Disclaimer: Roswell, and its characters do not belong to me. Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox have that particular pleasure. I'm simply borrowing them until the Season 2 DVD's get released.

Chapter Seventy – Three Confession is Good for the Soul

Max stood up and walked across the room and stepped out onto a small balcony that overlooked a private courtyard. He leaned against the railing and watched the two moons come up over the mountains in tandem, filling the courtyard below with a shimmering light.

Max felt so conflicted, he didn't know what to do. He knew he sounded like a pompous arrogant ass every time he opened his mouth lately, but he couldn't help it. He was so confused. He wanted nothing more than to sit down and talk to his father. Not Che'koth, or Drinian, or whatever the hell his name was, but his father. The man who taught him how to hit a ball, and drive a car. The one who rescued him and Isabel from the desert that dark night so long ago.

"Mind if I join you?" the Sheriff asked, standing in the doorway.

"What, oh, no, Jim," said Max, coming out of his reverie. "How are you feeling?"

"A hell of a lot better than I've felt in a long time, I'll tell you that," said Jim.

"Guess we took care of all those other aches and pains when we healed you, huh?" Max asked with a grin.

"Well, yeah, you did," admitted Jim. "But that wasn't what I was talking about. I was talking about how I felt in here," he said, pointing to his heart. "I am so relieved Max, because for the first time since I found out about all of you, I know you're safe. You aren't in danger anymore. Not from Tess, or Kivar, or any alien race of super soldiers. The nine of you can finally start living."

"Yeah, that is something bordering on the side of incredible, isn't it?" said Max.

"And yet, I'm getting a feeling that you're still pretty unhappy, Max. Why is that?"

"I don't know," said Max. "You'd think I'd be on top of the world, instead, I'm acting like a world class jackass. For Christ's sake Jim, I'm a king, a freaking king! How many kids grow up pretending they're a king, and here I am, King Max."

"It's a pretty big responsibility, isn't it?" asked Jim. "But I'll tell you one thing, Max, if you chose to shoulder it, you'll do fine. I've never seen you fail at anything you've tried to do. And I'm going to be honest with you, son, I don't think that's what's bothering you. Now do you want to talk about it, or are we going to sit here and look at the moons all night?"

"God, Jim, I don't know. I really don't," said Max, his expression conveying the anguish he was unable to verbalize. "You know what I was sitting here thinking about a few minutes ago? How much I wish I could talk things over with my dad. You know, get his take on everything."

Jim smiled to himself, at last Max was getting to the route of the problem.

"Well, you can," he said. "He's sitting in there right now with the others talking."

"He's not my dad!" Max shouted, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. "He's not. My father is Philip Evans. He's done everything for me, and that man in there, what has he done?"

"He gave you life, not once, but twice," said Jim, calmly, pulling Max into his arms. "And he sent you far away so that you and the others would have the chance to live. You're right Max, Philip is your father, and nothing will ever take that away from you. You don't have to choose, you have room in your heart, and in your life to love them both."

Jim listened quietly while Max poured out his conflicted emotions about having two fathers, purging himself of all the doubt he was feeling. When Max calmed down, he pulled away, embarrassed at his outburst.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I acted like an ass."

"No, now you're acting like an ass," said Jim. "Before you were acting like someone who has been through a lot, and has a lot to deal with. I want to ask you a question, Max."

Max stared at Jim, puzzled by the unexpected turn in the conversation, but listened quietly.

"Do you love Liz?" the Sheriff asked.

"Well, yeah, of course I do," said Max. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you love Isabel any less than you love Liz?"

"Well, no, but that's different," said Max.

"Okay, what about Michael, you love Michael, right?" asked Jim, pressing the issue.

"You know I do," snapped Max, getting angry.

"And Kyle and Alex? What about them?"

"They're my best friends," said Max. "I'd die for them."

"And me, Max, what about me, Max? I'd like to think that you love me, because God knows I love each and every one of you kids and I think of you as my own," said Jim, emotion thickening his voice.

"Jesus, Jim, if it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be stuck in the white room. You saved my life. I- I don't know what I, what any of us would have done with out you," Max said, softly.

"Then let me ask you one more question Max. Knowing how you feel about me, does it diminish, even one little bit, the love you have for your parents?"

"No, it doesn't," Max admitted. "I guess I've been a complete jackass, haven't I?"

"No, what you are is a confused young man who has gone through more in the past few years than anybody in our world will ever go through," said Jim. "Well, if you excuse me," Jim continued, "I'm going to head inside. It's getting pretty chilly out here."

He walked to the doorway and stood in it for a second, looking at the moons rising higher over the mountains. "Think about it, Max."

"Is he okay?" Drinian asked Jim when he returned to the small gathering.

"He will be, but it's going to take some time," said Jim. "But Max is a smart boy, Che'koth, he'll come around."

"He came around already," said Max, walking up to the two men. "Thank you," he said to Jim. Jim merely nodded and slipped away to go join the others across the room.

"And thank you," Max said to Drinian.

"What do you thank me for?" asked Drinian.

"As a wise man explained it to me," said Max, smiling at Jim Valenti. "You gave me life, not once, but twice. Thank you for that, and thank you for letting us go, and giving us the chance to have a normal existence. It couldn't have been easy for you to make that choice. But you did it. Everything you did, you did for us, and I've been a perfect bastard about the whole thing."

Drinian stepped closer to Max and pulled his son into an enveloping bear hug. "You are so welcome my son," said Drinian. "I hope you never have to feel the same kind of pain and agony I felt at making that decision."

"I don't know if I could be as selfless as you were," said Max. "I've proven more than once what a selfish bastard I can be."

"You are young," said Drinian. "In most instances, selfishness is part of the package. Selflessness tends to develop as you mature."

"When you're ready," said Max. "I'd like to hear the rest of your story. Father," he added, this time saying the name with love and respect.