Chapter Thirteen

For years, Max had believed the dead of night to be the quietest part of the day – when everyone was asleep, when the stoplights were turned off because the idea of traffic in Roswell became obsolete, and when the sizzle of the desert sun was replaced by the cool serenity of the moon. Now, though, he knew better. Dawn was true stillness. It was during the haze between night and day when their small part of the world ground to a halt. As if sensing the quickly approaching bustle, people slept heavier, deeper, and the nocturnal creatures which roamed the wilderness gave up their prowling ghost, retiring before the sun could give chase to their starlit shadows. It was in the anticipation of something new and noisy that time really did seem to grind to a halt, a blanket of lethargic stasis buffering his reality. In those brief moments between dark and light, that was when Max now found himself the most at peace.

The changes in his life certainly didn't hurt matters either. While he was glad for his jobs and enjoying school once more, Max knew that the real reason behind his newfound contentment was Liz – truly knowing her, kissing her, being with her. She was everything he had always wanted but never believed he'd be privileged enough to enjoy. Loving her and being loved in return by her made Max happy for the first time in his life, and it was during those preciously fleeting moments every day between when the dark of night faded into the light of morning when he found the world still enough to contemplate how lucky he really was. As he woke up from a night of dreaming about her or stumbled in silently from a night of being in her presence, sharing her company, Max always took a few seconds to acknowledge his gratitude.

"We need to talk."

In his alarm, Max stumbled back a step or two until he collided with the wall behind him, and it took him a moment to place the faceless tone coming from the depths of his family's kitchen. "Dad," he finally questioned, squinting into the near darkness, the only light barely slinking in from the room's west-facing windows. Max had been on his way towards the back of the house where the bedrooms and bathrooms were located when he had, what had felt like, been ambushed. Further pushing his senses into the space, he realized that his father wasn't alone, that there was a second presence there as well. "Mom?"

"Come in and sit down, Max," she told him remotely, without greeting or warmth.

"What's going on," he questioned. Suddenly realizing how strange their early morning meeting was, he jumped to conclusions, "what's wrong?"

"Like I said, son, there are some things we need to discuss."

He relaxed somewhat, reassured when his parents didn't immediately tell him some piece of bad news. Though he moved into the kitchen like they requested, he didn't sit down. "Listen, if this is about my grades, you guys don't have anything to worry about. I got my midterms back yesterday, and I passed them all with flying colors. Right now, I'm on track for a 4.0, but I really can't get into this with you right now. I need to be at work in half an hour."

Coldly, his dad ordered, "Maxwell, do as your mother told you and sit down. You're not going into the Crashdown today."

"What? Why not?"

It was his mother's turn to speak. "We called you off."

"You called me off," Max parroted, confused and then quickly annoyed. "Why would you do that? I realize that I've been busy lately, but, now, Jeff and Nancy are not only going to think that I can't handle my work load but that I'm too immature to handle my own affairs, that I had to have my mommy fight my battles for me. You should have come to me, and we would have scheduled a dinner or something."

"Scheduled a dinner or something," this time it was his mom who repeated his words. "Max, you are our son. This is getting out of hand."

"What is?"

"This...," she gestured wildly between the space separating them across the table. "You, your life again."

"Excuse me?"

"Son, the deal was that you would work at the Crashdown, run every morning with Jeff Parker, and that you would go to meetings with him as your sponsor. When Liz took over for her father when he no longer had time to run with you, that was one thing, but now there's a second job, and school, and a new sponsor, and you don't come home at night."

"I call," Max jumped in to defend himself. "I've never once stayed out and not told you first that I wouldn't be home."

"And let's talk about those phone calls, shall we," his mom prompted. "You're vague, Max. You tell us that you're staying over at a friend's place, and that's it. No name, no number as to where we can reach you. You haven't even introduced us to this friend."

Suddenly, he could sense where their conversation was headed, and Max shut down. Becoming detached, he said, "I didn't realize that I was supposed to."

"That's always been the rule, Max," his mother pressed on, "ever since you first went to school. The deal was that, if you wanted to spend the night at a friend's house, we had to meet the friend and his parents first."

Calmly, despite his frustration, he responded, "I'm not in elementary school any longer, and who said anything about this friend being a guy?"

His mom sucked in a harsh breath, and his father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is exactly what we're talking about, son. You've become secretive again. You're keeping things from us, lying, you're sneaking around, you're..."

"I haven't lied to you," he interrupted, defending himself. "Not once." Changing gears, Max asked, "where is all this suspicion coming from?" Narrowing his gaze in his parents' direction, he leveled his own accusations. "I thought you'd be proud of the initiative I've taken, that you'd be happy that I've taken back control of my life once again, and that you'd be pleased that I'm doing so well."

"But are you really, Max," his mom wanted to know. "It's like six months ago all over again. We gave you an inch, and you took a mile."

"No, what I thought you had given me was your trust back, and I decided to prove to you that you were right to do so." Standing up, he rolled his shoulders back so that he was standing up perfectly straight. "Just what exactly is it that you guys are trying to say to me?"

A fourth voice entered the fray, and Max's body swiveled to meet the eyes of the person who he just instinctively knew had startled the entire mess that he now had to deal with. "We want to know why a young man with no financial responsibilities suddenly feels its necessary to work not just one job but two, why you're all of a sudden so happy, where you spend your nights, and how you can possibly be functioning on so little sleep? Your parents told me, Max, that you're rarely home, that most mornings you only make it back in time to shower and change before work."

"You're still just making implications, Mr. Parker." He no longer felt that he could call Liz's dad by his first name. "If you want to accuse me of something, then do it."

"What are you on, Max? It's not alcohol this time, so what it is? Cocaine? Heroin? Speed?"

He laughed then, but the gesture held no signs of humor. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to his parents. "Let me guess what happened here. Mr. Parker came to you, told you of his suspicions, and, now, without even giving me a chance to defend myself, you're going to believe him."

"The signs are all there, son," his mom stated.

"And, in doing this, you've broken our trust and, more importantly, your promise to us to remain clean," his father picked up where she left off. "Consequently, we want you to pack your bags. Either you go to rehab this morning, or you leave this house and not come back until you're ready to do whatever your mother and I say."

"You're also out of a job, Max," Liz's dad added. "Don't even think about going to Nancy or my Lizzie about this either. You're no longer employed by or welcome in the Crashdown. As for Milton... well, I'm not sure what he's decided. I went to him yesterday, told him about your problems, and he said he'd think about them over night and make a decision. My guess is that he'll no longer want you working at the UFO Center. Finally, there's school to consider. While we can't get CCC to kick you out, your parents and I are going to go and speak with your advisor this morning. He needs to be kept abreast of your situation so that he can closely monitor you. Hopefully, though, you'll agree to your parents' demands, and we'll simply withdrawal you from your courses instead."

Despite everything the older man had said, he refused to look at Mr. Parker. Instead, Max kept his unblinking gaze upon his parents the entire time Liz's dad talked, his unwavering stare finally breaking them as they nervously glanced away. After several moments of tense, awkward silence while they waited for his response, he said, "well, then, I guess you leave me with no choice." And, with that, he turned around on his heels and marched out of the only home he'd ever known.

; : ;

For one of the first times in his life, Max Evans followed his instincts. He didn't second guess himself, he didn't do the opposite of what his intuition told him simply to spite his alien-ness, and he didn't question or doubt what his body, mind, and heart needed. In the blinding maelstrom of emotions which assaulted him after his parents' ambush, Max just... ran, but, unlike in the past, he didn't run away from his demons; he ran towards his salvation.

He knocked solidly on the door, knowing that she'd be alone, for her roommate generally stayed over at either her boyfriend's fraternity house or a friend's off-campus apartment, and knowing that, after just leaving her a few hours before, she'd be exhausted and sound asleep. It had taken what had felt like forever to get to her, but time slowed down even more as Max waited for the entrance to the dorm room before him to swing open. When it finally did, he knew that he was the last person she was expecting to see. Her greeting proved as much.

"If this is some sick RA's idea of a good time for a severe weather drill, then we are seriously going to have to consider orchestrating a coup to... Max," Liz questioned, relaxing immediately upon recognizing him only to lean against her doorjamb and rub tiredly at her sleepy eyes. "What are you... is everything okay?"

There were so many things he wanted... no, that he needed to tell her. He was upset about his parents – how they could so easily doubt him and turn against him when he had been doing everything within his power to prove to them, the town, and himself that he had changed; he was lost as to what he should do next, how he could possibly piece what had been his life just a mere few hours ago back together; and he was besotted by her adorable appearance – fuzzy slippers, teeny, tiny shorts which disappeared under one of his t-shirts she had already managed to confiscate and claim as her own, and what had to be the cutest head of bed hair he had ever seen. Instead, though, Max confessed the one thing that was bothering him the most, and, unfortunately, of all the burdens weighing down his broad shoulders – worries that he knew she would gladly bear with him, his admission was the one that scared him the most, the one that could very easily push her away from him for good.

"I wanted to hurt him, Liz. For a moment, I forgot everything: how my life depends upon my ability to keep my secrets, how hurting him wouldn't fix any of my problems, even you. He just... he tried to take everything away from me, and I wanted to do the same thing to him, only I knew that I could hurt him in ways he never imagined."

Immediately, the exhaustion fled from her delicate features, and another regret piled itself upon his conscience. For the first time since he fled his parents' house earlier, Max realized just how selfishly he had acted in running to Liz. She was a college freshman. Her life should have been nothing but school, making new friends, and having fun, but, instead, he dragged her down with him by laying his problems at her feet. There she was: tired and no doubt just a few hours shy of a jam-packed, loaded day, and, without a thought for her feelings, he pounded on her door, waking her up from her well-deserved sleep.

"Whoa, stop right there," she broke into his thoughts, making Max's gaze once more snap up to meet hers remorsefully. "I know that look. You look like you just kicked a kitten... one named Liz, but I won't let you do this to yourself, Max. You don't have to feel guilty for turning to me. That's what people do, especially when they're dating." Without giving him a chance to respond, she grabbed his arm and started pulling him into her room. "Now, come inside."

He followed her, quickly distracted when her grip slid from his forearm down to his hand so that their fingers could lace together. She led him to her bed, only turning around when she was close enough to lean against its raised platform. Without words, she undressed him – first his shirt and then his pants as he hastily kicked off his shoes and socks. All the while, Liz bit her bottom lip contemplatively, but Max was surprised to notice that her actions lacked the nervousness he would have expected. Though their relationship had been progressing steadily for the past couple of months – both emotionally and physically, she had yet to act so forward around him, and they had never completely been together. When he slept over, that's all they did: sleep, and, usually, they were at least partially dressed if not completely so. They kissed, and they touched, and they played, but there had been this unspoken agreement between them that they didn't need sexual intimacy to be close to one another... at least, not yet. Rather, they had elected to savor an achingly sweet yet no less torturously slow romantic build-up.

Once Max was left in nothing but his boxer-briefs, he slid his hands under Liz's arms, lifting her so that her body was flushed against him for several seconds before placing her bottom on the edge of her high twin bed. Usually, she had to use a stool to climb in at night... or whenever else she wanted to curl up amongst her cocoon of blankets and pillows, but Max found that he didn't want to be away from her for even a moment; he couldn't be. Immediately, she parted her legs, and he positioned himself between them, pulling her body even closer to the edge of the bed so that he was nestled in the cradle of her thighs.

In a whisper soft caress, he trailed his fingers down her bare things, circled her knees, and then slithered over her calves until he encountered the high-ankled, fuzzy slippers she wore. Teasingly, he pulled them off, tossing them over his shoulders only to make Liz laugh. By way of explanation, she offered, "my feet were cold without you here."

For a moment, he was tempted to just kiss her then, breaking the spell she had managed to so quickly weave around them and forget about his heart which, just minutes before, had been breaking into a thousand devastated, jaded pieces, but he tabled his ever-growing desire and need for the woman perched before him; his need to confide in her and have her comfort him emotionally was even greater. That didn't mean, though, that holding her nearly naked body close to him wouldn't be a comfort as well. So, with that thought in mind, his wandering hands left her feet and traveled back up to her hips, reaching for the hem of the large, baggy t-shirt she was wearing and, in one fluid motion, stripping it off her. She was bare beneath his shirt, her unbound breasts immediately puckering as the cool air brushed against them. As Max met her gaze, Liz never blushed or blinked once. Rather, she simply scooted back on the bed, leaned against the pillows resting against her headboard, and pulled him after her, settling them so that he sat between her legs and was leaned back against her, his head cushioned against her petal soft chest while her legs and arms wrapped themselves comfortingly around him. He was desperate to see her, though, too, so he twisted his torso around so that their gazes could lock, her compassionate mocha colliding with his wounded whisky-hued depths.

"Who did you want to hurt," she finally asked him, and the weight of his earlier confession settled down upon Max once more. Liz must have sensed him tense, because she immediately began to sooth him, her right hand brushing tenderly against the skin above his still rapidly beating heart, her fingers absently flickering against his nipple occasionally, while her left hand slid low against his middle – past his belly button, through the thin line of hair which led a trail down his abdomen, and then slipped under the band of his boxer-briefs. Suddenly shivering with need himself, Max realized how chilled Liz must be, so he reached forward to pull her various assortment of sheets, blankets, and comforters up around them, allowing them naturally to settle against their laps.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, he released it before confessing, "your father – I wanted to hurt your father." This time, it was her turn to tense, and she even gasped, too, but, instead of panicking, Max took a page out of her book and used his hands to sooth her before attempting to explain away his feelings towards her dad with words. He dropped his right hand beneath the covers, found the right leg opening of her shorts, and positioned his palm to cup the firm roundness of her bottom. By doing so, he determined that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Then, still twisted in order to see her face, Max leaned over and kissed the pouty tip of her left breast before lifting his left hand to idly stroke the underside of the creamy, pert flesh. He only used the pads of his fingers, but, this time when Liz gasped, it wasn't from horror but from pleasure.

"You don't have to worry, though. I didn't touch him. I never would, no matter what he did to me, because you love him."

"But what did he do to you, Max," she questioned curiously. He could also hear the slight note of fear which tinged her otherwise steady words. "Despite everything, I've never seen you lose your temper... not even around Kyle and his idiot friends. What could my dad have possibly done to make you..."

Interrupting her, he answered, "he convinced my parents that I'm no longer sober, only, this time, he has them thinking that I'm not just drinking but using drugs."

"Oh my god, Max," she softly lamented on his behalf.

"He fired me; talked to Milton, so I'll probably lose my job at the UFO Center as well; and he and my parents are going to talk to my advisor this morning. But, worst of all, my parents told me to get out, to not come back until I was ready to go to rehab." Sucking in a breath in order to regain control of his emotions, Max confessed, "I've never felt like I belonged anywhere, like I fit... until now. All these years, I was lost. While I appreciated everything my parents had done for me, there was this wall between us. Because of you, I was finally ready to let them in, and I was trying to make them proud of me, Liz, by holding down two jobs, by going to school and doing so well, by learning from you how to be a friend and put myself out there, but, now, that's all gone."

"I'm so sorry, Max," she whispered, dropping her head down to nuzzle his neck briefly before lifting her lips to his face. She didn't kiss his mouth, though. Instead, as she continued to murmur her apology over and over again, she brushed butterfly caresses against his forehead and his temples; his eyelids, his nose, and his cheek bones; his upper lip; his chin and his jaw. With every feather like touch of her lips against him, Max let a tiny piece of his sorrow go. Slowly, gently, Liz was healing him in the way that only she could.

She had finally dropped her mouth to his, and they had barely shared a brushing touch of their lips when a loud, frame-rattling pounding started upon her door and didn't let up; in fact, it just got worse, to the point where Max started to fear that the person on the other side would stop at nothing until they were granted entrance. It was with that thought that he realized who was standing in the hallway. "It's your dad," he muttered, for some reason not wanting Jeff to hear him.

Liz's reaction, on the other hand, was anything but tentative or nervous. Hastily but not roughly, she pushed away and out from behind him, scrambling down from her semi-lofted bed before he could stop her. "Good," she announced, hands on hips and looking, for all the world, like some ancient warrior princess about to go into battle. "There's a few things he and I need to get straight."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he called after her, jumping out of bed to wrap a tight arm around her waist and pull her back against his chest. "Don't you think you're forgetting something first."

After a comical pause, Liz dropped her gaze and regarded her own – and his – near nudity. "Oh."

"Here," he said, tossing her his shirt that she had been wearing when he arrived earlier. Then, he quickly scrambled into his jeans. By the time he had both legs in their proper holes, though, it was too late to put on his shirt, let alone actually button his pants, for Liz had already wrenched open her dorm room door. Even with her back to him, Max could tell that her eyes were blazing with acrimony. If possible, she was even more beautiful when in a temper.

"You," Jeff Parker bellowed, rudely pushing past his daughter and leveling an accusatory gaze and finger in Max's direction. "Get your clothes and get out of here. I thought I told you what would happen if you messed with my daughter."

Before he could get a word in edgewise, Liz was on the attack. "Oh, you certainly made yourself perfectly clear, but it's not like you can threaten Max with anything at this point, dad. You've already taken everything away from him."

Mr. Parker whirled around to face his daughter. "What do you know about...?"

"I know everything," she intervened, breaking off her father's question. "I know about the ultimatum you gave Max months ago to keep us apart, not that it worked. All it did was force us to sneak around rather than be upfront about our relationship. And, now, I know about the lies you told his parents, too."

"They weren't lies, Lizzie."

"I spend nearly every single night with Max, Dad," she snapped, glaring in the older man's direction. The two of them were so locked into their argument that they both had seemed to have forgotten his presence there... at least, momentarily. "He's not using drugs, and you know that, too. You're just scared of losing me, and that's alright, but it's not alright to take that fear out on Max. You destroyed his life today, and you destroyed the Mr and Mrs. Evans' lives, too. Yes, I turned to you for help back in the spring, but that was because I trusted you and believed that you were capable of putting someone else first before yourself. I guess I was wrong."

"You're damn right I'm afraid," Jeff fired back. "You have this whole, amazing future ahead of you, Lizzie, and I won't stand by and watch some punk kid ruin it. He already got you to forfeit your chance at Harvard; I won't let him hurt you anymore."

"Some punk kid," she repeated, snorting derisively. "Open your eyes and take a good, hard look at Max, Dad. Yes, he got himself into some trouble, but he's turned his entire life around. He's working two jobs in order to save for next semester when he transfers out here to be with me, because he doesn't want me to worry about having to work to help pay for our apartment. Plus, he's going to school. He's taking four courses, and he's acing all of them, not to mention the fact that he drives here every night after he's done with his classes to spend time with me, to help me study, to be my boyfriend."

"But Liz," he father tried to protest, but she wouldn't allow him to.

"But nothing. After everything that you did when you were Max's age, all the trouble you caused, and everything Grandpa put you through in order for you to be with Mom, you were the last person I ever thought would act this hypocritical."

"I just want you to be happy."

With this, Liz crossed the room and slipped into Max's arms. Although he didn't know what was going to happen next, he was awed by how she had defended him. "Max makes me happy, Dad." After giving him a quick squeeze, she turned her attention back to Mr. Parker. "You need to make this right. You need to fix what you broke between Max and his parents, with Milton, and you better stop Mr. and Mrs. Evans from talking to Max's academic advisor. If you don't, well... I don't think I'll be able to come home unless its just to see Mom, Alex, and Maria." Before Jeff could respond, Liz was quick to add, "and this isn't me giving you an ultimatum. I just... it's hard for me to look at you right now. I'm really angry and hurt, and it's going to take me some time, not to mention you making amends, before I can forgive you."

"So, basically, you're choosing him over me," he father questioned.

"No, Dad," Liz corrected him, slipping out of Max's arms and then moving across the room to open the door even wider, insinuating that it was time for Mr. Parker to leave. "You made that choice for me."

He left without another word.

Liz closed the door behind him, locked it, and then turned back to face Max. Removing her shirt, she then surprised him further by pushing down her shorts as well. With an impish smirk, she said, "let's go to bed."