The Institute was much bigger than I had envisioned.
It was a labyrinth of corridors, rooms and secret corners. The walls were plastered white, the flooring a light brown linoleum. The offices were small, the labs were large. The floors were divided up according to their 'guests'. There was one for 'traitors', one for the 'delusional', one for the 'test subjects' and one very small area for 'children'. Of course, this is not what they were officially called. But that's how it translated when I was briefly informed of the different levels.
Waiting for the elevator, my eyes fixated on the label for the 2nd floor.
Nursery.
That was probably where they had kept Max when he was young.
Max squeezed my hand and I looked up at him. He gave me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was nervous. As nervous as I was. But as usual, it didn't show on the outside. On the outside he was the epitome of calmness.
We weren't going to the 2nd floor. We were visiting the 4th.
I glanced at the label, just as the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival and the opening of the doors.
Dissidents.
What Command would call traitors. The ones they would reprogram to believe that humans were to be used for their own benefit and make them follow Command's laws without blinking. The ones that had become rebels but were forced, through mind manipulation, to lose their own free will of thought and deduction.
Fortunately, a lot of those dissidents had been treated by James Dresden, the leader of the rebellion. He had made them temporarily forget what they were fighting for, making them believe that Command was correct, until their minds were unlocked at the right time. Hiding them in plain sight like a Trojan Horse.
Like they had done with my father. Locked away the information about aliens until a time when he might need it to protect his daughter.
The elevator was empty and quiet. No music to calm your nerves. Just a big metal box with buttons on the side wall.
I stepped close to Max as we entered. There were five of us; Dresden, Max's father, an Institute worker, Max, and me.
My jacket was too warm. It was bothering me. But before I had the chance to do anything about it, Max had reached over and pulled down on the zipper, opening it. I gave him a half-hearted smile, feeling stupid.
But ever since being a prisoners at the hands of aliens, small confined spaces made me nervous. I wouldn't call myself claustrophobic, but that might just be exactly what I had become.
Are you nervous? Max asked, despite knowing the answer.
I answered just to have something to talk about, Terribly.
Me too, he admitted.
He looped an arm around my waist and pressed me into his body. At first, I was afraid it would make me feel even more confined, but his proximity only calmed me.
We don't even know what we're doing. We don't know how we did what we did.
No. He was troubled. He was used to this place. However, undeterred by the fact that he had been held captive somewhere in this building and having spent time here as a child, it wasn't the surroundings that were troubling him. He was bothered by the fact that I was here. That his people were still demanding things from me. Demanding acts and favors. As if it was our duty to dance to their tune.
He was annoyed that we were still being used. That the war had not ended with the end of the battle.
Now we had to meet the remainder of Command's army. The men that Dresden and his men had spent the past two weeks rounding up. The men that were still hostile and firm believers in Command's rule.
Command's men didn't even try to hide it. Not even to save their own lives. They were willing to die for a man that was already dead. Like they knew something, like they knew that it wasn't over.
This troubled Max.
Our purpose today was to attempt to eradicate the evil out of those few remnants of Command's league of terror. Like our shockwave seemed to have done at the time of our death. But no one really had a clue as to how that should be done. Not even Max and I.
But they expected us to do it. To free Earth from the last evil aliens.
The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at our destination. The doors slid open and shouts and arguing voices hit us like a wave. This was a loud floor.
I froze. Max grew still.
The rest of the men left the elevator while we remained. I considered reaching over and pressing the button for 'Ground Level', but my pounding heart was paralyzing me into inaction.
"Come on, Max. Liz." Philip Evans looked at us pointedly.
Yes, this was expected of us.
I looked at Max and mumbled bitterly, "Let's just get it over with."
He gave a short nod, slowly removing his arm from my waist, leaving a warm trail, before moving down my wrist and grabbing my hand. Our fingers interlaced, instinctively, comfortably.
The walls were darker on this floor. Not plastered. Wooden panels. It didn't take me long to recognize the corridors, the smell.
This is where Command had kept Max. This is where I had run to find help when he had been stabbed by Sean. My throat constricted, my steps halted, and Max couldn't comfort me this time. Max was recognizing the milieu as well. Especially the smell.
"We can't be here," Max got out through clenched jaws. I heard the unmistakable anguish in his voice. His determined protest.
Dresden looked back at us, his purposeful steps faltering. He frowned. "You-"
"Max almost died here," I said, anger creeping up my scalding throat.
They knew this! They must know this!
Why would they take us here? So casually. As if we wouldn't be uncomfortable by it. As if it would not bring forward horrible memories.
"We can't be here," Max repeated, more forcibly this time, and without further ado, he turned us around and pulled me towards the elevators.
No one said anything. No one yelled after us or ordered us to turn around. Maybe they got it.
I clenched my fists tightly together. Maybe those stupid idiots were finally putting two and two together.
But there were shuffling steps behind us, following us. The elevator was still at our floor, doors open. Max pulled me inside and pressed 'Ground Level'. We saw them on the other side, just reaching the elevator as the doors were closing.
"Max, ple-"
Mr. Evans' voice was cut off by the closing of the elevators and Max pulled me to him. I tucked perfectly beneath his chin, and I wrapped my arms tightly around his middle and buried my face in his shirt. The thumping of his heart against my ear was harsh as he enfolded me in the safety of his arms.
We stood like that, breathing heavily, wishing our mental demons away, until that 'Ping' announced the opening of the doors. Separating, he grabbed my hand and together we strode down the corridor towards the entrance.
Mr. Evans and Dresden caught up with us outside. By then, Max was livid.
"Are you fucking insane?!" he bellowed before the men had a chance to open their mouths.
Faced with Max's anger, they automatically took a step back.
"Calm down," Mr. Evans said, voice soft and calm.
"Do you have any fucking idea what happened to us in there?! On that floor?"
"Of course we do," Max's father tried to meddle. "I was there, remember? I was there during your captivity and I was there to heal you when Sean hurt you."
"Exactly!" Max sputtered, saliva flying from his mouth with his rage. He was still holding onto my hand, amazingly enough not squeezing me too tightly, his hold as comforting as it always was. "Then you should know better than anyone what a sick joke it is to bring us back there."
"We didn't think it would be that traumatizing for you," Dresden tried.
I huffed incredulously. "Not traumatizing?"
"It would be complicated to move the prisoners to other locations for you to treat them. It was easier to bring you to them than to-"
"Easier?!" Max demanded, looking like he wanted to simultaneously laugh and scream. "What about our well-being? Do you ever think about that? Or is it always going to be about your cause and what you want?!"
Before they had a chance to answer, Max shook his head and mumbled, "Fucking unbelievable." Turning to me, his eyes black with betrayal and hurt, he said, "Come on, Liz. Let's go."
"Max, Max," Dresden tried. "Come on. How are you going to get out of here? You have no car."
"We'll find a way," Max grumbled, already walking away, me in tow.
"Come inside and calm down," Mr. Evans all but pleaded. "We'll work something out."
There was almost desperation in his voice when Dresden said, "Please, Max. We're sorry. We'll arrange to get them to you. Whatever room you find comfortable."
Max's steps slowed.
What do you think? he asked me. Should we trust them?
I swallowed back my anger and my need to flee. Tried to suppress my desire to bury my head in the sand. They won't give up. We might as well do it today. But they should at least do it on our terms.
Right, Max agreed, his demeanor softening.
We came to a halt, our backs to Max's father and the leader of the rebellion, while Max took one deep breath after the other. After the fourth one, he turned.
"We do it our way or not at all," he said.
The relief was visible on both Mr. Evans' and Dresden's faces. Dresden was the one to voice their agreement, "Right. We'll work something out."
35 minutes later, our first 'patient' was seated in front of us, in a room of our choice (large area, with lots of windows), surrounding by eight Institute workers, prepared to interfere if something went wrong.
The man, a bearded dirty blond in his 40s with an evil grin and cold dark blue eyes, was restrained to the chair by velcro bands, wrapping all around him and the chair at his waist, upper chest and shins. One of rebellion's top military men was holding his arm up, aiming straight at the man's head, prepared to shoot at any moment.
All this commotion and the precautions they had taken made me nervous, made me think this was a very dangerous man. Most likely he was.
Which didn't comfort me much when I knew that our plan constituted touching that man.
What if he bites us? was my errant thought when we stood there, looking the guy over.
Max laughed, causing the personnel in the room to stare at us in bewilderment.
I mean, we're touching his shoulders. His head is still free to move. What if he turns his head and bites us?
And infects us with rabies? Max asked, amused.
I'm glad you're finding this so amusing, I grumbled.
He glanced down at me, squeezing my hand. He won't bite us.
I frowned. How can you be so-
He won't bite us, Max repeated.
I wouldn't just give in. I hope you're right, I told him.
I can heal, you know, he reminded me, winking at me.
It'll still hurt, I retorted.
Dresden cleared his throat. "Um, guys. Are you ready?"
I gave Max a glare I didn't mean. Secretly I was relieved that our conversation had lightened the seriousness of the situation.
"Sure," Max said reluctantly.
We approached the man with caution, as if he might indeed fly off the chair and start chewing on us.
As we took one side each of the man and placed our hands on top of each respective shoulder, the man threateningly bit out, "Don't touch me, mutants!"
We ignored him, but I made sure that my hand was at a safe distance from his mouth.
Ready? Max asked me and I gave a nod.
In unison, we closed our eyes and focused. Focused on each other. On each others' breathing. On the feel of each other. On how we felt when we were around each other. We remembered the light that we had become when we had died. We thought of the light we emitted when we made love. We thought of our love for our family and friends, of every good act we could think of. We thought of our moms and what they had meant to us. We thought of kissing, of making love, of sleeping close together with our bare skins touching.
At first the man felt cold. We were inside of his dark and monochromatic aura. We felt his anger and his need for revenge. We felt his sinister ideas and plans. But slowly, he became warmer. Slowly his feelings grew lighter and more vibrant. More alive. Better.
Once the temperature of his aura - once the feel of him - had reached our level of warmth, we opened our eyes.
Our gazes met first, smiles were exchanged, a private feeling of having shared and relived something very private. Something that meant a lot even to ourselves.
Next we removed our hands and took a step back while looking at the man.
He had lost his boastful expression. He looked as confused as the man that approached us after Command's death. The man that had told us to run.
We started to walk away from him, our hands finding the other when we came together, scanning the silent crowd. They were all looking at the man, frowning, trying to decide if something was different.
Then he started to speak. It started by asking questions about where he was. What had happened.
I looked at his aura, noticed the colors in the previously grey and black aura. They were bleak and washed out, still not fully recuperated, but they were there.
"Did it work?" Dresden asked us.
"We don't know," Max answered truthfully.
Dresden looked past us at the man, his forehead wrinkled in contemplation.
"I think it worked," Mr. Evans said.
Mr. Evans was seeing the man's aura. He was the only one, besides Max and I, who could see it.
"How...?" Dresden mumbled. "How are you doing this?"
Max almost smirked at him, looking mighty pleased. He didn't mind baffling those big leaders. He didn't mind leaving them confused and lacking answers. He certainly didn't mind putting them in their place. "We infuse them with goodness."
Mr. Evans looked at his son, concern in his eyes. "By doing so, does it deplete your own goodness?"
I reflected on the lightness of my heart, of how good I felt, of how the whole procedure had helped us almost as much as it seemed to have helped the man. It had forced us to focus on the good things.
"No," I replied in Max's place. "It doesn't."
Mr. Evans' right eye twitched as he observed me dubiously. "Huh," was all he said to that, before he diverted his attention to the prisoner, who was smiling at one of the workers, apparently recognizing him as an old classmate.
"We can't be sure yet. He can't be trusted yet." Dresden turned to Mr. Evans, pointing towards the man as he continued. "He should be put in quarantine to be evaluated in the same manner as the men from Dulce Base before we release him."
"Yes, I agree," Mr. Evans said.
"Do you have the energy to treat more prisoners?" Dresden asked, turning to us.
Max and I looked at each other and it only took one look to decide. "Okay," we answered in chorus.
We didn't have time to 'treat' all of the prisoners on that one day, halted by the fact that some of them actually died by the 'treatment'. Something that both frightened and upset Max and I, resulting in us having a lengthy meeting with some important men about what this could mean.
The only common pattern we found to the prisoners that would either die or frankly turn into ashes at our touch, was that they were all the worst prisoners of the lot. They were the darkest, the most evil, the most cunning, the ones closest to Command in degree of malevolence.
We reached the conclusion that in the case of all-consuming evil, when there was too much malice in the soul and in the body, it could not be healed. Once the light moved in and removed the darkness, there was nothing left of the person. So he died.
This lead us to a hypothesis about how we had conquered Command. About how he had died. Earlier, we had told Max's father and Dresden that Command seemed to have attempted to steal our essence to gain access to our connection, to our strength and abilities. Maybe by doing so, he had been infected with goodness - with light - and it had broken him apart like it was doing to his most vicious men. The shockwave emitted from our floating souls had been the final hit for Command, killing him instantly when already weakened by our light. The shockwave had treated the men not fully consumed by darkness and had made them alright again, but the ones too far gone - the ones too 'dark' - had been killed. Just like Command.
We killed them with kindness. Literally.
By the end of that day, Max and I felt concurrently rejuvenated and bone-tired. The light we had infused in the prisoners had been good for us, reminding us that life was worth fighting for. That our future was worth fighting for. We had beautiful friends and family, and we had each other.
Hopefully, that would be enough.
After a large supper at the Evans' residence, Max and I went upstairs to Max's room. We had filled the rest of the group in on what had happened today and the news had brought everyone hope. We had seen it on their faces. That tentative hope.
Michael had even kissed Maria on the lips. Right in front of everyone. Which had elicited cat calls from Alex and whistles from Max. Michael had used his trademark glare before he had pulled Maria into his side on the kitchen bench they were sharing and pressed a kiss to her hair.
No one had said anything about that. The act had been too endearing.
Once we closed the door behind us and the tranquility of the bedroom welcomed us, I put my arms around Max and hugged him close. We stood like that for several minutes, just inside the closed door, breathing each other in. Being alone for the first time since this morning.
The white light was already surrounding us, even if we were only standing like this. We were tapped up on light from the day.
Quietly, Max grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. I did the same with his. Step by step, we alternated between undressing one item of clothing until we were standing naked in front of each other.
Max put his hand over the lock to lock it, while his eyes never trailed from my frame. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing quickening. I felt the same quickening in my own chest, the strength of my blood rushing through the blood vessels. My longing for him was pounding between my legs, my breasts aching for his touch.
Gently, in strong contrast to the passion in his eyes, he took one of my hands and started walking towards the bed. I followed, admiring his toned behind, admiring how the muscles of his back rippled with his movements, admiring the well-defined muscles of his thighs and calves.
He sure was one beautiful and well-sculptured specimen of a man.
While he leaned forward to pull the bed covers back, I came to stand behind him and ran my hands down his beautiful back. I pressed my aching center against his well-shaped ass right before bending forward and pressing my front against his back in a backwards hug.
I loved him so much.
He raised up slightly, putting his hands on top of mine where they pressed against his abdomen.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, concerned.
He knew my mind. Felt it being filled up with lust for him. But sometimes, with intense emotions, it was difficult to read the other. Everything got so overwhelming. At those times, it was good that we could still talk to each other, in that normal human way.
"I just love you so much," I mumbled, cheek pressed against his left lumbar musculature.
"I love you too, Lizzie," he said. "Forever."
He smoothly turned in my arms and pulled me with him onto the bed. Our lips were hot and fiery as they came together, moving in a beautiful dance, tasting and loving. The movements of our mouths spurred on what our bodies wanted.
I rubbed against him, loving the feeling of his body, fueling our passion. With one easy lift of my hips, he settled me in a seated position on top of him. I kissed down the center of his chest, circled my tongue around his nipples and kneaded his toned flesh in my hands. I couldn't get enough of him.
I moaned as he took my breasts in both of his hands, brought his mouth to my nipple, sending fire in a line from the point where his tongue touched me to the apex at the top of my legs.
Me head fell backwards and I lost track of time and space. I was lost in him. Lost in Max Evans.
His hips moved up against mine, searching for that final contact between us. Lifting my hips and positioned myself above him, he easily slipped inside of me. We gasped at the sensation, at him stretching inside of me, of us connecting fully. At the love that surrounded us, mixing with our passion, making us float while we moved against each other. Faster, slower, pausing, kissing, faster, falling, kissing, slower, falling again. A beautiful ungoverned dance, made just for us.
Afterwards, we laid spent next to each other, our legs intertwined, drawing invisible doodles on each other's skin with our fingers, contented smiles on our faces, talking about everything and nothing.
Until someone knocked at the door.
"Max? Liz?"
Mr. Evans.
We went with the plan to pretend we were already asleep, until there was another knock.
"Max? Liz? It's urgent."
Sighing, Max mumbled, "It's always 'urgent'," and rolled out of bed.
He caught me looking at his butt with a satisfied smile on my face and winked at me, "You like?"
"I love," I admitted, my smile widening.
He pulled his boxers over his hips and leaned in for a kiss. "I love your tush too."
I laughed. "My tush?"
Another knock. Now more impatient than ever. "Max?"
Max rolled his eyes, stole another kiss, and picked his T-shirt off the floor, pulling it over his head as he walked towards the door.
I pulled the comforter up to my chin, hiding beneath the concealing covers. Even if I was covered up, it felt odd to be naked under the covers while my future father-in-law was standing mere feet away.
The oddity factor spiked up to horribly uncomfortable levels when Mr. Evans basically stormed into the room as soon as Max opened the room.
And I was suddenly worried that he could smell that we had just had sex.
Max gave me a look that said, Don't ask me what's wrong with him, gesturing in resignation with his hands.
"Please, do come in, Father," Max said sarcastically.
The sarcasm went straight over Evans Senior's head as he started pacing in front of the bed. I carefully pushed myself up into a seated position, extremely conscientious to hold onto the covers and keep them up to my chin.
"A moment ago, we received a disturbing piece of information." He stopped pacing, looking at us seriously, his eyes flickering from Max's to my face back to Max's.
Max slowly moved towards the bed and sank down next to me. He was serious when he asked, "What's wrong, Dad?"
"We are missing someone."
I frowned. "Who?"
"Everyone else is accounted for. Even the ashes in the tunnels from the shockwave has been identified. We thought he was one of those piles. But he's not. And some of the men you have been treating today told us some troubling things."
"Who, Dad?" Max insisted.
"The mayor. Eugene Bleeker."
I felt the blood drain from my face while the remnants of a conversation between Max and I rushed through my memory.
Never look the mayor in the eyes.
Why?
Because he can do what Command can do, as long as he has eye contact. He likes to play, like a cat does with its prey. He'll kill you for his own sinister pleasure, rather than just kill you. He'll like to torture you first.
"What?" Max breathed with a mixture of annoyance and anger.
"Some of Command's men saw the mayor flee when Command started to become ill from trying to steal your abilities. Right before the shockwave."
I licked my lips. "What does this mean?"
I knew what it meant, but I was hoping Max's father would tell us something completely different and kill my fears.
Mr. Evans looked grim. "It means that we have no idea of Mr. Bleeker's current location." He sighed, tiredly. "It means that we have no idea where the most dangerous man, after Command, is."
Max looked at me, disappointment in his eyes, and confirmed in a low tone what I already knew, "It means that the war is not over."
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A/N: Just letting you know that there is only one chapter left of "Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie". But as you can probably guess from the ending to this latest chapter, I won't finish the whole story in merely one chapter. In other words, there's going to be a sequel. It's called "Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth" and will (of course) be posted here on the board.
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