PART EIGHT

"Stop him Alex," Liz said weakly.

"He's gone Liz. Are you all right?" he asked concerned.

"I'm fine, please Alex....go after him," she said frantically.

"https://majestysfanfic.tripod.com/ficnsmain.htm"Liz, we've got trouble," he said, motioning to the figure lying prone on the ground.

"What happened?" Liz asked with wide eyes.

"No idea," Maria said shakily. "Max did something with his hand and he went down. What did he do to you Liz?"

"I don't know," Liz said, confused for a moment.

"Is he dead?" Liz whispered, looking over at Wilkes.

"I don't know," Alex admitted.

Alex and Maria helped her up and she slowly walked toward Wilkes, fearing the worst.

Alex came up beside her and leaned down, feeling for a pulse.

"https://majestysfanfic.tripod.com/ficnsmain.htm"He's alive," he said finally. And turned as a loud yelling came from behind him.

"What happened?" the waitress said, looking down and seeing the unconscious man with the gun in his hand.

"I saw him pull the gun from inside," the waitress said. "As soon as I saw that, I ran into the back to call the police. I thought one of you would be lying on the ground, not him. What would he want with you kids?" she asked.

The three looked at each other quickly and Alex spoke.

"We don't know. He was acting crazy. We were just walking to our car, and he pulled a gun on us. He was going to shoot, so I rushed him and knocked him down," he said, thinking to himself that he was digging himself deeper.

What if Wilkes woke up? What if he told them what really happened? But he wouldn't do that. The FBI was obviously doing something underhanded, or why else would they make up that story about Max being a murderer? No, they wouldn't have anything to fear with the police, but if the FBI got an explanation from Wilkes, there would be real trouble. But for now, this was their only option.

"I saw him pull the gun from inside," the waitress said. "What would he want with you kids?" she asked.

Alex shrugged.

Sirens wailed in the distance. The waitress had called the police.

Liz took a deep breath and prepared for the worst, trying not to think of Max. It was too much to hope that Wilkes wouldn't wake up. He was alive, and the odds were he was going to wake up sooner rather than later. And he would tell them about Max.

Her mind was enveloped again by what Max had done to her. She'd been shot. She'd felt the slicing burn of the bullet. She looked down at her sweater. The hole was there, and so was blood. She paled and turned around quickly before the waitress looked at her too closely, and walked away.

"Lizzie?" Maria asked, concerned, following her.

"My sweater," she said in a low voice. "They can't see my sweater."

Get in the car," Maria said, and Liz climbed into the back.

Maria was wearing doubled tank tops. She pulled one off quickly.

"Get it off now!" Maria hissed.

Liz pulled the sweater over her had quickly, and Maria tossed the tank to her.

"Hurry, the police will be pulling in any minute!" Maria said, looking out the rear window of the Jetta.

Liz put it on quickly, just as a police car pulled in.

They got out of the car and walked back to stand with Alex.

"Sorry," she said loud enough for the waitress to hear. "That sweater was getting too hot, I was feeling faint," she said, and the waitress nodded her head.

"Yep hon, those sweaters are nice at night, but you'll fry in that during the day," she waitress said, as an officer got out of the police car.

"What happened here?" he asked, hurrying over to Wilkes.

"That guy pulled a gun on those kids," the waitress said. "I saw him screaming at them, and he was pointing the gun at this girl here, and I ran to call you guys," the waitress said.

The officer turned to Alex.

"Why exactly did he pull a gun on you?" the officer asked.

"I don't know. He was acting all irrational. He started screaming at us and waving the gun around. He was going to shoot Liz, and I jumped him. He hit the ground pretty hard," Alex said.

The officer bent over Wilkes, checking his pulse.

"He's alive. No visible sign of injury," the officer said.

He unsuccessfully tried to revive Wilkes, and then checked his pockets for identification, pulling his wallet out. He spotted the FBI badge and his head snapped toward Alex questioningly.

"What?" Alex said, playing dumb as the ambulance pulled in.

"This man is an FBI agent," he said. "What would an FBI agent want with you?" he asked, looking at the three suspiciously, as another sedan pulled into the parking lot.

The medics pulled the gurney out of the back of the ambulance, and started checking Wilkes.

"Kids, you'd best be straight with me, or there will be problems," the officer said.

"Seriously, I don't know why he pulled a gun on us. I've never seen this guy in my life!" Alex said.

"I want a full statement from all of you," the officer said, and they nodded. He started with Alex while the medics checked Wilkes.

Still the sedan sat, its occupant making no move to get out of the car.

Liz noticed the car, but her thoughts were on Max. Her heart contracted as she thought of him out there on his own, minute by minute getting further away from them. He had looked at her as if she thought he were a monster.

But how could she think that? He'd saved her life.

There was something wholly different about Max. She knew that now. He was not just telekinetic. His abilities ran much deeper and were much more powerful than that. He'd let her see his soul, that wondrous light that was beautiful, him. She wondered if everyone's soul looked the same.

Where were his family? Who were his parents? He was unlike any other human being she'd ever met. No wonder the FBI wanted him. A person who could heal or harm with the power of his mind.....

"Ms. Parker?" the officer said.

Liz shook herself from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Can I get a statement?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. She corroborated her story with Alex's, that Wilkes had been acting strangely and had pulled a gun on them.

The officer was clearly suspicious, knowing that Wilkes was an FBI agent.

The officer took Maria's statement while Wilkes was strapped into the gurney. Liz fairly jumped when Wilkes suddenly screamed.

"Hurts! It hurts!" he yelled.

"What hurts?" the paramedic asked.

"My head," he cried his hands flying to it.

"Do you know your name Sir?" the medic asked.

Wilkes looked at him blankly.

"Your name," the medic prompted, and received no response.

"We're taking him in," the medic said to the officer. The officer nodded and the medics loaded Wilkes into the ambulance.

Suddenly the door to the sedan opened, and a dark-haired clad in a black suit and dark flashed his badge at the officer. FBI.

He glanced into the ambulance before motioning to the officer. The officer walked over to him, and they walked a short distance away having a quiet conversation.

Liz's stomach tightened in fear as the agent walked toward them.

"Your names," he said flatly, and they answered him one by one.

"The officer told me what your statements say, and to be frank, I don't believe a word of it. Where are you from?" he asked.

"Roswell, Agent....?" Alex ended questioningly.

"Pierce," he replied shortly. "What are you doing out here?"

"Visiting an Uncle," Alex said.

"Really...." Pierce said sarcastically. "Well maybe you can explain to me why Agent Wilkes would pull a gun on you."

"I have no idea," Alex said. "We're just as much in the dark as you are."

"Look," Pierce said menacingly, "I *am* going to find out the truth. Things will be a lot easier if you just tell me the truth."

Maria grabbed Liz's hand and squeezed it tightly. Liz looked at Alex, trying to mask the panic she was feeling. Was Alex going to tell?

"I just did," Alex replied. "Are we under arrest Agent Pierce?"

Pierce looked at him in disdain. He was silent for a long moment.

"No," he said finally.

"For now at least," he added.

"Cause we gave our statements, and we'd like to go home," Alex continued, as the police officer walked up.

"We may be contacting you again," the officer said, unaware of what just transpired.

"That's fine," Alex said tightly. "Is there anything else?"

"Not for now," the officer said, looking at Pierce questioningly.

"No," Pierce said, reining in his anger.

Alex took Liz's arm and the three walked to the Jetta under Pierce's watchful glare. His gaze does not leave the car until it disappears down the highway.

He walks toward the café, needing a cup of coffee. As he enters, he feels the cool rush of air hit his face from the restaurant's air conditioning.

He sits at the counter, hearing an excited voice in the kitchen. He sees a waitress through the hole through which the cook hands the food.

"Nothing exciting ever happens around here and now suddenly this! I mean, I am glad that those kids are all right, but wouldn't it be great if news crews show up here?" she said to the cook.

Pierce's ears perked up.

"Who would have thought? Ten minutes before I was serving those kids. They seemed normal enough, though the one was quiet, the dark-haired one. I thought he was with the other kids, but he must have left before all of this went down, cause he wasn't outside," she said.

"Which kid?" Pierce spoke up, and the waitress looked at him alarmed. She hadn't seen him sitting there.

"FBI," he said, flashing his badge. "Which kid are you talking about?"

"Um, a young kid, about the other's age," she said reluctantly, coming out from the kitchen.

"What did he look like?" Pierce asked.

"Dark-haired, brown eyes....a good looking guy," she said.

"Was this him?" Pierce asked, taking a photo out of his jacket and flashing it at her.

Her eyes widened.

"Yeah, that was him. Why do you have his picture? Is he a killer or something?" she asked alarmed.

Pierce decided against using Wilkes and Jeffrey's ploy. The murderer story seemed to be a bad idea. It was Jeffrey's, and a bad one. Now he'd disappeared, and Pierce was going to give him hell when he decided to show his face again. Jeffrey had done it before, disappearing to go on a bender at a bar. But this was a crucial time. Max had escaped, and if this is what he'd done, Pierce would make him wish he'd never been born.

"No," he said to the waitress. "He's a missing kid. His family is looking for him. We're looking for him."

"Oh that's a shame," she said sympathetically. "His family must be going through hell."

"Yes, it's been rough on them, which is why I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a call if you see him again. We want to get him back to his parents," he said, handing her his card.

"Yeah. Yeah sure," she said, putting the card into her apron.

"That'd be a big help," he smiled fakely.

Completely forgetting that he'd wanted coffee, he rose and bid her farewell.

As he walked outside, he grated. He knew something was up with those kids, and as soon as Wilkes was coherent, he'd find out what really happened. Until then, he wasn't going to let those kids out of his sight.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

The drive back to Roswell was tense. For a long while none of them spoke.

Finally Maria broke the silence.

"What did he do to you Liz?" she asked, looking at her from the front seat.

"I'm not exactly sure," Liz admitted. "I know I'd been shot, you all saw it. But he did something to me. He....healed me."

"How is that possible?" Alex said exasperated. "How is that scientifically possible?"

"I don't know Alex, but he did it, and when he did....I don't know, it was like I saw his soul," she said, almost dreamily.

"That's why the FBI wants him," she said. "I mean, think of the possibilities, of someone who can heal like that."

"It's scary," Alex said.

"No Alex. It's not scary. It's beautiful," she said, looking down at her hands.

"Well, not that I‘m not grateful that he saved your life, because I am, but I am glad that he's gone. He's the reason you got shot in the first place," he reminded her.

"Alex, do you remember our first day in first grade?" she asked.

"Yeah," Alex said.

"Do you remember how Pam Troy was beating me up, and you came and pushed her away, because she was doing it for no good reason? She was hurting me, and I didn't deserve it, and you knew it," she said.

"It's not the same thing," Alex said.

"Yes it is. Alex, I saw him. I saw that he is frightened, and that he hasn't done anything to deserve what they are doing to him," she said.

"But Liz, it's the FBI," Alex said.

"I know. And just because they are the government, doesn't make them automatically beni," she said.

PART EIGHT (Continued)

"Ok, ok. He doesn't deserve it. I am just glad you're ok," he said.

"I'm fine," Liz answered.

"I don't think that guy Pierce is going to let up on us anytime soon," Maria said worriedly. "He didn't believe us."

"We have nothing to worry about Maria. That guy Jeffrey is someplace where no one will find him, and Max is long gone. He isn't stupid enough to try to come near us again. Not after what happened with that Wilkes guy," he said.

"Yeah you're right," Liz said, a little sadly.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

Back at the Crashdown, Liz had to deal with Tom's disapproving looks as she walked in the front door after Alex dropped her off.

"Calling me that late at night is unacceptable," he said, without a greeting.

Liz was tired, and beyond irritable.

"You know what Tom? I don't care," she said, irritated. "My parents own this place, not you, and you aren't going to be ordering me around anymore. So just deal," she said, slamming through the kitchen doors, as the cook Jose applauded quietly in front of the grill. Liz flashed him a smile and continued upstairs. She couldn't wait to get a shower.

She went to her room and dropped her bag on the bed. The sweater she had been wearing was draped over it.

She sat down on the bed and picked it up, studying the hole in it. The wool was singed where the bullet had gone through it.

She sighed disconsolately. He'd saved her. He'd saved her and in doing so revealed his secret, to all of them. He'd risked everything to save her life.

He couldn't be sure of Alex, or Maria. Neither of them had given him any reason to think that they'd be able to handle his abilities without freaking out, and yet he'd done it anyway.

The scientist in her was curious. She'd never actually believed in people who could heal. She had heard stories all the time about people who miraculously made the most aggressive cancers disappear from terminal patients. But most of those people were associated with religions, and she'd only thought that if the person was actually healed that it was through the power of their own mind that so believed this person could take their disease away.

Liz believed in the power of the mind. She felt that people would eventually develop them to their full potential. But Max, Max healed her with the power of *his* mind. He'd made a bullet disappear, and he made her skin knit itself together. And that was amazing.

But now he was gone. She'd most likely never see him again, would never get to ask him all the questions she needed answers to.

Standing up, she pulled the tank off of her and slid her jeans down, stepping into the bathroom.

Turning on the water, she stripped herself of her remaining clothes and stepped in.

Standing under the hot water felt so good, she thought as she let it run over her face and hair, closing her eyes for a few long moments. More than anything she wanted to sleep.

She grabbed the soap and prepared to wash when she caught a glimpse of something. She looked down again and gasped, for on her chest was a handprint. A silver handprint. Max's handprint.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

Exhausted, he falls to the sand. He's run for hours, but he has nowhere to go. Now he feels more alone than ever.

Before, before he'd met the Alex, Maria and Liz, and experienced Liz's kindness, the aloneness was bearable. But now, with their absence, he was more afraid than ever.

He was so close to being able to get to the others. He could have been a normal boy. He could have bided his time in Roswell, waiting for an opportunity to rescue the others. Maybe he could have spent a little time with Liz.

But now, that was impossible. He'd revealed what he was to her. He'd shown her he wasn't like them, that he was different. And they would never accept him now, because he was a freak.

He cried out softly as another wave of pain washed over him from the others.

This one was particularly intense. What were they doing to them?

Miserably he curled up in a ball in the sand, hoping for some divine guidance, knowing he was completely alone.

*%*%*%*%*%*%%*%*%

Liz's eyes fluttered shut finally. She'd lain there for hours, thinking about what Max had done for her, how his healing had marked her. The mark had begun to feel pleasantly warm as the hours went on, and she was silently comforted by it. Because she felt in some strange way that she was connected to the beautiful boy who had risked everything to bring her back.

After her initial shock, she had gotten out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror, looking at the handprint for a long time, tracing her fingers over it, wondering what had made it appear. It didn't hurt. As she touched it, she felt a small pleasant vibration run through her body. She wanted to talk to Alex about it, but she knew she couldn't. He wouldn't understand, and neither would Maria. Maria would drag her to the nearest doctor, and that was the worst thing she could do right now. So she lay down on the bed, and just thought about the events of the past day.

Darkness was slowly descending over Roswell as she finally dropped off to sleep.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

The first thing she became aware of was a poiant sensation of fear that seemed to be coming from Max, and yet it wasn't. She felt his sadness, his helplessness, his acute aloneness. She didn't know where he was, and she couldn't see him, but she felt him. She tried to call out to him, to call him to her, but her plea was met with the same desolate feeling of being completely alone in the world.

It permeated her body and mind, overwhelming her, and she heard herself whimper in empathy.

"Make it stop," she whispered in her own head. "Please, make his hurt stop."

Instinctively, she trained and concentrated every ounce of her being in calling him to her again.

She felt his presence move toward her. It rushed at her and consumed her, and she was immersed in his world.

She heard his cry of pain and terror as blurry images suddenly became clear. He was lying on a table, strapped so he had nowhere to go. He struggled against the bindings, trying to get away from the robotic arm that hovered above him.

With surgical precision, a small rotating blade swung out of the arm, turning, making a high whining noise.

She stood paralyzed while she watched his eyes widen in fear as it lowered toward the center of his chest.

She wanted to move, but she couldn't.

And then his scream broke his paralysis, as the blade sliced his skin.

She ran to the table, looking at the instrument panel in panic, trying to figure out how to shut it off. She spotted the power switch and flipped it, killing the blade's rotation.

She looked desperately toward Max lying on the table, his chest rising and falling harshly, his eyes shut, whimpering a little.

"Max," she said softly, touching his hand, and his eyes opened in confusion, and she could see that he couldn't understand how she could be there.

"Oh Max," she said tearfully, as she looked at his chest, seeing the blood pool there where the blade had cut his skin.

He became completely motionless, just looking at her, moisture welling in his eyes.

Her breath hitching, she undid the binds that held him to the table, first his left hand and then his right, as he continued to stare at her, his brow furrowed in sadness and disbelief.

"It's going to be ok," she said, touching his hand, and suddenly he was up and leaned forward and his arms were around her waist tightly, and his head pressed against her chest as his shoulder rose and fell with his uneven breathing.

For a moment, she couldn't react, and then her arms came up from her sides, stroking his hair as she rested her cheek on the top of his head.

"You're ok now Max," she said softly. "You're ok...."

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

He struggled to remain in that dream world, to push away the desolate cold of the desert night. He wanted to be in her embrace. But the chilled wind brought him out of his slumber.

Night after night he had had the same dream, being cut by the monsters' machines, being unable to escape. It had been a reality for him, and it had been one he hadn't been able to escape. Until tonight. She'd been there. She'd stopped it. She'd saved him.

He could still hear her whispered murmuring.

"You're ok Max. You're ok," she'd said, as her hands had brought him comfort.

But it was a dream. She knew what he was now. She knew he was a monster, a freak, and had she been there, she'd have been glad he was being cut....wouldn't she?

He shivered as the air hit his skin and curled into a ball, trying to disappear, trying to forget that he'd learned that not all humans hurt.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%
TWO WEEKS LATER

Liz absently wiped the counter in the restaurant as she waited for the night crowd to wind down. She hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything since the morning she'd died.

Maria was right. Pierce had been back, questioning them, trying to catch them in a lie, but they all kept the same story. She knew eventually he would have to give up. Max hadn't come back. He was gone, for good.

She couldn't get him out of her head. The handprint had faded, but that ghostly warmth still remained in her chest, appearing at the oddest times.

She'd been having the same dream over and over again, about Max on the table, being tortured. Where was it coming from? Was it something she'd made up in her mind to explain the marks and burns on his body?

She wished more than anything that she could see him just one more time, to thank him for saving her life. But that was crazy. He would never come back here, not after what happened.

"Lizzie, you're finished here," her father said. "You look tired. Go on upstairs."

Liz looked up at her father.

"Thanks Dad. I am a little tired," she admitted.

She hadn't gotten much sleep since that day, because the same dream haunted her every night. His eyes. The pain, the fear in his eyes, and the complete hopelessness that emanated off of him as he launched himself into her arms broke her heart. She supposed the dreams would taper off eventually, but they were wreaking havoc on her sleep at the moment.

Slowly she trudged up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, into oblivion.

She didn't turn on the light as she entered her room, flopping down face-first on the bed.

Within moments, she was asleep.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%%*

He crouched at her window, drawn to the balcony and to her as he had been for so many nights. He felt safe being near her. Every night for the past ten nights, he'd slept under her window, and when the dreams came, she was there. He always left before dawn, moving on to the abandoned warehouse at the other side of town.

He'd stolen food here and there, but it hadn't been enough. He was pathetically thin. He knew he shouldn't be here, in Roswell, near Liz, but he couldn't help himself. The chaotic storm in his head was only calmed when he was in her proximity. Though he felt his powers becoming more defined, his physical weakness and lack of nourishment had caused him to leave his wounds to heal naturally, storing his energy in case he needed it.

For almost an hour he alternated between gazing in her window at her sleeping form and leaning against the wall of the building. Somehow he felt he needed to keep watch over her, and in turn he needed the peace her presence brought him.

He heard a small whimper come from inside the room and he started. Looking in the window.

She wasn't moving.

A few seconds later, another whimper rang out, and he made up his mind, quietly climbing in the window. Maybe he could take away her bad dream. He wouldn't even have to wake her. He could connect with her like he did that day, and take all the bad thoughts away.

Silently, he crept up to the bed and looked down into the troubled slumbering face of his angel.

*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

She was running. They were after her. The FBI. She was desperately trying to find Max. She knew he was here, but she couldn't see him. And they were getting closer.

She turned her head as she ran and saw the rotting corpse of Jeffrey lumbering toward her at an inhuman speed, and she screamed, trying to put distance between herself and the horrible apparition behind her. She felt him getting closer. If only she could find Max. She cried out frantically for him as she felt fetid breath on her neck and suddenly her arm was gripped by a bony rotting hand....

*%*%*%*%*%*%

"NOOOOO!" she screamed and sat up as a shadowy figure jumped away from her bed, tripping to get to the window. The light of the street lamp shown on his face, revealing his identity and she gasped.

"Max!" she said, and he froze, turning toward her. She caught sight of his anguished gaze, and he turned toward the window again.

"Wait....don't go, please...."