AUTHOR: Aurora
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: M/L
IMPROV#8: lilac -- amuse -- savor -- sky
DISCLAIMER: Still not mine... yet **mu ha ha**
SPOILERS: 'Departure'
DISTRIBUTION: Improv, lists, any sites who already archive my stuff, otherwise just ask.
FEEDBACK: you have to ask? Send it. girl292@hotmail.com
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This takes place a few weeks after the events of 'Departure'. I realize it has no real bearing on the events we've seen thus far in Season 3, I've just always felt that there was no way that Liz just accepted Max back as if everything was fine once Tess left. This is my take on what could have happened instead.
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Deconstructing Juliet
by Aurora
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//These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.//

~ Romeo and Juliet (II.6.9-11)

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His kisses taste like lies on her tongue and she pushes him away, afraid that she will suffocate if his skin lingers on hers for one second more. He reaches for her and she turns away, pretending to be suddenly mesmerized by the way the evening breeze drifts across the curtains.

(It's not that easy. It's not that easy.)

"Liz?"

She doesn't speak, doesn't turn around to see the hurt in his eyes, as she stands to cross the room and put some distance (not enough) between them.

She doesn't know what's wrong with her. By all accounts she should be happy, should be savoring the feel of him close to her and losing herself once again in his arms, his mouth, his lips. She should be reclaiming him as hers. But she can't, because she can't turn off her mind. Can't silence that rational voice that keeps reminding her of what he's done, of *who* he's done.

(Max slept with Tess killed Alex is dead on the inside I'm screaming.)

He smells like betrayal and she can't forget it. Can't keep her skin from crawling when his fingers brush up against her arm, wondering if he touched Tess like this too. She swallows the heavy lump that catches in the back of her throat and tries to remember that this is *Max*. Her Max. Max Evans who saved her life and bared his soul to her. Max whom she loves still and who she gave up every chance they had at happiness for. Max, with his soft voice and gentle hands, who she never, in a million years, thought would hurt her like this.

But he did, and she can't see past it. Can't pretend that the last six months never happened.

(Tess has been here where I am in his arms.)

Every time he smiles at her, every time he leans in to kiss her, that thought echoes through her mind, never letting her forget. As if she could ever forget. As if she can't see the truth written plain in his eyes, eyes that are no longer full of the wonder they once held for only her, but instead seem fractured with pain and worry.

He keeps it from her but she knows just the same. Knows that his heart no longer belongs to just her but is wrapped up and drowning in worry over a child he may never see. A child he created with another woman, the woman who murdered her best friend. She sees it all, when she allows herself to meet his gaze, and it causes a sliver of pain to spread through her limbs, making her skin burn, and she hates it, so she always looks away first.

She doesn't like to see herself in his eyes anymore. If she could bear to be honest with herself, she'd admit that she doesn't want him to look at her at all. Because when he does, it makes her face hot with anger and her throat tight with bitterness, and she forgets why she ever loved him in the first place.

She hates the way he looks at her now: like she's his last hope, his answer to everything. But it's all a lie.

All lies, and all for nothing, because Tess left anyway.

She lied to push him towards Tess and she's lying now, when she kisses him back, when she closes her eyes so he won't see the truth, she can't hide, revealed there.

(I may love you, but I don't want to die for you. I'm already dead.)

In the weeks since Tess left, she feels like she's been functioning on autopilot. Smile, nod, insert appropriate laugh for situation, hug, kiss... but never, under any circumstances, mention the way she feels like her heart has been torn out of her chest and hung around Max's neck like a trophy for all to see and be amused by.

She knows it's not intentional, knows that he has no idea of the pain that chokes her in her sleep, causing her to wake up gasping frantically for air in the middle of the night. Max doesn't know that she still dreams of Alex. That he comes to her with accusing eyes as she stands by his grave in the dark of her mind, clutching purple flowers that have begun to wilt, spreading their lilac petals to the wind like the tears she holds at bay when she's awake.

She'll never let Max know that every time she closes her eyes to kiss him, it's Alex's face she sees staring back at her, condemning her for willingly running to the arms of the enemy.

(I'm so sorry my friend is dead and buried the truth in my heart is broken.)

She's so very tired of pretending that everything's okay, of acting like she's not slowly being pulled apart piece by piece by the guilt and regret and hurt.

Every time Max tells her that he loves her, she has to bite her tongue to keep from asking him if he really means it. She can't help it, all can she hear is the hitch in his voice when she asked him if he loved Tess, and he hesitated as he answered.

(Not like I love you.)

She remembers the way his words stung her skin and she didn't know what to say, just knew that she needed to get out of the Jeep and as far away from him as possible, before she gave into the sobs that clouded her vision and burned the back of her throat.

(He didn't say no. He loves her. He. Didn't. Say. No.)

It was all she could think as she hurried through the doors of the Crashdown, clutching his necklace in her trembling hands, and wondering when she was ever going to get used to her life being ripped apart at a moment's notice by Max Evans's hands.

Hands that once saved her life, and now bruise her heart.

"Liz?"

His voice travels down her spine like an electric shock and she shivers, wrapping her arms tightly around her body to keep her feelings inside.

He is standing right behind her now, breathing down her neck with promises he can't keep and expectations she can't handle.

Not like this.

"I think you should leave Max."

She does not turn around but she can feel him stiffen, can feel the air between them change, tension and hurt rolling off him in waves that lap at her face and sting her eyes.

Seconds stretch into minutes that claw at her rapidly weakening resolve before he backs down and speaks.

"If that's what you want..."

"It is."

She doesn't recognize her own voice when it answers him. It seems so hollow, so tired, so... old. She can hear Max moving around in the room behind her, gathering his keys and jacket, and she holds her breath as he turns toward her to leave through the window.

She doesn't want him to touch her. God, please don't let him touch her. She couldn't bear it if his flesh on hers caused her to have a flash. She doesn't want him to have access to her in that way, doesn't want to risk being able to feel what he feels for Tess and his child. It just might be that last straw that sends her over the edge and she can't deal with that right now.

Right now, all she wants is for him to leave before that last shred of self-respect left within her cracks, and she begs him to stay.

He pauses at the window to watch her face for some clue as to her sudden shift in demeanor, and finds none. He reaches out to touch her before he leaves, and freezes when she flinches away from him. He pulls his hand back and turns to leave, waiting for her to say something, anything to end the desperate ache that's steadily growing in the pit of his stomach. But she does not spare him even a glance, and he continues through the window with a heavy heart, staring up at the clear night sky to keep himself from looking back at the window he can hear being shut and latched tight just behind him.

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end
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