Title: Finding Ulysses
Author: Peachykin
Rating: ADULT themes
Pairing: Mi/L
Disclaimer: I don't own Roswell. Unfortunately Katims did and now we're all just cleaning up his mess.
Michael and Sweet had been on the road for hours. Making their way from Memphis back home to the haven their Lady provided and the precious hearts she kept watch over in their absence. They had just spent the better part of five days helping a friend and former patron open a bar of his own, one similar to Ulysses, leaving their respective mates to mind each other and the bar.
Now Michael sped down the highway at NASCAR speeds, despite his fatigue. Sweet sat next to him gripping the door handle beside him.
"Son, being a newlywed, I understand you haven't seen your lady in five days, but I'd like to see my bride in one piece. And seeing as I've filled my near death experience quota for the year, could ya slow down a bit?"
Michael looked down at the speedometer , a little surprised himself at the speeds at which he'd been traveling and eased his foot off the gas as Sweet had requested.
"Sorry Pop... just uh... anxious is all." Michael said sheepishly. Sweet chuckled at the boy's choice of words and patted his shoulder.
Michael had been reluctant to go on the trip at all, not because he didn't want to help Mr. Traynor, but because he'd be leaving Liz to fend for herself at the bar, while she was taking her classes at the university. Once classes had started in early September, Liz had taken to finishing up her studies when she returned home from the university, with the bar just opening and headed upstairs an hour before it closed to finish up any last minute studying. Even though she knew the material backwards and forwards, Michael would shoo her up the stairs, her education taking much higher priority than balancing the bars books, a task he could easily do on his own.
But even with the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, finals were just around the corner and Michael wanted to make sure she had every available minute to study. Leaving her to run Ulysses for five days was hardly conducive to good study habits.
Liz had convinced him to go help Mr. Traynor, a man who'd been one of his first and more loyal customers in the early days of Ulysses, when she promised she'd close the bar early every night, so she could study, even though they'd lose some prime time business. But Michael had underestimated the team that Sweet and Miriam had become, and that Sweet had been privy to a majority of Michael's arguments with Liz about his leaving.
Not wanting her son to lose any important holiday business, and knowing he was much too prideful to ask for help, Miriam confronted Michael one morning over coffee and rolls waiting for Liz to get out of class.
"Sug, you know I can help Liz with the bar for a few days. How do you think I earned the money to buy my gallery? Pumping beers, pouring shots and kickin' out the rowdies. All ya have to do is ask."
Michael shook his head, "I would, Mir, but I don't want to take you away from the gallery. Christmas is coming up and..."
"And my gallery doesn't keep bar hours, young man. I close up shop at eight, sometimes earlier. I can close up the bar and do the books." she argued, quirking an eyebrow at the reluctant young man, "Besides, you aren't foolin' anyone with your macho act. You just don't want to be away from Liz."
Michael opened his mouth to protest but Mir gave him a warning glance not to interrupt her, "Now I know you two were apart for a long spell and ya'll are in the honeymoon phase... I know a thing or two about that, if you recall it'll be my husband joining you on this little trip. But trust me, the way you two go at it..." she rolled her eyes comically, "Liz might just need the break. Don't get me wrong I'll be mighty anxious myself with Sweet bein' away..."
"Miriam!" Michael whined, "If I ask you to do this, will you stop talking about my sex life and yours? There's a major ick factor in play." he mock shuddered.
Miriam chuckled, "You know, Baby, old people do it too."
Michael groaned, his face red, "Yeah but I have an active imagination and that's one place it doesn't need to go."
Michael should have known the Fates had it in for him, when a few days before his trip Liz, "went in for repairs", as Michael affectionately liked to call her period. Michael cursed her monthly cycle for being so damn punctual.
"Sorry Michael, but it's not like my body takes requests to stop work when you're in the mood." Liz teased.
"Yeah" Michael grumbled, "Well, when you become a big fancy molecular biologist, that's the first project I want you to work on."
"I knew there was a reason you were so gung ho about my education." she giggled.
"What can I say?" Michael sighed in mock arrogance, "I am a selfish bastard."
The Fates still seemed to be holding a grudge against Michael, when after the long road trip to Memphis, he and Sweet arrived at their hotel to find that their reservations had been lost and they wound up having to share a room, thankfully, with two beds, but any kind of long distance phone seduction he had planned with Liz was then null and void with his father in the room.
Now Sweet and Michael had always been frank with each other, sharing many a conversation that would have made Hugh Hefner blush. But somehow Michael felt it a little too weird asking his dad to leave the room for an hour so he could have phone sex with Liz. Sin, had just found its limit.
Michael's involuntary brush with celibacy, had one positive effect that showed in his work ethic. Michael had by no means been a slacker when it came to business, but he seemed more focused and driven to help Mr. Traynor, taking on tasks usually left to the laborers, but found the physical work more satisfying and kept his mind off of Liz stretched out on the living room couch in her hockey jersey, pen dangling from her mouth deeply involved in yet another article on gene splicing. Sexy came in so may forms with her.
To say Michael felt edgy by the time he and Sweet left Memphis, would have been an understatement. He'd never worked so hard in his life as he had in the past days and every muscle in his body ached with the punishment such rigorous efforts afforded. But he couldn't bring himself to care as every mile brought him closer to home.
Sweet chuckled as they parked they car behind Ulysses and Michael, though thoroughly weary, shot out of the car retrieving their bags before Sweet had even managed to step one foot out of the vehicle. It was late, and the bar had closed just twenty minutes before they'd arrived, so Michael, feeling more comfortable about using his otherworldly gifts in front of Sweet, unlocked the front door with his powers.
Miriam looked up from her place behind the bar, tallying up the nights receipts, exchanging an amused chuckle with her husband at Michael obviously fatigued, but in a wild-eyed state of anticipation of seeing his girlfriend.
"Glad you made it back in one piece." she mused coming from behind the bar to greet her two favorite men.
"Just barely." Sweet shook his head, winking at Michael.
Michael's eyes kept darting to the door and the apartment stairs, but he knew he should stay and finish the books, letting Miriam and Sweet get home. With one unconsciously heavy sigh and longing glance upstairs Michael set his and Sweet's bags down, and made his way behind the bar to take over the books.
Miriam exchanged a look with Sweet, and the old man shrugged his shoulders casting a sympathetic glance towards his son. Miriam shook her head and held her hand up to Michael pushing him from out behind the bar.
"I don't think so, Sug." she told him sternly. At Michael confused face she snickered, "Good Lord boy, I believe if you don't get upstairs and see Liz in another minute, you'll positively burst all over the bar. And quite frankly, the only turkey I want to be cleaning up tomorrow, is the one going in my oven. Now scoot."
Michael didn't need to be told twice and with a great smile grabbed Miriam's face, giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, making his way with lightening speed toward the apartment stairs.
"Don't forget you're coming to our house early to help with Thanksgiving dinner!" Sweet called out to the blurring figure of his son.
"We'll be late!" Michael threw back, entirely serious.
"You always are, Sug!" Miriam returned, laughing her way into Sweet's embrace.
Michael took the apartment stairs three at a time, peeking in the window before entering. He saw Liz's dark hair peeking out from the end of the couch and the tips of her knees hanging over the edge of the cushion. She was asleep.
Michael had only recently noticed that while when she slept beside him, Liz would stretch her whole body out against his, molding herself to his every curve. But when he happened to get out of bed before her to make the morning coffee, he'd always come back to the bedroom and find her curled up in a ball with the sheet wrapped tightly around her body, a pale substitute for his body heat.
Foregoing a dramatic entrance, Michael simply crept inside the apartment, mindful not to make any noise. Her kicked off his shoes, wincing at the thud they made against the hardwood floor, and with as much stealth as he could muster made his way into the living room.
Indeed Liz was fast asleep on the couch, her little body balled up, wearing not her hockey jersey, but one of his black Motorhead t-shirts, and her textbook lay open on the floor. Michael shook his head at the simple beauty before him and knew this scene would definitely end up in his next show.
( LEMON START, scroll to next stars if you want to skip )
A surge of lust began curling through his stomach at the sight, sexier than anything he'd conjured up in his mind those lonely nights in his hotel room. As serene a picture as Liz made, and as nice as it would have been for Michael to simply pick her up and take her to bed, saving the ravaging until morning, he reminded himself that he was, on occasion, a very selfish bastard. He had a rep to uphold.
Tossing aside his own t-shirt Michael knelt next to his sleeping temptress, grimacing at the strain he was already feeling of his arousal, confined in once baggy jeans. Starting at Liz's ankle, he began dropping light kisses up her leg, stopping at her knee when she shifted slightly to stretch out, his name escaping her lips in a sleepy mumble.
Michael grinned wickedly and ran his hands up her thighs pushing the shirt up her body. He was met with slight disappointment when he saw a pair of black panties covering her.
"Sure, you pick now to wear underwear." he grumbled.
Liz shifted again moaning slightly and Michael bit his lip, willing himself to keep his inner monologue, inner. He was about to attempt to remove the offending garment without waking her when one of her hands moved up to her shirt, caressing her own breast through the material, freezing Michael's movements, his attention raptly focused on her.
He felt his mouth grow dry with his increasingly labored breathing as he watched, Liz, seemingly still deep in slumber, pinch at her own nipple, making it strain against the fabric of the cotton encasing her body. The mere action seemed to have the same effect on it's twin. Michael licked his lips deciding to help her along, eventually she'd wake up and either way, he was sure she'd have a smile on her face. He drew his hand up her thigh delicately stroking his fingers over her clothed heat, feeling the rush of moisture his touch brought her.
The breathy moan that escaped her lips caused Michael to shut his eyes as it hardened him impossibly more. Taking his hand away from Liz for a moment, and seeking to relieve the unbearable strain against his jeans, he unfastened them, releasing his erection. Now the only pain came from wanting to be inside her, but with the show she was putting on, it was a pain he could definitely endure for a little while longer.
With highly restrained ease Michael shed his jeans and climbed onto the couch delicately lifting Liz's now splayed legs to rest in his lap, careful that she not come in contact with his erection. She was still massaging her breasts and her hip and begun to rotate, seemingly waiting for his fingers to return to her lower region, quelling the ache he'd stirred inside her. Obligingly Michael traced his finger back up the inside of her thigh and stroked her lightly over her panties.
Liz arched off the couch a bit when he touched her again and let a soft whimper escape her lips, Michael watching with utter fascination. Deciding the effort to actually remove the panties, might wake her, he moved them aside to touch unencumbered skin. He was more than a little taken aback when Liz's other hand moved down to join his, batting it away as her brow furrowed.
"What the hell?" Michael muttered, but quickly became enlightened when Liz's hand inched beneath her own panties. Michael's eyes widened. She wasn't really going to...? They weren't strangers to sexual adventure, but... And it was one thing to imagine her on the phone...
"Mmmm..." Liz whispered, as her finger brushed over her clit and down to her moist folds. Michael couldn't help but groan, wishing he could tear away that damn black cloth.
Liz arched her hips as she dipped a finger into her wetness, once again, merely brushing her clit with her thumb and letting out a shaky gasp. Her smooth leg accidently brushed Michael's erection, causing him to moan again tipping his head back against the wall, his hair touching the edge of the Dangerous painting. God, she was asleep and she was killing him. The talents of Liz were growing daily.
Michael might have been content to mimic Liz's actions on himself but the motion of her leg against his arousal was providing enough friction to keep him on the edge. He gripped her leg gently to encourage her motions while his eyes remained on her, unable to tear himself away from Liz pleasuring herself in front of him.
As her pace began to increase, both their breathing picked up, Liz's pants and moans occasionally taking on words resembling English, calling out God's name, eyes still tightly shut. They were so very close when...
"Oh David...!" Liz rasped, "David... we can't...Michael will be home soon..."
Michael's jaw dropped and any pleasure he'd been receiving prior to her utterances were quickly forgotten.
"David?" He said with still labored gasps, his brow beyond furrowed in would be anger, "Who the fuck is David?!"
Liz opened her eyes and a wicked grin crept over her face. She removed her hand from herself and brought her leg up to Michael's face tipping it towards her, "Hey, you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?"
Michael was too frustrated, and approaching anger, to really notice the devilish glint in Liz's eyes. He pushed her leg away and scowled at her, crossing his arms over his chest, "I sure as hell don't when she's calling out another man's name in her sleep."
Instead of the protestations Michael was expecting from her, Liz fell into a fit of giggles at the state he had brought himself too. Michael eyed her suspiciously tipping his head back against the wall in embarrassment. It had been too good to be true.
"So at what point did you wake up?" he asked, trying not to laugh at his own arrogance.
Liz let out another giggle, wiping her eyes, "I'd say about the second set of stairs your feet hit on the way up. I know you love Doc Martens, Michael, but they are not exactly quiet shoes."
Michael shook his head, doing his best to keep his scowl in full effect, "So here I was thinking I was getting the show of a lifetime and your were just toying with me?"
Liz taxed her brain for a moment and nodded, "Yup."
"I am such a chump." Michael grumbled.
Liz sat up kneeling next to him, "Ego a little bruised, Babe?" she asked, with feigned pity.
Michael wouldn't look her in the eye, doing his best to try and maintain some of his pride, "I think it was the 'David' thing that put it over the top, Dear." He finally turned his head, staring at her, "You never answered my question. Who the fuck is David?"
Liz rolled her eyes, "David Duchovny. There was an X-Files marathon on F/X this afternoon...and you do kinda look like him..." she tried to be serious, but the constant giggles were causing her to fail miserably.
"I do not." Michael growled in protest.
"Sure you do." Liz teased, "You have the same...regal... nose."
Michael glared over at her, "Great. While I'm gone, my girlfriend fantasizes about a guy who played an FBI alien hunter...You have a very sick sense of irony Liz."
Michael may have been trying to play the wounded soldier, but Liz knew better if only by his still hard erection, giving him away. She crawled over his body, straddling him. Making sure her heat brushed against his, hearing his breath catch in his throat.
"Aw. You aren't really angry are you Michael? I mean... you were prepared to let me go all the way in my sleep…"
"I...I was not." Michael argued as she attached her mouth to his neck nibbling harshly at the flesh. He clenched his fists in an effort not to touch her, still mildly annoyed, not that she'd managed to get the better of him, but that he'd been so consumed by his desire for her, he'd let her. "I would've woken you up...but..th-then you had to go and say t-that h-hack's name."
Liz pulled back still grinning wickedly at him and pulled her shirt over her head, leaving her only in the skimpy pair of underwear that had taunted Michael earlier. She watched with amusement as Michael turned his head away from the temptation of her chest in an effort to punish her for her earlier joke.
"You're telling me you're really going to deny yourself another day of this..." Liz asked him caressing her breast with one hand and his erection with the other, "...because you got played by your girlfriend?"
Michael took a shaky breath at the feel of her hand on his sensitive skin, but held his ground, "Gotta hold a principle sometime." he said weakly.
Liz abruptly took her hand away from him and shrugged her shoulders removing herself from his lap. She hooked her fingers on the sides of her panties and drug them down her legs, kicking them aside.
"I guess I'll just have to go finish this myself in the bedroom." she sighed and turned away from him, "Enjoy your principle, Michael."
Liz didn't get more than two steps before she felt Michael's hand reach out and grip her wrist tugging her swiftly back onto the couch, shrieking slightly. She often took for granted how quickly Michael could move and found herself pinned beneath his body, staring up to blazing amber, his muscles hardened under his restraint.
"I hate that you know how good you are at that?" he told her in a low voice, dropping a kiss on her neck then letting his mouth hover above his pulse point.
"Good at what?" Liz whispered, genuinely curious and utterly weakened by his dangerous tone.
"Reading me." Michael answered, taking the fingers Liz had been using on herself in his mouth and moaning at the taste he'd been craving for days..
Liz smiled weakly up at him, "Its best to know what skills one has in their arsenal." she said threading her fingers through his long hair, "Learned that from sleeping with a former Antarian general."
Michael couldn't help but grin down at her, "But the ability to bullshit just came naturally, huh?"
"Why, I have no idea what you mean." Liz feigned innocence.
"I mean..." Michael elaborated, shifting his hips to brush his hard length up against her wetness in a slow teasing rhythm, "You have gone without just as long as I have." He dipped his head down to her breast teasing a nipple with his tongue in slow circles, "You had no intention of doing this by yourself, Liz. How far would you have really gotten to the bedroom?"
"A-About a h-half step." she answered him honestly, her breathing coming in ragged breaths, his simple movements and dangerous voice already bringing her to the edge, "I missed you."
"Next time you're coming with me." Michael chuckled, brushing his lips against hers, darting his tongue out to play with hers. "I missed you too."
Without preamble or another word between them, Michael stopped teasing Liz and slid into her body, letting out a strangle puff of air at the feeling of her surrounding him. He watched her eyes widen and then hood as he filled her body and groaned as she arched her hips sending him deeper still.
Michael didn't pause, pulling back immediately to thrust into her body once more, the feeling to great to ignore. Liz raised her head to meet his lips, trapping her gasps and his moans in their mouths. They'd done their playful teasing, prolonging this moment and now they couldn't remember why.
Keep it simple. Isn't that what he'd told her the night they'd admitted their feelings? Simple was there in that moment, their bodies joined in tandem with their pounding hearts. Games were fun, even amusing, but only as long as it doesn't keep them from moments like these. When they realized they had taken the mere presence of the other person for granted, until they were taken away temporarily.
"All I could... think ... about... was getting back to... you." Michael breathed against Liz's neck, his thrusts increasing with every word.
Sure he'd told her he'd missed her but that didn't seem like enough. He knew how glib he could be and he wanted her to be sure that he truly had missed her. Not just her body or the things she did to him, but her. The way just being around her made him stronger and made him see the world in a different light. Hers.
Words caught in Liz's throat at Michael's declaration. She knew he loved her and missed her while he'd been away, but to know she was the reason for his happiness made her heart soar and sent her spiraling into pleasure. All she could do was let out strangled cries, her tears too consumptive to allow her anything other utterances.
She wanted to tell him that despite the heat New Orleans gave off, she'd been so cold without him in their bed. A chill wind seemed to sweep through the city at the knowledge that two of her children were apart. Liz never needed Michael, but she'd never felt a want so great as when he'd left her to go to Memphis. It was only a few days, but they'd felt like those five years apart.
Michael watched all of Liz's feelings play out on her face and the tears steak down her cheek. The tears sent him into his own release, knowing they weren't caused by any pain he might be causing her with his ardent thrusts. No, she was so happy, she couldn't hold them in and he was the one who brought her that happiness.
His release had been explosive and almost overwhelming, all he could manage through his own raspy cries was Liz's name, something that had come to mean so many things to him. He sagged his weight on top of her knowing she could take it, and they way she clung to him, wanted it. She'd missed the power she felt beneath his muscles, the tremors his body always took on with his release and the complete vulnerability he exhibited in not holding back in those moments. No one, but Liz, ever got this Michael and no one ever would.
"I don't want to move." Michael breathed anchoring his weight on his elbows, dropping light caressing kisses on Liz's wet cheeks, he still feel her pulsing around him and he felt he might fall apart in her arms if her removed himself.
Liz smiled up at him and with what strength remained in her leg squeezed his hips, keeping him inside her, "Like I'd let you go." When Michael chuckled, she brushed an errant curl off his face, "You told Sweet we'd be late tomorrow, right?"
"We're always late." Michael smirked down at her.
( End Lemon Scene )
~*~
Thanksgiving, Colorado.
Lexi sat in her booster chair, making mountains with her mashed potatoes and getting an elbow from her dad, "Lexi you're supposed to eat the potatoes, not play god."
Lexi rolled her eyes at her father, "They lumpy, Daddy. Make good mountains."
Kyle stifled his snicker at his daughter's observation. Motherhood had changed Isabel quite a bit, however her ability to cook had not been affected and her larger meals were usually followed with a large bottle of antacid.
Kyle had managed to convince Isabel that he should cook the turkey, claiming it a male duty to char the meat without literally putting a "char" on the meat. In reality he reasoned that if a bird gave up its life to sit on his table, it should at least be cooked properly. The veggies and other side dishes would be sacrificed in Isabel's hands.
"You okay?" Isabel asked Max, forcing down another bite of her own green bean surprise. He'd been pushing around his food since they'd sat down and seemed preoccupied.
The truth was his preoccupation had begun long before that Thanksgiving. It had begun on Isabel's birthday and those paintings Liz had sent. That little hint of a clue as too her whereabouts had sent Max back into his fury to find her. He'd spent the last weeks searching the internet and calling around various places in New Orleans trying to catch, at the very least, Liz's scent, if she'd moved on, but had been coming up, mostly, with dead ends.
He'd been noticeably distant from the James clan, once he'd found out that they'd been in contact with Liz since she left and had refused to tell him where she was. He begged Isabel to just let him talk to her next time she called or at least give the number she was at, but Isabel held fast in her promise to Liz, frustrating Max all the more. He knew he was close he could feel it by the way Kyle and Isabel would tense up and exchange glances at the mention of Liz.
He tried various aliases he thought Liz might use, but no one had heard of an Elizabeth Alexander, Gomez, or Atherton and she certainly wasn't using her married name. So he started looking for the artist who'd painted the pictures. Whomever they were had at least spent a little time with his wife while the portrait of Alexis was being worked on. Maybe they could tell him the name she was using or just how she was. He was living on crumbs of information, and even smaller pieces of hope.
He'd done an internet search of the various galleries in New Orleans and none of them with the letters "MJ". He knew it'd be too easy to simply hope that the mysterious artist would actually own their own gallery and when he pressed Isabel or Kyle for the artists identity or even their gender they clammed up.
Thanksgiving morning he'd been running a random search of galleries again when her came across one called Reflections. It had only recently put up a website, so Max had missed it on his initial sweep. The painting it used as a background looked familiar, much like the piece Liz had sent. His eyes scanned down to the owner's name and the black and white photo of the mid to late forties woman. Miriam Johnston. MJ.
Max wasn't sure if he should breathe a sigh of relief that MJ was a middle-aged woman and not some young handsome man, or cheer that he'd actually, possibly found someone who might be able to help him find his wife. He quickly wrote down the galleries number and grabbed the phone dialing the numbers as quickly as possible.
"Hello. You've reached Reflections, we're all enjoying Thanksgiving with our families but we'll be in bright and early tomorrow morning to open your eyes and take your money. Have a wonderful day."
Max slammed the phone down. He'd forgotten it was a holiday. He clenched his fists in frustration and ran a hand through his messy hair. Taking a deep breath he willed himself to remain calm. It was only one day. He could call this, Miriam Johnston, the next day. See what, if any information she could give him about Liz. How long she'd been in New Orleans, if she was alone, when she'd left, or if she'd said where she was headed next. Tomorrow. It was too long.
"Max!" Isabel nearly yelled, startling her brother from his self induced trance. "Where are you?" she asked him with concern.
Max looked over at his sister and then to Kyle. Lexi, who was fully aware of the tension in the room, but too young to understand it, used the adults distraction to pile more lumpy potatoes onto her plate, deciding her mountain was lonely and thus needed a range.
Max sighed heavily letting his fork drop on the plate, "I'm sure as hell not doing any good here." he muttered and pushed away from the table, standing.
Isabel, looked to Kyle not needing to ask him to stay and keep and eye on their daughter while she tried to figure out what was wrong with Max. Rising from the table she followed him into the entryway and found him putting on his parka.
"Where are you going? Mom and Dad haven't called yet and they'll want to talk to you." Isabel nearly scolded.
"I can't stay here, Isabel." Max said coldly. "I've been sitting on my ass this whole time, looking for Liz, when I should be out there searching. I got a lead this morning. The artist. I'm going to New Orleans."
Isabel put a hand to her mouth, "You found Mi..."
"Miriam Johnston?" Max interrupted and edge in his voice, "Yeah. I found her. She owns a gallery in New Orleans. I know its her because the painting she uses on her website looks like the one you got from Liz. Maybe I can find Liz's trail through her..."
"Look Max, I know it's the holidays and the divorce is really hard on you, but right now you need to be with your family. Me, Kyle, Lexi..."
"Liz is my family too Isabel." Max argued, "And as far as I can tell no one in my family wants to help me get her back. So you'll excuse me if I'm not feeling in the holiday spirit!"
Isabel jumped at his sharp tone and Max softened a bit at the hurt in his sisters eyes, "Isabel, if you haven't noticed, our family has dwindled over the past few years. First it was Jesse, then Maria... I know losing Michael killed you most of all...and now Liz... I'm just trying to salvage what's left."
"So you're leaving? Then it'll just be the three of us. Lexi is already out one uncle and her aunt. Please Max, just stay here. Who's gonna play Santa this year, you Kyle's too short for the costume..."
Max smiled at his sister, "If all goes well I'll be back here by Christmas, Is. And I'll have Mrs. Claus with me."
Max kissed his sister on the cheek and headed for the door. Isabel reached out grabbing her brother's arm, "Max even if you do find Liz, and you come barging in on any kind of life she's made, you'll only make things worse. Think about it. You do this and all you'll come home with, is a broken heart."
"Already got that, Isabel. It can't get more broken than it is now." Max shrugged and felt Isabel release his arm.
"Yes it can, little brother." she whispered as she watched him disappear into his car.
Isabel watched his tail lights disappear from view and felt Kyle's arms wrap around her from behind, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder, "I take it we need to call Michael and Liz."
Isabel nodded, "If Max, finds them... I at least want someone to have a warning."
~*~
One Week Later
Max drove down the interstate feeling all the miles he'd already driven. He'd only been on the road for two days, but when you're alone with your thoughts for long periods of time it tends to where on you. Max was no exception. He'd need the extra time to take a leave from his job and make that phone call to Miriam Johnston, who'd proven to be of no help at all. She'd said that she'd wished she could help him, but she hadn't done a portrait in years and that she hadn't met anyone named Elizabeth, that she could remember.
Max had been undeterred. He was going to there anyways. He figured he could show Miriam Liz pictures maybe jog her memory. Maybe Liz had merely contacted the artist through Miriam's gallery and the woman had forgotten. He heard recognition in the woman's voice. Or at least that's what he'd told himself.
When Max had first taken off on his quest to find Liz, first stop New Orleans, he was excited at the possibilities that awaited him. Just getting out of Denver was exciting in itself. He put Isabel's final words to him in the back of his mind, but they kept creeping forward and the more the miles stretched the louder her voice got. The radio couldn't drown it out and the silence made it deafening. It was the sound of reason and he didn't like that it made sense.
He told himself he wouldn't let anything stop him from finding Liz. If Isabel wasn't willing to help than she'd just have to live with his actions. But now her words were haunting him.
Max even if you do find Liz, and you come barging in on any kind of life she's made, you'll only make things worse. Think about it..."
"Any kind of life, she's made?" he wondered aloud, "What could that mean?"
Max's eyes widened at a possibility he'd never thought of. Liz moving on. Was that why Isabel had been so reluctant to tell him anything about Liz. Had Liz found someone else?
"No." he argued, "There hasn't been enough time." he reasoned.
But hadn't there been? Liz had been gone for a year and half. He'd fallen for her in one glance back in the third grade. That took what, maybe half a second? Isabel had said that Liz was moving from place to place. She wouldn't have had any time to form any real bonds, or ties to anyone, let alone romantic ones with another man. Could she?
"You do this and all you'll come home with, is a broken heart."
Who was he kidding? This was Liz he was talking about. Everyone who'd ever met her, touched her, couldn't help but fall in love with her. How could they not? He smile, her laugh, her compassion. Was Isabel really trying to tell him that Liz was with someone else? Maybe the artist?
Max found himself breathing hard, his heart threatening to burst at the very possibility. He pulled over and tried to regain his composure.
"The divorce." he breathed, "Why else would she wait a whole year to ask for a divorce."
He hadn't heard word one from her until those papers had arrived. Initially Max had figured that Liz was taking her time, trying to decide if she wanted a life without him in it. He never stopped to ponder that she'd found someone to build a new life with. That she wanted to cut him out because he stood in the way of whatever and whomever she wanted to be with.
...you'll only make things worse...
God, if he did find Liz and she had moved on, she'd hate him for disrupting her new life. She wouldn't even give him a chance to try and work things out. Maybe Isabel was right. His heart was already breaking even more at the theory that Liz could be in the arms of another man. If he saw it with his own eyes... he was sure it would kill him.
Max knew he needed to see Liz. Had to, if there was any hope of mending their broken relationship, but now he knew he needed to be prepared for what could be waiting for him when he saw her. And since Isabel and Kyle were guarding Liz's new life, he had to go to someone who would be honest with him. Who loved Liz as much as he did, but wouldn't hold back, no matter what the price to his heart.
Gaining his breath back Max started up the car and turned in th opposite direction he'd been heading. Trading the bayou, for a place much more familiar.
~*~
Early December: Roswell New Mexico
Max shifted his feet nervously at the front door of the Parkers apartment. He'd timed his arrival for Sunday night, knowing they always closed early that day. Even six and a half years away couldn't change that routine.
Summing up what courage remained inside him, Max knocked on the door, bracing himself for whatever Jeff and Nancy had to say to him. He knew that he was not on their list of favorite people. He'd taken their only child away for a life on the run and even though he'd saved her life all those years ago, its difficult for a parent to lose their child and still know she's alive out there and you can't see her. But they would be honest with him, and Max was counting on that honesty to lead him to Liz and whatever new life she'd built for herself.
Max was a bit relieved when he saw Nancy's kind face opening the door, watching her eyes widen in shock at the sight of her son-in-law on her front door. Her hand flew to her mouth, her breath taken away and Max smiled weakly.
"Hi...Nancy...um.." Max started, but was so busy trying to find the right words he missed Nancy's hand flying from her mouth to slap him harshly across the cheek.
Max's eyes widened in shock and he brought his hand up to his reddening cheek, trying to rub out the sting.
"Nanc...who as the doo... Oh." Jeff said as he came into view. He'd heard his wife gasp and some muttered words. When he saw who was behind the door, the reason for his normally pacifist wife's sudden bout with violence. "What the hell do you want Max?" he growled.
"Answers." Max said, quietly, but firmly holding his ground.
"Now why in the hell would we go and do a thing like that Max?" Jeff asked harshly, "You took our daughter away to live a life in danger. You dragged her all over the country and didn't let us see her once. You didn't keep your promise of letting her live her dreams..."
"I didn't force Liz to do anything, Jeff." Max argued. "I didn't force her to come with me. I didn't force her to marry me..."
"And you didn't force her to leave you either." Nancy finally said, recovering from her initial shock.
Max nodded reluctantly, "Isabel and Kyle won't tell me where she is or how she's doing. I want to fix things between us..." Max looked around the street, "Please, can I at least come in. I don't want a lot if people knowing I'm in town. I'm taking a huge risk coming back here. I didn't know where else to go. Please."
Jeff and Nancy shared a glance and nodded, stepping aside for Max to come inside. If voices were to be raised, there was no reason for all of Roswell to hear it. Max was at least right about that.
"Like I said," Max continued once inside, "I just want to fix things with Liz. I know I haven't kept a lot of my promises to her and I want to rectify that, but I can't if she won't give me a chance."
"She gave you plenty of chances Max." Nancy argued, "You ignored her every time."
"I know. I do realize that now, but I want to try again... get it right." Max reasoned.
"By doing what? Having a baby?" Jeff asked incredulously, "Liz's dreams are larger than just that, Max. If you truly knew her like you say you do, you'd know that much."
Max nodded, "I was wrong to think that a baby would make things right between us, and I'm prepared to do whatever it take to make her happy. I just need to know where she is so I can tell her. At least try..."
"Max," Nancy said in a more soothing voice, hearing his desperation, "There is nothing left to save, please trust us on this."
Max's shoulders sunk and he moved from the entryway into the living room. Nancy looked nervously to her husband, knowing what Max was about to stumble on. Jeff grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
Max's frustration was visible, in his stance and the tiredness in his eyes. It was one thing to hear, albeit cryptically, from your sister that you should give up on the love of your life, but it was another to hear it from her parents. He ran a hand over his face, taxing his mind for anything that might get the Parkers to tell him where Liz was, if she was happy, or at the very least prepare him for what he might be waiting when he did find her. And then he did.
Max took his hands away from his face, opening his eyes, and was met with Liz's. Or at least a reasonable facsimile. Hanging above the Parker's mantle was a painting of Liz. She was standing in front of what appeared to be a college board dressed in denim shorts and a tank top, but her reflection had her in hospital scrubs. She was still so beautiful and the painting looked as though it were alive.
Jeff and Nancy stood back letting Max take in the painting watching him slowly walk toward it, as though the Liz on the canvas might step out to embrace him. Max's eyes settled on the corner where the artists signature was held in small red letters. M.J.
Whomever painted this had spent a fair amount of time with Liz. Enough so that they knew what dreams she still held. It was possible that this, Miriam Johnston, could have had a kind ear to listen to Liz's troubles as she painted her, but Max suspected not. No, whomever painted this knew Liz intimately. Enough to catch the longing in her eyes and the slight smile that came from even just dreaming about the things she could accomplish. This person knew her heart, almost better than he did.
Max's gaze fell to the small gold plaque embedded in the wood frame housing the painting, Little Miss Scientist by Michael Joyce.
"Michael Joyce?" Max whispered in confusion.
He'd been certain that M.J. had been Miriam Johnston not this Michael Joyce. And why did everything about this feel so familiar? Even the title of the painting had struck a familiar chord. But why?
Max turned around and looked back at Jeff and Nancy, scratching his head, a nervous smile came over his face, "I...uh... don't know who this artist is... but I remember where she got that nickname...After I healed Liz that day...she wouldn't stop investigating for us and God, she annoyed the hell out of Isabel and Michael..." Max's eyes widened in realization... "Michael... Uh... used ...to call her... Little Miss...Oh God..."
"Max..." Nancy said softly, seeing that he was putting the pieces together. Jeff whispered something to her and she ran into the kitchen picking up the phone, dialing hastily.
Max swiftly turned back to the painting his mind running wild. Michael Joyce. M.J. An artist... in New Orleans...Little Miss Scientist... the portrait of Lexi...Isabel's emotions over the paintings she'd received on her birthday...yet another reason Isabel would keep Liz's location from him. She wasn't just hiding Liz , but Michael as well.
Max's eye caught something else on the mantle that had escaped his notice upon his initial draw to the painting of his wife. In a small silver frame was a black and white photo of Liz standing next to Michael, in front of the bar from Isabel's New Orleans painting, both of them smiling... at each other.
"Liz found Michael." was all he could whisper.
But why hadn't Michael called him to let him know where Liz was. He knew how much she meant to him. Michael hadn't given his reason for leaving, never called nor wrote, but Max always believed he'd have his back when the chips were down. Now it appeared he didn't, because there was Liz, in the painting, done by Michael's hand, and in the photo, smiling at her.
Max couldn't, wouldn't let the next notion of anything other than a friendship enter his mind. He felt his knees would buckle if it held any sort of truth. Michael and Liz didn't make any sense together. They were complete opposites. They hated each other. But how could ignore the intimacy of the painting or the genuine smile on Michael's face on the photo.
"She's in New Orleans with Michael..." Max breathed.
"Has been since the end of July." Jeff provided placing a firm hand on Max's shoulder, seeing the young man's unsteady stance.
"But why Michael? I mean..." Max faltered.
"She wasn't looking for him, Max." Jeff explained, " She just stumbled on him... He's good for her...to her... He's helping her realize the dreams you forgot she had."
"I don't understand..." Max rasped, his tears welling up in his eyes.
"The money he's making from his paintings... He's helping me put her through college." Jeff told him.
Max's anger began to surface, "Since when did Michael Guerin ever give a damn about Liz? Or even bother to care about what her dreams were? Michael only ever cared about himself... its why he left. Maria was gone so he..."
Nancy came in the living room sensing Max's burgeoning rage and handed him the phone. Max gave her a bewildered look and accepted it bringing it to his ear, "Who is this?"
"Isabel." His sister answered, "Jesus Max, why would you go to Roswell?"
"Fuck you, Isabel. You know why I came here! You knew where and who Liz has been with the last few months and never told me!" he bellowed, causing Nancy and Jeff to stand back nervously.
"Yeah I did and I wouldn't take it back. Michael didn't want to see you either Max. I respected that! You aren't my only brother!" Isabel countered.
"Yeah well I'm about to pay a visit to our brother and there's nothing you can say to stop me!" Max yelled.
"Don't you think I wanted to tell you that Liz had found Michael. I was so damn happy when he called after she got there... And I wanted to tell you... but they needed time...Please don't do this! What I told you at Thanksgiving is still true. You go barging in on Liz's life now and she'll only hate you for it and so will Michael! Then you'll lose them both!"
Max growled in frustration, "Look I get it! Michael was trying to be a good friend to Liz, but letting her just keep running away isn't going to solve anything. He should know that better than anyone!" He paced the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Isabel... How could you not tell me Liz was with Michael?"
There was a pause on the other end and all he could hear was Isabel's temper labored breathing. "You really don't get it do you Max? I love you little brother, but there's a fucking neon sign flashing in front of your eyes and you refuse to see it!"
"Then enlighten me, Isabel!" Max countered, "For once since Liz has left... Enlighten me!"
Isabel sighed heavily, "Max all the pieces are before you. Put them together. The paintings? The secrecy? The divorce papers? You really think Michael is just hiding her because they're friends?"
"Why else would Liz be with him?" Max asked, a sinking feeling centering in his stomach.
"That's it Max. Liz isn't just with Michael. She's with him."
Max felt his heart drop to the floor and his knees buckled as he slumped onto the Parkers couch. He looked up at the painting, the photo, the worried looks on the Parker's faces and the words Jeff had said about Michael. How he was "helping Liz realize her dreams".
"No..." Max shook his head, "You're wrong Isabel. Michael wouldn't do that to me."
"Michael isn't the same man he was five years ago Max. None of us are. Didn't you notice how close he and Liz were before he left? And even after... since when did Liz listen to Metallica? Or watch hockey? Or even attempt yo read anything by James Joyce?"
"You're saying they were...all that time...?"
"No." Isabel said quickly, "Nothing happened then, but now... they found each other, Max. Michael isn't doing anything to you. He loves Liz, really loves her. And she..."
"Don't say it." Max gritted his teeth, "Don't you dare say it, Isabel."
"You can't bury what you don't want to hear, Max." Isabel insisted. He needed to hear it, "Liz loves Michael, Max. They are happy. And I'm sorry it hurts you so much, but she's happy without you."
There was another long pause on the phone and Isabel knew Max's mind was trying to catch up, digest what she'd told him. Michael and Liz in love. Not five words he would have ever strung together in his life. It was too odd. Too irrational. To painful.
It was one thing if Liz had fallen for a complete stranger. A human. Someone normal. But Michael? His own brother? What if it was another lie?
"I need to see it for myself. Now." he finally told Isabel, "You can warn them if you want, but I'm going."
"Max..." Isabel pleaded, "Please, not like this. I mean it. You will lose both of them forever if you try to bully your way in."
Max laughed nervously, so many emotions running through him, he wasn't sure which one to nail down, "And what do you suggest I do, Isabel? Since all of a sudden you are an expert on Michael and Liz."
"If you can't let Liz go, now. Then wait to see her...them. Kyle, Lexi and I are going to New Orleans for Christmas to see them. Come with us. Not that I think it'll do any good, but at least then you three can talk about this. Calmly. Once you've had time to let it soak in."
Max hated to admit it, but once again Isabel was right. They were all adults. And while his heart and mind were reeling with the new information and every instinct in his body told him to run to New Orleans and not care about the consequences, if there was even the remotest hope of winning Liz back, he'd have to show her that he'd changed as well.
"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this." he sighed, "I don't know what good it will do. I mean... Michael?
Isabel let out a deep breath, "I'm not saying you have to understand why Max, just that he makes her happy. And that its time for you to let go."
"Hell hasn't frozen over yet, Is."Max replied dryly.
~*~
Later That Night...New Orleans
Michael came upstairs after closing the bar with Sweet and Miriam, hoping to find Liz either asleep, she'd been studying so hard with her finals only a week away. But instead found her sitting in the dining room, with her head in her hands and the phone resting on the table.
He could see her whole body was tense and felt it when he placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent down placing a kiss on the back of her neck, "What's wrong?"
Liz looked up at Michael with worry in her eyes, and a pale to her normally tan skin "We're going to have to set one more plate for Christmas dinner."
Michael own shoulders sunk, but it had hardly been unexpected, "Max." he said, seeing Liz nod.
Ever since Isabel had called them the day after Thanksgiving, warning them about Max possibly showing up in their neck of the woods, they'd been bracing themselves for his arrival. Even more so when Miriam got Max's phone call a few days later looking for a woman named, "Elizabeth".
Neither Michael or Liz had asked Miriam to lie, and technically she didn't. She didn't know a woman that went by any of the names Max had spouted off. Nor had she been the one to paint that portrait of Lexi. If Max had asked her about the artists she showcased, he might have found out about Michael, but then again, Max really wasn't looking for Michael.
But now, it seemed, seeing Max again was inevitable. Michael and Liz had enjoyed their time without having to worry about him, but they knew well enough that it was a bubble that would burst soon. The honeymoon was over.
"Are we ready for this?" Liz asked Michael as he knelt beside her.
"We kinda have to be, don't we?" Michael replied, "We knew we'd have to face him sooner or later. It'll be tense, but I'm not worried. You can do that enough for the both of us."
"I know, but Isabel said..."
"That Max is angry? Pissed off? Hurt? In denial? Wants to see it with his own eyes?" Michael provided.
"All of the above. Michael, he went to Roswell. To see my parents." Liz said a hint of anger in her voice.
"Can't imagine your dad was too happy to see him." Michael mused, trying to get Liz to smile, but it wasn't working. "Look I'm not half as grouchy as I used to be. Sex on a regular basis tends to tame the wild beast."
"Hardly." Liz joked rolling her eyes, but a meaningful glare from Michael, kept her from teasing any further and she waved her hand for him to continue.
"All I'm saying is I'm not going to get into a pissing match with Max, over you. You love me, right?"
Liz's eye widened, "You know I do."
Michael shrugged his shoulders, "Then I'm not worried us. Nothing Max says or does is going to change that. It'd be nice if he'd sign those divorce papers, but like you said, we don't need a piece of paper to tell us who are family is." Michael accepted a kiss on the forehead from Liz before continuing. "Truth is I'm more worried about what coming here is going to do to him. I mean you've moved on. You're happy. And at the very least sexually satisfied."
"Michael..." Liz warned, but couldn't hide her smile.
"This is gonna break him Liz, and we have to be able to live with that. Can you?" He asked her seriously.
"I don't want to break him, Michael, but I spent too much time being broken myself, to ever go back." Liz said with sorrow in her voice. She really didn't want to hurt Max. He was her first love. Her husband, the man she'd given up so many things for to be with.
"Sometimes you have to hit bottom before you can climb back up, Liz. Max has to find that out for himself." Michael explained.
Liz nodded, "I know but do we have to be his tour guides."
Michael chuckled, "Who better? We both know a little bit about hitting bottom."
"Yeah, but we had each other. I'm the reason he's going to fall, Michael."Liz said softly.
"No you aren't Liz." Michael argued, "We all are our own worst enemy. I think I've proven that a few thousand times. Max not letting you go is what's sending him down. And until he does that he'll never start moving on. You have to stop letting yourself be the center of Max's world, or he'll never stop seeing you as just that."
Liz brushed her lips over Michael in a kiss of gratitude and smiled, "You're right."
"About what? I was kinda in a Kyle-like Zen mode. Kinda creepy really." Michael joked.
"About regular sex making you less grouchy." Liz laughed. "There was a time when the prospect of Max coming around made you quite a bear."
"Still does." Michael told her honestly and stood up, pulling her out of the chair, and pulling her towards their bedroom with a smirk, "But then again, the beast hasn't been tamed since this morning, so..."
Liz batted her eyes, "And me without my whip, what will we do?"
"Improvise." Michael said waggling his eyebrows.
~*~
TBC…