AN: The last few letters have been linked, but that wasn't really the true intent of this exercise. After this one, I'm going to try to make these a bit more generalized Polar opposed to a specific story line. Although, knowing me, they'll still stick close to the story unfolding.


J is for Justification. He had counting the days down, just waiting for this moment, the time when Max would try to justify his actions to Liz and keep her firmly under his thumb. Max was so predictable by now and so adept at pulling the wool over his own eyes, wallowing in self-denial, that Michael could nail it down almost to the second. It was the same story, different day, just the players were different. Instead of Max justifying his actions to him or Isabel, it was Liz and Tess. Really it did get old after the hundredth telling.

"…it was hard to explain…almost like I couldn't control it…"

First Max would panic, knowing he'd done something wrong, but always unable to face up to the consequences of his actions, he'd shut down, flee and deny it ever happened. It wasn't real, it couldn't be real, he'd never do anything so thoughtless, so hurtful. After all, he was Max and Max always thinks things through, he is cautious and analytical and…well you get the picture. It's never his fault really, it was due to extenuating circumstances. Obviously.

"I mean, I was just drawn to her and I couldn't stop myself…"

Then, he'd brood. And when Max brooded, it was a several day process. He locked himself up into his room, put his favorite brooding music (Isabel swore if she heard that Counting Crows CD one more time, she was going to snap it in two) on and wallowed, mentally beating himself up, aghast at how his life had gotten so out of control. And this led to Michael's favorite part of the Max justification process…

"It was like being under a spell…"

It wasn't him. Really it wasn't, it couldn't be, because after all, Max is perfect – the perfect student, the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect best friend – he would never belittle or tear another person down (despite the fact that Michael and Isabel had been on the sharp end of that all too careless tongue several times). So, if it wasn't him, it had to be alien! Yes, that's it…it was an alien reaction; something else was governing him and well, if it were an alien quirk, of course he couldn't help himself. He didn't understand his past or biology, so how could he control it? Really it all made perfect sense – for a mental patient.

"I didn't even know she was going to be there…"

J is for Jealousy. Smirking to himself,he hovered quietly near the door, surreptitiously listening to the nervous babbling explanation, shaking his head in wonder. Sometimes he did hate being right. He had to admit, Max sold a good story when he really wanted. If he hadn't been on the receiving end so many times, he'd have even bought the act. So perfectly contrite, so perfectly humble, all the while a calculating and manipulative brain was processing his intended prey's actions and movements so he could effectively tailor his arguments and sob stories to the appropriate audience.

You had to give the man credit; he did know how to make himself look good no matter his foibles and slights. It was a skill Michael envied, never having been able to string words together as effectively. Words weren't his forte and he had never grasped the subtle art of making nice. No he had always been an act now, think later sort that believed that actions spoke louder than words. Which is probably why he never fell for the Max act. Words can lie, actions cannot.

"You have to understand…"

Soft tone, sweet words, a tremble to the voice – it was all effectuated, yet always seem to hit the target's mark. A slow, acidic burn built in his chest as he listened to Max spin his web, oh so carefully inviting his prey into his living room with false platitudes and promises, all the while knowing that he had been able to talk Liz around before and could very well make a believer of her once more. Max had to have been a politician in his past life or the equivalent of the used car sales man or snake charmer.

He just made it sound so good.

Bile rose in his throat, casting a sour note in the back of his mouth. It sickened him, ate him up in side that people fell for his lines over and over again; but more, that Liz fell for it time and again. She deserved better than condescending platitudes. An ill feeling swirled in his gut, adding to the fire, the burn of pure, unadulterated anger and jealousy blazed through his chest as he heard Liz humming and hawing as he stumbled through his story of the other night. He could almost picture her face, so sympathetic and understanding, the hint of tears in her eyes as she touched his hand softly, soothing is fears and telling him it was okay, she understood. It was enough to make one scream.

And then Max made a fatal mistake…

"It's you I care about…

J is for Jeer. The words seemed to echo through the room despite the fact it was barely more than a shy whisper. Even he had to wince at the blunder, knowing that it was a bad idea to state your feelings in such a lukewarm, apathetic way when you had just been avowing love and a lifetime together just days before. He may be repressed and stunted emotionally, but even he could hear the falseness to that statement and as astute as Liz is, she was bound to pick up on the halfhearted proclamation.

"Care about?" came the slightly incredulous musing, forcing me to repress a snicker. "Interesting how in the matter of days it's gone from love to you 'care about' me."

He knew that was going to snag her attention. There was no way that Liz was not going to see through that particular statement. One had to be blind not to pick up on the change in his stance on their relationship. It all but screamed 'Yes, I want you, but you know, the blonde is rather hot as well and I'm curious." Really Maxwell, you could do better.

"No, I mean…yes, of course I love you. I just meant..."

Ah, and here comes the backpedaling. So much for eloquence.

"Save it, Max," she firmly stated, pausing for a moment before continuing on in a wry, implacable tone. "Okay, so you felt a pull towards her, you couldn't resist her, she 'put a spell on you, or whatever you want to call it – they're called hormones. There is nothing mystical or alien about them. So, you're drawn to her. It's perfectly natural. It's okay, really. I get it, I really do."

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the dressing down. Is it any wonder he was enamored of the girl – intelligent, analytical, logical – it was refreshing.

"Liz, I knew you'd understand…"

He wouldn't bet on that.

"But, you still kissed her. Despite the fact that you told me I was the only one you wanted, you went right over to her and kissed her anyway. And if it happened once, it's likely to happen again. That is what I can't overlook."

J is for Jewel. She was rare, priceless; some would even claim she was a diamond in the rough, but he disagreed. Diamonds were far too plentiful, commercialized and lacked a certain panache, not to mention seemed flashy and cold. To him, she was more like an opal – a black opal – rare, precious, with hidden depths that burned in all the colors of the rainbow if you held it in the right light. A cool, quiet beauty at first glance, until you know what that placid façade masks, and far more enchanting than the glimmer and glitz that came with the more popular gemstone. It's a shame few get the opportunity to see them, to see what I see.

"It won't…I promise…"

"Don't make promises we know you can't keep Max."

She couldn't have been more right. Hadn't they for all intents and purposes made the same vows and promises, albeit silently rather than with words? It had failed miserably for them and given the fire in Max's voice when he mentioned Tess' name, he wouldn't have believed his words either. It was too easy to forget pacts made in the silence of night when everything you desire is standing right in front of you desiring the same.

"You don't know what might happen when you see her again."

Max's silence spoke for itself; it seemed to ring through the room with an honesty that even the most skilled story weaver couldn't contradict. And he remembered all to well where platitudes and avoidance had landed the two of them; he still burned from stolen kisses, ached for what should have never happened, intoxicated by the scent of vanilla and rain, haunted by the taste of strawberry, desire and forbidden dreams.

"I tried. I tried being what you wanted. When you said it couldn't happen, I tried to respect that, but you could never really leave me alone. I've given into your whims, compromised despite it hurting me, allowed you to step back twice…."

And yet, Max still could not see what had been staring him right in the face. Still couldn't appreciate the gem that he'd once held within the palm of his hand. He took her for granted; assumed that she would always understand; that she would be waiting in the wings while he dallied with destiny. But he'd always misunderstood her, never seeing the true beauty, the quiet strength that silently shone in those fathomless eyes.

Michael knew that he wouldn't make the same mistake.

"There is a lot I would have given up for you, but not my pride. I won't be second best to anyone. Not even for you."

J is for Judgment.