Can They Hear You Scream? ~ C/C~ PG-13 ~ Complete

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Can They Hear You Scream? ~ C/C~ PG-13 ~ Complete

TaffyCat

Title: Can They Hear You Scream?
Author: Taffy
Email: bstuller@splis.com
Category: CC
Rating: PG-13 for subject matter.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, just borrowing them. Promise to return them only slightly used.

In this story there were no Skins, no End of The World, Alex did not die, there absolutely, positively, sure as hell was no pity sex with Tess, and no SpoT.
However, I am going to borrow one idea from S2 but I am TOTALLY twisting it around.

This is an emotionally intense story that picks up the summer after Destiny.
Are Max’s nightmares just the result of the White Room or are they something more?

~

Part 1

It was time. He craved to be free, to be born. His leg kicked against the wall trying to break through. His arm reached out and felt the wall with his fingertips. His body twisted back and forth as he fought to move closer to the wall. His foot kicked the wall again and again. The wall was weakening. He could feel it. His arm reached out and tore at it. He needed out. He needed to breathe. His foot kicked hard and felt the wall give way. The fluid that had surrounded and nourished him for so long began to drain away. His fingers clawed at the membrane wall, and for the first time they felt the outside air. The wall tore some more and his arm slipped through. He pushed forward and stuck his shoulder and then head through. He opened his eyes to the world. It was the moment of his birth.

He paused and looked at the beings standing there watching him. He tilted his head as he tried to reach out to them with his mind. He didn’t understand when he received no response in return. They didn’t hear him. They didn’t understand him. This was wrong. They weren’t the right ones. They weren’t his family. His eyes grew wide as gloved hands reached for him and pulled him the rest of the way out and laid him on a cold, smooth surface. He looked back at the membrane wall that was now completely ripped open. It was attached to three others but those were empty and brittle. The life they used to contain was long since gone, but where? Where was his family? He had just been born and all he had were his instincts. And he was certain that this was all wrong. He felt something going across his legs and then again across his arms, holding him down to this cold, smooth, hard surface. He saw one of the beings come close to him with something in one of his gloved hands. Another being grabbed his arm and turned it over. Something was wrapped tightly around his upper arm. It pinched. The gloved hand pressed in a few places against his exposed arm before the other gloved hand holding that thing moved closer, until it broke his skin. The sharp pain startled him and tears flowed down his cheeks. Terrified, his mind silently reached out to anyone and screamed.

Max bolted upright as a scream still echoed in his head. His heart was pounding. A sheen of sweat encompassed his body. He stared at his hands as they shook. He looked around trying to reassure himself that it was just a nightmare. It was over. He wasn’t in the White Room. Nesado had it disassembled and Eagle Rock shut down last month. It was just a nightmare. He was home. He was safe. It was just a nightmare. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and waited until his tremors died down. He rose shakily to his feet and moved slowly to his dresser. His stiff muscles protested every step. He pulled out dry boxers and a t-shirt and stumbled to the bathroom.

~

His hands held onto the showerhead, as if for dear life, as the warm water pelted his body and slowly relaxed his muscles. “It was just a nightmare. Just another nightmare,” he mumbled repeatedly to himself. He stood like that until the water had long since run cold. He heard a discreet knock on the door and shut the water off.

“Max? Max, are you okay? You’ve been in there for like an hour.” Isabel knocked again when she heard the water stop. “Max?”

He slowly got out of the shower and dried off. He slipped his boxers and t-shirt on before opening the door. “Hey, Iz.”

A good night’s sleep was a luxury now for her. For the last two months, she had been woken too many times in the middle of the night by her brother’s screams. Their whole house had. Mom and Dad were beyond worried. They were desperate. They wanted Max to get a complete physical and see a therapist. Perhaps go on some medication so he could at least get some decent sleep. Max was fighting them tooth-and-nail on it. He had to, even though it was probably exactly what he needed. She had taken to leaving her bedroom door open at night and sleeping very lightly in an attempt to be the first to hear if Max needed her help before he woke their parents and worried them even further. She was afraid that if he couldn’t get a hold of this soon, her parents might try to have him hospitalized or something. The dark rings under his eyes told her it had been another hard night for him. She watched how slowly he moved as he grabbed a comb out of a drawer and combed his hair. “Max, we’ve got to do something. You can’t go on like this. Maybe…maybe a therapist wouldn’t hurt?”

His shoulders sagged. “I know but how would a therapist help? I can’t tell him anything,” he reminded her as he put the comb back in the drawer. He didn’t look up in the mirror. He knew what he’d see if he did and he was better off not seeing it.

“Maybe you could talk to someone else. Michael?” She sighed as her brother shook his head ‘no’. “What about the sheriff?” Her heart leaped as he seemed to ponder her suggestion. “Max, will you talk to the sheriff?”

“I… I’ll try, Iz. I’ll try,” he promised her quietly.

She nodded. “Good, that’s a good start. And eat Max. You’ve got to eat. Mom’s been going nuts about how thin you’re getting.”

“I’m not hungry,” he told her. He saw the worry that triggered. That’s all he saw lately in his loved ones was worry. He sighed heavily. He knew she was right. Maybe if he could talk to Valenti and he started eating healthy, just maybe he could get through this. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

~

Diane smiled tentatively as her son ate his breakfast. It was the first time in a long time he sat down and actually ate. She knew he tried to avoid family meals as much as possible lately. He tended to pick at his food and shove it around his plate when he did. This morning he came in, poured himself some juice, and sat down with his plate of eggs and potatoes. He even grabbed a piece of toast. It gave her some hope. He still looked so haggard, and she couldn’t recall the last time he had really smiled or laughed. She glanced over at her husband. He was alternating between reading the sports page and watching Max eat. They wanted to help him but he was fighting against them so hard. She was worried that if they pushed him too hard, he might run off on them, just when he needed their help the most. “So, what are everyone’s plans for today? It’s supposed to be a beautiful Sunday, much cooler. Max, do you have to work today?” she inquired.

His stomach was highly protesting all the food he was forcing down. He hadn’t eaten this much in some time. He was concentrating on not throwing up and wasn’t paying attention. When he took a sip of juice, he looked up and realized that they were waiting for him to say something. “Uh…sorry. What’d you ask?”

Diane’s eyes shifted to her husband’s for a moment. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. This wasn’t good. “I was wondering if you had to work today?” she asked again, being careful to keep as much of her concern out of her voice as possible.

“Um, no. I’m off until tomorrow at 2:00,” he replied and carefully took another bite of potatoes.

Philip folded the paper and put it down. “Well, why don’t we do something as a family today? Maybe a drive, or a picnic or something? It’s been too long since we did anything as a family. What do you all say?”

“That sounds wonderful. Isabel? Max, what do you say?” Diane asked quickly, hoping to catch him before he could make up an excuse.

Max looked up at his parents. They were looking so hopeful. He glanced over at Isabel. She too wanted him to say yes. He wanted to, too. His stomach had other ideas. It churned and started to burn. His face suddenly felt hot. He blanched as he felt the bile rise in his throat. “Oh, God.” He knocked over his chair as he ran from the table and straight into the bathroom.

Diane felt tears form as they all heard the retching. She looked over at his plate. It was almost empty. The first time he’d eaten a whole meal all summer. She wiped at her eyes and went to the cabinet to get a glass down.

The bathroom door was partially open so she walked in. He was sitting on the floor, his head resting against the wall, his eyes closed. She carefully bent down to him. “Here, honey. Ice water. Take a few sips to rinse your mouth out.” He smiled weakly at her as he took the glass. She reached for a washcloth, dampened it with cool water, and gently wiped the sweat from his face.

He closed his eyes as the cloth swiped over his face. He was so hot the cloth felt wonderful. “Thanks Mom,” he said and opened his eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry. I…I tried… I’m sorry.”

Diane sat down on the tile next him and studied him. “Honey, what can we do to help you? Please tell us. We love you so much and… Honey, whatever it is, we’ll still love you. Please let us help you.”

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t tell them but he had to do something. He was so tired. It was hard to think. He kept remembering last night’s dream, the nightmare. It hadn’t been anything like any of his other ones. He’d never dreamed of being born in the White Room before. And in that dream the White Room looked different somehow. But that scream. It was so intense, so terrified. It tore at his psyche. He had been born and no one but his tormentors were there to greet him. He was alone. All alone. He felt tears filling his eyes and he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his mother’s waist and burying his tears in her embrace. “Don’t leave me, Mom. Don’t leave me alone.”

Diane held him close and rocked him in her arms. “I won’t, honey. I won’t leave you. I’m here for you, honey. I’ll always be here for you. I love you.” She rocked and kissed him, and stroked his trembling arms. She had no idea how long they sat there on the bathroom floor but finally his trembling and sobbing quieted. She felt Philip come behind them and helped Max to get up. He was exhausted.

Philip gently eased his son from his wife’s arms and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, son. Let’s get you to bed before you keel over on us.” He had to practically carry Max to bed. Max was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Diane hovered over him. It was almost an hour before she would leave his room.

Diane took two aspirins and joined her husband in the den. She looked around for her other child. “Where’s Isabel?”

Philip placed his hand over his wife’s. “She left. She said she was going to see Michael. She was pretty upset. She got even more so when she saw these,” he told her as he showed her the brochures.

Diane’s heart broke. “Oh Philip, I just don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I mean, you saw and heard him earlier. He’s afraid we’re going to leave him. If we force him to go to some hospital and then…then leave him, wouldn’t his worst fears be coming true?”

~

Isabel was near tears as she paced around the small, unkempt apartment. “Don’t you get it, Michael? Max is loosing it big time. Mom and Dad are considering having him committed to a mental facility. He’s that bad!” she yelled at him in frustration.

Michael had his arms crossed in his normal defensive pose and shook his head. “Nope. Not going to happen. If Max doesn’t bust himself out of there, I will. No way we’re going to let that happen.”

“AAGGGGH!” Isabel growled at him. “I know we can’t let him be committed but Michael, they aren’t wrong. He needs help.” She suddenly plopped down on the battered sofa as tears flowed. “I thought he was getting better. Last week he only had a couple of nightmares. That’s a huge improvement over two weeks ago when it was every night, or last month when he was waking the house up two and three times a night. And then this morning… God, Michael, at two o’clock in the morning he was in the shower for over an hour. He didn’t turn the water off until I knocked on the door.”

Michael scratched his chin uncomfortably. “Uh, Iz, there are a few reasons a guy might be taking a long shower in the middle of the night.”

Isabel leveled a glare at him. “I know that. God knows I’ve heard more than I’ve ever wanted coming from behind that bathroom door from Max and YOU!” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “You didn’t see him when he opened the door. He looked… He looked like he did when you and the sheriff dragged him out of the White Room, like he’d been through hell and back. And then this morning at breakfast, oh God, that was my fault. I asked him to try to eat more. He’s lost so much weight. He said he would. This morning he ate almost his whole breakfast and then… God, he ran from the table and threw it all up. Mom and Dad saw everything.”

Michael’s scowl deepened more than normal. He and Max had been going rounds recently. Max wanted to crawl under a rock and hide while he thought it’d be better to practice and prepare for the enemy, maybe turn the tables and go after them instead. Even with their differences though, he knew that he’d stand by Max. He wouldn’t allow him to be locked up somewhere. But this… How do you help a guy that’s falling apart at the seams? He ran his hand through his hair and wished Liz was here. She might be able to help him. She was better at this crap then he was. Even Maria might be able to do something. He knew that Max and Maria had started hanging out occasionally. Max had assured him they were just friends, and from what he could see that was about it. He wasn’t worried, not when he made sure Alex was usually close by just in case. Maybe he could ask Maria to…what? Talk to him, maybe? God knows she could talk someone’s ear off, but could she listen? “Maybe he could talk to someone we know? Too bad Liz is still in Florida. Maybe someone else could play stand in?”

Isabel sighed. “I asked him to talk to the sheriff. He said that he’d try. I just hope he gets the chance before Mom and Dad do something drastic.”

~

He was so scared. Everything was so bright, the lights, the walls, the floor, everything. It hurt his eyes. He curled up in a tight ball in the corner of the room. They’d put him here after they had hurt him. The marks on his arms still hurt. They had made this red-colored stuff come out of his arms over and over again. It’d hurt. Then they put stuff in his arms and he’d felt awful. His head kept spinning and his stomach kept turning upside down. Then they put him here and went away. He was tired and confused. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. He knew it. He felt it. But this was his world and he was terrified of it. He closed his eyes as sleep took over and his mind began to drift, seeking out anyone that might be out there, anyone at all.

Max woke with a start. His heart was once again racing. He was totally disoriented and had to think for a few moments before he realized where he was. He saw the sun peaking through his not quite closed curtains and wondered what time it was. He looked over at his watch and was surprised to find it was still afternoon. He laid there quietly, trying to figure out why his subconscious was doing this to him. He figured he’d have a few nightmares. It stood to reason after what had happened to him. But he hadn’t been prepared for how bad they were going to be though. He thought he’d turned the corner last week. He thought he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. But now…now he honestly didn’t know what was happening to him. He couldn’t figure out why he was having nightmares of being born in the White Room. And why they had to be such vivid dreams. Not just picturing what was happening but feeling it, the sheer terror of what was happening to him. He looked down at the insides of his elbows almost expecting to see needle marks. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or not that they weren’t any there. Was it possible that he really was losing his mind?

When he closed his eyes and tried to relax he heard his parents’ voices. It sounded like his dad was on the phone. Did he say something about availability? He wondered for a moment if his parents were planning a trip. A change of scenery might do him some good. At least it couldn’t hurt. Then he heard his mom sob. His eyes popped open with alarm. His mom wouldn’t be sobbing over a vacation. This had to be bad. He quietly made his way to the kitchen where the main phone was and where he’d heard his parents’ voices.

Philip sat at the table and held his wife’s hand as he talked to the doctor. “So, he would have a semi-private room…twice daily therapy sessions. What about medications? My wife and I don’t really want him to be…doped up, but if there’s something that might help… Oh, a complete medical and psychological exam upon admittance. Still we would be consulted before he was given anything, right? Good, good.” Diane lightly slapped his hand to get his attention and mouthed him a question. “What about visitors? How often could we… Not for the first week and then twice a week for two hours. No more than two at a time and no friends for at least the first 30 days.” He sighed heavily. “How long is the normal stay? Forty-five to 90 days. I see. What about school? He’s always been a good student… Oh, okay, that’s good. And security? What kind of… Patrols, cameras. He’d be watched around the clock for the first week. Okay. Well, thank you doctor. We’ll be in touch.” He punched the button to disconnect and then held his wife’s hands in his. He shook his head sadly. “I just don’t know, Diane. I just don’t know. He’s going to fight us on this. No way is he going to do this voluntarily. I just don’t know.” His wife could only sob in reply.

Max stood in the doorway, partially hidden from his parents’ view. He was stunned at what he’d heard. He hadn’t believed that they’d go through with their threats. He had to do something. He stepped around the doorway. “Please don’t. Don’t send me away like that. Please,” he pleaded, his voice choked with emotion.

Diane’s heart caught in her throat. “Oh, honey.”

Philip had to swallow a few times before he could talk. He held out his hand for his son to come and join them. “Max, come here. Please, sit down and talk to us. Tell us what it is that we can do then to help you. We’ve got to do something.”

Max shakily reached for his father’s hand and took a seat at the table with them. His mom reached over and grabbed his hand as well. “I…I thought I was getting better last week. I really did but…now I don’t know.”

Philip eyed his son carefully and decided to tread very cautiously. This was the closest he’d come to telling them anything. “Can you tell us what’s happening? Maybe if we understood better we could come up with a better solution. Can you tell us about the nightmares?”

Max closed his eyes and tried to think, tried to decide how much to tell them without it blowing up in his face. He felt his mom squeeze his hand to reassure him. He took a slow even breath and opened his eyes. “I… I’m being held in a room and there’s no way to get out. I’m…they… I’m being hurt. But…eventually my loved ones do come and rescue me.” He can feel his mom’s hand shaking but she’s remaining stoically quiet, afraid to interrupt. “During the day I just can’t get it out of my head sometimes. It’s like I have to…fight it down or something. But last week I thought I was getting better. The dreams were…lessoning and I could concentrate more.” He paused to get control of his thoughts and emotions before continuing. “Now I don’t know what to think. It…the dreams, they’re twisting and…I can’t fathom why.”

Philip knew that his son was very reserved and while he had always been sensitive, he always seemed to keep careful control of his emotions. But not now. Emotions were playing very clearly across his face. He had no doubt that his son was telling them the truth, or at least as much of the truth that he could. Something was telling him that there was more to these nightmares. “How are they twisting, Max?” he asked gently.

“Last night I…I dreamed I was born there, in the White Room. It seemed so…real. I could feel how…scared I was. I was this little kid and they…they didn’t care. They still…they still…” He tore his hand away from his parents and turned away from them so they wouldn’t see as he rubbed angrily at his eyes as the tears refused to obey and began falling.

Diane looked helplessly at her husband. She didn’t know what to think. A thousand scenarios ran through her mind, but one kept coming back up. Someone had hurt her son badly. She didn’t know if it was recent or before he’d been adopted. Neither Max nor Isabel had ever talked about their lives before they’d adopted them. When pushed, all they’d talk about was the Children’s Center where they’d been placed for a short time before coming home with them. They always claimed not to remember anything before that. Was it possible that they both had purposely blocked those memories because they were too painful and now…now Max was starting to remember and it’s tearing him apart? Oh God, what could have happened to him? She stood and walked over to her son and wrapped him in her arms and just held him for the second time that day.

Max just let his mom hold him. It helped. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He had them. Isabel had told him last fall that she needed them. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he still needed them too. “Please don’t send me away.”

Philip watched as Diane held him and wondered what the White Room was. That had been a slip, he was sure of it. He was also sure that it probably would do more harm than good for him to be sent away somewhere. “We won’t, son. But I am going to insist that you get some help. You need some therapy at the very least. And maybe there’s some medication that might help to…deal with this.”

He let go of his mom and sat up straight in the chair. He was once more in control of his emotions, at least in some part. He looked over at his dad and could tell that he wasn’t going to budge. “Okay, I…I’ll see a therapist but no drugs. I just…no drugs.”

Philip nodded. “Okay, let’s start with the therapist. I’ll make some more inquiries tomorrow and see who’d be the best one for you to talk to.”

Who’s going to be qualified to analyze an alien/human hybrid that’s been tortured by the FBI? Well, if one were to be found, it most likely would be in Roswell. Max nodded in agreement. His mom hugged him again. If nothing else it bought him some more time to figure out what was going on in his head. Plus it made his parents somewhat happy that he’d opened up a little to them. He knew they were hurt that he didn’t share much of his life with them. But he was afraid of losing them and hurting them even more if they knew. And he was just starting to realize how much it would really hurt to lose them as well.

~

Part 2

Max lay back in bed with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The problem with taking a nap during the day was that it totally screwed up your nighttime sleep. Not that his nighttime, or anytime, sleep wasn’t already totally screwed. This just didn’t help. He heard the jeep pull into the driveway outside and he glanced over at his bedside clock, 1:39 a.m. At least someone had a good time tonight. What a wasted day it had been for him. What really sucked was that it had been his day off, too. He heard his sister’s footsteps as they approached and he turned when they stopped at his doorway. “Hey.”

Isabel checked to make sure that their parents weren’t around before going to sit on her brother’s bed. “What are you doing up? Did you have another nightmare tonight?”

Max shook his head. “No. I would have had to have been asleep in order to have one. I slept too much today and now can’t sleep at all.”

She glanced out the door and into the hall to make sure no one was around. “Max, we need to talk. I saw Dad going over brochures today. They were… Max, they were for mental health facilities. This is getting serious. You’ve got to do something. Talk to someone. You can’t…”

“I know. Dad was doing more than just looking at brochures. I caught him calling them this afternoon,” Max informed her in a defeated tone.

“Oh God, Max.” She paced around for something, anything, to hold onto as her world fell apart, right along with her brother. Remembering her conversation this afternoon, she came to a halt and sat back down at the foot of the bed. “I talked to Michael. I didn’t know what else to do. He won’t let that happen. We’re not going to let them take you away…not again. Besides, I know you wouldn’t allow it. You’d fight them.”

He sat up and looked at his sister. “Isabel, they’re not having me committed, at least not yet. I talked to them a little and agreed to go see a therapist. It’s the only thing I could think of to buy me some time to figure out what’s going on inside my head.”

“Max, what happened? I thought that the stuff you and Alex got off the Internet and at the library a couple of weeks ago was helping you deal, that you were getting better. But last night…”

“You’re right. Last night was different. Doing all the research on posttraumatic stress disorder with Alex did help. Just putting a name to it helped. The problem is that the recommended treatment is therapy, medication, or hospitalization, and I can’t do that. And last night… I just don’t know. Last night was…different, more intense. It’s like my subconscious is taking what happened in the White Room and going places that I just don’t understand.” He suddenly felt tired. He was tired of fighting. Tired of not being able to sleep. Tired of being different. Tired of having to lie and tell half-truths. Tired of keeping track of everything. Tired of worrying everyone and worrying about everyone. Tired of leading. Tired of thinking. Tired of being alone. He closed his eyes and wished for the days when his biggest worry was remembering his lines for the puppet shows he and Iz used to do for their parents when they were little.

Isabel watched him close his eyes and saw how his brow bunched in worry. The dark circles told of his exhaustion. The way his cheeks sunk in made him look gaunt and sickly. He was sickly. “They scare you, these new nightmares, don’t they?”

He opened his eyes. He couldn’t hide his worry from her. “Until now all my symptoms fell in line with what Alex and I found. This… Yeah, it’s scaring me. But the treatment that I know I need I can’t get.”

“What are you going to do if this therapy fails and Mom and Dad feel they have no other choice?” she asked hesitantly, afraid of his answer.

He leaned his head against the wall and hoped against hope that the therapy would help. But he knew better. It was doomed to fail because he couldn’t tell them what had happened. “Whatever I have to do.”

“You’ll run.” She sat quietly for a few minutes, taking in the inevitability of what was likely to happen. Running. Max would run just when he needed his family and friends’ support the most. “You won’t be alone, Max.”

“Let’s not worry about things that haven’t happened yet,” he told her and then changed the subject, “How was the new Star Wars movie that you and Alex saw tonight?”

Diane stood down the hall just out of eyesight of her son’s room but well within earshot. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on their conversation. She had heard Isabel come in and wanted to wish her goodnight and maybe check on how Max was doing. Her breath caught in her throat at what she heard. Max had threatened to leave earlier in the year after the kitchen fire. She’d always known there was something different about her children. Things just didn’t always add up. And of her two children, Max had always been more secretive, more closed off from her. She thought that if she knew his secret he could open up to her, and then maybe she could be there for him more. Now things were worse, much worse, and if they pushed Max, she’d lose him. She knew without a doubt that Max would run if they gave him no choice, and Isabel would follow. She’d never been more scared for her children in her life. She felt the tears threaten as she silently made her way up the stairs. Oh God, what were they going to do?

~

The next morning Diane paused as Max came in and got a glass of juice. He still looked so tired. “Honey, do you want some breakfast? I’d be happy to make you something real quick.”

Max thought for a moment. From what he had read, he knew that his loss of appetite was most likely due to stress brought on by dealing with the PTSD. He wasn’t really hungry but he should try to eat something. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and went for the milk and cereal. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just have some cereal, Mom.”

“Okay, honey.” She held her tongue as he dumped Tabasco on his Coco Puffs. It was beyond her how anyone could eat that, but at least he was eating. It was all she could do to not stare at him while he ate. She jumped when the phone rang, startling her, and quickly answered it. “Oh, Philip. You did? That’s great. When can they… Oh, okay. Just a minute, let me write it down.”

Max watched as his mom wrote ‘Dr. Bennington, 1101 Citrus, 555-2234, 3:00 today’ on the message board, obviously his new therapist. His stomach churned and he lost what little appetite he had.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your office at 2:30 and we’ll go from there. See you then, Honey.” She hung up the phone and turned to her son who was no longer eating. “That was your dad. He talked to some doctors he knew and a few of them recommended Dr. Bennington. He specializes in working with teens and young adults. Your dad was able to get you in at 3:00 today. Um, actually the first appointment will be more of a family one. Your dad and I first, then you, and then all three of us to discuss the best course of action.”

He had a hard time meeting her eyes. No matter what he’d said yesterday, he didn’t want to do this. It was a waste of time and he hated that his parents were putting out the money when he was certain it wasn’t going to work. “I have to work today from 2:00 ‘til 8:00. I can’t make the appointment today. I’m off Friday morning so that would work. I don’t have my schedule for next week so…”

She cut him off, “Max, you will either tell Milton that you have a doctor’s appointment today and need a few hours off, or I will call and tell him for you right now,” she told him firmly.

He pushed the bowl of cereal away from him. The smell of it was making his stomach churn even more. “Okay.”

“Good. Your dad and I will be by at 2:45 to pick you up from work. If Milton needs you later on, tell him that we can drop you back off around 5:00 or so.” She did her best to hold her firm tone but her heart ached at how dejected and…broken he looked as he nodded in agreement. Her tone softened a little, “Honey, no after-school or summer job is more important than your health. I’m sure Milton won’t be upset.”

He could only nod in agreement.

~

When Max asked for a few hours off for a doctor’s appointment, Milton had nodded sympathetically and told him to go ahead and take the rest of the day off. He hated the pity he saw in Milton’s eyes. Promptly at 2:45 his parents picked him up and they headed over to the therapist’s office. As his mom had told him earlier, she and his dad had gone first to discuss their concerns and then it was his turn. He took a seat in the comfortable looking side chair and ran his sweaty palms up and down his jeans, wanting this over with as soon as possible.

“Your parents are very concerned about you, Max. They care about you a great deal and want to help you. Do you think you could let them do that? Let them help you?” the therapist asked and watched the obviously nervous young man’s reaction. Fear.

“Of course I do,” Max told him once he could find his voice.

Dr. Bennington nodded. From what Mr. and Mrs. Evans told him, Max was a very private person who didn’t open up to many, if any. They told him of his and his sister’s adoptions, of finding them alone in the desert, of them being abandoned, and of them both claiming not to remember anything about their birth family or how they came to be in the desert that night. Mrs. Evans thought the trouble Max was having now might be stemming from that time, from some suppressed trauma that was just now rising to the surface. It certainly was a possibility but that didn’t mean it was the only reason. He was interested in finding out why Max was so nervous and reluctant to go into therapy. He had a feeling that this one was going to take some time. “So Max, why don’t you tell me about these nightmares that I hear you’ve been having? Do you remember what happens in them?”

And so it began, more lies and half-truths, and more having to think and keep track of what he said. One more thing making him tired. He concentrated on remembering what he’d told his parents last night and started there. “I’m being held in a room…”

~

‘Take one a day with breakfast.’ ‘Take one as needed for sleep.’ Max laid his head back on the headrest from his place in the backseat and stared dejectedly at the car roof as they headed home from the pharmacy. “We agreed to no drugs last night,” he reminded his parents. “But these aren’t drugs, they’re medication and if they can help, why not try them,” they’d replied. He wanted to scream, “Because I don’t know what they could do to my alien biology!” but he said nothing and let them fill the prescriptions he had no intention of taking. He turned his head and looked out the window as they pulled into the driveway of the comfortable Spanish style house that had been his home all his life. Once upon a time it had offered him a safe haven from the world. Now he felt like it was going to swallow him up and eat him alive. He had to get away. He couldn’t stand the constant watching his parents were now doing. He needed a breather. The second the car stopped he was out the door. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll pick up the jeep and be back later. Don’t worry, I won’t be out late,” he quickly told them as he jogged down the street before they could react.

He took the long way to the UFO Center, passing through the park, all the way down the main street instead of cutting across Cypress. He came to the alleyway that ran along the Crashdown and stared up at the empty balcony. He longed to climb the fire escape and talk to her, or just sit and look at her. After several minutes of longing, he hung his head as he crossed the street to where his jeep was parked in front of the UFO Center. He climbed in the jeep and just sat. He didn’t want to go home. Going home meant he had to face reality. Face that he was falling apart and he wasn’t ready yet. He saw the Crashdown in his rearview mirror and noticed that Maria was working. She could talk his ear off over anything, the weather, the town, the latest gossip of summer romances, the idiot customers, anything. He wouldn’t have to think. He could just listen, and that’s exactly what he needed at the moment. He climbed back out and headed over. Maria quirked an eyebrow at him as he walked in. “Hey, Maria.”

“Hey yourself, stranger.” She looked him up and down for a moment and poured him a Cherry Coke. “You look like you could use this.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged and took a sip.

Maria watched and waited for the question. It was always the same question and it was the first thing he asked her.

“So, have you heard from Liz? How…how’s she doing?” he asked automatically.

“Laying on the beach, soaking up some rays, and doing a lot better than you appear to be. How was the doc appointment?” Maria asked.

He kept his eyes on his drink as he sipped it. “So you know about that.”

“I know everything in this town,” she told him and whipped out her order pad. “What’ll it be?”

“Oh…uh, just the Cherry Coke. I’m not really hungry,” he told her and did his best to ignore her glare.

“Max, Liz is going to take one look at you and go ballistic. Have you looked in the mirror recently?” she asked as gently as possible.

“No. I try not to. And Liz would have to look first. Given that she left the state to get away from me…I don’t think that’s likely,” he replied. Suddenly a plate of food was shoved at him. He looked up in surprise. “I didn’t order this.”

Michael had been watching from the order window. He and Max hadn’t really seen too much of each other this summer. He used to practically live in Max’s room, especially during the long, hot New Mexico summers, but now they hadn’t been together in a couple of weeks. And he didn’t like what he saw. Max looked like @#%$, pure and simple. “Yeah, well, I made it and I’ll be pissed if you don’t eat it,” he gruffly told him before returning to the grill and watching his friend to make sure he ate.

Maria caught the surprised look on Max’s face and raised her hands in defense. “I know nothing, but you had better eat. You know how testy cooks get when their creations aren’t thoroughly enjoyed, and Michael’s testy enough already. No need to add to it.” She smiled as he took a bite. She decided to keep talking and maybe if she kept him distracted enough, he might clean his plate before he realized it. “So, did you hear that Tommy Sorrenson is seeing Kelly Saunders? They were spotted going at it hot and heavy during the midnight showing of The Phantom Menace. Oh, and Georgina McNally is starting to show so I guess those pregnancy rumors are true. I heard she’s being home schooled this coming year. No word on who might be the dad but my bet is on Todd Peterson. I mean, like, how many times did they get caught in the eraser room last year? Oh, and Julie Whitney was seen picking up birth control pills at Walgreens.” She snorted, “I guess Jesus Rodriguez isn’t going to be needing all those condoms he got at the Circle K out on 285. Did you know that…”

As Maria prattled on, Max smiled for the first time in a long time. It was just what he needed as he took another bite of his Will Smith burger and dumped more Tabasco on his fries.

Maria glanced over at Michael as she kept up her monologue of the latest gossip and gave him a small smile. He had done a nice thing for his friend. She got a slight grunt in reply before he turned his attention back to the grill and watching his friend eat. Twenty minutes later she shoved a piece of Men in Blackberry pie at him and took his empty plate away. “So, you never answered, how’d it go today?” she asked as she refilled his Cherry Coke while he finished his pie. Now that he was fed, she figured she was free to question him.

“It was okay, I guess. It’s just…it’s such a waste of time. I can’t tell him anything really. So how’s he going to help?” Max lamented.

She slapped her hand down on the counter. “I’ve got it! You need someone to talk to and a professional for advice. Split them in two. See the shrink…”

“He’s a therapist,” Max corrected.

She waved her hand. “Whatever. See what he suggests and you can unload on Alex and me. Between the two of us, maybe you can get some peace. Maybe even a good night’s sleep.”

Max gave her a dubious look. “I don’t know, Maria.”

“Well, you’re not going to know until you try. Tell you what, tomorrow night I’ll have Alex over at my place. I’ll order a pizza and rent a video for later. You can talk all night and then relax, have pizza, and watch a movie. What could be better than that?” When he still looked dubious, “What, like you have a better offer?”

“Okay, okay. I’m already going crazy so I guess I’ve got nothing else to lose,” he joked lightly as he glanced at the clock and frowned. “I better be going. I sort of bolted on my parents earlier. Better get home before they put out an APB on me.” He pulled out his wallet to pay.

“Put it away. It was on the house. See you at 7:00 sharp tomorrow. Mom’s got a date with the sheriff so she’ll be out of the way most of the night,” Maria said with a kind smile.

“Thanks,” he looked over at the pickup window for a moment, “for everything.”

“What are girlfriends for?” she replied and watched as he left, got in the jeep, and drove home. Liz was going to be majorly pissed if she saw him looking like that. She would probably blame herself for walking away from him and taking off for Florida. But she wasn’t responsible for Max. She wasn’t responsible for what Pierce did to him or the nightmares he was suffering because of it. But she would blame herself nonetheless because she loved him. Maria looked back at the grill area. “So Spaceboy, you got plans tomorrow night or you want to play a little doctor?”

Michael looked at her. She was dynamite and he would love nothing more than to light a spark, but it wasn’t safe. “I avoid doctors like the plague. Besides, I’m closing tomorrow night.”

Maria sighed in frustration. It had been worth a shot.

~

Philip was watching TV with Diane and listening for the sound of the jeep. He was considering going out for a walk himself, one that would just happen to take him past the UFO Center and the Crashdown, when he heard the sound he had been hoping for and relaxed a little. Max walked in and just stood in the hall with his hands in his pockets. “How was your walk?”

Max stepped into the den where his parents were. “Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“I can heat you up some chicken and rice if you’re hungry?” Diane asked hopefully.

Max shook his head. “That’s okay. I already ate at the Crashdown. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to turn in early tonight. I’m kinda tired,” he told them and started for his room. He paused and looked back at his mom. She looked so worried and upset. “Mom, I really did eat. A Will Smith burger, fries, and even a piece of Men in Blackberry pie,” he told her and then gave her a slightly rueful smile. “Michael kinda insisted and I know Maria wouldn’t let me out of there until I finished it. I did too, every bite,” he reassured her and was glad to see her return a smile. He felt a bit better as he headed to his room.

After getting undressed he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the glass of water and bottle of sleeping pills his parents had left for him. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take the chance. Besides, it wasn’t getting to sleep that was the problem. It was what happened when he was asleep. He hoped for the best as he stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. After virtually no sleep the night before, he quickly entered REM sleep.

He was strapped down to the table. They were poking his arm with those sharp tube things. Sometimes they left those things in attached to a hanging bag of stuff and then he’d start to feel ill. Sometimes it made him fall asleep. Now it was making him feel like the room was spinning but he couldn’t figure out which way it was spinning. The ceiling, walls, and floor all looked the same. He blinked and sometimes someone was there, sometimes they weren’t. He felt hot and cold at the same time. Someone was pushing on his stomach. Someone had longer tubes and was reaching between his legs. Someone came very close and looked right at him. A light flashed in one eye and then the other. They pushed on his lower stomach again and he felt something flow out. He didn’t understand what they were doing to him. He didn’t understand why they were doing these things to him. This wasn’t right. No one was here for him. He was alone. A tear fell down his cheek. He didn’t want to be alone. His mind called out, wasn’t there somebody out there that could hear him?

Max woke to a dark and quiet house. The only sound was his heart pounding. The room spun in all directions and he had no idea which way was up or down. He had to swallow a few times to keep his dinner down. It was the first good meal he’d eaten in a long time and he was determined not to throw it up. Plus if he threw up, he might wake his parents and that was the last thing he wanted to do. It was almost a half-hour before he was able to sit up. He took shaky steps as he headed to the bathroom to wash the now dried sweat off. He made the mistake of looking in the mirror and wondered who it was looking back. He wished he was six again and could climb into his parents’ bed and be held and reassured that he was loved. That he wasn’t that little boy lying on a table in the White Room being experimented on, and having God knows what else done to him. That he wasn’t alone with no one to hear his cries.

~

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10/3/04 4:47
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