Part Two
"Oh, my God!" Maria shrieked. "What are you doing?!"
Max withdrew, his eyes confused. "I'm sorry. Did I cramp you or something?"
Maria looked at him incredulously. "What were you doing?"
He looked down at his hands, curious if they had strayed into forbidden territory. Nope - one was on her shoulder, the other on her hip. "Kissing you," he said, his voice tentative.
"Why would you do that?"
He gave a light, nervous laugh. "Because I love you?"
Maria struggled to sit up, glanced around her surroundings. They were in Max's bedroom, lying on his bed - his old bed, in the Evans house. But Max hadn't lived there in months. Her mind reeling, she put a hand to her forehead and shook her head. She'd been at Michael's, then somehow in the Crashdown, and now she was making out with Max on his bed.
Maria felt a hand on her shoulder, felt the bed move as Max sat up. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.
No, she wasn't okay. She'd gone insane - plain and simple. She was sure in some way it was Michael's fault.
Quickly, she turned to look at Max. "Who am I?" she asked.
He blinked, his brow furrowed. "Maria Deluca."
Okay, so she was still who she thought she was. "What year is it?"
He bit the corner of his mouth. "Um, it's still 2002. April, to be exact."
April. That didn't make sense. Somehow she was a month in the past. "Was I shot?"
Max let out a snort, put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"Answer me," she demanded, watched Max recoil a bit.
He cleared his throat. "Maria, you know you were shot. Two and a half years ago in the Crashdown."
Maria got up from the bed and started to pace. "What about Liz?"
Max was looking no less confused. "Liz?"
"Liz Parker," Maria snapped impatiently.
He shrugged. "What about her?"
"Was she shot?"
He sat silently for a moment, then shook his head. "No. You know she was there when you were shot, but she didn't get hit." He scratched his face uncomfortably.
Maria stopped pacing, stared directly at Max without really seeing him - her mind was concentrating on putting together puzzle pieces rather than gazing fondly at her best friend's boyfriend. She'd been shot; Liz hadn't. Somehow Maria had taken that bullet in the stomach, somehow the past has been altered.
And now she was in Max Evans' bedroom. Was Max cheating on Liz with her? She didn't think he had it in him. Then her gaze drifted past Max's broad shoulder and landed on a picture on Max's night stand. It was a picture from a dance, staged and photographed by a professional, perhaps from a prom.
It was a picture of Maria and Max smiling, arms around one another.
A little gush of air rushed out of Maria's lungs and she felt her stomach lurch. Involuntarily, she wavered on her feet and Max jumped up to steady her. There was such concern in his eyes that Maria felt her stomach jump again.
"Hey," he said softly against her ear. "It's okay. Here, sit." He eased her into his desk chair, then squatted before her, wiped her hair out of her eyes. At any other time, she may have found this gesture heartwarming, but at this moment it was freaking her to no end. "You okay? You want me to take you home?"
She nodded vigorously. Yes, home. Then maybe she would go to bed and wake up and the nightmare would be over.
Max moved around his room, handed her a coat she didn't recognize, grabbed his own coat and led her out into the hallway. Isabel passed them, tossed her long blond locks over one shoulder and barely acknowledged their presence. Maria watched Isabel retreat to her own room and felt her heart start to slam into her ribs - why didn't Isabel act surprised to see Maria coming out of her brother's bedroom?
Outside, Maria had another surprise. Max opened up the jeep door for her. The jeep.
"When did you get a new jeep?" she asked him, refusing to get inside.
Max's brow furrowed again. "This is the same jeep I've always had, Maria."
She forced herself to get into the car, told herself that maybe she should stop talking. The confused look on Max's face was starting to worry her - at any minute he was going to have her committed. Things were definitely out of sorts, but if something surprised her, she needed to not put voice to it. Hone those acting skills, she told herself.
They drove in silence to her house. With a sigh of relief, she was happy to see that at least her home was the way she remembered it, minus a few details. Before the jeep rolled to a stop, she had her seatbelt unsnapped and was about to climb out of the seat when she realized that Max was looking at her strangely again.
Silently, he climbed out of the driver's seat and rounded the jeep to open her door for her. Max opened her doors for her? She swallowed, got out and was about to walk past him when he put a hand on her arm.
"Call me later," he told her, his voice soft, serious. "I'm worried about you."
Maria tried to paint on a smile. "I'll be okay. Too much Midol.or something." She gave a nervous, unconvincing giggle, then realized she should kiss him goodbye. He didn't settle for a quick peck on the lips - his goodbye kiss was intimate and passionate.
She smiled at him and moved away, into her house, refusing to turn around and catch his quizzical expression. With her back against the door, she waited until she heard the jeep pull away from the curb, then she raced back to her bedroom.
Her bed was the same, the curtains were the same, but something was missing. The room felt foreign to her, like someone else lived there. She needed something steady, something calming to bring her back to reality.
Liz. Liz was her one stronghold in life. Liz had always been there, would always be there. Maria ran to her nightstand, picked up the phone and quickly dialed the Crashdown number. She found out from Jose, the cook, that Liz wasn't working. Maria hung up and dialed the Parker's private number. Mr. Parker answered.
"Mr. Parker, thank God!" Maria spouted into the receiver. "Is Liz there?"
On the other end of the line, the man laughed lightly. "Not right now, Maria. She's out with Kyle."
Kyle?! Why was Liz out with Kyle? Maria felt tears start to well up in her eyes.
"But I can tell her you called," Mr. Parker said into the phone when Maria didn't respond.
"No, that's okay," Maria said, finding her voice again. "I'll just catch up with her later."
They said their goodbyes and Maria hung up the phone. Liz was with Kyle, Maria was with Max.
Michael.
Even though Michael was by far the least stable force in her life, Maria needed to find him. Maybe if she explained to him what happened, he could help her reverse it. Frantic, wiping her tears from her cheeks, she dug in her purse and found the keys to the Jetta. She raced outside, climbed behind the wheel and shoved the car into reverse.
It's like a poor man's version of "It's a Wonderful Life" she laughed hysterically to herself as she drove to the seedier side of Roswell, where Michael's apartment was. I made a wish to die or something and some angel is trying to show me that I'm better off alive. That's it, isn't it? I was moaning and complaining earlier that I wished Michael were more like Max and now I have Max and I don't want him. I'm being punished.
The sound of a car horn jerked Maria out of her inner monologue just in time to avoid being hit by an SUV. She cringed, apologized to the driver even though he couldn't hear her and looked for Michael's street.
In front of the apartment building, she jerked the car to a stop in the parking space Michael's bike usually occupied. The bike wasn't there, but that didn't mean hadn't parked it on the patio like he did sometimes. On the other hand, maybe he wasn't home. Maria rummaged in her purse, looking for the key he had given her. She couldn't find it, so she'd have to resort to knocking or using a credit card to flip the lock.
Knees shaking slightly, she went to the door and drew in a deep breath. Please be here, Michael, she prayed silently. For once, be here when I need you. Raising her small hand, she knocked on the cheap wood of the hallway door.
A few moments passed, then Maria heard footsteps coming from behind the door. She stood bouncing nervously, waiting impatiently while she heard someone fumbling with the inside lock. That was unusual because Michael never used the chain lock. The door opened and Maria stood looking into the face of a middle-aged woman.
"Yeah?" the woman said, her voice coming out tired and full of cigarette smoke.
"Is Michael here?" Maria asked, her voice cracking for fear of the answer she was going to get.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Michael who?"
"Michael Guerin." Maria's hope was waning.
The woman looked at her suspiciously. "No one here by that name."
She started to close the door but Maria stopped her. "Wait! Did he just move out or something? Did he live here before you?"
The woman eyed her up and down and closed the door partially. "I've lived here for ten years. I don't know you and I don't know this Michael guy." And with that she slammed the door in Maria's face.
Alone, stranded in what should have been Michael's hallway, Maria started to tremble. Behind her, she heard another door open and turned to see an elderly man peering out curiously. He looked alarmed, like he was about to call the police, so Maria retreated to her car.
She drove home, deflated, and crawled fully clothed into her bed. Please, she prayed as she closed her eyes so she couldn't see the matching prom picture on her nightstand and tried to force herself to go to sleep. Please let me wake up in the morning and this all be a dream.
"Oh, my God!" Maria shrieked. "What are you doing?!"
Max withdrew, his eyes confused. "I'm sorry. Did I cramp you or something?"
Maria looked at him incredulously. "What were you doing?"
He looked down at his hands, curious if they had strayed into forbidden territory. Nope - one was on her shoulder, the other on her hip. "Kissing you," he said, his voice tentative.
"Why would you do that?"
He gave a light, nervous laugh. "Because I love you?"
Maria struggled to sit up, glanced around her surroundings. They were in Max's bedroom, lying on his bed - his old bed, in the Evans house. But Max hadn't lived there in months. Her mind reeling, she put a hand to her forehead and shook her head. She'd been at Michael's, then somehow in the Crashdown, and now she was making out with Max on his bed.
Maria felt a hand on her shoulder, felt the bed move as Max sat up. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.
No, she wasn't okay. She'd gone insane - plain and simple. She was sure in some way it was Michael's fault.
Quickly, she turned to look at Max. "Who am I?" she asked.
He blinked, his brow furrowed. "Maria Deluca."
Okay, so she was still who she thought she was. "What year is it?"
He bit the corner of his mouth. "Um, it's still 2002. April, to be exact."
April. That didn't make sense. Somehow she was a month in the past. "Was I shot?"
Max let out a snort, put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"
"Answer me," she demanded, watched Max recoil a bit.
He cleared his throat. "Maria, you know you were shot. Two and a half years ago in the Crashdown."
Maria got up from the bed and started to pace. "What about Liz?"
Max was looking no less confused. "Liz?"
"Liz Parker," Maria snapped impatiently.
He shrugged. "What about her?"
"Was she shot?"
He sat silently for a moment, then shook his head. "No. You know she was there when you were shot, but she didn't get hit." He scratched his face uncomfortably.
Maria stopped pacing, stared directly at Max without really seeing him - her mind was concentrating on putting together puzzle pieces rather than gazing fondly at her best friend's boyfriend. She'd been shot; Liz hadn't. Somehow Maria had taken that bullet in the stomach, somehow the past has been altered.
And now she was in Max Evans' bedroom. Was Max cheating on Liz with her? She didn't think he had it in him. Then her gaze drifted past Max's broad shoulder and landed on a picture on Max's night stand. It was a picture from a dance, staged and photographed by a professional, perhaps from a prom.
It was a picture of Maria and Max smiling, arms around one another.
A little gush of air rushed out of Maria's lungs and she felt her stomach lurch. Involuntarily, she wavered on her feet and Max jumped up to steady her. There was such concern in his eyes that Maria felt her stomach jump again.
"Hey," he said softly against her ear. "It's okay. Here, sit." He eased her into his desk chair, then squatted before her, wiped her hair out of her eyes. At any other time, she may have found this gesture heartwarming, but at this moment it was freaking her to no end. "You okay? You want me to take you home?"
She nodded vigorously. Yes, home. Then maybe she would go to bed and wake up and the nightmare would be over.
Max moved around his room, handed her a coat she didn't recognize, grabbed his own coat and led her out into the hallway. Isabel passed them, tossed her long blond locks over one shoulder and barely acknowledged their presence. Maria watched Isabel retreat to her own room and felt her heart start to slam into her ribs - why didn't Isabel act surprised to see Maria coming out of her brother's bedroom?
Outside, Maria had another surprise. Max opened up the jeep door for her. The jeep.
"When did you get a new jeep?" she asked him, refusing to get inside.
Max's brow furrowed again. "This is the same jeep I've always had, Maria."
She forced herself to get into the car, told herself that maybe she should stop talking. The confused look on Max's face was starting to worry her - at any minute he was going to have her committed. Things were definitely out of sorts, but if something surprised her, she needed to not put voice to it. Hone those acting skills, she told herself.
They drove in silence to her house. With a sigh of relief, she was happy to see that at least her home was the way she remembered it, minus a few details. Before the jeep rolled to a stop, she had her seatbelt unsnapped and was about to climb out of the seat when she realized that Max was looking at her strangely again.
Silently, he climbed out of the driver's seat and rounded the jeep to open her door for her. Max opened her doors for her? She swallowed, got out and was about to walk past him when he put a hand on her arm.
"Call me later," he told her, his voice soft, serious. "I'm worried about you."
Maria tried to paint on a smile. "I'll be okay. Too much Midol.or something." She gave a nervous, unconvincing giggle, then realized she should kiss him goodbye. He didn't settle for a quick peck on the lips - his goodbye kiss was intimate and passionate.
She smiled at him and moved away, into her house, refusing to turn around and catch his quizzical expression. With her back against the door, she waited until she heard the jeep pull away from the curb, then she raced back to her bedroom.
Her bed was the same, the curtains were the same, but something was missing. The room felt foreign to her, like someone else lived there. She needed something steady, something calming to bring her back to reality.
Liz. Liz was her one stronghold in life. Liz had always been there, would always be there. Maria ran to her nightstand, picked up the phone and quickly dialed the Crashdown number. She found out from Jose, the cook, that Liz wasn't working. Maria hung up and dialed the Parker's private number. Mr. Parker answered.
"Mr. Parker, thank God!" Maria spouted into the receiver. "Is Liz there?"
On the other end of the line, the man laughed lightly. "Not right now, Maria. She's out with Kyle."
Kyle?! Why was Liz out with Kyle? Maria felt tears start to well up in her eyes.
"But I can tell her you called," Mr. Parker said into the phone when Maria didn't respond.
"No, that's okay," Maria said, finding her voice again. "I'll just catch up with her later."
They said their goodbyes and Maria hung up the phone. Liz was with Kyle, Maria was with Max.
Michael.
Even though Michael was by far the least stable force in her life, Maria needed to find him. Maybe if she explained to him what happened, he could help her reverse it. Frantic, wiping her tears from her cheeks, she dug in her purse and found the keys to the Jetta. She raced outside, climbed behind the wheel and shoved the car into reverse.
It's like a poor man's version of "It's a Wonderful Life" she laughed hysterically to herself as she drove to the seedier side of Roswell, where Michael's apartment was. I made a wish to die or something and some angel is trying to show me that I'm better off alive. That's it, isn't it? I was moaning and complaining earlier that I wished Michael were more like Max and now I have Max and I don't want him. I'm being punished.
The sound of a car horn jerked Maria out of her inner monologue just in time to avoid being hit by an SUV. She cringed, apologized to the driver even though he couldn't hear her and looked for Michael's street.
In front of the apartment building, she jerked the car to a stop in the parking space Michael's bike usually occupied. The bike wasn't there, but that didn't mean hadn't parked it on the patio like he did sometimes. On the other hand, maybe he wasn't home. Maria rummaged in her purse, looking for the key he had given her. She couldn't find it, so she'd have to resort to knocking or using a credit card to flip the lock.
Knees shaking slightly, she went to the door and drew in a deep breath. Please be here, Michael, she prayed silently. For once, be here when I need you. Raising her small hand, she knocked on the cheap wood of the hallway door.
A few moments passed, then Maria heard footsteps coming from behind the door. She stood bouncing nervously, waiting impatiently while she heard someone fumbling with the inside lock. That was unusual because Michael never used the chain lock. The door opened and Maria stood looking into the face of a middle-aged woman.
"Yeah?" the woman said, her voice coming out tired and full of cigarette smoke.
"Is Michael here?" Maria asked, her voice cracking for fear of the answer she was going to get.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Michael who?"
"Michael Guerin." Maria's hope was waning.
The woman looked at her suspiciously. "No one here by that name."
She started to close the door but Maria stopped her. "Wait! Did he just move out or something? Did he live here before you?"
The woman eyed her up and down and closed the door partially. "I've lived here for ten years. I don't know you and I don't know this Michael guy." And with that she slammed the door in Maria's face.
Alone, stranded in what should have been Michael's hallway, Maria started to tremble. Behind her, she heard another door open and turned to see an elderly man peering out curiously. He looked alarmed, like he was about to call the police, so Maria retreated to her car.
She drove home, deflated, and crawled fully clothed into her bed. Please, she prayed as she closed her eyes so she couldn't see the matching prom picture on her nightstand and tried to force herself to go to sleep. Please let me wake up in the morning and this all be a dream.