Hi!

Umm... I just wanted to say that even though the gist of this story is based on the movie "Return to Me", I have not seen the movie and I have no clue at all to what's happening in that movie other than the basic premises I was given when I took the challenge to write this fic. So, this story will not resemble the movie, because I have no idea how the movie dealt with the problems that Liz and Max are dealing with here. I'm doing it my way and I'm not going to watch "Return to Me" before I finish this fic. But it will certainly be interesting to watch it afterwards...

Chrisse – Thank you!!

Charisma4 – Hi girl! I'm so happy that you have decided to give this fic a go. I'm on my knees thanking you for the beautiful feedback!!

Chapter 9


Alex rubbed his eyes as he slowly walked out into the poorly lit kitchen. He could see the profile of his wife sitting in the darkness. She was slumped over the kitchen table, defeated, her tired head resting in her hands. The soft light of the full moon outside the large kitchen window illuminated her skin, making her blond hair appear silverish. However, an image that would have otherwise been beautiful and enthralling was made mournful by her sad composure.
"Still no answer?" Alex asked softly.
Without looking up, his wife answered dully, "No."
Alex scratched behind his ear before walking further into the kitchen. He knew his wife well by now and he knew that there was an emotional outburst to expect of some kind. Either she would explode in anger or she would break down in tears. Either way, there was going to be some strong reaction judging by the vibes she was giving off.
"You know," Isabel began, lifting her head from her hands but not looking at him. Instead she turned her eyes towards the window. Alex watched the moonlight dance over her face and he saw the tears glittering on her cheeks. "He could at least pick up the phone. Would it be so damn hard to just pick up a stupid phone?!" Her voice was gradually picking up strength and Alex automatically winced against the impending outburst. Oh boy, here it comes.

"He just wants to be alone, Isabel. You got to give him space..."
"Space?" Isabel asked calmly and turned to look at him. Alex swallowed audibly. Bad move. "You think I should give him space?" Her voice was incredulous but very calm as she stared at him with one eyebrow partly raised.
"Max needs his space. He can deal with it. He just..."
"What?" Isabel demanded as his voice trailed off.
"He needs time," Alex answered.
Isabel frowned suspiciously. "That was not what you were going to say."
Alex sighed. "He misses her, Iz."
Isabel took a deep shuddering frustrated breath. She opened her mouth and Alex mentally prepared for the onslaught. But it didn't come.

"Have you noticed that there is no answering machine at Max's anymore?" Isabel asked, her voice softer.
Alex furrowed his forehead. "What are you talking ab-"
"Have you?" Isabel interrupted, her voice sharper.
"Of course I have," Alex answered.
"And you don't find that weird?" Isabel asked.
Alex shrugged. "Why would that be weird? He probably just got sick and tired of it and decided to throw it away or something."
Isabel looked at him as silence draped itself over the kitchen. Alex desperately searched her face. Her calmness was making him nervous. He could deal with an angry Isabel. He could deal with a crying Isabel. But this... He had no clue what to do. This wasn't Isabel behavior.
"Iz, I don't understand what you are trying to say. What does Max's answering machine have to do with him not picking up the phone tonight?"
"Do you remember the message on his answering machine?" Isabel inquired further.
Alex sighed and frustrated raked his hand through his hair. Why was she sidestepping the point of this conversation? "He made a mistake, Iz. He lost Michelle. But she is fine-"

"No," Isabel said sharply and rose from the chair. She stepped closer to him and answered her own question, "Max was going to record the message and when he came to 'not home right now' Josh jumps up on his lap and starts tickle him. Next you hear Tess trying to remove Josh. They all end up laughing and gasping out the message together during fits of laughter. They decided to keep it. I called Max a lot in the days after Tess and Josh's deaths and whenever he wasn't around to answer my call I would get that message. It always made me cry..."
"I remember," Alex said softly, putting a supporting hand on Isabel's shoulder.
Isabel took a deep breath and Alex witnessed the struggle she was having with keeping her emotions in check.
"Then, the day after the funeral it was gone. But he didn't just erase the message and put up another one. The answering machine was just gone."
"I'm sorry honey," Alex said gently, "but I don't understand what you are trying to tell me. It seems natural to me that Max would remove the message because it would be too painful..."
"That's just it," Isabel said. "That's the whole point. As a said, he didn't just remove the message, but the whole machine. The thing is, he still has it."
"Has what?" Alex asked confused.

"The answering machine," Isabel clarified, "It's up in her closet with all her clothes that are still hanging there." Isabel fought back a sob as she continued. "I was there one day last week to ask Max for that photo of Michelle as a baby that he and Tess borrowed ages ago. He wasn't home so I let myself in. I knew that before they had kept their photos in shoeboxes on the top shelf in their wardrobe. I didn't know, Alex." Isabel's voice cracked and she swallowed hard, her eyes shining bright with unshed tears. "I didn't know that he still had her clothes. I thought he'd removed them. But it was as if she was still living there. Still living. Like she would suddenly stand in the doorway, smile at me and ask if I was about to steal one of her skirts again. And they still smell like her. Two years. It's been two years and they still have her smell. I found the answering machine beside the photos on the shelf."

Isabel angrily brushed away a tear from her cheek and walked away from Alex, moving to the kitchen window and stopping there with her back towards Alex.
"I'm so scared, Alex. I'm so afraid that I'm going to lose him forever. I miss her so much." Her voice broke with the tears that were probably running down her hidden face at the moment. "But I can't bring her back. I know that. Max doesn't."
"He knows that," Alex said softly.
Isabel slowly shook her head. "But he's trying to keep her alive. Trying to keep the image of her alive. It's okay to remember someone. I will never forget Tess, but..."
"Max's way of dealing is wrong," Alex filled in.
"Yes," Isabel said without hesitation.
Alex sighed. "Maybe it isn't completely healthy, but we all have different ways of dealing with sorrow. of mourning. You know Max. He so..." Alex raked his mind for the right word, "...intense. He's calm on the outside but he feels so much. And when he loves, he loves completely. There's no halfway for him. It's all or nothing. That's the way he loves you. That's the way he loves Michelle. And that's the way he loved Tess - all the way. And she died. He needs time, Isabel. To process it all."

"But he isn't processing at all," Isabel said turning around, "This is making him sick. He is losing his mind. I can hardly recognize him anymore. Only...only when he's with Michelle can I see some semblance to the warm brother I once knew. He isn't dealing, Alex. He's treating the problem like with the answering machine. He puts it away and still keeps it, but he doesn't touch it anymore. He doesn't process it. Her clothes are still in the wardrobe. He sees them every time he get dressed. Every time he opens that damn door to the wardrobe he is reminded of Tess. What she meant to him and how much he loved her. And that she is dead. Or, maybe he is just fooling himself. You know, living in denial. Trying to make himself believe that she is just...just on a business...trip...or..."

With a painful sob Isabel slumped to the floor. Alex was by her side in an instant, brushing away the hair from her face, putting his arms around her and soothing her.
"Isabel, sweetheart, maybe he would be better off if he wasn't pressured by everyone to let go. Maybe he feels pressured by the time frame everyone sets for him. There is no specific time set for how long a person is allowed to grieve."
"But...he's dying Alex. I can't sit by any longer and just...passively watch him die."
"Shh," Alex placed a gentle kiss against her hair, "You are helping him everyday. Making him a part of Michelle's life as much as is possible. Inviting him over for dinner. Being there for him whenever he needs, not only a sister but, most importantly, a friend."
"He has to let go," Isabel whispered. "He has to let go. Before it kills him."
"Well...Maybe the incident today with Michelle scared him."
Isabel sank into his arms and looked up at him. "It was his eyes today, Alex. It was the Max I knew. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know," Alex answered quietly, "I saw it too."
Isabel covered her face against his chest, the familiar sense of safety wrapping around her as his arms held her tightly against him.
"Even if it was horrible emotions, it was Max. And it gave me hope. That somewhere inside of that...shell he has become, my Max is waiting to come out."
"Then we just have to find something to bring him out," Alex said quietly.
They stayed quiet for almost twenty minutes. Sitting on the floor in the moonlight, wrapped up in each other's arms, before heading off to bed.

---------------------------------------------------------------



Max pushed the door open. His hands were shaking, making the keys rattle in his hand. Stepping into the kitchen, he threw the keys on the counter. He could feel the strong shivers of coldness and warmth coursing through him. He had exerted himself. He had pushed himself too hard. He pulled the sweaty shirt over his head and threw it over the back of one of the chairs. Retrieving a glass from one of the cabinets, he moved to the sink and filled it with cold water. He closed his eyes as he struggled to get down the soft fluid against the suffocating nausea and the violent and erratic inhales and exhales his lungs were trying to perform.

Running had always been his refuge. While running, he could sift through all his thoughts undisturbed and he could either deal with them or push them away. But whatever the case, he would always feel better after a run.

It hadn't worked today.

For once, the sleeping pills hadn't helped. The pills that usually blessed him with a dreamless sleep had not been able to give him any relief tonight. His sleep had been plagued with all kind of dreams. But they hadn't been about Tess. That was the main reason he was so upset right now. Why he went out running for an hour and a half in the middle of the night.

Tess had played a passive role in his dreams. She had been in the background, silently watching. The hair color of the person who had been in the focus of hi s dreams hadn't been blonde, but dark brown. The eyes hadn't been blue but dark brown.

His throat burned and a metallic taste in his mouth made the nausea rise in his throat. But shakily raking his hand through his dark hair didn't remove her face from his mind. The guilt haunted him. Because it wasn't her face that made him upset, it was that he didn't want to forget her. For some strange reason a strong part of him wanted to nourish the memory of her face, of those comforting and consoling eyes.

He had promised himself that he would never love another woman - ever. Tess was the love of his life and no one would take her place. No one would be allowed entry to that part of his heart again. It was a sacred place for Tess, a place where he would cherish the memory of his wife.

He had been extremely distraught when he had lost Michelle. If something had happened to her he probably would have killed himself. She was the dearest person in his life. The light in his world and he couldn't bear losing her too. He couldn't lose another one. He wouldn't live through it. But although he had been panicking, the comfort and warmth he had felt from the woman who had helped him at the mall had not gone unnoticed. It had just been pushed back in the turmoil of other emotions churning through him. But fact remained that she had helped him. They didn't know each other and still she had promised him to help him find Michelle.

She had comforted him. Her words, even though the logical part of him knew that they had only been words of comfort and that she couldn't have been certain that they were going to find Michelle either, had calmed him down. He had believed her. He had trusted that she would make everything right.

And that frightened him.

He didn't even know this woman. He didn't know her name and he would probably never meet her again. Still, she had, in the time span of a few seconds, managed to nestle her way into his warded heart. No one had ever done that before.

With a hard slam he put the glass down. The truth was staring him in the face. But the betrayal to Tess by admitting it was smothering. No one had nestled their way into his heart so quickly before. Not even Tess...

He raked his tired and still trembling hands through his damp hair and headed for the shower. He needed to forget this woman. He would never meet her again, so why obsess about her? Besides, he couldn't risk forgetting about Tess. No one should replace Tess. Not even the dark-haired beauty that would continue to haunt him when he went back to bed after his shower.


TBC...