CHAPTER 22
Max

Max's third seizure happened when he was alone in his apartment. His body had by now learned to recognize the pre-tell signs of what was about to happen. So when he felt the coldness wash over him as he put his toothbrush into the glass by the sink, he knew what was going to happen but didn't have time to do anything about it.

His head hit the hard porcelain sink as he collapsed and blood sipped out of the consequential wound as his body slumped to the white bathroom floor.

This time, there was no experienced and medically trained colleague or worried sister around. This time, there was no one to support or angle his head so that he wouldn't choke on his own saliva.

Fortunately, he had landed face down this time.

If he had been a regular human being, he would have seen a doctor about his seizures right about now. If he had been a regular human being, he might already be on strong anti-epileptic medication to decrease the risk of reoccurrences. But he was a hybrid between alien and human DNA, with red blood cells that took on a green hue under the magnifying effect of the microscope pumping through his veins and fueling his human brain cells in a very non-human way.

In the end, this increased brain activity was the origin to his seizures in an almost ironic case of pot meet kettle. This highly oxygenated brain enabled Max to heat up cold coffee, shave without using a razor, get glimpses of the future and cure cancer. The convulsions was an unfortunate side effect of the limits to his very humanly constructed brain. Humans were not supposed to be able to see the future, even if the alien part of him would try its best.

In this Tuesday evening special of foreshadowing, Max watched himself become part of the equation as the premonition wound him back to a different starting point than previously.

He was, as usual, unable to affect his environment as he found himself standing in the middle of Isabel's workplace. The people were buzzing around him, unaware of his presence. Trying to get a sense of what he was doing there, Max was interrupted by himself, stepping out of the elevator. He watched how nervous this future version of himself looked, walking with purposeful steps towards one of the back offices. The invisible Max decided to follow.

His future replica stopped in front of the wooden door marked with 'Elizabeth Parker' and his shoulders rose shakily as he took a deep breath. Then he knocked.

"Yes?"

Max slipped in between the door and the doorframe as his more solid copy nervously walked into the room.

"Max," Liz said quietly, looking up from behind a huge desk. "Now is really not a good time."

"Liz, please," Max said softly.

Max didn't envy his future self. Liz's evasive movements, the signs of fear in her eyes, was unnerving. "I can't do this right now, Max. I'm working."

"I know," future Max said apologetically. "But I have to explain myself."

"It's just too weird." She was refocusing on the papers in front of her, as if he would disappear if she wasn't looking at him.

"There's things I can tell you. But not yet."

She looked up, hurt in her eyes. "Then why are you here?"

His future self ignored the question, evading it in a way that he knew so well. After all, he was watching himself lie. "Do you really think that I have an explanation as to why you seem to be able to feel what I feel?"

Her eyes were hard. Unrelenting. "Yes."

Crap, Max thought. This is close to the present. This is our first conversation after that disastrous end to our date the other night.

"Why do you think I have more information than you?"

She shrugged. "Just a feeling."

He could see himself getting frustrated and he knew why. Liz wasn't buying it. Liz was seeing right through him and she wouldn't let him in before he told her the truth. But he couldn't tell her. In the best case scenario, she would have him locked up in a mental institution. Worst case scenario, he would be the government's newest guinea pig.

"Liz, it's important that you don't leave work alone tonight."

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Liz stilled. "What?"

"Just take my word for it, okay? I can't explain it right now, but you're in danger."

She was frowning, wearing a confusing expression of anger and fear. "You better tell me right now…"

Future Max shook his head.

You're about to break down, man, Max thought as he watched himself sway slightly on the spot.

"I can't. It's not only up to me."

Liz stared at him and then started collecting her papers into a pile, before standing up with the pile in her hands, moving quickly towards the door, while angrily mumbling, "This is ridiculous."

Future Max reached out for her at the same time as invisible Max as she passed between them. The hand of the observing version of Max went through air while his alter ego grabbed Liz by the upper arm. "Please,Liz."

She stopped and said calmly, "Don't touch me."

"Liz…"

"Max," she interrupted, looking straight at him. "Without an explanation, your 'warning' mostly sounds like a threat. I barely know you, what if you're the danger?"

He shook his head and removed his hand. "I'm not."

"I don't appreciate being lied to, especially not about something that… something that might jeopardize my life as you so quickly want to warn me about. If my life really were in danger, isn't that reason enough to tell me why that is?"

"Just trust me."

"I'm sorry, Max," a tear of disappointment slid out of her eye and the observing Max withered under her pain.

Max grabbed her hand as she was about to pull the door open. She stopped, looking down at their connected hands. "Don't be alone tonight, please. Would you do this one thing for me? Just trust me."

She looked up and stared at him for the longest of seconds before she pulled her hand away. "Okay. I'll find someone."

Future Max seemingly collapsed with relief while Observing Max wanted to sit down on the floor in knee-buckling reprieve.

But that's not how it had happened afterwards, because the world changed around him and Max found himself back on that dark empty street, hearing the approaching running steps of her high-heeled shoes. For some reason, she had left alone that night, against his pleading warning. And now he had to watch her die. Again.

Max had come to on his tiled bathroom floor, in a small pool of his own blood. With a pounding headache, it was a wonder he had managed to return to consciousness. But Max was worried that wonder might not last much longer. With what seemed a monumental effort he managed to pull his cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed the person listed at the top of his 'Favorites'-folder.

"Isabel," his sister answered after four very long rings.

"Iz," he croaked.

"Max?" There was instant worry in her voice and Max knew that she understood the severity. Isabel went straight into action. "Where are you?"

"I'm hurt," Max mumbled. His tongue felt heavy, his eyelids were begging to drop. "I'm home. Bathroom. Alone."

"I'll be right there."

He never registered her hanging up, the phone slipping out of his grip as he floated back into the world of the Unconscious.

Next thing he knew, Isabel was shaking him and her voice covered him on all sides. "Please, Max. Wake up."

"Iz?"

Her worried, tear-streaked face come into view and she whispered, "Hey."

Max said the first thing that came to mind, considering that his head was pounding, "I'm hurt."

"Yeah," Isabel whispered, "Hard to miss." She was referring to the blood. The blood that had started to dry on the floor and on his face. "Can you heal yourself?"

He just wanted to sleep. It was not possible for him to heal himself in this condition. His reply became a painful groan.

"Okay," Isabel whispered, frenzy in her voice. "Okay."

Max closed his eyes. "I can, but you have to help me."

He missed the relief on her face. "What? Tell me what to do? Max, I can't lose you."

She started sobbing, barely containing the fear any longer. Finding your brother bleeding and unconscious on a white bathroom floor will do that to a person.

"You have to feed me energy." He managed to move his hand to the edge of his head wound and Isabel, seeing his intention, rearranged his hand so that it was completely covering the wound.

"Keep your…" he sighed, fighting the dizziness, "…your hand on top of mine and try and give me energy."

They had done this before, in one of their let's-see-what-we're-really-capable-of exercises with Michael. Through complete focus they could share energy between each other, making one of them momentarily stronger, making their abilities stronger. But it would be hard for Isabel to do so right now. They had never tried it under emotional stress.

"You can do it," Max whispered, sensing her distress. "I'll be okay. Calm down and concentrate."

The pressure of the task was monumental, but she forced herself to wind-down letting the outside world fade away until there was only her and Max's breathing. She focused on synchronizing her breathing with his, imagined the cold floor against her back (which was her brother's current position) and the feel of coagulated blood against her palm where his hand was being held against the wound.

Within seconds she felt her hand tingling where it was connected with the back of Max's hand. She opened the eyes that she had closed earlier and watched as well as felt a faint glow surround Max's palm and his forehead. They had never tried healing as part of their exercises and the action was thrilling and awe-inspiring while she could feel how much energy it pulled from her. Healing demanded power. Lots of it. An errant thought fluttered through her mind (How was Max able to bring someone back from the dead and survive?) as she felt the broken skin mend beneath Max's palm.

"Thank you," Max whispered with a gasp and Isabel was pushed out of the connection. Max had done so, probably protecting her from using too much of her strength.

"Are you okay?" Isabel asked.

"I will be," Max replied. "I just need to sleep."

He felt himself drifting off and then there was just darkness, until he woke up in his bed in his dark bedroom.

"He's awake," someone said and a trail of light entered the room as the door was pushed open.

Max pushed up on his elbows to see Michael seated in an armchair at the other end of the room. Isabel entered through the bedroom door, relief printed into every detail of her face.

"Hey buddy," Michael said as he got up and moved closer to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Max answered.

"You scared your sister half to death," Michael informed.

"I know," Max nodded and looked over at his sister.

"How's your head?" Isabel asked.

"As good as new," Max replied. "We need to talk."

"No kidding," Michael said. "Was it another seizure?"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "And I think I might know how to prevent the future from happening."