael.” Liz called, watching as he slipped from the apartment. She turned to Max, watching a vague expression of embarrassment cross his face. “So…”

Max moved toward his wife and son, grateful to see that Xan was calm and happy again. He shrugged at Liz. Now that his temper was cooling, he felt a little ridiculous. Max shrugged again, hitching a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the door. “Yeah, um, they had to go.”

Liz nodded gravely, unable to suppress her amusement. Or her relief at Max’s decision. “We heard.”

Max relaxed once he realized that Liz was ok with this new plan, even though he could sense a 'but' in there somewhere. "But..." he prompted lightly.

Liz shrugged and nodded back down the hallway. "Well, since you kicked out the help...now it's just you and Xan cleaning that room."
Last edited by Pathos on Fri Mar 14, 2003 1:21 am, edited 1 time in total.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

The errant author returns...

Yeah, so when I said new part Monday I pretty much meant early, early Wednesday morning...but ya'll knew that, right? :lol: Sowwy. This is pretty much transition but...the silver lining here is that part 63 is almost done so you shouldn't have to wait so long for the next part...shouldn't she says...

As always, thanks SO, SO much for the fb and bumps... and the friendly reminders that I've gone AWOL...threats, er suggestions that it might be necessary to tie me down in front of the computer...make me feel very loved. :D

I'll stop babbling now and post the new part. Enjoy!!

Pathos

Michelle in Yonkers Glad to see you back and feeling better (and Happy Belated Birthday!!) - and, um, trust me, the guilt does work. :lol:




****************Part 62***************


Liz glanced down as Xan pressed himself more fully against her legs, his uncertainty growing as the brief silence following Michael’s departure was lost in a sudden rush of angry voices from the hallway. Reaching down, she took his hand, squeezing his fingers gently as she tried to assure him that there was nothing to worry about. Even though she couldn’t seem to help glaring at the door.

Hoping to allay some of Xan’s fears, Max leaned against the front door and smiled easily at his son. He ignored the angry, almost shrill knocking that was currently vibrating through the wood, trying to appear un-phased by the revolt taking place in the hallway. “Don’t worry, pal. They’re not coming back in.” Not for two weeks, anyway, he added silently, wondering if it were too late to amend that to two months…or two years. Max felt his smile slip and his eyes narrow when Isabel - and he was sure it was Isabel - gave up on knocking and rang the bell. Muttering a curse, he turned toward the door and waved his hand at the buzzer, silencing its desperate call. “I’m serious!” Max shouted, allowing his voice and his temper to carry through to the hallway. “Two weeks. Now go home!” Eyes narrowed, he waited until he heard the shuffling of retreating feet then he pasted an easy smile back onto his face and turned to his son, Max said. “See, Xan? All taken care of.”

Xan looked up at Liz, easily guessing that she wasn’t nearly as convinced as Max was. “Awre you suwre?” He asked uncertainly.

Max nodded. “We just need to do one more thing and then we’re completely safe.”

“What?” Xan asked curiously, careful to keep Liz’s hand firmly in his grasp as he stared at the door, grateful that the ruckus seemed to be heading away from them.

“This.” Max said, sliding the large deadbolt home with a flourish and a loud ‘thwack!’

Liz nodded at the deadbolt. “You sure a simple lock’s gonna work?” she hinted quietly.

Max nodded, catching on and waving his hand over the deadbolt to add a little alien insurance to the lock. “I’m sure.”

Liz smiled. “Good.” She turned to Xan. “Now that that’s all taken care of, why don’t we get started on that room of yours, hmm?”

Xan nodded easily, relaxing once again now that Liz wasn’t so upset and Max was back to smiling.

Max sighed dramatically “Cleaning, huh?” He held up his hands in surrender at his wife’s pointed stare. “Cleaning. Right. What do you say, Xan? Up for a little slave labor?”

Xan’s brow furrowed. “Slave labowr?” he asked.

Max nodded. “That’s right.” He said, heading down the hall to his sons room. “When Liz gets in the mood to organize you better just follow orders and do what she says. And I can tell from the look on her face that she’s in the mood to organize.”

Xan studied Liz’s expression curiously before following Max into his room. “You can tell?” he asked. “She doesn’ look diffwent.”

Max sighed dramatically. “She will, pal. She will.” Especially considering this room, he acknowledged silently. It really was a mess.

Liz rolled her eyes. “Ok, you two. Enough stalling. It’s time to take care of the room you destroyed.”

Xan shook his head, holding up one small hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Is not destwoyed, Liz.” He corrected her. “Is jus’ messy.”

“A place for everything, and everything in it’s place.” Liz quoted with mock severity, employing an horrific German accent to make her point and then smiling at Xan when he giggled at her theatrics.

“Wha’s dat mean?” Xan asked, wrinkling his nose.

Max grinned, dropping a hand on his son’s head and ruffling his hair affectionately. He was grateful that Xan had relaxed so quickly now that it was just the three of them. “That means she owns us, pal.”



********************************************


“There’s no way, no way this is happening.” Isabel muttered angrily, glaring at the closed elevator doors. “I can’t believe he chose Michael…Michael, of all people!” she continued, shifting her gaze to Kyle.

“Hey, I’m right the hell here!” Michael bit out, glaring at Isabel

“Who’d you expect him to choose?” Kyle asked curiously. “I mean, did you think Max was gonna just say, ‘Hey! Welcome back. Glad to see Jesse. I need a break so you’re in charge Izzy’? Right!” He muttered, uncertain when the hint of bitterness had entered his mood, but suddenly unable to keep it from coloring his end of the conversation.

Isabel’s eyes narrowed on Kyle’s features. “Actually, I didn’t think he’d need a break.” She ground out in frustration. “I figured he’d just deal with it…”

“You figured he’d give in to you. Just like everyone always does.” Kyle corrected. He shook his head angrily. He couldn’t believe she’d done this. Without telling him. Max and Michael were one thing but he…was obviously an idiot.

Maria’s brows rose in surprise at Kyle’s harsh assessment. He was too easy going to lose his temper very often, and when he did it was almost always with Max. Or, occasionally Michael. But never with Isabel. Maria’s eyes narrowed at the sudden charged silence in the elevator. Shaking her head she turned to stare pointedly at Michael. And then rolled her eyes in disgust when all he did was stare back with a blank expression on his face. She slapped his arm lightly, nodding to where Kyle and Isabel looked like they were about to face off.

“That’s not fair, Kyle.” Isabel said quietly, taking a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry but I need you on my…”

“Trust me when I say this isn’t about what you need.” Kyle said. Why should he be surprised that now she wanted him on her side?

“Kyle, please…”

Maria blinked as the rush of temper she’d expected from Isabel never came, leaving in its place an odd humility which didn’t suit their resident Ice Princess at all. “Michael…” she prodded in a stage whisper.
Michael shrugged. What did Maria want him to do? He rolled his eyes when she continued to glare. “Look, do…whatever this is, later.”

“Fine by me.” Kyle looked expectantly at Michael. “What’s next El Presidente?” He prompted.

Michael blinked. “We…uh, we need to…let’s just focus on what’s important here.”

“Oh? And what do you think is important here?” Isabel asked, disdain dripping coldly from her voice.

Michael’s eyes narrowed as he bristled against Isabel’s tone. “Figuring out what to do with the problem you brought home.” He retorted.

Isabel shook her head. “Jesse is not…No! You know what? This is my future! Mine. And I really don’t care what the rest of you…”

“You damn well better start caring!” Michael bit out. “Because what you do affects the rest of us or did you forget about that?” He asked.

“You’re one to talk, Michael!” Isabel replied.

Michael glared. He opened his mouth to reply and ended up stumbled back against the wall as the elevator ground to a jarring halt, sending Maria into Isabel and Kyle into him. He glanced at the indicator, his temper skyrocketing as he watched it blink manically between 5 and 4. No fucking way! Why was it every time he got on this fucking thing , it got stuck?!

Taking advantage of Michael’s distraction, Isabel continued. “It’s always about everyone else, Michael! What about me? Max got Liz and you got Maria and what did I get?”

“Yeah, you’ve been pining.” Kyle muttered. “You think this has been fucking picnic for me?!” he asked angrily.

Isabel shook her head quickly, almost desperately. “Kyle, that’s not what I meant, I just meant that I have the right to live with my husband.” She finished stubbornly.

“Yeah? There’s a four year old up there with the right to live with his family without the government ripping him into little pieces.” Kyle shook his head, surprised at the venom in his voice but unable to stop it. “And much as it pains me to agree with him,” he said, hitching a thumb in Michael’s direction. “…what you did just jeopardized that.”

“I didn’t know about Xan.” Isabel ground out.

“Whose fault is that?” Michael snapped. “You’re the one who turned off her cell phone. And even if you didn’t know about Xan, you knew about the rest of us!”

Maria stared at everyone around her. She never thought she’d miss ‘Max the King’ but at least with him around there was someone to referee. She grabbed Michael’s shirt, steadying herself and catching his attention as the elevator shuddered under their feet. “You’re supposed to be calming them down, not making this worse.” She stage whispered.

“Maria…” Michael snapped, turning angrily to his girlfriend.

“Oh! I know you’re not gonna start yelling at me, Spaceboy!” Maria snapped right back. She’d be damned if he fell into another power trip, like the last time he thought he was king.

“Excuse me, but this isn’t about you, any of you!” Isabel broke in. “This is about me seizing the day, being happy, for once. I think I’m entitled!”

Michael turned at glared at Maria, sensing her influence in the ‘seize the day’ comment. “Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically, his eyes still on his girlfriend. “Is that what this is about?”

“Hey, I never said she should bring him home without telling us.” Maria muttered, avoiding Isabel’s eye.

“Thank you, Benedict DeLuca.”

Michael held up his hands as Maria, Kyle and Isabel all opened their mouths at the same time. “Ok, everyone just shut up! We need to focus on this Jesse situation.”

“He is not a situation!” Isabel shouted.

“You’re right, he’s a liability! And he needs to be taken care of.” Michael snapped back coldly.

Michael!” Isabel and Maria chorused, looking horrified.

Michael rolled his eyes, feeling this whole ridiculous situation slipping further and further from his grasp. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He muttered.

“Micahel Guerin, Ladies and Gentlemen. Winning friends and influencing people all over the world.”

“Kyle!”

DING!

The four occupants of the elevator blinked in surprise as the doors opened on the fourth floor, framing a shocked Mr. Santorini. Without speaking each of them pasted a polite smile on their face and stepped back to the edge of the car, leaving room for the older man to join them as they headed to the lobby.

Mr. Santorini shook his head swiftly, the Stepford smiles plastered on each of the young peoples faces enough to make his decision for him. “I’ll wait for the next one.” He said as the elevator doors closed. He was unsurprised to hear the shouting resume as soon as the car started moving again. “Kids!” he huffed.


**********************


“Wha’ ‘bout dese, Liz? Whewre do dey go?” Xan asked, turning to Liz with his Peter Pan video in one hand and Mulan in the other.

“Those can go out in the living room, by the TV.” Liz said, stretching a little as she stood up. “Why don’t we…”

“I can do it all myself.” Xan asserted, cradling the two videos in he crook of his arm and holding up one hand to keep Liz where she was.

Liz nodded. “Ok, sweetie. You go put those by the TV, then.” She said, sitting back down on the bed. She looked at Max who was kneeling next to the toybox studying the game he held in his hand. “What?”

“Candyland?” he asked, letting the box dangle distastefully from his fingers as visions of having to hide from Isabel and her obsessive love of the game floated across his mind. His sister hadn’t let that one go until she turned 9 and their mother had bought her the Game of Life. And then there was Monopoly…if he ever met the Parker Brothers he was taking them out.

Liz smirked. “I promise not to let Iz see it. You can put it on the shelf, there.” She said, nodding at the shelf. She bit her lip a little as she watched Max climb to his feet and shove the game into place on the top shelf. She couldn’t help the way her eyes fell to the curve of his butt.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Blushing slightly, Liz stared at her husband innocently. “What, uh…what do you mean?”

“Ordering us around.” Max clarified wryly, ignoring his wife’s slight blush which suggested she’d been enjoying other things besides giving orders. Tried to ignore it, anyway. He sighed, unable to stop his eyes from wandering across her frame as she lounged casually back on the plane bed.

“Nope.” Liz corrected, a grin tugging at her lips. “I’m enjoying ordering you around.” It felt so good to be home. And safe. And teasing her husband to distraction…

“Oh, really?” Max asked softly.

“Uh huh. On your knees, slave!” Liz demanded outrageously, waving her hand imperiously in Max’s direction.

Max stared at his wife. He knew she was teasing, but the sudden tendril of desire that was threading them together was no joke. He took a deep breath as he felt the slow burn of their passion unfurl across their connection, gaining momentum with each passing second.

Liz licked her suddenly dry lips. “You’re the one who gave up being king for two weeks.” She reminded him, nodding pointedly at the floor and biting her lip a little at the way Max’s pupils dilated, his eyes darkening with delicious heat at her teasing. Her breath hitched a little in her throat as she watched Max sink gracefully to his knees. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure who was teasing whom to distraction.

Nodding his agreement, Max slowly crossed the floor to kneel in front of his wife. “Well then, your wish is my command, my Lady.” he vowed softly. He nudged her legs apart, his hands settling under her knees as he pulled her gently to the edge of the bed. “That turn you on?” Max asked, sitting back and yanking Liz suddenly from the mattress to settle across his thighs.

“You turn me on.” Liz said, swallowing hard as she shifted in Max’s lap. Xan was right in the next room, it’s not like they were actually going to get very far…but one little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. She leaned in…and then blinked in surprise when Max shook his head.

“Your next command, my Lady?” Max prompted, his lips hovering dangerously close to Liz’s own.

“Kiss me.” Liz breathed.

Max slanted his mouth over his wife’s, nibbling gently, teasingly at her lips and smiling when she arched against him, wanting more. “Yes, my Lady.” He agreed, moaning softly into a kiss that turned quickly from gentle, to needy.

“Hey! Whewre awre you guys?” Xan called, blinking a little in surprise when he looked into his room and couldn’t see Max or Liz.

Liz scrambled from Max’s lap as Xan’s disgruntled voice cut through her haze of desire like a knife. She stood up quickly, tripping a little over Max as he did the same, and moved around the tail end of the plane so Xan could see her. Jesus! Talk about a buzz kill! “We’re right here, sweetie.” She said, smiling innocently at the little boy.

Xan’s brow furrowed as he walked around the foot of his bed and stared at Max and Liz. “What wewre you doin down dewre?”

Liz felt her mind go blank. “We were…uh, we were…”

“Playing. A game.” Max stuttered out quickly, nodding at his son as he leaned nonchalantly against the tail of the plane bed. “We were playing a game.”

“What game?” Xan asked suspiciously.

“Hide and go seek.” Liz blurted out.

“Oh. I don’ weally like dat game.” Xan said, shrugging as he moved back to the box of toys he and Max were unpacking.

Max sighed and followed his son back to the toybox, his desire a distant, and vaguely traumatic memory. “You will, pal. You will.”


********************


Michael burst through the door, gratefully escaping the three bickering people behind him as he hit the street outside Max and Liz’s apartment building. He’d never been so happy to see pavement in his life! Taking a deep breath, Michael turned to glare the rest of the group into silence. When that didn’t work, he gave in and did what he’d wanted to do since they’d stepped into the elevator. “Everyone just SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!” he roared, nodding his contentment with the vague sense of accomplishment that accompanied the sudden block long silence. And then Isabel’s mouth snapped shut and she drew herself up to her full height. And Kyle snorted. And Maria stared at him. Hard.

“Well?” Maria demanded, following Isabel’s example and drawing herself up to her full height. Which Michael, for some reason, found more threatening.

And then the dog on the corner started barking again. And the old woman two doors down continued to beat her rugs with a broom. And the kids playing on the stoop next door started screeching with carefree laughter. “This is what we’re gonna do.” Michael announced, ignoring the return of the chaos.

“What, Michael? What exactly do you think we’re gonna do?” Isabel asked contemptuously. “Just because Max decided to take a break doesn’t mean you get to decide everything.”

“Um, actually…” Kyle broke in helpfully. “I think it does. Hence the whole ‘Michael’s in charge’ proclamation.” He paused, matching Isabel glare for glare as he wondered aloud. “Maybe next time Max should get someone to trumpet before he makes a proclamation. Then everyone’ll catch it the first time around.”

Michael stared, wondering what the hell had set Valenti off. And why the hell Isabel wasn’t fighting back. Shaking his head, he pushed his curiosity aside and continued with the plan as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Iz, you take Jesse back to your apartment and stay out of sight. I’m gonna get in touch with Langley and see what kind of alarms your husbands disappearance set off.”

“Michael, I have a job! I am not spending all my time cooped up in that apartment. And Jesse…”

Michael held up a hand. “Look! You fucked up, Isabel.” He raised his voice when Isabel’s eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to argue with him. “The least you can do is not get us, or Jesse, caught while I try to sort this out!” Michael was more than a little relieved to see Isabel’s stiff nod, the sudden realization that Jesse was in as much danger as the rest of them seeming to finally penetrate her stubborn anger. “Stay in that apartment. No one in or out until you’ve seen me, got it?”

“Fine.” Isabel bit out, turning on her heel and heading for her car, and Jesse, who was leaning easily against the passenger side door. She’d rather be at home anyway. Now she just had to figure out a way to explain this whole ridiculous situation to her husband.

“And keep your phone on!” Michael called after Isabel’s retreating back.

“Yes, dad.”

Michael blinked, ignoring the finger Isabel threw in his direction to ponder his new nickname. “Dad?!” he muttered, horrified. He grabbed Maria’s arm as she headed after Isabel. “Where are you going?”

Maria pulled her arm from Michael’s grip. “I have to take Liz’s shift. Iz is giving me a ride.”

Michael nodded, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Ok, fine. Just…”

“Oh, thank you, my lord and master. I am so glad you approve, now I can die a happy woman!” Maria crooned sarcastically, figuring she’d gotten her point across when Michael’s jaw clenched spasmodically. “I’m outta here.” She said, turning to catch up with Isabel.

“Whatever.” Michael growled under his breath, turning to head for home. Why did he think he was gonna hear about this later tonight? He pulled up short when he almost fell over Kyle. “What?!” Michael bit out, already annoyed by the other man’s expectant expression.

“Can I go? I mean, am I excused or do you want me to bow and scrape a little before I head back to work?” Kyle asked innocently.

“Go. Before I blow you up.” Michael said, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Langley’s emergency number. He watched Kyle head away from him with a certain amount of relief. Now maybe he’d be able to get his thoughts in order. Michael let himself relax, figuring the worst of the day was over.

And then Langley answered the phone. “Can’t you people take care of yourselves for more than a week at a time?!”

Michael closed his eyes in defeat.



*******************************


“Weally, Liz. I’m not tiwred.” Xan insisted, holding onto her shoulders as he stepped into his pajama bottoms.

“I know, baby. But now’s the time when all good little boys go to sleep.” Liz soothed, smiling when Xan dropped his head heavily onto her shoulder, scrubbing at his tired eyes with one fisted hand. “You don’t want your dreams to start without you, do you?” she asked softly.

“I don’ cawre.” Xan replied around a yawn.

Max stood by the tail end of the plane bed feeling somewhat extraneous as he watched Liz get Xan ready for bed. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room. Instead, he simply watched the two of them, slightly surprised by the oddly visceral confidence that so clearly existed between his wife and his son. There was something intrinsically right about the way Liz gently steered Xan toward bed time, ignoring every protestation that he wasn’t tired without making Xan feel like he, himself was being ignored. Max stood vaguely in awe of their connection, even as he was utterly grateful for it. And suddenly he realized that it wasn’t simply a matter of Liz helping to heal his son’s wounded spirit. Max could feel it now, though he hadn’t even been aware of it until this moment. Xan was helping Liz almost as much, healing a concern so deep that Max wondered if she’d ever have let him anywhere near it. It was incredible, and beautiful, and right. Right in a way that few things in his life had been right. Shaking his head, Max shrugged self consciously as Liz stared at him over Xan’s shoulder, her gaze clearly questioning the sudden overwhelming stream of emotion that was moving across their connection. ‘I love you.’ He mouthed, silently. Three little words that explained so much, telling her everything she needed to know at the most honest, primal level of truth.

Liz smiled softly. ‘I love you, too.’ She mouthed back. Her attention returned to Xan when the little boy reached out to be held. “Ok, sweetie. Time for bed.”

“I still need a stowry.” Xan pointed out drowsily.

“Ok, one story.”

“Twelve stories.” Xan countered seriously, holding up 2 fingers.

“How about one story tonight and we’ll see about the rest tomorrow?”

“Kay.”

Max grinned at his sons easy compliance.

Liz shook her head at her husband, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. “He’s not always this easy, he’s just really tired.”

“I’m not tiwred.” Xan corrected, squinting in an effort to keep his eyes open.

“I know, sweetie.” Liz said, shifting Xan more comfortably against her as she headed across the hall. She knew that Xan wasn’t ready to sleep by himself so she figured she may as well settle him in their bed. “Max, grab his sleep book, will you?” Liz called over her shoulder.

“Uh, sure.” Max replied, somewhat startled at his sudden inclusion. A place for everything, and everything in its place, Max recited silently as he sifted through the books resting on the shelves under the plane’s wings. God, he loved his wife. Now if only he could find the frickin’ book.. “Um, which one…”

“It’s the Dr. Seuss one called…”

“The Sleep Book. Right.” Max muttered, pulling it from the shelf and wondering if he’d ever get the hang of this. He followed Liz into their room and handed her the book.

“You’re doing great, Max.” Liz quietly reassured her husband. “Now have a seat.” She said with a smile, nodding at the empty side of the bed.

Max glanced uncertainly at Xan, adamantly unwilling to ruin his bedtime routine with Liz, no matter how much he wanted to be part of it. Patience. That was his mantra.

Xan bit his lip as Max continued to hover uncertainly beside the bed. “Don’ you wanna listen to da stowry? Is a good book.” He hinted cautiously.

“It is, huh?” Max asked, relaxing as Xan nodded seriously at him and then scooted over a little so that there was more room. “I’m always up for a good book.” He said softly, sitting down next to his son.

Xan yawned. “Good.” He smiled sleepily as Liz flipped open the cover. “Dis book is to be wead in bed.” He recited, pointing at the cover page.

Max settled onto his side and propped his head in his hand so he could read the book over Xan’s shoulder. He couldn’t help smiling proudly as Xan continued to chant sleepily along with Liz, obviously having memorized most of the book. He didn’t think there was a smarter kid on the planet. He felt his wife’s amusement float across their connection and he caught her gaze, slightly mollified to realize that while he might amuse her, she didn’t disagree with his assessment.

“Lookit dat, Max…” Xan whispered a little while later, pointing to a picture of Seusical creatures half falling out of their nests. “I don’ tink dat’s vewry comf’table bu’ Liz says is fowr dem.”

“I think Liz is probably right.” Max whispered gently, his head bent close to Xan’s.

Liz shook her head. “Shhhh. Everywhere creatures have shut off their voices.” She glanced at Max and Xan. “That means you two…” she warned with a smile. “They’ve all gone to bed, In the beds of their choices…”

Max ducked his head, sharing a guilty chuckle with his son before Xan settled in to hear the rest of the story, and he settled in to watch his little boy. Slowly but surely, Xan’s lids got heavier and his sleepy blinking became more pronounced as Liz lulled him to sleep.

“And now, adding things up, we are way beyond billions! Our Who’s-Asleep-Score is now up in the zillions! Ninety Nine Zillion, Nine trillion and two Creatures are sleeping! So…how about you?” Liz paused, biting her lip a little as she watched her husband stroke his fingers absently through Xan’s hair. She wondered if he even realized how soothing Xan found that. Or how safe he felt, nestled between the two of them. Clearing her throat, she finished. “When you put out your light, Then the number will be, Ninety Nine Zillion Nine trillion and three…Good night, sweetheart.” Liz whispered, closing the book with a soft whoosh and placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. She sat up carefully, sensing that Max needed some time with his son to simply process everything. Liz bent to kiss Xan goodnight before leaning over to capture her husband’s lips in a gentle, solemn kiss. “I’m going to go take a bubble bath.” She said, shaking her head when Max looked like he might protest. “I’ll be right down the hall. And he knows he’s safe with you.” Liz whispered, shifting carefully from the bed so as not to wake Xan.

Max stared after his wife, her confidence in him blowing across their connection to still his lingering doubts. He might not completely trust his ability as a parent, but he trusted Liz. And she did. It was amazing really, the faith she had in him. And as always, the tangible sense of her love and trust eased his fears and gave him strength. It allowed him to relax, to consign worry to the morrow and simply enjoy the way his son was sleeping so peacefully next to him. Max shook his head, wondering vaguely how anything as simple as watching a child sleep could be so fulfilling. But it was.

The sudden well of emotion was almost painful, but Max could feel Liz with him, navigating the same sharp tangle of emotion that clogged his throat and left him reeling. Taking a deep breath, Max let Liz lead the way, let her soothe their souls and settle their spirits. So many things had led to this moment, but all she’d let him focus on was the love. Their love for each other. And their love for the little boy who was going to share the rest of their life. It was the fulfillment of a promise Max hadn’t even realized he’d been clinging to. Family. It was a simple thing and yet…at it’s heart, so very profound, the intrinsic way it bound people together. Max brushed the hair from Xan’s forehead. “It’s ok, Xan. You’re home now. You’re safe.” Max soothed, when his son’s brows furrowed and he shifted slightly, sighing in his sleep.

His son was home.

Max took a deep breath. His family, his family was finally home. And safe. And in his arms. Right where they belonged. A place for everything, and everything in its place. Max closed his eyes. His wife was absolutely brilliant. “I love you, Xan.” Max whispered, resting his forehead lightly against his son’s and hoping that in some part of Xan’s heart he heard, and understood. Max kissed Xan’s temple lightly, smiling as he felt Liz reach out for both of them, her love blending purely, seamlessly with his own. “Liz and I both love you.”
Last edited by Pathos on Wed Apr 23, 2003 12:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

*************Part 63***************


Max walked slowly down the hall, feeling Liz drifting sleepily in her bubble bath. He would have left her alone to doze, but there was a soft yearning carrying across their connection, a gentle need for her to feel him near that he was helpless to resist. Max knocked at the bathroom door, intending only to relax with his wife and enjoy the solitude that stretched out before the two of them in the wake of the last two weeks. He sighed happily as Liz’s sleepy mood threaded easily through his own spirit, tempting him with the promise of real peace. “I think it’s time for all good girls to be in bed.” Max teased lightly as he opened the door. And then he froze, thoughts of peace forgotten as he stared at his wife. God, she was beautiful! And laying there with her eyes closed and her hair piled atop her head in a messy attempt to keep it from getting wet, she was beyond tempting. Max sucked in a deep breath as Liz sat up a little in the tub, her shoulders breaking the surface of the water, the bare skin teasing him with the knowledge of what lay hidden beneath the bubbles in the tub. With a will of their own, Max’s eyes followed a number of glittering bubbles as they traced a slow path from the slopes of her shoulders to the gentle curve of her breasts. He licked his suddenly dry lips, and swallowed. Hard.

“Who says I’ve been good?” Liz asked, she didn’t need to open her eyes to know that Max’s eyes were dark with their sudden passion, and his manhood was hard and heavy in his pants. Throbbing. Her core was throbbing suddenly at the thought. She shifted a little in the tub, rubbing her thighs together inconspicuously beneath the water. “That turn you on?” she teased huskily.

Max nodded, the tightening in his groin making it difficult for him to remember that Liz’s eyes were closed. He knelt down next to the tub, leaning in to kiss his wife’s temple. “Uh-huh.” He whispered against her ear. He was helpless to stop the wave of desire that swept through him. He saw Liz smile and it only served to increase the heat rapidly infusing their connection. He’d only meant to come keep her company. Really! But she was laying there all sleepy and inviting…and there were bubbles. “You turn me on.”

Liz felt her heartbeat quicken with Max’s sudden proximity, and she shivered a little as his lips nibbled gently along her ear. She felt his hand drop lightly in to the water and her breath caught in anticipation. But all he did was stir the water lightly, causing waves to lap gently at her breasts. Her nipples hardened and the throbbing between her legs increased as she shifted more restlessly against the bottom of the tub. “You should do something about that.” Liz said softly, opening her eyes to nod seriously at her husband.

Max raised his brows. “You know of a twelve step program?” he asked, mock hopefully. He shook the water and bubbles from his hair, wiping a fore arm across his eyes as the remnants of her splash dripped onto the floor. He was unable to keep the grin from his lips as he noticed the significant decrease in the number of bubbles in the bathtub. And the decided increase in the amount of naked Liz now exposed for his hungry perusal. “Was that nice?” Max asked, sitting back on his heels and pulling his wet shirt over his head, then tossing it behind him.

“You deserved it.” Liz replied unrepentantly, her teasing smirk fading as she watched her husband shed his shirt. He was too far away suddenly. She wanted to feel those muscles flexing beneath her fingers, needed to feel the heat of his skin against her body as she wrapped her legs around the hard contours of his muscular frame while he… Liz groaned inwardly as she stared at the droplets of water clinging to Max’s broad shoulders. She licked her lips and resisted the urge to lean forward and lick the remaining dampness from his skin.

Max shrugged, reveling in the spike of desire he could feel from his wife at the action. “Guess I did.” He replied with a smile. “Now, what do you deserve?” he asked rhetorically, leaning forward to once more stir the bath water into a choppy sea that had Liz shifting vainly against the smoothness of the tub. “Close your eyes.” He requested softly.

Liz sighed against her frustration, willingly following his instruction and feeling her excitement, and his, build. She moaned lightly, feeling her core throb with renewed anticipation. Only Max could seduce her without even touching her. “Max, you’re too far away.” She complained.

“I’m right here.” Max whispered, his hand drifting closer to her breast.

“Closer, Max.”

Balancing against the edge of the tub, Max leaned forward to nibble lightly along Liz’s collarbone, dipping low to lick at the hollow of her throat. “How’s this?”

Liz could feel his amusement in the light caress of warm breath against her skin. Her own breathing turned harsh and she shivered lightly as he raised gooseflesh against skin still damp from her bath. “Closer.” Liz moaned, her lids fluttering. She stilled when she felt Max kiss her brow, his lips gentle and soothing, even as the sudden weight of his hand cupping her breast drew a gasp from her lips.

“Keep your eyes closed.” Max admonished softly as he dragged his thumb heavily across her pebbled nipple. He watched in fascination as she nodded, her brows furrowing and her lips parting slightly as she arched into his hand. He loved seeing her like this. Loved feeling her complete trust in him as she gave herself over to the pleasure he was offering. Loved that her passion belonged only to him. It was him she craved. With an unrestrained desire that emboldened and humbled him all at the same time. “What about now?” he asked. He wanted to love her gently, and forever. He wanted to give her everything she craved. And he wanted to feel her come apart while he watched it happen. His own need was forgotten with the sudden desire to watch his wife at her most raging and vulnerable point.

Liz gritted her teeth in frustration as her husband fanned the flames of her passion. Slowly. Too slowly. Her breast felt heavy and alive with sensation against his fingers, but if he didn’t use his other hand for something besides moving the goddamn bubbles around she was gonna… “Closer!” She could feel amusement mingling with the haze of his desire as his lips teased along her jaw. “Max…” She gripped the edge of the tub, her knuckles whitening as Max trailed his fingers to her other breast. But just when she would have commented on his lack of imagination and initiative he captured her lips aggressively, drawing an open mouthed gasp at the sudden contact, which turned quickly into a heated, tongue dueling kiss. Sighing happily, Liz stroked her tongue along Max’s, moaning as their connection tightened around them, their tongues mating in erotic imitation of the completion Max was teasing her with. Panting heavily as their lips parted, eyes still closed, Liz rubbed the tip of her nose gently along the bridge of her husbands, teasing him as she felt his lips lower for another kiss. “Closer…” she tempted.

“If I get any closer I’m gonna be…”

“Inside me?” Liz suggested, opening her eyes to a passion clouded amber gaze that held her fast in its grip.

Max smiled, stealing a quick kiss from his wife. “I was gonna say ‘wet’ but…” he began thickly.

Liz shook her head. “I’m wet enough for both of us.” She tempted archly, and before he could respond she tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a hungry kiss. Thrown off balance, Max tumbled forward, his free hand bracing against the bottom of the tub, scant inches from where she wanted him. “We need to work on your aim.” Liz said, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m willing to work on whatever you want, love.” Max replied huskily. He found his balance and slid his hand along the bottom of the tub until her found the slick folds of her sex. “I aim to please, you know.” He captured Liz’s lips before she could reply, stroking his tongue into her mouth as he teased her opening with a finger.

“Max, please…” Liz panted, breaking the kiss as her head lolled back. She bit her lip against a whimper as her husband stroked gently through her folds, the caress evocative and teasing all at once.

Max moaned as Liz thrust against his hand and her desire spiraled ever closer to uncontrollable, pulling his own along for the ride. Unable to resist any longer, Max gave in to her silent demand and entered her slowly, offering a steady, gentle rhythm to ease her ache.

“Max!” Liz felt her hips buck against his hand as he added another finger to her passage, stroking her steadily toward climax. But it wasn’t enough. She needed…more. Needed him. Now.

“Shhh. I want to watch. I want to see you.” Max whispered against Liz’s ear, before nibbling lower, his tongue snaking out to lick hotly along the slim column of her throat. “I want to feel you come apart.” He continued, his teeth scraping lightly against the fleshy lobe of her ear before his tongue stroked over it to ease the sting.

“Me too.” Liz whispered earnestly, shivering against Max’s lips. She turned her head to capture his heated gaze. “But I want you with me. I want you inside me. I…oh, God…” Liz gasped as his fingers stroked more deeply into her passage, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clit. Involuntarily her eyes closed but she grabbed his arm, stilling his motion even as her hips bucked uncontrollably against his hand. “Max, please!” she demanded, forcing her eyes open to meet his gaze. “You’re too far away.”

Max felt his mouth go dry as he stared into Liz’s glittering black eyes. He could feel her hovering just beyond the brink of release, every nerve ending reaching, yearning for it, even as she held herself back. He wanted this to be for her, but she would have none of it. Even more than the pleasure, she craved him. They were in this, as in everything, together. And he suddenly knew that she needed him with her. Always needed him with her to be whole. Unable to resist the plea in her dark, smoldering gaze, Max nodded slowly, rising to his feet to quickly strip the rest of his clothes from his body. He could feel his cock harden even more as Liz crossed her arms over the edge of the tub and settled her head there to watch, her eyes darkening even more as he revealed himself.

“Beautiful.” Liz breathed softly, her eyes traveling the length of Max’s body as he stepped into the tub. She drew her knees up to give him room and then knelt in front of him as he sank to his own knees in the water. Leaning in to capture Max’s lips, Liz let her other hand wander down the contours of his ridged abdomen. She felt a heady tendril of power as his muscles jerked reflexively against her fingers, his hips thrusting uncontrollably toward her hand as he moaned into their kiss. She teased him briefly, wrapping her hand around his manhood, sliding along it’s length with slow, madding strokes as she forced his controlled arousal to catch up with her own burning need. And then she released him completely to drag her fingers lightly back up his chest. She gloried in Max’s ragged breathing and the raging desire she could feel burning across their connection. Liz stared up at her husband and raised her brows in mock surprise when Max captured her wandering hand and pushed it back towards his cock. “What?” she asked innocently.

“Liz, please…touch me.” Max pleaded, sucking at the sensitive skin just behind her ear. He pulled her closer, feeling the water slosh over the edge of the tub as Liz slid forward. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” Liz teased hoarsely. His cock was lying thick against her belly and the ache between her legs increased with the promise of fulfillment. She reached between them and allowed her fingers to slowly traverse his length, barely touching him. “Or did you mean like this…”

“Liz!” Max growled as his fingers tightened convulsively around her wrist. He wasn’t sure if he were trying to still her achingly slow movements or force a faster rhythm

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, huh?” Liz challenged mercilessly. One of these days he’d remember not to tease her so long. “Payback’s a bitch.” She reminded him idly, removing her hand and feeling his frustration grow steadily apace with his arousal.

Max leaned back a little, capturing his wife’s gaze. “I can take it.” He promised, sitting back and pulling Liz with him so that she was straddling his thighs and he could feel the heat of her core hovering over his straining erection. Thrusting his hips a little, he rubbed himself against her clit. “In fact…” he hinted thickly.

Liz moaned, her breath coming in quick, panting gasps as she suddenly gave in and let herself be swept away by the molten heat of their passion. She held Max’s gaze and slowly lowered herself fully onto his cock, a harsh relieved sigh escaping her lips. The time for teasing was past. All she wanted now was… “Max…” Liz moaned, her head falling back as she registered the slide of his lips against her throat and the harsh exhale of his breath as the heat of his manhood filled her completely. The solid feel of his cock, pulsing so deeply within her was almost enough to send her over the edge, but she gulped in a deep breath, needing this to last, wanting to feel him explode with her. Rocking lightly against him, Liz urged Max to lose his control and follow her. She whimpered as his fingers dug into her hips while he guided her into a steady rhythm up and down his shaft. Catching her breath she took over the pace, rising on her knees before lowering herself fully onto him once again.

“Oh, yes…Liz…” Max closed his eyes, dropping his head against Liz’s shoulder as he slid home, her inner muscles trembling against his hardness and causing his cock to throb in time with her heartbeat. “God, yes…” He held her against him for a moment before releasing his grip on her hips, urging her into the steady rhythm that would bring her to an aching release. He nipped lightly at her throat and bucked his hips against hers, groaning at the way her full, sexy gasps punctuated each of his thrusts.

Liz rode him harder, letting the water help buoy her as she slid up and down Max’s hard shaft. Her inner muscles were already trembling with the steady approach of her release. She bit her lip, wanting to wait for Max but knowing that her body was too far gone. She could feel her climax lurking just a few short strokes away. “Oh, God!” Liz’s deep moan of pleasure was lost in Max’s low growl as he dropped his head to capture one hard nipple between his teeth. Liz gasped as the heat of his mouth warmed her cool, damp skin, and his hands roamed restlessly down her back, fitting her more closely against him as he braced himself against the tub and thrust more forcefully into her sensitive passage

Max slid one arm around Liz’s waist, steadying her rhythm while he watched with possessive fascination as she gave herself over to him and the pleasure of their lovemaking. He could feel her walls pulsing desperately around him as she rode his cock, her desire coaxing, pulling him toward the completion that she was racing for, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain in control. He still needed to feel her, still wanted to see her come apart in his arms.

Liz bit her lip, trying desperately to hold onto the whimpering scream that wanted to break forth from her lips. God! It was like every part of her was on fire. She could feel the heat of Max’s desire spiraling through her, pushing her towards the precipice and almost forcing her body to catch up. “Max….MAX!” He captured her lips in a wet tongue dueling kiss. She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to soothe her need or just silence her shout, but really, it did neither. Her whimpers grew louder and she could hear his moans echoing loudly through the bathroom. Her fingers gripped the side of the tub, searching desperately for purchase, for something solid to hang onto as she rocked into oblivion. But she found nothing real until she wrapped her arms around Max’s neck. “Yes! Max…” Liz closed her eyes, feeling sparks ignite behind her eyes as her climax overtook her, leaving her breathing heavily against Max’s chest., her inner walls clutching desperately at his still hard cock as she shifted against him, searching vaguely for something...more. Liz moaned, sucking in a deep breath as she trembled uncontrollably and Max’s still raging desire kept her clinging to the brink even as a part of herself tumbled over. Her head fell against his shoulder, her thighs aching from their previous exertion. She ignored her aching muscles as her body undulated desperately against his. She raised her head to capture her husbands gaze, swallowing hard at the passion that burned even more fiercely as their connection re-ignited. “Max!” His name was a desperate command to finish what he’d started. Liz shifted in his lap, her oversensitive core a delicious agony of sensation as she writhed against him.

Oh, God! Max sucked in a breath as Liz shuddered against him, the harsh grip of her orgasm an exquisite trial on his hard cock. The pleasure of her tight walls contracting around him while her hips bucked convulsively against his own tore a low growl from his throat before he captured her parted lips. He could feel her desperate need and it only served to catapult his own even higher. He knew that her all too brief release had barely taken the edge off the building sharpness of her passion. She needed more. “I promise, baby, I promise…” He moaned against her throat, the water lapping roughly at their bodies, slicking their skin as they slid against one another. But it wasn’t enough. More, more MORE…it was the same mantra running through Liz’s soul, harder, deeper, closer…MORE of you. ALL of you. The slow, gentle lovemaking he’d envisioned had rapidly fallen away to be replaced with the desperate immediacy of his need. Their need. Their connection was a living breathing thing, their emotions blending so completely as to be almost overwhelming. There was no him anymore, no her. It was only what they craved. Whole. Complete. And past the point of even considering slow and gentle. Catching Liz’s lips in a molten, soul melding kiss, Max hooked his elbows under her knees and stood up suddenly, capturing her surprised, keening sigh with a victorious kiss. The water fell away from them, cascading down their bodies along with the last of the bubbles and Max felt himself harden even more. The sudden feeling of the air against his wet skin chilled him and created a delicious sensory counterpoint to the rippling heat of his wife’s body. Sighing in relief at the ability to move without restraint Max thrust hard into Liz’s body, pushing past the wet silk of her rippling inner muscles as he began the hard, steady rhythm that would bring them to the completion they both craved.

Liz let her head fall back as her husband enlisted gravity’s help to thrust deep inside of her. God, he was so deep! He touched every part of her, had every nerve ending screaming with pleasure, screaming for more as they raced toward completion. Nothing gentle now. Thank God! She could feel her climax trembling just beyond her reach and she could feel Max hovering on the threshold as she clung to his shoulders taking what he offered, and promising so much more. “Max…Max!” Liz inhaled a quick shuddering breath as she wrapped her legs high around his waist, locking her ankles against the small of his back. “Oh, God! Deeper, Max…” Her pebbled nipples slid along the slick contours of his chest, the friction sending shockwaves straight to her core, straight to his heart.

“Oh, yes…Liz!”

“Harder, Max, harder.” Liz pleaded. “More…”

“Yes. God, yes…Harder! More!” Max moaned, echoing her pleas as he panted against her throat, thrusting harder, faster. She was wrapped around him in every way a person could be, her own passion fueling his with the intensity of gasoline thrown on a forest fire. It was almost too much. And never enough

“MAX!”
“LIZ!”

Liz shattered, tiny points of light dancing behind her eyes as her climax tore through her. She knew Max was shuddering against her, felt him steal her hoarse cry of release when he captured her mouth, but all that really registered was the feel of the two of them linked, their souls clinging to one another as they rode out the thunderous pleasure of their love.

Max sank slowly back into the tub, easing them both back down into the water before his knees gave out completely. Using the last of his energy, he stirred a lazy tendril of heat through the rapidly cooling water. Liz sighed against his throat, snuggling deeper as he pulled her closer, both of them unwilling to lose their communion just yet. He rubbed his fingers absently down her bare arm, smiling a little at the shadow pleasure his touch evoked. “Thank you.” Max whispered, gently kissing her, pulling her tightly against him and shivering with his own shadow pleasure at the soft feel of her lips against his bare shoulder. Thank you for your kindness and your bravery. Your support, and the incredible depth of your heart. Thank you for loving my son. Thank you for loving me. But the words weren’t necessary, because she knew. He could feel her being still, and a hushed awe fell over this suddenly sacred moment. There was truly nothing left to hide from anymore. Any remaining shadow that had lingered between them, was gone. There was only freedom. Only love.

Liz raised her head, breathing heavily as she stared down into Max’s eyes, losing herself in the moment and finding herself in the safety of his embrace. “You stole my line.” She whispered. Still feeling the aftereffects of her incredible oragasm. “Thank you.” She kissed her husband gently, stroking her tongue along his in a lazy, gentle imitation of everything that had just transpired, promise and plea all at the same time. Thank you for your gentleness and your strength. For your protection and for coming to me when you need to feel safe. Thank you for your trust and the beauty of your soul. Thank you for your son. Thank you for loving me. He understood, even without the words being spoken aloud. She knew he did. It was such an amazing freedom, having nothing to hide from him. Or from herself. And a great joy in knowing that from now on there could only ever be love between them. “I love you.” Liz whispered.

“I love you, too.” Max replied softly, wrapping her small frame securely in his arms. He wanted to drift with her forever, but he could feel the water starting to cool again and he knew she was getting restless.

“We need to take a quick shower and then get to bed. I don’t want to leave Xan by himself any longer.”

Max gave a slow nod, his brow furrowing briefly. “Liz we’ve been in a bath tub for the last…”

Liz rolled her eyes, placing a finger against her husbands lips. “We were hardly focused on getting clean. And now we’re sweaty and sticky and…and…” Liz fell silent as Max sucked her finger gently into his mouth.

“I don’t know. I kinda liked being dirty.”


******************


Twenty minutes later, Max was standing in the doorway of his bedroom gently stroking his fingers through Liz’s hair, drying it absently as he watched her. Her eyes were soft and misty as she watched Xan sleep. Her entire expression bespoke a soul deep cherishing, and a fear laid permanently to rest. It was the warm fulfillment of a dream he’d never even allowed himself to have. And a dream she’d agonized over, one she’d worried about being able to fulfill for him.

“I don’t know why I was afraid, Max.” Liz said softly, breaking the silence. “He’s so easy to love.” She glanced up at her husband. “I do love him, you know.”

“I know.” Max took a deep breath. “And more importantly, so does Xan.” He whispered earnestly, wrapping his arms around Liz and pulling her back against his chest. “I’ve never been worried, Liz. Not from the first moment I really let myself see you with him.”

Liz nodded, settling back into Max’s embrace and closing her eyes, reveling in the love that always wrapped around the two of them when they were this close. She was grateful that they could finally leave the last of their fear in the past, where it belonged. This last shadow had lingered, unspoken between them for so long that now it was more than a relief to be able to share it openly. And then let it go. “I knew, deep down I knew from the moment that I left the apartment to save him that I’d be bringing him home to you. Because I knew you’d never be able to get so close to him and then just give him up again.” Liz explained, wrapping herself in the warmth of her husbands unqualified acceptance. “I just wasn’t sure that I’d be able to…that I’d be what you and he needed me to be.”

Max shook his head solemnly. “Liz, I know your heart too well. You could never let him down. And you’ve never let me down.”

“I know that, now. I think I’ve known it from the first moment I saw him. And then he hugged me, Max, and it was all over.” Liz said, sighing happily as Max tightened his embrace and soothed the well of emotion that had brought a sheen of tears to her eyes.

“I’m so glad he has you, Liz.” Max whispered.

“He has you, too.” Liz replied softly.

Max nodded pensively as he studied his son’s sleeping form. “How, um…how do you think he’ll take it…when we tell him? I mean, I know it’s too soon to say anything but…I just don’t want him to hate me Liz.”

“Max, stop. He won’t hate you. He doesn’t hate you.” Liz turned and wrapped her arms around her husband. “He…he remembers you, Max…”

“Remembers me?” Max echoed hopefully.

“Your memory? The one you gave him right before…Max, that was such a wonderful gift to give him. You let him know that you loved him and you wanted him safe. And Xan, he’s clung to that. He’s held onto the fact that there’s someone out there who loves him no matter what. He knows you, he just…he hasn’t put it all together yet.” Liz explained sincerely, grateful when she felt Max’s worry ease.

“I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do.” Max admitted softly. “But I couldn’t just let him go without telling him how much I loved him, and how sorry I was about…”

“Max, there’s nothing to be sorry for.” Liz interrupted swiftly. “I can’t tell you exactly how he’s going to react but I can tell you that he knows you love him. We can handle anything else from there.”

Max nodded, the last of his trepidation falling away in the face of her encouragement. And her renewed promise that they would work everything out. Together. “I love you.”

Liz smiled, leaning up to drop a gentle kiss against Max’s lips. “I love you, too. Now lets get to bed before Xan wakes up demanding 12 more stories.”

Max smiled softly as he watched Liz settle in next to Xan. She wasn’t in bed for more than a minute before Xan shifted to curl up next to her, cuddling ever closer until he was laying half over Liz, his head resting against her heartbeat. Max lay down on his right side and reached over to smooth a lock of hair from his wife’s face. “You comfortable?” he asked softly.

Liz nodded, capturing Max’s hand and lacing their fingers together before resting their joined hands lightly against Xan’s back. “Perfect.” She whispered.

Max smiled, his eyes drifting shut once Liz was sleeping peacefully. Definitely perfect.
Last edited by Pathos on Tue Apr 29, 2003 9:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

small A/N -- The picture that Langley is looking at can be viewed here:

http://www.art.com/asp/sp-asp/_/ui--868 ... iament.asp

That's it. Enjoy! :D


*************Part 64******************


Staring at the antique clock on his mantle, Cal Langley watched with seeming absorption as time passed him by. Sighing heavily he shifted his focus to the heavy oil painting hanging just above the clock. Monet’s London, Houses of Parliament, a particular favorite of his since the moment he’d first seen it in the National Gallery. Langley’s two fingers of whiskey sloshed artfully in his glass when he let his hand dangle over the arm of his chair, wrist bent just enough to convey a world weary appreciation for the beauty of the masterpiece. He studied it absently, as he had a thousand times since it’s…acquisition. Like the castle at dusk, he acknowledged, dimly aware of the California sunset streaming through the leaded glass of the picture window behind him. The brilliance of the falling sun cast a warm glow about the room, setting the stage perfectly for…oh, who the hell cared?

What good did setting the stage do him when there was no one in the audience to appreciate his genius? Come to that, what good had ever really come of performing before an audience? They laughed and cried in the appropriate places but rarely were they integral to the momentum of a movie. The plot came and went, with or without witness and in the end the audience escaped to their homes when the credits rolled, while the movie simply waited through the darkness of a silent theatre to repeat itself. Odd that the attempt to mirror the endless repetition of life was so universally entertaining.

Feeling strangely removed from himself, Langley cast an irritated thought at his newfound inclination towards self reflection. Reflection, he’d decided ages ago, was best left to mirrors and the occasional pool in front of tall stone monuments. It was a waste of time and energy, if ever there was one and it did nothing for the average individual except call to mind a past that could be neither relived, nor reshot. The movie plays forward, ladies and gentlemen. Just as it was meant to do, he reminded the annoying echo of unbidden memory. The past was nothing but background…prelude, prologue and more likely than not, scenes to litter the cutting room floor. And the future was merely the sequel waiting to be written. But the present…the here and now…right now he was living the American Dream, baby! And that was the heart of the story. The fucking feel good movie of the year. Rags to riches. Slave to Master. Alien to…illusion.

Langley snorted, briefly marring his own impersonation of solemn contemplation with his disgust for the irony that had always shadowed his existence. But then, illusions were a highly undervalued commodity, he reminded himself. In the end, reality was merely a waking dream. And truth…hell, truth was a joke. It changed with the times, and the people, and the planet, though the innocent belief in its concrete accuracy somehow remained steadfast throughout. Truth, he thought derisively. In the end, truth was simply another word for perspective.

This above all - to thine ownself be true…

“Play it again, Will.” Langley demanded softly, raising his glass in toast. Shakespeare really was one wily bastard. The man was a master of the complete grandiose futility of human life. Hell, life in general. Zan would have enjoyed Shakespeare. He would have been utterly amused at the playwrights guile even as he was utterly offended by his pragmatism. Closing his eyes, Langley pushed the memory of his former liege to the back of his mind. This wasn’t about Zan…though he had also been a wily bastard.

Life is but a poor player that struts and frets its hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury and symbolizing…nothing.

Or was ‘To be or not to be’ more appropriate? That was the crux of being a shapeshifter, wasn’t it? That skewed perspective. The illusion. That simple, illusory moment when he got to pretend to be someone else…when he got to pretend to be. And even now, in the midst of this odd metaphysical crossroads where illusion and reality met and fought to the death – hopefully, for the sake of his sanity, at least – even now, it was all just one long transitory moment. He’d made a life of those moments. And he was hardly alone in the practice. The world was peopled by a vast array of beings intent on making their own rules and drawing their own existence. He was simply better at it than most. Which wasn’t entirely his fault. Illusion stood at the very heart of what he was. It was in his blood, threaded through the very fabric of his being until there was no distinguishing who he was without it. That Zan had somehow believed him honorable was in no way, his fault. He was a shapeshifter, for the love of Fate! Shapeshifters, by definition, were neither stalwart nor true. And honor and duty, like atheism in a foxhole, were mere illusions of face and form, easily shucked with the simple changing of ones skin. Others may have loaned him their noble intentions but Langley’d never bought into that shit! And he never would. There was a time to fight and a time to retreat. And his ability to recognize the time to retreat had yet to fail him. Glancing to his right, Langley stared briefly at the small disk hovering next to his cell phone. Sneering at it, he placed his drink on the smooth surface, until the vibration forced him to pick it up again. A blind man could see that it was time to retreat.

So what the fuck was his problem?

Why hadn’t he left? Why had he stepped past his packed trunks and suitcases in order to come ponder a chaotic mess of grease and pigment? What did he care about Monet or London, Houses of Parliament ? Why did he care about what Elizabeth Evans would think of him when he was gone?

She reminded him of Zan, Langley realized, almost shocked by his own observation. They were too much alike, each of them capable of nothing less than the strict adherence to the principle of their choice. No matter how ill advised or idiotic it may be. And if he were being honest, which it seemed he was - whether he liked it or not - she reminded him of so many other things he’d rather just forget. Foremost among them, the fact that she’d saved his life. She’d protected him. And not because she liked him, either. In fact he’d bet a large portion of his next movie’s profits that Elizabeth Evans couldn’t stand him. But she’d saved his life. Because it was her duty. Her duty, his conscience hammered home with startling persistence. And beyond the shrill howling of his conscience he could hear the deep groaning of his pride. She’d protected him. And Xan. Simply because it was right. Fool. She’d end up just as dead as…just as dead as Zan had. Taking a large swallow of whiskey, Langley grimaced appropriately and swore silently. His conscience, like his fucking imperative, needed to go the hell back to sleep, he decided furiously.

Aimlessly following the last rays of dusk filtering through the dark amber liquid in his glass, Langley leaned forward, his attention caught once again by the painting. There was something about it suddenly. Something that tugged at his memory…oh, who the hell cared? He’d realized long ago that sunsets were the same all over the universe. And so were castles. Only…it wasn’t a sunset at all.

Langley blinked, his glass arrested in mid air as he saw the painting as if for the first time. Flames, he realized, feeling almost choked by the thick smoke that seemed to reform around him, pulled from a memory he’d never dwelled on and never wanted to have in the first place. By the Fates there were so many flames…

Kahl-aingly stared in mute horror at the scene before him, at the flames which slid menacingly along the outer gate, demanding further entrance for their creator. Barking orders across the communicator, Kahl organized his unit to create the small pocket of space that would allow for a retreat . Then he watched, breath caught in his throat as the General dragged Zan from the battle, leaving the Queen and his own treacherous wife to their fate. Shaking himself back into the present nightmare Kahl reached out and caught his King as Rath stumbled and fell to the ground, biting back against the pain but unable to bring himself to move.

“Majesty, we must get you to safety…” Kahl whispered urgently, ignoring the heaviness of Zan’s body. The flat portal screen above the heavy door in the Great Hall showed more of Khivar’s troops advancing from the cover of the forest, ,the dense harbinger of their victory roaring hotly before them. Stealing himself against the sight of the destruction, made somehow more horrifying for the fact that someone had thought to turn the sound off on the monitor, Kahl drew himself to his full height, holding his King upright in the process. “Majesty, please. We must hurry.”

Zan shook his head, turning his face away from the portal, though the echoes of the screams from those dying on the battlefield still echoed loudly in his ears. He tried to pull free of Kahl as his entire body was wracked by a cough. By the Fates he was such a fool. “Kahl, No. There is nothing…”

“There’s nothing you can do here, Zan, go!” Rath rallied enough to shove himself to his knees. “Get out of here.” He ground out faintly.

Kahl stared across the hall at Rath, his concern growing exponentially the longer the General remained still. The softness of his voice had been a telling sign of his injuries. It was the only time Kahl could remember him speaking below a booming shout. And for a man who had always been loud enough to be heard above a battle, even in the quiet of a ballroom, the hush of his voice made him seem small, somehow…mortal. And utterly defeated. Clamping down on his panic, Kahl attempted to pull Zan from the hall, while at the same time focusing on maintaining his form. The intense heat from the fire currently eating through the castle gates, which they’d only just managed to get closed after Khivar’s initial attack, reacted strangely with his physiology. The heat was deeper than any he’d ever felt before, denser, and it was making it difficult to hold his shape. They were culling the imposters, Kahl realized, risking a glance at the portal where a number of his fellow shifters had lost their form and were now falling before Khivar. “Zan, please…” he whispered desperately, tugging at his King. “We must leave!”.

Rath glanced outside, his head falling against his chest in defeat. “Get the hell out of here you bastard.” He ordered softly, closing his eyes against the sight of his wife falling and laying still upon the ground. By the Fates, why hadn’t he paid attention to what she was doing?

Zan drew himself to his full height, hissing slightly against the pain the movement caused. “Bastard?” He breathed out with difficulty. “Treason is still punishable by death, you know.”

Rath laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “I think Mother Serenity is going to beat you to it, old friend.”

Zan nodded. “Indeed” He paused for a moment before continuing, his words carefully measured. “There’s nowhere for me to go.” He asserted softly. “Mother Serenity may reach you first, but she will be kissing the breath from my lips soon enough.”

Kahl started, suddenly aware of the moisture against his palm. “Majesty…” he whispered, aghast.

“There are worse things.” Zan offered a sardonic half smile at Raths snort. “I can’t think of any at the moment, either.” He sighed, his chest heaving and finally losing the battle against a vicious cough. “Send someone...” He ground out. “Please, Kahl. Send someone to give them the rights.”

Before Kahl could even open his mouth to argue the command, Rath’s derisive shout burst forth, offering a blistering slew of profanities in response to Zan’s request.

“What did he say?” Zan asked mildly.

Kahl blinked, realizing only then that Rath had spoken in the Shapeshifters native tongue and not simple Antarian. He hadn’t realized the General was fluent enough in his language to know the insults. “Er, um…he doesn’t agree that it’s worth the risk to our front.” Kahl translated loosely. Very loosely.

“And I mentioned that you were an egocentric fool, clearly bent on your own destruction!” Rath added angrily.

“Behold my success!” Zan snapped back. He ignored the apologetic softening of Rath’s harsh features. “I can’t leave them out there. They didn’t know what they were doing. They didn’t know the destruction they would bring.”

Rath glared, voicing his clearly dissenting opinion without saying a word.

“It was foretold.”

“I don’t believe in Seer’s.” Rath stated, staring at the chaos of the battle, his fists clenched angrily.

Zan smiled sadly. “Nor do I.” He nodded at Khivar’s advancing front line. “But they were right.”


Breathing heavily, though he knew the acrid stench of smoke and death still wafting through his being no longer existed, Langley focused on the simple task of shattering and repairing the molecules of his glass while still keeping the liquid from spilling. When that did nothing to still the memories playing out behind his eyes, he closed them, shaking his head back and forth in an attempt to loosen the images from his mind. But to no avail. They may as well have been there still, the flames eating at the ramparts. While he ran, while he fled a dying planet along with his duty. And self respect.

Self respect is overrated, Langley reminded himself sternly. Ask any actress. A person has to make sacrifices if they’re gonna be anyone in this world. In any world.

When was the last time you were a person? A small voice, long muted, asked in mild curiosity.

Langley snorted. Been a hell of a long time since he was that person, anyway. And even longer since he’d been anything more than useless.

There are worse things than the position you’ve been granted…it’s a promotion Kahl, not a summons to appear at your own execution.

There were always worse things…until there weren’t. Langley shook his head. Zan never had understood that. Of course, a lifetime later, Langley wasn’t certain that he did. Shifting slightly to stare out the window, Langley watched the sun set on his magnificent view. That’s what he loved about this planet. No matter where you were there was always a fucking view. Well, almost anywhere…

With a will born of necessity Langley blinked back the cold memory of the four white walls that had caged him for so long. That was then. This was now. This room of tasteful extravagance and luxurious comfort…there was nothing beyond it at the moment, nothing that mattered anyway. Except of course his own muted reflection, cast in the glass of the window before him, calling him a liar. At least the liquor was good, he acknowledged, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Almost grateful for the sudden mantle of the night, Langley raised his whiskey to his lips and swallowed, his features tensing briefly in a practiced grimace, as if the full weight of the whiskey had finally hit him. Langley snorted. As if it would ever hit him.

You exercise the lie even when you’re alone with your own thoughts, hmmm? The voice, which had moved well past fucking annoying, questioned with biting smoothness.

Langley gritted his teeth and glared past his reflection into the night sky. Goddamn voice was a holdover from the past, a holdover from a person who no longer existed. And it was useless as he’d been then. As useless as he was now, Langley admitted, closing his eyes. And in the warm darkness that daily followed the suns descent, it was those useless voices from the past which continued to haunt him

Whiskey burns when you swallow it, Cal.

Langley snorted, raising his glass in silent toast to the blonde who had, almost a lifetime ago, offered that simple, if utterly surprising, observation. Amazing the depth of the five senses. And the shallow interest of one actress. She’d offered her lesson and then raised eyes dangerously bright and knowledgeable to his own stunned gaze. Her first mistake had been in not letting it go. Her second, in trying to bring her other lover in on the secret.

Haven’t forgotten that one, Langley thought, taking another drink and once again offering the appropriate face to his nonexistent public. Haven’t forgotten that it’s no goddamned use, either. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the tinkling music created as ice met ice met glass. And then he brought the crystal to his lips and swallowed. There was no burn as the alcohol slid down his throat, no promise of a convenient amnesia if he drank enough…no refuge from a memory that was suddenly determined to keep him company through his odd crisis of conscience. Or self. Or duty. Or whatever this sudden, fucking crisis had to do with.

Never trust a King who offers you freedom.

“Words to fucking live by!” Langley announced, enjoying the way his voice echoed through the empty room and ignoring his pride, which rebelled against accepting the counsel of a traitor. No one had ever said Nekar was stupid…well, he had. But that wasn’t the point. Kings need subjects, after all. No matter what they say. But in the absence of the imperative it was the echo of Zan’s last command that reverberated through his mind.

Protect my heir.

And the voice of his youth, which rebuked him.

I will not fail.

Langley closed his eyes. If only he had known then what it would mean to follow the coursing power of the imperative as it pushed him to do his King’s bidding. Strange, he realized how the imperative had been almost a myth to him, until that moment. He’d never seen the need for it because doing his duty had been an honor. Langley snorted derisively. Honor. Honor existed until you had to choose between will and right. And then the only thing that made one honorable was a fucking imperative!

Not everyone… His voice reminded him, unbidden.

Elizabeth Evans. Langley shook his head, still galled by the realization that she’d protected him. Without anything forcing her to do so. And furthermore, even without an imperative he was fairly certain that Liz would go through anything as long as Max was waiting for her on the other side. Not that such knowledge was surprising, really. Liz’s devotion to Max was practically legendary amongst their little band of misfits. Would have been pathetic, really, had Max not proven his own to be at least as strong. Yet even such a devotion would have been forgiven for rebelling against the responsibility for another woman’s child…wouldn’t it? Certainly most women would have forced a choice…offered Xan up as a sacrificial proof of their husband’s own love and devotion. Or, at the very least pointed out the insanity of raising a child on the run. And yet, Liz had done none of those things. Langley was half convinced that they’d never even occurred to her. Instead, she’d taken that little boy into her home. And her heart, he was sure. And she’d done it of her own free will.

Fool. Didn’t she realize that such blind trust led…somewhere unfathomable. Langley shook his head, unable to even begin to grasp that kind of love. Unwilling to try. Love, he reminded himself, meant something else entirely for him. A servitude, a loss of identity that went beyond anything a human could imagine. Even the temporary connections he could form, meant nothing compared to the strength of his ‘higher calling.’ The Imperative was everything, at least to him. It meant little to those who commanded him.

Shaking himself harshly, Langley tried to pull himself from the past. He was grateful that Meredith had left him to his own devices today, sensing even before he did the pressing need for solitude. Sighing heavily he acknowledged that he’d be more grateful for the solitude if the silence he’d been longing for over the last few weeks came with it. But lately…ever since being a protector had once again become a 24/7 occupation, silence had been in ridiculously short supply.

For even beyond the voices that wanted to draw him back to the past, it was the voice of his long dead master which rebuked him for his failures in the present with the measured tone that would surely have met his ears had Zan still been alive. The fool had always had the strangest ability to take few things personally. It was one of the many things that had gotten him killed.

Feeling sorry for yourself, old man?

“So what if I am?” Langley bit out, before rolling his eyes at his own idiocy. What the hell was wrong with him? Even telepaths considered it uncouth to speak to the voices in their head. Though they were more interesting than further contemplation of the intricate workings of Liz Evans psyche. It was futile. And as useless to the cause as she was.

Well, not entirely useless. She did save your sorry hide, didn’t she?

Walked right into that one, Langley acknowledged. Sighing heavily, he wondered if shock therapy were feasible for someone with his physiology. Probably not, considering his previous encounters with electricity. And he was suddenly aware that there was nothing on this planet that would wash the bitter taste of…shame, he realized incredulously. Shame. What the fuck do I have to be ashamed about? Langley questioned silently, ignoring the glass as it shattered in his hand and left whiskey dripping from his fingers.

Good protectors rarely find occasion for their charges to save their lives. It’s somewhat…backwards. Really, it’s just plain wrong. The voice replied easily, taking his rhetorical question as a serious inquiry.

Only the very young and the very foolish believed in such absolutes as right and wrong. Or duty. Langley closed his eyes against the whispered reminder that it wasn’t so very long ago that he had been that young.

“And that foolish!” Langley pointed out harshly, he didn’t want to go back to that person, he hated that servitude. But he was already defeated. Damn voices. “I’m his protector, not his nanny. He’s alive, that’s all anyone can ask of me.” He rationalized angrily while lessons, hard learned and invaluable roared with headache inducing vigor through his mind.

Never trust a king who offers you freedom.

Never trust a director who tells you he can bring it in under budget.

Never trust a shapeshifter who…well, never trust a shapeshifter.

Never trust your conscience when you find it counseling…well, never trust your conscience.

Never leave alien artifacts lying around where they can wake you up in the middle of the night and remind you of things best left forgotten…


Like duty. Or love. Because they’re both four letter words. And in the grand tradition of four letter words everywhere, they worked better as a curse than a devotion, for most people anyway. As if drawn, Langley’s thoughts returned to his King and Queen and he wondered idly if they’d describe their love as curse or devotion. Knowing the two of them…shaking his head, Langley acknowledged that it didn’t matter what anyone else labeled their love. Their perspective was all that mattered, though they were undoubtedly the exception. Whatever else the poets may wish to assert, losing oneself in another person, losing oneself in anything, including a noble cause rarely envisaged such completion. Rather, it generally left a broken thing in its wake. A shell. The shell of a human, the shell of an Antarian…it didn’t matter for he’d only just realized that for him the choice wasn’t either, or, but rather, neither, nor. Laughing without humor he acknowledged that without even intending it, he’d become a character in search of a fucking author.

Until, utterly against his will, she’d found him.

And, like Zan, she’d begun to define him in ways that went even beyond his imperative. Bitch. He wished to the Fates she’d never entered his life. Because the truth was, Elizabeth Evans reminded him of a responsibility he no longer wanted…and, really, no longer deserved. Langley sighed. And here he’d thought he was over this shit, over the imperative, over his slavery, and over the blind faith that had led to this exile in the first place. But then, it was Zan’s arrogant open mindedness, even more than the imperative that had always bound him so securely to his master’s side. Who else would have dared the wrath of the council by nominating a shapeshifter to a position of authority within the Legion? What other King would have even thought to promote him, to ask the opinion of a subservient? None other. Only Zan. It was the reason Langley had refused his freedom the long ago day it had been offered. The reason, he supposed tiredly, that he’d do it again if given the choice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I knew I shoulda left when I had the chance.” Langley offered tiredly, glancing at his packed trunks. Fuck it. I like LA. I like this planet. And as for the rest of it…

It was everything the scientists had claimed, this second chance. Langley remembered clearly his first view of the planet, a strange bastion of smog and wild freedom.. Young…unfinished. Serene. Safe…as it must be to raise the heir to adulthood. Their desperate attempt to preserve something already lost, he thought sadly. He’d never wanted to be part of that…but, as then, he had no choice.. It was to be the first time in over 1000 years that the failsafe of casting the heir from a childless King’s genetic material was to be implemented, keeping the line, in essence, unbroken.

It was ironic, Langley thought, that this wild, unfinished planet had a safety that Antar, known almost universally for it’s peacefulness, lacked. On Antar the two moons, situated as they were against opposite poles of the planet, kept any hint of a tide from disturbing the ocean, leaving the landscape still and peaceful. Water like glass, pure and reflective with no hint of the danger lying underneath. The other four planets had always chafed against one another, pulled to opposite positions as easily as the moons manipulated their opposing tides. But Antar was the jewel of the five. Beautiful and serene…peaceful. And ignorant of everything that lay just below the surface. Taking a deep breath, Langley acknowledged that her fall from innocence was a harsh, though necessary thing. He’d fallen into the trap of believing that the depths of the ocean would be just as peaceful as the surface. But there was nothing peaceful about the beings who rose from the darkness to tear them apart from the inside out. Nothing peaceful about being betrayed. By the one person you’d never imagined capable of such a thing. But then, Zan had always surprised everyone with what he was capable of.

Rolling his eyes at his own melancholy poetics, Langley reluctantly turned his thoughts to the problem at hand. Isabel…Vilandra…whoever. She was still the biggest royal pain in the ass that Langley had ever seen. After Ava. He didn’t even want to think about Tess, he realized, grimacing for real this time. But singing with the tenured strength of the newly converted, Langley’s conscience reminded him of his own role in that whole fiasco. He should have simply destroyed them both before he left the pods to slumber and mature. Had it been up to him he would have left Ava and Vilandra both to rot on Antar. A Queen who had, too late, seen fit to try to thwart the plans of her conspirators was no one to be trusted. Her sudden change of heart had been forseen and she’d fallen trying to protect the husband she’d been betraying for the last year. Vilandra, sweet, petty, ridiculous and fragile, Vilandra. Zan never could rebuke either of them the way they deserved. Even after their betrayal, even after it was clear that they’re lines were poisoned, he wouldn’t even contemplate not giving them what he’d seen as a second chance. A heart such as his couldn’t fathom their ferocity. It was the same heart that had seen what generations of Kings and Princes had chosen to ignore – that the race of people who had been engineered to serve actually had feelings of their own, were deserving of rights and protections - it was the same heart that had started a war which ended his own life.

Kahl hesitated, struck motionless on the threshold of the pod chamber by the sudden grasping of the lifeline that had always existed between he and Zan. The one way connection, which Zan had kept dormant the whole of Kahl-aingly’s life was suddenly live and vibrating with the last sense of who the King was. Kahl struggled under the weight of the images pouring forth and the stark finality of the words from scrolls he should never have had access to.

The King shall fall…That peace may reign…

“Majesty…” Kahl whispered, buffeted by the unbridled emotions of his King. Zan’s lack of focus was clear in the rush of thoughts across the normally contained emergency lifeline. Kahl shook his head, for the first time cursing the connection that branded him the protector of the King. The one way connection was supposed to be a way for a Protectors’ charge to call for help, a method of communication that the enemy couldn’t tamper with and that would give location and situation updates in real time. But there was nothing practical Kahl could do with the information coming across, nothing he could glean of position or strategy that would save Zan’s life. And so he was left offering nothing but the empty comfort of his presence. “Zan?”

Zan glanced up from his silent perusal of the pods. He was leaning heavily on the table where his sisters body lay, his face ashen and his vision swimming with the enormity of what he’d seen in the scrolls.

Destiny made flesh…Nobility harvested from weakness…and Beauty binding time…

Zan shook his head. The whole damn prophecy was running together, making no sense…making him crazy. He glanced around the pod chamber, briefly wishing that she’d appear to once again assure him of the scroll’s veracity. And then he cursed himself as a coward for wishing anyone into the disaster so quickly overtaking him. Besides, she’d assured him on more than one occasion that it would all unfold as it should.

Swallowing hard, Zan crunched the parchment in his hand. The Present he had wrought, but the Future he would only know from the pages of a scroll. Ah, well. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Looking to where Rath’s body rested motionless against the wall, he sighed. He was fairly certain that Kahl wouldn’t appreciate his humor at this particular moment. Rath would have. And at one time his sister…shaking himself from the heavy memories that beckoned, Zan glanced down at the paper now fisted in his grip, absently noting details; the way the fragile parchment cut lightly into his palm, the way the gilded roll it had been wrapped around was rocking back in forth on the floor where it had fallen, the way the ink was bleeding through the parchment. Oh. Not ink. Shaking his head, Zan turned back to Kahl. There was one more duty he had to dispatch and then he could sleep. He’d already fallen, after all. “Kahl-aingly, most loyal of all my servants…I entrust to you my progeny. I entrust to you the Future. You will protect them.”

Kahl-aingly nodded solemnly. He would perform his King’s command and then return to see to his safety. “I will see the pods to the ship. Lejahd is…”

“No!” Zan shook his head. “ No. You will go with them.”

“Majesty…”

“No arguments, Kahl. You will go with them. You will protect them.”

Kahl’s brows rose in shock and he shook his head, uncaring that the action signaled treason. “I will not leave you…” He gasped a little at the unfamiliar feel of the internal conflict that was suddenly raging through his system. He had a duty to protect his King, to die for him. He’d be damned if he let Zan banish him to this favor.

Zan’s fist crashed against the head of the table, the vibration traveling painfully through his body and unsettling the royal circlet that had clung tenaciously to his brow until that moment. He ignored the clatter of metal on stone as it fell to the floor. “You will go with them. You will protect my heir. Now!”

Kahl stared, the imperative already forcing him from the room as the scientists gathered the pods. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t. He was supposed to be dead before his master, never watching and never helpless to protect him. Kahl-aingly trembled under his first, painful understanding of conflict, the first realization that whatever else Zan had preached about freedom, in the end Kahl-aingly’s free will meant nothing to him. His liege had no qualms about stealing honor as easily as he’d granted it. “I will not fail.” He vowed, voice strangled as he turned his back on his King and headed for the ship.


Langley sighed, wishing there was a way to avoid his memory. And his responsibility. But neither seemed to be going anywhere. He’d boarded that ship utterly numb, fighting the Imperative, and aware of it for the first time in his life …because his purpose no longer meshed with that of his leader. With all the zeal and fervor of youth he’d pledged himself, willingly, to his liege, to Zan’s cause, to Zan’s honor. To Zan. He had considered it an honor to serve him. And it would have been even more of an honor to die protecting him. And that was the rub. Idealistic and proud, his moment had been stolen from him and he’d been betrayed by the one person he’d believed incapable of such treachery. Servitude and Imperative aside, Zan had betrayed him the moment he’d died, alone.

A strange irony, perhaps, but there it was. And Langley had always enjoyed irony. The little things, like a King enslaved by a fight for freedom. Like a slave commanding a regiment. Like someone who’d finally rediscovered reality only to find that a waking dream is the only way to survive it. Like a shapeshifter who’d shifted so much he couldn’t remember who he’d been and suddenly wasn’t sure who he was. Or maybe a Queen who had traded her freedom for love and found…something Langley knew he couldn’t even imagine. There was something in that, he supposed, something of a grandiose theme of human truth…. Vaguely he wondered if he’d be able to wring a movie out of this whole miserable experience. Probably not, he decided. Who the hell believed in fairy tales anymore? Not him. Not after this morning.

Sighing heavily, Langley stared at the metallic silver disc, glowing faintly in the darkness of the room and felt his past reaching forward to define his future. Beyond even the strength of the Imperative, which bound him to his King, Langley found that he couldn’t ignore the last shred of his honor which demanded his recognition of a loyalty that would forever belong to his Queen. Because the inconsiderate woman had saved his fucking life. And in the suddenly chill darkness of his great room, Langley found that it wasn’t the voice of his youth, but rather his own worried tenor that admitted that he had no idea how to protect them from what was coming.

Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do and…

Should have stuck with Shakespeare, Langley thought, shaking his head. Right. That last goddamn shred of honor was just long enough to hang himself with.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Joined: Tue May 28, 2002 1:13 pm
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Post by Pathos »

*************Part 65a*************

It seemed like a good idea at the time, Max thought ruefully. Wasn’t that the way most tales of plans gone horribly awry began? He couldn’t count the number of times he’d overheard that statement in high school right before someone recounted a story that invariably ended with them in detention…or jail, waiting for their parents. Wincing slightly, Max supposed that he had a few of those stories himself. And then there was Michael who seemed to have adopted that phrase as his motto.

But really, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, Max defended silently. After all, how else was he going to figure out what Xan liked and disliked? Going to the grocery store together had seemed like a prime opportunity. Max shook his head as he picked up another box of cereal. He should have known he was missing something when Liz sat down and wrote him a list instead of just sending him out for the ‘peanut butter, jelly and few other essentials’ she had been going to pick up. And while he hadn’t been wrong exactly, after what seemed like a week in the store, that was a small comfort. “What about this one, pal?”

“I don’ like dat stuff. Da guy talks funny.” Xan announced, shaking his head at Max and pointing at the leprechaun on the Lucky Charms box.

Max nodded, pressing his lips together to hold in his sudden amusement. Talks funny. Right. “Ok, next.” Replacing the box of cereal, Max grabbed the next brand. “What about this?” he asked, showing Xan the cover and wondering if they’d actually make it out of the store before nightfall.

Xan shook his head again, unimpressed by the three little men on the box. “Dewre’s no taste in dat one.”

Or his sons next birthday. Max sighed. He couldn’t really fault Xan’s judgment. It took more sugar and Tabasco than even he thought wise to give Rice Krispies any flavor. Inching down the aisle, Max skipped the Special K, Shredded Wheat and other ‘healthy’ cereals before grabbing a box of Honey Nut Cheerios in one hand and a box of Frosted Flakes in the other. “Ok, Xan what about theses?”

Xan nodded happily. “I like dem.” He pointed at the Frosted Flakes. “And dey’re Gwwweat!”

Max laughed. “Absolutely. And the tiger doesn’t even talk funny.” He added.

“He’s not a weal tigewr, Max, he’s a cawtoon. Weal tigewr’s don’ talk.” Xan pointed out seriously.

“Sure they do. They just don’t speak English.”

“Nuh-uh.” Xan said.

“Uh –huh.” Max contradicted lightly. “They speak tiger.”

“Nuh-UH.” Xan persisted. “Dey Woawr.” He added, letting a little growl slip into his pronunciation of the word. “Gwrrrrr. Like dat, Max.”

Max grinned down into his son’s serious face. “Yeah, but when they roar it has to mean something, right?” he asked, first wondering how they’d gone from discussing cereal, to jungle animals. And then wondering if he’d ever get used to the sudden 180 degree turns that a conversation with a four year old tended to take.

Xan pursed his lips thoughtfully as he considered Max’s point. “I guess yow’re wight.” He finally agreed. “Whatta ya tink dey’wre sayin’?” he asked curiously.

Max shrugged. “Maybe they’re saying hi to their friends.”

“Yeah.” Xan agreed, swinging his feet absently. “Hey, wha’ bout lions? Dey talk?”

“I think they probably speak lion.” Max replied, stilling Xan’s flailing feet and moving to stand in front of the cart.

“And beawrs?”

Ahhh, someone had been watching too much Wizard of Oz. “I think bears probably speak bear.” Max replied. “What about alligators?” he asked, cutting Xan off at the pass.

Xan grinned. “Dey talk al’gatowr. An’ dogs talk dog an’ cats talk cat an’…”

Max shook his head a little, listening as his son happily listed every animal he could think of. “Ok, Xan. What’s next on that list?” he asked, interrupting gently.

Xan glanced down at the list in his hand, easily switching gears to focus back on the task at hand. “Is all done ‘cept fowr da…cept fowr dis.” He replied, holding out the list and pointing at the one word that Max hadn’t crossed off.

“That’s the cereal.” Max explained, crossing it off the list.

“Dat’s it?” Xan asked, twisting around in his seat so that he could look at their full basket.

“That’s it.” Max agreed, taking a quick inventory. He wrinkled his nose a little when he caught sight of the Macaroni and Cheese Liz had planned for dinner tonight. It had to be one of the blandest meals ever created. Even with chili…which was also in the basket. “You big on Mac and Cheese?”

Xan shook his head as he turned back to look at Max. “Not weally.” He hedged, knowing Liz had put it on their list. “Is kinda…”

“Bland?”

Xan blinked. “Wha’s bland?” he asked, pronouncing the new word carefully.

“Bland means it doesn’t have much taste.”

“Oh. Den yeah, is bland.”

“Right.” Looking down the aisle, Max couldn’t help but notice the large, cardboard advertisement for barbecue sauce. “Hey, do you like barbecue?”

Xan nodded. “I like bawrbecue chicken…an’ hambuwrgewrs wit bawrbecue sauce on dem.” Xan’s eyes lit up as something else occurred to him. “Hey, you evewr had a hambuwrgewr wit bawrbecue sauce an’ tamasco?” he asked curiously.

Max nodded. “They’re the best, pal. What do you say we surprise Liz and get barbecue stuff instead of Macaroni and Cheese? How does that sound?”

“Dat sounds weally good.” Xan replied with a grin. And then his face fell. “But Max…dat’s not on the list.” He pointed out, biting his lip in consternation. He’d done enough shopping with Liz during their car trip to know that you were supposed to make out a list and then stick to it. Otherwise there was no organization. And Liz hated when there was no organization. “Membewr? She said dat we din’t need anyting else after dis.”

“We’ll just tell her we voted to amend the list.”

“Wha’s ‘mend?” Xan asked, thinking the word sounded promising.

“It means we just changed the list a little. Trust me, she won’t mind. She likes barbecue, too.” Suddenly inspired, Max added. “ It can be a Welcome Home’ barbecue. Liz’ll love it.”

Xan’s brow furrowed as he wondered who was coming home, and then he remembered Isabel. “Is fowr yowr sistewr?” he asked uncertainly, growing restless with the sudden prickling along his memory.

Max shook his head absently. “Nah, Iz doesn’t need a welcome home barbecue.” He replied, heading toward the meat aisle. “And we’re gonna need dessert…how’s Rocky Road sound?” Max stopped short at the sudden feeling of his son’s discomfort echoing across his connection with Liz. His brows drew together in confusion. Xan hadn’t reached for Liz once in the entire time they’d been out…until now. And for the life of him, Max couldn’t figure out what he’d said to make the little boy so worried. Pulling the cart to a stop he looked down into his son’s face. “Xan? What’s the matter, pal?”

Xan shook his head, unable to understand much less explain the strange image that was still hovering in his memory. It was like something he’d seen on TV, only not that sharp and it felt…sad. He could see Max crushing Liz in his arms and… Xan frowned, wishing the picture was more clear because it almost seemed like…it almost seemed like Max was…crying. As if someone, someone Max loved very much had to leave home and he was afraid he’d never see them again. Blinking a little, Xan looked up at Max, who was standing right in front of him. But even as the image faded from his mind, Xan couldn’t help feeling more and more uncomfortable with the overwhelming sense of loss that had yet to leave him. The feeling was somehow familiar, which was even more distressing and Xan suddenly wished that Liz had come with them

Max took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm in the face of the tears he could see slowly gathering in his son’s eyes. He knew Xan didn’t need anyone adding to his sudden panic, and he could also feel Liz reaching out for him, steadying Xan’s emotions with her own calm. “Xan? You want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, cupping Xan’s chin so that the little boy would meet his gaze.

Xan bit his lip. The way Max was rubbing warm circles against his back was comforting but…Xan took a deep breath, feeling Liz gently reassuring him that he was safe. “But…who’s comin’ home?” he whispered worriedly, his shoulders raised in an exaggerated expression of confusion. There wasn’t a whole lot of room at the apartment and if someone else was coming home…where did that leave him?

Max exhaled a relieved breath, feeling his worry recede now that he knew what Xan was upset about. “Nobody’s coming, pal. You’re already here.” Max replied quietly, holding his son’s gaze and nodding seriously.

Xan blinked, his distress over the strange flash of memory forgotten as he allowed himself to see the easy reassurance in Max’s gentle gaze. “Is fowr me?” he asked, pointing at his chest.

“Is for you.” Max affirmed solemnly, grateful to feel the last of Xan’s trepidation fall away into an endearing rush of bashful pride. Pressing a light kiss against his son’s forehead, Max closed his eyes happily. “It took a long time for you to get here, Xan.” He explained.

Xan nodded seriously, relaxing easily in Max’s company now that there was nothing to worry about. “Dat cawr wide was weally, weally long.” He agreed.

The car ride was the least of it, Max thought. He felt Liz prod somewhat anxiously at his suddenly somber mood and forced himself to leave the weight of the last three years behind. “Yeah, it was really long.” Taking a deep breath, Max smiled down at his son. “Ok, back to the fun stuff. We were talking about dessert, weren’t we?”

Xan nodded happily. “Yeah. Anyting but Jello.”

“Oh, really? What’s wrong with Jello?” Max asked curiously.

Xan shuddered dramatically and clutched his neck as he pretended to gag. “Feels funny in my thwoat.” He explained, once he stopped giggling at his own theatrics.

Max laughed. “Right. No jello. Rocky Road? With hot fudge?”

“An’ tamasco?”

“Absolutely.” Max replied as they continued happily down the aisle. The grocery store, he decided, really had been an inspired idea.

********************************************

Sighing in defeat, Liz dropped the book she’d been staring at for the last hour and glanced at the clock. Again. With a roll of her eyes she wondered how it was possible that she could make it to the store and back in 30 minutes at the most, while Max couldn’t find his way back in under two hours. And even though she knew there was nothing wrong, she found that she couldn’t help feeling a little anxious. Which was ridiculous. Xan was with his father for God’s sake. It’s not like Max would ever let anything happen to him. And it’s not like she wouldn’t know if something had happened. But, after Xan’s brief panic earlier, Liz was finding it difficult not to be…clingy, she realized. Shaking her head over her own paranoia, Liz nonetheless reached out and brushed lightly against Xan’s consciousness, just enough to reassure herself that he was fine. Which was normal, she told herself, he’d been through a lot and he needed to know that she was right there. And, she admitted silently, it eased her own mind to know that Xan was there, and safe.

Liz smiled when she felt Xan respond absently to her presence. Whatever they were doing, he was enjoying himself, and so was Max. Who knew going to the store was so much fun, she thought, smiling softly. She supposed she ought to feel guilty. After all, Maria was undoubtedly dying to catch up with her, and Lord knew Isabel would have something to say, but all Liz wanted to do was steal another week or two or forever just for the three of them. Her musings were cut short by the sound of the door opening. Finally! Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Liz headed toward the living room.

“Ok, pal. Duck.”

Liz blinked. Duck? “What are you two…” she trailed off, her eyes widening in sudden concern as Max walked into the apartment, two grocery bags in each hand and his son perched haphazardly on his shoulders. She rushed forward when her husband bent down a little so Xan wouldn’t crack his head on the doorframe and inadvertently sent the four year old sliding to the side.

Xan resettled himself on Max’s shoulders, grinned at Liz and announced. “We got Wocky Woad, an’ hot fudge, an’ tamasco, an’ cawamel an’…”

Momentary sidetracked, Liz smiled back at Xan, “And a stomachache just waiting to happen.” She finished before she glanced at her husband. “I don’t remember putting all that on the list.”

“You didn’t. We voted and uh…”

“ ‘Mended da list.” Xan supplied, glancing down at Max before nodding at Liz.

“That’s right, we amended the list.” Max said, shrugging unrepentantly. He smiled when Xan giggled, clinging to his neck so as not to be thrown from his ‘seat’.

“Max! Watch…”

Max rolled his eyes. “I promise not to drop him on his head, Liz.” he teased dryly, smile widening as he watched a soft blush dust her cheeks. He knew he should probably be insulted that Liz thought he was going to drop his own child but she was still hovering, her hand slightly raised in case she needed to catch Xan and it was just such a…mom thing to do that Max found himself happily content instead.

“I know you’re not going to drop him.” Liz muttered, grabbing the groceries and giving Max a pointed look.

Grinning at his wife, Max reached up to do as he knew she wanted. “Ok, pal, rides over.”

Liz gaped as Xan leaned forward and somersaulted off of Max’s shoulders, landing safely in his fathers arms. “Are the two of you trying to give me a heart attack?” she demanded.

“Who? Us?” Max asked innocently, grinning while Xan giggled over Liz’s mock put upon expression.

Liz rolled her eyes and headed for the kitchen. “What did I ever do to deserve you two lunatics? Why couldn’t I find a couple of nice, normal guys who didn’t think it was funny to scare me to death every other second?” she asked the ceiling, adding a dramatic sigh.

“What’s so great about normal guys?” Max asked with a grin.

“How would I know?” Liz muttered. She glanced at Xan, feeling the need to pay Max back a little for her earlier heart attack. “What do you think, sweetie? Should I try and find out?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Xan grinned. He knew Liz was only teasing, and he knew that Max knew it, too. But Xan was also aware of the fact that Max didn’t think the idea was so funny. He patted his knee in consolation. “Don’ wowwy, Max. She’s jus’teasin’. She’s not evewr goin’ nowhewre.”

Liz smiled softly, walking back to her husband and offering her lips in a kiss that was both swift and reassuring. “Yeah, you guys are stuck with me.” She admitted.

Max rolled his eyes. Did they really think he was that oversensitive? He knew he was stuck with her, was grateful for it, in fact. He just never minded hearing it. “I think we’re all stuck with each other. How does that sound, pal?” he asked, looking down at his son. After the store he wanted to make sure that his Xan didn’t feel left out.

Xan smiled up at Max. “Weally good.” He replied softly.

“I think so, too, Xan.” Max agreed. He sighed, watching happily as Xan followed Liz into the kitchen to help put away the groceries. He wished they could stay like this forever, just the three of them. Safe. But they were already one week into their self-imposed, two week hiatus. And after that…after that was just going to have to wait. Right now he was going to enjoy what was looking to be the best two weeks of this life.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Posts: 49
Joined: Tue May 28, 2002 1:13 pm
Location: Chicago, IL

Post by Pathos »

********Part 65b*****************


“Are you going to finish that, sweetheart?” Liz asked, gesturing at the half eaten hamburger sitting on Xan’s plate.

“Nuh-uh. I’m no’hungwry nomowre.” Xan replied around a yawn.

“I think someone’s a little tired.” Max observed gently as Xan pushed his plate aside.

“That’s because someone skipped their nap this afternoon.” Liz replied with a pointed look at her husband.

“I hada help Max wit da bawrbecue.” Xan explained earnestly. “An I din’t need a nap,” he muttered, scowling.

Max felt his lips twitch as his son stared at them from under half closed lids, his head propped heavily in his hand. “I can see that pal.”

Xan shrugged at Max and then slid from his chair. He didn’t want to sit still anymore, but he didn’t want to go play either and his restlessness was making him uncomfortable. He moved around the table to stand next to Liz’s chair and then raised his arms expectantly, bouncing impatiently when she didn’t immediately pick him up. He could feel her presence, calm and soothing, where it always was, but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to he held. Now.

“Ok, sweetie.” Liz soothed, scooting her chair back a little, and pulling Xan onto her lap. He knelt heavily on her thighs, stretching a little so that he could wrap his arms around her neck. She hugged him back, rubbing gentle circles against his back in an attempt to ease some of his tired energy.

As always, through his connection to Liz, Max could feel the reflection of Xan’s emotions as he reached for her. Right at the moment his little boy was both irritable and restless. “Sorry.” Max apologized softly. “I didn’t think one day without a nap would make him so...” He bit his lip, feeling a little guilty as he watched Xan cling to his wife, his head resting heavily on her shoulder, making it impossible for Liz to finish her own dinner.

“Cranky?” Liz supplied, with a small smile. She shook her head at her husband. “I was only teasing, Max.” she said, letting him feel how content she’d been this afternoon just watching the two of them working together to organize the no-holds-barred ‘Welcome Home BBQ’. She’d decided then that Xan following his father around, laughing and happy as they put up decorations and made barbecue sauce that ought to be illegal was way more important than him getting his nap. “He’ll make it through one day without a nap.”

“An’ I’m no’ cwanky.” Xan called, his face still buried in Liz’s neck.

“Of course not.” Max grinned, his uneasiness forgotten in the delicious warmth of Liz’s contentment, which only served to increase his own. He glanced at the dirty dishes on the table and then looked questioningly at his wife. Liz shook her head and nodded down the hall. Correctly interpreting her sign language, Max stood up and led the way to their bedroom, shaking his head a little at this strange new reality. A month ago Liz nodding at the bedroom would have had him happily anticipating getting her into bed. Now, he dutifully stopped at his son’s room to grab Xan’s pajama’s before returning to his own room to help get his son into bed.

“I’m no’ tiwred.” Xan announced, his words muffled against Liz’s shoulder. He tightened his arms around her neck, not wanting to let go even at her urging. Sighing heavily, Xan finally gave in when he heard Max walk in the room. He sat down on the bed, raising his arms obediently so that Liz could pull his t-shirt over his head, eager to get into his jammies because it meant story time. “Maybe mowre dan one stowry.” Xan said thoughtfully as he nodded at Liz. “Cuz, I’m no’ tiwred.”

“I know you’re not, sweetie, but it’s time for bed. And one story is more than enough.” Liz replied, removing Xan’s shirt and reaching for his pajama top. She smiled at Max over Xan’s shoulder when he took the shirt and then stood there, waiting for Xan’s shorts and socks.

Max accepted Xan’s dirty clothes and quickly threw them in the laundry basket, just as ready for storytime as his son. Turning back to the bed, he found his wife and son already cuddled together and leaning back against the pillows, Dr. Seuss’ Sleep Book in hand while they waited for him to take his place at their side. His soft smile widened into a grin when Xan motioned him impatiently to the side of the bed.

“Huwry up, Max.” Xan urged plaintively. He took the book from Liz, fumbling with it a little as he handed it to Max. “You gotta do…do da ting,” he said, unable to stop the wide yawn that almost closed his eyes.

“What thing?” Max teased, stretching out on the bed and pretending to think about it.

Xan rolled his eyes. “Ma-ax! Da ting. Wit yowr hand,” he explained, nodding his encouragement.

“Ohh, that thing.” Max said. “Hold on a second though, there’s one thing we have to do first, remember?” he reminded gently.

Xan pointed at the window. “We gotta close da, da *yawn* cuwrtins. Pleeease?” he wheedled.

“I got ‘em.” Max replied, grateful that Xan was beginning to understand that they couldn’t use their powers in public. “Ok, pal, we’re ready to go,” He said, re-settling himself next to his son and opening the book across Xan’s chest so that Liz could read. “Once upon a time…” he muttered under his breath.

“It doesn’ say dat.” Xan pointed out seriously.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” Max replied gravely, a smile finding it’s way to his lips when Liz rolled her eyes at the two of them.

Shaking her head at her husband Liz began Xan’s nightly story. She was pretty sure that all three of them knew it by heart but as she recited the story and watched Max and Xan, she realized she’d be happy to read this same story every night for the next year if they stayed this happy. And safe, she added.

“Max, come o-on,” Xan whispered loudly, prodding Max ‘s hand.

“We’ve got to wait for our cue.” Max stage whispered back.

“Now the news has come in that some friends of Van Vleck’s, are yawning so wide you can see down their necks…” Liz continued, narrating the story from memory as her eyes strayed to the wall across from the bed.

Max pressed a quick kiss to the top of Xan’s head and then touched his palm to the page Liz was reading, projecting a beam of light through the illustrations he’d manipulated to a firm cellophane days ago. Adding a little more power, he forced the figures on the wall to open their mouths in wide, overdramatic yawns. “How’s that, pal?” he whispered softly.

Xan smiled forcing his tired eyes wider as the picture that used to just rest in the book was brought to life on the wall. He still couldn’t believe that Max could do fun stuff like that. And Xan couldn’t wait until he showed him how to do them, like he’d already promised he would. Sighing happily, Xan shifted to a more comfortable position and then settled down to enjoy the show. He barely noticed when Liz waved her hand at the lamp and turned off the light.

Only a few minutes later, Liz’s recitation was interrupted by the soft snoring at her side. “Deeply in slumber, I think you’ll agree that’s…Max.” She whispered, nodding pointedly at the little boy now sleeping soundly between them. She shook her head, grinning as Max continued to project the image from the page against the wall, completely focused on making the new character’s neck bounce up and down like an accordion. And completely missing the fact that his son was already asleep. “Max, he’s asleep, you can stop the light show. Unless you can’t remember how the book ends…” she couldn’t help but tease.

Blinking a little, Max glanced down at his wife and son. Sure enough, Xan was sleeping, snoring softly and cuddled against Liz’s side, his breathing even and steady. Peaceful. Trusting. He swallowed hard, watching as his wife gently stroked the bangs back from Xan’s forehead. Just as content as the little boy next to her, Max realized. Just as vulnerable. A sudden, sweeping wave of protectiveness rushed through his system, along with an equally strong recognition of the danger they were in. Not that he’d ever been unaware of it, he acknowledged. Hell, he’d spent his life well aware of that danger. But right this moment, right now, there seemed more to be afraid of. More to worry about. And even more to lose. More to protect, Max corrected fiercely. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt them, he vowed. He’d die first.

Liz closed her eyes, having felt his sudden avowal. It frightened her more than reassured her, just as it always did. “Max…”

Guiltily aware the he was the reason for the apprehension echoing through his wife, Max tried to shake off the heaviness of his thoughts. “It’s gonna be fine, Liz.” He soothed forcefully, as much to convince himself as her. He leaned over to drop another quick kiss on the top of Xan’s head before shifting over to gently capture his wife’s lips. “I love you.” He whispered, a solemn smile tugging at one corner of his mouth while he teased her deeper into their connection.

“I love you, too.” Liz whispered back, helpless to deny his smile, though her anxiety had yet to fade.

“You’re not ready for bed, are you? I mean, you’re not tired yet, right?” Max asked, standing up and searching his wife’s still worried features.

Liz felt her smile widen, her shadow fear lost in the sudden wistfulness she could feel across their connection and hear in Max’s voice. “No,” she admitted, easing slowly away from Xan and off the bed. She waited while Max drew a light sheet up around Xan’s shoulders, and then moved to the doorway. She took his hand when he reached for her, sighing a little when he stroked his thumb lightly against her palm. They paused for a moment, relaxing against one another and watching Xan as he slept before heading for the living room.

“Ok, what?” Max finally asked, unable to ignore the amusement that was bubbling through his wife. He could feel how much she suddenly wanted to laugh, and the effort it was taking to hold it in put a small smile on his own face.

Liz shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I’m tired but…I can’t help it. It just popped into my head.”

What did?” Max pressed, his own mood light with her happiness.

Liz giggled at her husbands expression and then explained. “I just never thought I’d see the day when you were trying to keep me out of bed.”

Max’s lips twitched, her observation further sparking his own good humor. When she put it like that… He shook his head, settling on the couch and pulling his wife down next to him. “Come here.”

Liz smiled, dropping onto the couch next to Max when he tugged at her hand, willingly accepting his in less that subtle invitation. It had become something of an evening tradition, this snuggling on the couch, discussing the day and making plans for the future. Replacing, she realized wryly, the discussions they used to have wrapped around each other in bed. Draping her right arm around Max’s waist and resting her head on his shoulder, Liz asked, “So, you talked to Joe?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. I’m lucky he’s a softie. I’ll be going back to work next week.”

Liz nodded. “I suppose you have to, huh?”

“Only if we want to keep eating.” Max replied with a brief smile. He closed his arms around Liz, letting his head fall back tiredly to rest on the back of the couch. “We’re lucky our savings have lasted this long,” he pointed out, “and…”

“I don’t want to ask Langley for anything either.” Liz agreed softly, her fingers drifting absently back and forth across her husband’s abdomen. He was as tired as she was, but she thrilled with the knowledge of his sudden awareness.

“Yeah.” Max lifted his head, stilling Liz’s fingers so that they could finish their conversation… before they finished anything else she wanted to start. “You’re sure you’re ok with everything?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” Liz caught her husband’s gaze, once again lacing her fingers through his. “Max, really. I’m more than ok with this. I talked to Javier and explained everything. He was a sweetheart, actually. I think he’s just so glad that we helped Julie he’s willing to break his own rules a little. He agreed to let me take a few weekend shifts, maybe some at night…,” she shrugged lightly, wondering at Max’s uneasiness. They’d been planning the next few months of their lives all week. Well, planning as much as they could anyway. “It depends on how well Xan does.” And how long we stay safe here, she finished, trying to figure out Max’s strange hesitation.

Max bit his lip. “Yeah…Liz, listen. I don’t want this to just be something you’re doing. I mean, I know you’re willing and that I’m not pushing you or, or anything like that.” Max rushed out when he felt a flare of temper. “I just feel like I’m abandoning you or something.” He couldn’t help it. The same possessive need to safeguard his family came rushing back to the fore. With him at work, they’d be completely on their own. There was so much that could happen in eight hours. And so much he was going to miss. He was already working on an ulcer just thinking about it.

“Max. You’re going to work and coming home, you’re hardly abandoning us. And besides, this just makes sense. It’s not like daycare is an option. One of us has to be here.”

“I know.” Max agreed. Even if they’d been willing to leave Xan that exposed, they didn’t have the money to pay for it.

“I wouldn’t do that even if we did have the money.” Liz said firmly. “One of us has to be here.” She repeated gently. “And, really, if I made more money, you’d be at home with him.”

Max shrugged noncommittally.

Liz blinked, sitting up and moving to face her husband as the strange metaphysical whiplash of Max’s emotions yo-yo’ing from desperate protectiveness to a strange helplessness washed through her. “OK, what…”

“But I wouldn’t be.” Max said quietly. “Because he doesn’t trust me yet.” He finished, hating the way the words sounded out loud even more than the way they felt. He glanced at his wife and then looked away uneasily. It was petty and he knew it but…

Liz’s eyes softened in sudden understanding. “Max…”

“I know. I know it’s ridiculous, and please don’t think that I’d want him to be any different with you. I don’t. I love that he loves you. And that you love him.” Max explained desperately. “I just want him to be different with me. And I know, I know it’s going to take time. I just…I guess that’s why I feel like I’m abandoning you. Sometimes even when I’m here.” he admitted softly. He felt horrible, but it was true. Though it happened less and less as the days wore on, there were still times when he seemed completely extraneous in the midst of his own family…times when Xan just wanted Liz. Max swallowed hard, feeling guilty even acknowledging those feelings to himself, much less admitting them to her. His discomfort eased when his wife continued to regard him with gentle understanding instead of smacking him in the head, which he half felt he deserved.

“Sweetheart, it’s one thing to know all that but it’s something else entirely to live it.” Resting her palm lightly against Max’s cheek, Liz helped him meet her gaze. “Why do you think you’re not allowed to be frustrated?” she asked softly. Her brow furrowed as she considered her own question. “Do you think I’d be…mad, or…” She was shaking her head even before his denial, feeling through their connection that there was something else.

“No, it’s not that, I just feel like I have so much to be grateful for that focusing on anything else is just…wrong, somehow.”

“Max, you’re not focusing on it. But you can’t just act like you don’t feel it either.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Liz waved off Max’s quick nod. “Because you certainly don’t act like you do. You never let yourself just…just be upset or…”

Max shrugged uncomfortably. “I do…”

“OK, sometimes,” Liz acknowledged. “But most of the time you force it away, like you don’t want me to see…”

“Liz, this is my fault.” Max burst out incredulously. How could she still not see that? He shook his head. “How can I complain when this whole situation, the special unit, the fact that we’re on the run… If it weren’t for me, you’d be…”

“It’s not your fault,” Liz ground out. “You can’t blame yourself for being born, Max.”

Max blinked. Huh? “I don’t think I…”

“Oh, no?” Liz asked, getting worked up without really knowing why. “What do you think would have happened to me if you’d never been born? Hmmm?”

Max stared at Liz, his head swimming as he wondered how they’d managed to bring the conversation around to this even as his arms tightened convulsively around her. He couldn’t even imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t been there the day that…he couldn’t imagine his life without her. And he’d die before he let anything happen to her.

It was the same avowal she’d felt earlier, only this time wrapped in his arms, it was more. Liz shivered. This time, it was worse. She was suddenly thrown back to that day, that moment… when everything she’d thought couldn’t get worse, suddenly had. The memory hit with premonition-like strength, giving it an immediacy that frightened her and left her reeling for a moment through time. It was right there, the same bleak emptiness that had hung at the very heart of herself, waiting to pull her in, drown her if she let it. She’d known with a certainty that was still terrifying that she’d never be able to stop it from overtaking her. Because the part of herself that had always been filled by Max’s energy, even in the worst of times, was empty. Liz wasn’t sure that she’d ever recognized his place within her with that kind of understanding until it was no more.

“It’ll be ok, Liz. I’d die before I let anything happen to either of you.” Max whispered vehemently, hoping to allay the stark panic he could feel washing over her in waves. It had come out of nowhere with a forcefulness that surprised him and left him somewhat off balance. He reached for her more forcefully, wrapping around her soul even as he held her close against his heart.

Swallowing hard, Liz forced herself back to the present, to the moment she was living held securely in her husband’s arms and cradled within his soul. It almost wasn’t enough to still her trembling and she clung to him desperately, grateful for the connection winding through them, binding them together and holding the fuller vision at bay. “Max, please just…stop it.” she ordered.

“I can’t just…stop it.” Max replied, vaguely amused. “You know how much you mean to me. If anything ever happened to you, or to Xan I…”

“What, and I could live with myself if something happened to you?” Liz asked incredulously, pulling away to glare up into Max’s startled gaze. She stood up and paced restlessly in front of the couch. “Don’t you get it? This whole…thing – the running, the hiding – all of it…the only thing that makes it ok is that we’re together!” she said, pausing long enough to continue glaring at Max.

“Liz, I agree with you, I…” Max said helplessly, standing up to face his wife.

“Then why do you say things like that?” Liz whispered hoarsely. She knew she was overreacting but the strange, almost premonition-like foreboding had set her more on edge than normal. She just couldn’t seem to shake the remembrance of waking up to the knowledge that he was dead, and then stumbling under the sheer weight of his absence when she understood that she was completely alone. “I need you, don’t you get that?” she said brokenly, wondering at her own tears. “You can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to be ok with it. This family means everything to me too, and you’re part of that. Remember?”

Max nodded, Liz’s tears raising his protective hackles even more. “I know.” He said gently, pulling her back into his arms. He took a deep breath when she finally relaxed against him, though he could still feel the shadow of her fear and the strange nagging prickling of an omen. “I need you too. Like we said, we’re stuck with each other.”

“Damn straight.” Liz muttered. “Promise me you won’t die.” She demanded suddenly, surprising even herself.

Max blinked. “Liz, I…”

“Promise me, Max. Promise me that we’re going to grow old together.”

“We sure will, if I’m never going to die.” Max tried to tease, wanting to lighten the dark weight pressing in on her soul.

Liz rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. And I’m serious.”

“I know.” Max acknowledged. He stared down into his wife’s tear brightened eyes and nodded. “ I promise. You and me, for the rest of our life. And every one after that if I have anything to say about it.” he vowed solemnly.

Liz nodded. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why his promise seemed like a step in the right direction, and though the logical part of herself was almost embarrassed to admit it, his words reassured her. “Was that so hard?” she asked him, taking a step back and slapping his arm lightly. “Oh no,” Liz said, sidestepping out of Max’s reach as she pushed him playfully off balance. “I’m still mad,” she mustered, unable to stop the grin that was already tugging at her lips.

Max shook his head. “Oh no.” He mimicked with a smile, catching his wife around the waist and pulling her back into his arms. “Two seconds ago you were making me promise never to die and now you want me to go away?” he asked. He lowered his lips to hers before she had a chance to reply, happily drinking in the sweetness of her response. When their lips parted he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closing briefly. “I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

“Good.” Liz breathed out, sighing happily as his lips met hers once again. She moaned a little as his fingers slid under the hem of her shirt, skimming her naval and heating the sudden knot of passion coiling in the pit of her stomach. “So we’re agreed. I’ll stay home with Xan and you’ll go back to work, and everything’s fine.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Max agreed, his lips gliding down the slender column of her throat.

“Xan…” Liz reminded her husband.

“Is sleeping, even though he wasn’t very, um, tiwred.” Max pointed out, with a smile, feeling his arousal spike at her response to his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Liz giggled at his husky imitation of Xan’s lisp.

“I love hearing you laugh.” Max murmured against her throat. He sighed as he gently kneaded her breast, feeling the languid heat that was slowly infusing her limbs as she moaned. “That’s another good sound.”

Really good.” Liz agreed breathlessly.

Max nodded. He moaned low in his throat when Liz straddled his thigh, her knee brushing suggestively against his arousal. She rocked against him, her sexy whimper bringing him back to reality. “We just need to be…”

“Quiet, yeah.”

“Exactly.” God, it had been way too long since he’d held her like this, Max thought, pulling her closer.

We can be quiet, Liz told herself, suddenly realizing it had been a week since she’d touched him like this. “God, it’s been too long.” She sighed, her fingers bunching his shirt up so that it was easier to remove.

“You sure you can’t read my mind?”

“Maybe I can,” Liz challenged archly, her eyes smoky and unfocused with the need reverberating strongly through their connection. She gave up on removing Max’s shirt when he wouldn’t stop touching her long enough for her to drag it over his head. Giving in to her own desire to touch him, Liz simply let her hands wander under the cotton, her fingers skimming his stomach, her smile lighting dangerously when she felt his muscles jump in response to her touch. “That’s for me to know, buddy, and you to find out,” she replied smugly, the last of her distress over the memory of his loss forgotten in the solid heat of his body and the comforting reality of their live connection.

“Oh yeah? Let’s test that.” Max teased huskily, catching her gaze. “What am I thinking now?” he asked, falling easily into their connection, reaching, just as she was, for the elemental moment where only they existed.

“Mr. Evans!” Liz teased, pretending to be shocked. She leaned in and kissed a path from the throbbing pulse point at his throat to his ear. “You should think like that more often,” she whispered.

“Liz!”


Her attention shifting instantly, Liz realized that getting caught in the eraser room wasn’t half the deterrent that that little voice was becoming. “I’m here, Xan,” she called, moving quickly from Max’s lap and readjusting her clothing.



“Whewre?” Xan called indignantly, his voice clearly coming from his room.


Max could feel his son tugging sharply on Liz’s end of the connection, his spirit reaching out for her even as his voice echoed down the hallway. And even as his attention shifted to his son, Max felt Liz’s awareness of their connection fade to the background of her consciousness as she answered Xan.


“Sweetie, we’re out here. In the living room,” Liz called, easing Xan’s rising panic before it could become real fear. She sighed, glancing back at Max. “Looks like it’s bedtime for real,” she said wryly, hearing Xan’s footsteps padding quickly down the hall.


Max nodded, focusing on his son. He knew that Xan still worried when Liz was out of sight, but thankfully he could also feel his son’s unquestioned trust in her, his understanding that she’d always be there for him. But when Xan hesitated briefly as he came around the corner, one little hand fisted and rubbing at his eyes while he studied the two of them on the couch, Max also sensed the slightest hint of uncertainty.

Xan ducked his head shyly, a little worried that maybe he’d done something wrong. Max didn’t seem mad, but he was watching him pretty closely. Biting his lip, Xan reached even more strongly for Liz and then he relaxed, moving toward the couch when Max nodded and motioned him forward.

Max smiled, grateful that Xan was even more reassured by the gesture. Briefly, he felt Liz’s attention shift to him, but he shook his head. “It’s ok.” Max whispered to her, while his eyes gently held his son’s gaze. “Right, pal?” He could already feel Xan’s attachment to him growing every day, hesitation aside, and right now that was enough. Patience, he reminded himself firmly. Xan would reach for him soon enough, when he was ready.

“Uh-huh.” Xan said, staring pointedly at the couch. “Dewre’s not lots a woom fowr me.” He hinted, when no one moved.

Liz smiled at Xan’s semi disgruntled expression. “There’s always room for you, sweetheart.” She said softly.

“I know.” Xan said, completely reassured when Max’s smile widened. He smiled back and jumped up onto the couch.

“Whoa. Easy there, pal,” Max said as Xan dispensed with any preamble and climbed up onto Liz’s lap, ignoring the fact that there was someone else half in his way.

“I tought it was bedtime.” Xan mumbled in sleepy accusation, curling up against Liz and allowing himself to be soothed now that he could feel her arms around him as well as in his heart, which is where he’d decided she was all the time, anyway.

“It is sweetie. Max and I were just talking a little, that’s all. We didn’t want to wake you up.” Liz said softly, straightening further on the couch and giving herself a little more room to rock Xan. He’d curled up against her chest, almost as if he were a baby, his legs across hers and his head resting above her breast. Now that he’d found her, Liz could feel him already relaxing back into slumber.

“Bu’ I’m ‘wake anyway.” Xan pointed out with a yawn, his eyes closing as he twisted a lock of Liz’s hair around his finger. He sighed, drifting happily in her arms and relaxing even more when he felt Max’s strong hand against his back, helping to support him as Liz stood up.

“Good point, Xan. I think we’re all pretty tired so why don’t we head back to bed.” Max replied easily. He made sure Liz was steady on her feet and waved her towards the bedroom while he headed to the front door to make sure the apartment was secure. Then turning toward the kitchen, he absently cleared the dirty dishes, his mind still on his family.

Max knew he could push the connection to his son, and he was even willing to admit that it was tempting. But the more he thought about it, the more he decided that simply being there for Xan, without pressuring him, was the best way to go. Xan just wasn’t ready to reach for him yet. Not the way he’d instinctively reached for Liz, trusting her enough to open his heart and hoping she’d do the same. Which she had, without one single reservation, Max knew. That was amazing in itself, and right in a way he’d never imagined possible. He smiled softly, remembering the unfamiliar hiccup in his own connection to Liz when Xan had tried to heal her. They really were incredible.

Leaving the dishes in the sink for tomorrow, Max moved about the apartment, checking the window and door one last time as he wondered at the strange pull that had led both him and his son to seek Liz’s soul in the midst of healing her. Granted, Xan hadn’t actually healed her, but he’d tried. And he’d put all of himself into the effort. ‘That’s my boy,’ Max thought, pride swelling his heart as he remembered doing exactly the same thing. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time, only felt it as the most instinctive curiosity about someone he cared for deeply, but hadn’t really known. Their deepening connection had been an unexpected side effect, one he wouldn’t trade for the world. Any world. He guessed it was pretty much the same for Xan. And it was that ‘pretty much’ that was going to save his ass, Max supposed with a sudden grin, envisioning all the possible…complications if Xan’s connection had been exactly like his.

Considering that Xan’s feelings weren’t what he had been thinking about when he was making love to Liz, and considering that he wanted to not be thinking about them again, Max allowed himself a brief moment of thankfulness that Mother Nature understood that children didn’t need to feel every one of their parents emotions. Instead, the calming weight of Liz’s presence ‘in his heart’ as Xan had come to say, was enough to reassure him most of the time. And almost instinctively, Xan understood that if he really needed Liz, she’d be right there. Just like any…mother responding to her child’s need. Max took a deep breath, the word striking him with a welcome electricity. He had thought of Xan as his son for as long as he’d known of his existence, but the reality was so different than he’d ever thought. So much better. Xan knew, just as every child should know from their parents, that he was loved unconditionally. And it was Liz who had given him that.

Max shook his head and moved slowly toward his bedroom, feeling his wife gently calling for him as she resettled Xan. He could sense their easy rapport echo through him and he smiled, letting the warm security of their emotions ease his own restlessness. “I’m here.” Max said softly, entering their room and effectively ending Liz’s internal debate over whether or not to go find him.

Liz bit her lip. She’d felt Max working through something in his head, something that was easing his frustration but … “You ok?” Liz asked softly, still a little worried.

“That’s a new record.” Max whispered, nodding at his son who was already back to sleep. He offered a self-deprecating smile when Liz wasn’t fooled by his attempt to turn her attention. “I’m fine, I was just thinking. You’re rubbing off on me.” He accused sheepishly. “I was just thinking about how you two became so connected.”

Liz smiled, glancing down at Xan. “When he healed me.” She said softly. She’d recognized Xan’s yearning in that instant and understood his heartfelt wish that she love him. It was reminiscent of his father’s own yearning, though the experience had been entirely different from the first time she’d touched Max’s soul. But just like then, it hadn’t even been a choice. Her heart could never have denied him.

Max blinked. “Yeah.” He paused to study his wife. “How long have you…”

Liz shrugged. “Max, it was only after he tried to heal me that I began to really sense him…and then, you add in the fact that our connection started with your healing me…I could feel him reaching for me then.” She whispered, not wanting to wake Xan but sensing Max’s sudden need to talk about this. “It was different from when you did, but…still the same, somehow, like I sort of recognized it. Maybe. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like…”

“Instinct,” Max supplied, nodding along with his wife. He took a moment to strip down to his boxers and then glanced at his son, careful to keep his voice low as he continued, “I think that’s what I felt when…when he was first born and he was so scared. But over the last few years…I don’t think he even realizes that connection is there anymore. Or, he’s not sure… he’s not sure I’ll answer,” Max finished hoarsely, guilt tugging painfully at his heart.

“That’s gonna change, Max, I promise,” Liz said fervently, reaching for his hand and gently pulling him into bed. “He just needs time. I know you know that, but …”

“I know. I really do, Liz,” Max replied softly, willing her to feel the honesty of his words, and grateful that some of the tension eased from her spirit with that understanding. He captured her gaze, lifting her palm to his lips for a brief kiss before he continued solemnly. “And you know, don’t you, that I’m so grateful that he has you to turn to? There’s no one else I’d trust to…” Max shook his head, unable to even really find the right words, but he could tell that his wife understood. “Knowing he’ll never feel alone again… Right now, I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“I love you.” Liz whispered. She took a deep breath, smiling a little over the fact that, as much as her heart might want to be wrapped intimately around her husband, they’d just have to wait considering the little body snoring between them.

“I love you, too. Now go to sleep.” Max replied, nodding at Xan, unable to stop his teasing smile. “Because he’s going to be up early, and it’s not me he’s going to be dragging out of bed.”

“We’ll see about that.” Liz muttered with an answering smile. She could feel that Max was breathing a little easier now that he’d actually voiced his frustration. And in turn that had eased her own lingering guilt over the fact that he occasionally felt left out of his own son’s life. She sighed, closing her eyes when her husband kept his fingers laced through hers as he settled into bed, holding her as close as possible with Xan between them, and making up for their physical distance by wrapping their connection tightly around them both. “Night.”

“Night.” Max replied softly, closing his eyes

Hours later, settled next to his sleeping wife and son, Max sighed heavily. He was unusually restless, everything he and Liz had discussed earlier racing through his mind as he worried about the tentative plans they’d made. He only became more frustrated as the night wore on. It wasn’t right, being unable to plan their life more than a week or so in advance. And it wasn’t fair. Not to Liz and certainly not to Xan.

The transitory nature of their life hadn’t hit him this hard in…ever, really. Having spent his life living in the moment, stealing whatever time, whatever happiness he could for his own being on the run seemed almost a natural progression. Hell, he’d understood, almost from the beginning that his being alien meant his existence depended on what others were willing to tolerate. But this wasn’t just about him anymore. And it hadn’t been for a long time.

So from now on I’ll just concentrate on being who I really am. Some of you might not like that. Some of you might even find that frightening. But that’s not my problem anymore. I have to be who I really am and let fate take care of the rest.


The promise he’d made back at the end of his old life wasn’t nearly as important as the vow he’d made at his wedding, the silent promise that he’d make all of Liz’s dreams come true. She’d never complained and never, he knew from their connection, contemplated leaving to seek out a ‘normal’ life. But he doubted that living the rest of her life on the run was something she dreamed about. Not unless you counted nightmares. Max closed his eyes, no closer to sleep than he had been a moment ago. She’d had dreams of children and family before…and she’d put them aside without thought, just as he had. But now…now that dream was a reality. They were living it. And while he’d never allowed himself to plan too far into the future, this family, together and safe, was suddenly the only future he’d let himself consider. The uncertain determination to hold on to something that had always seemed completely beyond his grasp, steeled into a hard resolve.

It was time to give his family the life they deserved. And it sure as hell wasn’t simply being tolerated. Not anymore, Max vowed grimly.

He glanced over at Liz when she shivered lightly, her brows drawing together as she murmured worriedly in her sleep. Gently pulling her as close as he could with Xan’s body snuggled between them, Max soothed the frown from her features with a gentle whisper. “I don’t care what I have to do, Liz. We’re gonna be free. We’re gonna be safe. And we are definitely gonna grow old together."
Last edited by Pathos on Sun Sep 21, 2003 1:07 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

Hey all -

Just a quick fly-by post. *sigh* RL can be such a pain in the ass. :roll: I'm just glad it was under a month this time. mareli how shocked are you? :P :lol:

As always everyone, thanks so much for the FB and bumps, your interest and investment in the story just amazes me and I'm so grateful. :D

Must also thank Michelle in Yonkers for once again helping get this chapter typed/ironed out. I am so spoiled, people! I know it, and I'm trying to live with the guilt. :roll: :lol:

Anyhoo - without further ado here's chapter 66 (or 666 as was the working title :shock: :roll: :lol: )...posted in two parts for length.

See ya'll soon.

Pathos



**************Part 66************

Finishing his brief meditation, Kyle stood up and rubbed the Buddha’s belly, a grin lighting his face as he absently considered the night ahead. Tonight was going to be a good night, he decided, a really good night. And a little good luck never hurt anyone.

Buzzzzzz

Kyle hesitated, frozen by the fleeting concern that the entire US army was on the other side of his door, their guns drawn, just waiting for him to walk into the ambush. Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. First off, it was the Air Force hunting them at the moment, and second, crazed military commanders rarely waited to be let in.

Buzzzzzz

Crazed military commanders? Kyle shook his head. Too many Farscape reruns with Max, he decided, shaking off his paranoia and moving to answer the door.

“Michael, if that’s you, the couch is yours. But if Maria asks, you broke in while I was…” Kyle froze, the relaxation he’d achieved during his meditation gone as soon as he opened his apartment door and saw who was on the other side. “…out,” he finished flatly.


*****************


Michael gritted his teeth. Though his back was turned he couldn’t seem to avoid Maria’s pointed stare. “What?” he ground out, turning around to meet her eyes for a split second before he returned his attention to punching in the next set of numbers. So much for Langley being on call 24/7, he thought sarcastically. And so much for him having the information he knew Isabel would want before the meeting began. Damn Langley! Michael turned back to Maria. “What?” he ground out, her unrelenting stare putting him even more on edge.

Maria shrugged. “Nothing. Did you call Kyle?”

“I didn’t get a hold of him.” Michael muttered, already certain of what was coming next “I sent Iz to pick him up on her way here.” He admitted, waiting for the explosion that never came. Which worried him even more. “Langley! Yeah, I…fucking machine.” He groused, glaring at the phone before punching the disconnect button and yanking his wallet from his pants. “Where’s that number for Tr…here.”

Maria watched Michael search through his wallet for Troy’s number and then punch it into the cellphone. “Did you ever figure out what was going on with those two?” she asked, bringing the conversation back to Isabel and Kyle as he waited impatiently for someone to pick up the line.

Michael shook his head in defeat as the Base operator picked up the line and asked if he wanted to leave a message. He disconnected the call quickly, grateful that they hadn’t gone through their latest supply of throwaway phones. “No, I didn’t figure out what was going on with those two,” he said to Maria. “And before you say one more thing about me trying to ‘weasel out of my responsibility’ lemme just point out that Max has stayed away from that one for months,” he defended.

Maria blinked. “I was just asking,” she pointed out innocently. “Paranoid much?”


********************


“Hi.” Isabel began softly.

Taking a deep breath, Kyle leaned against the doorframe, casually blocking Isabel from moving any further into his apartment and keeping an avenue of retreat open at the same time. “Hi.” He replied shortly. “Finally found time in your busy schedule, huh?”

“Um, actually there’s a meeting.”

Kyle nodded. “Of course there is. Why else would you be here?”

“No, that’s not…” Isabel took a deep breath and started again. “I didn’t come by sooner because I wanted to…I was kind of hoping you’d calm down,” she replied with a self deprecating smile. It flagged slightly when all Kyle did was nod at her.

“I’m perfectly calm.”

“Right.” Isabel gestured vaguely past Kyle into the apartment. “Look, can I come in?”

“I’m on my way out. And Kelly hates late,” Kyle replied firmly. Don’t cave, he ordered himself. Do not cave.

“Right. Kyle, I just…we should talk,” Isabel finished lamely.

Kyle stared at her in disbelief. No chance of him caving now. “We should have talked before you went to Florida,” he pointed out coldly.

Isabel nodded. “You’re right, I know you’re right. I just…”

“Didn’t want to deal with it,” Kyle finished with a snort. “I’m shocked. Our own fairytale princess doesn’t want to deal with reality.” He shook his head. “Isabel, I don’t have time right now…”

Isabel glared, her own temper sparking a little at his dismissal. “Well, at some point you’re going to have to make time,” she retorted.

“You think?” Kyle shot back. “The way I see it…”

Isabel closed her eyes briefly. She was so tired suddenly, tired of explaining the same thing over and over, and of apologizing for doing something that anyone else in their group would have done in her place. More than that though, she was tired of having her best friend hate her. “Kyle look, I didn’t plan this,” she rushed out, hoping to avoid a blow up.

No shit, Kyle thought sarcastically. “I think that was the problem, Iz,” he replied dryly, reining in his temper with an effort. He could see the stress she was under in the pallor of her skin and the shadowed plea so clear in her eyes. He knew… don’t cave. Do not cave, he reminded himself.

“Kyle come on. I didn’t do this to hurt anyone. Haven’t you ever made a mistake?” Isabel questioned softly.

Kyle’s eyes widened. Did she just ask him… Right. Definitely not gonna cave. “Made a mistake?” he snorted derisively. “Look at my life, princess; you tell me.” Kyle moved out into the hall, closing the door behind him and effectively ending the argument before it got fully under way. Or he began to feel sorry for her, whichever came first. Probably the latter, Kyle admitted silently, his temper already softening at the tears he saw in her eyes. “I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late,” he mumbled.

Isabel swallowed hard and nodded, backing up a step as Kyle started down the hall without even waiting for a reply. “What…what about the meeting?” she called after his retreating back.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder without stopping. “Michael’s got my proxy. The rest…someone can fill me in later,” he replied, punching the down button for the elevator. He was beyond grateful that Isabel didn’t follow. At least his ride down to the street would be peaceful. He sighed heavily. I’m trading that Buddha in, he decided harshly. It’s got a skewed sense of ‘good luck.’


***************************


Michael, nodded at the phone, pretending absorption in the call as he thanked the few lucky stars deigning to shine on him that he’d finally gotten through to someone with actual information before Isabel and Maria ‘what if’d’ him to death. Or forced him to participate in a conversation which would undoubtedly arrive at the conclusion that he was an idiot, and they ought to call Max. “Will you two quit it? We are not calling Max,” he ground out before returning his attention to the phone. “Sorry, man… yeah, everything’s just great here,” he answered, glaring at Isabel and Maria. He was gonna kill Kyle, the coveted proxy vote notwithstanding.

Maria glared right back. “At least Max would have had some information to impart before calling a meeting. As opposed to just trying to blow smoke up my ass,” she snapped, choosing to ignore the fact that she’d accused Max of blowing smoke on more than one occasion. From the incredulous look on Michael’s face, he obviously wasn’t willing to forget that fact.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to get some informa…”

“Try harder,” Isabel interrupted. “This is my husband we’re talking about,” she reminded him, twisting her wedding band around her ring finger.

Michael glared, but forced himself to count to ten and not say anything that they’d end up making him regret. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath. “Sorry,” Michael apologized again, reminded of the phone in his hand by Troy’s muffled laughter.

“They still driving you nuts?” Troy questioned with a chuckle.

“You have no idea,” Michael replied. He cleared his throat, translating Isabel’s ‘You are undoubtedly the anti-Christ’ glare and Maria’s pointed ‘get the hell on with it chucklehead’ look to mean that he’d better return to the topic at hand. Quickly. “Yeah, so you were saying about Jesse…” he prompted.

Troy sighed. “Yeah. About Jesse… You realize I’m still getting the hang of all this right? I mean, I’m just not sure what Payton’s thinking, giving me the, uh… outside project,” he admitted quietly. It was the truth. Aside from real duties having to do with his brand new promotion, ‘General Payton’ had mockingly pointed out that since Max trusted him more than he did his own protector, he’d happily do the same. Troy exhaled harshly, wishing he could take everyone’s new found confidence in him to heart. But he wasn’t an idiot. He knew full well that handing him the families’ safety was foolish at best, and fatal at worst. He hadn’t even been completely briefed yet!

Glaring at the wall, Troy pictured Payton’s face and aimed, bouncing his Paramount Pictures stress ball off the concrete. Damn ball was the only useful thing Payton had given him. Office warming! Troy snorted, mentally consigning the shapeshifter to hell. He just knew that son of a bitch was still playing with him. And he knew that he was still two steps behind everyone else in this high stakes game of hide and seek. “Michael, I’m not sure what to tell you.” Troy admitted tiredly.

Michael nodded, pretending that Troy was saying anything but what he actually was. He’d be damned if he reported that. “Yeah, so he’s fine?” he prompted. Please, just cut me some slack and say ‘yes’, he thought with an uneasy glance at Isabel.

Troy blinked, and then caught on. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a couple women,” he taunted, unable to resist. Especially considering that he could almost feel Michael’s frustration over the fact that he wasn’t free to say what he so obviously wanted to. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Thanks.” Michael replied shortly. “And…”

Growing serious again, Troy gave his report. “We were lucky,” he said with a sigh. “So far the integrity of the cover story is intact. Plus, the break in Special Unit service covered both Jesse’s disappearance and his return so it looks like you’re off the hook there, too.”

Thank you! Michael breathed an internal sigh of relief, bemused as always by the unlikely alliance he’d formed with Troy. He supposed Isabel was to blame for that considering that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to trust either one of them to keep Jesse safe. “Jesse’s fine,” he announced to Isabel who just rolled her eyes at him, clearly still chafed over the decision to send Jesse back to Boston until they could extract him safely without drawing unwanted attention to themselves. That decision made sense, Michael defended silently… or had, when he’d pushed everyone into it. Now… shit. Now he was second-guessing everything. “Everyone bought the cover story,” Michael asserted. “And Jesse’s got, what, one of Langley’s men on him at all times?”

“Two,” Troy corrected. “With orders to take him into custody if they feel his life is in jeopardy.”

“Right. Two, and they’ll pick him up if he gets into trouble, so everything’s cool,” Michael repeated, nodding at Isabel, and letting himself breathe a sigh of relief when she returned to picking lint off his couch. And then realized what Troy had just said. “I thought all Special Unit activity was supposed to be phased out once what’s-his-name was found guilty at the court martial. What do you mean ‘break in service’?”

“Corwin.” Troy supplied the General’s name absently. “And it was supposed to be phased out,” he continued softly. “But over the last few days…” He shook his head, hating how helpless he felt, and hating that Payton or Langley or whoever he was pretending to be that day, had been ignoring his calls. “Over the last few days surveillance has increased on everyone. The Parkers, the Evanses, Amy DeLuca, and her nephew…” Troy listed, rifling through the papers on his desk for the last report his team had intercepted.

“Sean’s there?” Michael asked, surprised.

Maria sat up straighter on the couch. “Sean? What’s Sean doing there?”

“I don’t…” Michael began, already waving her off.

“Helping her run the shop,” Troy answered, having heard Maria’s question. He was no longer surprised that she could be as loud as Michael. He hesitated, Langley had ordered him to stagger the information to the kids but… these were their families. They had a right to know. “She didn’t take Maria’s leaving so well,” Troy said quietly.

“Helping her with the shop,” Michael translated quickly. “Look, can we get back to…”

Maria’s brows drew together. “Helping…why? My mother doesn’t need help with the shop. Is something wrong?” she demanded, her voice sounding shrill in her own ears as she rose from the couch to confront her boyfriend.

“What? No, course not,” Michael said quickly, sure Maria didn’t believe him when her only response was to stare at him. “You know your cousin,” he continued. “He probably smelled an opportunity and …”

“An opportunity to do what, exactly?” Maria questioned, becoming even more worried.

Shrugging helplessly Michael said, “I don’t know, and I kinda need to handle this.”


“Sorry to get in your way,” Maria spat, sitting back down on the couch.

Isabel turned her attention from the lint on the couch and studied her friends worried features. “Do you want me to dreamwalk her?” she asked the other girl gently. “If you want, I could probably take you in…”

“Troy, hang on. Isabel you know you can’t,” Michael said, even as Maria nodded.

“It won’t be like the last time,” Maria said. “Would it?” she asked Isabel, unable to resist the opportunity to see her mom. She needed to hear her voice suddenly, needed to explain… or try. Without waiting for an answer Maria turned back to Michael. “Look, she’s obviously been doing it with Jesse, so, what’s the problem?”

“Jesse’s a target now,” Michael reminded her. “Do you really want to risk your Mom, again?”

Isabel shook her head quickly. “Michael, I’ll be more careful this time.”

Maria nodded quickly. “And my Mom will know better this time. She’ll keep her mouth shut.”

Michael stared. “Your mother?” he asked, in disbelief.

“What do you have against my mother?” Maria demanded, glaring.

“Nothing. I like your mother,” Michael defended, “but we still can’t take the chance…”

Isabel narrowed her eyes, sensing a victory in the completely overwhelmed look on Michael’s face. “It’s a simple dreamwalk, Michael. Nothing’s going to go wrong.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Michael reminded both girls. “And look what almost happened.”




****Baton Rouge, The Summer After Graduation****

“Could you get on with it? I’m dyin’ here?” Michael grumbled, swiping ineffectually at the sweat beading his brow. Frickin’ heat. Frickin’ Louisiana! Shoulda let France keep it.

Max nodded shortly. Calm and rational, he reminded himself, sharing a quick glance with Liz who was seated next to him on the hotel bed. The rest of the group was scattered about the small room, sweating and cranky and barely surviving the humidity of this latest heat wave. They’d been getting on each other’s nerves for weeks now, but how was he supposed to tell them…

“You’re sure there was nowhere else you could find for us to stay?” Isabel muttered, her lip curling in brief disgust over the way the light cotton fabric of her tank top was stuck to her skin.

“Nothing in our price range,” Max ground out. “I didn’t call this meeting to talk about the heat. What happened last week can’t happen again.”

“Max, I didn’t do this on purpose. And neither did they.” Isabel pointed out quickly. She glanced at the arm of her chair and then shoved Michael off of it. It was too damn hot to be that close.

“I’m not saying you did it on purpose,” Max began tiredly, trying to ignore the death rattle of the ancient air conditioner in the corner. Not to mention Kyle’s tinkering, which hadn’t affected the temperature in the room even one degree, though Max could feel his blood pressure climbing steadily. “Kyle, could you…”

“What about last week, Max? It’s Isabel’s fault because she happened to help us keep in touch with the people we love?” Maria interrupted snidely.

Max turned from Kyle, his eyes narrowed briefly on Isabel’s face before he turned to confront Maria. “Your mother, too?”

“Oh, so now you want to blame my mother?”

“I’m not saying that...”

Isabel glared. “So what exactly
are you saying?” she asked coldly.

“I’m saying it stops now. I’m saying we’re lucky that Langley’s been watching and I’m saying this isn’t up for a vote,” Max shouted, waving a hand at the frickin’ air conditioner. He was grateful when it’s rattle settled into a non-headache inducing hum. Taking a deep breath, and glaring Kyle into a seat on the floor instead of next to Liz on the bed, he began again. “We can’t keep…”

“Maxwell, don’t start with...”

“With what, Michael? Common sense?” Max turned his back on Michael and pinned his sister with a glare. “This isn’t a debate, Isabel. The dreamwalks have to stop. I know you didn’t mean to give up all those details and I knew no one’s parents intended to put us in danger. But
that’s what happened.” He paused to take another deep breath, grateful that Liz was somehow maintaining her focus and her calm. Her silent support slipped easily across their connection, a balm to his own frayed nerves.

Isabel noticed Max’s preoccupation and jumped in. “Max these are our parents, remember? The people that raised us? I don’t know about you, but I can’t just cut them off,”

“I know who they are, Isabel. Maybe you want to remember the Special Unit on our ass and the interrogation
your dreamwalk put our parents through.” Max ground out through clenched teeth.

“No one would have had to tell the Parkers anything if you’d let Liz...”

“Let Liz?” Liz interrupted angrily, feeling her temper flare as she looked from Isabel’s aloof expression to Maria’s guilty one. She knew she didn’t even want to look at the expression on Michael’s face. It would only piss her off more. To hell with calm and rational!
“Let Liz? He’s not “letting Liz’ do anything. I happen to agree with him.”

“Big surprise,” Kyle muttered.

“Yeah?” Liz snapped, turning to glare at Kyle. “Here’s another one. Those harmless dreamwalks gave the General enough information to find us. In another two days we’re going to be surrounded.”

“Oh, my God!” Maria gasped.

Max stared at his wife. “What part of ‘we need to discuss this calmly and rationally’ does that announcement fall under?” he whispered to her.

Liz glared at her husband, his ill timed amusement doing nothing to cool her temper.

Right. Max swallowed his humor and returned his attention to the group. “That’s actually why I called this meeting,” he said quietly.

Maria shook her head, already beginning to panic. “Why? What are you...”

“We need to split up, don’t we?” Michael asked softly, pulling Maria’s trembling body against his.

“Split up?” Isabel repeated, feeling her own anxiety rising.

Liz bit her lip, the anger in the room had been completely eclipsed by the pall suddenly hanging over the six of them. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she sought Max’s hand blindly. “Yeah,” she said hoarsely, the reality of it hitting her just as it struck everyone else. “We need to split up.” Liz swallowed hard, ignoring the heat to let Max pull her into the comfort of his arms.

“Max, are you sure?” Michael hedged, gathering Maria closer when she buried her face against his chest. “Maybe...”

“You said it yourself. We’re safer as individuals than we are as a group.” Max shook his head, cutting off the desperate argument he knew the others wanted to have. He and Liz had gone over every aspect of her premonition, he already knew there was no other way. “I’m not saying we split completely, but all six of us, grouped together like this…”

“We’re a damn big target,” Kyle finished grimly.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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Pathos
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Post by Pathos »

******Part 66 continued*******

“I didn’t mean to…” Isabel began, feeling her guilt begin to eat at her conscience, even as her temper sparked. Did he really think she’d done it on purpose?

“I know you didn’t mean to Iz, but come on, do you really want to risk your parents and everyone else…”

“Now you sound like Max,” Isabel shot back contemptuously. “And everyone was fine. Besides, that was…everyone was still in shock, they didn’t know how much they were giving away in the interviews.”

Michael glared, the comparison to Max doing nothing for his temper. “And you didn’t realize how many clues you were giving them about our location in those dreamwalks. We almost got caught! And if Langley hadn’t had Roswell crawling with media, they would have done more than just ‘question’ everyone that we left behind,” Michael burst out forcefully. It was the one good thing Langley had done, in his opinion. Leaking the army’s ‘miscalculation during a live ammo war game’ to the media had been a stroke of brilliance. For the second time in its history, Roswell, NM, had made the national news. Although this time, propaganda-wise at least, it had nothing to do with aliens.

“And who did you leave behind, Michael?” Isabel shot back. “You have no idea what this is like for the rest of us. And if one dreamwalk would help your girlfriend feel better, I’d think you’d want to…”

“Look, just don’t fucking do it, Isabel. What’s so goddamn hard to understand about that?!” Michael shouted before turning to glare at Maria. She’d been riding him all week, determined that this ‘King thing’ wasn’t going to go to his head, and now she sat there silently championing Isabel’s cause. “And would it kill you to just be on my side, for once?” he threw at her.

Maria blinked, unable to stop the tears that welled in her eyes. “On your side for once?” she choked out.

Michael stared. He’d fully expected Maria to snap back at him. Hell, he’d been half looking forward to it. What he hadn’t expected were her tears, or the defeated sagging of her shoulders. And in the silence that followed his outburst he became uncomfortably aware that he’d let his temper get the better of him. Again. He hadn’t lost it as much in the last 3 years as he had in the last week. OK, that wasn’t exactly true. But he’d come to the galling realization that, with Max gone, there was no one there to rein in his temper but… himself. And he was no fucking good at it. “Maria…” he began but she turned her back, taking a second to get herself under control. He took a deep breath and turned back to Isabel. “Look, Iz, I’m sorry. But you know the…”

“Rules, Michael? Rules? Don’t give me that,” Isabel whispered derisively. “You have no idea what we’re going through. These are our families we’re talking about, people we love,” she finished, exhausted tears filing her eyes.

Michael shook his head, his gaze skittering quickly over Maria’s crestfallen expression. “I’m… sorry,” he said helplessly. “But you guys, you just can’t. I, Jesus, it’s not even my rule, Iz,” he finished, well aware that he wouldn’t be able to escape being the target of either their anger, or their hurt. He knew what it was to be helpless, and he’d always hated it, but this was worse. This imposed responsibility, coupled with the silent reproach in Maria’s eyes was enough to make him wish for the Seal, just so he didn’t care what they thought. “Maria, I…”

Swallowing hard, Maria shrugged, forcing a tired smile for Michael’s benefit before she turned to Isabel. “Thanks, Iz but…we’ll just wait. See what happens…you know,” she finished softly.

Isabel sighed, nodding her acceptance though she took the time to glare once more at Michael. “If you change your mind…” she said softly, understanding Maria’s need to feel connected to her family better than she understood anyone else at the moment, even her brother. She didn’t know how Max had left everything behind so easily. Everything except Liz, Isabel corrected silently, shaking her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Maria,” she said, rising to her feet, too frustrated suddenly to deal with Michael anymore.

“Isabel…” Michael warned, but she was already heading for the door.

“I take it the meeting’s over? Good. I’ve got to go,” Isabel said coldly.

Maria followed Isabel to the door. “Thank you, really,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat when the taller girl engulfed her in a brief hug.

Michael shrugged helplessly, reaching for his girlfriend once Isabel was out the door. “Maria, really, I’m not trying to be the bad guy…”

“I know. Finish your conversation.”

Michael closed his eyes and dropped his hand. She may know, but that clearly wasn’t helping. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, hating that he was completely powerless to remove the shadows from Maria’s normally bright eyes. But he was. And suddenly he realized the toll the last few years had taken on her. Not just in terms of her nerves or her stamina, but in what she’d left behind. It hadn’t even occurred to him before now because Isabel was right. Everyone he’d ever cared about was right here. Hell, the only person he really needed was standing in front of him. Hurting. “Maria, just…tell me what…” Tell me what to do to make it this better, he finished silently.

“Finish your conversation,” Maria ground out.

Michael cleared his throat and did as she requested. “Yeah, Troy…”

“Sorry man,” Troy said regretfully, a lump in his own throat over the pain so clear in Maria’s voice, even across the phone lines. The road to hell, he figured in silent commiseration. “I didn’t realize. Langley said to stagger information but …”

“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said, his eyes on his girlfriend’s bent head. “Are we still secure?” he asked tiredly.

“So far. Langley’s handling the details on you guys but there hasn’t been any movement toward your position.”

“And you know this, how?” Michael asked, his brows furrowing.

“Nothing’s for sure,” Troy warned. “And Langley’s got more up-to-date info…”

“And…” Michael prodded, almost shocked to realize that he trusted Troy’s assessment more than Langley’s. Jesus Christ, what was the world coming to?

“I’ve been checking the rations requisitions…”

“I thought you were supposed to be laying low and not drawing attention to yourself.”

“Rations are never classified. And part of my new and exciting promotion is to compare Unit costs across the board,” Troy explained. “Anyway, there haven’t been any requisitions coming out of anywhere that would put you guys in danger, and the Special Unit’s been damn near silent lately, so I think you’re OK. For the moment,” he added.

“Right. Thanks Troy, um … “

“I’ll call you with anything new,” Troy promised. “Go take care of your girl.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, disconnecting the call quickly. He hesitated, and then turned to his girlfriend.

“Hold me,” Maria whispered, her anger forgotten in the need to feel his arms around her, the need to remember why she was doing this, and why it was worth it.

“I can do that.” Michael whispered, drawing her close. “I’m sorry,” he said, relieved to feel her burrow closer to his body. She was so tiny. And not nearly as tough as she’d have you believe, he reminded himself harshly.

Maria shook her head tiredly. “Don’t do that ok? Don’t say anything, just hold me.”

Michael nodded silently, wrapping his arms more tightly around Maria, and rocking her gently, forcing himself to project everything he felt for her, needing her to know.

“I know,” Maria whispered tiredly. “I know. It’s just, sometimes…”

Her voice was small, and fragile, and it faded quickly without her finishing her thought. At least she hadn’t pushed him away, Michael thought, sighing heavily and closing his eyes. If only he could leave them closed.


******************************


Pushing back from his desk, Troy settled back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. His new rank and clearance had made him a powerful man… so how come he didn’t feel like it? Because nothing had changed, he answered himself. Nothing. He’d spent the last two weeks going through every file relating to extraterrestrial contact he could get his hands on. Which, he’d been disturbed to learn, was more than a few files. Purposefully ignoring the boxes stacked haphazardly around his office, Troy wandered to the small window at the back. He wondered idly what else he had clearance for, and then decided he didn’t want to know. His access to ‘everything he’d never wanted to know about aliens and hadn’t thought to ask’ was quite enough, thank you very much. At least he had a view, he thought with a snort, tracking the jet as it lifted smoothly from the runway. How the hell had he ended up with a desk job? Hell, he’d half expected General Payton’s team to consist of specially trained assassins, or some odd real-life imitation of the Men In Black. Not even close. Apparently saving the world had little to do with action and everything to do with paperwork.

Troy rolled his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to stretch muscles loudly protesting too many nights spent hunched over a desk. He’d almost rather be a grunt pilot who knew nothing more than the orders he was given, but that would have been the easy way out. The coward’s way, he admitted, to turn his back on something simply because it was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. And it still frightened the hell out of him. Troy shook his head and took a deep, fortifying breath. It was time to start thinking outside the box, he counseled sternly. It was the same thing he’d been telling himself since he’d been assigned the office, which made it damn near hilarious that almost every friggin’ piece of information forming his newfound understanding of the universe had come from the worn and dusty lock boxes now littering his floor. Grinning to himself, Troy acknowledged that maybe he needed to get some sleep. Before he started thinking too much about his sudden involvement in this conspiracy within a conspiracy.

Duty, Troy thought cynically, was beginning to look like a euphamism for ‘morally ambiguous.’ Or just plain ‘screwed.’

Frowning a little, Capt. Morrisey studied Major Logan’s bulk from her position in the doorway and cleared her throat. Again.

Stiffening in surprise, Troy turned quickly and smothered an embarrassed groan when he found the ever proper and stoic Captain Morrisey staring at him, her expression tinged with disapproval. He felt his hand move automatically to his forehead before he remembered that he outranked her. He dropped his hand only to raise it again immediately in response to her salute. “What did you need Captain?” he asked gruffly, feeling like a fool.

Morrisey’s dark brows drew together in confusion. “These are the files you requested, sir,” she replied uncertainly, wondering if some idiot had screwed up the Major’s requisition.

Right. “Right, um just put those…” Troy quickly strode to his desk and scooped up the original Eagle Rock files, the ones amended to include the vague mention of later experimentation. He’d found the files predating 2000 both disturbing and utterly useless, but he was hoping that the ‘later experimentation’ might yield something interesting. With all the shadowed notations of reverse engineering experiments he was fairly confident, ok, hopeful that someone had finally cracked the technology. Or maybe they’d captured one of the aliens, the other aliens, the…bad ones as opposed to the ones he’d taken sides with. He shook his head. Was it too much to ask for, a weakness that would allow him to sleep easily again? “Put those here,” Troy ordered Morrisey, dropping the old files into a pile on the floor and pointing triumphantly at the blank space on his desk.

“Sir,” the Captain replied smartly, placing the files where directed. She turned on her heel and headed from the room, still slightly miffed to have been assigned to the new guy when there was so much going on.

Troy watched the Captain leave, still uncertain as to whether she was his aide-de-camp as it were, or if she were Payton’s eyes and ears. Maybe both, Troy admitted, all too aware that his boss didn’t trust him. And even if he’d been inclined to think he was being paranoid, their last conversation would have put that theory to rest.

“Don’t presume to understand me. And don’t presume to believe that just because I’ve been ordered not to harm you, there’s no room for interpretation.”

Sadly, Troy was hard-pressed to blame him. He’d read enough about the incarcerated shapeshifters to know that they hadn’t merely been interrogated. He wasn’t fond of Payton, but he found it hard not to respect the man’s grit. You didn’t survive what he’d gone through without a certain amount of character. Not that Troy had seen anything to recommend said character. But for a few moments, after reading about some of the live experimentation done, he’d let himself wonder if maybe Payton was scared of him. It would make a certain amount of twisted sense if he used the attitude to cover the fact that he was more afraid of humans, than they were of him. Troy snorted. He’d let go of that theory too. Payton was too much the puppet master in this play to give in to post-traumatic stress hysterics, unless it worked to his advantage.

Troy sighed. He understood the lack of trust, but frankly it had set his own doubts in motion. He knew Payton was testing his resolve, waiting him out to see if he’d change his mind. And even after everything, Troy had to admit he didn’t know whether or not he would. He had joined a war already in progress, effectively choosing sides against an alien adversary and several branches of his own government without seeing any real evidence to back up his decision. That still didn’t sit easily within his conscience. Especially considering that the more he read about the shapeshifters and the deaths they were likely responsible for over the last 50 years, the more he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d chosen the right side. He’d never deny another being’s right to live. Peacefully. But when had these aliens ever lived peacefully? The shapeshifters, not…not the ones he’d taken sides with. Except, practically speaking, weren’t they one in the same?

As usual, Troy wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. Max was a king, those shapeshifters were his subjects and the Skins were on Earth because he was. And as usual, just when he was working on getting up a good head of steam his shit-for-brains conscience reminded him that Max may have been a king, but he had no real power. And no blessed idea how to put an end to what his very existence had started. How could he hold Max Evans responsible for things that happened years before his birth? How could he not?

Dropping back into his chair, Troy closed his eyes in tired defeat. Already, he longed for a time when his duty was clear, when he’d known without question who his loyalty belonged to. Or should. But now… He wondered distantly if his newfound position constituted the swearing of allegiance to a foreign nation, an inhuman foreign nation. It did, didn’t it? Damn! When he decided to violate his oath, he violated his oath. Troy opened his eyes in disgust. No matter what they looked like, or felt, or wished for...they were aliens. Aliens seeking the American dream. It was almost funny, only…it wasn’t.

Max hadn’t been granted a choice, not in any of this, be it the position he held or the price on his head. But Troy’s own sense of responsibility refused to let that negate the young man’s responsibility. Some men are born great …and some men let their damned soft hearts talk them into things their common sense tried to avoid. Letting out a grimly amused snort, Troy thought of Max Evans and his wife. He had the feeling that Max would know exactly where he was coming from with that one. But common ground was nothing new. He’d spent his entire career fighting enemies that he could have found common ground with, and his sense of duty had never shifted. His loyalty had never bent.

So what the hell had changed?

There wasn’t a clear enemy or even a clear victim, that’s what, Troy acknowledged. There wasn’t a single side in this Twilight Zone episode that was beyond reproach and that certainly wasn’t helping him to navigate the moral quagmire he suddenly found himself immersed in. He didn’t exactly disagree with his decision, but he didn’t quite know how to completely defend it, either. And he wasn’t certain that one piece of evidence, the one he’d been searching for to prove that he’d done the right thing, even existed. There was always Xan…and in the end maybe that one innocent life would be enough. Assuming he could find a way to save all the other innocent lives he was suddenly responsible for. With a heavy sigh, Troy removed the stack of videotapes and picked up the first folder, his nose twitching a little with the pungent scent of mildew clinging to the paper. And then his breath caught in his throat when his eyes fell on the neatly typed heading of the case study:

Subject: Evans, Maxwell P.
Status: Unknown


Troy swallowed hard, noting the sloppy pencil mark that updated Max’s status to ‘non-terrestrial/alien’. He got up and locked his door, then forced himself to return to his chair. He stared briefly at the closed file, wondering what it would say, and wondering if he even wanted to know. Taking a deep breath he reached for the folder, feeling his heart pounding in his chest as he flipped it open and started reading.

Two hours later Troy struggled against gravity to stay seated on his barstool while pensively sipping a glass of scotch. His fifth.

“You need anything else, buddy?”

“Nope.”

“You doing OK?”

“Nope.”

“Girl trouble?”

“Nope.”

“You sure got a lot to say, man.” The bartender muttered sarcastically, making sure the huge man teetering on the stool couldn’t hear him as he walked away.

Troy shook his head, but he couldn’t get rid of the pictures. Or the clinical coldness of the words they’d used to rationalize…

Who’s inhuman now?

…that. Troy swallowed hard, unable to silence the question whispering through his conscience. The one thing he was suddenly certain of was that ‘non-terrestrial’ didn’t make someone inhuman.

Who’s inhuman now?

Subject is a closely related mutation…bone density analysis…heart rate…subject reaction to cold…to heat…subject blood work, type AB negative, traces of… Fragments of sentences ripped from the field report he’d read echoed dully through Troy’s mind, drowned out by the one question that suddenly took precedence in his quest to determine the right course of action.

Who’s inhuman now?

Troy closed his eyes taking a deep shuddering breath as pictures of a terrified and tortured 17-year-old boy filled his mind. A boy he was having difficulty reconciling with the man he’d met. The subject. Max’s distrust made even more sense now. Hell, he admired his restraint. They’d used Liz against him even then, used his humanity against him, Troy corrected darkly. People like him. People who’d taken same oath he had…and then shit all over it in the name of self defense. It made him sick, and part of him wouldn’t blame Max if he did amass an alien army and seek revenge. He was lucky, he knew, that Max was the more forgiving man. If it had been him who’d gone through that...

Time to put up or shut up, Troy decided, finishing his drink in a swallow. He glanced out the window, shuddering a little when the hum of the plane flying by the commissary did nothing to silence the roar of Max’s anguished screams. And God, he wished video had never been invented. At least now he knew he was on the right side.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Troy muttered, sliding off the stool and weaving a little as he headed from the bar, though his purpose had never been more clear. He did have a responsibility to the Air Force, but part of that responsibility involved not letting them become the enemy. He understood the military mindset, and he saw clearly how the fear of the unknown had turned into…that. But they were focused on the wrong thing, their resources and the time they had left were being used ineffectually to track innocent bystanders while the real enemy flew in completely under the radar. He needed to get those resources reallocated, and in order to do that, Troy knew he needed to get that Special Unit off Max Evans’s ass. And then maybe they could concentrate on the next step. And maybe they could avoid the war that seemed almost as inevitable as the dawn now sneaking across the horizon.

Clearly, necessity was the mother of invention, Troy thought, clinging to the building next to him as he made his way home. Because he was beginning to think that, maybe, he had a plan. Nodding, he mentally listed the things he’d need in order to discredit the Special Unit. Maybe all the time he’d spent going over those files hadn’t been wasted after all. All those little things buried under technical terminology and bureaucratic red tape, all the things that hadn’t seemed important at the time now… Now he needed to get home and sleep for a few hours. Then he needed a cold shower and some aspirin. And then he needed to get back to work, he needed to convince Payton he was right. And Max… The thought of everything he was about to put into motion sobered him a little. I’ll think about it in the morning, Troy decided wearily, throwing a sloppy salute at the officers’ quarters. He grinned, suddenly reminded that he wouldn’t be waking up tomorrow to the organized chaos of the barracks. Instead, he would be in his own bed, in his own room, with his own aspirin. Maybe rank had its privileges after all.


*******************************************

“And Jesse Ramirez?”

“Back on the radar,” Corwin replied tiredly. “He was at a conference, evidently decided to stay after the seminar was over and drown his sorrows.”

“We’re sure about that?” Nicholas pressed.

“As sure as we can be.” Corwin shook his head. “We’re still trying to reinstate the net around him. Hell, we’re still trying to tighten the one around the parents, but it’s a little difficult considering you’ve given me no personnel,” he griped.

“I’ve given you what I can, which is more than you deserve for your failure.” Nicholas sighed, tapping his pencil against the oak table in obvious exasperation. “And what is this?” he asked in disgust, gesturing at the snow clouding the video screen on the wall opposite his position at the head of the table. “Tell me you’re not wasting my time with…static,” he commanded coldly.

“I’m not.” Corwin replied. “Just give it another minute…

“I thought you said that the videos were useless. Beyond repair, wasn’t it?” Nicholas asked. “Except for the obviously planted tape you were originally so proud of,” he taunted.

Corwin’s eyes narrowed on the man sitting across from him. He’d never taken such a dislike to a human being in his life, but something about the superiority that lit the other man’s emerald eyes rankled him. “I said give it another minute.” Corwin growled. If only he didn’t have to put up with this ass in order to have his rank reinstated. “There!” he announced, his thoughts pulled back to the present by the hazy stream of video now showing across the huge screen.

Nicholas smiled slowly, Corwin’s excitement was contagious. Especially considering that, while the video wasn’t completely clear, there was no doubt that the woman on screen was Liz Evans. He raised his brows, impressed in spite of himself as he watched her confront the other full time resident of Project: Missing Link. And win. She’d gotten stronger, he acknowledged. His smile widened into a sly grin as he watched her pull the little boy, the Prince he was sure, into her arms. The boy-King’s greatest weaknesses, right there before him. Nicholas’ eyes narrowed, and his heart swelled with sudden fury. It would have been the perfect opportunity, and they’d missed it. “How is that supposed to help?” he snapped.

Corwin raised a brow. “Temper, temper.” He scolded sarcastically, nodding at the screen. “Pause that, and magnify L7.” He ordered the technician.

“You’re kidding, an Air Force officer on an Air Force Base? I’m shocked.” Nicholas mocked, standing up and leaning over the conference table to confront Corwin. “I’m going to ask you again…how does this help me?” he ground out softly.

And he thought he took this project personally. Corwin stood slowly, unable to completely mask his contempt as his gaze locked with General Sinclair’s. “Pay attention, I’m only going to explain this once. That…” he said, pointing at the screen and the large man in the Air Force uniform. “Is one of ours. Still. He obviously helped Liz Evans get that kid off the base. And he was promoted recently, by the General in charge of Missing Link.” He nodded, noticing the light of understanding that finally lit Sinclair’s eyes. “You wanted a connection to Max Evans, there he is. And Maj. Troy Logan already belongs to us.”

Nicholas inclined his head, impressed in spite of himself at the leg work. “Good work,” he admitted. He sat back down, his mind reeling with possibility as Corwin finished the briefing. He was closer to Max Evans than he’d been in years, and closer to the power he’d always deserved. So close he could taste it, feel it. Nicholas smiled coldly, completely unaware of the way Corwin’s uneasy gaze narrowed on his expression. Soon the seal wouldn’t be an issue and the key to unlocking the granolith would be in his hands. Patience, he counseled himself. You’ve waited this long, a little while longer isn’t going to kill anyone. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Nicholas acknowledged with a cold smile. But Max Evans wasn’t someone he planned to mourn.
The fact that we are fools is duly noted...
But must that be our epitaph?

-SRC


I'd be an idiot if I weren't less than pleased about being doomed.

- Warren Zevon
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