Author: Karen aka Midwest Max

Category: UC Max/Maria, Maria's POV

Rating: R

Part One

The quarry. Noonish.

I watch him swim across the quarry, his tanned arms rising and falling above the water in a graceful, consistent stroke. He's so far out now that he is nothing but a small dot to me. I hope aliens float, because if he gets in trouble there's no way I can help him.

He reaches the little island in the middle of the quarry and pulls himself out of the water. I watch him shake his head like a dog, the water spraying in a thousand directions. Then he wipes his face and I see him squat to look at something.

I don't know how all of this started with Max. It just happened. One day I kind of realized I liked him and he kind of realized he liked me and here we are. I don't know what it is that we have. Friendship? Absolutely. Strong like? Definitely. Love? I sigh just thinking about it.

I thought I would never love anyone but Michael Guerin. But Michael became baggage. I'm sure in some way I still love him, that I will always love him, but I couldn't take it any more. I couldn't take him being so fickle and moody. "Get away from me, Maria - where have you been, Maria?" "I don't want a relationship - you're not seeing someone else, are you?" It became exhausting. I guess someone tossed the last straw of hay on this camel's back and it broke. I simply couldn't do it any more.

Max is not Michael. Not to any degree, except for the fact that they were both hatched. Max blames no one for his situation - Michael blames everyone. I never really understood what Liz saw in Max. He seemed so intense and, well, not fun. But I was wrong. He is intense, and sometimes he isn't much fun, but he's like an onion. Yes, I just compared him to an onion. You have to peel the layers to see what's underneath, and oddly enough sometimes those layers make you cry.

I guess it all started when Liz went away to her aunt's that one summer and Michael was ignoring me. What an awful, heart-wrenching time for Max and me. We'd sit up until all hours of the night commiserating over our lost loves. I got to the point where I'd look forward to his call, or some nights he would even show up outside of my window. We'd sit on my bedroom floor, away from the door so Mom wouldn't hear us talking, and just spill our guts. Sometimes we'd laugh; a lot of times we'd cry. Misery loves company and we were both excellent company at that point.

But that is when I really got to know Max Evans. I didn't feel more than friendship for him at that point, but once things started to cave between me and Michael and between Max and Liz, I knew there was something more there. He knew it, too.

Our first date. Well, we never really had a first date. We've never really done the whole dating thing. We just kind of fell into this relationship. He never asked me out, I never asked him out. We just started doing things together and the rest is history.

I shield my eyes and watch him as he surveys the shore of the quarry island. He picks something up, turns it over, tosses it into the water. He's an inquisitive one, my Max. I'll never be as smart as he is. Liz probably was, but I'll never be. And I don't think that Max minds. I think all of the science talk got to him after a while. Max and I don't talk about school - other than to gossip. Funny, that. Who would've thought that occasionally Max likes to dish? Of course, he always looks guilty afterward, but I'm working on him.

I think he laughs more now that he is with me. I don't remember him laughing so much when he was with Liz. They had this whole intense, I've-seen-into-your-soul thing going on. I don't know if Max has ever seen into my soul, but I know I haven't seen into his. I've only scratched the surface of that onion.

Max slips back into the water and starts swimming back to shore. I watch him come closer, until he pulls himself out of the water only a few yards away from me. He smiles - it's a wide, serene smile. I smile back as I watch him walk over to the blanket, to me. He flops down on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath from his swim. In wonder, I watch his muscles expand and contract. He works that body like no man I have ever met. Michael didn't care about how in shape he was - Max is borderline obsessed with it. But I don't mind because I get to touch that body.

Speaking of which…I twist my body so that I'm looking him in the face. He lifts the arm that is shielding his eyes from the sun and watches me as I move my lips toward his abdomen. He thinks he knows what is coming, and I think I see his breathing quicken even more. I lower myself closer until my lips touch his skin. He tastes salty, wet. Then I open my mouth, press my lips against his stomach and blow as hard as I can. His muscles tighten as he laughs loudly. Yeah, I'll bet Liz Parker never made belly farts on his tummy.

In an instant he flips me onto my back and straddles me, tickling the living daylights out of me. I laugh to the point where I can't breathe, but he's relentless. He knows all of the spots, and the bikini I am wearing has exposed all of them to his wicked fingers.

"Stop!" I finally manage to scream. "You're gonna make me pee!"

He does stop. He sit astride me, his lips spread into a wide grin. I have to laugh at his expression. Who could look at that face and not smile? I reach up and put my hand behind his neck, pull his mouth down to mine. His body presses against mine, pushing me into the rock surface of the quarry. Max is an excellent kisser. While Michael was impatient, sometimes sloppy, Max takes his time and savors every moment. And he's not sloppy - I never feel the need to wipe my hand across my mouth after we've kissed. He can be urgent, though; his kiss does not lack passion.

We lie there for a while, the sun beating down on us, our lips moving against each other's. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and I'm not sure if it's from the swim, from the tickle fight, or from our closeness. I'd like to think the latter.

Eventually he breaks our kiss and shifts some of his body weight off me. He keeps a leg over my hip. Leaning on one elbow, he plays with a strand of my hair. With my fingertips, I trace a line down his chest.

"You're so tan," I tell him.

He nods, looking down at his chest.

"I never tan," I pout.

He gives a half smile and waves his hand across my forearm. It turns tan instantly. I can't help it - I scream. He looks startled and puts my arm back the way it was.

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes going straight into kicked-dog mode.

I laugh. I had momentarily forgotten that this is Max - he can control his powers and put anything back that he changes. Unlike others I have dated. Not to mention names, Michael Guerin.

"It's okay," I tell him. "You just startled me."

He looks sad. "You'll never get used to it, will you? My being different?"

No, I probably won't. But that's just another layer of the onion. It's not a bad thing. It's one thing that makes Max distinctively Max.

I shake my head. "Probably not."

He looks stung for a moment, then he bursts out laughing. I know why he is laughing - Liz would have assured him that it was okay to be different, that it made him special. Not me. I'm blunt.

"You'll never get used to me being honest, will you?" I retort.

He shakes his head and kisses my neck.

"I could get used to that, though," I say, my body shivering from the sensation. He kisses my collarbone. "And that, too." He moves lower, pushing aside my bikini top. "Oh, yeah, definitely that."

He laughs again and recovers my exposed breast. "You're never serious, are you?" he asks.

I shrug. "You haven't given me a reason to be."

And he hasn't. Not once I have I had to go medieval on his ass for something insensitive he has done. Not once has he stood me up, made promises he didn't keep. He has given me no reason but to be happy. And as for serious conversations, we've already had all of those - on my bedroom floor or on the phone when we were both miserable. What is there to be serious about?

But he suddenly looks serious. The laugh lines are gone from those amazing eyes as he strokes my hair. His other hand smoothes the skin along my ribs. He's confusing me.

"Do you know what you mean to me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I can't respond. I don't know what I mean to him. He waits patiently and finally I shake my head.

He gives a little smile. "You're the most honest person I know, Maria Deluca."

I smile in return.

"What do I mean to you?" he quizzes.

I think I have gotten too used to being asked to not express my emotions. I can't form words for some reason and the close proximity of our bodies isn't helping, nor are his steady motions against my side. I push him aside gently and sit up. He looks at me in bewilderment.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks.

I shake my head and look down at my painted toenails. "I'm just not used to this."

He touches my shoulder. "To what?"

"Being asked how I feel." I give a little snort. "I'm used to people not wanting to know how I feel about them."

He blinks and his expression changes to one of understanding. "I'm not like Michael," he says gently. Well, he can be just as blunt as I can, can't he?

I laugh. "I know you're not. But, I spent so long harboring all of my feelings, it's hard for them to come out."

He gives a little shrug. "Okay, we'll start slow. I'll tell you something, you tell me something. Fair enough?"

"Oh, God. It's the alien version of the dating game."

He laughs again. I'll never get sick of his laugh. "Okay, we can call it that. I'll go first. The first question is - what is one thing I like about you?" He reaches up and touches my cheekbone. "Your eyes," he answers his own question. "You have the most incredible eyes." He kisses me there, then sits back. "Your turn. What is one thing you like about me?"

"Sorry, dude, I have to steal your answer," I tell him. "I don't have the most incredible eyes. You do."

He looks embarrassed.

"It's as hard to receive as it is to give, isn't it?" I tease him. He nods in response. I wait a beat, then repeat his initial question. "So what do I mean to you, Max?"

His gaze is steady, unwavering. "You're my best friend."

"Friend!" I shriek. "I thought for sure I'd be the love of your life!" I feel a rant coming on. "After I kiss you and bathe you and have sex with you and do, well, that with you - you call me a friend! I don't do that stuff with my friends, Max Evans, I do that with - "

"You are the love of my life."

I stop mid-sentence and just stare at him. He means it. I'm not ready for this. Not that I don't want to mean that much to Max- it's just that I haven't been able to process the whole idea yet. I do the only thing I know how - I make a joke. "Sure, now you say it."

His lips part in protest and for a moment I expect him to slip back into the Max he was when he dated Liz. But then he laughs again and pushes me back down on the blanket. He is kissing me and I suddenly want him more than air itself. I slide my hand inside of his wet swimming trunks and he breaks our kiss to look at me.

"We're kind of in public," he says in amazement.

"Anyone around?" I ask.

He glances up and over his shoulder. "I don't see anyone."

"Then they won't see us."

But his hand has moved to my wrist and stopped me. "Not here," he says. It isn't a command - it's more of a request.

I raise my eyebrows. "Why not?" I ask.

He looks like he is about to give a sensible, old-Max-Evans answer, but then he surprises me. "Because this rock is going to be a bitch on my knees."

I howl with laughter and pull my hand out of his trunks. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him tight to me. "Let's go somewhere that won't chafe your poor knees, then," I suggest.

As we gather our belongings and head back to the jeep, I think about the first time Max and I made love. I wish I could say it was some big dramatic setting, some passionate moment that drove us into each other's arms. But it wasn't. I'd already had sex with Michael. Max wasn't so lucky with Liz. It felt odd to be the experienced one, especially when it came to sex and Max Evans. Actually, we had been talking about sex and the news was spilled that I would no longer qualify to be a virgin sacrifice. Max acted a little surprised - I suppose he expected Michael would have told him - but then he had a million questions. By the time we were done with the Q&A, we realize that we both wanted to do it, so we did. Wow, that doesn't sound very romantic, does it?

I'm not in this for the romance. Max is a romantic guy, and he does romantic things for me, but I don't live for it. I think Liz lived for it. To me, it's an extra, a perk. No, I'm in this because I feel comfortable, safe with Max. And I think I may love him.

I'm not saying our first time was a bust. It was wonderful. I think it was when I truly realized how different Max and Michael are. Even though he'd never done the deed, Max was still very cautious, very gentle and - surprisingly - very good. He's a wonderful lover.

I climb into the jeep and think about that night. The things I found out - he has a birthmark on his left hip, he kind of snores when he sleeps, he sleeps on his stomach (when he's not holding me, that is), he likes a huge breakfast in the morning, he has extremely sensitive feet. The little gasp he gives when he comes - Max's release of pleasure is as reserved and understated as the man himself. He's still a mystery - I'm still pulling the layers of the onion away.

I watch him pull his T-shirt over his head and climb behind the wheel of the jeep. He slides on his sunglasses and I have to smile - he is so sexy in those Ray Bans. He smiles back and puts the jeep into reverse. Looking over his shoulder, he backs the jeep onto the road and we are on our way. I put my hand on his thigh as he drives. His skin is warm from the sun.

"Max?" I ask, breaking the silence.

He finishes shifting and glances over at me. He puts his hand over mine. "Yeah?"

"Do you get flashes from me?"

He is silent for a moment. "Sometimes."

I look at him and I feel a little queasy. What does he see?

He must catch the look on my face and he squeezes my hand reassuringly. "It's nothing bad," he explains. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

I don't know about that. I turn my head and watch the scenery whiz by the side of the jeep. It's an unfair advantage he has over me. If he can see what I see, feel what I feel - he knows things about me that I will never have the equivalent of knowing about him. For some reason I feel a tear sting my eye. It's not fair.

He gives my hand a little jiggle so I'll look back over at him. He looks concerned. He glances at the road, then back at me. He does that several times before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

I shrug and pull my hand away from his. In a flash, he pulls the jeep to the side of the road and jerks up the emergency brake. He turns sideways in his seat to face me. I look away but he turns my face back toward him. He uses his thumb to wipe away a tear that has escaped and slipped down my cheek.

"Tell me," he pleads.

I pull in a breath and meet his gaze. "I will never know you the way you know me."

He pulls back a bit, the weight of my statement starting to sink in. He looks away for a moment, then back at me. "Do you want to?"

Huh? "What do you mean?" I nearly snap at him. Of course I want to.

"I could make it happen," he says. "But once it starts, I don't know if it would ever stop."

"What do you mean?" I sound like a Myna bird.

"If I make the connection," he starts, patient as always, "it may never go away. You and I could connect if we touched, when we kissed, when he made love." He pauses. "You wouldn't have any secrets from me."

Like I do now? "Okay, do it."

He withdraws. "Now?"

I nod my head.

He gives a little shrug, removes the Ray Bans and takes my face between his hands. "Take deep breaths. Match mine."

I do and suddenly I can't look away from his eyes. I fight it at first, but he reassures me. I'm not sure what he says, or if he even says it aloud, but I know I'm supposed to relax. I do and suddenly I can feel his breath in my body, his heart beating beside mine. It freaks me a little, and I feel my trust wavering. I have those wonderful abandonment issues to deal with - first Dad skipping out, then Michael's noncommittal - and it is hard for me to trust a man this easily. But something else he says calms me and I am suddenly looking at the world through his eyes - breaking free of the pods, Isabel hitting him with a baseball bat as children, seeing Liz for the first time, his all-consuming desire for her, fighting with Michael, making up with Michael, losing Liz, giving up on Liz. And then I see me. My heart flutters with his feelings for me. He adores me. He thinks of me first thing in the morning when he gets up. He likes that I make him laugh, make him not take himself or his situation so seriously. With me, he feels like a child - the child he was never allowed to be. I am his escape, his one true thing.

I am suddenly coherent again. He is looking at me, his expression a mixture of worry and concern. My cheeks are wet - I have cried the whole time.

"Are you okay?" he asks. I think he believes he has frightened me.

I nod, but I can't speak. I reach over and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He returns my embrace and I whisper against his ear, "I love you, Max Evans."

His body shakes as he laughs.

"You already knew that, didn't you?" I ask.

He laughs again. I pull away and kiss him hard. "Find privacy," I command. "Quickly."
Part Two

The family barbecue. The back yard.

I find it amusing that the one person presently at this event who is not related to me is an alien. And he's the normal one. I don't know where Mom dug up half of these people. I can't believe I am related to them. My boyfriend is supposed to be the freak. Wow, God works in strange ways.

Mom adores Max. I think that's because he is always so polite with her - always calling her ma'am. Get this - he even stands when she stands. The first time he did it, she looked at him like he was trying to follow her or something. Then I saw her face soften and I knew then that she approved. Max is a gentleman. I think he could bang me on the living room floor and Mom would be pleased with it. He does no wrong in her eyes. He doesn't do much wrong in my eyes, either.

Speaking of banging and living room floors, right before this little event, Max and I made love with our new 'connection.' It was the most bizarre experience of my life. I don't mean that in a bad way. We started to kiss, and as things got more intense, I started to get that funny feeling I had in the jeep - like I was losing consciousness, but not really blacking out. Like I was being pulled into another dimension. Then I bit Max's lip and I felt it. I could feel everything going on in his body and in mine. It was absolutely mind-blowing. I actually felt him climax.

Afterward, I just lay and stared at him in wonder. What an amazing world he has opened up to me. It was nothing unusual to him - he fell asleep after a while, his arm over my waist. I watched him sleep, watched his eyelids flutter as he dreamed. I couldn't sleep. I don't want to sleep again. I just want to be connected to him and experience his world. Liz has no idea what she missed out on.

And speaking of Liz, there she is, walking in on cousin Sean's arm. The party just gets stranger. She's cut her hair into a pixie and it actually becomes her. She is wearing a very short skirt and it occurs to me that being away from Max may have been a good thing for her, too. She approaches me, gives me a cursory hug. She doesn't hug me like she used to. I know we aren't best friends any more. Max is a few yards away, helping Uncle Earl with the grill, and Liz ignores him entirely. I don't think Max would care, but it hurts me.

"Lizzie!" I say as I release her from our embrace. "Love the 'do!"

She touches her hair and wrinkles her nose. "Really? Is it too short?"

"You're asking me that question?" I laugh. "I was almost bald at one point. You can never go too short." I glance at Sean. "Sean."

"M."

The bastard still refuses to use my name. Well, at least he's stayed out of prison for more than six months this time.

Max walks over from the grill, glances up and looks a little startled that Liz is standing there. I know I should be jealous that Liz can still get a reaction out of him, but I don't feel any envy. I hurt inside for Max, knowing that he still hurts because of Liz sometimes. But he smiles at her and shakes Sean's hand. Then he puts a hand on the small of my back - it's a definite sign of possession. He doesn't linger there, but he's made his point. He's passive-aggressive sometimes, my Max.

"Hi, Liz," he says. "How's it going?"

"Good," she replies and clears her throat. There appears to be nothing more to say between them.

Max gestures toward Sean. "Would you like something to drink?"

Sean nods and the two of them retreat into the house. Liz watches them go and turns back to me.

"Max looks great," she observes.

"Yeah, he does," I agree. "I see you've still got Sean reeled in."

Liz laughs as we walk over to the patio furniture and drop into the padded chairs. "He's a ton of fun, Maria."

"And a ton of trouble," I remind her.

She looks a little defensive. "I think those days are behind him."

I lean closer to her. "Really? Have you reformed him?"

She smiles. "Maybe. Look, he's not all that bad. We have so much fun together. You just can't see it because he's a relative."

"Yeah, that must be it."

I glance up and see Sean and Max at the grill with Uncle Earl. I think maybe Earl and Sean could corrupt my angelic little Max. I know it for sure when Earl whispers something and Max throws his head back with laughter. Liz jumps.

"You okay?" I ask her.

She nods sheepishly. "Max isn't - didn't used to be, um..."

"So loud?" I finish for her. "Yeah, well, I reformed him, too."

She looks stung and I regret having said that. I shouldn't have. Liz has done nothing to me and what she did to Max isn't really her fault either. Relationships go south. Theirs did in a big way. She doesn't need me rubbing it in.

"I didn't mean it like that, Liz," I apologize gently.

"No, Maria, it's okay." She bites her lip and looks at the ground. "He is more relaxed. He seems happy."

I reach over and touch her hand so that she'll look at me. I smile at her and squeeze her hand. She smiles back and gives a little snort. We're living in a strange world.

Max is before me again, taking my free hand in his. Speaking of weird, I'm holding Liz's hand in one hand and his in the other. I can feel the tension run straight down one arm and through the other. I look up at Max.

"I need to talk to you." He has a very serious expression on his face and I rise immediately.

"Is everything okay?" I ask as he ushers me into the house. His hand is around my upper arm and he pulls me into the kitchen. "Max?"

We walk through the kitchen, down the hall, into my bedroom. He shuts the door behind us and uses his powers to melt the lock. I look down in confusion, but then he pins me against the door and kisses me hard. His right hand comes up and firmly captures my breast - I give a little gasp not because he is hurting me, but because I am surprised at his roughness. I feel something like static electricity in the air and the connection begins. When we part, we are absolutely breathless.

"What are you doing?" I gasp.

Biting my skin, he kisses my neck. He doesn't answer.

"Max? What is going on?"

Still no response and I push him away. I see a flash of something I've never seen in his eyes before - anger? Maybe desperation. Next time I'll let the connection kick in full force before I shove him away and then there will be no doubts.

I hold my hands palm-up. "What gives?"

"I just wanted to kiss you," he says, the flash of whatever it was I saw in his eyes now gone. He looks innocent.

"Why now?" I question. "Is it because Liz is here?"

He frowns. "No." His answer is clipped and I know that I have hit the mark.

I cross my arms over my body and shake my head. "Why are you lying to me?"

He meets my gaze for a long moment, then sinks to the bed. He folds his hands between his knees and stares at the floor. I let the silence in the room weigh very heavily before I move over to the bed with him. I put a hand on his knee and he glances at me. The sad expression in his eyes tears a hole in my heart.

"Listen," I begin. "You don't need to prove anything to me. I know you care about me. I know how you feel. You don't need to prove it by whisking me off to the bedroom when Liz appears." I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. "Although, if that is your plan, we could invite her over every day."

His lips curve into a smile at that.

I touch his face. "Do you need to prove something to yourself?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well, if you don't have anything to prove to me, who do you have something to prove to?" He looks at the floor again and I can't make him suffer. "Max, I know what Liz meant to you. I can only hope to mean that much to you someday. But I understand. I understand that seeing her is going to be hard. But I can't help you work through whatever it is you still feel for her. Only you can do that."

"I don't feel anything for her," he says unconvincingly.

I give him a little smile. "Sure ya do. You don't have that intense of a relationship and come out of it feeling nothing. Love, hate, mutual distaste, nausea. Something." I kiss him gently on the lips. "But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He gives a little snort and wraps his arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I question indignantly. "Mauling me like a cave man? You oughtta know by now that I live for that."

I pull him backward on the bed with me and he laughs. I put my finger over his lips in the universal sign for "Be quiet."

"Still want that quickie?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "Why not? I mean, my ex-girlfriend and your whole family is in the back yard. It's the perfect time for it."

I may be making headway with his sense of humor yet.

*******************************************

Somewhere in the desert. A blanket. Nighttime.

I think I stopped breathing four or five minutes ago. At least that's how it feels. I'm afraid to breathe for fear I will lose the sensation that is coursing through my body. This new connection is starting to frighten me; it's become a drug. I want to be in that plane of nonexistence, feeling his body and my body, constantly. I can't get enough. I close my eyes and savor the sensation.

I am somewhere else. I see the desert as though it were day time. Max is there, clothed, holding out his hand to me, asking me to join him. I look at his hand and he smiles back at me. I can't hear anything, I can only see him, feel him. His lips move, but I can't understand what he is saying. His smile fades away and his hand drops to his side. He's frowning all of a sudden and I no longer feel safe. The sky is starting to cloud over, casting eerie shadows across the sand. I glance toward the sky - the sun is gone. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

I am suddenly back in reality. Max's hand is on the side of my face, and he hovers above me, his face glistening with the sweat of our lovemaking.

"Breathe, Maria," he urges. "Come on, sweetheart, breathe!"

I force myself to draw in a breath and I choke on it. I see a look of relief cross Max's face, but it is gone in an instant and he is shifting his weight from me so I can sit up. He supports my back as I gasp for air. His hands make a soothing circular motion against my back and I collapse against his shoulder. I can't help it - I start to cry. My chest is burning from the sudden intake of air, and my head is reeling from the oxygen rush. Something is so wrong.

Max lets me cry. The connection is broken - I can no longer feel what he is feeling - but I think he is upset, worried. I would be if something like this had just happened to him. He doesn't say anything, he just holds me, kisses the side of my head, rocks me. Finally I pull away and wipe at my tears. He kisses my forehead.

"Okay?" he asks, looking into my face.

I shake my head. I'm not okay. I look down at my trembling fingers. I never shake when I'm upset, but this thing has rocked my world. When I was with Michael, I envied Liz for being able to connect with Max. I wanted the same thing. Now I have that thing, thanks in large part to Max's mastery of his powers, and it is terrifying the hell out of me.

"Tell me what happened," Max says gently.

I can't answer him. I pull away and draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. He sits up on his knees and takes my face between his hands.

"Tell me," he repeats.

I draw in a shaky breath and tell him. "I-I just got lost somewhere."

"Lost?"

"The desert." I look around us and suddenly the desert seems very large, very unsafe. I am afraid of what the shadows may be hiding. I hug my knees tighter. "It was daylight. You were there. Then it clouded over and I was scared." I close my eyes against the thought and the tears that are threatening to spill over again.

He puts his arm around me and hushes me. With his free hand, he pulls my unbuttoned shirt across my body. Funny, that.

"Maybe the connection thing was a bad idea," I tell him.

I feel his body tighten. He's blaming himself. I lift my head to look into his eyes and I have the confirmation - it's his fault.

"Maria," he begins. "If I had known, I wouldn't-"

"It's not your fault," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I wanted you to. But you have to reverse it."

His mouth drops open and he is speechless for a moment. "I don't think I can."

I snort. This is bad. I know what I am about to say will hurt him, but I can't afford to be sucked into the alien abyss and never return. "Then I can never have sex with you again."

Okay, hurt was too mild a word. I've devastated him. His dark eyes cloud over and for a moment I think he is about to break into tears with me. He stares in complete disbelief, then looks shyly down at the blanket. I know what he is thinking - he is kicking the crap out of himself for what he is, for what he has done. He thinks he's a freak and it breaks my heart. I can't find any words to lessen the blow and the frustration of that nearly makes me scream.

He rises, zips his jeans. Then he reaches down and picks up his shirt, which he pulls over his head. Without looking at me, he says, "I'll take you home," then turns and walks away from me.
Part Three

My bedroom.

It's been five days since that incident in the desert. I haven't seen Max. He hasn't called. I haven't called him. It's tearing me apart inside.

I thought maybe since he opened this connection, I'd be strong enough to start it without him. One night I concentrated on connecting with him so hard that I gave myself a migraine. Four Advil and an icepack later, I gave up. I have no gift. Max has all of the gifts.

I sigh and roll over onto my side and rub my temple. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have spoken out of turn that night. But I was frightened and people do dumb things when they're frightened. Fear makes people dumb. I'm angry with myself that I couldn't put this back the way it was, that I couldn't say something to him in the jeep on the way home that would fix everything. But, no, I sat as far away from him as I could, huddled up against the jeep door. The body doesn't lie - I was scared to death of him touching me. When he dropped me off, I didn't even say good night - no kiss, no words, nothing. I just got out of the jeep and went into the house. At least I managed to not break into a run.

Yep, I'm an idiot.

And I have no one to talk to about this. I told Mom we had a fight. She misses Max - he'd become somewhat a fixture in our house, even eating dinner with us some nights. I can't tell Mom the truth about what happened because she doesn't know the truth about what Max is. She keeps telling me that we will work it out, that all young people have fights. Well, we didn't have a fight - I almost got sucked into Never-Neverland.

Liz. Liz would understand. If it were anyone but Max. I really don't think she can think objectively about this.

Thinking of Liz, I think of the Crashdown and their milkshakes. Hmm, a sudden craving. And maybe Alex will be there. Or Isabel. Maybe Isabel would listen...no, I'm sure she doesn't want to hear about her brother's sexcapades. But I do need some interaction of the human kind, so I get off the bed and glance in the mirror. My hair looks like crap, so I pull it up into a ponytail. My cheeks are pale so I brush on some powder. There - I look better, I feel better. I smile at my reflection, but it is a hollow, empty smile. I drop the fake grin and head for the Crashdown.

Mr. Parker greets me with his usual happy persona - then he tells me I look thin. Yes, being sucked into the desert and nearly suffocating will do that to a girl, thank you very much. I slide onto a barstool and order a shake. Mr. Parker mixes the shake and returns to the counter to chat. And I do feel better. It was doing me no good to stay at home and mope.

I should have stayed at home. As soon as I start to feel better, Max and Michael emerge from the kitchen. On sight, Michael looks pissed, Max looks stricken. The boys had been laughing about something, but those laughs faded away faster than Seattle sunshine. Now they just stare at me and I realize that I am the only person on earth who is wanted dead by two alien males that she had sex with. Michael gives a disgusted snort and walks away, but Max is the glutton for punishment and comes over to the counter. I wonder if he has told Michael about our incident.

"How are you?" he asks, his fingers toying with the Ray Bans in his hands.

I shrug.

He nods his head and turns to leave.

"Max, wait," I call. I can't stand this.

He turns around and comes back to the counter. I point to the seat beside me and he hesitates. Then he slips onto the stool and asks Mr. Parker for a cup of coffee. I know that he only ordered the coffee to get rid of Liz's dad. Max looks back to me, his eyes sad. God, I want to touch him.

"We need to talk," I say.

He nods again. "Yeah. Yeah, we do."

"Okay, well, I was thinking-"

He holds up a hand. "Not here." He glances toward the back where Michael and Mr. Parker are talking in the kitchen. I'm glad he resists looking upward, toward Liz's apartment. Wow - where did that come from? Max has given me no reason to think he still wants to be with Liz - I firmly believe his little attack at the barbecue the other day was because of his insecurity, not because of his feelings for Liz. Am I becoming a jealous person?

"Where then?" I ask him.

He gives a weak smile. "Meet me in the park." He glances at the clock. "Half hour?"

I nod and watch him leave. He didn't try to kiss or touch me. I think he is afraid of me.

*****************

The park. Near dinnertime.

He's sitting on the park bench when I get there. His back is to me, so he doesn't see me approach. He has his arms spread along the back of the bench, his body slumped in TV-watching mode. I can't help the little grin that passes my face - he's staring straight up into the sky. At any other time, I would have sneaked up on him and kissed him upside down. Not this time.

I round the bench and he sits up straight, bringing his hands into his lap and folding them. He looks startled - I guess I did sneak up on him after all. He watches me from beneath those long, dark lashes as I sit beside him. He gives me a half-smile and I half-smile back. We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, then he gives a soft snort.

"One of us has to start," he kind of laughs.

I can't believe I am uncomfortable around him, talking to him. "Okay," I say, trying to be optimistic. The situation feels fragile - one false move and the whole thing could go up in flames. "Do you want to?"

His expression says it all - no he doesn't. But Max is a standup guy and he inhales deeply as he shifts his body weight sideways on the bench to face me.

"Maria, I would never do anything to hurt you," he begins.

"I know that," I tell him.

He holds up a hand. "Please, let me finish." He scratches his head in that lost-little-boy way I adore so much. "I would never have opened the connection if I thought it was going to put you in danger some way, if my being...what I am would harm you." Okay, someone just rip out my heart and stomp on it and get it over with. I can't stand the look in his eyes, the sorrow in his voice. He swallows. "I'm sorry."

I give a little sigh and shake my head. "Don't be sorry, Max. I wanted you to make the connection. You warned me that you might not be able to shut it off. You didn't know that was going to happen. I know you wouldn't hurt me." I smile gently at him and for the first time since the incident, I reach out and touch his face. He closes his eyes and I'm not sure if it's relief I see or pure agony.

His hand comes up to capture mine and he brings both of them, fingers intertwined, to the bench between us. "What do you want to do, Maria?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to try to make this work? Do you want to try to find a way to fix whatever is wrong? Or do you want to leave me?"

I am a little surprised at option number three. Not because of its existence, but because of the flat, matter-of-fact way he has said it. "I don't want to leave you," I tell him, and I mean it.

He smiles, a full, post-Liz smile and I have to smile in return.

"But, I don't know where to begin," I tell him honestly.

He ponders that for a moment. "Tell me what happened."

I reach back in my memory and dredge up that night. I don't like going there, but this is necessary. "We were - well, you know what we were doing, and suddenly I just couldn't breathe. Then I was somewhere else, in the desert. You were there, smiling at me, holding out your hand. You were saying something I couldn't hear, then the sky started to cloud over and you frowned and I felt really, really scared. That's when I came back to reality." I shiver thinking about it.

He stares at the ground, thinking. "Did you touch me?" he asks.

I shake my head.

He seems like he has decided something. "Maria, if we could go back there, to that place again, what if you did things differently? What if you took my hand?"

I feel myself wanting to recoil involuntarily. "Max, I don't know-"

His eyes are suddenly bright. " This might be the only way. Please, Maria. I won't let anything happen to you."
Part Four

Max's bedroom. That night.

Max flips on his bathroom light so that his room isn't so dark. I stand against the door, my heart pounding in my chest. He smiles reassuringly and comes to stand before me. One of his hands comes up to play with my hair, then he touches my face with the back of his hand. My heart starts to thump a little harder - he's trying to arouse me so that the connection can begin. I don't know how to tell him that nothing he can do can override my mounting fear. His actions are only making me more nervous. I put a hand on his chest and push him gently aside. He looks confused, but I motion to the bed.

We lie down, facing each other. He puts his hand on my hip and kisses my neck. My body starts to quiver. I don't want the connection to start, I want to resist all of his temptations. He moves to my earlobe and bites it softly. I can't let this happen.

He pulls away and looks into my face. His free hand touches my hair again, then the hand on my hip moves to my chest, over my heart. I can see from his eyes that he knows it is pounding not out of excitement but out of sheer terror.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he says softly. "I won't let you die." He pushes my shirt over my shoulder and kisses the skin over my rapidly beating heart. Against my ear he whispers, "I love you, Maria. Do you love me?"

It's starting. I feel that odd sensation in my stomach, that nervous energy like a glowing ball waiting to burst forward. I fight it, him. But he feels it too, and he's talking into my ear again. "Trust me, Maria."

I can't stop it, I can't control it. I feel like I am swirling down the biggest drain in the world. I flail for control, but I'm lost to the tide. I am suddenly in the desert again. I can't breathe, I can't hear anything. Max is there again, reaching out his hand for me. His lips are moving, but I can't understand him. I look toward the sky - the clouds are rolling in. Max stops smiling, but this time his hand doesn't drop to his side. This time he motions with his fingers, beckoning me. Then I can read his lips. Maria. Trust. Me.

This is it. This is what this has been about. I can't trust Max. I haven't really trusted Max from the beginning. It's not about him and what he is, it's about me and what I am. My inability to trust anyone has put my life in danger. I look up to the sky again. The clouds are black, angry. Max is waiting. I reach out my hand and touch his.

I am back in Max's bedroom. I am flat on my back and he is breathing into my mouth - he was giving me mouth-to-mouth, trying to save my life. I gasp in a large gulp of air and he pulls back, his eyes frightened. I can feel the connection coursing through my body, and it is on a much different level this time. Not only can I feel his heart, his breath in my body, I can actually feel his blood rushing through my veins, feel his emotions as he experiences them. He feels it too - one of his hands goes to his chest and he gasps. I am reeling from the sensation, from the knowledge that we are now one.

Max reaches down and puts a hand behind my neck. "Maria," he gasps. "Are you okay?"

I throw my arms around him and kiss him harder than I ever have. He chokes back his surprise at first, but when my hand goes to his zipper and unceremoniously drops it, he can't hold back his reaction. "Make love to me, Max" I plead with him.

His mind is reeling. Just two minutes ago he thought I was dying, now I am asking him to make love to me. I feel him erase the doubts from his mind and his mouth descends on mine. I feel his hands, our hands, push up my skirt and discard my underwear. His lips, my lips, our lips are on my breasts. Then I am riding the tide with him, joined, completing our connection. I can't help it - I cry out so loud my throat stings.

The connection wanes as Max collapses on top of me. His skin is damp with sweat, his breathing labored. I am gasping for air as well and I bring my hand up to touch his hair. His chest expands against mine as he pants, I hear him swallow hard, and his heart pounds steadily beside mine. I feel the rhythm slow as his body returns to normal.

My toes and fingertips are absolutely tingling. Once I have caught my breath, I allow myself a smile and revel in the pleasure of the sensations coursing through my body. Our union has made me incredibly tired.

Finally Max raises his head. I try not to laugh - the poor guy looks exhausted! But he smiles and touches my face lovingly. He kisses me, gently, slowly, then eases his weight off of me. I frown at the cold air that assaults my body. I'm surprised that Max gets up from the bed and doesn't try to cuddle in with me. I watch him walk to the bathroom and soon I hear the water running in the tub. This puzzles me because Max is not a post-coitus clean freak - he doesn't usually run for the shower after we've made love.

He returns to the bedroom and stops before the bed. Reaching down, he takes my hand and pulls me to a sitting position. My muscles feel like spaghetti. He carefully pulls my shirt over my head, then unzips my skirt and pulls that off also. He effortlessly scoops me into his arms and walks to the bath. He kisses me tenderly, then places me in the tub. Neither of us has spoken; I just watch him move around the small room. He squirts some bubble bath into the tub - Max Evans has bubble bath in his bathroom? Who would've thought it? I smile at that. Then he rummages under the sink and produces a couple of candles. He doesn't need matches - he snaps his fingers and the candles jump to life. He turns out the light and proceeds to remove the remainder of his clothing.

In the flickering candlelight, I watch in wonder as he stoops to pull his jeans from his body. He is perfectly sculpted and his muscles shift beneath his skin with every movement. Once undressed, he steps into the tub, sliding behind me and straddling me. He uses his toes to turn off the water, then he pulls me back against him, cradling me against his chest. Picking up a bath sponge, he silently washes me. When he is finished, he lays his hand on my head and turns it so that my ear is against his chest.

"Sleep," he says softly, his voice reverberating under my ear.

And I can't fight the exhaustion in my body so I do just that.

*********************

The quarry. Noonish.

He's in the water again, swimming out to that little island in the middle of the quarry. I have to wonder if his home planet is devoid of water, because he sure seems to enjoy it on this world, in this life. I watch his arms rising and falling above the water, then stopping. For a moment my heart jerks in my chest because he has disappeared, but then I see his feet rise above the water as he dives beneath the surface. A few moments later, I see his arms again, then his whole body as he pulls himself onto the shore of the island.

It's been a week since we connected in his bedroom. My life, my outlook has changed. All of this time, I thought that I had been giving my all in my relationships, that I couldn't possibly offer Michael or Max anything more than what I had. But the one thing I could not offer - myself - was the Achilles heel of both of those relationships. I've covered all of my insecurities by making jokes, by trying to not be serious about anything.

Luckily, I realized that before I lost Max, before I pushed him away. I have to wonder if I would've been more trusting with Michael, would I have been able to maintain our relationship. Maybe that's what he needed from me, but I couldn't give it to him. It doesn't matter now. I've given that trust to Max, and we've never been closer.

I see Max drop to his butt on the shore of the island, picking at something in the sand between his feet. Even though I am too far away, I can just imagine the look on his face - his brows knitted together in curiosity, his bottom lip half in his mouth as he bites it. I smile at that. I wonder about his curious nature. Maybe he's just inquisitive, but then again maybe some deep part of him remembers his old world and he is trying to make comparisons. I don't know for sure, but I love him for it.

Max stands and slips back into the water. I watch him swim the distance of the quarry and pull himself ashore near me. He walks over to the blanket and lies down on his back. I look over at his stomach and start to descend on it.

He moves quicker than I do, though and suddenly I am on my back, struggling for control as he places his mouth on my abdomen and blows. I can't believe he just belly-farted me! I feel his body shake as he laughs at my squeal, then he stretches out on his side beside me on the blanket. He retrieves his baseball cap and covers the side of his face with it to shield his eyes from the sun and buries his head in my shoulder. In a matter of minutes, he is asleep against me, his breath coming in a slow steady rhythm.

I turn my head so that I can watch him sleep. His eyelids flutter, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks, and I know he is dreaming. His lips are parted slightly, just giving a glimpse of his white teeth. I look up into the sky, at the sun, and it strikes me that we are like two lizards baking on a rock. I want to stay here forever, with him.

I reach over and touch his face. He stirs in his sleep, mumbles something incoherent, and wraps an arm across my waist. I smile - that's exactly what I wanted him to do. I snuggle into him and close my eyes. Lying in the sun, listening to Max's steady breathing, I am suddenly sleepy. And I feel at ease enough, safe enough to let myself drift off. It feels good to trust.

THE END