Part 17

Beth does not know what to do, after Lonnie hangs up. She paces the suite's living room area, feeling like a caged animal. How can Zan do this? How can he love her this much? She does not deserve it, and it angers her even more because of it.

How will she live with the guilt of this? How will Max? Because she knows that he will feel just as responsible as she does.

How can Zan do this and not even leave her the option of trying to fix it?

She knows that anger is the wrong response. Guilt is too. He would not want that. It goes against everything he is trying to do for her...and for Max. But how can he expect anything less? Does he not know her at all?

Lonnie says that it will all make sense in time. But Beth wants it to make sense now. She has lived the last five years in a world of secrets, in a world where she never quite understood anything. And, now, just when it is all starting to make sense, the rug has been pulled out from under her again.

She cannot live with this. It is just impossible. He clearly never knew her at all, if he thinks she can, no matter what she learns in time.

He never knew you because you never let him.

She raises her hands, pressing them against her temples to shut out the voice of her own conscience. Tears stream from her clenched eyes, as she struggles not to scream her frustration. The last thing she wants is to awaken the others. Because if she does not understand Zan's sacrifice, she feels that none of them will understand why she is upset. They will accept what he has done. It will make them happy, because Max will be safe. She cannot bear the sight of them trying to hide their joy, because they will recognize it as inappropriate.

They will hail Zan as a hero. She cannot, because her fear for him is practically strangling her. She does not care that Lonnie says she will understand. She will never understand. She cannot accept that he is sacrificing himself like this. There has to be another way!

She needs air. Is it too early to go out? Glancing out the window, she sees that the first grey shades of dawn are beginning to gather.

Beth pauses in her pacing. Somewhere, miles away, Max will wake up soon. He will know that she lives - and he will come for her.

He will be able to come because of the sacrifice Zan has made. Zan has given her this gift, and she does not know how she can bear it. But she does know that she owes it to him to accept it. At least for now.

Max will help her. Max will help her to figure out a way to save Zan. Because he will not be able to bear it either. Especially because he, more than anyone, will know exactly what Zan has done to himself. Max has lived it for five years.

Max will help her. But first she must see him. And she will not see him here. Since she cannot face the others right now, and since she cannot go to Lonnie, Rath, or Ava, she will go and wait for Max, where she knows he will find her.

"Liz, where are you going?"

Her hand is already on the doorknob, but the soft voice behind her makes her jump and whirl.

It is Kyle's father. He comes out of the bedroom closest to the outer door of the suite, and she can tell that he has heard her because he has not been sleeping either.

"I need some air," she replies, turning again.

"Liz, what's wrong?"

She closes her eyes. "Nothing," she insists. She cannot talk about it. Not now.

He obviously does not believe her though, because he emerges fully from the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Beth remembers inanely that Tess and Kyle are sleeping there as well.

"Let's go talk," the sheriff says, gesturing towards the balcony.

"I can't," Beth insists. "I need to go."

"Are you going back to them?" Valenti asks gently.

"No," Beth replies, sounding more bitter than she means to. "I can't do that either." She pauses, eyeing the sheriff for a moment. His sad eyes pierce her for a moment, and she sighs. She remembers how this man has spent the last five years of his life blaming himself for her death. She can see now that all he wants to do is to help her. And, so, she tells him, "I'm going to wait for Max."

"You don't seem very happy about it," the sheriff tells her. "And can't the others come with you?"

Beth glances at the closed door leading to the room in which Kyle and Tess sleep. "Can we go somewhere?" she finally asks. "I mean, I'm just not ready to tell them what's going on."

"Don't you trust them?" Valenti asks, not sounding angry, only concerned.

"I do," Beth replies firmly. "It's just that it's complicated. They're not exactly very understanding of Zan. I can't blame them, but I also can't deal with it right now."

"Okay," Valenti agrees. "Just give me few minutes to get dressed. I'll meet you down in the lobby. We'll eat breakfast, because I don't think I've seen you eat anything since I've been here." He adds the last sternly, and it makes her smile slightly, in spite of herself. She does not really remember her father, nor any father, but she assumes that this sense of tolerant amusement at his protectiveness might be close to what it feels like.

She broods as she descends in the elevator. She remembers that Zan never had a father. That his father-figure compared him to someone else for his entire life. She wonders how much of Zan's sacrifice is wrapped up in Langley's warped interpretation of what Zan's existence meant - that he was only ever intended to be a second for Max. She does not know what to think about it. She does now want to think about it.

She is in the lobby, still thinking about it - because wanting and doing are two different things entirely - when the elevator doors open again and Sheriff Valenti joins her. He motions towards the hotel's restaurant, which is just opening for breakfast.

"I'm not hungry," Beth admits several minutes later, when they are seated. She looks at the waitress. "I'll just have coffee."

"Me neither," the sheriff tells her. "But we should eat anyway."

Beth shrugs. "I guess I'll have some toast then."

The waitress leaves and Beth begins to play with her silverware. Up in the room it had felt like a good idea to share some of this burden, but now, with the sheriff's knowing blue eyes on her, she feels uncomfortable again. Her thoughts are in turmoil. How can she even begin to formulate any sort of explanation that will make sense, when she does not understand anything that is happening herself?

The sheriff seems aware of her hesitation, because he opens the door for her. "You said last night, when I first told you that Zan had taken off, that you thought he might be about to do something stupid." When Beth looks at him in surprise, he raises an eyebrow. "This [I]is[/I] about him, isn't it?"

Beth looks down. "Zan has given himself up to the FBI." She feels her throat tighten, clears it so that she can finish. "He's taking Max's place."

She looks up at the sheriff. He has closed his eyes, and has fallen back against his chair, obviously upset. "How do you know this?"

"I talked to Lonnie." Beth places her elbows on the table, dropping her face into her hands. She fills him in quickly on everything Zan's sister told her. Then she says, "I am so angry at him, sheriff. I know it's wrong - that he's doing this for me, so I can be with Max - but I can't even deal with it. It's just too much. How can he do this? How can I possibly live with this?"

There is a long pause. She looks up at the sheriff. He is watching her pensively. Finally he says, "Maybe it's not about you at all, Liz."

"But he's doing it so Max will be safe," Beth argues. "So that Max and I can be together. I know it's not possible to love two people at the same time. I know that what I feel for Max - I don't even remember him and I know . And it's not what I feel for Zan. I don't love him that way, sheriff, but I do love him. I've been with him for three years. How can I know that it's Max that I'm supposed to be with, and, yet, I ended up with Zan and never even remembered Max at all. I still don't remember him! How did this happen? And how can this not be about me? Zan is doing this so I don't have to feel guilty for being with Max. And I just cannot live with it!"

"Are you sure that's why he's doing it?" the sheriff asks gently.

"What other reason could there be?" Beth demands.

She is angry again. She clutches the cloth napkin on the table, trying not to lose control of herself.

Why could he not have come to her? How can he not know that he is torturing her by running away like this? How cold does he think she is, that he thinks she can live with this?

He does not think you are cold. He knows that you would have been torn, that you could not have handled breaking his heart, that it would have stood between you and Max. And so he is taking the choice away from you, so that you never had to do it. And, maybe, just maybe this whole thing is not all about you, like the sheriff says. Maybe, just maybe, it is also about Zan and what he needed to do.

The small voice is back. Strangely, it is not really speaking in words, but she interprets its meaning as such. She frowns. She wonders at it. It does not feel like her conscience at all, this understanding, as it comes to her. Because her conscience is presently tortured with guilt. It does not have the capacity for reason at the moment. But if it is not her, then what is it?

Who is it? Is it Zan? Is he trying to make her accept this? Has he somehow managed a connection to her now, at the end?

The irony of it brings tears to her eyes.

The sheriff is watching her. She knows that she is about to start crying, but he does not seem to mind. Finally he says, "Who was Zan, Liz? Tell me about him."

Beth stares at him. "You want me to tell you about Zan? Why?"

"Because I think you need to talk about him and I think that you're right that the others aren't quite ready to hear you do that." He sighs. "They are good people, Liz, which I think you know, but you don't know how much they have missed both of you. It's going to take them a while to accept how much time they've lost with both of you. Zan and the other duplicates are easy to blame for it, even though I'm sure they really do get that it wasn't any of their fault."

"I don't think Zan would agree with you," Beth tells him. "I'm pretty sure he's spent the last forty-eight hours beating himself up over the fact that he didn't realize who I was. I know he just tried not to understand, though. He is the kindest person I have ever known. He would never have lied to me, if he had figured it out."

"I'm sure he wouldn't have," the sheriff agrees. "I only met him for a few minutes, but he seemed like a very responsible young man."

"He was," Beth says. She then proceeds to tell the sheriff all about Zan - about how they met, about how he had changed for her, about who he was. She finishes by saying, "He looked after me. He was so good to me, sheriff. Which is maybe why I can't accept him doing this. He deserves to find happiness. He deserves to find someone who will love him back the way I never could."

"We can't make ourselves love someone else, Liz," the sheriff says. "You can't beat yourself up over this. You didn't make him do this. You need to accept it, or what he has done will have been for nothing. You need to respect the love he had for you, by accepting it."

"I wish it was that simple," Beth says. "There's got to be something we can do!"

"There might be," the sheriff agrees. "But you need to think about it, really hard. If you do try and save him, you are going directly against what he wants."

Beth narrows her eyes. "You're one to talk!" she exclaims. "You were going to try and find Max, even though he asked you not to!"

The sheriff nods. "That's true, I was. But Max was not thinking rationally. He did not have all the facts. And I could tell from our conversation that he was not doing what he really wanted to do."

"Are you saying you think that Zan really wants to die?" Beth demands, horrified. Because this is even worse! How can she ever accept that love for her drove him to suicide? What if the sheriff is right, and this is not about sacrificing himself so that she can be with Max, but rather is about the fact that he just cannot live with the idea?

"That's not what I'm saying at all," the sheriff says, beginning to sound exasperated. "You yourself said that Lonnie told you that Zan said you'd understand why he's done what he's done eventually. Do you think you'd ever understand him having killed himself?"

"Well, no," Beth admits.

"Do you trust Zan?"

"Yes," Beth replies. "I trust him."

"Then I think you owe it to him to believe that he knows what he's doing and that it will all make sense in the end. You owe it to yourself to finish what you've started, which is to find Max. It's what Zan wants and it's what you want. Can you do that, Liz? Can you stop worrying about your own guilt for even one day, so that what he's done won't have been for nothing? Hasn't there been enough guilt?"

"I don't know," she whispers. She meets his eyes. "You still feel guilty about what happened to me and Max."

"I do," the sheriff acknowledges. "But that's different, Liz. That's my guilt. You don't have to feel guilty about something that you didn't make happen. You didn't tell Zan to give himself up. You also didn't make him love you. And, even if you did, I don't think what's happened here has anything to do with any of that. So any guilt on your side is just self- indulgent."

Beth blinks at the harshness of his words, but then reflects on what the sheriff has said. "Isabel told me that Max and I were both like that, before," Beth finally says. "She said that we always blamed ourselves for things we couldn't control. Like I know that one of the reasons that Max never escaped before now was because he blamed himself for my death and he thought he deserved to be punished."

"I believe that could be true," the sheriff tells her. "And it's something that both you and Max are going to have to get over, I think."

"I don't know if I can," Beth whispers. "I mean, how can you change who you are inside?"

"You told me Zan changed."

"Well, on the outside, yes," Beth says. "But he was always kind inside, from the first moment I met him."

"Maybe he was," the sheriff says, "But he changed who he was for you. Don't you think that you can try and do the same for him? Because you already know he has not done this to make you miserable. He has done it because he wants you to be happy."

Beth stares at him, uncertain what to say. Because what he has said has hit home and, yet, she feels guilty even thinking about not feeling guilty. It is never-ending circle and she fears that she is not strong enough to escape it.

She believes the sheriff. That Zan would not want her to be unhappy. She knows this, of course. And, yet, she cannot control how she feels.

She remembers what Lonnie said - that soon she would understand.

She wishes that soon was now. Because, until she understands, she will continue to try and guess. And until she can stop that, the guilt will not go away.