Chapter 23

"You go first."
Liz threw a hesitant glance in Emma's direction, who Max had positioned on Liz's bed.
"She'll be okay," Max said softly, even though the words spoke of something very far away from the actual truth.
With a slow, absent nod, Liz wrapped her arms around her, a distant look in her eyes as Emma remained at the center of her attention.
"What if she won't?"
A sharp pain twitched through his heart at her fearful whisper. He stepped up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Pulling her close, he placed a kiss on the side of her neck and then rested his chin on her shoulder.
"She will, Liz."
"What if she never wakes up? What if she just remains dead inside?"
Max closed his eyes against the truth in her questions, against something that he was too afraid to acknowledge; something that reminded him to the decision he had to make. Feeling the guilt wash over him, he loosened his hold on her and took a step back.
"I'll keep an eye on her, Liz. You should take a shower."
Liz turned towards him and nodded, her eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet. Max laid his hands on her shoulders and forced himself to smile. "Honey, you know you want it. You've been longing for that bathtub for ages."
The mood lightened some and Liz looked up at him, easing the pain in his chest with a soft smile.
"You're right."
Liz walked towards the bathroom, but Max's voice stopped her. "Liz?"
She turned towards him. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
He could practically see the tenseness in her shoulders lighten and she smiled, brighter this time, but still only a weak residue of the smile that could light up the world. "I love you."
Liz started for the bathroom again when she was stopped by a feeling of hopelessness that suddenly loomed over her. Instinctively, she knew that it came from Max.
"I'm going to be alright, Max."
He looked startled by her statement and his eyes met hers in silent question. But there wasn't any confusion in his expression. He knew what she was implying; he just hadn't expected her to pick up on it. He barely nodded in reply, his throat suddenly feeling too thick to voice words, let alone form a complete sentence. There was still the nagging voice at the back of his head, which not even her calm voice could silence. There was still that deep feeling of dread and helplessness crushing his heart.

It was not until he heard the water running in the bathroom that he averted his eyes from the bathroom door. His eyes wandered around the room where so many memories were imbedded: Liz's bedroom. Something he had considered Mecca when he had been young. The room still held its importance to him and it probably always would. The room was permeated with innocence, of a time in the past when everything had seemed so much easier. It really felt as if nothing had changed when he stood there in the room. It still looked the same. It was as if time had been frozen here and nothing had ever changed. His mind could still conjure up the smell of the vanilla shampoo she had used that night when they had first made love. He could still remember how happy she had been, but as clearly as the memory of her smile was in his mind, so was the lingering sadness in her eyes. He hadn't known the cause of it then, but now he knew. She had given up everything to act in accordance with his future self's wishes and then she had let it all go. That night, when she had given herself to him, she had been disappointed with herself for not being able to withstand him.

It was with sadness that he sat down on the bed and took Emma's small hand in his larger one. He was happy that Liz had succumbed and let him back into her life, but at the same time he wished that she hadn't, because so much had changed with that action. So much of her life had been altered and so much that could have been reality for her was crushed because of his love for her. He turned Emma's smooth hand, her skin as silky as her mother's, so her palm faced upwards. If Liz hadn't let him back into her life that night, Emma wouldn't exist today. Slowly, he traced the lines on her palm, feeling the softness that only the hand of a child could have. She hadn't grown up yet, but he had missed so much of her life and now she was destroyed, because of him. Because of whom he was.
"I'm sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Are you okay?"
He inhaled deeply, her voice startling him. He relaxed when he felt her arms encircle his waist and her body pressed against his. Her wet hair brushed against his back as she pressed a kiss against the side of his neck. He took another breath, letting the fresh smell of soap and shampoo, fill his nostrils.
"You smell good," he smiled.
"Does that mean that I stank before?"
He could hear the responding smile in her voice and he captured her hands and entwined his fingers with hers, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist.
"Well…"
His voice trailed off, leaving it up to the silence to speak of what he was implying.
"Max Evans," Liz murmured against his back as her lips softly kissed his skin just above his shoulder blades, "I think you might want to rethink that reply if you want to sleep in here tonight."
Max took a hold of her arm and gently, but strongly, pulled her around him, so that she ended up on his lap. He couldn't help but smile as his eyes met hers. He would never get tired to look into her eyes, to bury himself in the warmth that was Liz Parker's soul.
"Much better," he murmured before claiming her lips with his own.
For a moment, he let the worries and concerns that were eating away at him every moment of the day drift away and focused merely on the feeling of her soft lips and the taste of her. His decision to deepen the kiss earned him a moan from Liz, which made him warm all over. When oxygen became an issue, he slowly and reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to gulp oxygen into his lungs.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he whispered.
"I have a vague idea," Liz said softly, her shallow breathing making his heart beat faster. "But…" She placed a lingering kiss at the side of her neck before pulling back and looking at him. "…I have to tell you that you smell pretty…bad."
Max quirked one eyebrow at her in surprise. "Do I now?"
Liz hid her smile and nodded, biting her lower lip. Honestly, he didn't smell bad. He smelled like Max and she loved that smell. But there were certain fragments of fragrances from Antar in his clothes and those smells disconcerted her.

"Aha," Max leaned closer to her, his breath tickling her lips, "then you would really hate me doing this, wouldn't you?" Closing the miniscule gap between them, he attacked her lips. There was nothing slow and tentative about the kiss. It was passionate and filled with barely restrained heated desire. Their lips moved together in the most familiar of dances, melting into one. Their hands roamed over their bodies, craving as much contact as possible. Just as she shifted in his lap, to come closer, Max broke the kiss, not being really successful in hiding the moan her last movement had elicited in him.
"Then I should go and take a shower then," he said breathlessly, staring deep into her dazed eyes. She nodded slowly, his words being processed extremely slowly in her head, barely able to pass through the mist he had successfully created, submerging her into his soul.
But even in her dazed condition, she didn't fail to notice how his eyes turned more melancholy and the way his fingers lingered lightly, like the brush of butterfly wings, against the side of her cheek, before he dropped his hand and gently lifted her off his lap.
"I'll be right back," he whispered. Liz's gaze was fixed on his back until he disappeared into the bathroom and out of her sight. Her eyes remained fixed on the bathroom door for another couple of seconds, her mind far away, trying to decipher Max's expression. She had a strong feeling at the pit of her stomach that something was very wrong. It wasn't just her problems anymore, the ones she hadn't told Max about yet. She got the strange feeling that there was something he wasn't telling her. Maybe she should tell him about her fears. Maybe she should tell him about the connection. He must've felt the weakening too. Maybe that was what was worrying him.

Liz shook her head, mostly to herself, before lying down on the bed. No, there was something else. The last thought that had chance to enter her mind before sleep claimed her was that she had to speak to Max. They were drifting apart because they weren't talking anymore. They were finally back on Earth and it was time for them to finally start living their lives – together. But her plan to talk to Max was overshadowed by the ever-present threat of death. What if she didn't live long enough to give Max what he had always wanted?

Normalcy.

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His gaze remained steady, but as steadily as he appeared to be tracing the fluorescent star stickers on the ceiling, his gaze was focused on a more far-reaching outer space. He could feel how her chest was softly moving beside him with every breath, even though he wasn't touching her in any way. He could hear the soft exhalations and he could picture how she looked just then perfectly in his mind. He had spent numerous nights lying awake, just watching her sleep. Watching the peacefulness in her face and how her lips were slightly parted. How her lips would occasionally move to form the reminiscence of a word, taken directly from the dream world she was experiencing. He had memorized every line in her face, every tiny freckle. Some nights he would let his hands hover over her, the healing powers in his hands working to pull her life force against his palms, feeling her vibrate with life in his hands, without ever touching her. But he didn't do either today. He couldn't touch her in any way; the guilt was too empowering. The knowledge of what he had to do was weighing him down and he still wasn't sure he had made the right choice. The irony of it was that there wasn't any right or wrong in this decision. There was never anything right about taking someone's life, but he had to do it. To save hers.

His heart was thundering in his chest, feeling imprisoned by his dark thoughts and wanting to break free. He had lost count on how many times he had wished that he had been normal and that being with Liz wouldn't harm her in any way. But just as soon as that thought entered his mind, there was the blinding realization that Liz would have died that day in September on the floor of the CrashDown Café if he had been normal. He wouldn't have been able to help her in any way. He would have been forced to helplessly watch her die. A shiver of cold dread shook his body at the thought. He wouldn't be able to live in a world where there was no Liz Parker. In a world where her warmth couldn't surround him and her laughter couldn't brighten up his day. He would be lost in a world where he couldn't watch her every day and hear her voice. That's why he had to do this. There were numerous feelings of selfishness, of guilt, of sorrow, of loss, but he was certain that this was the only way. The babies were harming Liz and if he didn't do something, both the babies and Liz would die.

The darkness was dense around him, but he had been staring through it for so long that it didn't help in shielding what he was about to do. With the feeling of a knife being turned in his heart, he turned to his side and stopped. Her head was turned to her side, her head resting against the back of Emma's head. One of her arms was resting over Emma, while the other was stretched out next to her, as if reaching for him. He swallowed hard, but nothing could bury the taste of bile in his mouth. Forcing back the tears and the voice that was telling him to not go through with it, he took a hold of the thin sheet covering her body and pulled it down. She was wearing a thin nightgown. She told him earlier that she had bought it when she was seventeen. It still fit her, but the material was stretched around her waist, showing signs of the slight protruding of her early pregnancy. He pressed his eyes tightly together at the sight when a sharp loneliness stabbed him. He had to take several deep breaths before he could force himself to continue. Careful not to disturb her, he took a hold of the bottom of her nightgown and started to hitch it upwards. A soft sigh from her lips made him freeze and he waited; hoping that she wouldn't wake up while at the same time hoping that she would.

He had felt it before, but never to the same degree. Not with the same loathed intensity. The disgust. The disgust for himself. Now it wasn't only for what he was, but also for what he was about to do. He placed his hands on her stomach, but instead of having the warmth of her skin soothing him, a cold shiver raced through his heart and his hands started to tremble. His guilt-ridden mind conjured up the image of her. Her smile. Her beautiful face. Her eyes. Her lips. Her heart. The reasons to do it were many, but still not a single one was reason enough. He could feel the energy collecting in his body and sparkling down his arms, spreading warmth into his hands, his palms. But he held it back, waiting for the sign to come to tell him if he was doing the right thing or not.

He waited, but it didn't come.

He was on his own. He took another deep breath, tears rolling freely down his cheeks, and he closed his eyes focusing on the energy inside of him. Energy to heal, to bring life; but the same energy to kill, to take life. Just then the surface beneath his hands moved. He jumped at the touch, the energy inside of him quickly retreating with the shock. Liz moaned softly and shifted, but his gaze was focused on her stomach. They moved. They just kicked.

And he knew that he would never be able to do it. The magnitude of what he was about to do and that he could already now have killed his own children washed over him and he quickly pulled his hands away from her. With trembling hands, he gently pulled down the nightgown and pulled up the sheet to cover her up. She shifted, her hand coming into contact with his thigh. He looked at it for a long second, before picking it up and feeling the soft texture of her small hand in his.
"I love you, Liz. I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what I am and for what I've done to you."
His voice was barely a whisper, cracking with unrestrained tears and guilt. He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. With a lonely 'I love you', he rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom.

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Liz awoke ten minutes later, feeling the absence of his warmth like a throbbing pain in her body. Her hand reached out to blindly fumble in the darkness. His mere absence wouldn't have been so strange, if it wasn't for the surge of panic moving through her body. Something was wrong. She left the warmth of her daughter and sat up in the bed, blinking repeatedly to transform the darkness into light. The furniture took form around her and she became aware of the muffled sound of water running.

She crawled out of bed and flung her legs over the edge of the bed. The floor felt cold under her feet and she shivered. Unconsciously resting the palm of her hand against her abdomen, she slowly walked towards the bathroom, ignoring the light-headedness that was trying to force her to sit down. The door was unlocked and the noise volume gradually increased when she pushed the door open. She could see the contours of his body through the thin shower curtain.
"Max?"
There was no response. Frowning, she spoke his name again, louder this time. When he still didn't respond, she pulled the shower curtain to the side. He jumped at the sound, apparently not having heard her entrance into the bathroom. He quickly turned his head away from her, but he was not quick enough.
"What's wrong?" Liz asked concerned, the short glimpse of his red eyes and haunted face burned into her memory.
"Go back to sleep, Liz," came his whispered response. Or that what was he was intending for it to be. It sounded more like a tortured croak.
The panic racing through her intensified and the need to have him listen to her became harder to ignore.
"Hey!" Liz said more forcefully, reaching into the shower to take a hold of him. "Look at me!"
"Liz, please," Max whispered, his eyes downcast as he reluctantly turned towards her.
"Max, you're scaring me," Liz murmured, her gaze raking over his face. Why was he moving away from her?
"I can't…" Max breathed, refusing to meet her eyes. He couldn't look her into the eyes after what he had almost done.
"Max, we have to talk," Liz said. "I can feel you pulling away from me. There's something very wrong with our connection and-"
"I can't talk about this," Max said.
"Yes, we have to," Liz insisted. The water was pelting down her face, the nightgown clinging to her body, as she stepped more fully into the shower; quickly making up for every step he took backwards with one of her own. "I cannot go through this alone, Max. I need you with me."
Her voice broke with a sob and Max faltered. He wanted to stay away from her. He didn't want her to know what he had been about to do.
"I'm sick, Max."
That simple sentence made his heart stop in his chest. She had never admitted it before. She had always acted like everything was just fine. To hear the words confirm what he had known for so long was terrifying.
"I might die," Liz whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her grief and loneliness.
Hearing that, Max couldn't resist her any longer and he took her in his arms. He could feel the trembles going through her body and his arms tightened around her.
"Max, you're trembling," Liz whispered, worried.
That's when he realized that it wasn't she who was trembling, it was he.
"I did something, Liz."
"What did you do?" Liz whispered softly, fear invading her.
"I… I…"
How was he supposed to tell her that he had been on the verge of killing their children? She would leave him. She would leave him immediately. But wasn't that what he wanted? So that she could be safe?
"What is it, Max?" Her voice was calm, but due to the close proximity, the connection was more alive than ever and he could feel the fear taking over her.
"I'm… Liz… I…"
Liz pulled out of his arms, tears mixing with the water from the shower. "Max, please… What did you do?"

His stuttering reply was interrupted by a high-pitched scream, which make them both freeze.
"Oh my God," Liz whispered agonized. "Emma."
She turned around so quickly that her feet got caught up in each other, and she would've fallen, if Max hadn't snaked out with his arm and steadied her. He ripped a towel down from a crook and tied it around his waist while his legs were simultaneously moving after Liz to get into the bedroom. Max barely had time to reach the bed, before the bedroom door was wrenched open and the light was switched on, making the room suddenly bathe in light.
"What's going on?"
Max didn't even bother to look up at Mr. Parker as his question rang through the room. Neither did Liz. She was already on the bed, pulling Emma into her arms.

Emma.

She was crying. Her lips were trembling and her big brown eyes, so reminiscent of her father's, were filling up with big tears.
"It's okay, honey. It's okay," Liz whispered over and over again, rocking Emma in her arms.
"Liz?" Mrs. Parker took in the scene in front of her. The crying child, the tears on Liz's cheeks, the fact that Max was undressed. However, it was the haunted look on Max's face that captured her attention. They didn't need to have it spelled out for them. Everyone in that room knew that something had happened. Something had changed.
"Emma, can you hear me?" Max said gently, his body trembling as he sat down on the bed, still leaving some distance between him and Liz.
"Mommy," Emma whispered. "Mommy… mommy… mommy…" Her voice gradually increased until she was screaming, her voice cracking, but it didn't stop her.
"Please, honey," Liz cried. "Please tell me what's wrong. Please, baby."
Liz's desperate cries cut through Max's heart and against his own feelings of guilt and his determination that his presence only hurt Liz he leaned closer to her and took her hand. Her hand squeezed his in response immediately and so tightly it would've been painful if he had noticed. As of yet, his attention was completely on Emma, who after three months of silence was communicating to the world again. Her screams slowly ripped his soul into pieces, while at the same time the noise was music to his ears.

"What is wrong with her?"
Mr. Parker's silent question barely made broke through Emma's screams, but the firm hand on Max's shoulder forced Max to look at Liz's father.
"Is she sick? What is wrong?"
"Mr. Parker," Max's eyes rested on Mr. Parker for only the split of a second, before returning his attention to Emma, "There are some things that you need to know, but it has to wait. Emma needs us now."
"Dad, please," Liz said, her voice cracking with fear and tears, "Could you just give us some privacy?" She was afraid that the presence of two strangers would put a stop to whatever progress was happening to Emma.
"Mooommmy!!!"
The scream sent shivers down Max's spine and suddenly he didn't care about being polite or careful towards Mr. and Mrs. Parker. He just had to get them out of there. Quickly scrambling to his feet, he almost pushed them out of the room, so quickly that Mr. Parker barely had time to voice his protests. The wooden door was shut behind them and Max put his hand against the lock and melted it.
"Maaax!!"
He turned quickly at her scream and the sight that confronted him turned the blood in his body to ice.

TBC...