PART NINE

Her voice stopped him in his tracks. Though he was afraid of what she might say to him, or what she might now think of him, he froze almost against his will.

It was unbearable, this. To be near her, or rather for her to know that he was near. Watching her silently from the window while she slept, was safe. Lying under her window in the light slumber he had adopted since getting out of his prison, was safe.

In his dreams, she had saved him. In his waking moments two weeks ago, she had saved him. Yet what did she think of him? Was she repulsed? Was she afraid?

He bowed his head slowly, afraid to turn around, yet afraid to leave. Because as much as he was afraid of what she might say to him, he was more afraid to run away, to never hear that comforting voice again that once heard again tonight, became all the more beautiful, all the more precious, all the more real.

How many times in the past two weeks had he wished he was normal? How many times had he dreamed of he and the others, going to school, having friends, having normal teenaged cares, whatever they might be?

Their lives had been ones of torture, fear, isolation, and dashed hopes. Until now. Now he had the chance to set them all free, if he could only get his bearings. But it seemed he wandered aimlessly, feeling the frightened sensations coming from the others. He didn't know how to get back to his prison. He didn't know how to help them. Yet.

If only he could get his strength back. If only he could heal himself. If only he could stop himself from coming here under the cover of night to watch this beautiful creature named Liz slumber, oblivious to his presence.

When he healed her, her soul was open to him, and he caught a glimpse of the true beauty of her spirit, her kindness and her compassion. She was even more beautiful on the inside than on the outside. Replaying those moments when he was inside her being kept him going many times during the past weeks. That warmth of her gentle soul had comforted him when the others threatened to overwhelm him with their despair.

He had caught images of her past. She was enthralled with a young man about his age. Someone named Kyle. He thought this Kyle was probably the luckiest person to walk the face of the earth. To have someone like Liz feel that way about him....

"Don't go," she said quietly, and he winced at the very sound of her voice.

He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but wait for the inevitable, her words of disgust, her condemnation of him for what he was.

He heard her quick and ragged intake of breath, and the soft footfalls against the carpeted floor and yet still he remained crouched, looking at the floor.

Would his heart break with her words? He feared he was about to find out.

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

The sight of Max was such a shock to her senses, that she felt tears welling in her eyes. She had thought him long gone from Roswell, from New Mexico. The constant dreams, she thought, were an unconscious reminder to her of how much he had been on her mind.

She walked slowly toward him, her breath ragged, choking back sobs. He was here, he was real, her savior. She had wanted more than anything to see him once more, to thank him, but now all words eluded her as she looked at him, crouched over, decidedly thinner, decidedly more afraid.

But why? Had something else happened to him? Why would he risk coming back here, when the FBI and Pierce were still so close?

She padded around him and stood in front of his huddled form, and yet still he didn't move, didn't look up. She saw the ragged rise and fall of his rib cage through his shirt.

"Max," she said softly, "where have you been?"

Her question was met with silence.

She gently put her hand on his cheek, and he flinched away.

"Max, I'm not afraid of you," she said. "I....I'm so glad you came back, because I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life."

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

Was he hearing her right? He didn't dare to dream it. His eyes grew blurry.

Her hand was on his cheek again, softly stroking it and the light rough bristles that had grown there, and this time he didn't flinch away. This time he dared to believe that what she said might be true.

Slowly, he lifted his head to look up into the dusky depths of her eyes.

He did not see hate. He did not see fear. What he did see was gratitude and gentle warmth emanating from them.

She took his hand and stood up, and he slowly stood up with her. She looked him up and down and when her eyes met his again, they were filled with tears.

"What happened to you, Max?" she asked quietly. "Why did you run away?"

He lowered his head again before answering.

"I thought you would be afraid, because of what I did to Wilkes," he said. "When you ran in front of me....why, why did you run in front of me?" he asked miserably. "I was nothing to you, and you almost died because of me. Why?"

"Max, you were protecting us. I know you'd never hurt us. I only knew you that short time, but I am more sure of that than I am of anything," she said.

"I....I knew, something was telling me that you were special, that there was something different about you. You have a gentle soul Max, and when you healed me, I saw it. I saw what I knew to be true even before it was right there in front of me," she said.

"You don't know what I am capable of," he said, unable to meet her eyes, thinking of the horrible dream he had had about Pierce, and what he did to him in that dream. He knew that he could do those terrible things, and he had felt a satisfaction mixed with the horror at the image of Pierce burning.

"Max, you saved my life. Wilkes shot me, and you saved my life. I don't know what you've been through in your life before you escaped them, but you are *not* a monster. Anyone would have done the same thing to Wilkes if they were in your situation," she said.

Still, he did not look up. He couldn't. Suddenly, what she thought of him, what she was saying to him was overwhelming. And so he listened, unable to take the chance of looking into her eyes only to realize she was going to take everything she said back.

"I know you're different," she said. "I knew it even before you healed me, even before you did what you did to Wilkes. But just because you have these gifts, it doesn't mean that you aren't a real person, with real feelings. I don't know that there is any other human being on the planet that has the gifts that you do, but it isn't a curse, and you aren't some sort of freak. Those gifts could help people. I know that it doesn't seem that way, because you've been sort of punished for them, but I know in my heart that you are a good person Max," she finished.

Max's eyes closed and his jaw tightened. She didn't know. Even after seeing what he'd done, she thought he was human, all human. And this is why she could look on him and not be afraid.

What would she say if she knew what he really was, a freakish melding of human cells and something else? He knew he was not of this earth. He did not remember where he came from, but he read enough to know that his birth was not a normal human birth. He'd been born from a pod, not from a womb, at a far more advanced age than a human child. He'd had no mother. He'd had no father. He'd matured much like an insect in a cocoon, and the thought of it disgusted him. He knew it would disgust her too.

But she didn't have to know his terrible secret. She'd never have to know. It was weak and cowardly not to tell her the truth he knew, but her closeness was too enticing, embracing, comforting. Soon he'd be gone again, to help the others, but for now he could keep his secret. She knew about his powers, and that was enough.

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

Finally, he raised his eyes again. As they met hers, knew that there were secrets he kept. His haunted gaze, mixed with sadness and fatigue, made her throat tighten. But she would not push it. He'd been through enough, and somehow she knew that whatever they were would not bring any harm to her.

"You look so tired," she said. "Where have you been sleeping?" she asked.

"In a warehouse on the other side of town," he mumbled, and outside your window, he added silently in his head.

"Well, you're staying here tonight," she said, resolutely, leading him over to the bed.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said.

"I don't care," she replied, putting her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down.

He sank wearily onto the mattress, and the light that fell on his face from the street light accentuated the deep hollows in his face, the dark rings around his eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Stay here and I'll get you something to eat," she said, letting go of his hand reluctantly, afraid that he would leave while she was gone from the room.

"Promise me you'll stay," she said, "that you won't leave."

After a pause, he nodded.

With one last glance over her shoulder, she silently left the room and quietly went down the stairs to the kitchen, being careful not to wake her parents.

She could not ignore the thrill she felt at seeing him once more as she grabbed bread to make a sandwich for him and put some water on the stove to boil.

She didn't know why he was back, but she was glad that he came. She had been thinking about him constantly over the past two weeks. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask. But her questions could wait. Right now, knowing he was here was enough.

She'd day dreamed about him constantly, the warm sensations in her chest getting slightly stronger whenever she thought of him. His eyes had haunted her, the ghostly sensation of his touch on her skin a constant reminder of what he had risked to save her.

The rumbling of the teapot brought her back from her thoughts, and she quickly turned the water off, pouring it into a cup, dropping teabag into it. While it soaked, she finished making the sandwich, and she took the cup and plate and silently crept back up the stairs, a niggling fear tugging at her that he would be gone.

But as she peered through her doorway, she saw him in the same spot she had left him. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Quietly, she shut her door and locked it, in case her parents got up.

His gaze followed her as she crossed the room and set the plate and cup on the night-stand next to him, before sitting in the floor in front of him.

Without saying a word, he slid off the bed, sitting across from her on the floor, cross-legged.

For long moments the looked at each other, suddenly unsure of what to say. Finally Liz spoke.

"About Wilkes Max...." she said

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

His breath caught in his throat. He knew it was going to come up sooner or later, the explanation for what he had done to Wilkes. But the truth was, he really didn't know. In that moment of panic, he had willed all his energy at Wilkes while throwing up an energy shield around them. He remembered the look on Alex's face, the look of shock and confusion.

"What is that Max?" he had shouted at him, but Max couldn't tell him. Max was just as shocked as he was. He knew he possessed power. He could feel it being curbed by the chip all these years. But he didn't know what it could do, or how to control it. Suddenly his instincts had taken over, and had resulted in Wilkes being thrown to the ground.

But he had only a split second to think about that because Liz was lying there on the ground, and there had been so much blood....

"Max," Liz prompted gently.

"I don't know," he said fiercely. "I don't know what I did to him. I couldn't control it. It just happened."

He saw her eyes widen in comprehension and she vigorously shook her head.

"No, no that's not what I meant," she said. "I think I know what you did to him. And it's still working. He'd lost his memory of what happened to him. I don't think he's gotten it back or Pierce would have come and arrested us," she said.

"Pierce?" he said alarmed. "Pierce was there?"

"Yeah," she said. "He showed up after you ran away, and...."

Max stood up suddenly.

"I have to go," he said urgently. "He knows. He has to know that I had something to do with it. I've put you all in danger," he said, going to the window, but Liz grabbed his arm.

"No!" she said fiercely. "You're not leaving. Not now, not when I've just found you again."

"Liz, I can't stay," he said miserably. "If I had known he was there, I never would have come here. I never would have come back."

"Max," she said quietly, "he doesn't know anything, not for certain. He didn't know you were there, and Wilkes obviously can't tell him anything. Is what you did to him permanent?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Stay, please," she said. "It's the middle of the night. No one knows you're here. There are some things I want to say to you, and you need to clean up, rest and get some food. I promise you, nothing will happen while you're here."

He stood still in indecision, neither moving toward or away from the window.

"Please Max," she said again, craning her head to catch his eyes.

Slowly he nodded his head, and she dropped her hand from his arm.

A moment later they were sitting again on the floor across from each other.

"What did he say to you....Pierce?" Max asked in a low voice.

"That can wait Max. You need something in your stomach. Eat first, and then you can get cleaned up. We'll talk about this stuff later," she said.

He knew what he looked like. He was pathetically thin, and this only emphasized the gaunt look of his face, and the hollows under his eyes.
He must have looked a sight, he knew. He was embarrassed.

She leaned near him, reaching behind him for the food she'd brought up, and for a second he shut his eyes, as he relished the smell of wildflowers that wafted from her hair. Everything about her was assaulting his senses, her beauty, her scent, the lightest puff of her breath he felt on his neck as she reached around him.

"Max, are you ok?" she asked concerned, and his eyes snapped open.

"Yeah....yeah," he stuttered. "Just tired I guess."

"Maybe you'll feel a little better after you eat something," she offered, and he nodded.

He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he bit into the sandwich. It was probably just about the best thing he'd ever tasted. The tea was warm on his throat, and before he knew it he was finished with both.

Liz offered to make him another sandwich, but he shook his head. She got up and went to her closet, pulling out a towel, and showed him to the bathroom.

"You can use the shower," she said. "You won't wake my parents. Use whatever you need to."

He nodded and stepped into the bathroom, turning the light on and closing the door behind him.

He glanced around. Even here, there was evidence of Liz everywhere. On the sink were her hair-clips and her toothbrush. Hanging on the back of the door was a big fluffy robe of hers. He'd seen her wear it one cold night last week.

Wearily, he removed his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water on. He spied two bottles in a basket in the corner of the shower. Picking one up, he opened the bottle and tentatively smelled it's contents. Wildflowers, as he thought, a small smile appearing on his face. He had smelled something like this before. The Professor had brought scents in to his cell, giving him sensory tests. He remembered the first time he had smelled it, and it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It actually gave him the nerve to ask the Professor about it, where it came from. The Professor had pulled out a book to show him what flowers looked like, and Max was amazed that something so beautiful could also smell so beautiful.

"What purpose do flowers serve?" he asked curiously, before he could stop himself.

The Professor humored him with a rare smile.

"They serve as food to many animals and insects, and they in turn help to spread the pollen, or seeds. People often give flowers to each other as a gift. Men often give them to women because they smell nice, and because they are pleasing to look at," the Professor said, and Max had nodded.

"Why do only men give them to women? Why don't women give them to men as well?" he asked, confused.

"Flowers aren't considered masculine," the Professor had replied, "they are considered feminine, or for women."

This confused Max even further. What did it matter? If something was beautiful, all should enjoy them, man or woman. But he decided not to press the point, and remained silent.

Realizing he was wasting time, Max shook himself out of his thoughts and turned the shower on and grabbed some soap, rubbing away all the grime of living on the streets for the past two weeks.

His hands ran over his rib cage, and he paused, looking down, as he felt the bony ridges that were displayed more prominently than he had realized.

He sighed, knowing that he must look pathetic.

Pushing that thought out of his mind he rinsed off and paused, looking again at the shampoo. He knew he would feel better with clean hair, but he was hesitant to use it.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he poured some of it into his hand and rubbed it into his hair. Once that was done, he stood under the spray, eyes closed, just enjoying the hot water running down his body as it rinsed the lather out of his hair, flinching when the soap ran into the cuts on his back. Some had not healed. Every movement that he made, stretched the skin, making healing difficult.

Soon enough it was time to get out.

Eyeing the toothpaste on the counter, he made a makeshift toothbrush with his finger, rubbing the toothpaste around his mouth. Hygiene was one thing he was allowed in the compound, if only for the comfort of the agents and technicians. It wouldn't do for them to have to smell him while they performed their tortures on him, he thought bitterly.

He stood before the mirror, wiping away the steam as he looked at his reflection. He scowled as he looked at the hair that had grown on his face. He was a mess.

Opening the medicine cabinet and found a package of razors. Looking around under the sink, he found some sort of soap in a bottle that she must use to shave her own legs. Gingerly he rubbed it on his face, trying to soften the hair.

A half-hour later, he had done a presentable job of shaving. He felt a great sense of satisfaction in doing it himself. He'd never been allowed to in the compound. One of the agents did it usually only when one of the higher-ups in the agency came around. They made it appear that he was being treated well, on the surface at least, and that was as far as these men looked. They did not know a quarter of the hell he had been subjected to at the sadistic hand of Pierce, with no one to hear him scream.

The hot water had loosened his muscles and made him tired. He was bone tired.

He started to dress himself, and then looked at his shirt. It was filthy. Not wanting to put it back on, he carried it out him.

Liz didn't hear him come out of the bathroom, and he had a precious few seconds to look at her unobserved.

She sat by the window, looking up at night sky. Her lustrous thick hair cascaded down her back, unfettered by clips. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched her, her elbows resting on her knees, her head upturned to catch sight of the glittering stars above. Her skin was flawless, illuminated by the artificial light of the street lamps outside, and the luminous glow of the moon high in the sky.

He thought again of the one named Kyle, and wondered what he was like. He admitted to himself that when he wished he was a normal teenager these past few weeks, he had wished he could be like Kyle, someone who Liz could fall for. But it would never be. They were too different. He felt foolish for even thinking of it. He would have to settle for this one night to be near her.

He really was pathetic. He could smell his own hair, and the wildflower shampoo, and he was secretly happy about it. At least for a short time after he left in the morning, he would have that scent as a reminder of her.

He stepped forward, and the floor creaked, drawing her attention.

Her eyes widened for a moment, and he looked down at the floor self-consciously.

He must not be much of an improvement after the shower, he thought. He wasn't much to look at to begin with, but the past two weeks had taken their toll on him. Did he really look *that* bad? He wondered.

"I think I have one of Alex's sweatshirts," she mumbled, as she went to the closet and dug through it.

Locating the garment, she pulled it out of the closet, and tentatively walked over to him, holding out for him.

He took it from her and looked into her eyes. What he thought he saw there made his heart skip a beat for a moment. It was something almost imperceptible and was gone almost the instant he saw it, but it made his stomach tighten perceptibly. He didn't understand what it was, but something deep inside him responded to it.

But then she turned away from him, and he was sure he had just imagined it. After all, what did he have over Kyle? Kyle was the one that she longed for. All he could bring to her life was trouble.


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

Liz couldn't have helped staring. Though Max was extremely thin, the shower and shave had done wonders for his appearance. Her eyes had grazed his chest and upper body. Not even an ounce of extra weight remained on him, and in fact, his ribs stuck out quite prominently, but the graceful low slope of his shoulders and long neck over-rode that. The muscles in his arms seemed to be even more prominent with the further weight loss since she'd seen him last. His skin had a slightly olive tone to it, and for the first time, she had wondered of his ancestry.

As she had watched his head lower once again, she realized he was probably embarrassed that she was looking at him in such a way. She had chided herself for being so brazen, and went to her closet.

Quickly, she masked it, and turned around, allowing him to put the warm shirt on.

Her face burned with embarrassment. What was wrong with her, looking at him like that?

"Liz," he said softly, and she turned to see him looking at her self-consciously, Alex's sweatshirt, which under normal circumstances wouldn't have fit him, hung on his shoulders.

"I....I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stared," she started, and he interrupted her.

"No, no I know what I look like," he said apologetically.

Liz bit her lip as she realized he had misunderstood him again. He thought that she was repulsed or something!

"Oh no Max! That's not what I meant. That's....that's not what I meant at all. I....God, this is embarrassing," she said, her face turning red.

He looked at her, not understanding.

"I....let's just forget it," she mumbled, walking over to the bed and stopping to face him.

Seeing the weariness that lined his face, her own softened.

"Max, you really look like you need to get some sleep," she said.

He nodded.

"I am a little tired," he admitted. She sat on the bed and waited for him to take the other side, but instead he lowered himself to the floor next to it.

"Max, you're not sleeping on the floor," she said. "There's plenty of room up here."

"I'm fine here," he said, looking up at her.

"No," she said, standing up. "There's no sense in being on the cold floor. It's not like we haven't done this before," she said, trying to make a joke out of it. The truth was she was afraid he would leave, and she knew he thought that he frightened her, which was the furthest thing from the truth. It frightened her more that he might disappear, and after almost losing hope that she would ever see him again, she wasn't about to let him disappear.

"I think I'd better-" he started.

"Max, I think you should just get up here," she said. "I know you think I am afraid of you, or that I'm being nice to you because I owe you something, but that's not the truth. The truth is....the truth is, I feel like we were brought together for some reason. Like things were meant to happen this way. I think that we were meant to be....friends," she finished lamely, looking at her hands, knowing that was not exactly what she was feeling in her heart, but she hadn't the courage to say more yet.

"Friends?" he asked softly.

"Yeah....friends. And friends can trust each other implicitly. Do you want to be friends?" she asked.

With a half smile, he looked up at her.

"I've never had a friend," he said.

"Well you have one now, if you want one," she said, patting the bed. "Now come up here."

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm positive," she answered. "We both need some sleep. Come on."

Slowly, he rose from the floor and walked to the other side of the bed as she lay down. She felt the mattress shift slightly as he settled in gingerly next to her.

She turned to face him, and for a moment was caught up in his eyes, which glittered softly in the dim light of the room. For awhile, they didn't say anything.

"What are you going to do Max? I mean where were you going to go?" she asked.

For a long moment, he was silent, as if contemplating what to say.

"I was going to go back," he said.

"Back? To the compound? Why Max?" she asked alarmed. "That's suicide!" she said, propping her head up on her elbow. Why in the world would he want to go back there? Pierce would surely kill him.

"I have to," he said quietly.

"For what Max? What could be so important that you would risk your freedom, everything?" she asked.

"There are others like me. I need to help them," he said.

"Max, how can you help them?" she asked. "You barely escaped yourself."

He looked troubled for a moment.

"I can't leave them there," he said. "What I went through....they're still being tortured. They're still in that hell," he said angrily.

Liz could sense he was holding something back.

"What are they like?" she said.

"I don't know," he said. "I've never seen them."

"But how...." Liz started to say.

"I just know. I know they are still there, and they're still alive, and they're so scared," he said, his eyes filling with tears. "I can't leave them. I....owe this to them."

The tortured look of pain that crossed his face pierced her heart.

Instinctively, she put her hand out to caress his cheek.

"Let me help you Max," she said. "I can help you find the compound, on the computer. If you have to go back, I'll help you," she said, laying her head back onto the pillow.

"Why do you want to help me Liz?" he asked. "Why would you put yourself in danger? Because this is dangerous. Knowing me....is dangerous," he said miserably, knowing that he should have left, but was too weak to do it. She didn't know the truth about him, and that one piece of truth would probably change her feelings forever.

Liz looked at him in disbelief. How could anyone who knew him even the slightest bit not help him? How could anyone turn their back on such a gentle soul?

"Because it's you Max. Because from the moment I saw you I knew you were special, like something inside me told me to go with my heart. And my heart told me that someone needed to help," she said.

His eyes met hers for a moment, and time stood still.

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

He was feeling emotions he had never experienced before. A curious lump formed in his throat at her words. His body was engulfed with a myriad of responses that were all new to him. The sight of her hair cascading across her shoulder made him itch to reach out and touch it. The graceful curve of her neck called out to his lips to touch it. Her bright eyes held him enraptured. He could look into them for hours. Her hand on his cheek was like the touch of the softest cloth on his skin. The warmth that radiated from her body in their close proximity beckoned him to come closer, to be enveloped in her embrace.

He had the strangest urge to kiss her.

Kiss, he thought wildly. He'd read of it. "To engage in mutual touching or caressing with the lips." When he read it, it sounded utterly ridiculous to him, but staring at her beautiful soft lips made him want to touch hers, to taste hers.

All rational thought flew from his head as he tentatively leaned toward her, seeing her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as he moved closer. But she did not move away.

Her eyes slowly shut as his lips came into contact with hers, and a surge of electric energy seemed to race through his body as he met her pliant silky lips.

A rush of images flooded his mind of her parents kissing her goodnight, her grandmother gently kissing her goodbye. A little boy chastely touching his lips to hers inside a circle of other children, a bottle lying between them at their feet. And the languorous invasion of her mouth by Kyle....

Abruptly, he pulled away, ashamed of what he had done. She had another who held her heart.

"I'm sorry," he whispered coarsely, as he looked at her face, her eyes still closed. Even now, she was too kind to say no.

Slowly her eyes opened.

"Max, I...." she started, and he put his finger to her lips.

"I think we should sleep," he said, moving away from her.

"But Max," she protested softly.

"Please Liz, I'm tired," he said, turning over, not wanting her to see the anguish in his face.

"Goodnight Max," she said quietly.

"Goodnight Liz," he answered.

He lay there for a long time, listening to her breathing behind him, finally evening out in sleep. He wondered what it must be like to know that someone like Liz feels that way about you. He felt an irrational jealousy toward Kyle. Why? He was a part of Liz's life that he knew nothing about. There was alot he didn't know about Liz.

Thing was, he wanted to know more, alot more. And that was dangerous. He would be best to accept her help to find the compound and then move on. He wasn't meant to feel the way he did about someone like Liz, who was human, who needn't be involved in all of this, the chaos that was his life.

But it didn't stop him from wishing things were different, that he was different. He'd wished that for a long time, for different reasons.

He never thought he could care about a human. To him, all his life, humans had hurt him, imprisoned him, hated him. Yet, he wanted to be all human, because if he was, then he would be free to roam, free of pain, free of fear. And he had feared humans, until that night he met Liz Parker's eyes, and his feelings had changed forever.

Exhaustion was overwhelming him, and he welcomed it, welcomed the dark bliss that would take away the wishes and what-ifs that clouded his mind, because as much as he wished it it wasn't meant to be. It could never be.

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

4 AM

Something strange dragged her from her dreams. A foreboding sense that something was very wrong.

Cold metal pressed against her head jarred her from her sleep rudely. She gasped as a strong arm quickly wrapped around her throat as she was dragged out of bed.

Sheer panic gripped her as she frantically looked on as Max jumped out of the bed.

"Don't even try it," a voice growled to him, and she felt terror grip her heart as she recoized it.

Pierce....