[b]- Part Two -[/b]
Maria Deluca stared at the familiar booth in the corner and sighed. Alex was swinging continually on the bar stool next to her, chattering non-stop above the dim buzz of slow business that went on around them about some facetious story that transpired in his English class. He had immediately launched into a number of anecdotes that had occurred recently after seeing the glum look etched upon Maria's features, claiming they needed something to talk about that veered carefully away from "Czechoslovakian matters." What came out of his mouth had been the same type of long-winded tales that Maria and Liz often suspected he stored for times like these.
Times like these. God, she sounded like she was in the middle of an energy crisis or something. Yet things were supremely frustrating as of now, almost more frustrating than if she was without the use of a blow dryer.
As usual, the source of her frustrations all came back to one particular person.
Michael had walked into the Crashdown without so much of a glance towards her, blatantly ignoring her, per usual, and metaphorically stabbing her in the gut. [I]Unbelievable.[/I] Or it would have been considered as such for anyone other than Michael Guerin.
After that little snub (though she often wondered why she ever thought she would get anything else these days), she had listened distractedly to Alex's prior story, half of her attention on her friend and the other half focused discreetly on Michael. When the punch line to Alex's recount came, Maria had dissolved into loud giggles, her narrowed green eyes zeroing in on a certain Czech.
[I]Ha. Take [b]that![/b] See me laughing, having a good time? I don't [/I]need [i] you,[/I] She had smugly thought that at the time, awaiting his reaction.
Except that there had been none. No effect whatsoever. Not even an eye roll.
Which left her consciously ignoring Alex, and perusing Michael's every move as he animatedly argued with Max and Isabel. Oh, her attention had been distracted when Liz had walked up to take their order, and when her friend promptly dragged Max into the back, - the angry expression on Lizzie's face had been enough to peak her concern - but her concentration gradually wavered back to Michael, her bafflement increased tenfold after that little scene.
She simply just could not figure Michael out. One minute he was selflessly helping her and her mother out, and the next he was spouting nonsense about "mud" when she kissed him in thanks.
Mud. Honestly! What in the name of pantyhose had he been mumbling about? Did the kiss [I]taste[/I] like mud to him? Was it some weird alien flavor obsession, something similar to Tabasco? Only that in this case, mud signified disgust, rather than satisfaction? [I]What?[/I]
Argh, what was it about him that made all sort of rational thinking fly out towards a galaxy far, far away?
But right now Maria was beyond any type of rational thinking. Her mind was whirling with the different possibilities in getting Michael to come out from behind his newest creation of a steely stonewall, and so far none of her ideas seemed plausible. But to hell with plausible. Plausible sucked. So what if she just [I]happened[/I] to stalk up to Michael and give him a good shake? If she simply [I]happened[/I] to smack some sense quite literally into the back of his spiky head? If she just suddenly [I]happened[/I] to throw back her head and howl, "Kiss me you big, stupid Michael beast you," and then if she.
"And then! Then, he slips on the very same chalk!" Alex burst out laughing, unable to contain himself until the climax of the story before doing so. "Right in the middle of his lecture! One minute he's babbling on about some book we were supposed to read and then.down he goes! It was great!"
Effectively startled out of her reverie, Maria could only stare at her friend blankly, who was slapping his thighs loudly, until he realized she wasn't chuckling along with him.
"I guess you had to be there," Maria vaguely heard Alex mutter underneath his breath, her mind still elsewhere.
"Maria? You okay?" Alex's wide, clear blue eyes searched her face, probing gently.
Before she could make up an answer to appease Alex, the front door to the Crashdown chimed, and Kyle Valenti strode through. His eyes swept across the diner for an instant, and after that slight hesitation, he seated himself down at a nearby table. Alone.
Grateful for the distraction, Maria pushed herself up from the stool in one smooth motion, and stretched her muscles out before starting over to him. Alex caught her arm. "Hey," he said. "What are you doing? You're on break, remember?"
Maria shook her head and pursed her lips. "Liz disappeared into the back just now with Max. And by the upset expression on her face, I'm guessing they'll be there a while. I should probably cover for her."
Alex seemed to buy her explanation, albeit not entirely, as his eyes still searched her face. "Yea. You probably should," he answered slowly. After a pause, he nodded towards Kyle. "What's up with Valenti? Usually when he comes in here he's surrounded by his usual jock buddies. He's not in here to snoop around some more, is he?"
Maria plopped back down onto her stool for a minute and pondered this. "I don't think so. I mean, my God, if he's not over Liz by now." She ended on a teasing note.
Alex nodded, accepting her answer, but his brow still wrinkled uncertainly.
"What?" She implored.
Alex rubbed his eyes broodingly. "I don't know. It's just, what with his dad always on our butts, is it a possibility that Kyle could be doing a little digging of his own?"
"What? No, of course not!" Maria immediately scoffed, ignoring the butterfly of fear fluttering in her stomach at the very thought. Her eyes darted towards Michael and Isabel's booth - the two of which who were picking listlessly at their cold space fries - and she bit her lip nervously.
A million worst-case scenarios rolled around in her mind, all the 'what- ifs' threatening to drown out all comprehensible thought. The Sheriff wouldn't stoop as far low as using his own [I]son[/I] - would he? Maria was beginning to realize she didn't know much about what had transpired between the man in question and the pod squad lately - and for the first time it bothered her.
She blinked hard, trying to clear her mind. What was happening to her and her Teflon steel resolve to live and let live? To removing herself from the sucking pull of the alien abyss?
Tumultuous emotions rose within her breast, her gaze still piercing Michael.
Alex's voice cut through her thoughts for the second time that day. "Maria? You sure you're all right?"
With one last longing look, she swiveled her body back towards Kyle and sighed. "Yeah Alex. Just fine."
* * * *
Liz Parker flinched slightly as Max's arm whispered slightly against her own. Damn him. Damn him to hell for always affecting her this way. Especially now, when she was positively seething with anger, and needing to let out that pent up frustration. He deserved everything she was fueling up to give him. But if the merest sensation caused her mind to wander and her anger to fade -
No. She would ignore it. All of it. Because honestly, it looked like Max was having no trouble whatsoever in that particular department.
She jerked away from him, and slammed the swinging door open even wider, providing the necessary room for both to walk through without any superfluous contact. Max jumped faintly at the vibrating sound of the door connecting with the plaster wall, and for once Liz reveled in the fact that she was acting so out of character - or enough to shock Max a little anyways. She doubled checked to make sure no one was in the kitchen area, and stalked inside to stand beside a counter top, where a tray of un- chopped onions lay adjacent to a knife. Excess energy tumbled through her veins, and it was all she could do to refrain from pacing.
Why did he always do this? Shut her out, blow her off. He claimed once to be scared of hurting [I]her[/I], and at the time, Liz had been touched.
Now though? Now she was simply pissed off.
This entire [I]thing[/I] had been building. Swirling inside her now for weeks. Ever since Max showed up the night after Kyle had hurt his ankle at the game trying to tell her how to go about her life, and when he had taken off for Fraser Woods on the campout, his goal being the sighting, deeming not to say one [I]word[/I] to her about it. It stung; hurt almost as much as his walking away from her that night after Michael's sweat. The fact that he tried to take everything upon himself, or that he didn't feel that he could confide in her anymore.or even the fact that he was beginning to treat her like any other person in this town. As if she were merely his lab partner and not -
And not what? What exactly [I]was[/I] she to Max anyway?
Liz pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for her to speculate the confines of Max's heart. For she was certain to become lost upon the way.
Because one thing was for sure, she [I]was[/I] part of this "Czechoslovakian mess," as Maria would call it. She wanted the greatly debated answers as much as the rest of them did. She was an equal damn it, and it was high time Max remembered that.
She looked at him now, cursing her heart for skipping a beat, yet at the same time somehow expecting it. His jaw was set obstinately, but his liquid color eyes were a bit apprehensive as he met her gaze. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets, his form compliant. For some reason, that only irritated her more, most likely being that he looked quite like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, and she subsequently then took on the role of the scolding owner.
And also because, quite suddenly, Liz didn't know how to begin.
After a stretch of silence, and some uncomfortable shifting, Max opened his mouth. "Look, Liz, I know what you're probably thinking."
Narrowing her brown hued gaze, Liz cut him off. "Really Max? Are you sure about that? Because if you [I]knew[/I] what's running through my mind, then we probably wouldn't be here, would we?" She meant more than being back here in the kitchen having this talk. For if Max truly knew her thoughts, then he would know this entire "taking a step back" method was stinging her. While she wanted to support Max, and respect his decisions, she simply couldn't, not when they were resulting in this way.
"Is this the way it's always going to be from now on?" She asked. "I just hear about things second hand, if at all? Or I am just out of the loop for good now?"
Max's features wavered with compunction. "Liz, that's not."
Tendrils of ebony swayed on her back as she shook her head. "No, Max, that's [I]exactly[/I] what you've been doing. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that you [I]made[/I] me a part of this! In doing so don't you think I deserve to know what's going on?" When he made no comment, Liz exhaled a gale of aggravated air and turned to pick up the knife on the counter. She began haphazardly hacking at the onions before her, ignoring Max's flinch at her sudden attack upon the poor vegetables, and throwing her excess energy into a task more constructive than pacing or wringing her hands.
"And not just because it could affect [I]me[/I], Max," Liz continued, her voice raised an octave higher as to be heard over the dull sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Max move slightly toward her. "I want to know if anything's happened to [I]you[/I] too. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean that I wouldn't [I]care[/I]." She paused, gnawing on her lip, and then went ahead. "And honestly Max? It hurts when I have to find out stuff only by walking into one of your conversations."
"I know," he answered softly, a myriad of emotions tied up into two words. He sounded sincere. But Liz had to wonder, was that the same as realizing and not doing it again?
He hesitated, concern written all over his face. "Liz, be careful."
His admonition came too late. Liz let out a short, albeit loud, yelp of pain as the sharp steely blade sliced open the skin on her left hand, expelling crimson blood. The rich color contrasted strongly against the opaque pearly color of the onion, making Liz feel somewhat ill.
Her eyes fluttered automatically closed due to the searing pain, and so she felt, rather than saw, Max close the gap between them instantly. His warm hands enclosed around her wrist, and she allowed him to cradle her arm. His tender gaze closely inspected the damage, and after a minute he raised his eyes to hers. The raw, concerned anxiety she found there was enough to melt her anger instantaneously.
"It looks pretty deep," Max finally said as he brushed his fingers lightly over the wound, disregarding the blood that was still flowing out from it. He worked his throat uncertainly for a bit, but she was still completely unprepared for what he asked next.
"Will you let me heal it for you?"
Liz sucked in a silent gust of much needed oxygen. He was [I]asking[/I] if he could heal her. Asking if he could reenact the very deed that brought her more permanently into his life. For a second, Liz wavered, not entirely sure she wanted Max to be able to see [I]everything[/I] that was in her soul right now. All the thoughts and feelings she had for him, the bad and the good ([I]Though face it Liz,[/I] she thought wryly,[I]wherever Max is concerned, there's always more good than bad[/I]).did she really want them all presented to him in this way?
Yet Liz knew she would comply with his request. And not just because of the throbbing pain in her hand. No, because of the manner in which he asked, and the way that his eyes pleaded with her. Almost as if he were trying to make it up to her, to [I]tell[/I] her something - to make things right.
So it was without any initial surprise that she felt herself nodding her head softly, her gaze still locked with Max's. A look of utter relief crossed his features, replaced with one of concrete concentration as he spoke the familiar phrase of taking deep breaths and letting her mind blank out. But before doing so she couldn't help but flash back to a time, not so long ago, when Max had uttered those very same words to her, leading to an event that she often speculated led to her first falling for him. Just as fast as the memory flitted across her brain, she forced it to fade away, letting her mind become blissfully blank, relishing the moment where there were no threats from the Sheriff, no 'taking a step back,' no worries or fears about the uncertain future. In this moment it was just her and Max.
It wasn't until an upsurge of emotion washed over her that she realized [I]why[/I] he asked her of this in such a manner. [I]He was reversing the connection as he healed her.[/I] He was letting her see every part of him, just as he was more than likely seeing every part of her. Sentimental tears pricked at her vision, but she refused to let them fall, focusing intently on the potent connection that was unfurling between them.
Just as before, she could feel [I]everything[/I] he was feeling, but it was more of an impression this time, the emotions fueling together in a rush. Yet right at the top of the concoction was [I]yearning[/I], followed shortly after by an image of her own face. These flashes were rapidly replaced with mild irritation at Michael, and then fear and confliction. Suddenly Liz was viewing all the events that had transpired once Everett Hubble had taken Max out to Bitter Lake. The image of a gun pointing straight at her was preceded by a sense of trepidation so great that it clawed at her insides and caused her heart to race, though she [I] knew[/I] she was safe inside the Crashdown with Max beside her.
And then, all the flashes were of her, almost like a play-by-play movie screen was showing the past few weeks - months even. They were coupled with appropriating emotions to go with each image. Exasperation. Passion. Longing. Elation. Pain. Regret. And dare she hope.? Something resembling l-
As abruptly as it began, the connection began to dissipate. Her hand forgotten, Liz's eyes snapped open (when had she closed them?) and Max's expression filled her view. His mouth was open slightly, but it was his luring eyes and the emotion swirling within them that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Amber hues drew her in, surrounding her until she was saturated. And yet, all she wanted to do was inch closer despite the fact that he was only a breath away. "Max," she breathed. "Max."
A cloud slid across Max's expression, and his gaze became dark and unreadable. His head pulled back and he straightened, clearing his throat. Liz felt her heart drop. "You'll be all right now. Good as new." He smiled faintly, but his eyes remained the same, shadowy and incomprehensible.
"Max!" She exclaimed. Was he really going to do this? To ignore the connection, to just disregard all the tumultuous feelings she knew, she absolutely [I]knew[/I], he had felt too? Were things supposed to go back to normal now, as if none of this had happened? As if her very [I]soul[/I] wasn't crying out, longing to be intertwined with his own?
In the end, however, it was his decision. And his actions spoke volumes about just that. She couldn't [I]force[/I] him to see anymore than she could force herself to let go.
Liz languidly slid her hand out of Max's, instantly shivering with the loss of the warm contact. It was then that Liz recalled that things were far from normal, and would always be, no matter how hard they tried.
This recollection was only deepened further in her mind when Liz turned around and was met face to face with Kyle Valenti's dumbfounded expression.
To Be Continued.
Maria Deluca stared at the familiar booth in the corner and sighed. Alex was swinging continually on the bar stool next to her, chattering non-stop above the dim buzz of slow business that went on around them about some facetious story that transpired in his English class. He had immediately launched into a number of anecdotes that had occurred recently after seeing the glum look etched upon Maria's features, claiming they needed something to talk about that veered carefully away from "Czechoslovakian matters." What came out of his mouth had been the same type of long-winded tales that Maria and Liz often suspected he stored for times like these.
Times like these. God, she sounded like she was in the middle of an energy crisis or something. Yet things were supremely frustrating as of now, almost more frustrating than if she was without the use of a blow dryer.
As usual, the source of her frustrations all came back to one particular person.
Michael had walked into the Crashdown without so much of a glance towards her, blatantly ignoring her, per usual, and metaphorically stabbing her in the gut. [I]Unbelievable.[/I] Or it would have been considered as such for anyone other than Michael Guerin.
After that little snub (though she often wondered why she ever thought she would get anything else these days), she had listened distractedly to Alex's prior story, half of her attention on her friend and the other half focused discreetly on Michael. When the punch line to Alex's recount came, Maria had dissolved into loud giggles, her narrowed green eyes zeroing in on a certain Czech.
[I]Ha. Take [b]that![/b] See me laughing, having a good time? I don't [/I]need [i] you,[/I] She had smugly thought that at the time, awaiting his reaction.
Except that there had been none. No effect whatsoever. Not even an eye roll.
Which left her consciously ignoring Alex, and perusing Michael's every move as he animatedly argued with Max and Isabel. Oh, her attention had been distracted when Liz had walked up to take their order, and when her friend promptly dragged Max into the back, - the angry expression on Lizzie's face had been enough to peak her concern - but her concentration gradually wavered back to Michael, her bafflement increased tenfold after that little scene.
She simply just could not figure Michael out. One minute he was selflessly helping her and her mother out, and the next he was spouting nonsense about "mud" when she kissed him in thanks.
Mud. Honestly! What in the name of pantyhose had he been mumbling about? Did the kiss [I]taste[/I] like mud to him? Was it some weird alien flavor obsession, something similar to Tabasco? Only that in this case, mud signified disgust, rather than satisfaction? [I]What?[/I]
Argh, what was it about him that made all sort of rational thinking fly out towards a galaxy far, far away?
But right now Maria was beyond any type of rational thinking. Her mind was whirling with the different possibilities in getting Michael to come out from behind his newest creation of a steely stonewall, and so far none of her ideas seemed plausible. But to hell with plausible. Plausible sucked. So what if she just [I]happened[/I] to stalk up to Michael and give him a good shake? If she simply [I]happened[/I] to smack some sense quite literally into the back of his spiky head? If she just suddenly [I]happened[/I] to throw back her head and howl, "Kiss me you big, stupid Michael beast you," and then if she.
"And then! Then, he slips on the very same chalk!" Alex burst out laughing, unable to contain himself until the climax of the story before doing so. "Right in the middle of his lecture! One minute he's babbling on about some book we were supposed to read and then.down he goes! It was great!"
Effectively startled out of her reverie, Maria could only stare at her friend blankly, who was slapping his thighs loudly, until he realized she wasn't chuckling along with him.
"I guess you had to be there," Maria vaguely heard Alex mutter underneath his breath, her mind still elsewhere.
"Maria? You okay?" Alex's wide, clear blue eyes searched her face, probing gently.
Before she could make up an answer to appease Alex, the front door to the Crashdown chimed, and Kyle Valenti strode through. His eyes swept across the diner for an instant, and after that slight hesitation, he seated himself down at a nearby table. Alone.
Grateful for the distraction, Maria pushed herself up from the stool in one smooth motion, and stretched her muscles out before starting over to him. Alex caught her arm. "Hey," he said. "What are you doing? You're on break, remember?"
Maria shook her head and pursed her lips. "Liz disappeared into the back just now with Max. And by the upset expression on her face, I'm guessing they'll be there a while. I should probably cover for her."
Alex seemed to buy her explanation, albeit not entirely, as his eyes still searched her face. "Yea. You probably should," he answered slowly. After a pause, he nodded towards Kyle. "What's up with Valenti? Usually when he comes in here he's surrounded by his usual jock buddies. He's not in here to snoop around some more, is he?"
Maria plopped back down onto her stool for a minute and pondered this. "I don't think so. I mean, my God, if he's not over Liz by now." She ended on a teasing note.
Alex nodded, accepting her answer, but his brow still wrinkled uncertainly.
"What?" She implored.
Alex rubbed his eyes broodingly. "I don't know. It's just, what with his dad always on our butts, is it a possibility that Kyle could be doing a little digging of his own?"
"What? No, of course not!" Maria immediately scoffed, ignoring the butterfly of fear fluttering in her stomach at the very thought. Her eyes darted towards Michael and Isabel's booth - the two of which who were picking listlessly at their cold space fries - and she bit her lip nervously.
A million worst-case scenarios rolled around in her mind, all the 'what- ifs' threatening to drown out all comprehensible thought. The Sheriff wouldn't stoop as far low as using his own [I]son[/I] - would he? Maria was beginning to realize she didn't know much about what had transpired between the man in question and the pod squad lately - and for the first time it bothered her.
She blinked hard, trying to clear her mind. What was happening to her and her Teflon steel resolve to live and let live? To removing herself from the sucking pull of the alien abyss?
Tumultuous emotions rose within her breast, her gaze still piercing Michael.
Alex's voice cut through her thoughts for the second time that day. "Maria? You sure you're all right?"
With one last longing look, she swiveled her body back towards Kyle and sighed. "Yeah Alex. Just fine."
* * * *
Liz Parker flinched slightly as Max's arm whispered slightly against her own. Damn him. Damn him to hell for always affecting her this way. Especially now, when she was positively seething with anger, and needing to let out that pent up frustration. He deserved everything she was fueling up to give him. But if the merest sensation caused her mind to wander and her anger to fade -
No. She would ignore it. All of it. Because honestly, it looked like Max was having no trouble whatsoever in that particular department.
She jerked away from him, and slammed the swinging door open even wider, providing the necessary room for both to walk through without any superfluous contact. Max jumped faintly at the vibrating sound of the door connecting with the plaster wall, and for once Liz reveled in the fact that she was acting so out of character - or enough to shock Max a little anyways. She doubled checked to make sure no one was in the kitchen area, and stalked inside to stand beside a counter top, where a tray of un- chopped onions lay adjacent to a knife. Excess energy tumbled through her veins, and it was all she could do to refrain from pacing.
Why did he always do this? Shut her out, blow her off. He claimed once to be scared of hurting [I]her[/I], and at the time, Liz had been touched.
Now though? Now she was simply pissed off.
This entire [I]thing[/I] had been building. Swirling inside her now for weeks. Ever since Max showed up the night after Kyle had hurt his ankle at the game trying to tell her how to go about her life, and when he had taken off for Fraser Woods on the campout, his goal being the sighting, deeming not to say one [I]word[/I] to her about it. It stung; hurt almost as much as his walking away from her that night after Michael's sweat. The fact that he tried to take everything upon himself, or that he didn't feel that he could confide in her anymore.or even the fact that he was beginning to treat her like any other person in this town. As if she were merely his lab partner and not -
And not what? What exactly [I]was[/I] she to Max anyway?
Liz pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for her to speculate the confines of Max's heart. For she was certain to become lost upon the way.
Because one thing was for sure, she [I]was[/I] part of this "Czechoslovakian mess," as Maria would call it. She wanted the greatly debated answers as much as the rest of them did. She was an equal damn it, and it was high time Max remembered that.
She looked at him now, cursing her heart for skipping a beat, yet at the same time somehow expecting it. His jaw was set obstinately, but his liquid color eyes were a bit apprehensive as he met her gaze. His hands were shoved deep inside his pockets, his form compliant. For some reason, that only irritated her more, most likely being that he looked quite like a dog with it's tail between it's legs, and she subsequently then took on the role of the scolding owner.
And also because, quite suddenly, Liz didn't know how to begin.
After a stretch of silence, and some uncomfortable shifting, Max opened his mouth. "Look, Liz, I know what you're probably thinking."
Narrowing her brown hued gaze, Liz cut him off. "Really Max? Are you sure about that? Because if you [I]knew[/I] what's running through my mind, then we probably wouldn't be here, would we?" She meant more than being back here in the kitchen having this talk. For if Max truly knew her thoughts, then he would know this entire "taking a step back" method was stinging her. While she wanted to support Max, and respect his decisions, she simply couldn't, not when they were resulting in this way.
"Is this the way it's always going to be from now on?" She asked. "I just hear about things second hand, if at all? Or I am just out of the loop for good now?"
Max's features wavered with compunction. "Liz, that's not."
Tendrils of ebony swayed on her back as she shook her head. "No, Max, that's [I]exactly[/I] what you've been doing. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that you [I]made[/I] me a part of this! In doing so don't you think I deserve to know what's going on?" When he made no comment, Liz exhaled a gale of aggravated air and turned to pick up the knife on the counter. She began haphazardly hacking at the onions before her, ignoring Max's flinch at her sudden attack upon the poor vegetables, and throwing her excess energy into a task more constructive than pacing or wringing her hands.
"And not just because it could affect [I]me[/I], Max," Liz continued, her voice raised an octave higher as to be heard over the dull sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Max move slightly toward her. "I want to know if anything's happened to [I]you[/I] too. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean that I wouldn't [I]care[/I]." She paused, gnawing on her lip, and then went ahead. "And honestly Max? It hurts when I have to find out stuff only by walking into one of your conversations."
"I know," he answered softly, a myriad of emotions tied up into two words. He sounded sincere. But Liz had to wonder, was that the same as realizing and not doing it again?
He hesitated, concern written all over his face. "Liz, be careful."
His admonition came too late. Liz let out a short, albeit loud, yelp of pain as the sharp steely blade sliced open the skin on her left hand, expelling crimson blood. The rich color contrasted strongly against the opaque pearly color of the onion, making Liz feel somewhat ill.
Her eyes fluttered automatically closed due to the searing pain, and so she felt, rather than saw, Max close the gap between them instantly. His warm hands enclosed around her wrist, and she allowed him to cradle her arm. His tender gaze closely inspected the damage, and after a minute he raised his eyes to hers. The raw, concerned anxiety she found there was enough to melt her anger instantaneously.
"It looks pretty deep," Max finally said as he brushed his fingers lightly over the wound, disregarding the blood that was still flowing out from it. He worked his throat uncertainly for a bit, but she was still completely unprepared for what he asked next.
"Will you let me heal it for you?"
Liz sucked in a silent gust of much needed oxygen. He was [I]asking[/I] if he could heal her. Asking if he could reenact the very deed that brought her more permanently into his life. For a second, Liz wavered, not entirely sure she wanted Max to be able to see [I]everything[/I] that was in her soul right now. All the thoughts and feelings she had for him, the bad and the good ([I]Though face it Liz,[/I] she thought wryly,[I]wherever Max is concerned, there's always more good than bad[/I]).did she really want them all presented to him in this way?
Yet Liz knew she would comply with his request. And not just because of the throbbing pain in her hand. No, because of the manner in which he asked, and the way that his eyes pleaded with her. Almost as if he were trying to make it up to her, to [I]tell[/I] her something - to make things right.
So it was without any initial surprise that she felt herself nodding her head softly, her gaze still locked with Max's. A look of utter relief crossed his features, replaced with one of concrete concentration as he spoke the familiar phrase of taking deep breaths and letting her mind blank out. But before doing so she couldn't help but flash back to a time, not so long ago, when Max had uttered those very same words to her, leading to an event that she often speculated led to her first falling for him. Just as fast as the memory flitted across her brain, she forced it to fade away, letting her mind become blissfully blank, relishing the moment where there were no threats from the Sheriff, no 'taking a step back,' no worries or fears about the uncertain future. In this moment it was just her and Max.
It wasn't until an upsurge of emotion washed over her that she realized [I]why[/I] he asked her of this in such a manner. [I]He was reversing the connection as he healed her.[/I] He was letting her see every part of him, just as he was more than likely seeing every part of her. Sentimental tears pricked at her vision, but she refused to let them fall, focusing intently on the potent connection that was unfurling between them.
Just as before, she could feel [I]everything[/I] he was feeling, but it was more of an impression this time, the emotions fueling together in a rush. Yet right at the top of the concoction was [I]yearning[/I], followed shortly after by an image of her own face. These flashes were rapidly replaced with mild irritation at Michael, and then fear and confliction. Suddenly Liz was viewing all the events that had transpired once Everett Hubble had taken Max out to Bitter Lake. The image of a gun pointing straight at her was preceded by a sense of trepidation so great that it clawed at her insides and caused her heart to race, though she [I] knew[/I] she was safe inside the Crashdown with Max beside her.
And then, all the flashes were of her, almost like a play-by-play movie screen was showing the past few weeks - months even. They were coupled with appropriating emotions to go with each image. Exasperation. Passion. Longing. Elation. Pain. Regret. And dare she hope.? Something resembling l-
As abruptly as it began, the connection began to dissipate. Her hand forgotten, Liz's eyes snapped open (when had she closed them?) and Max's expression filled her view. His mouth was open slightly, but it was his luring eyes and the emotion swirling within them that caused her breath to catch in her throat. Amber hues drew her in, surrounding her until she was saturated. And yet, all she wanted to do was inch closer despite the fact that he was only a breath away. "Max," she breathed. "Max."
A cloud slid across Max's expression, and his gaze became dark and unreadable. His head pulled back and he straightened, clearing his throat. Liz felt her heart drop. "You'll be all right now. Good as new." He smiled faintly, but his eyes remained the same, shadowy and incomprehensible.
"Max!" She exclaimed. Was he really going to do this? To ignore the connection, to just disregard all the tumultuous feelings she knew, she absolutely [I]knew[/I], he had felt too? Were things supposed to go back to normal now, as if none of this had happened? As if her very [I]soul[/I] wasn't crying out, longing to be intertwined with his own?
In the end, however, it was his decision. And his actions spoke volumes about just that. She couldn't [I]force[/I] him to see anymore than she could force herself to let go.
Liz languidly slid her hand out of Max's, instantly shivering with the loss of the warm contact. It was then that Liz recalled that things were far from normal, and would always be, no matter how hard they tried.
This recollection was only deepened further in her mind when Liz turned around and was met face to face with Kyle Valenti's dumbfounded expression.
To Be Continued.