Title: Yes

Author: Shana

Email: Belouxs@aol.com

Summary: M/L. "End Of The World"

Spoilers: Through "End Of The World:

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Distribution: Please ask.

Notes: Thank you to Margaret for being so supportive and encouraging. Thank you to Elizabeth for helping me so much and always inspiring and giving the go ahead. November 11, 2000

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The concert started at eight. If she'd said Yes, they'd be there right now. Together.

He thought he'd pick her up around six and drive to Santa Fe where they'd eat dinner at one of the new cafes Iz and his mother had found. He knew the beginning would be a little awkward. During the car ride they would listen to the radio and make small, unimportant talk. He expected that she would look out the window a lot, not directly at him and because he was anticipating this, it wasn't going to cause any panic. They had the rest of the night. The first few minutes of dinner would be strange too. She would still have a hard time looking at him and maybe he would at her. It might be overwhelming being in the same space again. He would want to stare and get lost in her face and trace the slight slope of her cheekbones, her skin clear as water. He had to hold back. He didn't want to freak her out, be overwhelming, give her too much to deal with at once. He had to be careful in the beginning; it would take her a little while to warm up, nothing would be the same right off as much as he wanted it to be. He knew that, he was being realistic. It would take a little time.

So he had a plan.

There were things he was going to tell her. Things he needed her to understand, things that would make everything all right. If she'd said Yes he would be telling her those things right about now. They'd be in Santa Fe, side by side as the sun was setting. Together.

But she'd said No and he was staring at the ceiling above his bed wondering how his life had come to this. Wondering if the dull pain he felt in every cell of his body was really worth the small, shiny haired girl he loved so much. He wished it wasn't. He wished he could make it stop, make himself stop.

It was one little word. An easy, tiny word. Acceptance is so much easier than denial. Wasn't it? It had to be. Acceptance is ease, denial is struggle. Saying Yes has to be so much easier than saying No. A denial of him, the past, present and their future. Didn't it hurt her to say it? Even a quarter as much as it hurt him to hear it? Why didn't she just say it? Yes. Yes. Yes.

But she'd said No and he'd been so surprised. 'No. I will not go to Gomez with you.' She'd said it without hesitation and the outpouring of words that followed left him sick and empty. Her words came too easily. She knew what she was doing, she believed in everything she was saying, and he stared at her stunned. He'd left no room in his life for her to say No.

It wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

But then he breathed again, took another look and saw what she really meant. Her eyes told the truth. They revealed the energy that was flowing through her and the exhaustion and the confusion. He saw her fighting against him and knew he just had to fight harder. In theory he was stronger. In theory he was a warrior and in theory he could hold her down and show her what she wanted.

At nine there would have been a break as they began setting up for Gomez. He would have led her out of the pavilion seats and high up onto the lawn into a far back corner where they would have had a view of the entire amphitheater and the desert beyond. He would have taken a deep breath, looked at her and said the things he needed to say.

"I'll be who you want me to be. I'll live my life for you. I'll make you happy, I'll keep you safe. I'll give you what you want, I'll find a way to give you the life you deserve."

He would tell her that and more. He would tell her everything he felt and he knew in his heart she would understand because she had to. He could see the relief in her eyes as she realized what he was giving to her and she would accept it, because Liz was not cruel. She would not mention Destiny or bring up his Responsibilities or Who he was supposed to be. She would allow him to be who he wanted and help him simply live in that existence by believing him. He just needed to get her in a place where she wouldn't run away, where she would look at him straight on in the eye and be still.

At a quarter to ten Gomez would have just started playing. The music would fill the desert, the opening chords vibrating through his body and Liz would be next to him. The air would be coursing with music, excitement and energy but his space; their space would be steady. Warm and full. He would see the lights reflecting off her hair and he would steal glances at her face, and she would be in the moment and her face would be changed from what he'd told her, what she had taken in. Her muscles would be relaxed, she would be breathing different because she would believe in him and her eyes would say Yes, it's okay. Yes we'll be okay.

That was how it was supposed to be. That was how he'd pictured it so hard that he felt it too deeply and now at a quarter past ten if he closed his eyes, he was in the amphitheater, amongst hundreds of people, next to Liz, in the moment he was sure he would get to be in. Beginning to live the life he thought he'd get to live.

The concert would have ended at half past eleven. They would have followed the rest of the crowd out of the pavilion. It would have been too noisy to talk. They wouldn't have touched all night, but now he would hold her forearm gently and she would think it was because he didn't want to lose her in the crowd, not because he wanted to feel her skin again. They would have walked that way for a few minutes until they got closer to the gates and the crowd would press them closer together and he would tighten his grip very gently.

She would suddenly pull her arm, shaking him free. But just as he began to realize it, just as he would begin to panic, her hand would be in his. She would lace her fingers through his and press their palms tightly together and his stomach would tingle and his heart would soar because she did that. She did it on her own. And in just a few more minutes they would be in the jeep breathing the same air.

That was the way it was supposed to be. That was the way it should be happening.

At a quarter to twelve, on the way back to Roswell, he would ask her if she wanted to stop and talk for a while. Her answer would be Yes and he would make a hard right, driving into the desert where he would pull the top down and they would look at stars that were now just stars, because he was now just Max and they would talk for hours. And the word Destiny would never be uttered and Responsibilities and Commitments and Supposed tos would never be thought of. Secrets would be told. Secrets that were no more heavy than how badly they missed each other. There would have been understanding and promises and maybe even apologies and maybe even tears. Faith would have been restored. She would have realized she was tied to him. She would have realized how much she loved him and now, that she was with him she would know she could never leave him again.

That's the way it should have been.

It is a quarter past midnight; the air is too heavy and hot. His sheets feel moist and no matter which way he lays, he can't get comfortable. His arms are too heavy, his legs are numb and they hurt, feel disconnected from his hips. There is too much energy flowing through his body, gathering in his chest. He knows if he continues breathing like this, like who he is, he will break in half. He is supposed to be in the desert right now. Their night would have just been starting. He can almost feel her hair with his hands.

If he could just get her to sit still. If she would just listen. If he could hold her, hold onto her tight, catch her for just a moment; he knows he could make her understand. Make her see. He can feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her heartbeat against his chest. He can see the muscles in her face, around her mouth. The way her eyes widen and soften. Things he needs to see again in order to live.

How did she get to be so perfect? He doesn't remember her as being so utterly perfect when he had her. He will never take that for granted again. He knows she loves him, how can she stand to be away from him? How can he get her back? What does he need to do? What does he need to say?

He wants to go back to that day in the cave. He would have listened to Nacedo. He would have put the communicators away, they would have never learned of Destiny and far off battles and a world he belonged to. They would have remained in ignorant bliss for a while longer. If he'd known then what he knows now, how he would feel, he would have been stronger, clearer. He would have done anything, everything to stop this from happening. He would have erased Tess's existence from their lives so these realizations would have never entered their minds. Liz's mind.

At a quarter to one he is sweating and sick. He just needs to tell her. To hold her for just a few minutes and try to make her understand. He needs to touch her even though he knows she will pull away. It doesn't matter; he just needs to feel her again.,P> His father is at the kitchen table doing paper work. He looks up and calls him Son and asks if he wants to talk about something. Max shakes his head and goes back to his bedroom, leaves through the window and the weight in his chest begins to drain as he heads towards the Crashdown. He will see her and everything will be all right. At least for a little while.

He is quiet as he climbs the fire escape. The lights are off and her window is closed. He knows she is asleep and he sits next to the window, unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to startle her, doesn't want anymore chaos or surprise attacks. On the other side of the glass he can feel her breathing, long and deep and he doesn't know how he survived this long. He knows who he needs to be. How he needs to live.

He hears the window slide up and he closes his eyes tight against the weariness he will hear in her voice. "What are you doing here Max? What do you want?"

He tries to control his breathing, tries to hold on, but he loses it. Something inside him gives way and he is pushing her inside, holds her shoulders as she struggles. His face is wet. He can't hear the words pouring from his throat. She won't look at him, won't listen, and he holds her tighter, forces her chin up with his hand. Makes her still. Watches her expression change and she stares at him fierce and angry, and he tries harder. When Liz is angry she won't listen.

She finally sinks to the floor at the foot of her bed asking him "Why? Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?" and he is pushing her shoulders back against the floor. Fumbling with his jeans as he tries to make her look at him, pushing away her t-shirt as he tries to get through to her.

"I'm sorry Liz, but I mean it. I'm sorry Liz, but it's true. I'm sorry Liz but I can't help it and you have to listen."

He thinks she is still. And then he thinks her arms are around his neck, just like he imagined, and her mouth is under his just like he dreamed, and he knows he is tasting tears and he thinks he tastes acceptance and he believes he hears her whispering Yes, and he sees their innocent past and the brief joy of their future. And the future that should have been. He thinks she allows him into her and he feels her stop fighting and he believes he sees her accept the pain and terror that will accompany their future because it is easier than living without him.

End

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