Title: Crazy Times Two
Author: Deidre
Email: Deidremk@aol.com
Rating: NC-17/slash
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, either with respect to Melinda Metz’ work and characters, or to the wb or Jason Katims. Many thanks to all of you for creating such a fabulous world. Also, no infringement is intended in respect to Radiohead’s song title, either—just a respectful bow of thanks.
Category: Max/Liz/Michael

PART ONE

Max lay on his bed, listening to the radio… thinking. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, just letting his thoughts roam, especially at night.

And they always came back to Liz.

The house was quiet, empty because his parents were out of town for the next four days. Isabel was shopping, which meant that he’d actually found himself alone—a rare indulgence. This was time when he could just stare at the ceiling and figure out how he might win Liz back.

Of course, things were looking bright on that account, he thought with a soft smile. She’d loved his serenade last night, had literally beamed from her balcony. He’d actually felt her deep pleasure, as he’d tossed the roses up, had seen the wonder in her eyes when the flowers had quickly shifted to white. He was glad he’d remembered they were her favorite.

He reached for the phone briefly, considered calling her, yearned to beg her to come over.

The house was empty. It could be just the two of them.

Yet he knew she needed time.

He rolled over on his bed, glancing at the clock. It was well after eight o’clock, and Isabel would return soon--yet another reason why that budding plan was doomed for failure.

But not tomorrow night, a quiet voice countered. Isabel was spending the night out then, which meant it would be only him--and the empty, quiet house.

He smiled, reaching for the phone. Maybe he would call Liz after all.

Suddenly, as he sat up in bed, there was a strange hum of energy, as bluish light filtered all through his room. He had to squint his eyes, it was so strong, even as he jumped to his feet, terror rising within his chest.

The blue light grew in intensity, then narrowed to the most precise of images. One that was so incredibly familiar to him.

Then there she was. Beautiful as ever, yet different.

Materialized from nothing into something--his amazing, lovely Liz.

She paced in front of him, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. All he could do was stare. It was just too unbelievably weird—everything she was saying. He’d been dumbstruck ever since her arrival minutes before, and she just kept pacing.

Liz Parker. His beautiful Liz.

Then he quickly amended that thought. This was Liz Evans. Thirty-one years old, still gorgeous, and completely his… in the future.

It was all too much to take in, especially what she was telling him so quickly, so heatedly.

"I know this is all hard to believe," she said quietly. "But you’ve got to hear me, Max." Her voice was even more raspy and sexy now, tempered like a well-aged wine. She turned to him, her lovely dark eyes boring into his. If only what she were saying weren’t so frightening…so totally horrifying.

If only her words weren’t ending his world.

"You were together in that other life, Max," she whispered.

"No." He closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head. "No, we weren’t."

"Max, I’m saying it because it’s true," she continued in that raspy voice, taking his hand within her own. "You may not want to hear that right now, but it is definitely true.

"God, Liz," he cried, staring at her. He knew his face was anguished, because his heart definitely was. "You’re the only one for me…what are you telling me?"

"I’m saying you’re supposed to be with him," she said firmly. "You need to be with him, not me."

"No, you’re wrong." Tears welled in his eyes, and he shook his head. "I know you are."

She stepped closer, cupping his cheek within her palm, so soothing. "I know it feels weird sweetheart…I know."

This Liz was definitely different, yet she felt so familiar. She was so familiar with him, in ways his own Liz wasn’t. God, this was so bizarre.

He reached for her, desperate to kiss her, but she slipped away from him.

"Right now, Michael is feeling things. He’s very confused…and if you don’t reach out to him soon, he’s going to leave Roswell forever. And your unit won’t be as strong without him…"

Max just stared at her, his mouth open in disbelief. "Liz? You’re saying Michael has…feelings for me?"

"Very deep feelings Max. And he’s totally confused about them," she said, meeting his eyes meaningfully. "And he knows how much you love me. He’s going to leave, and our enemies are going to overtake us."

"By us you mean?"

"Earth," she whispered. "And that can’t happen. But so long as I’m in the picture, you never allow yourself to open to Michael. To your destiny."

"God, how can you do this to me?" Tears welled afresh in his eyes. "Tell me I have to let you go and that I have to be with him?"

"Once you open to him, Max, you’ll understand. Things were different on the home planet."

"Different how?"

"Michael was your mate…he’s changed this time around."

"Oh, God," was all he could whisper. His whole world spun on its axis, shifting crazily. What was she even saying?

"Don’t even tell me that," he breathed.

"You loved each other very much…you’re going to remember, Max."

"But I love you," he protested softly.

"I know that…"

"Liz, what am I supposed to do about the fact that you’re the one who completes me?"

She thought a long moment, just stood there in the darkness of his room, the moonlight cascading across her lovely features.

"I’m not sure, Max. But you have to think of something…a way to make this work so that Michael stays. You’ve got to go to him."



Michael stood facing Max in the half-light of his room, both of them just staring at each other for a long, silent moment. This was so incredibly uncomfortable, and yet it was so much what Michael wanted. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, so he just stared at his best friend, his leader. Those amber eyes were so beautiful, and he focused on their depths, willing his heart to calm.

"Just so you know, my parents are away for the weekend," Max stated quietly. "And Isabel is at a friend’s."

"Sure," Michael mumbled. He felt so uncertain about this—why would Max have come to him?

"Um…" Max began taking a tentative step toward him, glancing awkwardly at the floor. "The important thing is she’s got to see us together."

"Max, I don’t understand why you’d want to hurt her like this. I can’t even comprehend it."

Max continued to stare at his feet, and shrugged slightly, almost hopelessly. Michael’s heart lurched within him.

"You were just serenading her two nights ago," he asked. "What happened?"

"She needs to let me go, and she won’t," he answered quietly, meeting Michael’s gaze. "I can’t let her go either…and that’s keeping her from moving on."

"Oh, man," Michael said softly. "You’re trying to push her away."

"This is the only thing I could think of," Max said in a defeated voice.

"Why not Tess?"

Something Michael couldn’t quite name flashed in Max’s eyes, then he quickly looked away.

"Because you’re the one that I trust," he answered simply, and Michael’s heart began beating more quickly within him.

"What changed from the other night?" Michael pressed. He needed to understand what was going on here. "From the serenading crusade to win Liz back?"

"I can’t explain that, Michael." Max answered, dropping his eyes again, as he shook his head. "Okay?"

Then Max drew in a sharp breath, meeting his eyes, and Michael saw incredible pain shadow his features.

And that was his undoing. He pulled Max into his arms roughly, embracing him like a brother, as he had many times before. But he was surprised when he felt Max’s hands slowly close around his lower back—and immediately the embrace changed, became much more intimate. He felt Max’s heart hammering against his chest, felt the lean muscles of his back beneath his fingers.

"I know you must have a good reason, Maxwell." Michael whispered, trying to comfort him.

"I love her, Michael. God, so much. I’d do anything rather than hurt her like this."

"I know," Michael whispered, stroking his back, willing him to feel his strength. This was such a crazy plan, and Michael had no idea what the hell was going on.

Or why this thing that he’d wanted for such an incredibly long time, had suddenly presented itself. This opportunity. But he had to remember that Max didn’t feel anything for him, this was all only meant to push Liz away.

Max pulled back slightly and stared into his eyes again. Oh, God…those golden eyes, those long lashes. Michael had to draw in a sharp breath. He shouldn’t be feeling this for his leader, his friend. He should be fighting harder not to fall too hard. But it was difficult, when he’d secretly wanted this for such a long time.

Then Max really took his breath away, stopped it right within him, when he suddenly kissed him fully on the lips, so incredibly gentle, so soft. The sweet taste of him left Michael dizzy, unsteady. It was all so unexpected and unimagined. Slowly, Michael began to respond to his careful, tentative exploration. He opened his mouth and their tongues began entwining.

He’d dreamed of this so many times…at night, in his sleep. In the day. Had been tormented by the urge for it, yet nothing had prepared him for the explosion of heat that began cresting through his body the minute Max’s lips had grazed his own. There was so much energy roiling between them. Alien energy. He felt himself begin shaking slightly, unsettled by the heat quickly spreading through his body.

Then Max deepened the kiss, and Michael shivered at the sudden urgency he felt, as his lips parted more fully, hungrily. Max slipped his hands around his neck, through his hair, pulling him closer toward him, deepening the kiss in such a sensuous and unexpected way.

That one kiss conveyed so much. Too much.

Oh, god…maybe Max did want this.

Michael threaded his fingers through Max’s silky, dark tresses, so soft--like velvet to his touch. Their kisses grew even deeper in intensity, and now Max began trailing his lips down his throat, to his collarbone. Michael felt his uneven breaths graze his skin…felt Max’s fingers trembling against his upper back.

In the back of Michael’s mind, he kept hearing a voice warning him, cautioning him that this was terrain they were never meant to explore. That they were getting way too carried away. This was only about Liz seeing them together, not falling so quickly. So unbelievably hard.

Max nipped at his throat, then moved across his skin, back to his mouth. This time his kisses weren’t gentle, they were hungry, insistent, and when their tongues met, they danced forcefully. He couldn’t prevent the low moan that escaped from the back of his throat—and felt Max shiver a bit in response.

Yes, Max most definitely wanted this, and Michael couldn’t believe what it did to him.

Michael was straining painfully within his pants now, absolutely aching for him. Almost as if Max had heard his thoughts, he began wandering his hands from his lower back, slowly forward around his sides, until his fingers stilled on his abdomen. Max slowly eased Michael’s shirt out of his pants, and now his hands explored underneath the soft material, rubbing his fingers along his stomach, toying just within the edge of his waist band.

Michael gasped softly at the feel of those warm hands, because every place Max touched, left a little trail of fire on his body. He responded by allowing his own exploration to begin. He slipped his fingers firmly between Max’s legs, and wasn’t prepared for the soft answering cry he heard. Michael stilled--maybe he’d gone too far.

Max shook his head. "No, Michael," he pleaded, his voice so throaty he almost didn’t recognize it. "Please…don’t stop that."

Michael began rubbing him again firmly, his fingers stroking him through the rough fabric of his blue jeans. Max moaned and found his mouth again. This time the kiss was a desperate, hungry thing…needy. Answered by Max’s hips, which were now thrusting softly against his touch.

Michael had to get those jeans off of him, had to have more. He began quickly unfastening Max’s belt, slipping it open, then the button to his fly. He briefly glimpsed Max’s lovely, flat abdomen, his softly rippled muscles, and his heart nearly stopped. Slowly, carefully, he lowered the zipper and Max cried out again. Driven to the edge, just by that simple gesture.

What would he do when Michael actually took him within his hands? When they made love? Because surely that’s where this was leading…incredibly quickly. He closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut.

Oh, god…this wasn’t happening. He’d wanted it for so long. It wasn’t happening.



Max had made one critical mistake—at least if he hadn’t wanted to walk down this path. He’d remembered Liz’s words about opening to Michael, and shortly after their very first kiss, he’d done just that.

That one moment had changed his life forever…everything he’d known had come crashing down around him, within him.

The emotions and sensations hadn’t stopped crashing through him ever since. They just heightened with every touch from Michael, and now they were careening crazily through his body and mind. Max had loved him in their previous life. Desperately. Just by opening ever so slightly, the memory had instantly awakened--and with it so had powerful, erotic desire. What would happen if he allowed this bodily exploration to continue? What more would he remember, if it had immediately been that strong?
Now Michael was unbuttoning his pants. And he wanted it, wanted whatever he’d give him. He wanted in Michael’s jeans, too. The desire was unbelievable. He and Liz had explored their bodies so little, and she’d never touched him the way Michael was doing right now. He wanted nothing more than all of Michael, his skin bare against his own. His face flushed deeply. He wanted it all.

He ached so badly now, his erection pressed painfully within his pants.

Dimly, he remembered Liz…oh, god. Oh what was he doing here? She was coming over, this would devastate her. Stupid, stupid plan.

Yet he couldn’t stop…not at all.

Michael slowly eased his zipper down, and Max thought he’d come right then and there. He thrust his hips gently against Michael, his own hand wandering down between his legs. More, he had to have more of him. He felt Michael slip his shirttail out of his pants, more desperate hungry kisses. His pants were partly off his hips now, Michael’s hand lifting back the waistband of his boxers, slipping his fingers underneath--and his heart hammered like a freight train.

How could he want this so much?

The memories of their past life continued to flash quickly within his mind, as wave after wave of incredible love washed over him, escalating this growing desire at every turn. Oh, Michael had loved him so much…just as he loved him even now. No wonder he’d seemed so angry with him for such a long time.

He began unbuttoning Michael’s pants quickly, his fingers so awkward and fumbling. He needed more of him, right now…he ached with how much he wanted him.

What was happening to him? To both of them?

His chest began to burn with restless, alien energy. This was unlocking something within him, something dormant and lost.

He eased Michael’s zipper down, letting his pants fall open, even as he felt Michael’s hand slipping his own pants further down his hips. His hand stopped briefly, caressed his hip beneath his thumb. It was such a simple, tender gesture, but nearly undid him. Max found his lips again, teasing them open with his tongue.

And heard a sharp intake of breath, a quiet sob from his window. His eyes flew to the open casement, where Liz stood, her face revealing how thoroughly heartbroken and crushed she was. He couldn’t stop panting, he was wild, out of control. He kept gasping, trying to still his breathing, he was so damn overheated… and so ashamed for her to see him like this. So incredibly ashamed.

But not sorry, and that was the worst part—for hurting her, yes, but not for what he’d just discovered with Michael.



Liz just stood there at the window, watching. They were making love…or heading that way, even with their clothes still on. But that technicality was changing quickly, as she watched Michael slipping Max’s pants loosely over his hips, his hand playing between his legs.

She thought she’d throw up, she really did. Or that she might faint on the spot.

The thing that hurt the most was how much Max was enjoying it. He was on fire with what was happening, so pleasured.

How long had this been going on? She’d been so wrong to come tonight—to think that all this time she’d believed he wanted back with her, when really he’d been finding solace in Michael’s arms.

She watched him slip his hand between Michael’s legs, rubbing frantically. Faint…might faint, she thought.

Then he began unbuttoning Michael’s pants so gently with those beautiful hands, and she couldn’t help it. She sobbed.

And his eyes flew to hers, and when she thought it wouldn’t get worse, it actually did. Because the only time she’d ever seen such wild desire in Max’s eyes had been for her. Only her. His lips were swollen and wet, his face incredibly flushed…and his breathing was absolutely desperate. He seemed unable to settle it, even to speak to her…just kept gasping deep gulps of air.

That’s when she turned to flee. She wouldn’t watch this anymore, wouldn’t be insulted this way.

He’d said he loved her…told her over and over.

She ran as fast as she could through his dark backyard.