Part 8 – A Well-Wrapped Gift
May 13th, 2005
1 : Dave
3:57pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 7 hours, 3 minutes
He honestly hadn't planned to be in Paris at the exact moment Liz Parker was attending the workshop for which she had come, but circumstances had taken him to the outskirts of France, and then a little further, into Paris. After his schedule had been suddenly cleared, he had decided to go. Not because he had any real interest in the workshop, but because he had a very real interest in seeing Liz out in the world. Just to get a chance to talk to Liz outside the compound. Outside of Max's earshot.
With both Isabel and Maria out spending a king's ransom on clothing, Dave was the only person in the room who didn't understand half of what was being said. His mind could follow, yes, but his mind wasn't really paying attention. At the podium, Allan Preston was receiving question after boring question about the incredible results he'd gotten from studying Max's metabolism, and Dave idly wondered if he should let Allan in on the secret, at least deep enough to be of assistance to Jake. Psychic powers could only push the scientific explanation so far. Allan had to know by now that what he had under the microscope was hardly human, psychic or otherwise.
In the front row, Liz was sitting, sandwiched between a really large woman, and a really large man. She looked so small she could have passed for a teenager. Not for the first time, Dave wondered how the weight of the world would feel on such small shoulders. According to Earth's politics, she was Antar's current queen. But what did he know about Antar's politics? He slowly smiled. It didn't really matter at this particular moment. As long as she kept Max human enough, Dave would not argue either way. She was Max's anchor to this world, and for that, Dave would do anything for her safety.
The place was packed, and when refreshments were announced, the entire room stood up at the same time. It would seem that the genetics community did not feed their scientists well, Dave mused, as he barely managed to get outside without being crushed.
Allan never noticed he was there, since about a hundred people wanted to have a word in private with him while the break lasted. Liz, on the other hand, spotted him as soon as she was able to get out of the sea of people.
Her eyes widened, and she stopped in the middle of the room. Then, composing herself, she walked straight to him.
"Checking that we're following instructions and being good girls?" Liz asked, and not exactly in a kind way.
"I was in the neighborhood," he smoothly replied, that being somewhat the truth. "How's the workshop going?" he asked politely and, for a moment, Liz's eyes glimmered with the excitement of her achievement. Then it passed.
"Good enough. I'm sure Allan's going to be thrilled you came," she said without much emotion, turning to look at the mass of people surrounding their friend.
"I'm sure, once he gets a chance to see me above all those eager colleagues of his," he pointed out with a movement of his head, while skillfully hunting for a mini-sandwich with his right hand from the tray of one of the waiters. Liz turned to look, her face filling with despair. It meant she had no convenient excuse to get away from him.
"I'm not here to kidnap you," Dave said softly.
"Are you sure?" Liz asked, turning to look at him again, "because two years ago you could have fooled me."
It had never been easy to talk to any of them alone, but he really couldn't ask for warm smiles and blind trust. Jake had told him so.
"I wanted to see how you were doing," Dave explained as Liz narrowed her eyes again at his sentence. "It was supposed to be a trip with Max. It's turned out to be a trip with Maria and Isabel. I wanted to make sure everything was to your liking."
He sounded so formal to his own ears. Maybe because he had been thinking that Liz was royalty. Maybe because she didn't look like a scared teenager anymore, rather like a woman who was following one of her dreams, knowing the world was at her feet. At least it would be once he was out of the picture.
"We… we're having fun," she reluctantly admitted. "Paris has so much history, so much to offer…" she said, trying to not get carried away. Trying to not have a polite conversation with him.
"I was your age when I first saw Paris. I found it so intimidating," Dave started, hoping for some sort of exchange. If Liz didn't talk to him, how was he supposed to gauge her mood? To get some truthful answers?
"You were a lot of things at my age, huh?" she said, evading his bait.
"Yes. But a geneticist wasn't one of them. So tell me, do you enjoy the field? Now that you have had the opportunity to see what it is like for real, with a good project and a great mentor to open the doors…" he trailed off. This time, Liz couldn't keep her excitement at bay. Her eyes sparkled and didn't lose the wonderment when she started to talk. Bingo. He'd just found the right conversation.
2 : Max
9:19am US
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 41 minutes
"Missing the missus?" Henry genially asked as Max entered the north wing, where genetic projects were researched. With graying hair and a growing belly, Henry was the only one around who knew exactly what Max was working on here: Liz's present.
"Yeah…" he shyly said, resisting the urge to stick his hands in his pockets. He hadn't told anyone what he was doing, until Jake had called him the day after Liz had gotten her plane tickets to Paris, and Max had had to use his secret as an alibi.
"Well, how's it going?" Henry asked, getting closer to Max's station.
Max had been working on his roses for a very long time, certainly longer than he'd expected, although not really all that long as these things went. He also had to pick a name for his rose; all he really knew was that it would be Liz-related, but nothing seemed right. Now, staring at his newest batch, he sighed. The rose still had to bloom so he could see if he'd gotten it right this time around.
"I'm not sure. She's arriving in two days, so I hope it'll bloom right this time," Max said, trying to not get his hopes up.
"What is it about roses that drive the chicks nuts?" Henry asked, "All we ever get are those nasty gashes while you're trying to hand them to her. How's your hand?"
The problem with Henry was that he liked to talk. A lot. And usually Max was okay with it, especially since he couldn't talk about his own life all that much and certainly not all that openly. But about six days earlier, he'd gotten a not so nice cut from the thorns. Something he could have healed in two seconds had needed to stay there for as long as it took for his skin to heal because Mr. I Saw It All had been asking about it. Max was grateful for the concern, but not for the attention. It would have been hard enough to explain to Liz without giving himself up had she been around.
"Good, good," Max said, looking at the buds starting to unfurl. It took him a heartbeat to realize that, so far, they were perfect. "It won't even scar if I'm careful," he finished without taking his eyes from those baby roses, letting himself hope he'd finally managed the right one. He still needed a couple of days for it bloom, and then to see how long it would live, and what kind of fragrance it would have, but at least, at this moment, Max basked in his partial triumph.
"Well, that's looking pretty good, huh?" Henry enthusiastically said. "See what happens when you use my spray?"
Henry's work was a mystery to Max in many ways, but the one Henry had been most proud of had been his "spray". It was something like an elixir for plants, helping them grow faster. It was in its final stages before revealing it to the whole wide world next month. If everything was right, Henry would earn millions, and feed millions of hungry people as well. At least, that's what Max had gathered from all the chatting.
"Yeah…" Max agreed, turning to look at his other pots. God, he'd spent so, so much time hoping the roses were the right gift, that now that he was so close he started having second thoughts. He was afraid he'd done something wrong; or Henry would unleash some deadly rose virus; or worse yet, tomorrow morning, when he came back, the roses wouldn't have survived. Leave it to him to create a one day rose.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Max closed his eyes and found his inner self. Zan loved to fret. Loved to worry about millions of things. Max loved to worry, but he didn't fret. At least not about roses and a potential success turning into failure. Jake had said he had to let these memories come, but when all he got were disjointed feelings that had little to do with his own temperament, he felt lost.
"Are you okay?" Henry tentatively asked, placing a hand on Max's shoulders.
"Yeah, yeah. Just hoping I did everything right," he half-truthfully answered.
"Don't worry," the larger man said with a grin on his face. "You loved them right, they are going to grow up right. You just have to wait a couple of days to see them in full bloom."
No, I don't, Max thought, his right hand twitching with the effort of not reaching for the rose bud and make it bloom in ten seconds or less.
Henry playfully sprayed his rose—and him—with that perpetual grin on his face. Two seconds later, Max sneezed. "Bless you. Anyway, just for luck!" Henry said, spraying one more time, this time to Max's other roses. "It's an upgraded formula. You'll love it."
Max doubted it. His nose still tingling, his mind returned to the fact that he could make them bloom. Just not with an audience. "You know, I forgot something in my apartment, I'll come back in a minute," he excused himself, taking one of the potted rose plants with him.
There were no hidden corners where he could stop and work his magic without the risk of being seen or recorded, so Max diligently walked south towards his apartment, the pot held fiercely in his hands. Names for the rose were running through his mind, forming, discarding, shaping up again. Halfway through the north wing, Jake turned the corner, leaving Max with no choice but to say hello.
"That's the reason Paris had to wait?" Jake asked, curious at the tall rose buds in Max's hands.
"Yeah… I… want to see them bloom, but I couldn't make that happen with Henry watching over my shoulder."
Jake understood perfectly Max's reasoning behind his actions, and for some reason, shared his enthusiasm as well. "My lab is just around the corner," he offered. "I'll be delighted to see it bloom under your hand."
Max didn't say no, so his silence was interpreted as a yes. Jake excitedly went ahead of him. What Max had wanted as a private moment to either mourn or celebrate his success—or lack thereof—had now turned into yet another test. Jake never got tired of seeing them "perform", as Michael put it. Yet Jake was their best ally, and Max was not going to let his anguish over his rose get in the way.
"We'll have to stay in my office. One of my colleagues asked me for some equipment so he's sorting things out in my lab," Jake explained, showing his White Card to the reading sensor on the wall. The door opened, and in Jake went, Max following close behind.
Jake went for the coffee table and sat down on the couch, expectantly. Max went to the couch directly opposite him, and placed the pot on the table in between the two of them. They both silently stared at the rose for a few seconds.
Taking a deep breath, Max pictured the flower opening, and nothing else. He could inadvertently change its color by picturing what he was hoping to see, and he so did not want that. That had been the biggest reason he had not used his powers as often as he had wanted. He needed the roses to be true, not something he had manipulated that might or might not work with the next batch.
Placing his hand over the bud, he very carefully let his energy flow from his palm into the flower, hardly daring to breathe. Slowly, the bud he'd chosen opened up, its pearly white petals slightly lined with a silvery edge. The very center was a dark pink. It was visually perfect, indeed, and when that fragrance reached his nose, Max finally grinned, and barely restrained himself from shouting in joy.
"That's beautiful," Jake admired, smiling and obviously approving of the flower, not just the power used behind it.
"This is worth Paris," Max proudly declared. "Or at least I hope it'll be once Liz sees it…" he amended, trying to picture Liz opening it. He could make any rose look like this by the flick of his wrist, so he had to make sure Liz knew exactly how much work had gone into it when he'd done it the "human" way.
"Oh, that girl has more brains than you and me together, so I'm sure she'll know what it's worth," Jake said, standing up. "This deserves celebration! I'll bring the bubbly!"
Jake disappeared inside the lab before Max could remind him he couldn't drink champagne. On the other hand, he guessed his drunken self would be delighted at what he had in front of him.
He touched the rose with infinite care. So soft, he thought, his hand descending, his mind already deciding he wanted to keep this rose concealed somewhere as a reminder that true love could survive even in the harshest of circumstances. Even underground.
Even here.
The thorn cut Max's index finger, and it stung. Hastily retreating his hand, Max hissed. He'd cut himself several times during his life, of course, even while working with his roses, but never had it burned the way it did now. A thick drop of blood swelled in his finger as Max turned his hand palm up, intending on sealing the wound and stopping the sting. And then he froze.
A rash was spreading from the angry cut as fast as he could follow it with his eyes. But it was just a scratch, Max thought fleetingly as an intense burning followed on the heels of the rash, expanding throughout his body with no mercy. Scared and in pain, Max tried to stand up to get to Jake, but he never made it. His throat closed. Green, spidery lines zigzagged in his arm as Max collapsed on his hands and knees, trying to get air, trying to get someone's help. His chest was on fire, and his eyes started watering by the sheer terror of not being able to breathe.
Something crashed in front of him, dark, green glass pieces reaching his hands, along with the bubbling champagne. Strong hands took him by the shoulders and rapidly guided him to the couch. If Jake said anything, Max didn't know. He met the older man's eyes with panic, his hands reaching for his throat.
He didn't think he was going to die. He knew it.
3 : Liz
4:31pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 29 minutes
The hall was getting emptier as the presentation was about to resume. Besides Dave and herself, there were a couple of people still devouring the mini-sandwiches and cocktails as if there were no tomorrow.
For the past half hour, she'd been talking with Dave about her involvement in Allan's projects. She was nothing more than a glorified assistant, she'd honestly said, but she also wanted to know if there was any way she could get a real degree. She knew Harvard was out of the question, but… something?
As Dave was considering her question, Liz saw that they were now the last people standing outside. Watching the wooden doors close, she bit her lower lip. She really wanted to get inside and hear the second part of Allan's answers to the public's eager questions. She'd thought she knew them all, but Allan had surprised her.
She turned back to Dave to tell him they had better go in, and somewhere between glancing at the doors, and glancing at the man, the whole world disappeared into a black abyss.
Blindly, she stumbled forward, her throat closing without warning or mercy, her eyes instantly burning. An eternity later, someone caught her by the shoulders, bringing her out of the dark, bringing air back to her lungs, even if her eyes wouldn't stop running.
"Liz?" Dave was shaking her, hard. How long had she been lost in that place? Had that been a vision? Her hands started to sting, and the feeling rapidly extended through her skin. No, she realized with terrifying certainty, That wasn't a vision.
"Max," she whispered, seeing, but not seeing, Dave. "Oh my God, Max!" she all but screamed as she tried to free herself from Dave's grip. She had to go to Max, she had to do something!
Dave didn't let her go. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a restrained voice, furtively looking around.
"Max," she answered, her voice choking, "Max is dying!"
4 : Jake
9:37am US
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6hours, 23 minutes
He doubted it just for a moment. Jake was no stranger to anaphylactic shock, but he'd never imagined in a million years that one of his hybrid friends would suffer from it. In fact, he'd been so sure that it couldn't be the case, that he'd instantly ruled it out. Only to reconsider a second later.
Max's eyes pleaded for help as his hands reached for his chest. Almost on automatic, Jake reached for his epi-pen and took it out of his pocket. He hadn't used one in two years, his last brush with nuts a constant reminder of how fragile his life could be. Now he jabbed it in Max's leg, releasing the epinephrine into his bloodstream, his mind racing ahead of what he had to do in order to stabilize his newfound patient.
Max breathed in like a man coming from underwater, and gripped Jake's shoulders. Electric green lines flew through his hands, his neck sporting one hell of a rash.
"Stay calm, Max, this is going to pass," Jake tried to sooth him, helping Max to stand up, wanting to get him into the lab. Max shook his head as he tried to walk, his eyes streaming.
"I'm burning up," he strained to say, looking at his hands a second, and—letting Jake go the next moment— he tried desperately to get his clothes off.
What is this? Jake thought as he steadily guided Max through the door to the lab, while Max fought with his own clothes, blindly trusting Jake's direction. Max could just wave his hand and do it faster, but Max's mind was not thinking straight. Fear seldom allowed one to think straight.
"What the hell…?" a voice asked, coming from the other corner of the lab. They weren't alone. Of course they weren't alone. Gregg was there, borrowing some of his equipment for an experiment next week. Jake was both relieved and annoyed. Deciding a second pair of hands helping out was better than dealing with this crisis alone, he reached the decision to ask for Gregg's help.
"He's having some sort of allergic reaction. Maybe a toxic one. I'm not sure," Jake rapidly explained as he helped Max to lie on an examination table.
Max was panting. He'd managed to tear off his jacket, his shirt, and had gotten half his jeans off, and his hands still wanted to reach down and finish undressing himself.
"Calm down, Max," Jake said firmly. "Just concentrate on your own body, and help it to fight this."
Max stopped struggling with no little effort. Shutting his eyes tightly, he fought to get his breathing under control, his hands clenching and unclenching from the effort of staying still.
"He needs to go to the sick bay," Gregg pointed out as Jake headed for one particular spot on the wall. Once he hit that button, the whole compound would go on quarantine. Ironically, he didn't do it because Max might be contagious, but because Michael was somewhere in those halls, and whatever agent or toxin had attacked Max, was potentially going to attack Michael as well.
An alarm sounded twice, and that was the only signal Jake needed to know that the compound was being sealed off. Somewhere, in his office, his phone started to ring. By the floor, Max's cell phone started to ring too. Both phones were thoroughly ignored.
5 : Michael
9:41am US
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 19 minutes
He was trapped in the gym. He'd been too far away from Max, and the unexpected shut down just fried his nerves to the breaking point. Five minutes ago he'd felt Max's agony. Now, staring at the double doors that wouldn't open, a chill ran down his spine. He'd heard the alarm, hardly remembered why it mattered and now, standing here, knowing Max was in danger, all Michael could do was blow the goddamn doors to kingdom come and help him. So he stood in front of them and concentrated on tearing them apart.
Nothing happened.
Two minutes passed before he realized why. The doors were made of depleted uranium, a heavy atom he could not manipulate. For the first time since they had arrived, Michael understood how trapped they really were. There was absolutely no way Michael could get out. There was absolutely no way he could reach his king.
6 : Maria
4:43pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 17 minutes
"Isabel, calm down!" Maria said as Isabel practically crawled inside the taxi. They were heading to the airport. She didn't know what Isabel had felt from Max, but she did know what she'd felt from Michael. There was an ocean between them, and yet she could feel his emotions as if he were trapped in that taxi along with them.
She'd been trying to reach Liz every single minute since Isabel had all but collapsed on the sidewalk, barely controlling herself to not shout Max's name. About three minutes later, Michael's brick wall had shattered against her. Whatever it was, Liz had to know it. The obvious logical step was to take the next plane to the US. God, if only Liz would pick up!
7 : Max
9:47am US
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes
He wouldn't be able to take it for much longer. Every single sensation his body had was hell. His skin burned, his hearing was so sharpened that every movement Jake and the other man did was screeching on his inner ear. The clinical smell of the lab made him nauseous, but worst of all was the light.
"Turn it off," he pleaded, too loud for his ears yet, it seemed, too low for Jake's. Jake ignored him as he took his blood pressure, the cuff feeling like an iron grip. The stranger stabbed him with a needle, and Max could feel how the cold IV went through his veins. He gritted his teeth, desperately trying to get a hold of his overstimulated senses so he could do something about the light.
"It's going to pass," Jake's voice thundered, sticking the darn circular sensors on his chest to monitor him. They burned him even more, and all he wanted to do was to rip them off. "Turn it off," he pleaded again, the light coming through his eyelids impossible to evade. He was on the edge of losing control. He would just obliterate the goddamned lights and be done with it. "Turn it off," he begged, wishing Jake would just comply.
"Listen, Gregg," Jake said, oblivious to what his voice was doing to Max's mind, "there are going to be unusual things happening here…"
Jake placed his hand on Max's face, which Max tried to escape. It was futile. Jake shone a light on Max's right eye, and Max just lost it.
8 : Liz
4:47pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 13 minutes
"Turn them off," Liz whimpered as Dave paced in front of her, trying to call Jake in one hand, talking with Ray in the other. She was seated in the deserted hall, riding Max's agony along with him. And the lights! God, just turn off the lights!
"What do you mean you're on lockdown?" Dave said harshly.
Her phone kept vibrating. She kept ignoring it. She knew it wasn't Max on the other side, and that was all she needed to know. She'd given up calling him when she no longer had been able to withstand the hall lights.
"Get me Jake!" Dave all but roared, forcefully pacing in front of her.
"Turn them off," she said again, shutting her eyes even tighter. They stung, and tears started flowing freely again. Dave stopped in front of her, frowning. He looked around, looking for her source of distress.
"Max…" she whispered, her mind reeling from the sensation. Her skin started to tingle but not in a good way.
"Ray…" Dave said, fearful. Liz looked up at him, as if they both knew something terrible was just about to happen. The lamps began to flicker. Dave didn't take his eyes off hers. Not even when all the lights in the hall shattered.
9 : Jake
9:53am US
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 7 minutes
Jake and Gregg froze when the lights shone more and more intense. Up to this moment he had ignored Max's words in favor of getting data to treat him, and now it was obvious he'd made a terrible mistake.
"Gregg…" he warned, looking up. Max had gone very still, fists clenched, even his breathing suppressed. In his office, his phone kept ringing nonstop. The lights in the room flickered once, and then, without any other warning, exploded. Jake launched himself to cover Max while Gregg raised his arms over his head and ducked. Debris rained on them, and under him, Max took a harsh breath. The emergency lights came on a second later, everything looking washed out.
"What the hell…" Gregg whispered, slowly standing up.
"It burns…" Max whispered in agony. Jake stared at him, frowning, and then he hastily got off Max just in time to see the sheet under Max's hands ignite.
Gregg backed up so fast he collided with the wall, while Jake grabbed Max's discarded shirt and swatted at the fire.
"Max! Stop this!" Jake yelled; Max winced in pain. Whatever the hell this was, Max was not going to stop until someone made him stop. It felt like an eternity, but the fire finally extinguished, due partly to his own efforts, and partly to Max's. Jake looked at him and saw that Max was barely regaining some understanding of what he was doing. He looked scared, and barely in control, but he held Jake's eyes for a second, fully aware of what he had just done. Then the awareness froze, and Max's eyes slowly closed.
"What the hell is he?" Gregg asked, panting, a syringe stuck in Max's leg. Gregg had sedated him, and Jake couldn't decide if this was better or worse.
10 : Liz
4:58pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 6 hours, 2 minutes
"We're going to the airport. Arrange departure in two hours. Traffic is going to be murderous," Dave said over the phone. Liz barely registered they were riding the elevator down. Somewhere, up there, Allan Preston kept giving his lecture, answering questions. She idly wondered who was going to tell him she was gone.
She felt numb, as if someone had awakened her in the middle of the night, and now all she wanted to do was to sleep. She didn't feel anything coming from Max, and that was starting to break her bubble; starting to make her worry. She felt cold creeping along her back, and she shivered, wishing for a coat. Her phone kept vibrating, and she finally, automatically, answered it.
"Liz!" Maria shouted on the other side, "What the hell is going on?"
"We're going to the airport," she simply said, "Dave is arranging our plane…"
"We're going there, too. Isabel is freaking out. Michael is freaking out. We can't get a hold of him, we couldn't get a hold of you!" she accused, though it took Liz a couple of seconds to process that. The lights no longer hurt, but the fire alarm started shrilling just as she and Dave were crossing the lobby. Her scientific mind guessed the smoke from the lamps she had obliterated had finally triggered the alarm.
Dave grabbed her cell phone as they reached the main entrance, and started talking with Maria about where she and Isabel had to go, and how they were going to meet him. Liz hardly listened. If it wasn't about Max, she didn't need to listen.
She abruptly stopped on the entrance stairs then, eyes going wide as her mouth slightly opened. In front of her, above the lobby entrance, was the most glorious, realistic painting of an orange sunset. Her sunset. It was the same landscape, the same vivid reds and oranges she always pictured in her recurrent dream. There were no roses, and certainly no Max, but her heart broke all the same. Her dream had been a warning all along.
She almost sank to her knees, but Dave managed to keep her walking, guiding her to the passenger door as his car was delivered by the valet. She sat in stunned silence as Dave gave her the phone back.
"You. Have been keeping things from me," he stated simply as he started the engine. She didn't care. God, all she cared about was Max, and Dave couldn't drive fast enough.
Nothing was happening fast enough.
11 : Dave
5:11pm Paris
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 5 hours, 49 minutes
"I'm getting a message from Jake," Ray said over the phone. Dave waited, glancing at Liz, who was staring out the window. "He says I have to make sure Michael's all right. From what I can see on the monitors, he wants to tear the doors down…" Ray trailed off.
"Go. Follow Jake's instructions." Dave ended the call, and stared at the traffic light in front of him. Gathering his courage, he managed to voice his biggest concern now. "Can you bring the plane down?"
Liz didn't react at first, so Dave turned to look at her. "We are going to be flying for over eight hours. If I need to leave you here, I will."
She didn't turn, but he saw her slightly flinch.
"He's… Max is no longer… I think he fainted," she whispered, a half-profile all he could see of her face.
"That came from Max?" Dave asked, his eyes on the traffic. Liz didn't answer. "Elizabeth?" he scolded sternly. He had never called her by her full name, but he was feeling now the same way he did whenever Sybelle had done something stupid.
"It… partly… came from Max," she whispered, finally turning to look at him, her eyes filling with tears. He ignored them.
"Partly from you, then…" He restrained himself from gripping the wheel and concentrated on getting to the airport.
"You already knew about our connection…"
"I didn't know it could blow up lamps. We thought—Jake and Ray and I thought—that at best you would get a reading on his moods. At worst, neither of you would have any privacy. Now you're shattering lamps while Max… God! What's happening to him?"
This time he did grip the wheel, to hell if he was shattering the illusion that he was calm and in control.
"Don't you think I want to know that, too?" Liz shouted back, tears streaming down. "I don't know! I don't even know if he's dead right now! I never wanted to come! He was not supposed to get shot! If I kept him away—if I kept him away, he was not supposed to get shot…" she finished above a whisper, no longer angry at Dave but at herself.
What are you talking about? Dave wanted to shout back, but not now. Not when Liz was lost in some inner conflict. Not when neither of them knew what had happened to Max.
His phone rang.
"Tell me he's alive," Dave said, wanting to hear the answer from Jake. Ray would only have one sentence. Jake would use a whole lot more. As he put the cell phone on speaker, Liz's eyes locked with his for an instant.
"He is," Ray answered, "but Jake is not giving us any answers. I don't know what's going on in his lab, but Max is under quarantine, and Michael is not happy about it. At all."
They both released a long breath. "Is everything ready at the airport?" Dave asked, turning a corner, mentally searching for the fastest way to get to his destination.
"Not yet, but give it another half hour." Nodding as if Ray could see him, Dave hung up. Liz sagged in her seat.
Neither of them said anything else. They arrived at the airport, returned the rental, and went to the waiting room. He never let her out of his sight, but he didn't ask questions, either. They had a nice, long, private flight ahead of them. He would get his answers then. He just had to wait a little longer.
T minus 6 years, 5 months, 20 days, 4 hours, 37 minutes
