His captive, still in his arms, was an exquisite girl whom Liz guessed was about the same age. The girl's long hair was a shade lighter than his and contrasted beautifully with her creamy white skin. Looking into his eyes, the little girl gave her friend a quick hug and than wriggled away from him. She scampered off, running in and out of trees, all the while shrieking playfully. Liz almost laughed as she watched the teasing beauty try to get the boy to chase her again. It was obvious the two children were close, very close. Hazarding a guess, Liz thought they were probably seven or eight years old. She wouldn't have been surprised if the two of them were siblings.

Resting her neck on the back of the bench, Liz breathed in the fresh air and gazed up at the blue sky. She was more tired than she had ever been in her whole life. Days ago Liz'd thought she couldn't possibly get any more exhausted. But she had. The funny thing was, that physically, her body wasn't tired. Had she wanted to, Liz could've run a few miles around town easily. It was something inside of her, something deep down and unknown, that was wearied.

It had been a week since the pod squad's meeting about the granalith. Thereafter, Liz had religiously isolated herself from her small group of friends. It had become a game, every morning she would wake up and spend the day trying to avoid them as much as possible. It was amazing how little she actually saw of them, now that she made a point not to. It was just too painful. Seeing them reminded Liz of all the things she was missing out on. Things which she would never experience again. Her own dreams and her morbid imagination were punishment enough. But to truly hear his voice, see his face, feel his presence...was like a knife to her heart. A heart that had already be stabbed countless times beforehand. A heart that was oozing sickly blood and stood willingly at the edge of death's door.

Liz recalled the image of her face that the bathroom mirror had shown her early that morning. Her skin had never regained its color, in fact, it'd become increasingly paler. Her face looked constantly haggard. Likewise, body looked wan and the skin seemed barely stretched across her bones. A little over a week since Future Max had paid her a visit, and Liz had gone from bad to worse.

A loud shout followed by a shrill giggle brought Liz back to reality. Her eyes opened and focused on the two children still playing in the nearby grass. Checking her watch, Liz realized she'd been sitting on the bench for over half and hour. Shaking her head, she set her legs on the ground and glanced one more time at the children. Liz smiled, after watching them for just that short period of time, she already felt as if she knew them. Both of them had fallen to the ground and were interlocked and wrestling. They clothes were getting damp from the wet grass, but neither seemed to notice. Eventually, the girl ended up sitting on top of the boy's stomach. She had his hands pinned up above his head. Liz could easily hear the girl giggling and she could see the boy's mock glare.

Abruptly, Liz's heart stopped and tears instantly clouded her brown eyes. It dawned on her what specifically about these two sibling made her feel so connected to them. Gasping for breath, Liz didn't notice her fingernails splitting into her palms as she focused in front of her. Max. The little boy reminded Liz of Max. The way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he laughed. Their personalities were identical. Liz's throat closed tightly as she watched Max's replica spin round with his sister. The little girl was smiling and holding tight to her brother's hand. Recalling pictures of herself, from when she was younger, Liz was shocked to discover how much she resembled the young girl playing less than three yards away from her.

Max and Liz. Somehow, these children had become little visions of the two older teenagers. Life is full of surprises. Smiling through her tears, Liz decided that if she and Max were to have children, they would look exactly like the two who were now laying peacefully on the grass. Of course, that would never happen. Max was no longer a part of her future.

**These could've been my...our children.**

Children had never been a great priority for Liz, there were so many other things she wanted to do. But seeing those two play in the park...how could she not? How could she NOT long to have a piece of Max grow inside of her? A small life created between them. A miracle. Something to remember him by...

**Grow up, Liz. You are ONLY seventeen. Not to m-mention, h-he doesn't l-love you anymore. It's probably not even possible for the two of you to have kids.**

Liz got up blindly and stumbled down the street. While brushing the tears off of her face, she tried to banish the bright image of the two children from her mind. Someday soon, she was going to have do deal with her losses. Daydreaming of fantasies would not help when that time came. They would only make her life more miserable. If that was even possible.

Walking home, Liz found herself getting colder. Tugging her jacket closer, she couldn't seem to stop the chills that periodically slithered down her back. The breeze was soft as it rustled through the leaves; a newspaper drifted lazily down the sidewalk. Her feet felt heavy as she struggled to lift them off the ground. Liz was bone tired. She was tired of crying. She was tired of nightmares. She was tired of the pain. She was tired of feeling. Each night, laying in bed, she wondered how she could possibly survive the agonies tomorrow promised to bring. There was no escape. Nowhere to hide.

Reaching the front of the Crashdown, Liz peered inside. The lights were festive and music played from the radio. The after school crowd was thinning out, soon people would start arriving for diner. Sitting at booths or at tables, everyone seemed to be having fun. People smiled. Laughter rang out. Kids babbled cheerfully.

Her face inches away from the window, Liz was oblivious to her surroundings. She was all alone in her own world. Standing still, she was unaware of the goings on inside the restaurant. To Liz, there were no football players, no wild children, no old couples eating an early supper. There were only memories. Raising her right hand, Liz gingerly placed it against the glass. Distant voices reached her ears; sparkling images floated in front of her, just barely out of reach.

"Oh, and Max Evans is staring at you again." "Liz, LIZ! You have to look at me. You have to look at me." "You're all right now. You're all right." "So...let's hope nothing explodes." "When I'm not with you...I go crazy." "It's all just magic when I think of you."

She was being haunted, haunted by memories of the past. Memories from a lifetime ago, before Liz Parker had sold her soul to save the world. Slowly the images blurred, then suddenly, they were gone as quickly as they came. Leaving Liz staring at a reflection of herself in the front window of the Crashdown.

**Why is this happening to me? I can't do this anymore, my heart...it hurts too much. No one should have to live through something like this. I-I'm dying.**

Her hand still on the glass pane, Liz watched as tears dripped down her face unheeded. The hot drops of water stung, they burned her cheeks. However, Liz stubbornly refused to stop. She welcomed the pain. Maybe it would distract her. Had she not promised Maria otherwise, Liz might have considered cashing it all in. Going to visit the great man up there in the clouds. Selfish? Yes, but that didn't matter anymore. As far as Liz was concerned, she was already dead. Nothing was going to change that. Shoulders shaking, she leaned her head against the smooth glass. The cold surface helped ease the constant ache in her head. The one she'd had for the last week and a half. What was she going to do? She needed someone. She needed help. Jesus, she needed Max...

**********

Pacing back and forth across the small span of her room, the frazzled blond was sniffing oils right and left. By now, the fragrances had all blended together and she had a sinking feeling they weren't helping the situation. Maria was beyond worried; she was bordering on hysterical. For almost two weeks she'd been watching her best friend waste away. Wilting like a flower deprived of water within its lonely vase. Each day, Liz retreated father into herself. Maria was having trouble simply getting her friend to talk. Earlier at school, Liz'd actually walked directly past Maria without so much as a glance. Liz had NEVER done that to her best friend before. Feeling hurt, angry, and frustrated, Maria threw her phone down onto the purple carpet and fell face down on top of her bed. She buried her head in the big, soft pillows.

Smells from the kitchen, which was only a few feet down the hall, drifted into her room. Maria's mom was actually home in time for dinner tonight. Ironically, she was ruining the experience for Maria by attempting to bake a chicken casserole. Literally afraid to venture inside the kitchen, Maria'd retreated quickly behind her bedroom door. There was only one dish Amy DeLuca was capable of baking: pies. They were remarkably delicious and mouthwatering, famous in the small town of Roswell. However, anything else she attempted to create was fed directly into the garbage disposal. On one occasion, she actually managed to set the kitchen on fire in the process of baking ravioli. The fire department had gotten a real kick out of the "Situation at the DeLuca household" that night. Insightful as always, Maria decided to head over to Michael's for dinner around six o'clock. Cold cereal or chips and salsa was better than eating her mom's mystery meal.

Of their own accord, her thoughts found their way back to Liz again. With a grimace, Maria banged her head against the pillows.

"Liz, Liz, Liz...why won't you let me help you?"

Rolling over onto her back, Maria stared at the plain white ceiling. Last year, after discovering about the trio of aliens, she'd dotted it with little silver stars and planets. Courtesy of Amy DeLuca. About half of them had fallen off by now, leaving only a few to sparkle in the light.

"All right, DeLuca. Staring at the ceiling isn't gonna solve Liz's problems. You are the only person who knows the truth. Therefore, it's your responsibility to help her move on and learn to deal without Max."

The logic in her theory was a little twisted, but Maria still felt it was her job comfort, pamper, and revive Liz. The problem was, Liz didn't seem to want any of those things. Maria had lost her best friend. Someone'd stolen Liz and replaced her with an impostor who looked, by the way, in danger of slipping into a coma. Maria was afraid she might never get her friend back, ever. Max was the key, he held the power to bring her back. But, since that was impossible, Maria was gonna have to come up with plan B.

**That Future Max dude had a lot of nerve coming back here and screwing around with us. He was one son of a bitch. The end of the world...HA! End of the world my ass. What a prick.**

A light tapping on her window pane brought Maria out of her Max bashing session. Not feeling at all like getting off her bed, she yelled from beneath the pillows, "Who the hell are you and what do you want?!"

"Maria!! Open the window or I'll do it for you..." Michael's voice held more than a trace of annoyance. Up in a flash, Maria darted to the window, threw apart the curtains and flung the lock open. The last time Michael had "opened the window for her," she'd ended up with a busted piece of glass and a melted lock. Maria was not eager to repeat the experience. Besides, her dinner plans had come all the way across town to pick her up. He just didn't know it yet. Who was she to complain?

**********

It was almost dark outside his window, twilight, the stars just starting to come out. The sky was virtually cloudless, promising a spectacular view later that evening. All this was irrelevant to Max as he sat huddled on the ground. Usually, he would call Michael and they'd drive out to the desert. Lying on their backs among rocks and stray grasses, they would stare at the sky in silence. Each immersed in his own thoughts.

Not tonight. Tonight Max was unaware of everything but the anguish that consumed his self. Pulling his knees closer to his chest, Max closed his eyes and his body began to shake. His tears seemed to have a mind of their own as they slipped down his cheeks indifferent to his contrary request. A photograph of Liz was clenched between his trembling hands. It was his favorite picture he had of her. Scattered around his room Max had a collection of items whose sole purpose was to remind him of Liz. But he treasured that one picture of Liz more than all the rest of them put together. Maria had taken the photograph during the spring of last year; when she saw how well the it came out, she excitedly gave Max a copy. Liz's silky hair had been styled and hung in full, loose curls around her face; a few strands on top had been pulled back with a small brown clip. The sunlight danced across her hair, illuminating its light brown highlights. Remarkably, the camera had managed to capture perfectly the ivory tones on her smooth face. Running his thumb over the worn photograph, Max longed to touch her soft skin. At the time, Liz'd been unaware that her picture was being taken. She'd glanced towards the camera just in time, a small smile on her face, really more like a grin. There was laughter in her sparkling brown eyes.

Max's heart clenched as he stared fixedly into her eyes, unable to look away. Memory flared as he recalled the one time he gazed into those eyes to find them filled with guilt, instead of laughter or love. This guilt was fathered by betrayal for Liz had indeed betrayed him, and by doing so, murdering his trust in her. Max'd laid his heart in the palm of her delicate hand, only to have it torn to pieces. He would never again love anyone the way he loved Liz. His Liz. Max's love for her was intense, all consuming. Liz was the only one who would ever understand the intensity of his love, his devotion. For she'd loved him with the same fierce abandonment that he did her. What had gone wrong? Was it something he did?

A thought was slowly worming its way into his mind, darkness following in its wake. What if...what if she never really loved him. Could it be that all this time, what he'd been cherishing deep within his soul, was really a lie? An illusion painted by a talented actress? If this was true, then Liz's respect for him...her desire...her tenderness...had all been false. Agony flooded his soul at the possibility that Liz had never loved him. Ever. Unbelievable anguish, grief, and desperation settled over him like darkness consuming all traces of light. Max sank lower still into the carpet next to his bed. The tears continued to flow and his shaking became more violent. The photograph of Liz fell from his hands and drifted to the floor. It lay there, discarded, resting next to his shoe. The face of an angel still gazing up at him.

Worthless. His life was worthless without Liz. HE was worthless without Liz. She was his passion and his strength, she sustained him. He couldn't function without her. He wouldn't survive. Max was Liz. Liz was Max. There was no line that separated the two of them. They were one. Except, now, there WAS a line. There was MORE than a line, there was a great chasm constructed between them.

Max remembered when his life had been filled with vivacious colors and glorious music. His longing glances had suddenly became blistering exchanges of desire. He could only describe it as paradise. Blissfully divine. And it all had revolved around Liz Parker. His Liz. As suddenly as it'd started, it dissolved right before his eyes. Colorless. His world was now colorless and bleak. His eyes received images which were filled with sullen, morose shades of gray. His world was silent; devoid of sound. People's mouths moved, but no sound reached his ears. Max was a prisoner inside of his own mind, confined within his own desolated thoughts.