Title: Dimensionality

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So, this story is sort-of part of a trilogy, with Paradise and On My Knees. But it can definitely be read as a stand-alone as well. It refers in places to On My Knees, and to the three alternate endings to Paradise. But you don't have to have read (or remember) those stories to understand this.

Summary: M/L and M/M. Also will have some A/I and maybe K/T eventually. What if Max came back in time more than once? What if he kept trying to change the future, to save the world from Khivar, and yet only ever managed to make things worse?

How many more times could he screw this up, he wondered, and just how many more times until he got it right?

Prologue: Dimensions

dimension: a level of existence or consciousness

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Life, Max knew, was like a circle. Others would argue that it was a line with fixed start and stop dates. It began at birth – or conception if you wanted to have the abortion debate – and ended with death - though once again, if religious beliefs were factored in, that endpoint could be questionable. But most would say that life only went in one direction, because, of course, time only moved forward. You couldn't go back, and you certainly could not end up where you started.

Except, Max knew, that you could.

Life was a circle. Maybe not in the literal sense of the word, but in the more figurative point of view. He knew this because he had experienced it. Because, try as he might, he always ended up back where he had started.

Back at the beginning.

The air was hot and humid, filled with moisture and dust and the smell of smoke. The horizon was aflame with colors, red and oranges and the occasional streak of yellow or white that flooded outwards across the blue sky. There were no clouds, nothing to ease the harshness of the sun, nothing to cast shade or shadows over the scorching desert floor.

The three figures made their way towards the distant rock formation, towards the cliffs that rose hazily into the sky. One limped, badly wounded, and another moved slowly as though exhausted. But the third, impatient and grim, strode forward with the kind of determination that could only come from years of fighting.

"Max… wait…"

The third figure, Max, turned and looked back at the other two, his expression a mixture of concern and fear. His hair clung to his face, sleek with sweat, and his clothing did little to hide the thinness of his frame. But his eyes, narrowed and fierce, held a strength in them that was not matched by his physical appearance.

He looked at the one who had spoken, the only woman in the group.

"We can't wait, Liz," he said, his voice rough as though it had been trapped in his throat for too long. "We haven't got the time."

The woman, Liz, frowned and glanced over at the other member of their group. "Michael can't run," she said tiredly. "We need to rest. We'll never make it if we keep…"

"No," Michael interjected, straightening even as he let out a sharp hiss of pain. The back of his shirt was covered in blood and he had several long, shallow gashes on his bare arms. "Max is right. We need… to keep going. If we… stay here…" he gasped and nearly doubled over, but just barely managed to remain upright, "they will find us."

Whoever "they" were, the mere mention of them was enough to cause Liz to glance around uneasily, almost as though expecting to be ambushed where they stood.

Max looked back at the cliffs. "This is our only chance," he said softly. "If we don't make it…" He trailed off and did not finish the sentence. He didn't need to finish it.

They all knew what would happen if they failed.

By the time they reached the cliffs, Michael had been forced to crawl the last several feet, unable to stand upright. Liz was leaning heavily against Max, who desperately wanted to carry both of them but knew he hardly had the strength for himself.

Still… despite the pain and the fear and the exhaustion, they had reached the cliffs.

But they were not the only ones there.

The men emerged from the surrounding area, stepping out from behind stones and rocky outcroppings, appearing like shadows that crept over the land. There were at least fifteen of them, maybe more, Max wasn't really sure.

And, anyway, it was not the number of intruders that bothered them. Merely the identity of their leader.

"Well, well, well… what have we here?"

Max pushed himself forward, powers crackling along the length of his arm and converging into a sphere of energy at his fingertips. His lips twisted into a sneer, and hatred sparkled in his eyes, pure, unadulterated repugnance that masked the growing dread.

"Hello, Nicolas."

The man, or boy… or whatever he was… smiled at Max. A cruel smile that did not reach his eyes. "Hello, your Majesty," he drawled with sarcastic and mocking emphasis on Max's title, "I've been looking for you."

Michael jolted upright and came to stand beside Max, as though somehow convinced that his mere presence would be enough to halt the inevitable attack.

Nicolas laughed. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen," he smirked, gazing at Michael. "Do you really think you can stop me, Rath? You are barely alive… and I will take great pleasure in ensuring your slow and painful death."

Michael responded by throwing out both hands and sending a wave of energy towards his enemies. The effort involved in the attack sent him falling back to his knees, but he refused to give in to the darkness encroaching on his vision. Hanging on to consciousness with every fiber of his rapidly deteriorating being, he ordered tersely, "Max, go! Get to the Granolith. I will hold them off!"

Max hesitated, knowing that if he turned away now, it would be the last time he saw his friend. But even if he stayed and fought… they would all die anyway.

He could not defeat Nicolas.

Liz grabbed Max's arm and pulled him backwards. Max flung the sphere of energy directly at Nicolas, and the dangerous skin barely dodged in time. Michael repeated his attack, another wave of energy taking away his breath and momentarily sending his heart into a rushed panic. But the attack was enough to momentarily distract Nicolas, to force back the other skins…

"I love you," Max whispered, his eyes catching Michael's gaze for a split-second.

Then he turned and ran up the last incline of the desert floor, Liz at his heels, and Michael left behind.

Left behind to die.

Just like everyone else.

At the base of the cliffs, Max waved his hand over the smooth surface of the rock and an opening appeared, the silver handprint melting away to reveal the entrance to a cave. Then Max and Liz stepped inside and the entrance slid shut, effectively sealing off the rest of the world and plunging them into the dark.

The Granolith was a cone-shaped source of energy that vibrated and hummed like neon lights. Max stood before it, hesitating for one moment as he thought over everything that he was about to do, everything he would irrevocably change. Then he met Liz's gaze and felt his heart stiffen with determination.

And he plunged the crystal activator into the metal core, watching as a stream of blue erupted into the air above them, creating a vibrating inverted pyramid of iridescent light.

"Max…"

He turned back to Liz. He could see the tears pooling in her dark brown eyes, and knew that this was goodbye. Tentatively, he reached out towards her, linking his fingers through hers as their hands touched. There was so much he wanted to say, but his voice was stuck in his throat, his emotions preventing him from uttering any sound at all.

Finally, he managed a hoarse, "I love you."

She smiled back. "I don't regret a single moment of this," she answered.

For a moment, his resolve faltered. How could he do this? How could he take all their fates into his hands, how could he play with their lives as though their own decisions, free will itself, meant nothing to him? By going to the past, he would erase this future. For good or ill, he would change the world.

How could he know it was for good?

Except that all the others were dead, and whatever future he created, it had to be better than this.

He reached up and placed his hand against the cool swirl of energy. It absorbed him, pulling him apart, scattering his essence into a million particles, then reassembling him within the energy. He did not feel pain, although he knew the process must have hurt him somehow. But nothing seemed to matter much anymore, and through the vibrating iridescent energy, he could see Liz looking up at him.

"I love you," he whispered, his words caught in the hum of the Granolith.

He reached out his hand towards her, and she lifted her own towards him. But the world began to fade around him, and Liz stumbled and fell to the ground. The last image he saw was the pod chamber crumbling around her still body and then…

Nothing.

In space, all things fall apart. There is nothing, no matter, no time, no light. Nothing but an eternal darkness, a silence beyond everything.

In space, the lingering memories of other things come together, creating a vague and cloudy tapestry of the past, of multiple pasts, of times and places that once were and yet somehow also never existed.

In space, there are questions without answers and answers without questions. In space, ideas merge with each other, and crumble into dust, leaving nothing but trails of reverberation behind, resonance of half-forgotten dreams.

In space, there is nothing and everything.

And that was how Max knew he had done this before.

Isabel, smiling at him, laughing…

…tears spilling down her face as she relayed yet another dream, yet another invasion by Khivar…

…eyes wide in horror as she died.

The thoughts that bombarded his mind made little sense, and though he tried to grasp at them, they slid easily through his fingers. Like sand, falling away, disappearing before his very eyes. They left impressions, feelings, understandings of things he could not possibly understand.

They blurred in his mind, leaving him feeling giddy and bewildered and torn. They were not his memories, and yet somehow… somehow they were. Somehow, he knew all this, had witnessed it, had experienced it. Words, emotions, sensations. They wove in and out of each other, like meshwork, like ribbons of color creating a blanket of…

Of what? What was he remembering?

Michael, grumbling under his breath…

…another argument with Maria, another abstract apology, another smile as things seemed to fall into place once more…

…falling to his knees beside the pod chamber, determined to protect Max for as long as possible, even unto his own death.

They were gone, so quickly, just as quickly as they had come, and in the emptiness that filled him, he felt the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

He had done this before. Travelled back in time, tried to save his friends, his family. His world. And yet it seemed as though it had never worked, as though somehow every attempt had lead to failure, had made it worse, and sent them all spiraling into the darkness.

Too fast, too hard. Unstoppable.

Always, it seemed, Khivar would win.

Maria, lips quirked into a sarcastic smirk…

…eyes glazed over in death as she sacrificed everything to save her best friend…

…hugging Michael and telling him she loved him.

He did not exist, not really. The Granolith had taken him, torn him apart, thrown him into space. He was nothing, just molecules, particles of matter suspended in energy, flying through time, crashing into each other in the dark.

He did not breath. His lungs did not expand and contract, his chest did not rise and fall with every awkward inhalation and exhalation of oxygen. There was no oxygen here, nothing at all, nothing to keep him together.

His heart did not beat. No steady rhythm marking time against his ribcage, no rush of blood through his arteries and veins. No organ set to keep the body alive, no circulation through his limbs.

His nerves did not fire impulses, electrical stimulation passing through, carrying feelings and orders from one part of the body to the next. No hot, no cold, no pain. No comfort, no soft touches, no gentle caresses of the energy that surrounded him, protected him. Nothing.

Alex, crying out in horror even as Isabel took her last breath…

…asking Isabel to marry him with a nervous smile and a hopeful gaze…

…sprawled lifeless in the wreckage of the car accident.

But…

But his mind did exist. Caught, trapped, going nowhere, filled with confusion…

Memories and images, colors and shapes, thin lines between each passing moment. No external senses, no smell, no taste, no touch, no sight, no hearing… but the lingering effects, the memories of those senses, the knowledge that it was all still there, trapped within his mind.

Different timelines, merging as he was carried out of time, as his mind was forced backwards, back into the past…

A past he didn't remember, or maybe one he simply wanted to forget.

Tess, holding their son in her arms, smiling at him while he thought of Liz…

…blue eyes cold and hard and filled with bitter treachery as she backed away from him in the pod chamber…

…gazing adoringly at some other man, someone who was not him, and he felt relief.

There was no consistency, no sense of time as a chronological movement. The images came and went, playing across his mind in a pattern all their own, one that left him even more confused with every passing second. But as each second passed by, there was still no sense of time, of anything at all, and he was suspended in eternity, not understanding the lifetimes that unraveled before him.

The images were contradictory, pushed around in all sorts of ways, flung across the expanse, filling his mind with conflicting emotions, senses he could not comprehend, and maybe never would…

Kyle, walking away after graduation and refusing to look back…

…hugging Tess fiercely as the two stood side-by-side, facing the skins…

…introducing his wife and daughter to the others, his face wearing a smile that did not reach his eyes.

And then, suddenly…

Nothing.

For one moment, a split-second forever frozen, everything was still. The memories gone, his mind blank, nothing at all but the great expanse of emptiness.

And then time appeared again, rushing through him, and his mind was thrown backwards, forwards, all around… A grinding of gears, a crashing of energy, a sudden explosion of light that burst through the space all around him.

And as he crashed back into Earth, back in time, he knew one thing for certain…

Liz, brown eyes filled with tears…

…turning away from him as she faced yet another enemy…

…whispering into the quiet stillness that she would always love him.

…life was a circle. And his would always begin and end in the same exact way.

With Liz.