CHAPTER 47
Max

He pulled the sunscreen down and looked at his amber-colored eyes in the small fitted mirror. With a touch of his finger to his temple he concentrated on the pigment of his irises. In his reflection he watched green flood the amber, like the bloom of summer flowers. He blinked twice before running his hand through his dark brown hair and letting it sprinkle with blond.
She looked at him funny when he put the sunscreen back and he had to smile back, despite the anger against Tess having yet to recede.

"Odd seeing you as a blond," Liz stated.

He tilted his head, "Not my color?"

"I hope it's not permanent," Liz answered and a fresh blush crept up her cheeks as she dropped her eyes and mumbled, "I'd miss your eyes."

That familiar warmth filled his chest and he leaned across the shift, tugging gently on a strand of her brown hair. "Come here."

Her eyes blinked up at him and with some trepidation, she leaned into his hither. He buried his fingers in the thickness of her mane, his breath catching as he watched her eyes drift closed and her lips slightly part. He moved his hands slowly through her hair, making the strands turn copper red. It only took thirteen seconds. His hands stilled and she opened her eyes. He hadn't changed her eyes. He couldn't make himself do it.

"All done," he whispered, his breathing felt hot in his chest. He was hyperaware of her presence, of the glistening of her pink moist lips and the softness of her scalp against his fingertips. He let his hands float down the sharpness of her cheekbones, coming to a halt to cradle her face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him and shook her head as much as his capture would allow, before leaning her cheek into the hollow of his left palm. "No. It wasn't your fault."

"No," he said quietly, refusing her assurance as the guilt pushed on his conscience. "I'm sorry that I didn't put my own feelings of guilt aside, of not being able to protect you from the FBI, and because of that didn't have that conversation - about Tess - with you earlier. Instead, you've been forced to walk around believing that I…that Tess and I…" He swallowed back the bad taste in his mouth, before emphasizing. "I'm sorry for not being able to protect you."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion and something else. Admonishment? She brought her right hand up on top of his left and squeezed the back of his fingers. "You did."

Not feeling worthy to touch her any longer, Max gently pulled back, disentangling his hand from hers. The coldness came along with his withdrawal. "They took you. From under my nose."

Liz reached for his hand again and he let her take it. She braided her fingers with his. "But they brought me back."
Max shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Whatever they did to you-"

"I can't remember."

"That's what scares me," Max whispered. "They could've done whatever to you and you just don't remember."

She tried a smile. "At least it's less traumatic that way."

The unfairness of the situation pressed on him. "Don't say that."

"Max," Liz said quietly and squeezed his hand. "I'm okay."

There was a quick rap on the window which made them both jump. Max looked over his shoulder at Michael who was standing, impatiently, outside the car window. With an annoyed movement he pointed towards the mall and then to his wrist, which had never worn a watch, but the message was implied nonetheless.

"Right right," Max mumbled and turned back to Liz. He reached across her shoulders, noticing how she froze at his closeness, and pulled up the hood to her sweater to cover her hair. Tugging on the drawstring he encouraged her closer. Her face was only an inch from his when he stopped, her breath being warm and sweet across his own lips. She looked up at him through thick lashes, a questioning look in her eyes.

He grabbed onto her gaze and said quietly, but not without a tinge of command baked into it, "Don't leave my side in there, okay?"

Mutely, she shook her head, her eyes unwavering. He closed the distance between them with a gentle tug of the strings and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Time seemed to slow and dim, the sounds of the busy mall were muted as he pressed his lips against hers.

He became aware of every single detail of her being. Of the pulse throbbing against the heel of his hand as he pushed his fingers into her wig and how the small hairs on her arms rose at attention. He had to stop himself from pulling the wig off her, the longing to feel Liz's soft real hair around his fingers burning in him.

Her lips were soft and her reciprocal was hesitant at first (no wonder since he had practically attacked her), but when she started softening under his assault, angling her head to provide him better access to her mouth, and pushing up close against him, there was a fierce burn in his body. He felt his breathing pick up and the desire rise.

He let the kiss linger as his memory brought him back to the one and only time he had kissed her. His prolonged kiss on her forehead was probably a little long to be considered platonic concern. But both of them probably knew by now that they were not just platonic. They never had been.

He pulled back and waited for her to look up at him. "Remember? Keep your head down. Don't do anything that will draw attention. It's a simple in-and-out kind of thing."

She inhaled deeply and pulled back, the drawstrings sliding through the loose grip of his fingers. She arranged the hood around her face, collected herself and nodded. "Let's do it."

Special Agent Joel Martin

"Ms. Parker?"

Joel leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. In front of him was the recording of Elizabeth Parker's questioning. Joel was impatiently drumming a pen against the armrest, having seen the documentation of the inquisition twice already. He wanted - no, needed - to figure out more about where the suspects were going, what their ultimate plan was. He was hoping to find something he might have missed on the recording.

Elizabeth was just waking up on the screen and he watched himself lean over her. The truth serum caused heavy sedation as it had reached its maximum dose, but as soon as it started tapering off, she became lucid and was coherent enough to answer questions. That was the state they were in now, on the screen.

"Where am I?" Ms. Parker slurred, her head lolling from side to side, her gaze unfocused.

Joel watched her hands tighten into fists in the restraints and was yet again surprised at how different it was to see an interrogation (especially where he himself was the lead interrogator) to actually experience it in person.

"Ms. Parker? I need to ask you a couple of questions."

"No," she murmured, weakly fighting the restraints. "No questions."

"Oh yes, Ms. Parker," his voice was amused. "I have a lot to ask you. That's why you are here. To answer my questions."

"No. I want to go home."

"Ms. Parker," Joel called, grabbing her chin to stop her movements and get her to focus on his face. "When did you meet Max Evans for the first time?"

She grimaced, her face strained in fighting the serum. "At an office party."

But even from the recording, Joel could see the sweat breaking out on her forehead. She was good. Joel had been told that it was practically impossible to fight the serum, but somehow Elizabeth Parker was accomplishing telling half-lies.

He knew it was a lie, because he asked her again - and got a different answer. "When did you first meet Max Evans?"

She gasped, before pressing her lips together, her whole body trembling with tension. And just as if a ball stumbled out of her grasp, she almost blurted out, "At the accident."

"When your mom died?" Joel asked for clarification.

"Yes," Ms. Parker forced out.

"What happened during your first meeting? What did Max Evans do to you?"

"He…" a tear slid down her cheek and her fists tightened against her sides again. "He healed me."

"He-"

Joel watched the tension set in his own back before the recorded version of him got out, "He healed you?"

"Yes," she answered with a sob. "I was dead, but he resuscitated me."

"How? How did he do this, Ms. Parker?"

"He can heal with his hands. There's some-" she pressed her lips together again, still fighting the serum, "-some type of energy in his hands. I don't know how it works. He put his hands on me and I was whole again. I was alive."

"Did you have any relation to each other after the accident?"

"Not until the office party. I didn't remember him. But I remember his mother. She was at the scene of the accident."

"What more can he do, Ms. Parker?"

"He has premonitions. He can see the future. But, as I've understood it, only when it concerns me."

"That's a bit odd, don't you think, Ms. Parker?"

"It surprised me too. But we seem to have some type of connection. Sometimes I think I can feel what he feels and I wonder if he can feel what I'm feeling."

"Is he a telepath? An empath?"

She shook her head, frowning. "I don't think so."

"Any other abilities?"

"Not that I know of."

"When you were attacked by David Perkins; what happened?"

"Max pushed him off me. But just before David was lifted off me, I saw a neon green light above me. I thought I had imagined it. Until you asked about it when you questioned me."

"Ah… So David Perkins might've been telling the truth. Is that so, Ms. Parker?"

She swallowed. "He probably did."

"Do you have any abilities, Ms. Parker?"

Even under the influence, she laughed slightly, her body trembling. "No."

"Is Max Evans human?"

Her nails scraped against the metallic surface of the restraining chair as she fought against telling him the truth. In retrospect, Joel found her strength impressive. Her need to keep Max Evans a secret had to be very strong.

"He doesn't think so," she whispered brokenly, more tears falling down her cheeks. "He thinks he's from another planet, but he doesn't know for sure. He doesn't know anything about his past. He woke up in a cave, as a four-year-old, together with his sister."

Joel could still remember the thrill running through him at Ms. Parker's revelation. "Isabel Evans?"

"Yes," Ms. Parker croaked. "She has abilities too."

"She's alien?"

"She believes so."

"What can she do? What are her abilities?"

"I don't know," Ms. Parker answered. "I don't know." And she almost smiled at this, as if she was relieved that there was some piece of information she wasn't able to disclose. Something that he couldn't force out of her.

"Are there any more like Max and Isabel?"

"Michael," Ms. Parker breathed. "Their friend: Michael. And Tess. Can't remember her last name."

"Michael Guerin and Theresa Harding?"

"Yes."

"What are their abilities?"

"I don't know what Michael can do. But Tess… She can make you see things that aren't real."

"What does that mean?"

"She invades your mind and projects images in your head. If she wants you to think that you're in a jungle, you will."

Joel remembered the elation he had felt, and could still taste, from finding out about Theresa Harding's abilities. It was a type of ability that spoke only of destruction, of doing harm, in contrast to Max Evans' healing ability.

"Ms. Parker. What is their agenda? What do they want from us?"

"Nothing," Ms. Parker answered softly and for the first time she met Joel's eyes.

Joel still remembered that moment; he would probably always remember it. How her big brown eyes, glistening with tears and conflicting emotions, had met his gaze straight on and repeated, "Nothing."

"Are their mission to take over the planet?"

"No."

"Will they start a war with us?"

"No."

"Are they after our natural resources?"

"No."

"Are they aiming to exterminate the human race?"

"No."

"Ms. Parker. I need you to answer my questions truthfully."

"Do you think I have the ability to lie, after what you injected me with?" Ms. Parker said hotly, fierce anger scintillating in her eyes.

He was quiet for a moment, before continuing, "Where are you heading, Ms. Parker? You're currently on the run; where are you going?"

"I don't know. We're driving north, but I don't know the final destination."

Joel had asked some more questions after that, but had soon realized that Elizabeth Parker had exhausted her knowledge. Joel sharply remembered the conversation with his superior after the questioning; how he had emphasized that they needed to bring in the aliens themselves for questioning; how the aliens were the only ones in possession of the knowledge, probably not having shared that much with Elizabeth Parker about their real plans.

But to Joel's frustration, the agents of the Special Unit had refused to take the aliens into custody, claiming that it was too dangerous. Without any more information, they didn't know exactly what the aliens could do and the harm they might do if one of them got captured. The ones still on the run might draw on resources; contact other aliens, and a war was suddenly upon them. They couldn't risk it.

Joel tried to remind them of the fact that right now they knew exactly where the suspects were. That they were probably staying put to await Elizabeth Parker's return. That same opportunity might not present itself again.

But his superior had been relentless in his decision, telling Joel that they needed to keep track of the group - which shouldn't be too hard from now on, since their current location was known - and that they would strike when they were more prepared.

In his frustration, like a small child not getting their way, Joel had ordered for a message to be written on Liz's back, in black permanent marker, to let his suspects know that the FBI wasn't done yet, that they shouldn't get too comfortable. Joel wanted them scared, wanted them to look over their shoulder. The last thing he wanted was for them to feel like they had won, just because Ms. Parker had been returned to them and they themselves hadn't been captured.

It was in the midst of remembering the black letters on Ms. Parker's pale skin, while he watched Elizabeth Parker be sedated onscreen for her drop-off at the motel from which she had been abducted, that Agent Powell stepped into his office.

Joel hurriedly pulled his legs off the desk and stood up, "Agent Powell!"

"Agent Martin," Agent Powell greeted with a nod, looking ridiculously calm compared to Joel's flustered appearance. "Keeping yourself busy?" He nodded towards the screen and Joel gave a sheepish smile.

"Yes," Joel replied. "I'm trying to find some more information on the suspects' plan, sir."

"Well, it might not be necessary, Agent," Agent Powell replied.

Joel looked at him confused. "Sir?"

"Our scientists have been successful in the manufacturing of a drug that isolates and inhibits the functions of the frontal lobe. The frontal lobe is the main component of problem solving, creative thought, intellect, abstract thinking, physical reactions and muscle movements. To name a few." Agent Powell shrugged. "According to the scientists, the frontal lobe is the most likely part of the brain involved in the suspects' abilities. This is a major break-through. It's the reason why we didn't move in on trying to capture them before. Now we can do it safely, inhibiting their abilities and lessening the risk of them contacting someone else - telepathically or what not."

Joel had been listening to Agent Powell's account with escalating excitation. "That's fantastic, sir."

"We're moving in today. According to my agents the group is right now entering a shopping mall."

"Do you need me there, sir?" Joel asked, almost wishing that he could be on site, see the expression on the suspects' faces. But especially, see the expression on Max Evans' face - who had seemed so full of himself, so sure of himself, when they had previously met.

"I need you to prepare for their arrival here, Agent Martin," Agent Powell said. "We have some tough days ahead of us."

Max

They had split up in teams of two, with the task of finding blankets, water bottles, flashlights, ready-to-eat type of food and paper towels. Anything to minimize their future trips to the store as they now had to focus on going underground as much as possible. They hadn't realized when they had stopped at the first mall they encountered that it had been the largest shopping mall in North America, but it didn't take them long to grasp its magnitude. Max and Michael had debated back and forth about whether going to such a large shopping mall was such a good idea when trying to be inconspicuous or if they should rather find a smaller, anonymous mall. They both reached the conclusion that they would be more anonymous at that size of a mall where they could more easily blend in with a large visitor number.

Max and Liz were in the bedding department of Target, when the commotion started at the entrance of the store. Max noticed by how Liz froze suddenly while feeling the texture of a blanket. His eyes traveled in the direction of her stare and saw the men. With a sinking ice-cold feeling he read the letters on the back of the mens' jackets: F.B.I.

"Shit," he mumbled and immediately looked away, afraid that the men would look over and see his face. Simultaneously, he pulled at Liz's elbow, whispering harshly, "Don't look."

She stumbled against him and when she turned her eyes towards him, her back now towards the men of the government, they were glistening with fear. "Max…"

He grabbed her hand. "We have to hide."

She whipped her head back and forth, searching the surroundings. "Where? There's nowhere to hide."

She was right. They were in the middle of a very well lit department store and the only exit was the one now occupied by seven FBI-agents. The adrenaline was pouring into his veins as he scanned the surroundings, telling Liz to, "Keep your head down."

"They can't recognize us," Liz whispered, bending her head, staring at the floor, her body as stiff as a violin string.

"We can't take that risk," Max said and pulled on her hand. "Over here."

He had watched an employee disappear around a corner; maybe it was an 'Employees Only' area.

"Act natural," he told Liz as he tugged her along. She was too tense, nervously looking around herself. Too conspicuous. He squeezed her hand and told her gently, "Relax."

She took a deep breath and obviously made an effort to will herself to do just that, because her body softened next to him. Max looked over her head towards the entrance to the store, where the FBI-agents had started to spread out, pouring into the store like ants attacking a picnic buffet.

Liz and Max passed under a sign reading 'Employees Only' and ended up in a white short corridor. There was a door to the right, with the sign 'Staff' and to their left was a small impractical hole in the wall, partly hidden behind a rack of clothes on wheels.

"We can't go in there," Liz said, pointing towards the door marked 'Staff', voicing Max's mental conclusion.

"No, we can't." Max looked over his shoulder at the agents that were slowly circling them in, like animals in a holding paddock. Going back was not an option. He nudged Liz in the side. "Get into that corner."

Liz did as told and dropped to the white-tiled floor, pulling her legs up tight against her chest to make herself as compact as possible. Max shot a final look out over the store before he sat down next to Liz. The clothing rack was partly covering them, making them difficult to spot if you weren't actively looking, which would hopefully hide them from any unsuspecting staff member that might walk out of the opposite door.

Max felt the nervous heat of Liz's body against his as he pressed up against her, trying to hide as much as possible of his body behind the not ideal canopy while he fished the cell phone out of his pocket. Expertly he searched out Michael's cell phone number and hit 'Call'.

Michael picked up after the first ring. "Fuck, Max. Now is not such a good ti-"

"FBI's here," Max interrupted in a hushed tone. "Where are you?"

"They're everywhere, Maxwell. We're screwed."

Fuck. "Is there anywhere for you to hide?"

"We're trying to find an exit. Where are you?"

"Target."

"Have you called Izzy?"

Max's heart clenched at the mention of his sister. She was somewhere else in the mall. With Tess. "Not yet."

"We might have to split up. Leave in separate car- Shit. Max. I'll have to call you ba-" And the phone call was disconnected.

"Michael?" Liz whispered.

Max let his head fall heavily back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut against the nightmare that was his life. "He's in trouble."

"FBI's all over the mall?" Liz asked quietly and there was naked fear in her voice.

He wanted to lie and say something to calm her down, but there was not reason to hide the truth. He was about to answer her when the sharp bark of a dog cut through their conversation, making them both jump. He felt his whole body tense. They might have been able to hide from humans, but not dogs.

He looked towards the dead end of the corridor. They had to get out of here. His eyes flickered towards the 'Staff'-door. He considered what the room might be. Possibly a lunch area for employees. Going in there they might encounter employees on a break. It couldn't be much worse than facing the FBI and vicious canines.

If he remembered the map of the building correctly, the store should be located at one end of the mall. If they were lucky, there might be an exit on the other side of that door. He could hear the stomping of feet and the excited yapping of dogs picking up on a trail.

Liz had squeezed her eyes shut when he moved to put his mouth close to her ear, afraid that the men might be so close right now that they might hear their conversation. "We need to move."

She came alive beneath him and nodded. Max put a silencing finger to his lips before pointing towards the door across the hallway. They would without a doubt be seen crossing that corridor. Max felt Liz get to her feet unsteadily and turned his face back to her nervous one.

Without a moment of hesitation, he gentle pressed his lips to hers. She was shocked at his move, he could feel it in the stiffness and unresponsiveness of the reciprocation, and just as she relaxed into him he pulled back.

There was no time.

His lips a breath from hers, he whispered, "On three."

She nodded in acknowledgement and together they mutely mimed the numbers, before straightening from their crouched position and making a run for the white door across the hall.