A/N: Sorry for the long absence. School is kicking my ass. Still, I promised myself to never leave a story unfinished. Hope people are still interested in this story.
Disclaimer: The usual.
Chapter: 3 Weathered
I lie awake on a long, dark night
I can't seem to tame my mind
Slings and arrows are killing me inside
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine
No, I can't accept the life that's mine
Max had always been a fan of Creed. However, he never so strongly identified with a song before, until now. He listened to it play on the radio while lying in the bed inside his apartment. He was momentarily distracted by rumble of thunder coming from outside. Turning his head towards the window, Max watched lightening streak across the darkened sky as rain poured down in buckets.
He thought briefly of Liz, and wondered if she were sleeping. Probably not. Not with downpour. Especially not if what she told him earlier that morning was the truth.
Max never thought of himself as a selfish person.
Yet, he never considered how the accident affected Liz. Or, how his disappearing for a year affected his family. All he saw, all he could see was his own pain, his own grief, his own loss.
Simple living is my desperate cry
Been trading 'love' for indifference, and yet it suits me just fine
Try to hold on but I'm calloused to the bone
Maybe that's why I feel so alone
Maybe that's why I feel so alone
Losing Tess and the baby brought out the worst in Max. He begun exhibiting characteristics he never even knew he possessed. He got into multiple fights and began drinking.
He drank a lot in those first few months after Tess's death.
And when he could no longer stand the saddened censoring eyes of his family, Max left. Simply disappeared. No warning. No telephone calls. Not even a text message in over a year to say he was still alive.
Did he feel guilty about this fact?
Maybe. Probably. But any guilt he felt was overshadowed by his grief over Tess, his burning anger at God, at the world. And as long as he felt this way, he couldn't be around anyone who cared about him…or anyone he cared about. Like his family, like Liz.
Me…I'm rusted and weathered
Barely holding together
I'm covered with skin that peels and just won't heel…
-&-
Liz tossed and turned in her bed trying to sleep. It was a futile effort considering the raging storm outside her bedroom windows. With a deep sigh, she rolled over and reached blindly for the remote control on her bedside table. Pressing the on button, she blinked as the plasma screen illuminated the previously darkened room.
As she flipped through station after station, her mind landed on the real source of her sleeplessness, Max Evans.
What was she going to do about Max?
Was it her place to do anything?
Maybe not.
But you couldn't love someone the way she loved Max Evans and do nothing. He needed…someone to care about what he was going through. To help him cope with it all. Someone to love him, despite his determination not to be loved.
If that someone couldn't be her, the very least she could do was notify his family he was back in town.
Decision made, Liz reached for the phone and dialed the Evans' Ranch. The number hadn't changed since high school. The phone rang one, two, three times. Liz was about to hang up when a sleepy female voice said, "Hello?"
"Umm, may I please speak to Mrs. Evans?" Liz stuttered. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought afterwards.
"Which one?" The voice asked, sounding slightly more alert.
Before Liz could reply, she heard an irritated Michael ask, "who the hell is it Maria? It's after three o'clock in the morning!"
"That's what I'm trying to find out Michael." Liz listened to her huff. On the verge of hanging up, Liz paused as Michael spoke into the phone.
"Who's this?" He asked belligerently.
Liz hesitated before saying, "I apologize for calling this time of night. But this is too important to wait." She knew she sounded overly dramatic but it was the truth.
"Is this—is that you Liz?" Michael asked confusedly. Followed by, "what can I do for you?"
"Actually, it's what I can do for you," Liz said in a rush. "I know where Max is."
The line went silent for a few seconds. "This isn't some kind of sick joke, is it?" Michael asked angrily.
Liz sighed. "I would never joke about something like this. More than anyone I know the grief your family has suffered."
"Where is he? How'd you find him?" The words shot from Michael's mouth in quick succession.
"On my way home from work I stopped at the Juan's Bar & Grill just outside of town. Max was there. Apparently mouthing his way into a slight concussion from some big bruiser."
"What!"
Liz jerked almost dropping the phone at Michael's sharp exclamation.
"He's fine Michael," she said soothingly. "I drove him to the hospital and then later to his apartment."
"What's the address?" Michael asked impatiently.
"It's the new complex on Cherokee Lane, apartment 6B."
"Thanks Liz," Michael breathed into the phone.
"You're welcome," she said just before hanging up. God, I hope I did the right thing.
-&-
The sun shines and I can't avoid the light
I think I'm holding on to life too tight
Max rolled over in bed and covered his face with his arm. It felt like he'd just fallen asleep, yet the sun glaring through the window proclaimed it morning. It was after eleven to be exact, Max noted while squinting at the bedside clock.
What did time mattered anyway?
He had nowhere to be. Nowhere he wanted to be. That wasn't true. He'd give almost anything to be with Tess and the baby right now. Even if it meant dying.
Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Sometimes I feel like giving up
Sometimes I feel like giving up…
Max wasn't suicidal. He just didn't care one way or another. With a bleak sigh, he rolled from the bed and went into the bathroom to shower for the day. We he was done, Max threw on a pair old jeans and a tee-shirt. He then padded barefoot towards the kitchen to make coffee.
Ten minutes later, he sat in his living room sipping coffee and watching the Maury Povich Show. Sometimes he needed affirmation that some people had it far worse than him. Sometimes he just needed a good laugh. Today was one of those mornings.
Max watched as yet another woman and man waited for paternity test results. "You are…not the father," Max listened to Maury say dramatically. He shook his head as he watched the young Latino woman run screaming from the stage as the accused father celebrated and the audience booed.
Max flicked the television off in disgust. He was about to head back to bed when there was a knock at the front door. Frowning, he trudged across the wheat colored carpet and swung open the door. There stood Liz Parker holding a bag smiling with uncertainty.
"I brought lunch," she said by way of explanation.
Stepping aside, Max allowed her to enter.
A/N: Once again I apologize for the long absence. Please review and let me know if anyone is interested in seeing this story completed.