Part 18

It takes too many hours to get to New York. He endures it. What are a few hours when compared to the years he has spent thinking she is dead? What are a few hours when compared to the years he will no longer spend alone?

He is not nervous, nor is he afraid that he has misunderstood what he knew when he woke up this morning. He sits quietly on the bus, staring straight ahead for most of the trip. He does not look out the window, because his entire focus is on what lies before him.

He will be in the city by late afternoon. And, there, the real reason he has survived all these years will be waiting for him.

He has been wrong all this time. He did not live to be punished. He lived for this day.

She asked him to burn for her, and he has done so for five years, not knowing what it even meant. Now he does. She wanted him to hold onto a small candle of hope, in his heart, that they would see each other again. He was not even aware, until his dream last night, that he knew what hope even felt like anymore.

Now he does. The flame never did quite die, after all.

Liz is alive.

She is alive, she needs him, and he will not let anything stand in the way. Not the Special Unit, which he thinks will be waiting for him too. Not the years they have been separated. Not the fact that for some reason he still does not understand, their connection is not what it once was.

He is not worried. It will all work out. It has to work out. Fate has brought her back to him, first in a dream, soon in reality, and he will not let anything stand in the way. Not guilt, not fear, not doubt. None of it matters. All he cares about is Liz. He knows she is waiting for him and he will not fail her again.

She is alive and it is all his mind can wrap itself around at the moment. Why, how, all of it will be answered eventually.

It is only when the bus is on the outskirts of the city that he frowns slightly. He has remembered why he has stayed away until now, but it is only in this moment that he wonders what has changed. It is still not safe for anyone that he come out into the open. And, yet, now, he does not care. Should he not care more, now that he knows that even Liz will be affected by his return? That she will be in danger because of him?

But he somehow knows that she will not be. Something has changed in the world today. He feels free, and he realizes that it is not just about Liz. He does not know what it is, but he knows that everything is going to be all right. His heart feels lighter than it has in years - since before he ever knew that something called the Special Unit existed.

The Special Unit will not be waiting for him. He does not understand why, but he knows that it is true.

The only explanation is that Pierce is dead, or soon will be. Because as long as Max's nemesis lives, he will not rest until he lays his hands on Max again.

Max does not attempt to find an answer for why this must be so, nor for how it came about. The answers will come. He has no more time for thought anyway. The bus is pulling into the station, and he feels his heart start to pound fervently.

He cannot yet feel her, but he is sure she is near. She is waiting for him, and at last, at last, they will be together.

There is no more need for thought. It will all be explained when he comes face to face with Liz. Today will be a day of answers. It will be a day of resolutions.

It will be a day to move on from the past, into a glorious future with the woman he has always loved; the woman he has mourned for five years; the woman he has survived to see again.

He leaves the bus, enters the station, and looks around. It is close to the dinner hour, the time when commuters return to their homes, so the station is busy, but is not afraid that he will miss her. He is no longer the one who burns. She is the flame and he is drawn to her as a moth is to the real thing. He finds her easily.

She is seated on a bench in a quiet area of the station, her back straight, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She is not staring into the crowd, searching, as one might expect. In fact, she has her eyes closed.

Because, after all, she does not need to see what she knows with her heart. She knows he is coming. He is meant to find her here. Fate has led them to this moment.

This does not mean that he does not allow himself to feel relief at the sight of her. He realizes that, in spite of his newly returned faith, he was preparing himself for disappointment. He was preparing himself that perhaps this was all a trick of his mind - that his damaged psyche had finally been driven stark, raving mad.

He allows himself a moment to drink in the vision that is Liz. Alive. Liz, alive. He feels his fingers start to tingle at the thought of touching her. Alive. Warm. Breathing.

Liz, alive.

After acknowledging that this young woman is indeed Liz - older, but still Liz - he takes in the changes. Her hair is very long. It flows over her shoulders, almost to her waist. It is the most obvious physical change. He notes something in her face too. A wariness is there, even though her expression is presently in repose.

He aches to see her eyes. They are still closed, although he can tell she is not asleep. She is simply waiting, but he is briefly shy. For the first time he wonders where she has been, what she has been doing.

It has been five years. What has she lived for these five years? He remembers his game of "what-if."

"What-if" she is out there, alive, and not alone?

His eyes darts quickly to her hands. They are still clasped, so he cannot see her fingers, to check for a ring. A ring, of course, might not be there anyway. No ring would not mean that she has necessarily been alone. She is only twenty-one. Too young for marriage, most would think.

He fully intends to put a ring on her finger as soon as possible, if that is what she wants. He does not care about their supposed youth. He feels like he has lived two million lifetimes without her in the past five years. He will live as few days without her permanently bound to him as possible.

If it is what she wants. If she is alone.

She must be alone. Because, if she is not, why now? Why has she called him to her now? He has understood that he escaped because he somehow knew that he was finally meant to find her alive, but why now?

There is only one way to find out.

Max moves forward. He wants to sit next to her, but he does not. He will not touch her until he is sure. He will not touch her until he is certain that it is what she wants.

He lowers himself carefully onto the bench across from her. He watches her tense. Her eyes are still closed, but he knows that she is aware of him.

What is she thinking in that instant, before she opens her eyes? He desperately wants to know, and he senses that he will, as soon as their gazes meet.

Before, with the connection, he suspects he would have. But the connection is muted, not what it was. He can feel her now, being so close to her, but the flame in his heart that is Liz is banked.

What has happened to her?

He is not afraid to find out, nor is he nervous. They were meant to find each other. It cannot be bad.

He is on fire with anticipation for her to see him.

When her beloved dark eyes finally open, he is not disappointed.

In that split second, he knows what he has always known anyway.

She has burned for him too.