Roswell Fanatics

Part Eleven


“Mon Dieu!” Liz murmured as she stepped up to the window in the lounge.

“Tu aime?”

Liz turned to her advisor, Richard, and nodded while she grinned.

“Oui, c’est magnifique.”

Richard smiled and moved to stand beside Liz at the window, his silver hair glinting in the late afternoon sun. Below her, the university sprawled out down the hill to St Michel, the dark green of the Seine flowing down to the glowing Cathedral of Notre Dame. Behind the white sculpture, dark grey clouds rolled in, low and heavy but the sun tried to chase them away from the West.

“Ca combien?” She asked as she looked around the room, knowing that with the location so close to campus and right in the heart of the city, she would most likely not be able to afford the apartment. It wasn’t overly large or luxurious; there was two bedrooms one with en-suite, one bathroom and kitchen and a spacious lounge with this spectacular view of the city. From the balconied, patio windows in the master bedroom, she had a view across the Seine and she could see the far corners of the Louvre and the Champs-Elysees beyond.

“Pas beaucoup,” he said to her reassuringly and handed her the folder he’d had tucked under his arm as they had wandered around the room. “Ce n'est pas beaucoup plus que les étudiants sur le campus.”

Liz nodded. She was surprised by how much of the language he had managed to retain and/or pick up in the few hours she had been there. On the walk from St Michael Metro stop to the main reception of the University of Paris, she had tried to read as many signs in windows or listen in to as many conversations as she could. The accents were thick, the parole fast but she had managed to keep up with the conversation. Richard, her adviser and go-to guy, had asked her upon her arrival which language she would prefer to be addressed in. Being proud, she had demanded French and when she hadn’t understood some of his phrases, he had been kind enough to repeat it in French and then translate it into English for her.

It was all a learning process, just like she had hoped it would be.

In the past four hours since her arrival at the Sorbonne, she hadn’t thought about her parents or Max. It was working.

“C’est bon, non?”

Liz refocused her eyes and looked at the numbers on the page in front of her, feeling her eyes widen as she re-read the numbers again. Surely this couldn’t be right.

“But how...?” She said in English, forgetting her decision to speak only in French for the day. Richard smiled and plucked the file from her hands.

“Based upon the recommendation of your former professors and with the information you provided us on your finances, we worked to find the best situation for you. It was a choice between here and a similarly priced apartment in Montmartre area but the commute from there to here in the mornings can be... it is a busy route. We thought you would prefer this,” Richard spoke in flawless English. Liz nodded and looked back to the window. She certainly wouldn’t have that view up in Montmartre.

“I love it.”

“Il est abordable?”

Liz looked over to him and smiled slowly, letting her appreciation shine through. She could definitely afford it, especially now that things with her parents finances were getting sorted out. She had felt bad – like she was losing something – when she had sold the CrashDown but she had negotiated with the new owners that Maria be left with the option of a management position, should she chose it. The buyers had readily agreed and Liz had let go of another thing holding her back.

“Oui, c’est beau.”

“OK,” he said and smiled, magicking a pen from his pocket which he held out to Liz. She took it and looked down to the papers in her hand, smiling as she swirled her name on the dotted line. “Dans le matin...”

He went on to tell her about the meetings she would need to attend the next day for orientation – both as staff and as a student. He asked her if she had had any opportunity to narrow down her field of study and he had told him she had but that he’d need to wait for her presentation to the doctorate board just like the rest of them. He had laughed.

“Elizabeth, je t’aime,” he said as he patted her shoulder as he bypassed her into the hallway an hour later and Liz smiled at the sentiment. She only hoped she would impress him as much with her academic skills as she had with her social skills.

“Appelez-moi Liz.”

Richard turned back to her and Liz suddenly felt like she was in a meeting to defend her dissertation. He assessed her with his eyes, probing her own for an answer she wasn’t sure she knew the question to. She tried not to shuffle under his gaze but when she did eventually squirm he snapped out of it and smiled.

“No,” he said in English. “I cannot.”

Liz was dumb-founded. While she knew he was a professor – her advisor of studies – she had thought that in the last hour she had been on the way to making a new friend. Her confusion must have shone because Richard stepped forward and laid his hand on her shoulder, in a manner much like her father used to do, and smiled.

“Your given name is too beautiful to be shortened. I doubt you have been told that enough.”

As he stepped away, letting the keys to her apartment tinkle onto the table Liz watched him. As the door closed behind him, she felt herself sagging against the wall, the place where he had touched her burning. For the first time in months, she cried for her father.

--

Later that night, once the sun had set and the clouds had rolled in, Liz pulled the high backed arm chair over to the window in the lounge and huddled up on it with a cup of tea and a blanket in front of the open French windows. The sounds of the city wafted up to her; the cars rushing by in a loud wuzz-wuzz, groups of young people moving from place to place; in the distance, barges and boats blaring horns as they made their way up the river. Notre Dame was lit with floodlights, the shining white a beacon in the dismal weather. She listened to the rain hit the trees on the avenue outside her apartment, the splatters as her balcony became a mini reservoir.

She sighed, content, for the first time in a long time. Even the rain was different than Boston. It was soothing, welcoming, lulling. She closed her eyes and breathed in the steam of her peppermint tea, letting out a long low breath as she felt herself calm.

“Allez les bleus!” Someone called from the street below and a loud chant started up. Liz smiled; France were playing rugby against England. She guessed the French had won.

She could definitely get used to this.

An hour passed and she watched the city beneath her. She was tired – exhausted, even – but she was far too excited to sleep. The rain had ceased and the late summer breeze wafted the smell of freshness into her apartment. The bag at her feet rustled and she remembered then that she had a task to do. She groaned as she leaned down to the bag, pulling out the box as well as her American cell phone. She didn’t switch the latter on, not yet. Slowly, methodically, she set up her new phone – Vodafone FR – and added the numbers that she could remember by heart. Only then – after about forty minutes – did she turn on her American cell-phone. Almost instantly it began chirping but she ignored it as she scrolled through for Maria’s cell number. She stored it into her new phone and opened a message to her best friend:

”I’m alive. You wouldn’t believe this place. I think I found it. Love you, Liz xxx.”

She hoped Maria knew what she meant.

Her phone vibrated alerting her that she had a voicemail and when she checked, she actually had seventeen. It was only natural, since she hadn’t had her phone on in months. She dialled one and listened to the different messages, deleting Max’s as soon as she heard his voice. On the seventeenth, sent the day before, her heart stalled as she listened to the slow, rhythmic breathing on the other end. She was about to delete the message when she heard his voice, torn and wary and exhausted.

”Please come back to me.”

She didn’t cry.

From: deluca_deluxe@hotmail.com
To: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
Subject: You should see this.

I know that the last thing you want to do is think about him considering how well you’ve been doing recently but I really think you should take a look at E!Weekly. Right now.

Love and hugs

Maria xxx

From: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
To: deluca_deluxe@hotmail.com
Subject: re:You should see this.

You know I don’t put any stock in anything they E!Weekly has to say.

And besides, I thought you hated Max?

Love, Liz

From: deluca_deluxe@hotmail.com
To: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
Subject: re: You should see this.

You certainly put a lot of stock into it when you fled the country when they printed that picture.

I did and I still do, to an extent. But Michael has put some things in perspective for me and I really think you should see what E!Weekly has. You know I wouldn’t say if I didn’t think it was worth it. I’m not trying to hurt you.

Besides, not all of this is Max’s fault. You’re the one who’s in Paris, right?

Love and stuff

Maria

From: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
To: deluca_deluxe@hotmail.com
Subject: re: You should see this.

I’ve seen it. It doesn’t change anything; I still think I made the right choice. I’m happy Maria. Please don’t mess this up.

Liz

From: deluca_deluxe@hotmail.com
To: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
Subject: You are delusional

I can’t believe you just dismissed it like that. Hello, didn’t you see it? The pic was a promo shot from the movie – do you understand what that means? What you think happened didn’t happen!

You know, I don’t even know you anymore Liz. The Liz I know would have looked at this from all angles but I guess when it comes to Max Evans you really are just as blinkered as everyone else. You see what you want to see. He told me it was your idea to start that stupid thing you were doing with him. He told me it was your idea not to tell anyone about it. As much as I hate to admit this, the guy is crazy about you! Do you need proof?

1. He almost got fired from a movie for leaving in the middle of shooting when your parents died
2. He kept this a secret from the world because you wanted him to.
3. He bought you a god damn engagement ring and you turned him down. I saw the ring – you’re an idiot, by the way.
4. Look at this website he set up. ‘have you seen this girl?’

If you can’t see past whatever fog it is that is clogging up your brain then I don’t think I know you anymore. Use that logic you love so much. Draw up some lists.

Give the guy a break.

Maria

From: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
To: alien_king@gmail.com
Subject: Seriously?

A fucking ‘have you seen this girl?’ website? What’s next, a billboard?

From: alien_king@hotmail.com
To: paris_prof@hotmail.fr
Subject: re: Seriously?

Thanks for the idea.

“She was born to be the only woman I would love”

Max

A/N: This chapter earns its rating... (I's lazy and couldn't be bothered to check my timeline so the year may be wrong. I'll fix it tomorrow)

Chapter Twelve

Senior Year - 2001

When Max hobbled uncertainly on one crutch into the gym hall at four thirty in the afternoon, the last thing he had expected to see was Liz Parker balled up in a corner, crying softly to herself. He’d debated turning and leaving because really, he didn’t know her all that well. He only knew her through the strange art of Galaxy Subs in deserted bio labs and did that really qualify him as the person to help her deal with... whatever this was? He didn’t think so but as he watched her shoulders shake and her sobs echo around the empty vastness of the wood panelled gym, he knew he couldn’t leave her.

As he approached the bench closest to her, he made sure his crutch made as much noise as possible but she didn’t look up. Uncertainty crept up on him as he hovered over the bottom bench. He was only three paces from her so she must know he was there – so why hadn’t she looked up? Did she want to be left alone? In which case, wasn’t his presence a gross violation of that desire?

He sat anyway, resting his (soon to be useless) crutch on the floor and he waited. And waited. He checked his watch – it was almost five and the janitors would be coming soon to do the floors. He debated.

“Liz?” He said quietly, leaning forward slightly so that he could reach out and touch her hair. She stiffened instantly and Max wondered if she had known he was there, after all. “Sorry,” he said but didn’t remove his hand. “What’s wrong?”

She was silent for so long that Max didn’t think she was going to answer. But he waited, anyway with his hand skimming the edge of her hair, his eyes taking in her hunched form as he listened to her breaths quieten.

“I have had... the crappiest week,” she managed to say some time later and Max flattened his hand against her hair. It took a moment but she looked up to him and smiled sadly. “Sorry,” she murmured and ducked her head again.

Max shook his head.

“Don’t be. Come sit up here,” he said and slid along the bench. Liz looked up to him again and frowned, looking sceptically at the space he’d vacated for her. “I won’t bite,” he said quietly and she looked up to him startled for a moment before she smiled again. It pained him to see the pathetic imitation of happiness. “What’s wrong?” He asked again once she was settled and he pushed against the warm tingle that swept up his arm where her skin touched his.

She sighed and Max watched her shoulders rise and fall deeply.

“My grandma had a stroke the other day; I’ve always been really close to her and the thought of losing her...” her voice thickened again and she dropped her head into her hands and Max struggled with what to do next. What do you say to that? Platitudes were too easy and he wasn’t sure she would appreciate them anyway. He settled for touching the pads of his fingers to the space between her shoulder blades, watching the space and admiring the feel of her femininity. “Alex and Maria are fighting and these mid-terms are killing me and they tried to give me detention because I forgot my gym kit again and I just...”

She broke down again, her body turning into his and he automatically wrapped his arms around her pulling her to his chest. “Sshh, shh,” he murmured as he held her, rubbing her hands in circles on her back as she cried. “I’ve got you.”

And if she had anything to say about him pressing kisses to her hair and face and neck, she didn’t protest out loud.

--

After the funeral, Liz banished herself to her balcony. The twinkling strings of lights blinked in and out of focus as tears filled her eyes and escaped. She’d thought she had no more tears left but as she looked through the photo album her grandmother had made her of their summer the year before, the tears had reappeared and she’d been plunged into wracking sobs once again.

“Liz!” She sat up straight and wiped her face as she flipped the album closed. The voice was familiar but she didn’t understand what it was doing in her vicinity at this time of night, or at the bottom of her balcony. She waited a moment before moving to listen for the voice again. “Liz!” A pebble landed on her balcony and skittered to a stop near her feet. She looked at it for a second before standing quickly and moving to the edge. She peered over and looked down to see Max Evan (Max Evans!) standing at the bottom of her ladder, staring up at her. “Can I come up?”

“What about your knee?” She whisper-yelled down to him and he held his hands out, indicating his lack of crutch.

“I finally got rid of that crutch. Can I come up?”

She tried to think of a good enough excuse for him to go away but she came up blank. She nodded and he quickly moved to the ladder. His ascent was slow and she could hear him cursing under his breath with each step and she wanted to call out to him to tell him to leave it, that she’d see him at school but there was another – much larger – part of her that really, really wanted to see him. After the way he had comforted her in the gym, she’d found everyone else’s platitudes and comforts sorely lacking.

She could still feel the warmth of his lips on her skin.

Liz had never been kissed like that before and the memory – along with the tears she’d cried – left her breathless.

She helped him over the ledge and he leaned heavily against the railing, catching his breath. When he eventually looked up, Liz flinched. He was... achingly gorgeous, with his boyish half smile, flushed cheeks and tousled hair.

“What are you doing here, Max?”

“I heard it was your grandma’s funeral today. I just wanted to come by, you know?”

She smiled her thanks to him and fought the urge to reach out and touch him. Since that day in the gym, the urge had hit her at ridiculous times; like the day before, when she’d passed him in the corridors on the way to English and he’d smiled in her direction she had wanted to chase after him and have him wrap his arms around her again. Or the day before that when she’d dropped his Galaxy Sub off on the way to lunch, she’d barely refrained from running her hand across his cheek to see if it really was as soft as it looked.

“Thanks,” she said softly and he pushed off from the wall, moving to the seat Liz had been sitting in. He looked at the closed photo album, then back to her with a small frown. “I spent last summer with her and she made me that album with all the memories we’d made.”

She didn’t know the tears were leaking out again until Max was standing in front of her, wiping them away with his thumbs. His hands cradled her face while his thumbs stroked across her cheeks and she melted into his touch.

“It’s good that you have those memories.”

Her breath hitched and his hands slid from her face to her neck, then around her shoulders and she felt him tug her to his chest. She went willingly and nestled her face in the soft fabric of his tee shirt, letting the sobs break free.

“I’m just, just so scared that, that I’ll forget her...” she managed between sobs and Max’s grip on her tightened with each word.

“The only way you’ll forget her is if you fall and bash your head and get amnesia. And even then you’ll have things like your photo album to remind you of her.”

She let out an airy, wretched sob at that and she felt pressure on her hair that indicated Max’s lips touching her. She wanted to pull back, to look up at him but she was too afraid that he would loosen his embrace and she wasn’t ready to be left in the cold again. So she nestled further into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and, ever so discretely, brushed her lips across his chest. She felt his breath hitch slightly so she did it again. His arms tightened and he caught his breath again.

“Liz...” She tilted her head up to look at him, his eyes hooded as he stared down at her. “What are you doing?” She moved to pull back but his arms didn’t release her. “Do it again.”

She frowned slightly and Max brought his hand up to her head, urging her head into his chest. She complied, easily, and she parted her lips slightly, pursing them and touched them to the skin just above the collar of his tee. He made a sound that Liz very much approved of so she did it again and again until her tongue decided to join the fray and travel up the column of his neck.

“Max...” she whispered into his ear when he tilted his head slightly downwards. Hi fingers skimmed up her spine at his touch, combined with the sheer silk of her layered black dress caused goose bumps to erupt on her skin and her nipples to harden into tight pebbles. His hand flattened against the bottom of her back and he drew her impossibly closer to him.

“I want to kiss you, Liz.”

So she turned her head and waited for his lips to touch hers. Her skin erupted at the gentle touch and she pulled herself flush against him, melding their lips together in a way that seared across her mind. His tongue sought entrance and her last coherent thought was to grant him access. It was heaven and hell combined because there was no way something that felt so good could actually be so good. She moaned – or was it Max? – and found herself against the wall next to her window with Max’s hands grasping her wherever he could. His hands were on her face then at her back then brushing her thigh, her butt, her back and oh God he felt so good pressed up against her and she never realised that the smell of someone could be so... soo... overwhelming.

She grasped at him, clawing for anchor but she wasn’t sure she wanted to break the surface with this. She wanted to be lost – with him, to him, in him. She felt something hard press into her, his strong fingers gripping her thigh and when she drew back to look at where he was touching her she realised her leg was against his hip and he was grinding into her.

He took her gasp as displeasure and tried to pull back but Liz shook her head and grabbed his tee shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Liz. I don’t know what-“

“Max, please don’t stop. This is the most alive I’ve felt in days.”

“If I don’t stop I won’t be able to stop... do you understand?”

As Liz looked up into his obsidian eyes (she had did that, to Max Evans!) she knew she definitely understood. Was that what she wanted? Could she do it? Did she want to?

Yes, yes and yes her body responded. She waited a moment for logic to kick in but it simply nodded its head in agreement. It removed the pain, replaced it with pleasure and this was Max Evans.

She couldn’t say no, even if she’d wanted to.

She pulled his head down to hers and crushed her lips to her, shifting her hips and Max’s grip on her thigh tightened as he returned her thrust with one of her own.

He pulled back from her and slid his hands under her dress, over her hips and up the side of her body. He paused at her breasts and looked into her eyes, seeking permission already granted and cupped them. The warmth of his palms melted all thought from her mind and she moaned loudly into his neck as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. Her exposed legs trembled at the sensations and her head dropped back against the wall as he nibbled at her neck.

“I’ve never done this before,” he murmured huskily into her throat as he continued his assault of her breasts and she felt her breath hitch. “If I do something wrong...”

“You’re doing... Oh God... Max...”

He grinded against her and bit into her neck, flicking his tongue over her pulse and she felt some strange mix of lust and something else at the feel of her life in his mouth.

“I think you can feel how well you’re doing with me,” he said and quickly pulled back from her, tugging the dress over her head. Her hair danced around her face for a few moments and she battled with it and when it was clear of her eyes she watched as Max dropped his own tee shirt to the floor. His chest was... beautiful; toned and sleek and tempting and if she looked close enough she could see the rhythm of his pounding heart beat a staccato against his rib cage. “You’re beautiful, Liz...” he murmured as he stepped back up to her, the feel of his skin against her the most glorious torture she had ever felt.

“Max...” She murmured as she reached for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them and she cursed button flies.

“They’re new... harder to unbutton, even for me,” he explained as he popped them expertly. Liz watched as he kicked off his sneakers and then dropped his jeans and stepped out of them. He stepped up to her against and Liz whimpered from the feel of him poking into her stomach. “Liz... Oh, God I don’t have any...”

“I’m on the pill, Max...”

Kiss.

“It’ll hurt you...”

Nibble.

“My hymen broke when I was horse riding years ago... it won’t hurt me.”

Suck.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

His hands cupped her breasts again, his fingers finding her nipples and he bent his knees so he could pull her bra down and suck her nipple into his mouth.

“Oh, Max... Max...” She thrust wildly against him and he groaned, the sound vibrating across her skin and going straight to her already overheated core. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra, shimmying out of it as Max feasted on the newly exposed skin. She could feel him thrusting against her hip and-

She was going to have sex with Max Evans.

What the hell??

He kissed her, long and slow and his fingers travelled up the inside of her thigh, his knuckles brushing unexplored territory and Liz purred into his mouth. He jerked into her again and his fingers slid her briefs aside. His limber fingers traced her lips and she could feel the wetness spreading and she couldn’t help but grind against his hand. Slowly, torturously, he slid a single finger inside of her, both of them moaning at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Max groaned against her lips, the finger moving in and out of her slowly, leisurely and Liz’s eyes rolled in her head. If this is what his finger felt like, she couldn’t imagine what his cock would feel like inside of her.

She had to know.

She pushed his boxers down and he wiggled his hips, his now free cock rubbing against her skin and they both whimpered at the sensation. She grabbed her briefs and pushed them down as Max slid another finger inside of her and she moaned loudly, biting his shoulder as she thrust down on his fingers, matching his rhythm.

“Max, please...”

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up. Liz felt the brick scrape her back and it was oddly pleasurable. She whimpered as he pressed her into the wall and she reached between them to grab his cock, sliding her hand up and down slowly before moving him blindly to where she felt the gaping ache the most.

He loosened his grip on her slightly and she slid down, taking him in one glorious inch and she cried out slightly. While her hymen had been broken, she had never been penetrated before – not even by her own fingers and while the sensation was slightly uncomfortable, the pleasure quickly won out. She let herself sink onto him further, listening to him hiss as he slid further inside of her. She’d heard that men didn’t normally last long their first time and she was determined to make the most of what she had.

When he was fully inside of her, they paused, panting and Max pulled his head back to look at her.

“I’m inside of you, Liz.”

Desire, hot and molten, shot to where they met and he groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“You’re so big...” She murmured as he began to rock slowly inside of her, his cock sliding in and out, in and out. It wasn’t enough so she rocked her hips to Max his movements and a breathy ‘ah’ left her mouth each time he filled her whole again. His actions hastened and the friction was delicious and she was glad that the pain had been removed from this encounter because she was really, really enjoying it. She reached her hand down, feeling where they were joined and Max’s hips jerked faster and she slid down the wall.

“Fuck!” Max grunted as Liz let out a small gasp of surprise as he found a new spot and she sped her movements up to meet his. She could feel his sweaty forehead press into her neck as she pistoned in and out of her, and her thighs tightened around him as his teeth sank into her shoulder. She reciprocated, taking the skin of his neck into her mouth and she sucked and bit and nibbled as a warm, colourful wave passed over her and she lost conscious thought.

When she resurfaced, they were on the ground, their knees bent and Max was cradling her boneless figure to his chest. They were breathless, panting and sweaty and Liz wouldn’t have changed it for the world. He moved his hands up and down her back and she felt him stiffen slightly.

“You’re bleeding,” he said in admonishment and Liz pulled back to look at his fingers. He shifted and looked at her back as Liz watched her blood trickle down his finger. “Shit Liz, you should have told me I was hurting you.”

“It wasn’t sore.” She moved and winced as she felt something pull and she looked up and met Max’s glare. “It is now but it wasn’t then. I would have told you.”

He watched her and shifted his hips and it was only then that Liz realised he was still inside of her.

“Oh!” She gasped as he moved, the sensation too much for that area of over sensitised skin and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to keep him in place. She only succeeded in drawing his hardening cock further inside of her. She pulled back and looked up at him.

“I’m embarrassed to be hard when you’re bleeding so don’t look at me like that.”

Liz shifted her hips and Max dropped his head onto her shoulder.

“You can help me clean it up later. But for now, we’ll deal with this problem.”

As they rocked together slowly for the next half hour, Liz assured herself she would deal with the aftermath later.

“I just can’t believe he put billboards up of me. Isn’t that like... illegal?”

The woman sitting across from Liz tilted her head as she studied the brunette’s features, the large desk separating them with what was obviously a large sign that said “I am a barrier” with its ornate decoration and huge, impossibly-large-in-the-tiny-cramped-room mass. It was meant to intimidate but Liz’s anger would not allow for anything else in the room to be intimidating.

“Perhaps he would just like to find you.”

Liz had decided, after some gentle prodding by Richard, to see ‘someone’ to help deal with any residual issues she had left over from her parents death. As Richard had pointed out – in an annoyingly similar manner that Maria had months before – Liz was not dealing with her parents’ death, or anything that had happened with Max. Some might argue that she still wasn’t over her grandmother’s death a number of years before.

She wasn’t one of those people.

“Surely there are other ways. I mean... doesn’t he know how embarrassing it is?” Doctor Verne nodded her head slightly and indicated for Liz to continue. “I mean... there are people in my class who follow that idiot on Twitter, so they obviously know about the website. People I teach are coming up asking me if I’m the girl that Max Evan is looking for. How can I expect anyone to take me seriously when my face is plastered over almost every billboard in northern America and the north of France? It’s so... argh!”

“Perhaps he was simply hoping it might spur a reaction from you.”

“Well it did! Anger!”

Verne smiled tightly and looked down to the pad in front of her. Liz had discovered on her second visit that it made her uncomfortable for Verne to be writing while she spoke and she had asked that the doctor refrain from note taking while Liz was in the room. Verne had pursed her lips but acquiesced and Liz wondered what the doctor had wanted to note down at that request.

“I think he may have expected you to become angry with him.”

“I did! I am furious with him!”

“Does he know that?”

“He must,” Liz countered and sunk back into her chair. She knew what the doctor was getting at. How could she not? Max obviously (ridiculously) thought he could draw Liz out of hiding by doing exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen the whole time they had been ‘together’.

The shit.

“Have you spoken to him about this? Asked him to remove the webpage?” Liz shook her head sulkily. “I believe that he won’t until you speak to him. Each day, a new message appears.” Liz lifted her eyebrow at that. “I check up on it, yes. Have you been on the webpage, Elizabeth?”

“No. And I don’t ever intend to.”

Verne nodded slightly and tapped her finger on the desk. Liz knew that meant she wanted to make a note about something but was acquiescing to Liz’s request.

“Why not?” Liz shrugged. “I think you should.” Liz glared at her. “You needn’t leave a message, but I think it might help to convince you...” Verne trailed off and tapped her fingers against the edge of her desk again and Liz narrowed her eyes.

“Convince me of what?”

Verne pursed her lips again and Liz waited a moment before Verne met her eyes again.

“The man is obviously very deeply in love with you.”

Liz bristled.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to make that assumption,” she bit out and made to stand, gathering her purse and jacket from the table at the side of the plush seat.

“Only one person in this room is truly qualified, yet she will not accept the truth.”

“Because if he truly loved me, he wouldn’t be doing this to me.”

“Doing what?”

“Making me want to run away from him again.”

--

“Explain your relationship with Max to me.”

Liz squirmed in her seat. It had been two weeks since she had walked out of Verne’s office in a blaze of unglorious anger and she had fully intended to never go back. But the week that she had been absent had been surprisingly difficult for her and she wished that she had someone impartial to speak with. She had gone onto Max’s webpage for her just out of intense curiosity and she had cried for three hours after it.

Even a trip up the Seine on the Bateuax Rouge the next morning hadn’t made her feel better.

She hadn’t really thought he would continue the ‘game’, given the circumstances so she hadn’t really thought much about going onto the page late on a Thursday night. The scrolling message, posted by “Alien King” two hours before had drawn each and every last particle of breath from her lungs.

I poured my booze all down the kitchen drain...
I thought that would help keep my head on straight...
But it’s true, I’m still blue...
I finally know what to do...
I must quit, I must quit you...

And she had felt pain so intense that she had doubled over at the waist and sobbed until her chest ached and her throat was hoarse. She had scrolled down the page of updates and noted all of the different lyrics, getting progressively less hopeful. It burned through her.

Now I found that when it comes to you
I’m the winner of cards I can’t play...

And for the first time since all of this crap had happened... She felt bad. She felt like the pathetic girl who had run away from all of her problems that Maria had accused her of being. How could she inflict such pain on the man she was supposedly in love with? She should have called him, let him know she was at least alive. She should have asked him if the pictures of him and Tessa Harding going at it outside of a LA club were... what they seemed to be, rather than refusing to take his calls the day that “the story” broke.

She should have asked him about that damned Lane interview all those years ago.

“He’s it for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Liz gulped passed the lump in her throat and tried to lift her eyes to meet Verne’s but she couldn’t. She was barely holding it together sitting in the seat opposite the doctor and she knew that as soon as she looked up, she would crack. She couldn’t crack. She’d fought so hard over the past year to make sure she didn’t crack and she couldn’t just...

“Everyone else pales in comparison... I’ve tried... to... to see other people since I’ve been here. But... I always compare them to Max. They always lose. Everyone else will always be second best.”

“Why are you here, Liz?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you in Paris?”

Liz sighed. Wasn’t that the million dollar question?

“I had to get away. Maria says that I... that I’ve been running away but... I don’t regret coming here. I had to do it. After my parents died, I felt like I was drowning... And Max was pressuring me to... to be with him and I wanted to be with him and I thought that I was ready to be and then that picture got released and I snapped and I just... Nothing fit anymore. Max had always been my lifeline and when I needed him the most... The rug had been pulled out from under my feet and I just had to find myself again. If I had been with Max then, if we’d... it wouldn’t have lasted. I would have become that girl I promised myself I wouldn’t become.”

Liz stopped talking then, not because she wanted to but because the lump that was in her throat blocked any more words from coming out. She swiped at the tears on her face and choked back a sob.

“What girl is that?” Verne asked quietly and Liz finally looked up to her. She waited a moment then shrugged. “You must know, Elizabeth.”

Liz sighed and bit her lip.

“I didn’t want to be Max Evans’ Girlfriend.” Verne’s brows furrowed. “I wanted to be with Max but I didn’t want to be known solely because I was Max Evans’ girlfriend. No one would take me seriously. If I had chosen to come to Paris, to the Sorbonne, if Max and I were public knowledge, people would assume he’d paid for it, used his influence. They wouldn’t believe that I earned the right to be here. If I got a book deal like I wanted so badly, people would think it was because I was Max Evans’ girlfriend. Coming here... I’ve did all of this on my own. No one can say my accomplishments have come off the back of someone’s fame, or someone’s name. I’m not that girl.”

“You’ve come a long way, Elizabeth, since you were last here.” Liz looked up and frowned in question slightly. She felt as though she’d gone backwards. “You’re heart is finally realising what your head has known for a long, long time.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re parents are gone. That you’ve hurt someone you love. That part of the reason you’re here is because you were running away. You have a stubborn personality Elizabeth, which is both a blessing and a curse. You must learn to deal with grief differently than you have been. Moving away from the scene of trauma does not help us deal with it; it is in our hearts that the pain resides. You cannot locate yourself away from that. You must work through it. After a year, you have finally made that first step. You’ve moved beyond denial and anger... You’re in the acceptance stage now. You might think you are worse off now than you were two weeks ago but you are making progress, Elizabeth.”

“It hurts so much more now,” Liz admitted quietly and sniffled. She felt pathetic. But so much lighter at the same time.

It was a strange sensation.

“I’m glad you’ve made this progress, Elizabeth. If you had not, the next step was medication. I am glad we don’t have to go down that road, now.”

Liz smiled tightly.

“So am I.”

--

When Liz got home that night, she fired up her laptop and loaded Max’s hystg.com website. She read through all of the different responses, claiming to have seen her in Cancun and Istanbul, smiling as she recognised a few people from her class commenting that Liz was right there in Paris. She took a breath and checked the ‘anonymous’ box on the comment form before filling out the small rectangle.

I met myself just today
Came alive in my grave
And I’m the best, the best of me
For you my love... for you, I’ll be...

She hoped he understood.

Max drummed his fingers against the table a he scanned the automatic dump on his livejournal, his heart beat increasing with each pass of his eyes. He and Maria had come a long way this past couple of months but Liz was still her best friend.

He scanned it again. He needed something to distract himself.

• 07:47 @deluca_deluxe Should it be taken down? I’m glad Michael got through your thick skull. #
• 08:38 Going sightseeing! #
• 16:01 @TessHarding I hear you’re doing creation con *thumbs up* See you in Chicago! #
• 16:42 I don’t know how you Brits survive. I’m only just heating up! #
• 19:02 @deluca_deluxe You know I mean it in jest. You’ve spoken to her?
• 19:15: @deluca_deluxe Yeah. For me, it was almost a year ago. Tell him I’ll be leaving London tomorrow. Flying to NY then down to NM. #
• 19:52 It’s raining. I’m surprised. I don’t know why. You Brits have got it bad. #
• 19:57 @azure_h Yeah! Thanks for the book; I had a good chuckle about it. Enemy territory huh? Thanks #
• 20:03 @m_geller_ get out of my apartment, you asshat!. #
• 20:11 @m_geller_ don’t redecorate this time, please. #
• 21:06 Rod just dropped off new script. The man would have me work 247365 if he could. It’s a good job he knows my coffee order #
• 23:22 Rod was not pleased with that! Sorry #
• 23:29 @TessHarding A shame you missed London. It’s been fun . #
• 23:58 I need sleep! #
• 03:32 @ deluca_deluxe go to the site NOW. Do you think? #
• 03:41 @ deluca_deluxe <3 for you. She’s made the first move – where is she?
Automatically shipped by LoudTwitter

His phone buzzed across the table beside his laptop. He snatched it up and stared at the incoming text. It was a bundle and he grinned ridiculously.
• 04:01 MD, you are my second favourite person in the world right now

Part Fifteen

“There’s a flight out of Heathrow at ten to six but... they were expecting you to be there to fly back to New York so...”

“So...?” Max said impatiently to Rod as he threw the small contents of his hotel room into his suitcase. He was only half listening; all he could think about was that he was going to see Liz. He was going to see Liz. His heart stuttered at the thought.

“I booked you on a flight from Luton to Charles de Gaulle. It leaves at six. I’ve already checked you in so if you leave,” Rod checked his watch, “right now you should get there just in time to board.”

“Luton isn’t even in London!” Max said as he straightened. He’d called Rod as soon as Maria had sent him the text bundle and told him to find the earliest available flight to Paris. He didn’t care about the cost. He didn’t care that he had only slept for about thirty minutes. He was going to Paris and he was going to see Liz.

“It’s just outside so it’s even better. It’s a no frills airline so the press won’t even consider it. It helps to keep this escapade under wraps, doesn’t it?”

Max grumbled and slung his small carryon bag over his shoulder and swiped a hand down his face. He really could be doing with a shower. And a shave. Maybe cleaning his teeth but...

“You better go. There’s a car waiting down stair out front. I’ll make sure your case gets back to Roswell.”

Max practically sprinted to the door, stopping only so he could turn to Rod and thank him.

“You have no idea how much this means.”

Rod rolled his eyes.

“It’ll all be for nothing if you don’t get out of that door right now.”

Max grinned and pretty much skipped out of the room. As he waited for the elevator to arrive, he bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet. He was skittish, he would admit. He’d been waiting for this for almost a year and... it was finally happening. He had been on the verge of giving up, feeling that his attempts to locate Liz had been futile when the anonymous message had appeared. His heart had stopped for a good few seconds before jolting back to life with a double quick step as he’d read the lyrics of his favourite song. Maria had confirmed; it was Liz.

Through the glass doors, the usual swarm of paparazzi lay in wait but Max didn’t give them a second glance as he pushed through the flashing cameras and questions. Edward was waiting by the car and as Max approached, the back door opened and he slipped in. He hoped to God the press wouldn’t follow; the last he needed was for the press to follow him to Paris and show up on Liz’s doorstep. He thought the surprise presence of himself was enough.

The drive through London was quick in the way-too-early-in-the-morning nonexistent traffic. Max and Edward made small talk every now and then but Max was too nervous to even consider serious conversation. He answered the drivers’ questions about his new projects politely but neither confirmed nor denied that he was being considered for the role of the Riddler alongside Christian Bale’s Batman. It was, to be honest, the first he’d heard of it.

Driving through some po-dunk town called Bedford, Max sighed when he finally saw the signs pointing to Luton. Another half hour. He chanced a glance at his wrist and noted he had little over forty minutes until his gate closed.

“Luton better not be anywhere near the size of Heathrow,” he murmured as he tapped his fingers against his jerking knee.

Twenty minutes (and a few broken speed limits) Max was dropped off at... a shack. Well, not quite a shack but he couldn’t believe this tiny little place classed as an airport. Shrugging of his prejudice, Max sped through the front doors into a dark, empty room. If he didn’t know any better, he would think the place was closed. As it was, he followed signs for the departure lounge, foregoing the check in desk. At security, he passed right through and a young woman in an orange and grey suit rushed him through the airport to the correct gate just as they were calling his name across the tanoy. Aboard the plane, he ignored the not so subtle glances of the staff and the passengers and took a seat in an empty row. He sidled up to the window but in the pre-morning darkness, he could see little.

“... we will be arriving in Charles de Gaulle airport in a little over an hour, where the local time will be roughly eight twenty. The cabin crew are available for any enquiries...” Max lost focus on his hearing then as he laid his head back on the chair, suddenly exhausted. His head bobbed. “...even if you are a frequent flier, please...”

He dreamt of conventions and autograph signings and Liz Parker asking him to marry him from a flash card.

“Welcome to Paris Charles du Gaulle, where the outside temperature is a chilly five degrees Celsius. If you are staying in Paris, enjoy your stay. If you are travelling onwards, have a safe and pleasant journey. Should you require a rental car, our partner company...”

Max drifted off as the plane taxied to its terminal. It was only the rustling of people moving that woke him from his final slumber and he blinked quickly, and brought his world back into focus. He looked out the window again and saw a dull, overcast day. It looked... cold. He sighed and stood, tugging his grey pea-coat tighter around his body in preparation. Grabbing his bag from the overhead compartment, he smiled politely to the cabin crew as they bid him farewell and followed the throng of people through the terminal. He’d been to Paris a few times for premieres but hadn’t had the delight of landing at terminal 2B. He hoped he never had to again, either.

It took until he was safely through security and border control to realise he had no local currency. He sighed, sagging slightly and looked around for an ATM and, seeing none, panicked. How the hell was he supposed to get...well, anywhere? He had no idea where the taxis were, or the trains and he had no money to pay them anyway.

“I really didn’t think this through very well.”

He began walking. Every so often, he checked the lines of shops for an ATM and after a ten minute walk down the world’s longest connecting tunnel ever, he spotted one. Knowing his luck, it was probably out of order. Trudging over to it, suddenly lethargic again, Max found that – thankfully – it worked. Selecting English (Anglais?) he withdrew the biggest amount he could. He stopped again.

He needed coffee. Like, right away. He looked around, spotting a small cafe and walked over to it. The queue was small and he was glad. He ordered a double espresso, s’il vous plait and received an ill concealed glare at his mutilation of the French language. At least he tried. He took a seat and sipped at the heavenly beverage, sighing as he felt his focus return to him. Downing the shot, he sat back and closed his eyes.

Okay, what were the options?

He took out his phone and read the information Maria had sent him. Okay, so Liz lived in the Saint-Michel area, near the University of Paris. Good... now where the hell was that? How did he get there? Taxi was probably his best bet but he wasn’t sure he wanted to chance his luck – he couldn’t remember how far the airport was from the city and he didn’t want to get stuck in rush hour traffic. Was it even still rush hour?

He could get the train but... he’d heard nightmare stories about the Metro system and he doubted that, considering he had no idea where he was going, he’d be able to navigate his way around the multitude of coloured lines.

He looked back to the screen in front of him and felt an idea form in his mind. He had to contact Liz at some point and, rather than show up at her doorstep...

He highlighted the number Maria had sent him and his thumb hovered over the ‘call’ button before he took a breath and pushed it down.

It took her six rings to answer but when she did, Max felt all the breath leave him at once.

“Bonjour?” When the shrill ring in his ears subsided, Max heard her gentle voice ask and he imagined it wasn’t for the first time. “Hello?” She repeated in English and Max sighed again.

“Liz...”

Liz dropped her phone into her desk drawer and let her head sink into her upturned palms. When she had seen the screen of her cell flash with “Nombre Inconnu”, the last person she had expected to hear was Max Evans. She had almost let her cell drop from her hand in shock at the sound of that voice breathe her name across what she had, wrongly, assumed was thousands of miles.

”I’m at Charles du Gaulle and I have no idea where I’m going.”

She had said nothing for such a long time that Max had called her name again, twice, until she managed to make a really, disgustingly annoying noise in the back of her throat that was supposed to be his name. She’d asked what he was doing in Paris and she could almost hear the smile in his voice as he’d told her that he was there for her. Those words, so quietly spoken in such a gentle tone, had sent shivers of fear and lust down her spine.

The lust had taken over for a moment and she’d instructed him on how to get to St Michel (”Just stay on the B until you get to Cluny la Sorbonne,”) but he anger was quickly returning. Who did he think he was, just showing up... and for what? All she had done was leave an anonymous comment on his webpage; the last thing she had expected was that he would fly half way around the world to see her. It was ridiculous.

But also kind of sweet.

She kicked at the table in her small office and gripped her hair as she let out a growl of frustration.

“Is this a bad time?” She looked up to the young woman standing in the doorway and smiled tightly. “You look frustrated.”

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

“Something like that.” Lyn-Ann was at the University of Paris studying the history of language (Liz had taken the class and after two days, really wished she hadn’t) and was in the semantics class that Liz taught. “What can I help you with?” Liz asked, assuming that the girl was there in a student capacity, rather than a friend capacity. Given the wide demographic of the class, the lines between student and friend were often blurred. Liz found that she liked it that way.

“I need a date to this gala thing on Friday night,” Lyn-Ann said and Liz smiled over at her. “I was thinking you.”

Liz nodded.

“Where is it?”

“It’s at the Musee D’Orsay and I was going to ask JP but he’s going with that girl from your class,” Lyn-Ann said with a shrug and Liz smiled sympathetically; Lyn-Ann had had a thing for Jean-Pierre since day one. “Fancy it?”

Liz was about to say yes but then looked at her calendar; it was Wednesday, Max was here and... She sighed and dropped her head into her hands again, shaking her head and letting out same defeated groan again.

“I have something I need to sort out-“ at Lyn-Ann’s raised eyebrow Liz groaned again. “A friend flew in as a surprise... I don’t know how long he’ll be here for.”

Lyn-Ann’s eyebrows rose in excitement and Liz groaned again.

“He?” Liz nodded but then quickly shook her head. “Did you know that Max Evans has finally taken that website down?” Liz looked up then. She hadn’t known, actually, but it made sense. He had found her; there was no need to keep it up. Hopefully that meant the billboards would be down soon, as well and she’d be able to walk down the streets without seeing her twelve foot tall face peering back at her. “Does this have anything to do with your unexpected guest?”

Liz shrugged and decided it was time to leave. She stood quickly and gathered her bag from beneath her desk and slung it over her shoulder, ushering Lyn-Ann out of the door.

“I’ll call you tonight or tomorrow morning and let you know about Friday, okay?”

Lyn-Ann laughed but moved at Liz’s motion.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

Liz left the University by the main door, bidding farewell to a few students she knew as classmates and some as students. She walked down Saint-Jacques and tucked her jacket tighter around her as the chilly March air crept in around her chest. It was unseasonably cool and damp and the Parisians had yet to shed their winter jackets and Liz really couldn’t blame them. She turned left out of the wind onto Boulevard Saint-Germain and felt her heart rate quicken as she saw a swarm of people clamber up from the underground station. She knew Max wouldn’t be amongst them asit was still too early for his train to have arrived but...

She pushed against the crowd and stopped at the ticket office, buying another pass. She swiped her own navi-go pass and pushed through the turnstile, all the while fighting the urge to turn tail and run. She had spoken to him not twenty minutes ago so she knew she wouldn’t be able to pretend she had forgotten. What would she say to him? What was he have to say to her? She wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear.

She went down to the platform and took a seat at the very end of the platform so that she would see him as he walked by her and pulled a book from her bag, settling in to wait for his train. Twenty minutes later, his train pulled in and Liz had only read two pages. Her palms were sweating and the spine of her book was slick, slipping from her grip. Her heart was thundering in her chest, her lungs struggling to take in oxygen and she hadn’t even seen him yet.

Oh God, what was she doing here?

She stuffed the book into her bag and stood, searching the masses of faces that walked passed her. She was beginning to think she had imagined the whole of their conversation but then she spotted him. Oh God, and he was even more beautiful than she remembered. His hair was longer, his bangs brushing his eyelashes and curling at the neck and over his ears. He wore a black tee shirt and the gray pea coat he’d had specially made for him for a movie, a pair of black jeans and lace up boots. She wanted to run to him, to let him take her in his arms and ravage each other but her legs wouldn’t move and when his eyes met hers all the breath left her in a loud rush, her anger and anxiety forgotten. As he got closer, she could see the dark circles under his eyes and realised that he looked haggard.

“Liz...” he said again in that breathy tone as he stopped in front of her. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, stepping up until his chest was pressed against her. Liz felt the tears sting the back of her eyes, felt his nose nuzzling against her neck and his chest rising and falling in rapid succession and she hated how much his embrace felt like home.

She was suddenly exhausted and it took all of her remaining energy to pull back from him and look up at his face.

“I want so much to be mad at you right now but I don’t really have the energy.” Max chuckled lightly and Liz didn’t berate him. “Come on, we can go for coffee.”

She reached down and took his hand and it wasn’t until they stepped back into the street that she realised she had done it. She loosened her grip on him in preparation to drop his hand but Max only held on tighter, tugging her hand slightly to pull her closer to his side. Liz wanted to protest but her body melted to his side, anyway and she decided not to argue with both her mind and her body.

She’d been at war with herself for far too long.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

They were in a small creperie just down from the university; she was almost self-conscious at the locale but as she looked at the man sitting across from her, she couldn’t see Max Evans. To her, in that moment, he was just Max. She liked it that way.

“I can.”

She made a face at him, not quite sure how to take that, while another part of her jumped for joy at the intensity of his gaze and the honesty in his words.

“How did you get here so fast?”

He smiled slightly and leaned forward onto the small table diving them and Liz felt the breath hitch in the back of her throat. It had started to rain slightly as they’d left the station and his hair was damp, beginning to curl around his ears and eyebrows. His skin was the eternal tan of LA and his eyes glowed with warmth as he looked at her.

For the first time – possibly ever – Liz could appreciate that. She could accept that for what it was.

“I was at the London Film and Comic Con.”

And there he was: Max Evans, the superstar. It annoyed her sometimes, how easily she forgot who and what he was. And it annoyed her when she did remember who and what he was. She rolled her eyes internally. There was no winning in this situation.

“Oh,” she managed and looked down to the laminated, single page menu before her, even though she knew what she was ordering. She skimmed over the list, wondering if she should translate some of the items on it for him when she felt the pressure of his fingers over hers. She looked up and saw some of the previous sadness creeping back in around his eyes and she wished it away. “Max?”

He smiled tightly and pried the menu from her death grip, motioning to the waitress that was standing beside their table. She blushed slightly and looked to the server, smiling in apology.

“Un chocolat chaud, un crepe de chocolat et...” she looked to Max. “Un cafe.”

The waitress nodded.

“Au lait?”

Liz shook her head for him and the waitress tapped the end of her pen off her pad before turning and wandering off. Liz followed her with her eyes but the woman didn’t glance back over her shoulder; if she recognised Max, she didn’t let on. Liz was glad.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Max said, repeating her earlier words back at her. She looked up to him, ready to feel anger at his words but when she saw the look of genuine awe on his features, the kindling flames receded. “You look good, Liz.”

She ducked her head but couldn’t help the smile that crept over her lips.

“Thanks.” She smiled up at him and he grinned back at her, his amber eyes flickering as he watched her. Something clawed at her insides; how could she have ever doubted him? “I’m sorry.”

She watched the transformation with her own amazement; she watched as his eyes lost their warmth, as his lips set into a firm line and after a few seconds, he dropped her gaze.

“For what?” He asked her and Liz frowned, even though he couldn’t see her. Was he... letting her away with it? “Which part, Liz? Where you ran half way around the world? Or for the fact that you haven’t taken any of my calls for the last year?”

She had always expected his anger but after the way he had greeted her, she had somehow forgotten that he had a right to be angry with her.

“All of it.” He lifted his eyes to hers then and pinned her with a steely glare. “But Max... I was going through a bad time-“

“Don’t you think I know that, Liz?” he didn’t give her a chance to respond. “For the last year, all I’ve thought about is how you must be struggling, wherever you are, alone. All I’ve thought about is that last night, wondering if I pushed you too far. I didn’t mean to scare you-“

“You didn’t scare me, Max.”

“Are you sure?” She frowned at him again. “Because the way you reacted to those photos-“ Liz winced at the mention of those photos, “it seemed as though you were just looking for an excuse to leave.”

“That’s not it at all, Max, and you know it!”

He slapped his open palm onto the table, jarring the salt and pepper shakers there.

“That’s just it, Liz. I don’t know anything! I don’t even think you really know why you left. Maria certainly doesn’t think you know.”

Liz felt those words like a slap to her face.

“Since when are you and Maria best friends?”

Max scoffed.

“Since you fucked off around the world and left her without so much as a second glance. When was the last time you actually spoke to Maria, Liz? Do you even know what’s going on in her life?”

Liz returned his scoff with one of her own.

“Of course I do.”

“What’s the biggest thing that happened to her recently?” Liz really wanted to be able to throw her knowledge back in his face but when she tried to think... she came up empty. She sought through their last conversations (all emails, only a few lines each) and then closed her eyes and shook her head. “How about the fact that she and Michael are engaged?”

“What?” She shook her head. “No they’re not.”

“Yes,” Max hissed. “They are. And they have been for three months.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Max sat back in his seat and Liz could feel the weight of his stare on her face. She daren’t look up, afraid of what she might see if she did.

“Are you not liking what you see when someone holds a mirror up to you?”

“You’re attacking me.”

Max shook his head.

“No. I’m telling you how it is. You’re just being defensive.”

Liz didn’t have anything to say to that. She sunk down into her seat, fighting the urge to stand and leave him sitting there, alone in the cafe. It was her ability to run away from things that had gotten them in this situation in the first place. The waitress came up then and silently set the items on her tray down before scampering off. Liz watched from the corner of her eye as Max reached out for his coffee, his long fingers wrapping around the white ceramic. She bit her lip, suddenly feeling the well of tears at the back of her eyes. Why hadn’t Maria told her she was engaged? Why hadn’t she taken a bigger interest? Maria and Max, friends? She knew Maria had said they’d talked about stuff but... She shook her head. It seemed a lot had changed since she left.

“Why are you here, Max?” She asked eventually, over the rim of her cup of liquid heaven.

He heaved a sigh and set his cup down.

“I thought I knew.”

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat at his words.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I would come here and sweep you off your feet.”

She snorted lightly at that but Max didn’t react. She had to fight with her hands to stop them from reaching out to touch his skin.

“And now?” She asked when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to continue.

She watched as his tongue swept over his bottom lip, as he fiddled with the handle of the cup before lifting his eyes to meet hers. She let out a hiss of breath when his eyes locked onto hers and she was sure her heart stopped beating for a good few seconds before restarting in double time.

“I’m not sure that person exists anymore, if she ever did at all.”

And just like that, the last eight years of her life came crashing down around her.

2006 – The morning after Liz’s parents’ funeral

“Liz?” Max whispered, some hours after he’d helped clean up her back and patch up the scrapes on her arms. She murmured quietly and buried her face further into the pillow effectively obscuring her features from his gaze. “Liz, I have something for you,” he said again, tracing his finger down her spine. She shivered and goose bumps pebbled her back.

When she didn’t respond, Max glanced at the clock. He didn’t have long before he had to leave to catch his plane back to LA and he hated the thought of leaving her. Even more, he hated the thought of leaving her without giving – or at least asking her to take – what it was he had bought for her. He sighed and rolled onto his back, thrusting one hand into his hair while he bent his other arm at the elbow so he could stroke the skin on her back.

They never had enough time, these days. And it killed him a little more each time that he left. He’d asked her, once, to come with him and she’d simply smiled and shook her head before she told him that it was a bad idea. He couldn’t get his head around her logic. But then, when it came to Liz Parker, Max was clueless. He always had been. Michael had accused him of being one-track minded when it came to her but no one – not even him – could understand the complexities of the ties he had with Liz.

When it had started, all those years ago on the very same balcony he had just taken her on hours before, he’d thought that maybe it would be a one, or two, time thing. Little did he know that five years later he’d be lying in her bed trying to convince them her that he loved her. If he’d known then, when he’d approached her in the gym hall, that it would turn out like this... Well, he may have done a few things differently.

Not many. But a few.

For instance, he would have given them a label. A big, fat label in permanent neon marker that attached itself to their backs and let everyone know he belonged to her and that she belonged to him. It was... essentially a caveman instinct but he just didn’t care.

He remembered when he first spoke to her after The Interview with Diana Lane and she’d been so hesitant, so withdrawn from him that it took all of his charm to convince her to let him even cuddle her, let alone anything else. It had taken him until he was halfway back to LA to realise she didn’t think he’d been talking about her. His not-quite twenty year old mind had been more relieved than disturbed by that but thinking back on it now, he wondered if maybe he should have said something to her then, rather than letting it blow over.

He groaned slightly and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He smirked at the Pirates of the Caribbean door poster he came face to face with. He remembered when she first put it up, asking him dryly to sign her poster of Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow. He didn’t think she actually expected him to and she’d turn a bright, beet red when he’d grabbed a Sharpie and scrawled words of ‘ardour’ to his ‘wench’. He rather enjoyed the fact she still hadn’t taken it down.

“How long until you leave?”

He turned sharply at the sound of her voice and saw her sitting up in bed, her tear stained face red and blotchy, her hair a riotous mess of knots and sweaty curls. He smiled at her rawness and reached out to stroke a gentle finger down the overheated skin. She was beautiful, even in her pain.

“Not long enough,” he whispered as he crawled the few inches over to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Are you going to be all right?” He asked quietly as he felt her shudder in his arms.

She shrugged and sniffled and the sound tore Max’s already battered heart to shreds.

“I have to be, right?” She asked thickly and Max drew back from her slightly so he could look at her face. The sight made his chest tighten and he flinched slightly from the sharp ache.

“You don’t have to be anything, Liz. Just... be what you are.” She dropped her forehead to his bare chest and tried to fight back to sobs. “If you’re sad, be sad.”

“I want to come with you,” she whispered, and nuzzled into his chest again and Max fought back the hope those words bloomed in his chest.

“You can.”

She shook her head and pulled out of his arms, running her hands through her hair, wincing as she caught some of the tugs.

“You know I can’t.”

He too shrunk back slightly, shifting so he could lean against the headboard. There was a few inches of space between them and Max felt like the void was much wider. He missed the days when it was a single bed they had shared in her room in Roswell but he couldn’t deny that the double was a worthy investment.

“Why not?” He asked eventually when she didn’t move or say anything else.

She heaved a sigh and shook her head.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“And I still don’t understand.” He moved towards her then, grasping her arm and urging her to face him. “Why can’t you come back with me?”

She turned to him and glared but it was half hearted at best. Her lips quivered and Max pulled her to him again, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a move he hoped was at least somewhat comforting.

“I... we’ve never been...” She sniffled again, gulping in large breaths of air as though the oxygen in the air was running out. “We’ve never been a couple, Max.” He went to say something but she pulled back and silenced him with a finger to his mouth. He glared at her. What was this that they had been doing, then? “I...” She trailed off and shook her head sadly. “I can’t talk about this now, Max.”

And because her parents had just been buried, Max let it go. Just like he always did. He pulled away from her then and rose from the bed, grabbing his discarded clothes as he went. He grabbed a towel from the drawer and paused at the door. He closed his eyes and dropped his head against the door instead of opening it. There was a part of him that understood her reasoning; his life was catalogued by pictures and articles in newspapers and magazines. A part of him wanted to shield her from that but there was another, larger part of him that wanted to parade her around with him and show her off to the world. He wanted the world to know that they were together.

Liz didn’t and that... Hurt.

He didn’t want to leave while he was angry at her. He’d did that far too many times; it seemed with Liz that the happy times were few and far between these days. He was always angry, hurt or confused and he hated it. It was tainting the time that they got to share with one another. What got him the most was that she still saw other people. He didn’t know how far she went with them and he didn’t want to ask; didn’t want to acknowledge that these other people existed. Greg, for instance. Liz never hid that she had dated (no matter how... briefly) the guy but Max’s hackles still rose whenever he saw them together.

The first time Max had wrecked his apartment because of Liz’s... ‘dates’ Michael had told him to cut the chords. And he’d tried. Oh how he’d tried but then she’d called him up and told him her parents were in a car crash and none of it mattered any more. There was just Liz and he went because... because that’s what he did.

“If...” he began but trailed off, shaking his head. “There’s something in my bag I want to give you. Maybe not today but one day.”

“What is it?” She asked to his back but Max didn’t respond. He didn’t know how. Eventually, he turned around, leaning his back heavily against the hardwood door and stared at her. She was still naked, the sheet up around her chest as she rested on her knees. Her hair was less wild but still a mess, her skin flushed from the heat of the bed. He shifted. “Max?” She questioned quietly, shuffling about on the bed.

He licked his lips.

“If I told you I loved you...” he trailed off when she gasped. “Would you believe me?” She frowned at the question but wouldn’t meet his eyes. He smirked and laughed mirthlessly. “I want to marry you, Liz. That’s what’s in the bag.”

He opened the door with a snap and stepped out of the room before she could respond.